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#lord this set made me go through it ALL
slvttyplum · 1 month
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“let me see that pussy.” satoru stroking his dick a few states away in a fancy hotel room while he looks at you through his phone screen, he just couldn't get enough of you. he missed you so much, missed that pretty face, missed those cute laughs, and most of all…
he missed your pussy sliding up and down on his dick at 4 in the morning whenever you got horny.
the weeks he would leave for out of state business made him crumble up and cry, he hated being away from you for so long that it literally made him physically sick, blue in the face.
so in order for him to cure his needs and to see you all in one go, he had you doing tricks and all kinds of things while on the phone, and he couldn't be happier, he loved that shit and made him tingle inside.
“yeah, slip it in just like that.” while watching you slide your index finger inside your pussy as his eyes sparkled on the screen of your computer. giving him a show was the best thing, it was fun and messy.
following his every order while teasing him as his cheeks turned red, he wanted to hear your every moan and watch your body move from the pleasure you were giving yourself because he wasn't, the set-up was perfect and so was the cum leaking and sliding past the tip of his dick.
“you can make yourself cum more than that.” while watching your back arch from the exhaustion of pumping your trusty dildo in and out of you while your wrist getting sore and your fluids slowly leaking out.
watching you fuck yourself dumb made him go crazy, his throat sore and his mouth dry. he hated the fact that he couldn't feel your pussy clinging onto him, but it was arousing to see you on his screen doing the nastiest shit just for him.
it made his head spin and his dick hard. he knew how you got down and that's why he let you do what you did with not much direction, because he knew either way, you were going to give him a show and a good one at that.
if your pussy wasn't squirting on his screen in that lit up in the dark hotel room, he wasn't going to be satisfied and instead was going to pout. the both of you had sex almost every night, so he would go through withdraws of not being able to dig out your pussy, but lord behold, his perfect partner put on a show for him to beat his dick to every night.
his jerking off sessions were more exhausting than beating up your pussy, his hand would cramp up and have cum leaking onto his stomach and the sheets. one time he jerked off so hard that his leg cramped up, and he was the one who ended up squirting.
the pleasure of cumming to you was something special and something he never wanted to miss, so if he had to squirt and beat his dick t the point he passed out, that's what he would do. he wanted to make sure he got the most out of the shows and work you were putting in.
so just know, when he comes back home… he's beating that pussy in like no tomorrow.
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sukunas-wife · 4 months
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Waking up pressed into Sukuna’s large frame on a cold morning, the thick heavy embroidered blankets trapping all the heat. Eyes heavy with sleep as you took a deep breath through your nose arching your back and stretching your free arm.
Turning over and looking at Sukuna who was already staring down at you. Bleary vision as you blinked away the faint blur, “Good morning.”
Sukuna’s smile was faint, lidded eyes looked over your body through the duvet, “morning.” On of his arms held you against him and the other pulled your head closer as he pressed a kiss to the top of your head, “There’s a surprise.” The arms on his right side moved you leaned up trying to peek over his massive chest, before you smiled laughing quietly. He held up the blanket with one arm the other holding your son Yuji curled up into his side, almost in the pit of his arm. You reached over fingers lightly tracing Yuji’s cheek, your sweet boy who resembled his father so heavily but wore his heart on his sleeve so openly.
“He’s been waiting for the first snow, he’s been so excited now that it’s getting colder, but he shouldn’t be running around in this hard floor with no shoes! Or socks at least, look at his little feet, he could get sick.” You scolded your son in his sleep before he started to stretch “Look what you did, you woke my boy.” Sukuna chided with a mischievous laugh.
“Sno?” His first words as he rubbed his eyes with his tiny fists yawning. You sat back in your spot as Sukuna evaded his question holding him up in the air with one set of arms using the other to tickle him as he spoke “Waking up and the first thing you ask is if there’s snow, need to show my little brat some manners, how about a good morning dad or how did you sleep mom, hm?” Yuji was laughing holding onto his dads forearms kicking his feet before Sukuna sat up and Yuji sat in his lap resting his chin on his dad’s chest still smiling “morning daddy,” he turned to you trying to climb off his dad “gmornin mommy.”
You cooed at him dragging him into a tight hug and kissing his head, “Good morning baby how did you sleep?” He smiled “Good! It was cold so so i came running and ume saw me and i started to run faster like daddy! I made it an ume didn’t catch me but i couldn’t make it into the bed …” he looked down at his little chubb legs, “Is to high so i used teh chair!” He perked up and pointed at a chair at the foot of the bed, you laughed and squeezed him again, “Your so smart and cute.” He laughed when your squished him peppering his face with kisses.
“Like daddy!” Pointed at your husband causing him to let out a loud laugh “Sorry brat but if you wanna be like ME you have a lot of work to do.” Resting your cheek on Yuji’s head you looked at your husband who had a set of arms folded behind his head the other set crossed against his chests, you moved your cheek watching Yuji look at his hands before feeling him shake, he looked up at you with a look of look of betrayal and teary eyes, his cheek’s reddening, “i… i only have two… two hands!” Bringing a hand to your mouth you looked away not wanting to laugh at in your son’s face, looking out the window you saw your escape, “Yuji! Honey look it’s snowing!”
He tried to rush over to the window, tripping off the bed, the patter of his feet making you shake your head. You heard Sukuna sigh before you felt a hand of his rest on your waist pulling you back to him. “You do realize he’ll want to-CAN WE GO OUTSIDE!” The scream of your son made you side eye Sukuna with a smile and he looked away rolling his eyes.
“Uraume!” A second later Uraume entered the room bowed with closed eyes, “Yes Lord Sukuna?” Sukuna pushed the duvet back “bring my robes let the maids in and then get my brat ready to go outside.” Yuji cheered and rushed to Uraume ready to get dressed. Uraume and the maids made quick work of getting you and Yuji ready to head out into the snow that was quickly piling up. Sukuna only closed his robes for a change, but it was evident he was uncomfortable from the stretch of the fabric. The three of you heading out into the snow your ladies in waiting and Uraume standing just a bit off. You watched as Yuji ran around in the snow the crunching of his foot steps as he ran throwing fallen snow into the air, Sukuna laughing loudly when Yuji tripped and disappeared into the snow, only stopping and shocked when you rushed over to Yuji and falling waist deep into the same hole. He sighed walking over to pull you both out, his arm movement restricted by his closed robes before he tore the robes entirely just to pull both of you out.
“That’s better.” Was all he said as he rolled his shoulders, chest and back exposed to the cold, and soon enough you were fighting Yuji to keep his clothes on when you had turned to him watching him try to fold his robes down the way his father had. Sukuna scoffed with a smirk watching as his son ran away from you in the snow chest bare for all to see. Your lungs aching from the cold air, Yuji was smiling big his laughs blowing out puffs of fog until he was snatched up by Sukuna who fixed his robes, “enough,” his voice was stern as Yuji sat on his forearm, “when your mother tell you to stop and come here you listen understood.”
Yuji nodded looking up at Sukuna, in his eyes his dad was the best thing in the world, to him Sukuna could say he hung every star in the sky and created the moon and sun and Yuji would awe and hold onto every word he said believing it was the absolute truth. You smiled at your husband, leaning against his arms once you were close enough, the heat of his body radiating and you realized he didn’t have a single snow flake on him.
🖤🖤❤���🖤🖤❤️🖤🖤❤️🖤🖤❤️🖤🖤❤️🖤🖤
“Yuujiii” you rubbed your sons back, he was curled up against your chest, your back against Sukuna’s chest. “Mm” he shook his head trying to bury his face in your chest and smiled down him. “Yuji, it’s Christmas don’t you wanna get up and open your gifts?” “m cold” he was quick to fall asleep as you huffed flipping over your body pulling Yuji with you
You face Sukuna with your little bundle of life between both of you, in his half awake state he pulled you closer squishing Yuji between his and your own chest. He laid on his left side on arm tucked under his head the other pulling both you and Yuji close, his right arm placed on your waist and the other pulling the duvet up to cover you all. The faint crackling wood could be heard from the smoldering fire as it slowly faded, the shadow of snow falling filled the room from the window, the soft breaths of your son squished between you and your husband. Your left hand came up to hold Ryomen’s face, his eyes opened slightly, the smile on your face as you did your best to stretch up and kiss him, he leaned down to meet your kiss.
“I love you,” was all you whispered against his lips, feeling the heat on his cheeks as he squeezed your soft side “I’ll do everything to protect you and Yuji until my last breath.” Was his affectionate response.
Your soft smile in the faint light of the rising sun, soft breaths when you whispered “Merry Christmas Ryomen.” He let out a breathy laugh amused, “mm, Merry Christmas.”
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bitchimasnake-sss · 6 months
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"i feel kinda ugly" ft. the monster trio!
in which the biggest dumbasses in the whole of sea comfort you when you fall prey to your shitty thoughts
ft. luffy, zoro, sanji x fem!reader
set-up: you happened to utter out what you thought of yourself and these men are here to prove you wrong. (kind of a serious set of headcanons, but ill try being funny when i can)
warnings: nsfw; somnophilia if you squint, oral f!receiving and m!recieving, boobjob, creampie; MDNI (thankyou very much)
luffy:
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my fav little gremlin's in town ^^
- "i feel kinda ugly" you had muttered it under your breath, words dissolving into the chilly night air. you were laying on your shared bed, staring up at the uneventful ceiling as he snored lightly next to you. - he was supposed to be asleep, atleast that's what you had thought (how can you expect him to stay up after eating like 500kg of meat??) - but he stirs awake almost instantly, turning his head to look at your face. he stifles a yawn, mumbling through a half-lidded gaze, "why would you say that?" - "why would i say what?" you smile, waving it off as if it had just been a wayward thought - but lord knows the amount of nights you've tossed and turned, thinking about all the ways you were incompetent for this man who lay in front of you. you weren't pretty like nami or robin, you weren't quick-witted like them, god, what did he see in you? - "who said you were ugly?" his face is scrunched up, the crease b/w his eyebrows deepening "luffy let it g-" "no. who said it?" his violent undertone doesn't go unnoticed, as if he's threatening to take care of whoever made you miserable - you don't have the heart to tell him it's yourself. you convinced yourself you weren't pretty enough. - and so, you stay silent - but his arms are pulling you impossibly close. closer and closer till your chest is pressed flushed against his and you're staring at him confused - "luf-" "that's bullshit." there's conviction in his words that make a dull warmth cascade over your face and neck. - he is pressing his forehead against yours, hands gripping onto you tightly as if letting his grip loosen means he loses this argument. "you're beautiful. you're smart and kind and beautiful." - at this point, youre about to cry - but he inhales deeply, then says "not to mention you smell like a fruit. thats tasty." - yeah the tears dried up. they fucked off and went to sahara desert. - youre currently fighting off a smile because what the actual fuck prompted this man to say that??? and more importantly what fruit do you smell like? "what fruit do i smell like?" "mhm" he's deep in thought, "tangerines" "luffy everyone smells like tangerine. it's because of nami's tangerine trees." he shrugged, "still pretty tasty" - and now youre kissing his adorably stupid face. your fingers tug on the hair on his nape lightly and he whines into the kiss, sucking on your bottom lip as he does so - "you're so pretty" and so he's kissing your neck, nibbling and grazing lazily - two seconds later, he fell asleep. - like actually fell asleep. his mouth is on your neck, open mouthed and half-nibbling and he's snoring through it all. (i mean, what did you expect from someone who had eaten 500kg of meat??) - issokay though cause the second he wakes up, his fingers are hiking one of your legs over his hip. the same fingers then slip inside the loose folds of your shorts, playing with your pretty pussy till you stir awake, moaning his name - you're the one being toyed with and he's the one whispering and whining like he's gonna explode "does that feel good, ngh-" a grin, "god... fuck, cum for me, pretty" - he continues till your velvety walls are spasming against his fast-paced fingers and your teeth are sinking into his shoulder, muffling shrieks this early in the morning - "you're gorgeous" he whispers through a grin - you choose to believe him
zoro:
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myhusband ^^
