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m-ayo-o · 6 months

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KINKTOBER IV: DRUGGED starring: f!reader, megumi [25+], toji [mid 40s] synopsis: megumi is led down a dark path by his assassin father. his moral compass askew, lacking any real social experience, he's left to his own devices with a cute girl. thankfully, toji shows up in time to take control. warnings: murder, violence, spiking, drug use: narcotics + psychedelics. stripper!reader [who sometimes offers sex work]. virgin!megumi. restraints. choking. unprotected sex. incest [pussy sharing, dp, anal] guidance. non-con; reader starts to enjoy it [she is drugged] wc: 4.5k

⋆⁺/ don't like it? block it / do not interact i do not condone taking drugs. spiking is illegal. this is fiction

18+ EXPLICIT SEX | DARK CONTENT | HORROR THEMES

When Toji’s wife passed he managed to sell off his daughter to the notorious Zenin clan for a pretty penny, but decided to keep the ten shadows boy for himself.

Without his wife, daughter and clan, Toji’s life spiralled out of control and he took Megumi down with him.

Toji left everything behind, so did Megumi.

Toji became invisible, so did Megumi.

He corrupted him and dragged him into a cursed life of killing for money.

Leaving his boy in cheap, dusty hotels, Toji would go out to commit murder– it was as simple as grocery shopping for him, only returning home with his shirt all bloody and ripped. Young Megumi would eye his clothing curiously, his gaze wide and innocent, but would be too scared to utter a word. He knows his father has a terrible temper.

This routine continued until Megumi got older, into his late teens, when Toji thought it would be appropriate to start telling the young man about what he did. Then in his early twenties he started taking him along on his sinister missions, hunting. Lacking any formal education or training, he doubted his son would be of any use.

But Megumi had become intelligent and strong in his solitude, reading for entertainment and experimenting with his powers, his shikigami the only life forms to keep him company.

Despite his independence, having Toji as his only guiding light led the younger man to have a somewhat twisted view on reality, and as far as sound moral judgement goes, he simply does not possess it.

As an assassin, Toji likes a quick kill; clean and efficient, usually with a gun or a knife. He can get paid faster that way, delivering the body swiftly and avoiding any trouble.

But he’s noticed his son taking a liking to finishing his victims more personally.

⁺⋆

Another murderous evening had drawn to a close, their hands stained red once again, when he carelessly took his eyes off his son and their victim.

A young, powerful sorceress who’d seemingly pissed off the wrong crowd. Still, a surprisingly easy target for the assassin in training.

“Megumi, s’time to go,” the older man wipes his knife and cautiously looks along the alleyway.

His son is unresponsive.

Toji gets closer, squinting in the dark to find his hands wrapped around her neck.

She’s still alive, barely, but clinging on nonetheless, fading in and out of consciousness.

“What are you doing? Just– just fucking–”

“Wait”

The younger man’s stern voice halts Toji from slitting her throat.

And he watches his son squeeze the life out of the young woman.

His lips twitch when her eyes roll back. But still, his hand remains over her windpipe, feeling her pulse die when the last breaths escape her body.

“Megumi. We need to go.”

His son finally pulls away, and they become invisible once more.

Despite his grisly methods, not only did Megumi prove useful, but their missions also provided for some much needed father-son bonding time.

So, with his son reaching 25 years old, they got into this gruesome habit together, becoming partners.

Another habit Megumi picked up from the older man was his tendency to visit strip clubs after their kill. They were great places to hide, especially if you knew the owners well enough. And Toji knew each and every member of staff in this place; the managers, the bar staff, the girls.

And he knew a certain pretty little girl very well indeed.

Despite his many visits he never made any inappropriate advances, only paid to watch you dance. Maybe a lap dance every now and again if he was feeling particularly self gratuitous.

You share few words, but seem to have a mutual understanding of one another. You know that he loves watching you, and you’ve come to like his stern demeanour and surprisingly respectful attitude, enjoying his ability to scare off creepy customers. He’s kind of like your personal bodyguard at work. You feel lucky to have met him.

Unlike some of the halfwit scumbags that frequent the club, he’s a real man. From his assertive, deep tones, those muscles, perfect for manhandling little girls like you, and those sharp eyes, staring as if he wants your body as much as you want his.

But you have no idea what he does for work– he almost seems nocturnal.

Then you notice that he starts bringing someone else to the club.

His younger brother? His son? You can’t tell. But you know for certain that they’re related as soon as they step in together– their hair is styled differently, but is the same absolute black. The strobe lighting illuminates different colours in the younger man’s eyes, but they have the same glare. Their faces are a slightly different shape, but they have the same wicked smile.

How could there be two of him? One was already enough.

“Meet my son.”

Oh. He might be the same age as me. You think, studying his features– bags under his eyes, more height than muscle, cheeks slightly sunken.

His exchanges are awkward. He looks uncomfortable.

You offer him a dance, not knowing what else to do. You’re here to work, after all.

Toji pays for a private dance and you walk with his son to a booth, the older man giving him a wink and a devilish smile.

You draw the curtains and pause, looking at the way he’s fidgeting.

“Got a girlfriend?”

“No,” he replies tersely, narrowing his eyes.

You ask if he wants a lap dance, but he’s so hesitant that you just end up sitting next to him and chatting instead.

“So, do you enjoy working here?” he sounds less nervous now he’s gotten to know your name, at least.

“Yeah, nice customers for the most part, but the hours are pretty long.”

“Same with my job– the hours, I mean.”

“You don’t work with the public?”

“Sort of…” he trails off, dark eyes darting over your features.

You notice, despite your clothing revealing most of your body to him, that he’s focusing on your lips more than anything.

“You’re um,” he takes a long pause, dragging his gaze back to your eyes, “very pretty.”

How sweet. Your eyes widen slightly, a smile forming on your lips. You’re not used to sweet.

“Th-thank you.” you can’t help the stuttering– the way he’s looking at you with sudden intensity catches your tongue.

“Shall we–” you reach to open the curtain of the private booth, your arm caught in his strong grip, your body freezing.

“You– you can’t touch me–” does he not know that?

“Sorry” he retracts his hand, fiddling with his fingers.

“You change your mind or something?”

“No, I just wanted to… look at you, for a little longer,” you turn to face him again, “if that’s ok.”

So you nod and sit down.

He has a hungry look in his eyes now– he starts with your face, your eyes, in fact, making incredible, unwavering contact until you can’t take it, your pupils darting away to his amusement. Then he finds your mouth, and the way you’re chewing the inside of your cheek.