- this was the last thing you wanted. truly. - zoro had just stepped out of the shower with nothing but a towel losely tied around his waist (this was after he had succesfully ignored you and trained for like an eternity) - water droplets clung onto his broad figure, slowly trailing downwards as they glided over every ridge and scar - you probably should have pulled him onto the bed with you, straddled his hips and asked him to stop ignoring you to go spend time with his swords - you probably should have. - instead, you lay stomach-down on your bed, your head softly cradled beneath your arms and against the pillow - "what's up with you?" he asks, unfazed to your tactics "nothing" you mumble half-heartedly he gave you a double over, "you sure? you're sulking more than usual" "i-" you sigh, "i just idk... i just feel kinda ugly?" - this motherfucker laughs, "yeah i mean you kinda are" - he didn't know you were serious. he didn't know till you were softly crying against the linen sheets, your body shivering against your own cries and staggered breaths - "yn?" there's panic in his voice, "yn, baby, are you crying?! fUCK IM SORRY!" - he didn't know you were serious. i mean how wAS HE SUPPOSED TO KNOW?! HE THOUGHT YOU WERE BEING DRAMATIC FOR NO REASON LIKE ALWAYS - "hey" you've never heard the swordsman speak so softly as he does now. he's pulling you up softly, placing you in his lap almost mechanically, "yn, baby-" - he lets you sob into his chest for as long as you need to, his fingers are rubbing gentle patterns into your back, arms and waist. - once you've calm down, his hand tips your face lightly towards him. he silently wipes the tears away. - he doesn't say anything and somehow his silence brings more comfort than his words could. - "don't think stupid shit" his palm is resting on your face, pouring warmth across the stretch of your cheek, "you're gorgeous." "but you said im ugly" you lean into his touch "i also said i will return back nami's loans with full interest" a small smile tugs on his lips, "sometimes even i say stupid shit" "so, you don't think i'm ugly?" - his response comes in the way of leaning in and kissing you, one hand on your cheek as the other kneads your waist. - he's laying you down, hovering over you easily and pressing hot kisses to your neck and jawline. sucking, biting till you can feel bruises blossoming across your skin. his knee presses against your core, blinding you with delicious jolts " his agile fingers are hiking up your skirt, letting it pool around your waist, "let me show you how pretty you are, baby" - so, he's pulling your panties with his teeth, he's licking a clean stripe on your inner thigh, kissing and bruising the sensitive skin "and you're dripping wet already? want me to fuck you that bad, eh?" - he's running his tongue over your clit, tracing figures as he alternates between your drooling hole and the bundle of nerves - and so obviously you're now cumming on his face, letting your juices coat his lips, thighs shaking as he gives you kitten licks to help you ride your orgasm - he looks up at you; your hairline damp with sweat, eyes closed in bliss, a warm hue of red sprinkled across your face, your chest rising and falling with each labored breath "i've never seen someone prettier" he declares from between the plush of your thighs, smiling up at you like it was the first time he had truly seen you - you choose to believe him
sanji:
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mhm, a fine specimen ^^
- you don't keep secrets from sanji. - or more like you physically cannot. - this man is your greatest cheerleader, there's no way you can hide something from him no matter how squeamish it makes you to say out loud - so after noticing your off behaviour the entire evening and pestering you for twenty minutes after dinner, he had successfully got you to say what you were thinking out loud "sweetheart, darling, the apple of my eye. what is wrong?" you shake your head again, "nothing." "yn, my love, 'fess up" - he said it so sweetly you had to fess up. there was no choice. - "i just feel a bit bad about myself today" "bad? how so?" "i just... just feel kinda ugly" - he looks like he's going into cardiac arrest (he probably is) cause there's no way you, his girlfriend, literally the prettiest girl in all four seas just said that out loud - honestly, i can just see this man tearing up and blaming himself "is it me, mon chéri? did i do something wrong?" tears are clinging on dangerously onto his lasheline "what?! no!" "i am sorry. i love you so much. i must have said something wrong because you're so gorgeous, so earth-shatteringly beautiful-" - honestly you had to calm this bitch down first, explaining to him that he was perfect in every way he can be, it's probably just your own fault - but he refuses to accept it as your fault. - this man, this beautiful, amazing man has to now cling onto you and pepper kisses onto you face like there's no tomorrow. like everytime you try to speak, he wont let you cause he needs to ramble about how absolutely gorgeous you are - he spoke for so long that you are now convinced that to the world you may not be the prettiest woman alive but to this blonde man (with a great ass), you mean everything - his kisses blended into soft whispers and whimpers as you forced him to rest against the headboard and straddled his hips - you can feel his poking erection through his dress slacks as you kiss him senseless with only one goal in mind, to let him know he did nothing wrong - you nudge his slacks downwards till his cock hits you lightly in your face - your lips encircle his tip, sucking on it lightly as your hand moves up and down his length, languid and slow "yn~" his voice is a choked whisper, "you- are killing me. faster, please darling." - now you're catching his dick between your tits, massaging his length with the softness of your breasts as your tongue laps up at his tip, licking any pre-cum that escapes him "fuck fuck fuck fu-" his moans are an incoherent ramble, "i'm gon' cum, fuck you feel- so ngh- good" - he comes on your tits and face and almost releases again when he sees you scoop up the sticky fluid from the corner of your lips and lick it away - so with cum-painted tits and face, he whispers, "yn, you are the most gorgeous woman i have seen." - you choose to believe him
a/n: honestly cannot thank you guys for how much you'be blown up these posts in the past few days, so here, have a little treat
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emo-batboy · 10 months
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Battinson on SNL
Idk how popular Saturday Night Live is outside of the US so there will be some links for context. That said, as a New Jersey native, I think Battinson would totally watch the show. And since he's a celebrity...👀
SO
To promote WE’s newest charity fund, Alfred signs Bruce up to be a guest host on SNL (à la this post) The announcement is made, and everyone’s like “oh this is going to be a disaster. That man can’t even hold eye contact or speak a full sentence without crying.”
But oh, that’s why it’s so funny.
Now, hear me out. Bruce’s strengths are displayed best when he’s himself. That’s why he’s so popular in Gotham. That’s why the internet calls him Relatable TM and a Disaster (Affectionate) and “Poor Little Meow Meow.” It’s his ✨ essence ✨
But he tends to get overwhelmed or self-conscious onstage, right? Because he can’t be Himself himself if he has time to overthink something. So after a few meetings with Bruce, the writers of SNL figure out the perfect way to keep Bruce from getting anxious.
They decide to load this episode with as many skits where Bruce plays different caricature-like versions of himself as possible. The objective? Make him break character and laugh so he doesn’t overthink. And if he breaks character, he’ll still technically be in character because he’s playing himself, you know? Genius.
So that’s how they go about structuring the show. During the few days they have to write, they decide to take everything about Bruce’s public image and either ramp it up to 11 or turn it on its head.
He speaks quietly? Turn it into a running gag. He dresses in all black? Make him emo. He tips well? Add that in too. He’s “depressed” and “sad?” Literally, all he does on screen is laugh and break character. What’s not to love?
Of course, Bruce also gets to decide what skits are in each episode as well. (Refer to this if you have no idea how SNL works.) He loves the idea, though, and he has a surprisingly dark sense of humor which bleeds into some of the sketches. They add in a few skits without him, and they’ve got their lineup.
It’s the wildest episode of the season. Here are the highlights:
OPENING MONOLOGUE
It’s the big night, everyone’s excited to see Bruce Wayne hosting a live sketch comedy show with no idea how it will turn out.
To begin his monologue, Bruce walks on, opens his mouth to start talking, and immediately two cast members appear as stagehands to set up six microphones in front of him. He is already struggling to keep himself together.
Bruce: “You may be wondering why I’m host- Cast Member: *adds one more tiny microphone to his chest* Bruce: “You may be wondering why I’m hosting tonight.”
It’s working. The audience loves it.
Halfway through, Kate McKinnon comes out in a dark cloak with a chalice. “Your sustenance, my lord.” *sees camera* “Oh. Sorry. Carry on.” And she shambles off. Bruce has to take a second before continuing.
Bruce knows when (most of) the jokes come. It’s literally on the cue cards, but he still falls into a fit of giggles.
There are a few more gags, including Lex Luthor peeking out from behind the band set-up, all teasing the show to come.
Overall, an amazing way to set the tone for the episode. Expectations have been set. Then the skits begin!
(Oh but before I forget: During every single live skit with Bruce, the writers have scheduled for one of the cast members to run in dressed as a stagehand and put an extra mic on him. They do not tell him when it will happen.)
SKIT #1
Between the monologue and the first skit, he has to do a really fast quick change, but to everyone’s surprise, Bruce is a natural. (Huh, wonder why.)
The skit is called Gotham PTA Meeting. We open in a meeting room full of stereotypical PTA moms setting down baked goods and gossiping. And apparently, there is a new PTA member attending today 👀
Right as the meeting starts, he enters. Bruce walks in wearing the most emo get-up imaginable. He’s got a Nirvana shirt, a comical amount of eyeliner, black skinny jeans, chain accessories, metal rings, AND a clip-in extension to give him fringe.
Someone immediately runs in and puts another mic on him.
PTA Mom: “Oh, Bruce! You made it! Did you bring a snack?” Bruce: “I brought lemon bars.” PTA Mom: “Why are they black?” Bruce: “They match my soul…they’re also vegan.”
He talks like a moody teenager. HE CONSTANTLY has to brush the fringe off to the side to read the cue cards. And because there’s so much eyeliner and he’s sweating a bit from the lights, it starts running everywhere.
PTA Mom: “Bruce, you’re a little quiet. What are your thoughts on increasing the school lunch budget?” Bruce: *eyeliner dripping down his chin* “I think it’s a great idea.”
SKIT #2
For a pre-filmed skit, they bring back the Chad character with Pete Davidson.
It’s 2 am, and Chad is working at a 24hr drug store in Gotham. He’s reading Twilight (the book is upside down) when the lights begin to flicker.
He turns around and tries the light switch, turns back around, and JUMPSCARE it’s Bruce dressed as Edward from Twilight.
Yes, he IS sparkly.
Bruce is awkwardly holding a bunch of items, all concerning. He plops down a few knives, several raw meats, Sudafed. Chad: “Oh hey.” Bruce: O_O “I’d like to check out please.” Chad: “Lit.”
Chad’s “No Fucks Given” energy and Bruce’s “Please Do Not Perceive Me” energy clash like titans. The whole skit centers around it.
Bruce: *sweating bullets* “Oh. You’re reading Twilight?” Chad: “Just the title.” Bruce: *throws the book through the window at lightning speed* “It’s not very good. You should probably read something else.” Chad: *shrugs* “Okay.”
Chad: “ID?” Bruce: “ID? For what?” Chad: “Sudafed.” Bruce: “Oh. I don’t really need that, actually.” Chad: “Already scanned it.” Bruce: “Haha. Of course.” *awkwardly produces a scroll from his pocket that says Bruce Wayne DOB: 1901* Chad: “Okay.”
Bruce checks out, Chad picks up a porno mag or something, and we see Bruce turn into a bat and fly off through the window behind him.
SKIT #3
The next skit they have is Celebrity Family Feud: Billionaires Edition. Again, Bruce plays himself, but he’s more of a background character. Instead, the skit makes fun of billionaires as a whole.
Bruce’s team consists of Kylie Jenner, Lex Luthor, and Oliver Queen. So just imagine three Lucille Bluths standing beside one another. 
Bruce’s bit? He just keeps handing cash to Steve Harvey every time he breathes in his direction.
Host: "We got the richest man in the world: Bruce Wayne!" Bruce: *hands him a roll of cash* Host: "Oh, what’s this for?" Bruce: "It’s your tip. I always tip." Host: "Oh, Mr. Wayne, you don’t usually tip the show host. I’m also a millionaire myself." Lex Luthor: *snatches it* "Well, if you’re not going to use it, I will…for charity, of course." Host: "Uh huh, whatever helps you sleep at night."
Just a ton of fun quips, the usual.
At some point, Harvey says, “That’s batty.” Bruce: *ducks* “Where?!” Host: “Oh, I don’t mean Batman. He’s not here.” Bruce: “You don’t know that.”
This time, the mic bit is a bit different.
Host: “We asked 100 billionaires: How much does a loaf of bread cost? Top three answers are on the board.” Bruce: *hits buzzer* Host: Bruce, your answer is? Cast Member: *runs in with a megaphone and holds it in front of Bruce* Bruce: “TEN DOLLARS?”
Board dings! That was the #1 answer
Brucie Wayne for the win
SKIT #4
Next is a skit that dares to ask Gotham, “Why would anyone live here?”
The skit begins with someone opening a press conference for Wayne Enterprises. “And now presenting: Bruce Wayne!” Bruce walks in…
But it’s not him. Instead, it’s one of the cast members dressed in a black suit with horribly gelled brown hair.
Everyone in the audience is wondering where the actual Bruce is before another cast member runs onstage crying, “Help! Help! I’ve just been robbed! Somebody call Batman!”
A mini version of the bat-signal lights up…
We hear some generic hero music play…
And there he is: Bruce Wayne dressed in a horribly cheap Batman costume
(They got the cowl ALL wrong btw)
Bruce puts his hands on his hips in a weird superhero pose. Bruce: “I’m Batm-” Cast Member: *runs out to attach another mic to his costume* Bruce: “….I’m Batman!”
Cue all of the gags and digs against Batman. The fake Bruce faints then starts crying under a table. Someone calls Batman a furry. Bruce is barely keeping it together the whole time. Lord help him, but he asked for it. He approved the skit.
Bruce: “Looks like a job for my bat taser!” Cast Member: “Isn’t that just a taser with a bat on it?” Bruce: *whispers* “You shut your mouth.”
He saves the day, the police take the thief into custody, then Batman myStErioUsly disappears. Bruce: “Look over there!” *runs off* Cast Member: “Oh my gooood, how did he do that?”
CLOSING SEGMENT
Finally, they have the Weekend Update where Bruce comes on as himself for the final time.
Since they got his permission, the writers switch out some of Bruce’s jokes last minute. (Think Bill Hader’s Stefon which notoriously caused him to break character because the writers would mess with his cue cards.)
News Anchor: “Here to promote his newest humanitarian project: Bruce Wayne!” “Mr. Wayne, what a pleasure to see you today.” Bruce: “Thank you. This is probably the longest I’ve been out of the house.” News Anchor: “Since the Riddler catastrophe?” Bruce: “Since ever.”
News Anchor: “So Mr. Wayne! Before you make your announcement, any life updates?” Bruce: “Yes, actually. Just a few days ago, I adopted five- *starts losing it* five more children.” News Anchor: “Wow, really? So you have eight kids now.” Bruce: “Uh huh. *tears streaming down his face* One more orphan and I get the tenth one free.”
News Anchor: “So where can people find you online?” Bruce: “Well, I don’t have social media because I’m afraid of people, but sometimes I’m on Twitter.” News Anchor: “What about a phone call?” Bruce: “Oh no, phone calls- *giggle* phone calls give me fainting spells.”
It’s a great way of finishing the show, with the most genuine version of Bruce. Then, he gets to what’s really important!
News Anchor: “So if they can’t reach you on social media or on the phone, what else can our viewers do, Mr. Wayne?” Bruce: “They can donate to the Wayne Foundation’s newest charity called The Arts Initiative. It funds programs for the arts in underdeveloped school districts nationwide. I’ve already donated $30 million, and I’ve pledged to match every dollar donated within the next week.”
And that’s what he’s here for :) They share a link for where and how to donate. The anchors praise him for his charity, which he deflects because he can definitely afford this, and the 90-minute broadcast is over.
The camera pans away with the whole cast waving goodbye, and Bruce is seen keeling over with laughter.
Along with some of the other skits, these four specifically go viral. WE raises a fuck ton of money, and everyone loves Bruce.
THE END
LOVE YOU ALL!! Let me know what you think :D
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yandere-writer-momo · 2 months
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Part 2 🖤I made the demon king a black man. I don’t see many Yandere POC OCs 🖤
Yandere Head Canons:
Defying Destiny
Yandere Demon King x Isekai Saintess Reader x Yandere Hero (mentioned)
TW: imprisonment, kidnapping, stalking, uncomfortable themes, sexual themes, Somniaphilia, Dacryphilia, etc.
Part 1
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You woke up wrapped in the silk sheets of snow unfamiliar bed. Your eyes wild and your heart raced in your chest like a startled animal. Where were you and where was Reinhardt?! Why were there candles everywhere in this dark bedroom? Was Reinhardt planning to… oh god you were terrified.
You felt a sob rack through you when reality set in. Had Reinhardt stolen you away to live out some sort of sick fantasy instead of going through with his quest to slay the demon king? No… Reinhardt wouldn’t bring you to such a luxurious home. But who on earth brought you here?
“I see you’re awake, my delicate flower.” Your head snapped to the doorway to see the silhouette of a large man. You felt your blood run cold and a shiver run down your spine by his presence. That raspy baritone voice belonged to a stranger.
You flinched when the man suddenly slapped his clawed hands on the end of the king sized bed. Your eyes met gold for the first time and you seeped your heart stopped in your chest from pure terror. There was no mistaking who your captor was… he was the demon king.
“What’s the matter, saintess?” He chuckled as he reached a taloned finger out to hook around a strand of your hair. “Cat got your tongue?”
You felt tears stream down your cheeks when he flashed his long fangs at you. He was bewitchingly beautiful with his burnt umber skin and golden eyes. There was no doubt he was a demon and that fact terrified you. What did he want from you? Was he… was he going to kill you?
The demon king sighed at your shivering form before he moved himself to sit beside you. His hand moved to hold yours. ���It’s alright, darling. I’m not going to hurt you.”
You sniffled when he began to wipe away your tears. “W… what?”
“I’d never hurt my saintess.” The demon king gave you a toothy smile. “My beautiful, merciful saintess… my salvation.”
You gasped when he brought your right hand up to his lips to press a tender kiss to the back of it. “It’s so wonderful to finally have you here with me… you’ll be safe here.”
“I’m just a bit confused about all of this…” You felt so small under his intense gaze, like he was about to pounce on you at any second. “Who are you and why have you taken me?”
The demon lord chuckled as he rose up from the bed to stand at his full, intimidating height. His curved black horns nearly added another foot to his height which made he give you a smirk. “Why I am the Demon King but you can call me Amon.”
The demon king- no, Amon, bowed his head to you. “And I took you to save you.”
You were surprised to see a tray of freshly made food in front of you when Amon snapped his fingers. Your stomach growled at the delicious sight, but you were hesitant to accept… Amon quickly caught onto your hesitance and took a bite of the food for you. “Don’t worry, it’s real and completely edible. Only the best for my saintess.”
You shyly took a bite and smiled at the taste. It was lovely…
Amon smiled warmly at you, his golden eyes studied your satisfied smile in pure joy. He was so happy to please you!
Amon ran his talons through his long black hair with a smile. “I’ll take care of you from now on. You’re safe here.”
As the weeks melted into months, Amon kept his word. None of his demon nor monster henchmen were mean towards you, unlike the hero’s party. Sure Amon was never far from you, but his company was much preferred over Reinhardt’s. Amon would bring you meals and made sure you had fresh clothes. He pampered you like a beloved pet.
Though it was never officially stated, you were Amon’s lover. And thus, you treated as such by his subjects. They’d wait for you on hand and foot. You received various expensive clothing and jewelry, they were eager to make you smile. It was such a stark contrast compared to your treatment prior…
You often gazed out your window at the volcanic city below. It was fascinating just how different monsters and demons lived from humans… so why did the humans want to destroy them so much?
You jumped when Amon entered the room to wrap his muscular arms around your waist, his nose pressed onto your shoulder. A few of his box braids tickled your skin. “I missed you so much… I just wish the humans would leave us alone. I grow tired of the hero and his party. They’re so much weaker without your barriers and healing. To think they never treated you well. What a bunch of losers.”
You turned to gaze at Amon in interest. “What is it that they’re after? Why do the humans hate your people so much?”
Amon gave you the softest of smiles, a bit of his fangs peaked out from under his lip. “Our magic stones. Monsters and demons produce enough magic stones to fuel humanity for eons… they’re worth a lot of money to humans.”
Amon pressed a tender kiss to your shoulder, his gold eyes stared expectantly up at you. “You’re the only human to ever question their greed and motives. You don’t wish to be bound to a destiny thrust upon you by the world.”
Amon bent down on one knee and pressed his lips over your palms and fingers. “Join me. Together we can defy our destiny. You don’t have to be a Saintess forced to marry the hero and I won’t have to be a page in the history books.”
You felt a blush on your cheeks when he tilted his handsome face at you. “Let’s watch the world burn together.”
And now you had a choice to make. To fulfill the destiny predetermined for you or to defy your destiny.
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lovebugism · 10 months
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could i request “mean” eddie and reader going swimming somewhere and maybe she’s in her swimsuit and someone says something that makes him jealous? also just want to say i love you writing sm!!! <3
hi, lovely! thanks so much for your request and your kind words!! i hope you like it xoxo (1.7k)
bug's summer fic fest ♡
Eddie can’t stop staring at you.
It’s not like it’s his fault, though. You’re all sprawled out beside him in a plastic lounge chair, clad only in a bathing suit that leaves little to the imagination. It’s an all-black number with little white bats all over it, clinging to you like it was made to do it.
It’s a wonder the two of you even made it to Hawkins Community Pool, honestly. Eddie's thoughts verge on obscene at the sight of you. But then again, they tend to when you're on his mind.
You lay with your hands folded above your head, totally surrendering yourself to the golden sunlight. It gives Eddie the opportunity to gaze at you fully — even though sometimes he thinks he’s already memorized you by now.
He analyzes you like it’s the first time he’s ever seen you, like you’re the last thing he’ll ever see.
The pudge of the top of your breast spills over the hem of your bikini. The skin of your stomach bulges underneath your high-waisted bottoms. The fullness of your thighs begins to glow beneath the glittering daylight.
He commits all of this to memory and figures maybe that’s what the sun’s doing too, as it paints your skin more golden.
He doesn’t know how he got you. 
But he hopes your eyes are closed behind your thick glasses. Or, at the very least, that they block your view of him. Eddie knows he’s unabashedly staring at you, but he also knows he can’t stop. He doesn’t want his ogling to be met with your teasing — even if he is deserving of it.
The Lord of the Rings book in his hands goes quickly abandoned. It’s a feat he even made it to page fifty. He’s flipped through it enough times to memorize it, though. Sort of like you.
Like the novel, he could read you a million times and never get bored. The only real difference is he finds you much, much sexier than printed words on a page.
“I can feel you staring, you know?” 
Your voice jolts him from his stupor, light and golden like the slowly setting sun. Your words are nearly drowned out by the sounds of the bustling pool — screaming kids, splashing water, and people trying to converse over it all.
Eddie’s far too attuned to you not to hear you, though.
You’re not looking at him, but he can see the corner of your lip quirk in a slight half-smile.
“Can you?” he deadpans, turning back to his book like he hadn’t been looking at you at all.
The words are all mush, though. He’ll blame it on the stifling summer heat. He was the idiot out here in a black t-shirt and trunks, after all.
“Yeah,” you nod.
He sees your smile completely when you turn to look at him. The sun pierces through your amber lenses, making your eyes more visible beneath them. You’ve got one eye squinted to evade the blinding light. The beam you wear is somehow brighter.
“’S like spidey senses, you know? I can always tell when you’re looking at me, Munson.”
Eddie wants to be embarrassed at the thought. He knows that you’re joking — if only just the slightest bit — but it makes him think about all the other times he’s shamelessly gawked at you. He spent years doing it before you ever got together.
Many of his high school years were spent paying more attention to you than his homework. He thinks maybe that’s why he had such a hard time graduating.
“You’re saying my girlfriend’s a superhero?” the boy jokes, brows raised behind his curly bangs and chocolate eyes going wide. They look more golden in the sunlight, and they twinkle with mischief.
“Uh-huh,” you hum with a wider smile than before. “You didn’t know?”
He shakes his head. Some of his curls still stick to him, damp with the sweat beading on his milky skin. “No. I can confidently say that I didn’t.”
“Good. It was supposed to be a secret, anyway.”
Eddie doesn’t mean to laugh, but he does.
It’s a sharp exhale through his nose more than anything, paired with a crooked pink smile. He wishes he knew how much of a dork you were a year ago. He might’ve asked you out sooner.
“Brush up on your spidey senses before you go out patrolling the neighborhood, alright, Spiderwoman?” he jests in a monotone, turning the page of his book even though he hadn’t actually read it. “’Cause I totally wasn’t staring at you.”
You know he’s lying.
And it’s not just because you could feel it — even though you think his button-eyed gaze can be palpable in its attentiveness at times. But what you lacked in superhero senses, you made up for in awareness of all things Eddie Munson. 
You knew when he got quiet that he was in his own head. And being that you hadn’t heard a single page turn in several minutes, you figured his eyes must’ve been on something other than the book in his hands.
Your quip was hardly more than a lucky guess, really.
“Good,” you hum as you flip over onto your stomach. Your backside had been completely deprived of sunlight before now. You prop yourself up on your elbows and lift your sunglasses to the top of your head. Your teasing gaze is no longer amber-coated. “‘Cause that would mean you find me attractive.”
“And that would just be a travesty, wouldn’t it?” Eddie scoffs.
He looks over at you again and finds your changed position. Your back is pointed towards the sun now, the very bottom of your ass on full display. Your thighs are indented softly from the slatted chair beneath you.
He can’t pry his eyes off the combination of the two despite knowing you’re watching him right back.
“It’s okay if you have the hots for me, Eds,” you tell him, feigning sympathy. “I’d only make fun of you a little bit.”
Eddie stays silent for half a moment too long, then shakes his head to dismiss the thought. “Don’t flatter yourself, sweetheart. It’s just the heat.”
You scoff. “Yeah. Let’s blame the way you’re ogling at me on sunstroke.”
He still finds it a bit difficult to be your boyfriend sometimes — or just a boyfriend. And it’s not because of you. Not in the slightest. He just sort of put a wall around himself when he was younger. He’s been behind it so long he’s forgotten how to let people back in.  
And even though he hasn’t said it yet, he loves the goddamn shit outta you. But for some reason, he can’t let himself be vulnerable in that way — can’t even ask to touch you without coming up with some lame excuse that covers up all his vulnerable-ness.
“You, uh… You put sunscreen on, right?” he asks, shifting slightly in his chair. He spares a brief glance your way from the corner of his eye, halfway concealed by the fluffy brown curls framing his face.
“Yeah?” you answer with pinched brows. “Right after I forced you to put some on, remember?”
He scrunches his nose as he squints at you. It takes everything in you not to lean over and kiss the tip of it. “I don’t know,” the boy singsongs as he tilts his head to his shoulder. “I don’t remember it, actually…”
“Then maybe you’re the one that needs to get checked out, Eds.”
“I think I should just put some lotion on your back,” he summarizes with a shrug, already rising from his chair to swing his legs over the side of it. “You know, just to be safe.”
The teasing glint in his eyes makes you grin. You trap your bottom lip between your teeth to dim its brightness, lest how happy he makes you go to his head.
Your feet lift in their air and twist together with a girlish excitement. It makes your ass wiggle gently. Eddie swears you’re doing it just to tease him.
“Get my legs, too, while you’re at, yeah?” you quip.
Eddie reaches for the tote beside your chair with an effervescence that can only be described as a boy on Christmas morning — his present: the opportunity to touch you. He rises again with the blue bottle in his hand.
A low whistle sounds from behind the both of you.
“Looking good, sweetheart,” Billy compliments with a smirk as he walks by your chair. He’s in his lifeguard uniform — a pair of red swim trunks and his toned, golden torso.
He lifts his sunglasses from his face and rests them on top of his curled mullet. His crystal blue eyes gape at you, far sharper than Eddie’s chocolate syrup ones.
“Bite me, Hargrove,” you deadpan in response.
“I like the sound of that,” he laughs, chomping spearmint gum between his pearly white teeth. He spins on his flip-flops and walks backward to keep ogling at you. “Just give me the word and I’m yours, darlin’.”
He disappears in the bustling crowd after that, fading like rubbed-in sunscreen. You forget about him the second he’s gone.