Then your neck, where he focuses intently on the slow thrum of your jugular. He licks his lips, making you squirm and wish he would’ve accepted the lap dance.

His gaze darts over the rest of your body and you watch the clock tick over to midnight, signalling fifteen minutes and the end of his private… whatever the fuck this was.

“Time’s up.” You stand and reach for the curtain, feeling his eyes remain over your figure as you step out and waltz back to the changing rooms.

You get off early tonight, having a final smoke with your colleagues when you see a text pop through from Toji. After exchanging numbers months ago, he barely contacts you, only asking where you are if you’re not at your regular shift.

[00:14] Toji

Come over?

You’re surprised he’s asking.

You’re tempted– after all, it is for Toji. You’ve been wanting him to reach out to you, thinking that he would’ve made his move much sooner. Every cell in your body is telling you not to do this, but you ignore the feeling, finding his hotel.

You enter the room– luckily for you, in a slightly nicer establishment than usual– still, one that is filled with the smell of alcohol and cannabis, the TV blaring on some late night gambling channel.

So they sit you down, welcoming you into their little games and bets, offering you hard liquor and joints till you’re tipsy.

After Toji’s multiple visits to your workplace, and seeing you at other clubs with your friends, he knows you’re into all kinds of drugs.

He caught you with white powder under your nose on one occasion, your pupils the size of the fucking moon another night, and with a blunt hanging out your mouth after work one evening.

He’s seen it all. He knows you’re a fiend. So… what’s the harm in pushing you a little further? Surely you can take it.

⁺⋆

Your eyelids are growing heavy, your body slumped on the floor against the coffee table while you stare at the TV in stupor. Their joints were just so packed it's nearly finished you off, and the last few drags tasted kinda funny.

“Can we tie her up now?”

You’re not sure if you heard that right, swivelling in the direction of the voice and blinking in disbelief.

You turn to find Toji with his legs spread wide, slouched back on the sofa where you left him, while the younger man stands holding some kind of cord in his hands.

Your eyes widen, your mind jolting awake when you see the way he pulls and grips it, stepping closer to you. Your body lags.

“Mm” Toji grunts, not taking his eyes off the TV.

Megumi takes this as permission to pull you up and drag you to the bedroom, your legs stumbling after your body, your mind succumbing to panic.

His hand tugs at your wrist, while you’re distracted by something strange in the edges of your vision. It’s subtle to start with, colours fading in where they weren’t before, shadows starting to move.

You try to ignore it, blaming the weed and flickering lights playing tricks on your mind.

You’re pulled from your daze when Megumi jerks your arms roughly, your vision readjusting to find yourself on the bed, your wrists forced to the frame in a tight knot of coarse, black rope.

“Mm– Megumi,” your voice comes out more slurred than you expected, confusion crossing your features, “w-what’re you doin’...”

“What does it look like?” He shoots back, his sharp tone making you recoil.

“I, I don’ know– jus’, w-where’s Toji?”

He watches your eyes dart about, enjoying your fearful expression.

You notice a sinister glint behind his indigo irises, his face looming closer and starting to cloud your vision.

You’re squirming now, pushing yourself up the bed, trying to distance yourself from him. But he keeps coming.

“Stay still…” he stops your motions with a single cool hand closing around your ankle, dark eyes trained on your throat again.

Time stops still when he leans in and places a single, chaste kiss over your neck.

He does it slowly. Gently. As if you’re the only one he’d kiss like this. His silent intensity makes you tremble.

He pulls away with a pleased hum, the feeling of your heartbeat making his lips tingle, his dark mess of hair illuminated with a dull halo.

He’s not too far gone. You could still go back.

“Y-you don’ have to do this,” you stumble, your voice cracking.

“I know,” he presses another kiss over your jaw, becoming ravenous now he can almost smell your fear, “but I want to…”

His voice disappears into the crook of your neck, where he starts sucking and tonguing.

He wants to taste you.

There’s a deep ache inside you now, gripping at your heart and filling your lungs, where it spreads to your throat– to where you can feel his mouth over you.

Nobody has ever kissed you like this before.

The way he sucks and bites is cruel, your body starting to flood with pain. If he does it any harder you’re sure he’s going to taste your blood. He’s going to puncture your neck and let it spill.

“M-megumi– please–” your whispered sobs only urge him on, till he’s dragging his canines over you and sinking them into the soft flesh.

His impassioned movements finally ebb as he switches to tending your marked skin with his tongue and lips, inhaling your scent deeply.

He sits up now, looking longingly into your tear stained eyes, his pupils drifting to where your lips are quivering with his name.

“I’m not going to hurt you,” he lies, stroking your ankles gently.

Standing up, he watches you shake your head again, begging him not to go any further and that you’d anticipated being with Toji tonight, asking where he is again.

“He’s a little busy…” he cranes his neck to ensure his father is still transfixed by the TV.

“Plus, you should be grateful,” he tugs off his belt, “you get to take my virginity.”

Your eyes fly wide, your mouth dry and gulping for air stupidly.

Just the way he looks puts you on edge– and now you know he has no experience, you can’t begin to fathom what he’s going to do to you.

“Nn-no– thought, thought Toji w-w–”

His next movements are too swift for your idle, drug induced brain to comprehend.

He’s over you, your arms twisted uncomfortably above your head, his cock nudging at the sweet bud of your clit.

That’s the only ‘foreplay’ you’ll be treated to before he slots himself up against your tight, unprepped entrance, shoving your dress and panties aside.

“Toji!!!” you cry out for the older man, “Toji, god–” but your voice is interrupted, choked by his cock sinking into you, hard and deep.

The man before you has changed, his resting scowl paling in comparison to the now fierce arch of his eyebrows.

Why are you crying for his father when he has everything you need right here?

“Ah– haah—” you shake and squirm, struggling with his untamed, crude thrusting.

Your head flies back when he pushes deeper still, slowly working your raw pussy open to the shape of him, while he watches fresh tears trickling over your waterline and gathering beautifully in the corners of your wide, glassy eyes.

“Hm,” he lets a little laugh escape, enjoying your quiet sobbing and whimpering as he gets rougher and dirtier, grabbing and marking your skin.

Your arms start to jostle and tug in the bindings, your wrists aching from the pressure.

“Untie me…” you sniffle.

“Untie you? But I haven’t even got started yet…”

He wipes the tears from your cheeks with his thumb, trailing his hand down your face and stroking the marks on your neck.