He’s always been an asshole like that. It’d be a rookie mistake to give more than half a shit about him. But Eddie still feels the boy’s presence like a mean, lean, green monster full of envy. It’s like he’s still there — close enough to punch, even.
He isn’t sure if it’s the heat or if he’s actually seeing red.
“What an asshole,” you murmur under your breath.
“I’m gonna kill him,” Eddie snaps.
“Whoa,” you drawl within a laugh. “Slow your roll, tiger.”
The boy's eyes go wide as he looks over at you again. “I’m not even sure what I just said, honestly.”
“You’re a dork who plays Dungeons and Dragons, remember? You can’t start talking about fighting Billy Hargrove.”
“Yeah. You’re probably right,” he sighs, rigid body finally loosening with the heavy exhale. He squints at you after. “You don’t think I could take him?”
“I don’t thank you have to,” you lilt.
“That’s such a non-answer, babe.”
“I’m just saying,” you giggle with a shrug. “I’m asking you to feel me up, Eds. Not that creep.”
A rosy smirk tugs at the corners of his mouth, smug and full of love.
You meet it with a grin of your own. 
“C’mon, I’m burning to a crisp over here,” you urge, shifting in the chair just to make your thighs jiggle in the way you know Eddie likes.
His eyes glaze over at the sight — one he’s seen a million times now — and you know it’s done the trick.
“Let’s give Hargrove a show, yeah?”
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crimsongrimoire · 1 year
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have actually commenced cleaning up some tags, not major ones, just stuff i put in my tag directory thing
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specialagentlokitty · 11 months
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Zuko x reader - I want a future with you
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Zuko x water tribe/bender reader! Slime three years after the war he wants to propose to reader and so he ask Katara and Sokka about marriage traditions within the tribe and he carves a betrothal necklace?? And the readers reaction!! Thank you - Anon💜
Zuko gazed at you from across the water village as you smiled and sat in the snow, throwing snowballs with some of the children.
He was so utterly, and deeply in love with you, and he had been since he first laid eyes on you.
You were captivating and he was so proud and happy to be able to say that he was courting you.
But he didn’t want to just court you.
He looked around for Sokka, wanting to ask him about this, but when he couldn’t see Sokka, he began looking for Katara, and he found them both together.
“Zuko? We thought you left this morning.” Sokka said.
“I was supposed to. I have a question for you both actually.”
They nodded and the three of them went to the side to talk privately.
“I know how things work in the fire nation, traditions and everything. But I want to know how they work for the water nation.”
“Is there anything specific you want to know?” Katara smiled.
Zuko glanced around nervously and turned back to the duo.
“Marriage traditions…” he mumbled.
“You want to marry (Y/N)?!”
Zuko slapped his hand over Sokka’s mouth.
“Shut up!” Zuko hissed.
“Aw that’s so cute!” Katara beamed.
Sokka slapped the fire lords hand away and share a look with his sister and they both nodded their heads.
“We can help you, but it’ll take a few days.”
They took him away and explained everything he needed to know, gathered all the materials for him and they showed him what he could do.
“Do you have any ideas in mind?”
“Not yet, but (Y/N)s come to the fire nation next month so I’ve got time, thank you so much.”
The whole way home Zuko thought about what he wanted to do, and for days he was stuck up until he looked at the bracelet you had made him.
The little waves you had carefully carved, and he smiled brightly, a new idea entering his head.
He spent nearly a week working on it, trying to make sure it was perfected, then he put it in a little box on his nightstand while he waited.
When you arrived to the fire nation you ran through the city heading up to the palace.
Zuko was just leaving when he saw you running over.
The fire Lord opened his arms and you ran into them, and he laughed softly, wrapping his arms around you, pressing a small kiss to the top of your head.
“You’re early…” he whispered.
“There was a storm coming in, so I set off a day early.”
He hummed a little and nodded his head, watching as some of the guards come over with some of your things to bring them inside.
“I have a meeting, but meet me in the garden in an hour.”
You nodded and jumped up, softly kissing him and you ran away.
Zuko smiled as he watched you run into the palace to go to your shared room.
He knew exactly what you were doing, and he had no issue with it as he had the box in his pocket for safe keeping.
He could hardly pay attention during the meeting, all his thoughts were of you.
The moment it ended Zuko made his way to the garden as fast as he could, and he found you walked around wrapping up in one of his jackets.
Zuko stopped, smiling softly as he watched you for a moment.
“Dear?” He called.
You looked up from the flowers you were admiring and smiled, wondering over.
You stood in front of him and he reached out, taking your hands in his.
Zuko raised your hands and gently kissed the back of your knuckles.
“I have something for you, close your eyes and hold out your hands.”
“Oh?”
You did as he said, and you felt something being placed in your palms.
“I love you and I.. I really tried.” He said.
You opened your eyes and looked at the open box, a soft gasp leaving your mouth.
You reached out, carefully picking it up, and Zuko took the box and he set it aside.
“Do you know what this is Zuko…?”
“I do. And I hope you consider accepting (Y/N). I love you, I want to marry you.”
You smiled to yourself, running you fingers over the carvings of the water and fire nation symbols.
It was kind of messy, and you could see where he had make a few mistakes or gotten angry and accidentally burned the wood.
But it was perfect.
“I want to marry you too Zuko…”
Zuko grinned brightly and he gently took it from you, putting it around your neck and he slowly moved his hands to cradle your face.
He ran his thumbs along your cheeks.
You reached up and wrapped your arms around his neck, and he leant down, brushing his nose against yours.
“I’ve wanted to marry you for ages…” you whispered
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spacedace · 29 days
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Still thinking about the Social Worker Jazz concept that @gilbirda posted about and it's slowly turning into a full Anger Management fic send help
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Jason at length - much longer than it really should have taken really - set the resume down.
The new Social Worker’s resume. Because she was there, in his office, trying to convince him to hire her as a member of his criminal organization.
Crime Alley’s new social worker. A bright eyed Midwestern transplant from some tiny speck of a place that only qualified as a city because there was nothing bigger in a hundred miles in any direction to claim otherwise. The new social worker who had a Psy D. and three masters degrees and who had graduated Valedictorian. The one that had high paying private gigs lined up all over the country with the offering companies fighting over her.
The one who had, apparently, decided to take a shit job in Gotham’s shoddy social services department instead. The one that got kicked to Crime Alley - which was its own division despite technically being a small neighborhood in the grand scheme of things - within her first month. Supposedly for the sole purpose of scaring her off or getting her killed for all the questions she was asking and secret dealings she was sticking her nose into.
That social worker.
“I’m gonna need you to run this by me again.” Jason said, never so grateful for the voice modulator in his helmet as he was in that moment. It stripped out the bewilderment that had bled through into his words and made him sound stoic instead.
“I’d like to work for you.” The social worker - one Dr. Jasmine Nightingale - repeated primly. Back straight, clothes neat - if skewing more on the librarian side of professional - expression confident and hopeful. Completely and utterly oblivious of how fucking insane she sounded. “I was told that you’re the person in charge of Crime Alley.”
He resisted the urge to scrub at his face. It’d just look weird with his helmet on and not do anything to actually settle him in that moment anyway. “I understood that part.”
“Look, Doc,” She earned a doctorate and she was crazy enough to waltz into the office of one of Gotham’s most powerful Crime Lords, he’d be respectful about using her proper title at least, even if he suspected she was ten pounds of crazy in a five pound bag. “You’re going to have to tell me why. I was under the impression the only reason you ended up dumped on our end of the city ws because you wouldn’t play ball. But now you want to sign up for my crew?”
Nightingale frowned a little at that.
“Is that what people are saying?”
“What else are they gonna say?” Jason answered, leaning back in his seat, “Head of the department only dumps Crime Alley on folks he don’t like. And everyone knows he doesn’t like anyone that can’t or won’t play his game by his rules.”
“Alright, well. I’ll give you that.” Nightingale conceded, “Payne doesn’t like me. The feeling’s mutual. But for the record,” She added giving him a wry smile, as if sharing wry smiles with Red Hood was just something people did, “I asked to be assigned to the Park Row and Bowery neighborhoods.”
“You wanted to work here.”
“Yes.”
“Bullshit.”
Nightingale laughed. It was a bright sound. Not especially clear or pretty, but warm and welcoming in a way that carefully calculated giggles or overdone guffaws couldn’t be. Something with real and honest amusement in it, that encouraged those nearby to laugh along. Not the kind of involuntary, nervous chuckling people tended to slip into when they thought they had pissed someone that scared them off.
She just wasn’t intimidated by him at all, was she?
Behind his helmet, Jason found himself smiling. Just a bit.
“I’m serious.” She assured, blue-green eyes meeting the dark stare of his helmet without a moment of hesitation. He watched as she brushed a lock of her bright red hair behind her ear and out of the way. She’d woven it all into a practical, neat braid but a few sly pieces had snuck out to bounce around her. Gilding her quiet professionalism with a playful charm that worked well with her academia but make it cottagecore kindergarten teacher aesthetic.
“I’ll admit, Gotham wasn’t part of my plan when I first graduated. Time and choices take you funny places sometimes.” She plucked an invisible bit of lint off her soft blue cardigan, not nervous but absent as her gaze went distant for a moment. Thinking back on the events that had led her to his fine city. In a blink, those sharp eyes were back to focusing entirely on him. “But Gotham is where I am now, and I want to help.”
She looked at him, a serious, determined expression settling easily on her face. “The city as a whole has so much chaos and crime breaking out all the time.” No censure or horror in her voice, just a neutral fact to be observed. “But where the rest of the city has millions of dollars poured into it by various foundations or charities run by the Waynes, Park Row is largely ignored.”
Jason watched as steeliness sharpened her gaze, the blue-green shifting from the shine of a bird’s wing to the warning hue of something poisonous and deadly. “No one deserves that. No one.” Her chin tilted up, proud but not imperious. “So yes, I want to work here. There are people in Park Row and the Bowery who need help and I refuse to let any of them feel like they are going to be ignored.”
Jason considered her.
Really looked at her. Pealing back his initial off handed impression of her as some clueless transplant in over her head with no idea of what she was doing or what she was poking her nose into to find the real woman beneath. Her confident poise, her clear unshakable belief, her unflinching willingness to look danger in the eye and not blink. The tense curve of her frown, the lines of pain at the corners of her eyes, the simmering anger beneath it all. There was an edge to her, too. Something sharp and dangerously well hidden by the cardigan and folksy charm of her accent.
It was personal for the woman before him, Jason realized. Maybe not Crime Alley specifically, but something about the whole situation. The treatment the neighborhood and its residents received from the city at large, from those even beyond it.
Crime Alley wasn’t a place that received much in the way of charitable thought. The average joe with their house in Somerset and job at some corporate shithole hating every second of their life but thinking at least I don’t live in Crime Alley. Those asshole hoity-toites in city hall throwing money around equally between shit that’d get them re-elected and their off-shore slush funds in the Caymens doing their damn level best to pretend the black mark on the other end of the city just didn’t exist. Bruce, flooding the entire city with charitable programs and carefully constructed infrastructures shying away from the manifested grief and trauma that was the place he watched his parents get murdered.
For the most part no one from outside of the Alley gave a shit about the Alley other than as a place to avoid at all costs. And most of the time those natives that manages to claw their way out into better and brighter lives didn’t ever turn to glance back. Orpheus could have learned a thing or to from an ex-Alley Kid who managed to eek out a steady 9-to-5 and move to Burnley.
And something about that seemed to piss Dr. Jasmine Nightingale Psy. D right the fuck off.
He could see why Bill said he liked her enough to let her in.
“Alright.” He said, tilting his head, watching the woman seated across from him carefully, “Still doesn’t explain what you’re doing here. Why you’re trying to get on my payroll.”
“I’m not trying to get on your payroll.” She said, some of the glinting edge softening, but the steel remaining. Strong and unyielding. “I’m trying to get into your community outreach program.”
Jason thanked god and all the saints once again for the gift of his helmet. That baby had saved his ass more times than he could count both by keeping his head in one piece and keeping his stupefied expressions wrapped up and hidden from view. Dr. Nightingale was one hell of a woman to make him have to rely on that fact twice in one conversation.
“Wasn’t aware that was something I had.”
Nightingale, not fortunate enough to have a full face covering helmet of her own, had nothing to hide her stupefied expression behind. Jason had a feeling she might have removed it to make sure he saw even if she did though. She looked like she had caught him eating glue like it was a cheese stick.
“Yes you do.” She said, sounding deeply confused but unshakable confident in what she was saying. “I’ve seen it. The soup kitchens, the shelters, the collection boxes for donating old clothes, the after school day care.” Nightingale ticked off on her fingers, “I’ve lived here for less than two weeks and I’ve lost count of all the things I’ve seen setup to help people struggling in the area that I’ve been very reliably informed you and your organization are behind.”
Oh.
Those.
“Those aren’t part of some community outreach program.” He said, “We are simply locals offering services for our neighbors.”
He watched as her caught-him-eating-glue expression shifted into one that said she’d stumbled upon him licking electrical sockets for a mid-day pick-me-up instead. He had to give it to her, the woman was not afraid to let one of the most dangerous men in the city know she thought he was a fucking idiot.
“Let me see if I understand this right.” She said, and he appreciated that there wasn’t any kind of condescension in her voice, even though she very clearly thought he’d been dropped on his head as a baby. Possibly from the top of a three story building. “You have a large group of people working together to plan, organize and execute multiple services in your area - your community, if you will - that provide aid and support to those that otherwise would not receive it. Reaching out with your available time and resources to offer these services, that you provide. For free.”