“Might untie you after I hear you scream,” he gives you an experimental squeeze, then leans closer, bringing his face down next to yours.

The way he’s talking has you wondering if he really is a virgin, your thought quickly dispelled by his hedonistic thrusting.

You can hear his shaky breath in your ear now, your legs lifting instinctively when you feel him haphazardly pressing on your g-spot.

“Yeah, open up f’me,” he whispers, sucking on your earlobe, his free arm encircling your head to cage you in closer.

You can feel his hips start to jolt unevenly. He’s close.

“D-don– don’ cum inside,” you beg, your eyes getting bleary as he constricts your windpipe.

You feel him smirking over your skin, speeding up his ragged motions, squeezing.

Your pained breaths consume him, urging him to crush your throat with a look in his eyes that makes you believe he’s going to take your life.

His pale, beautiful face hovers above yours, eyes enrapt by every miniscule expression of terror that passes your features.

“S-s—”

Your voice is gone, you can only fight for breath now, your body succumbing to a helpless fit.

You struggle. Kicking. Hips bucking.

He drinks it all in, thrusting mercilessly now.

“You can’t do that to her.”

You hear a sudden deep, booming voice, hands pulled from your neck, air flooding your lungs as you sputter and cough.

Toji takes his son’s arms and bends them behind his back, restraining him instantly and pulling him off you; out of you.

He lets the sight sink in for a moment, words failing him.

Toji’s affected by the drugs and booze, but he can still get some kind of hold on this fucked up situation.

“Look. Just let me show you… what you’re supposed to do,” he drawls into the younger man’s ear before releasing him.

Sure, he needs to take responsibility. But he can’t let you go. Not yet.

You shake your head again, watching the younger man struggling with his achy, hard boner after being denied his first raw dogging orgasm.

His father readjusts you on the bed to his own liking, leaving you tied up and taking your thighs in his beefy hands. He dips his head low, lips skimming over your neglected clit.

“‘M feelin’ hungry…” he mutters, proceeding to swirl his tongue through your heat, where his son’s cock was digging moments ago, humming while parting your labia and licking sensually at your little jewel.

However done you are with this situation, overcome with lightheadedness from your choking, you’re glad to at least be sent reeling through a few much needed orgasms.

And now you’ve had a chance to breathe and relax a little, you’re becoming aware of a shift in your consciousness.

Your body is right here, in this moment, experiencing every fleeting detail in high definition. But your mind is somewhere else, overcome with a feeling of simultaneous presence and dissociation.

The older man sits up, patting the bed for his son to join him.

“You ok, doll?”

He watches you look around curiously, taking in the room that’s now bending and changing before you.

“Think the lsd’s kickin’ in…” he mutters, “just lay back, promise we’re not gunna hurt ya.”

“The-the what?” you stutter, your hands starting to tense and grip in the restraints.

“Look, there were a few drops of acid in that last wrap, jus’ relax, ok?”

Fuck. You knew you shouldn’t have come here.

You let it sink in, taking a deep breath so you don’t lose your cool. You cannot let your mind spiral on this drug.

“That’s it,” he encourages you, “good girl. Jus’ let go.”

You give up trying to fight it, obeying his gentle tones, working past the nausea to find your mind and body entering a different headspace.

Reality fades in and out, feeling their tongues on you, one after the other, switching and exchanging till you’re unaware of what’s happening to you.

You can only sense their touch, submitting your body to the chemical pleasure.

Your clothes are torn off now, soft, deep words being exchanged until you feel them shifting around.

You feel the unmistakable nudging of a hardened cock at your entrance once more. Only this time, it slips through your folds easily, your slick hole welcoming the long, hard member.

You blink slowly, your vision wobbling as your mind enters a trance in sync with their rhythm.

“Megumi?” no, “Toji?” you honestly can’t tell, your faculties slowly dulling as the powerful drug takes over.

You reach out your arms hoping to discern who’s inside you, only for their body to move away as another frame enters your view.

You feel his cock sink in, hips rolling and stimulating your senses till you’re creaming and moaning around his girth.

“T-tojii–” you’re sure it must be the older man. He feels strong, manhandling you and pushing you wider.

But he pulls away too soon.

You focus hard, seeing both of them now, one figure in front of the other, one man guiding, the other following.

“...like this… take her… deep…” you can only make out a few words, wide eyes distracted by the scar on his lips.

But the way Megumi’s cock slides in is completely different than before– the feral jackhammering transformed into long drags, smooth and hard.

They exchange words, Megumi’s movements getting greedier until you feel his body consuming yours in a display of lust and passion so strong you let out a scream of his name.

The sound of your voice, combined with the grip of your pussy that’s drenched with the slick of a fresh orgasm, rips a groan from his depths.

You hear him panting and moaning, his thrusts getting sloppy, until he’s drawn out of you again.

That was close. You think, realising his father pulled him away before he could spill inside you.

Things are getting blurry now. They’re both over you, on you, in you.

With the surreal visuals taking over, your mind enters another realm while they kiss and fuck and share your body.

Spiky black hair, blue and green eyes flashing, hard muscles and sadistic smiles are all you can see.

Their images burn into your retina, becoming a blurred mirage of nightmarish beauty.

A sight that you will never forget.

Now that Toji’s brought his son up to speed and you’re all wet, you honestly can’t tell who is who.

So you sink into it, enjoying the spiralling visions behind your closed eyelids while they draw waves of orgasmic pleasure from your body.

They bend and move you, pinning your legs back, pushing deeper, then onto your knees. You’re getting so absorbed in the trip now, the euphoric energy taking over, that you’re only partly aware that you’re being lifted.

You’re off the bed, you know that much.

You’re in a pair of strong arms. It’s Toji. You smile, your eyes clearing to see his roguishly handsome face before you.

“Hey pretty girl,” he places tender kisses over your lips, and you accept them with pleasure, “gunna try somethin’ fun now…”

You giggle, liking the sound of that very much.

He holds you, his massive cock melting into your core so deep he’s going to become a part of you, then slides his fingers over your ass.

You feel another body behind you. Megumi.

You turn, feeling his lips over you as well, murmuring sweet praise in your ear the whole while.

You feel him sliding over your ass now, through the wet juice of your pussy, pushing into the tight ring.

“Oh, oh my– fuck–” he edges in, his father thrusting slowly while urging him to be gentle.

“Haahhh–” you breathe out, your head falling back onto Megumi’s hard shoulder where he caresses your skin with his lips.

“That’s– that’s fucking good,” he hums in your ear, pushing himself all the way back while grabbing your ass.

They cradle you, thrusting in tandem, as you reach a new level of bliss.

Hearing them, feeling them takes you higher, until you can only sense their deep moans vibrating through you, the drag of their cocks.

Your thoughts turn slippery, losing focus on the world around you, wondering how you ended up here in the first place, realising that you don’t care.

Right now, you care about the man in front of you, tall and broad, scarred lip between his teeth with dark green eyes fixed on yours.

His ever sombre stare resides behind those fiery irises.

It captivates you.

Your body is convulsing with dopamine once more, slurred thank yous leaving your lips, and all you can concentrate on is counting the shades of green in his eyes.

Flecks of amber shimmer within the emerald, his lashes blinking slowly, eyebrows quirking.

“Watcha lookin’ at?”

“Mm, pretty,” is all you can muster at this time, earning a snort of laughter.

He mutters under his breath and starts taking you harder till you feel him pulling you off his son and pushing you down on the bed.

Your legs spread, wide and obedient, holding yourself by the knees while he takes your nipples between his lips, between his teeth.

“How many times s’that now?” he feels you clenching and bucking again.

You just giggle and sigh, stroking his obsidian strands in a dreamy state.

He hums with pleasure; you feel his nose dipping into your neck, where he places soft, gentle kisses, in contrast to his now animalistic pace.

Letting off hot grunts and moans, he finally spills his hot, wet cum.

He pulls away, his son entering your vision once more.

Angling your ass up, he guides himself in again, enjoying the way your tight muscle spasms around him, but takes him all nonetheless.

His hips get nasty, drawing whimpers from you until he nears his release, growling and sinking his teeth into your marked skin.

“Fuck– fuck–” you tug at his jet black spikes, encouraging him to take all he needs until you feel his hot load shoot deep into you.

“Ugh, oh princess– fuck me–” he sighs, strong muscles overcome with exhaustion as he watches your beautiful features relax once more.

You feel peaceful, watching the gentle rise and fall of his chest, the way his hair hangs over those dark eyes.

Your wavering vision absorbs his graceful figure in all his glory, your mouth opening before your brain catches up.

“Art” you poke at his hardened stomach, earning a slight smile, “artist.” You look up at his father now, appreciating the view as he stands before you.

You giggle, laying back and focusing on the ebb and flow of your breath, feeling your senses leave you, your eyes resting as you enter transcendental sleep.

⁺⋆

You wake to find your body bare, but clean.

There’s no longer white liquid oozing from you– just soft, warm sheets and the fresh smell of soap.

You climb out of the bed, stepping to the bathroom, eyes still half lidded and hazy.

You look in the mirror, finding kaleidoscopic visuals in the reflection, where the glass bends and trembles.

But you can see your face. Unscathed. Unharmed. You look down. It’s just a few bruises. You’re fine.

Despite their questionable methods, this has been a good trip… and you have to admit, a very good fuck.

So in your giddy state, you tiptoe out to the main room, watching their heads turn from the TV, grins emerging.

“Mornin’ honey,” Toji coos. It’s dark outside. You have no idea what time it is.

You step over to the sofa, sinking between the two men again, taking their lips and tongues while their hands roam and fondle your body.

You sit back, enjoying how they’re drawn to you magnetically, allowing their pleasure to fill your body once more while you ride out the most ethereal high of your life.

⋆⁺ [see you in hell]

toji | m.list

#magic.kinktober⋆⁺#kinktober #kinktober 2023 #toji fushiguro #toji fushiguro smut #megumi fushiguro #megumi fushiguro smut #tw: murder #tw: violent death #tw: violence #tw: sex work #tw: inc*st #tw: drugs #tw: dubious consent #tw: dubcon #tw: noncon #tw: sex #tw: sex mention

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vidavalor · 9 months

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The kiss, the Book of Life and the fly...

I've not seen anyone talk about this in this way so here's a fun theory of sorts for you... one that might make the kiss hurt less, even?!?!

More under the big cutty thing...

So the threat of erasure from The Book of Life looms large, right? The Metatron's plan honestly looks like he was delaying Michael's Book of Life erasure plan for Aziraphale until he could lure Aziraphale away from Crowley and up to Heaven, which makes sense because Crowley is powerful and can raise the dead and all that, yes? Ok, so, because Aziraphale is in some major, major trouble here... let's presume this happens. Let's presume that all the foreshadowing of Aziraphale winding up getting some of Gabriel's plot from their paralleling happens and Aziraphale is stripped of memories and erased from existence. Slight problem here being...

...Good Omens largely cannot exist without Aziraphale and obviously Aziraphale is going to have to come back, correct? So how does he? Well, how did Gabriel? If you say "the fly", you are obviously correct but look a little deeper at what the fly actually *is*... it's literally *Beezelbub*.

It's not some random fly-- it's part of Beez's body/essence/whatever you want to call what demons have. Beez literally gives Gabriel their body and Gabriel chooses to hide his whole self there-- chooses the fly to keep himself safe and to stay with/get to be with Beez on some level, no matter what happened to him. Gabriel got to make conscious choices about all of this because he had a plan and got to try to enact one out. Aziraphale does not.

Aziraphale has been fooled into going to Heaven believing that The Metatron wants him to get to work as the new archangel but, in reality, the plan is to restart armageddon and end all life on earth. It's time for war and Aziraphale is probably inevitably going to get Book of Life'd at some point. They keep foreshadowing it and they also have parallels to it with Crowley unable to remember much pre-Fall, Aziraphale's discorporation and the Madame Tracy plot in S1, and other moments. So if Aziraphale gets erased from existence from being taken out of The Book of Life, he somehow has to *still in exist in some way*, theoretically, to be brought back... which would seem to not make sense as he was just erased, yes?

It cannot be as simple as Crowley snapping Mr. Brown of Brown's World of Carpets back into existence. Mr. Brown was a human who existed and was killed. Crowley brought him back to life. But an angel erased from The Book of Life is then a being who never existed, right? It's not resurrection; it'd be creation, which might be the one thing Crowley cannot do because you could argue only God could. So *some part of Aziraphale must still exist* for Crowley to use to bring him back, right? There has to be an Ineffable Husbands version of Beez's fly... and there is. We've already seen it.

Just like how the fly was Beez, Aziraphale remains alive within Crowley... but how? When?

Crowley's never offered that to Aziraphale, has he?