Alright, Jason got it. He had stumbled ass backwards into creating a community outreach program. But he wasn’t just going to let her think she won this one. He was Red Hood, he had a reputation to uphold here.
“What makes you think any of that is free?” He tilted his head at just the right angle, the one that cast shadows across the planes of his helmet and made him look hell-touched and terrifying. “Just because we don’t charge money, doesn’t mean there isn’t a price to pay.”
Dr. Nightingale, dressed like a damn kindergarten teacher, laughed at him.
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readychilledwine · 2 months
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Hiii helloooo. Back with another request that popped into my brain if it interests you enough to write it into existence ✨ so Az lives in an apartment/condo in velaris that he rents from an old high fae lady who owns the building and she also lives there with her granddaughter (YN/reader/OC) who is def his mate but they dance around it for her sake (and her poor old grandmother’s lol) since she’s still young for a fae. Oh and idk why but I imagine Az having a cat that reader takes care of while he’s on missions. Once a week, without fail, Az has breakfast with the old lady and her granddaughter. If he’s going on an extended mission, he always lets them know he won’t make it and he tells them in person or sends his shadows with the message. One time, he gets severely injured before he’s able to send word that he won’t make it to breakfast. The old lady sends her granddaughter to the townhouse to look for Az and feyre or cassian answers the door and is completely baffled that a girl and her cat are asking around for the spymaster. Like “well he didn’t come for breakfast today and he ALWAYS comes for breakfast and grandma was worried and so was (insert cute cat name) and she wouldn’t stop yowling so I had to bring her to look for him too” reader is def an awkwardly endearing rambler. (And if the cat is buddies with his shadows that would be totally adorable too 🥹) and then maybe it ends off with her (gently) smacking azriel upside the head while he’s on his sickbed healing because how dare he not tell her and her grandma that he was going to get injured and miss their weekly breakfast 😡 feel free to change anything up if you end up writing it!!
The Breakfast Club
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Summary - After missing breakfast unexpectedly, a hidden relationship is revealed to Azriel's family, who can't tell if they're more surprised by you or his cat.
Warnings - mentions of injury, stray kitten mentioned, fluff
💙Peep the Azriel Masterlist here💙
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To say you were nervous as you approached the High Lord's townhouse was an understatement.
In the 4 all too short and unexpected years of knowing Azriel, the last of which had been spent as much more than just friends, he had never missed breakfast with you and your grandmother. And if he had, it had come with a note or prior notice.
He had not shown up today, breaking your grandma's heart as she had prepared his favorites. It had set worry into your heart, though. Worry you masked as the two of you ate in deafening silence.
You two had hidden the growing romance so well. You didn't want to ruin the illusion now and risk your grandmother becoming protective over your youth and, of course, his reputation and profession.
You held his black kitten closer to you, kissing her little white paws as she mewed softly. She had protested you leaving his apartment to look for him without her, wanting to live up to her name as you tucked her into the hooded jacket you had custom-made to carry the kitten.
The poor baby probably missed her owner, her constant companion, more than she could truly express. You were used to caring for her when he was gone, but he normally always left one or two shadows for her to play with, and today, they were gone.
You'd had a whole explanation planned, rehearsing it quietly on the walk here over and over, but it went out the window the second you opened your mouth. You rushed through the words, stumbling over them as you looked down and away from him. "EverysundayAzrielhasbreakfastwithmygrandmaandIbuthedidn'tshowuptodayandInjstwantedtoknow-"
You shook the feeling of dread building in your stomach and knocked. You would be lying if you said you were not scared when the High Lord himself answered his own door studying you like a textbook. "What can I help you with?"
Rhysand held a hand up to you, scenting the faint smell of cedar and night air that clung to you and smirking before masking it. "Breathe. Start over slower." He tilted your head up to him. "And look at me when you speak to me. You are not a mouse."
You took two deep breaths, cradling Dective Mittens closer. "My grandmother owns the apartment complex Azriel lives in," the High Lord's lip twitched, the final confirmation he needed. "And every Sunday, he had breakfast with us. The only time he doesn't, he lets us know with a shadow or a note or verbally before he leaves. He did not come today, and he was supposed to be back 3 days ago. I just wanted to know if you've heard from him?"
"You're the female he's been missing family brunch for." It wasn't a question. Just a statement. Rhysand kicked off the door frame. "Come inside. He's here. He's hurt, but he will be fine." He glared towards the small kitten in your arms. "And where did that come from?"
"Detective Mittens?" He nodded, continuing to glare. "Azriel's cat? You didn't know he had a cat? She got upset when I tried to leave her in his apartment, so I brought her with me so she'd stop crying and yowling."
Rhys pinched his noses, shoulders shaking as he chuckled. "And who named Detective Mittens?"
"Azriel? It was Detective Mittens or Princess Buttercup. She isn't a Buttercup."
His eyes were watering from laughter, shoulders fully shaking as he led you further into the house and up the stairs. He held his arms out, nodding towards the cat as he stepped in front of a room. "Stay behind me," the High lord entered with a casual grace, stopping a conversation between two deep voices. Azriel's and one you didn't know.
The black collar with a small piece of Azriel's siphon was barely visible among Mittens's long black fur. She finally freed herself, leaping into the bed and walking to lay on Azriel's chest. "How did you get here, baby?"
Mittens was immediately squirming and clawing, desperate to get to her owner and get the cuddles she had been missing. "Did you go outside and pick up a random cat, Rhysie?" A large illyrian male, Cassian, you realized, sat staring with a brow up. "Or did you steal someone's cat? It has a collar."
"Some pretty little thing was at the door. Dropped the cat off and then ran away."
A shadow had already found you, twirling into your hand and ripping you towards Azriel the best it could by itself. Soon, two more joined, then three more, then your whole arm was swallowed in darkness, pulling you to the side of the bed Cassian was not occupying. "Y/n," it came out as soft surprise, happiness underlying the tone. "Angel, what are you doing here?"
"It's Sunday." The answer hit him, and his head fell back, eyes shutting as Cassian and Rhys shared a look.
He tried to sit up, only to be stopped by Cassian's arms, guiding him back down as he winced in pain. "Angel, I'm so sorry. I-"
"Don't apologize for getting hurt," Cassian said gently. The general looked at you. "Breakfast girl?" You nodded. "One. Breakfast was mine and Azriel's thing first until you showed up," a playful glare went your way. "Two. We dropped the ball. He was hurt. Bad. And we knew he was seeing someone, but it's been kept so secret by a certain spymaster that we couldn't contact you."
"Should have just spoken to the complex owner," Rhys muttered under his breath.
You nodded. "And, will you be okay?"
Azriel was focused in Mittens, scratching her ears as she rolled over, exposing the fur of her tummy and waiting. The three of you stared in silence, watching as he cooed and baby spoke to her. Watching as a few tears slipped. "Missed you so much, my little baby. Aw, look at that belly. Y/n been doing the best job keeping it full and happy, huh?"
Rhys and Cassian both hid their smiles, the High Lord motioning for the general to leave the room. You sat on the bed, taking his free hand in yours, bringing it to your cheek and holding it there. "I was so worried."
Mittens moved to the window as if she suspected you two needed room, allowing you two alone time before she'd be back to cover Azriel in her love and warmth.
He wanted to sit up, to hold you close, but every slight movement of his core had nerves screaming in hot agony. He'd never mock Cass for being a bitch while hid guts were hanging out ever again. He settled for moving his hand to your neck, pulling you close and resting your foreheads together. "Im so sorry, y/n," he kissed your nose, eyes closing as yours did. "I got distracted, and it happened so fast I couldn't get word out."
Your hands came to rest on his bandaged chest. "What happened? You never get distracted." He smiled, a rare beautiful thong he hid from everyone but you.
"You accidently tugged the bond when you and Mittens were playing, and all I could think of was getting home to be with you two. Did you catch that stray?" He changed the subject, looking at you with hopeful eyes.
A small orange tabby had been roaming around the apartments. Short little fur "doing nothing," in Azriel's words, to protect it from the Night chill. Azriel has been smitten with it since it allowed him to feed him and get a few scratched in before a shop owner scared it away.
That was over a month ago, and you two had been playing a slow game of seduction with the kitten, praying to the cat distribution powers that they'd allow this little one to trust you both the way Mittens grew to.
"I did. He's in my apartment. Him and Mittens get along really well." As of hearing her name, a mass of black fur launched herself onto the bed, curling up on Azriel's leg that was closet to you and purring. "I named him Investigator Whiskers."
You watched Azriel melt, groaning with a smile at the matching name. You could feel through that string his growing happiness as the same family you two had accidentally made grew, too. "I love you," he whispered softly with no sign of the ice Rhys had so loudly accused him of having in his heart.
"I love you, too. I'm glad you're going to be okay." Rhys and Cassian came back in to you two resting your foreheads against each other again, eyes shut, heart beats synced in time.
It made it even more comical to them when Azriel thought nothing of your hand moving up his arm, rest in his hair before you pulled away, and smacked him. "Ow! Y/n! What the fuck!"
"That," you smirked as you caught his hand that came to playfully tug your hair, "is for worrying my grandma. She made your favorites! You broke her heart! She thinks you hate us!"
"I was hurt!"
"Excuses, excuses!" He pulled you into him, not caring if the good of you had an audience and kissed you deeply. "Mmmm, forgiven," you muttered when he pulled away.
Azriel sighed. "Rhys, can you go get grandma. I think we need to tell her some things. And have lunch."
"Lunch sounds nice," Cassian said as he took his seat and glared at you. "Breakfast theif."
"Boyfriend theif," you shot back.
The room turned into you and Cassian having a playful argument as Azriel watched, fingers scratching behind soft velvety ears. He looked at Rhys, eyes warm with joy and happiness as Rhys looked between you and Cassian, who had fallen together like a puzzle. I like her, Rhys said into his mind. Keep her.
That's the plan, Azriel replied.
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General Taglist:
@hnyclover @glitterypirateduck @slytherinindisguise @mischiefmanager @bloodicka @starsinyourseyes @the-sweet-psycho @mariahoedt @rinalouu @sarawritestories @starryhiraeth @starswholistenanddreamsanswered @cumuluscranium @loneliestluvr
@elle4404
Azriel Taglist-
A/n-
Picture of my and baby daddy's kitten to pay the cat tax gods 💕
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kizoken · 2 months
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❝𝐈 𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐋𝐋𝐘 𝐖𝐀𝐍𝐓 𝐇𝐈𝐌 𝐁𝐀𝐂𝐊, 𝐁𝐔𝐓 𝐈𝐌 𝐊𝐈𝐍𝐃𝐀 𝐎𝐔𝐓 𝐎𝐅 𝐋𝐔𝐂𝐊
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𝐆. 𝐒𝐔𝐆𝐔𝐑𝐔 ❞
✶ smut ; afab!reader , jealous ex suguru , rich girl!reader , oral , little angst , suguru jerks off with reader's panties , alcohol , make up sex , toxic relationship , biker!suguru .
✶ word count ; 1.4k
✶ m.list & request
✶ ❝took me fifteen centuries to get back on the grind but, whatever.❞
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"he's staring at you...again." your friend yelled to you through the booming music. you frowned and stopped kissing the random cute guy that approached you. wiping your mouth, you asked her where he was.
"sitting by the bar." lo and behold, a daring and deathly stare was directed your way. but not to you precisely, to the random man that was taking advantage of your generosity. or that is what he thought. his gaze then set on yours and he smiled.
your face contorted at the sight of your ex-boyfriend's lurking eyes and shifted your attention to where you previously were. but the man you were making out was nowhere to be seen.
"suguru!" you cursed to yourself; it was clear this disappearance was orchestrated by him. "you called angel." his voice soft and tantalizing in your ear made you jolt back in disdain.
"you fucking asshole!" you looked at him, dead in the eye. "what did you do?!" he does this all the time, scaring your hook-ups away efficiently like a wonder pesticide. every move of his were foreign to your understanding, nevertheless, deep in the psyche of your mind you found this behavior cute.
"just watching out for the prettiest girl here...can't i?" he smiled and placed a hand at the side of your neck. the friend that announced you suguru geto was prowling around, swiftly began to intervene before you settled her down.
"love the thought! though worry about yourself and your people rather than you ex. it's not a good look on you." you give him a sour smile. "makes you look like a stalker."
"don't call me that angel!" he pouted, "i can't help that every day i spend without your company is misery; how could i not miss you?" you despised how he tugged at your heart strings the way that he did. his deep voice purring how much he wanted you back, needed you or missed you. shame on you if you were going to get fooled a second time, you were not going to let yourself be with a man that had any woman at his disposition at his back and call. even when he had you.
but lord, did he make you feel like the only girl his eyes have ever seen, whose touch he's ever felt, whose lips he's ever kissed. you had everything at your beck and call, nothing was out of your grasp, except suguru geto and his fickle heart.
even if your fiery feelings were creeping back, rationality has yet to abandon you. "suguru; i am so not falling for your dirty, empty words— go and mind torture some other girl than me. i've had enough of you."
suguru was completely taken aback by your words. the last thing he wanted was to make you too uncomfortable, just a little tease here and there. but his intentions of going back to you were in his capabilities, sincere. "oh-i, i apologize," he took a deep breath, "let me make it up to you, yeah?"