Oh, hasn't he just, though?

For the record, I'm not saying that Crowley is suddenly going to have a Madame Tracy plot where he's like possessed by Aziraphale lol. I *am* saying that Madame Tracy as a vessel for Aziraphale's essence, Beez's fly, and the S1 Crowley and Aziraphale body swap... all of these things together foreshadow how Aziraphale survives erasure from existence. Plus, this hilarious bit below from S1 that'll seem even funnier in retrospect...

...as here is Aziraphale in S1, in a state of semi-non-existence, in search of a body to live in long enough to try to stop the end of the world and he says to Crowley...

An angel and a demon... probably explode. Except... it's the opposite... and S2 illustrates that. In S2, they perform a miracle together and they do have immense power but it doesn't cause destruction. It protects Gabriel. At the end of the season, they kiss-- a paralleling of sorts to the shared miracle but also to other aspects of shared form. It's not possession, like Aziraphale and Madame Tracy (and like Adam's eventual separation of them/reviving of Aziraphale) and it's not the body swap at the end of S1 and it's not even quite as much yet of a sexual metaphor as 'you can find all of Gabriel's essence-- hook, line and sinker-- in a literal part of Beezelbub'... but all of those things foreshadow and suggest that Aziraphale might actually survive his trip up to Heaven because of the kiss that's literally breaking us all in pieces right now.

Because of Crowley loving him, really.

I'm not saying that Crowley intentionally set out to do this but even unintentionally, he could have opened a kind of container for Aziraphale equivalent to Beez's fly, which would then mean that Aziraphale is alive in S3... in the memories and essence of the being he loves and who loves him. Aziraphale cannot be fully erased by Heaven permanently because he's quite literally *a part of* Crowley now.

It was just (again) like Agnes said-- they were playing with fire and would need to choose their faces wisely.

#ineffable husbands #crowley #aziraphale #good omens theory #good omens meta #good omens s2 #good omens s2 spoilers #good omens

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velvetmud · 1 year

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Joel getting pegged?

oh yeah oh yeah he needs dis

warning(s): smut 18+ sub baby boy joel

the itching and craving wouldn’t go away.

not even three orgasms and a long nap later, both sticky and wet with sweat. limbs dead limp from the workout. joel might not be getting any younger, but he’s not letting that be any excuse not to give it to her good while he still can.

his eyes slowly drooped open and closed several times before fully waking up. the sight of her naked back pressed up against him nearly has his dick twitching with interest yet again. her face is still buried in the pillow she was screaming and drooling in just hours earlier. a stubborn hand is pressing against his chest. even in her slumber, not allowing him to move anywhere without her. she was extra rowdy today, begging for round after round, fucking on his dick every which way before begging him to take the lead at the very end.

and joel couldn’t stop wondering what all of that felt like, being on her end during the act.

completely at another’s mercy, bouncing forward with each and every thrust. deliciously filled up like filling in a pie. the sounds coming out are downright pathetic, all the whining and the crying. joel was more than happy being the one to draw those sounds out of her like that, but for him to be the one to get fucked that dumb, to be stripped of all his power and get his ass pounded into the mattress like a whore… would end him. and his dick. for eternity.

joel was never a prude or a square. he wasn’t afraid to stick a finger or two in his ass to up the tension when all’s he had was his own hands to work with. he felt how tight the ring of muscle was, knew it wouldn’t be exactly a picnic to train himself to take some more. but just imagining that when it starts to feel good, having more thrusting inside at better angles to hit all of his favorite spots, it’s worth it.

absentmindedly, his fingers soft as a feather as he began trailing down her spine. joel enjoys waking her up soft and slow, especially after all the pounding she’d taken directly from him today. once he hears her sigh and feels her stir up against him, he trails down further and further until he reached the cum that had settled between her lips from their last time. the squish made her chuckle while he groaned as if it hurt.

“sleep good, sweetheart?”

his face is in her neck while his fingers continue to play, creating a bigger mess beneath them.

“the best. but you’re already looking to start some more trouble, aren’t you?” she teased, backing up and giving him even better access. he couldn’t help himself but smile at that. cause she really has no idea.

“you still have some of those toys you’d use when I’m away, don’t you?”

her little fingers start to do some playing of their own in his salt and pepper hair, humming a soft yes, of course.

“mm. and lube?”

“what’re you thinking about, mister naughty boy?” she turns around to face him, closing the gap between their lips. it’s so easy to get distracted on her again.

“okay, but’cha gotta hear me out first, baby. don’t want you doin’ something or agreeing to something just to make me happy. want you to want it too,” he prefaces. she can see the gears grinding in his head, much too hard for her liking.

“you were just playing with your cum that was still inside me. pretty sure you know by now I’m not getting scared off.”

joel laughed at that, bringing her lips back to his again. saving himself another moment to muster up the courage.

“I know you know how to fuck, seen it with the way you move. so what if you brought one of them things out, lubed me up, pinned me down—“

she moves much too quickly for someone that appeared delirious moments ago, thighs on his chest and hair dangling down in his face.

“you want me to fuck you, miller?”

and without a doubt joel is hard. again.

he gulps, wide eyed. pulse skyrocketing as he summoned the bravery to nod. she doesn’t budge, a sudden pinch her brows like she’s annoyed.

“I’m gonna need a firm answer to even consider starting—“

fuck.</I> just fucking take him already.

”yes, yes baby, please. I-I want you to fuck me.”

all he can do is stay trapped under her thighs and marvel at the subtle slick still dripping down out of her, smearing onto his stomach.

joel’s rewarded with a kiss, tongue mashing against his while he fights not to cum just from the excitement. “that’s my boy. well you’re in luck, ‘cause I also have a strap,” she reveals, climbing off of him to retrieve her bag of goodies. “come pick which size you want.”

joel is beaming and joel is skittish but mostly, joel feels alive.

prep wasn’t for the weak.

she made it crystal clear he needed to communicate when it felt like too much. she has him pinned to the bed, similar to before except the roles are reversed (literally). his dick aches while it’s trapped between his stomach and the sheets. he hugs onto the pillow his face is buried in for dear life. still gets shy at times but still refuses to hold back, ass out on full display. only for her.

the cherry lube she had stocked is freezing to the touch at first. and a slimy kind of wet. little to nothing like what comes out of her pussy when she gets nice and ready for him. her delicate finger takes time circling his entrance with a generous glob of it.