"...fine." you conceded, too mentally drained by him, and you might as well take him for his money's worth, even when you could pay our own drinks. the booming music from the club was making you sick at this point, and you really wanted to go home. "don't try a thing."
you would regret not fighting enough to keep those words as they were. it was a terrible idea to take him up on his proposal to take you back to your parent's place. the terrible decisions began to pile up as you clutched yourself around his toned torse in the bike you knew all too well. arriving to your parents' and offering him a drink at their bar. the alcohol mixed with undying feelings for your ex-boyfriend led you to seek the comfort of his lips once again.
suguru happily obliged to your necessities, he was obviously subduing his as well. "i missed you so much..." you say between desperate kisses, halting yourself and placing your hand onto his chin gaining his full attention, "i fucking hate it; i hate you."
"don't say that beautiful...let me make you love me again, hmm?" he pouted, his sneaky hands trailed to settle on your ass, squeezing lightly but as a sign of him wanting more and masking his disdain by your words with his cheekiness. geto's drunken lips placed themselves around the cervices of your neck, making you remember how good he made you feel, no matter what.
you fell headfirst to his charming touch and began to let those barriers you have set up so high up to crumble, and just let yourself go. geto held on to your body, gripping it like the most coveted prize he's been fighting for. you both stumble up through the stairs, never leaving each other's lips.
geto knew exactly where you were taking him, your old room. as he stepped in deeper, memories of sneaking in from the window in his youth flashed through his mind. he laughed reminiscing about it, sweeping off your feet to hold you in the air he said; "remember the countless times i ran out the window without pants?"
"how could i forget," you giggled, "you always looked ridiculous." geto grumbled in playful annoyance as he threw you into the queen-sized bed.
"was i?" you nod.
he could not contain his smile, "anything to make you smile princess, even if i'm a fucking joke."
and so, it was mere seconds before your ex-lover was making you scream his name in ecstasy. geto delighted himself by how your pussy sucked him in vigorously.
the wet, sloppy noises of your cunt and geto's thighs slapping against yours echoed through your former bedroom. "yes~ sugu~ ah! moreee~!"
you loved that about him, how filthy he was in his pounding. your mewls hit a higher pitch as he began to play with your left nipple and your clit with his fingers. his thrusting never ceased, hitting every sweet spot there is to his knowledge.
"sugu~ your mouth...i-i ah" geto let out a moan, knowing exactly what you desired from him, and clamped harder on your bud. "fuck me with your mouth!"
"i need it hgn~ please, please, love!" your ex melted at your words; it was something he's been missing to hear. and none other girl could say to make him oblige to every word the way that you did.
"is that so pretty girl, you want my tongue inside your cunt?" he teased, loving the way you panted and twitched in desperation.
"yes! suguru, my pussy, use it, it's hgn~ ah! all yours..." your fingernails and tips dug around the muscular flesh of his arms, "always been."
the electric feeling induced you to keep your eyes shut during your plead. however you would instantly jolt, and your eyes opened fully as you sensed geto's skillful tongue tease a swipe all around your pussy.
"oh, yes!" you squeal, taking in every inch of his wet muscle's feel. geto's hands held on tightly around your thighs, caressing the plump skin of your legs. but he wanted to further feel your body, eager to reminisce how it used to feel.
relishing in the ensuring pleasure, you were surprised to feel geto's sturdy hand reach out for your own as it laid clench on your chest. you loosen your grip once you feel his touch.
your moans never failed to vibrate in the spacious room, inciting your ex-lover to grant a generous relief to his shaft. though in his mind it was not enough, so he rummaged throughout the messy sheets into finding a thin, small fabric you own.
geto unfolded the scrunched underwear and placed it on his cock, he began to caress himself around with the help of your panties. he stuttered as he pumped his relief while using something only of your own usage, as well as being one of the most private things a person could possess. his oral performance rallied all over your pussy.
the soft fabric of your panties made your ex moan, whimper and lap at your pussy with his tongue like a starved man, it sent you to overdrive, cumming all over his face.
"sugu, fuck, so good...keep it up." and those heavenly squeals of yours mixed with alcohol and tiredness, shoot heavy strings of his cum into your underwear with no remorse. taking a few, heavy breaths in, he calmed himself down and began to trail kisses around your body until it fell on your lips.
"can i stay?" he said with a cheeky tone and a full grin as he placed himself beside you. geto trails his arms on your naked torso, embracing you while waiting for your answer.
still panting and exhausted, though enjoying his comfort, you say, "fine."
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running-with-kn1ves · 2 months
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Drunken Stupor
A/N: this is based off of that drunken yan gangster idea that I couldn't get out of my head. I might rewrite it or do it differently but this is 4 u my 1 gangster lovin' anon for now!
OG Yandere Gangster Drabble (nsft) w/ da Yan Gangster Ramble
TW: kidnapping, drunken yandere, noncon kissing (no nsft), threats, toxic behavior, 
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Puzzles, accompanied by whatever news channel you could get through. Paint-by-number pictures, and shitty DVD’s from another time. Horribly thin sheets and an aching back--- you were completely, utterly, and seemingly irrevocably, isolated. The tight handcuffs around your feet only allowed you to hop around the house, barely making it to the front door before you tripped over the rug and nosedived into the cold, black floor. 
How long has it been? When was the last time you felt the spring wind on your face? You weren’t even allowed to open the windows, out of your captors fear of you screaming for help, even with him right next to you. He gave you countless things to keep yourself entertained, whether they be knitting grandma-like sweaters or taking up a different artistic hobby, anything that could keep you in one spot for long without the need to move or the option to hurt yourself. 
You were tempted to scream, to throw your half-finished puzzle at the wall and destroy the nice room set up for you that once belonged to the lone bachelor-- who, was much later than usual tonight. Your throat was too sore to keep up with the screaming however, and you pushed it to the back of your mind to try again tomorrow. If he came home all of a sudden and found you screaming at the ripe hour of 11 PM, he might do more than just threaten with one of his switchblades. 
You hated being around the bastard, feeling so terrified and weak like maybe today would finally be your last-- but at this point, you were going insane being by yourself for so long. Even a nice screaming match with him until your voice finally left you would more desirable than watching another 80s thriller that would haunt your dreams, alone. For someone who wasn’t home very often, he certainly had an extensive collection of old gangster movies, romcoms too even. But you couldn’t put Sixteen Candles on again without wanting to rip your eyes out-- not even one of his five million copies of The Godfather. Who needs that many copies of the same movie?
Your exhausted, beaten-down brain jolted at the sound of someone jerking at the door handle. The door practically thumped with the lock against the wall, dust raining as it was violently ripped back and forth. But then came the familiar jangle of an overloaded key ring, one you had heard most nights for what you can only assume has been the past month. 
Finally, your spiked anxiety crashed when you saw those familiar, much-too-shiny-for-a-gangster-to-be-wearing black leather shoes thump inside. You peaked your head out from your sitting position near the opened bedroom door, trying to get a glimpse without getting up and alerting him of your presence. It was inevitable for him to come to you, his kidnapee, but you tried to postpone the smothering for as long as possible. Maybe now was the time to chuck that puzzle. 
“You reallyyy gotta hold *hic* on mee…”
Mismatched footsteps trudged, stopping first to hit the corner of what you could only assume was the livingroom loveseat.
“Move outa ma way, couch! ..Even though you… treeat me *hic* badlyy..”
You heard the raking of fingernails on the couch cushions, the clink of a bottle rolling on the ground back and forth. You didn’t dare look back through the door crack. Maybe you should shut it? Lord knows what that would cause him to do, though. 
“You still gotts’a hold on me…” 
The sing-songy voice came closer, belonging to the madman you dreaded the return of. Within the crack of the door you saw a dark silhouette, the TV casting a face-shadowing glow that made you just an inch more terrified. 
“Hey, baby…” He hiccuped. 
“Well that’s new,” You started, looking away from him back to your puzzle. “When did I become your ‘baby’?” 
He moaned thoughtfully, thinking about your rhetorical question. “After you kidnapped me, I suppose?”
Maybe it was wrong to poke the beast, especially because he smelled like dirty whiskey and had three buttons too loose on his dress shirt, showing a deep scar betwixt his faint chest hair. A vulnerable image he’d never let you witness soberly. 
“Hrmmm….” He pushed his entire weight on the door, letting it creak open as he looked at you with a smile. 
“I dunno…maybe.” He laughed a little, giving a small snort like a schoolboy hearing his first nasty joke. 
You rolled your eyes. Damn, as if you weren’t on edge before, now you were going to have to deal with the equivalent of a murderous toddler who’s been threatening to hurt you ever since you were first brought here. Drunken fools were best left at the bar. 
But your icy demeanor didn’t sway his unsettingly good mood, the gangster opening the door all the way to flop onto your (unwillingly) shared bed. He dug his face into the sheets that smelled like you, looking at the back of your head that was pressed against the edge of the mattress.
“Was thinkin’ bout’cha…” He murmurs, tugging at a strand of your hair from behind. “Couldn’t stop talkin’ to the boys, ‘bout how pretty you are..” 
The short yanks at your hair to get your attention were becoming annoying, though you didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of glaring face-to-face. 
“Told em’ how nice you look when yer sleepin’, when ya brush ya teeth, sayin’ that they’re not allowed to have ya....”
You hummed in response, trying to bend away to get closer to your puzzle. But you could sense the bubbling in your stomach, could feel that something was coming. Whether it’d be a bunch of slobbered kisses or your early demise, you couldn’t tell. 
“Oh really?” You asked, knowing he’d been adamant on not saying a word or letting make a peep about your existence in his gang-funded condo. 
“Yah, I did. Don’t believe me? Said i’d cut their fingers off, like boss does when some’n fucks up. I’d slam into em, make em watch while I...” 
He went quiet, and you thanked whatever made him. Whatever he said, you didn’t want to know; you’d already had enough of an unwilling look into his violent thoughts. 
“Well, doesn’t matter now, right... ‘cause now I gots’ya here. Mmph,” You hear him kick his shoes off, his face coming up to bury in your hair. “Smellin’ so good, lookin’ so nice fr’ me… wanting you so bad.” 
The sound of him inhaling you, his nose pressed to your neck as he shimmies his head deeper against you like a cat is uncomfortably warm. You feel two hands creep up, looking for your shoulders to push you back and make you more accessible. 
The gangster wasn’t normally so affectionate, so quiet and simple when he spoke. You were waiting for it to be replaced by his normal, angrily resentful behavior, the type that’d pull you by the hair to kiss you, that’d rant about the idiots he’d had to deal with for the day at you. But maybe, just maybe, you were in the clear for now?
“You’re acting weird,” You try to jerk away. “I’m not in the mood to entertain you, okay? Just, let me do my puzzle in peace. Go take a shower or something.”
He’s quick to respond, wrapping veiny arms around your shoulders and dangerously close to your neck. 
“Nuh huh, not unless yer comin’ with me, wanna show how much I loove you,” His head pops up closer to yours, the stressed crinkles under his eyes making him look older. “Cuz’ baby, you reallyy gotta hold on mee..” 
“Stop stop stop.” You couldn’t take the second-hand embarassment of listening him to try to sing again, horribly off key and far too confident in each drawn out word. “What do I have to do to stop you from singing again?”
“I can’t hold it in though. Love’s too strong for you, love.” His disheveled hair, once slicked back in an oily black, now strewn about across his forehead as it nearly covers his eyebrows. He presses his forehead towards you. “Lemme kiss. Told the boys you give the best kisses, lemme prove it..”
“Prove what-- they’re not even here!” You try to go under his arm-barricade, only to be stopped as he practically puts his full weight forward, dragging him with you each time you move. 
“Lovin’ you for so long, jusst a kiss, just one kith..” He reaches for your cheek with his lips, ignoring how you whip your head around in retaliation.
“No, no! You stink like a bar and ciggarettes, get off me.”
He grunts in frustration, biting down on his lower lip as his dark, full eyebrows furrow together. 
“Let me kiss or i’ll.. I’ll gut you like a fish, my lovely..” 
You stopped at that, looking out of the corner of your eye to his pink-tinted cheeks and strong neck that sweated at the sight of you. 
He puts a ringed knuckle to your cheek, huffing as his eyes go half-lidded. His suit was all wrinkled from rolling around on the bed, dirty with the day’s work and bar-stench as he forced you back against the end of the mattress. 
“C’mon, don’t make me say stuff like that just for a kiss…” He whined, scooting closer. “Maybe I’ll start singing again, y’knoww, if y’don’t come close.” 
“Please just… don’t hurt me.” You mumbled, trying to avoid that blank, dark look he often held that came crawling back a moment ago. You didn’t want that sober side right now; this was somehow easier to handle, even if it meant losing your dignity. 
“Don’t wanna, never will,” He hums, staring unbothered at your lips, as if he wasn’t holding you tight enough to suffocate. “S’just kiss me, need it bad..” 
You looked around, as if there was anyone else looking, trying to avoid the task that made you shiver inside. 
But you didn’t get a chance to reject the drunken gangster again, his wet lips coming against the side of your face. He poked the tip of his tongue out, flicking against your lip before going tongue-first into your surprised mouth. 
Anytime he had tried to kiss you, to do anything overtly intimate, the most he released was the silent huffs of a man too wrapped up in himself to let you hear anything of pleasure. But now, you witnessed the lewd shlops of his lips against yours, the neediness of the back of his throat, groaning to be deeper inside of you. 
One of his heavy hands cradled the back of your head, his stupor not caring (or rather, not noticing) how little you moved, how you seemed to be backing into his large palm that massaged your hair. 
“Loved’ya forever, so happy you were so stupid…” He mumbles between licks to the corner of your lip, diving back into the sticky warmth of you. “What kinda… mph, idiot, doesn’t..hugh, report to the police..?” 