“go in,” he pleads, a desperate impatience hiding in his tone.

her other palm settles on his cheek to spread him open wider. rubbing the soft ring of muscle left and right with the added lubrication, he exhales harsh as she dips the tip of a finger inside. not before long, she’s down to the knuckle.

“tell me what it feels like, baby.”

joel isn’t confident in his speech right now, but she’s making it so good for him, he needed to let her know.

the groan is muffled from the pillow, so he briefly moves his mouth away so she could hear him. “that’s it, yeah, y-you can go in s’more. if you want.”

the submissive side of him he doesn’t always let free has come out to play, and there’s nothing that’s stopping it now.

“good boy. you’re gorgeous like this, I hope you know.”

she knows it’s probably time for another finger when he began fucking back and forth for her. there’s no punishment this time, but in the future she already sees him being a bratty pain when he inevitably asks her to fuck him again.

her second finger goes in nice and easy, lube adding a great deal of slick between his plump cheeks. scissors them apart again and again, stretching him open to accommodate the size dildo he chose. first time getting fucked and he’s already a size queen, picking a healthy six inch that wasn’t too light in girth, either. it also glows in the dark, and doesn’t have balls attached, because joel wondered why even make ones with them anyway. they’re fucking useless. she could’ve given him a lengthy explanation on what the hyper realism did for some people, the added element to fantasy, but she could save it for another day.

joel gets progressively moodier and noisier by the third finger in, pushing back with passion as he mewled into his pillow.

“god, baby I want it, I’m ready. please!”

with a swell of pride now hung in her chest that she can resort him to a mess just as good as he can, she gives in to his demands.

“just relax for me, that’s it,” she cooed. when the fingers slip out all together she may as well crushed his dreams, but she had more important matters to attend to. while slicking up the toy and attaching the harness to a good spot on her hips, she admired the view of a needy joel, lost in his desperation to be filled. it was an honor to be able to witness this vulnerable side of him, a side he wouldn’t dare show unless he was one hundred percent on board and comfortable.

with the gush of lube nearly dripping down the toy, it’s assumed that there’s more than enough, and it’s time to shut him up and give as good as he has to her.

the teasing alone has his mouth falling open enough to catch a fly. he holds his breath when he feels the squishy tip rub his hole up and down, side to side.

“shit,” he gasps, eyes squeezing shut at the first little push. one of the arms that had been hastily wrapped around the pillow rapidly goes right behind him, holding onto her.

“how are you, baby? this okay?”

“mmmhm,” he swallows, attempting to relax with the adjustment. it’s foreign to have something thicker than his own fingers, and the pushing motion coming from her deadly hips. the tip of her silicone dick is now a healthy ways in, disappearing inside him. she keeps a steady hold on his arm as his vice, while the other goes up to play with his hair soothingly. joel was gonna get the princess treatment.

as it gets easier to slide in and out at three inches, she grabs the base like it’s another part of her body and wiggles up and down. the reaction from below her is instantaneous, so perfect and so responsive while he moaned like a whore and arched his back like one too.

“fuuuuck,” joel curses, now heading straight into dangerous territory. his own hips grow a mission of their own, fucking himself back onto her and grinding deep into the mattress. if the sheets weren’t already spoiled several rounds ago, they’d surely be now. seeing as how comfortable he’d gotten, she takes it upon herself to start giving him more.

with one swift motion, her right hand goes to his ass to keep him spread. the pace turned brutal once the slick sounds of lube fill the air, and joel is never going to be the same again. it’s what he’d imagined he’d been missing out on times ten.

“fuck me, fuck me just like that, o-oh god I knew you had it in you,” he starts to ramble, now fucking his ass back without a drop of shame. she’s grinning ear to ear, allowing herself to go faster and deeper. joel’s seeing cartoon stars as his dick leaks even more, balls probably more blue than he’d ever seen.

“you like this, miller? like getting fucked into the mattress, don’t you baby? yeah, I can hear how bad you needed it,” she praises, now slamming in each and every thrust.

“I need it, s’all I needed baby. takin’ care a’me so fucking good,” he grunts out, now biting the pillow and meeting her hips each time. “gonna make me cum, can I? jesus, please—“

she’s just as lost in the moment. with a nod of her head, she forgets he’s waiting for her permission and can’t see. grabbing a chunk of his hair with enough power to lift his face up, she forces him to look at her. those brown eyes can barely stay open, and she’s sure he’s close to drooling

“touch yourself and cum, baby, it’s okay now.”

with her command he’s up on his knees in an instant. careful not to let her slip out, he fists himself with rigorousness. it’s less than thirty seconds and not many pumps later that he’s spilling thick all over his hands and sheets. groaning her name deep and long. his head is thrown back, still arching as she reached over to squeeze the last drop out of him.

it’s still vibrating through him after she pulls out, careful to keep it easy and slow. when his eyes still feel heavy afterwards, they both see that him passing out at any second is a possibility. his face hits the bed so abruptly it’s comical, she keeps her hands on him to give the aftercare he always makes sure to give her. whispers of how good he did, how perfect he is for her. she thinks he’s done for but his arm snatches her right back towards him as soon as she tries getting up.

“baby, I’m coming back with some water after I wash my hands, okay?”

it’s a simple but effective “hurry” that makes her kiss his forehead and stroke the back of his neck. “I will, promise.”

once she’s back, he downs at least half the glass and is back down.

“we’ll be doing that again,” he slurs.

his breathing grows deep, cheek smooshed up against her arm. she smiles, kisses his temple then assures him that yeah this’ll be happening again.

masterlist

#joel miller smut #joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller tlou #the last of us #the last of us smut #the last of us hbo #joel tlou #joel miller x y/n #joel miller/reader #joel miller/you #pedro pascal #ask #anon #tlou x reader #smut

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coldgoldlazarus · 8 months

Text

That plane post reminded me of a funny thought I had earlier. Raven Beak has a powersuit and arm cannon a lot like Samus's, and even shares a few abilities, but also utilizes a bunch that she has never historically had.

We also know from the manga that the powersuit she has for most of Zero Mission is a newer model custom-designed by the Chozo and Mother Brain. (before the latter's betrayal, anyway.) This one was unable to recognize and fully make use of certain upgrades, but presumably with the trade-off being a slimmer build (lacking the giant 'clunky' (iconic) shoulders and keeping a flatter chestplate, even with the Varia suit equipped) and access to newer upgrade designs that older suits might in turn have trouble interfacing with, such as Raven Beak's fancier abilities. Even the Chozo were not immune to the onward march of backwards compatibility limitations, it seems.

But then she passes the mural test and gets the fully-powered suit, an older design able to use the extra ancient upgrades the prior one could not, and despite design shifts across most of the games, I think it's safe to assume that that's the same base suit she's operating with from there onward. We know it has a certain level of regenerative capability, thus why it still looks pretty untouched after all the punishment it takes, but even then it still gets halfway-disassembled in Fusion, stripping away all the outer armor completely, and taking however long between then and Dread to recover a bit of its original form, while still being distinctly less armored than it used to be, a lot of the same organic bits from Fusion still exposed to open air.

So with all this in mind, there's a certain hilarity in the end of Dread. Raven Beak's sitting here in his hyperadvanced, up-to-date and top-of-the-line powersuit, the equivalent of an F-22 Raptor, thinking he's hot shit. And then Samus rocks up in her old suit, the equivalent of not just a dinky WWII prop plane, but a dinky WWII prop plane that's missing half the fuselage like it was left unattended too long in Detroit, and flies absolute circles around him. Sure, he nearly saves it towards the end of the fight until RAGE, but the fact that it is as much of a proper fight as it is becomes kinda funny (and also very badass on her part) from this perspective.

#not a reblog #metroid #samus aran #raven beak #featuring a very tortured plane metaphor

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wri0thesley · 2 years

Text

right before your eyes - ayato x reader x thoma (3k)

you are willing to pay any price for your lord’s . . . unusual tastes. thoma’s price, though, feels a little steeper.

cw: not sfw, minors dni. power imbalance (reader and thoma both work for ayato). sub reader and sub thoma, condescending mean dom ayato. thoma is getting cucked hard. fingering, masturbation, bondage, a little dirty talk, grinding against one’s shoe. coming in underwear (thoma). reader is referred to as ‘darling’, ‘songbird’, ‘birdie’, thoma is called ‘good boy’. reader is afab but no pronouns or gendered terms are used.

Thoma strains against his bonds, a soft noise escaping from his parted lips, his eyes going dark and wide and hungry - as Ayato steps away and leaves his handiwork fully visible. Your Master smiles at you both and takes an elegant seat on the bed beside you, his fingers curling over your leg and pulling it further onto his lap, hooking it over his own thigh, to ensure that Thoma has only the best view possible.

Thoma’s view, coincidentally, currently consists of your body, utterly bare. Your legs spread wide to reveal the slick space between them; wet, glistening, and entirely untouched by anyone. So far.

“My, Thoma,” Ayato almost purrs, his eyes narrowing as they flitter from you to his loyal retainer, lips curving into that wicked smile which always spells trouble. “You’re practically salivating.”

Ayato’s hand brushes over his own crotch; his cock is tenting the fabric already, the fine material pulled taut as he hums low in the back of his throat and lets his eyes go half-lidded. Thoma’s teeth dig into his bottom lip as he watches.

Ayato’s other hand comes to land on the soft skin of your thigh; gloved fingers brushing over where you’re already sweat slicked and warm, torturously close to your dripping centre but not yet wishing to dirty the silken fabric.

“Darling,” Ayato says to you. The pet name drips with affection, but it’s the affection that one gives to a loyal dog and not to their lover - nevertheless, your body responds yet again. Your heart thumps against your chest. Your breath grows short. The world seems to knit itself hot and tight around your head, leaving you in a fuzzy, confused headspace. “Touch yourself for us.”

Thoma lets out another whine. His green eyes are hungry and desperate; heat seems to coalesce all around him as if he’s in a swirl of his own hot haze, almost visible. That gaze does not move from where you and Ayato sit for a moment, and you hear the tell-tale sound of him straining against the rope that keeps his hands bound behind the back of the chair.

“Thoma,” Ayato warns, but it is fond despite the warning. “Come now. Our sweet little darling’s going to put on a show for us, aren’t you, pretty bird? Have a little patience.”

It is perhaps remiss of Ayato to refer to you as ‘theirs’; inferring on some level that Ayato is willing to share you. Ayato is only willing to share in so much as letting Thoma watch; letting him occasionally brush fingers over bare skin or fasten mouth to your thighs or sometimes use nothing but his tongue to trace the veins of Ayato’s cock. Thoma never gets to come.

Thoma gets to watch. Gets to enjoy. Gets to have himself pushed to the desperate needy entreating of your shared Master to please, please, if neither of you are going to touch him please at least let him touch himself--

The last time Ayato had deigned to let Thoma use his mouth on you, the fair-haired, gentle-souled retainer had lapped and sucked and licked at you like a man starved, hips grinding helplessly into the sheets of his own bed until he’d made a soft noise of surprise and Ayato’s musical voice had cut through your fog of pleasure to exclaim in delight;

“Thoma! How shameful. Did you just make a mess of yourself?”

There will be no such repeat of that today; instead, Thoma has been tied to a chair with wrists behind him. He’s been stripped of his jacket and his trousers; the width of his chest and the corded muscle in his biceps from handling loads of washing and heavy buckets straining as he tries to be a good boy for the young Master. The underwear that he wears pulled tense; his cock leaking precome through the fabric. There is nothing so soft as Thoma’s own immaculately laundered sheets for him to make a mess of right now - just the air above him, shimmering with heat, as Thoma struggles and flushes and sweats and gasps.

“Darling?”

You realise that you have paused. So distracted by Thoma; the big green eyes and the swollen lips and the puffs of breath that escape him, the way his fair hair falls over his face in sweat-soaked strands. Ayato pinches your thigh with the barest hint of impatience.

“S-sorry, My Lord,” you say, and Ayato rewards you with a smile - angles his head to yours to brush his lips over the crown of your head.

“Quite alright, little songbird,” he says. “Now . . . let us hear that pretty song of yours, won’t you?”

You bite your lip as you manoeuvre your fingers between your legs - let your fingertips skim the outer lips of your sex, as you squirm at the sensation. Thoma’s green eyes are transfixed on the space there; the sight of you spread wide open like a blossoming flower, as wet pools on the sheet beneath you.

“Aren’t they pretty?” Ayato hums, gloved fingers brushing your thigh higher and higher. One arm goes around your waist to drag you closer to him, to curve up higher and squeeze the weight of your breast. A sigh of pleasure dies in your throat. “Thoma. Tell them.”

“You’re beautiful,” Thoma rasps out, his gaze heart-wrenchingly wanting.