With his arm once wrapped around you, the gangster takes your limp wrist to his collar, bringing it to hold his loose tie. He makes you drag him closer, guiding your slow and frowning lips in his one-sided makeout session. 
“Not’ma fault, making your life so much better now.. N’now, you’re mine.” He grins, a stupid little grin from the alcohol and delusion swarming his head as he consumes you, fingers coming to fiddle with your cotton T-shirt as he draws lines down your chest. “My sweet sunshine, all mine, forever n’ ever.” 
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mtchacffinz · 2 days
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what a blunder!
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prompt!!! Arlecchino personally deals with your unwanted marriage proposal in her own unique way.
content!!! fem!reader x arlecchino, SFW, impatient arlecchino, violence mentioned, marriage proposal, possessive arlecchino
note!!! "Farlahr" is a made up character for the sake of this ficlet. The Doctor here is NOT Dottore. something about arlecchino tweaking and losing a few screws is so hot to me so here you go girls this one is for my strap on arlecchino riders 🙏 im so normal
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"He told me that if I consider him as my betrothed, I would be set for life." You smile up at her, albeit nervous. "Huh? Oh— Where are you going?"
Long empty corridors could carry even the faintest whispers. The moon peeks from the shadows, it's serene light softly caressing the harbingers figure— still, quiet, tensed. Her heels clang echoing all throughout the corridor, her gaze that was pinned straight forward seemed to pierce through the thick air surrounding the atmosphere.
Long empty corridors could carry even the faintest whispers, and Arlecchino failed to notice she started to hear her uneven breathing.
Peculiar. Truly peculiar..
"Right this way, Ma'am." Arlecchino set her gaze towards the head butler, greeted with the sight of a tensed figure in return. The head butler winces, stammering on his words. Was she glaring? She doesn't know. That's not important. She's needs to get through the door. "I- I will inform the Master of your arrival—"
"That will not be necessary." Her sultry voice cut through his words. "We have been long collaborators, a reunion shan't wait too long."
Her monochromatic figure heaves a soft breath, looking blankly towards the excessively pretentious door, it's sheer size looming over Arlecchino's figure— the entrance towards an office.
Eloquent and graceful, although her lips were painted with a polite smile, the person before her couldn't tell if the crimson woman was brewing something from within. The Knave was calculative and perceptive, an expert at keeping herself cold despite the scorching flames imbedded within her. The man kept his gaze at the floor, lacking the courage to even contest her gaze.
Those eyes, terrifying crimson hued crosses that could mess with your head tried to dare his optics to even catch a small gaze. Staring into them was ill advised indeed. The butler knew this for his heart was racing, and what added to the cold sweat undeniably trickling in his jaw was that Arlecchino stood unnervingly still— as if contemplating something under deep thought. Before anything could be done, Arlecchino firmly gripped the mansion door's handles in a few momemts, swinging it open with great force.
There had always been an air of nobility in Arlecchino's presence. As soon as she stepped foot into Farlahr's office, the doctor stood up in shock, startled.
"Please, excuse my abrupt visit, Doctor." Arlecchino deliberately spat out the title, a composed smile tugged at her lips. Farlahr's eyes widen at the sight of her monochromatic elegance painting his mansion floors with her presence.
"You're not too busy, I presume? Do let us catch up, I insist— I truly do." It was way beyond the wee hours of the night, the breeze was cold and unforgiving, and the doctor could feel it crawling up his spine. The Harbingers assertive words leave no room for arguments. As if there was an invisible wind from the room, forcing every bit of his movements to bend at her own will.
"I admit that it's quite off fashion to visit at this hour empty handed, Lord Harbinger." The man chuckled in an attempt to disperse the growing tension in the air. He swings his hands— decorated with glimmering stones to mask his nervousness. The woman quickly responded.
"I won't be empty handed for long."
"Pardon, Lord Harbinger?"
Arlecchino doesn't clarify any further, but directs her unwavering gaze to him. Dark, piercing. It was like a warning, a ticking bomb for the doctor to diffuse except there seemed to be no signs of dismissal any time soon.
His crisp smile quickly dropped.
"...I merely jest." Farlahr quickly followed up, as if it was the most amusing joke in the world. Arlecchino doesn't seem to share the same opinion, as her expression stood the same. Whatever The Knave came here for, he doesn't know just yet. And if he fails to catch on, Farlahr just might lose something. His head fell from the deep crevices of his panicked mind falling into one topic he suddenly could bring up as distraction.
With their history of collaborative partnership of 13 years, Arlecchino didn't have a single problem in regards to the business and it's contributions to the House of Hearth. Arlecchino didn't care for his obsessions with women and adulterous activities, the poised lady simply stood her ground due the information the Doctor withheld about the history of medical fallacies and treatments alike.
Arlecchino's rigid gaze quickly looked relaxed, unbothered. Her voice had voice lowered and her arms and legs sit crossed.
"I came here to offer a deal."
"And that is?"
It was no surprise to Arlecchino that Farlahr was a worldly man. Riches to riches, he has re-married at least three times and he's proud of that. Arlecchino didn't bother to comprehend his thought process. She believes that his brain was processed waste ideally converged with multiple nerves. His body reeked of metals, teeth gleaming brightly with silver. She kind of wishes she could rip it all out of his jaw..
"You will retract your marriage proposal." Arlecchino starts, "And I say this, your wealth, status, and people— all safeguarded as per usual."
Farlahr was taken aback by the sudden demand. He doesn't know if her statement stemmed from concern for his safety or a wake up call to his unethical hobbies. The opportunist in him say the opposite, it says that maybe you are some sort of leverage in this world— so valuable that even the 4th Harbinger of then fatui would personally come and abolish his plans of marrying you.
But the curiosity of his consciousness gnaws it's way out of his lips, asking one particular question.
"You disapprove of my wife and I?"
How disgusting. Utterly repulsive. Its almost an offense to your whole existence to be called a wife to someone as repugnant as him. The monochromatic grace managed to suppress her disgust by responding in a more poignant tone.
"Ah, forgive me." Arlecchino very slowly tilts her head, eyes unblinking. She effortlessly stands up from her seat, her coat elegantly swaying with her refined and poised movements, breath light as a feather— a shadow cast on her face.
"But I don't disapprove of your proposal, pig." In a moment, there was a switch in her tone. Her pointed high heels shoes dragged themselves against the expensive velvet carpet, dreaming to at least peirce through the back of a certain crisp, fragile cranium. With every step closer Arlecchino gets, the more Farlahr's heart pounds in his chest, daring to jump off.
She raises a hand and firmly places them on his shoulder.
"...I forbid it."
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Serenity was all that could be described throughout the night. And you, as a person of idle leisure in the evening, appreciated the tranquil breeze that brush past your cheek. A soft sigh escapes your lips, falling into deep thought. What is there to do? With the last 28 hours you were given to decide on an answer, you're left quite bewildered. Tapping your fingernails on the terrace by muscle memory, your train of thought was disturbed when you head familiar foot steps behind you.
You turn around to see a sight of dignified beauty, standing before your sleepless eyes. Arlecchino's presence, despite the abruption, quickly calmed your disgruntled nerves down.
But something was wrong. Before you could ask about the residual crimson stains on her cheek and darkened hands, she speaks in a tone softer than any voice you've heard her.
"If I may ask, my dove, could you marry someone with an absent ring finger?"
Wow. What a random question. Completely uncalled for. Maybe the ungodly hours of the night got to her? Despite the conspiracies flowing through your mind, you try hard to think of an answer.
"Hmm. I should rephrase that. Could you marry a man with no fingers?" Arlecchino ponders out loud, "Despite a marriage contract, you must need a ring to put on his finger, right? Quite a shame, really.."
"No, I don't think so. Wedding rings are to be put on ring fingers, if I recall correctly."
"That's a relief." You raise a brow, completely lost. You gaze at Arlecchino, a subtle triumphant look paints her expression, her fingers play around with her numerous rings that sit comfortably on her fingers. Taking one out, she approaches your figure.
"May I embrace you, my lady?" Suddenly, the Harbingers sultry voice was sullen, sulking. My, what's up with this woman? A moment ago she shows up with (possibly) blood around her person, and now she's asking for sudden physical contact? After just a consonant of the reply 'Yes' was uttered, Arlecchino quickly took you in her arms, embracing you deeply— taking in your presence wholely.
"How I wish I could rid you the scent of that swine." She loosens her grip for a moment, putting a stray hair strand behind your ear. All this feels like a fever dream.. you remember that just mere hours ago, Arlecchino's face looked grim and unpleasant when she received news of your sudden proposal— her reaction left you perplexed. You thought it would be a good idea since Farlahr was a good business partner of hers, why the grim expression?
You pat her back comfortingly. Before you could say anything, Arlecchino quickly lets go of you, standing perfectly straight. Her face once again unreadable— she speaks in a calm and collected manner.
"That fool said that if you'd marry him, you would be set for life." She recounts, almost irritated. Arlecchino's crimson crosses gaze was away from you, but hands traced their way back to your arms, carefully holding them in hers. Her thumbs brush the back of your hands affectionately, with tenderness and care in her voice. Arlecchino's knee made contact with the floor, and her hands delicately handled yours as if they were the most precious thing in the world.
"You must marry me. All he could offer you, I could provide tenfold."
All of the sudden, the wind started to pick up, and the ethereal lady before you never looked so grand. Her monochromatic hair danced with the cool breeze, and her crimson eyes looked from above, transfixed on your figure. Your throat felt like there was too many words you could spit out in one go, and you were terrified that you'd ruin the atmosphere by stammering over your words.
"Marry me so you are mine to gratify. This is a promise I can keep, unlike that farce. Even at your grave, my everlasting flames will be buried with you in the dirt where you lay— in turn that you will never freeze from the cold kiss of death." The Harbinger adds, tenderly placing a peck on your knuckles. Her gaze could contest even the eyes of Archons at this very moment, possessing full confidence that upholds the standards of her capabilities.
Compared to her, what could a limbless man offer you?
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my dumbass just woke up and decided to edit it a bit cus I was writing this at like, 3AM LMAOO, hello (⁠ ⁠ꈍ⁠ᴗ⁠ꈍ⁠) its me again, just dipping my toes in the water to see if I could still write 🤔
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halcyone-of-the-sea · 10 months
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Main Masterlist || Navigation || All works are F!Reader || All images sourced from Pinterest ||
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SONGS THAT SOUND LIKE SEA-FOAM || Mini-Series || Completed
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PAIRING: Fisherman!John Price x F!Mermaid!Reader
SYNOPSIS: In which a lone mermaid finds good company with a handsome fisherman who trespasses in her cove. But the word isn't what it used to be...hunting ships patrol the waters.
CHAPTERS: Part I, Part II, Part III
FANART: “You’re somethin’ beautiful, y’know that?” & "Mermaid Interpretation" by @thedevillovesflowers
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2. RUN AWAY TO ME || Mini-Series || Completed
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PAIRING: Blacksmith!Johnny 'Soap' MacTavish x F!Runaway Bride!Reader
SYNOPSIS: The night started with wine and ended with blood. Racing through the woods after having escaped your wedding, you find a lone homestead in the middle of a rainstorm. Alone, wounded, and bordering on unconsciousness, you have no option but to knock.
CHAPTERS: Part I, Part II, Part III
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3. BLOOD-STAINED WOOL SPUN AT MIDNIGHT || 18 + Mini-Series || Completed
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PAIRING: Werewolf!Ghost x F!Tailor!Reader (Set in Van Helsing Era/Aesthetic)
SYNOPSIS: When you left the town in the year of our Lord, 1897, to buy more wool from the local farmer, the cobblestone streets had come up to meet the hooves of your neighbor's horse.
Along this trip of false hope, the open fields at your sides had led to the backdrop of a brimstone forest; an old shadow seems to loom there. A black thing. A devil with eyes like a burial mound. You were told to fear the Ghost of the Forest, but never had you known you'd be caught in his blackened claws.
CHAPTERS: Part I, Part II, Part III
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4. BLACK METAL AND BOURBON || 18+ Mini-Series || Completed
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PAIRING: Biker/Mechanic!Ghost x F!Bartender!Reader
SYNOPSIS: You've been in this small town for your entire existence, giving up dreams and aspirations to carry on life as a simple bartender despite your hatred of two things: the smell of cigarette smoke and the disrespect from regulars, namely, your ex and his buddies. But on a still-air Sunday, almost overnight, a mechanics shop pops up right across the street - giving sight to new faces and a fresh group of men with a love of motorcycles. One, in particular, seems to only like Bourbon.
CHAPTERS: Part I, Part II, Part III
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5. TO HUNT A SILVER STAG || Mini-Series || Completed
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PAIRING: Knight!Kyle 'Gaz' Garrick x Fae!Princess!Reader
SYNOPSIS: Promised to a greedy king to try and preserve the magic of the land, a princess instead finds herself drawn to a chivalrous knight and his gentle words. But everyone knows magic has a mind of its own.
CHAPTERS: Part I, Part II, Part III
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6. HOW TO ADAPT TO FIRE || Mini-Series || Completed
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PAIRING: Fireman!John 'Soap' MacTavish x F!Journalist!Reader
SYNOPSIS: There is an arsonist in your city, and you're going to catch him. As one of the most prolific investigative journalists in the city, you make a lot of enemies the second your papers are released to the public. Your informant - and perhaps something more - in the local fire department makes a point to tell you to be careful.
But everyone knows he's right beside you when the fires start sparking.
CHAPTERS: Part I, Part II, Part III
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7. MOSS, BONE, AND A FALLING STAR || Mini-Series || Not Started
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PAIRING: Witch Hunter!Price x F!Witch!Reader
SYNOPSIS: Humans have not been kind to you, but they usually are to things that they don't understand. You're offered a deal when a rugged-looking Witch Hunter shows up at your secluded hut. Make him see you for what you truly are in three stories or less. You oblige and give him the limit - a story of moss, of bone, and of a falling star.
CHAPTERS: Part I, Part II, Part III
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8. VIVAMUS, MORIENDUM EST || Undetermined || Not Started
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PAIRING: Kyle 'Gaz' Garrick x F!Reader (Reincarnation AU)
SYNOPSIS: In every lifetime you made a promise to one another: even if you must die, you will find a way to live together for all of eternity, be that five or a hundred years from now. You'd not broken your promise yet.
CHAPTERS: Undetermined
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monstersighing · 19 days
Note
Hello! I sAw your intro and was intrigued. I have a request,- you don't have to if its too much-
imagine AFAB reader who is a devotee to this Eldritch being, seeing them as a deity or a God. As the world grew more modern/OR there's a great war. SOMETHING that lead the other devotees to not believe in this being anymore, bUt ofcouRse, our reader are devoted n loyal to the being, iN which the being will RewaRd the reader
You could get creative with this! I imagine when the reader prays, the Eldritch will speak to them telepathically, (whether to ask for a sacrafice- oR other *orDers~*) SO, reader has a voice kink ;). And soMe other stuff too- like corruption, tentacles, anal, cunnilingus, edging, and over stim pleasee-! (if its too much I understand-)
Bonus if our devotee reader was rlly innocent before hand :)
Thank You!! ~ 💫
Eldritch Being/Deity x AFAB Reader
Title: Fearfully and Wonderfully Made
NSFW, 18+, MDNI
Content: dubious consent, religious kink, corruption, tentacles, voice kink, praise kink, edging, overstim, mindfuck, double penetration (v and a), cunnilingus.
Notes: Thank you for the idea shooting star anon. This is probably the filthiest thing I’ve ever written. I hope you enjoy it.
Constructive feedback from readers is appreciated.
+++
Your God is one of secrets, veiled and hidden, his mysteries not fully known to you.
+++
When the army approaches, the convent Mother hands you a leather-bound book and tells you to run, as far and as fast as you can.
You stop after the sun begins to set. When you look back, you can see a thick plume of smoke rising in the air, above where the convent should be.
You find yourself alone for the first time in your life. All the temples to your God that you pass are ransacked and burned with no worshippers left.
When you pray, there is no answer. But you keep your faith.
You head east because that is where your God first revealed himself. You keep away from the towns, frightened of the men that gather in the streets with their loud voices and assessing eyes. You are innocent. You know what they would do to someone like you if you were found out.
The next evening, you page through the book that was given to you. Between prayers and invocations for your god it is illustrated: a penis twined in a feeler, spitting pearly beads of come from its fat head, breasts gripped by tentacles, men and women drawn with every hole stuffed, heads flung back in ecstasy.
You feel your crotch grow more sensitive and liquid with each page. You lie on your back and your hands roam under your clothes to pluck your nipples, then glide down your stomach to scratch at your thighs. When you can resist no longer, you open your thighs wide and rub two fingers across your soaking slit and push them inside.
You’re bucking against your fingers, almost at your climax, when you hear a voice.
Stop.
You freeze. There you are my little servant, the voice says, pleased.
After that each time you stop to rest and before you sleep your God is there telling you to touch yourself for him. You feel his presence as you push your fingers into your mouth to suck on and then rub at your clit. You chase your pleasure and each time your Lord tells you to stop, you do. Even when your body is shaking from the need to come. Your needy cunt throbs as you make your way to the place you will finally meet him.
You had been kept pure in the convent, awaiting the ritual that would make you your Lord’s bride. But when he demands you debase yourself you follow his command. He tells you where to go, and in these places, there is always someone willing to take your body and use it.
You will offer up your pain and your pleasure to me, your God says, and I will grow strong again.
You kneel in a stable, a cock pushed in your mouth then down your throat until tears leak from your eyes. At an inn, a man spanks you so hard that when you bounce in his lap after, the fingers digging into your ass leave you gasping. In front of a campfire, two men fill your mouth and cunt with their cocks so the movement of one pushes you deeper onto the other; after, a third man slides into your dripping cunt and his thrusts buckle your arms into the dirt. He pulls out to come and stripes your back with his spunk.
Each time, you climax to the rumble of your Lord’s approval in your head and his name on your tongue. The bruises on your knees, the ruined rasp of your voice, the spilt seed dirtying your flesh. All are marks of your devotion to him.
His voice becomes more powerful, a constant buzz filling your head that makes you shake and tremble.
+++
The temple you find is abandoned. But the altar is still there, surrounded by burnt-out candles.
A cloth-covered statue stands in front of the altar. You remove it, fold down to your knees and gaze at your God. The statue is the green of old copper. A shrouded face devoid of detail except for six eyes made of ruby. Numerous tentacles spill forth from under a mantle. You imagine those tendrils tight on your tender flesh.
You strip yourself bare and read the prayer to invoke your God. The cool air of the temple brings goosebumps to your skin, and you shiver. The anticipation of his arrival makes you wet. You clench your thighs around nothing, aching to be filled.
You know he has arrived by the scent that appears, like the air before the storm.
My most devoted one, he says.
The words warm you, but you are afraid to turn. You keep your eyes on the statue and reply, “My Lord”.
His tendrils slide across your arms and pull them behind your back. Your thighs are forced apart. A sticky tentacle pries its way into your mouth and holds down your tongue. Two more slide up your thighs where they rub in an alternating rhythm across your slit, sliding but not pressing in.
The first tentacle pushes in and seems to grow fatter. The stretch burns. The other rubs against your clit hard and insistent, and you whimper. Your hips twitch, wanting more. You feel your Lord touch the edges of your mind, and then push deeper, into your memories, even as the tentacle pushes deeper into your hole.
You are pressed to the stone floor of the temple as the length of the tentacle inside you rams in and out of your cunt with a squelching sound. The one in your mouth twines with your tongue and pulls. You feel the chilled stone floor against your cheek but also –
-- your hair being pulled as your face is fucked and –-
-- your already red and puffy nipples being bitten and --
-- come spattering over your face as you grind your hips back on another man’s cock and --
-- you feel your orgasm seize your body whole and --
Time stops, and you are held on the precipice of your orgasm.
You have made yourself my perfect servant, and you will reap the rewards.
And your orgasm crashes down and your God says, Now we begin.
Tentacles lift you and you are splayed on your back over the altar, your legs held wide. Your hands are released, and your God looms over you. You cannot see his face, only the suggestion of many eyes that makes you dizzy to look at. Your God dips his head, and a ridged tongue appears from under his hood. It rasps over your nipples making you squirm and then trails down to your stomach where it stops.
Hold yourself open for me.
You pull your cunt lips wide for his inspection. You see yourself then, through your lord’s eyes – your chest heaving, and your hole stretched ready to be fucked into - and feel his hunger.
So delicate, he says. So desperate.
His tongue laps against you, the irregular surface causing shocks of pleasure when it flicks over your clit. It wriggles inside you, torturously slow until you are filled to the brim. When his tongue begins to move your hands drop to the cool stone of the dais and you scrabble uselessly for purchase.
You cry out with loss when the tongue is removed, and then again with delight when he sheaths himself in your cunt with the thick tentacle that juts out of his mantle where a man’s cock would be. Two smaller tentacles spread your cheeks and drip fluid across your asshole, circling and pushing in you in a sinuous glide. Your body is full to bursting, and it trembles, overstimulated. The exquisite ache builds and when you climax again, it rips through you with every muscle tensing and then relaxing.
Your now limp body is buffeted by the three tentacles’ increasingly punishing thrusts, and you hear a loud “uhuhuhuh” echoing off the walls of the temple. Your foggy mind realizes that the noise is coming from you.
The tentacles press deep with a final hard grind and fluid spurts from them. The liquid fills your cunt and asshole. The two tenacles in your ass slip out, and you feel the fluid leak out of you and drip onto the floor.
A feeler plucks the hood from your God’s head. Another holds your face so you cannot look away.
You see your God’s face.
It is beautiful.
It is terrifying.
Looking into your Lord God’s many eyes, the most afraid and most joyful you have ever been, you think that this is what you were made for. To service your God in any way he sees fit.
You feel his approval clamour through your body. You come again clenching on the tentacle still spearing your cunt, and shake apart.
Then, all is dark.
+++
After, you crawl down from the altar and stand on legs that are as wobbly as a newborn colt. And it does feel like you have just been born, changed into something new.
Your God wraps you in a robe of silk, embroidered with a coiling design you remember from the convent. Draped in it, you walk out of the abandoned temple with your Lord God’s fluids still leaking out of you.
There is no fear left in you. You know what you must do: go and create new converts in any and every way your Lord asks.
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adventuringblind · 21 days
Text
Biology Sucks
Oscar Piastri x Reader
Genre: Fluff
Summary: Reader has really bad periods and is embarrassed about it. Oscar just wants to help.
Warnings: Really bad periods and everything that comes with them
Notes: To the requester, I feel you on the bad period thing. I hope this brings you the comfort you need to get through your next one!
Side Note: My inbox is open if you wanna come chat with me :)
Masterlist // Request Form // My Website // buy me a Ko-Fi
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It hurts. A familiar hurt, unfortunately, and she's not sure whether that's better or worse yet. Of all the things that could've happened on her date, it had to be this.
She excuses herself from the table. Oscar gives her a concerned look, but she waves it off. "Just need to freshen up." Oscar nods, but he doesn't look convinced.
Eight months, and he already knows how to read her like a book.
She ends up leaving her date early because she already knows how this ends. It'll look like she's gone to war and got stabbed lower than necessary. It also currently feels that way, and she's ready to throw up her guts if that's what it takes to make it stop.
Oscar texts her. Then he calls her. Eventually deciding she probably has fallen asleep if she wasn't feeling well and decides to do something for her in the morning.
The same event had happened last month, and she'd avoided him for the entire week. The brief topic of periods came up because he asked if that was it, and she'd told him they were considerably bad.
The benefit of having sisters is that he at least knows the basics here. He throws on some shoes in the early hours of the morning and heads out the door to the convenience store.
Oscar makes a guess from the information he's gleaned on what kinds of snacks she would like. He also throws a text to his mum to double-check because lord knows if he messes this up, she'll come for his head.
It's just past ten when he arrives at her flat and unlocks the door with the spare key. He questions if this could be considered breaking and entering since he technically didn't know the spare key would be hidden inside the bottom of a fake plant. Things to worry about later, he supposes.
He finds her sprawled out of the bed, a bottle of painkillers open on the side table. He drops his own bags on the grounds softly so he doesn't wake her.
Especially not when she's shivering in her sleep and he can see the sticky red coating the sheets. He determines to let her sleep until he has everything ready to clean her up. There is no point in letting her sit in it while awake for no reason.
He remembers specifically making trips to the store with his mum for bed sheets when his sisters had similar problems. He just wishes she felt comfortable telling him about it. Heaven help is was some bastard making her feel like this is gross and not some natural part of life.
He admits openly to punching one person in his lifetime. The boy who was picking on his sister for bleeding through her shorts while he was home for Christmas one year. He made the boys nose bleed and called him gross for it. Oscar tries not to think about what he would do now that he's bulked up.
He starts the bath, finds her extra clothes, including his own hoodie, and attempts to locate her spare sheets. He feels bad going through all her cupboards, but he doesn't want to wake her up to ask.
When everything is all set up, he sets himself down gently beside and caresses the side of her face until she wakes.
Initially, there is a look of terror on her face until she realizes it's just Oscar and not an intruder. "How'd you get in?"
"Your spare key wasn't hard to find."
She takes a breath to settle her heart. That's when she feels what's underneath her... and beside her... all around her, really. "I-" the tears are pathetic.
"It's okay, really! My sister's had some bad ones as did my mum. Can I touch you?"
The pit in her stomach ends up settling in confusion. She tilts her head. "You're not, like, disgusted?"
"It's biology, isn't it? Natural? I see no reason to be disgusted." It the certainty of which he says it that make the tears start.
Oscar coos at her, waiting until she's calmed down to set about getting her cleaned up. "I ran you a bath already. I figured you'd want it warm and bubbly."
She cries again. Not because she's upset - far from it - but nobody has ever done this for her. "I'm not sure what I did to deserve this."
"To be fair, I don't think you ask to bleed every month."
While she's in the bath, Oscar strips the bed down and recreates it how he thinks it should go. The key word here is thinks. His eye for aesthetics isn't the best, but he makes it work regardless.
Soon, she's out of the bath and in his hoodie. "Feeling any better?"
"A bit... thank you."
"Don't thank me yet, I'm not the best in the kitchen, so this might actually kill you instead."
She hesitate when he sits down on the couch and pats the spot beside him. "Aren't you worried I might bleed on you?"
"As far as I'm concerned, you could bleed on all my clothes and I'd happily purchase new ones if it means you'll come cuddle with me."
She relents and curls up in Oscar's lap. He turns on a movie and they both end up falling asleep to it.
Easy to say it's the best she's ever slept on her period. And when she wakes up to Oscar purchasing a new pair of sweats, he smiles at her. "I figure if it will help you stress less, I will get some extra clothes just in case." No hints of judgment or annoyance. Just Oscar trying to help.
Yeah, maybe periods don't have to be so miserable while he's around.
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