“Mm,” Ayato chuckles. The hand slipping up your thigh comes to hold onto your own instead; as he guides your fingertips to circle your fluttering hole. “I think you want something inside of you.”

“Yes, My Lord,” you agree, looking at him through pleasure and heat clouded eyes. He’s terribly handsome when he’s concentrating; the elegant lines of his face, his cheekbones, his mouth always turned up at only the very corners. “I-- may I?”

“You may,” Ayato tells you, and he even urges you to press two inside of you; to curl them just so, so that your fingertips brush against the spongy spot inside of you and your muscles twitch in pleasure. A gasp catches in your throat. “Ah. Let’s not forget about the rest of you, hm?”

He pulls his hand away from yours now that he’s assisted you in slipping fingers inside of you, but the silken fingertip brushes your clit as he goes, sending a frisson of electricity right down your spine.

“Use your other hand,” he tells you - so you do. There’s a mountain of pillows behind you, so you do not quite fall, but you have to readjust your position a little - all it serves to do, though, is give Thoma a better view of the two fingers stuffed into your cunt and how your body has stretched to allow them.

You brush them over your clit, not yet giving it full attention - Ayato hums in pleasure once more, as if this is merely a garden party and he is being entertained by some four-piece band or other. Thoma’s presence fades in and out of your consciousness as you increase your speed and pressure and the world narrows to only the heat and pleasure that your fingers are providing; the part of your body where electricity sparkles and flares and makes the complicated knots inside of you unravel.

For a time, that’s all there is - but Thoma’s breath becomes hard to ignore.

He’s panting, desperate and wanting. He hasn’t been so much as touched, and yet he’s ruffled like someone who has been despoiled; hair out of place and lip bitten-swollen and cheeks all ruddy and pink.

You’re close. It’s not fair.

Ayato sighs.

“Don’t come,” Ayato warns you, as he stretches out one leg and hooks the tip of his shoe beneath Thoma’s chair, urging the retainer to use his unrestrained legs to shimmy it forward. “I’ll be very unhappy with you if you do.”

You make yourself slow down on the hand playing with your clit, despite the fact that your body is screaming for you to go faster and harder and let yourself tip over the delicious precipice of your orgasm. Ayato’s needs and wants and desires come first. Ayato gives you a warm smile before he turns his attention back to Thoma - who has indeed taken the hint and is much closer to Ayato than before.

This close, it’s clear to you how much of a mess this whole ordeal has left the housekeeper.

“Good boy,” Ayato praises, and Thoma visibly shudders. You feel yourself clench at the expression on Thoma’s handsome face, around the two fingers still inside of you - and Ayato laughs again.

“My poor little predictable staff members,” he says, leaning down to capture you in a kiss that is more a bite of your lower lip than anything else. You are too messy and far gone to do anything other than slackly attempt to kiss him back, and strings of shimmering gossamer drool stretch than break as he pulls away. “You both simply love being told you’re doing a good job.”

“A-anything for you, My Lord,” Thoma says, breathlessly - and Ayato smiles at him, delighted. You watch as one of Ayato’s expensive shoes edges up Thoma’s ankle - brushes his calf, to the inseam of his thigh, and then--

Thoma’s eyelashes flutter as Ayato presses the sole of his shoe against where his cock is straining in his underclothes. He makes a wet gurgle of pleasure that is nearly a sob.

He’s gone so, so long without stimulation - watched Ayato help you touch yourself, heard Ayato and you discuss how he would treat you if he were given permission . . . that even Ayato’s shoe is almost more pressure than he can handle.

“Shh,” Ayato says, with delight in his eyes. “Ah. You wanted to be touched, didn’t you?”

“Y-yes,” Thoma says, and his hips blindly grind towards Ayato’s shoe despite the inherent humiliation of it all. “B-but--”

“Carry on touching yourself,” Ayato says to you. “Thoma. Watch them.”

The bite in Ayato’s voice is clear to hear - but so is the arousal that saturates every word, making them hang heavy in the air. Ayato is no longer rubbing at himself, but from the corner of your eye you can tell he’s just as hard as Thoma. He’s just . . . better at controlling himself.

Your thumb brushes your clit again and it almost pushes you over the edge. You breathe through the desire to come - Ayato has not said you may, and you know better than to do it without permission. The slick noises of your fingers sliding in and out of you are obscene, but no more obscene than Thoma’s low moans and pants as Ayato carries on exactly what he’s doing.

“Tell him how much you wish it were his cock,” Ayato says, as his shoe rhythmically rubs against the bulge in Thoma’s underwear. Before you can speak, though, Thoma breaks in - too desperate to carry on being polite and well-mannered.

“M-my Lord,” Thoma says, voice broken, tears beading in his eyes. “Please-- if you carry on-- I don’t know if I can--”

“You’re getting off on it.” Ayato says with amused derision seeping from every syllable. “Oh, Thoma. You’re really a pervert, aren’t you? All of this time looking at me and our little songbird, imagining them . . . How many times have you jerked off thinking about us sucking your cock, hm?”

“My Lord--”

“Th-Thoma,” your voice makes him start, reedy and needy as it is; a trembling, snappable string. “I wish . . . I wish it were y-you touching me. Your fingers.” Thoma’s fingers are warm where Ayato’s are so often cool; calloused, where Ayato’s are immaculately maintained. Your cheeks heat. “Your . . . cock inside of me--”

(You have seen Thoma’s cock, though you have not taken it the same way you have taken Ayato’s. Ayato’s is longer; slender, pretty and pale, with a slight upward curve that makes you cry out into the ceiling - but Thoma’s is thicker. He flushes more deeply, leaks more slick precome over the girth of his shaft. You desperately want to know what it would feel like if Thoma were permitted to sheath it inside of you).

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” Ayato says, all saccharine sweet, but you can sense the way that his leg tenses; his foot grinding more sure and certain against Thoma’s cock. Thoma whimpers. “Wouldn’t you?”

“Y-yes,” Thoma admits. “Archons, yes--”

“I’ll make sure you get a good view when I fuck them,” Ayato says, like he’s bestowing some grand honour upon Thoma. “Ah. . . perhaps I’ll make them cry out your name instead. Would you like that?”

Whimpers and groans and needy noises. Thoma is losing control of himself, that much is clear - you can hear a sizzling that you think might be his Vision flaring to life, threatening to singe at the ropes.

You’re close yourself. Your lips feel swollen from biting, your fingers all covered in your own slick as they slip and slide inside of you. You grind your thumb against the nub of your clit, feeling yourself hovering on the precipice.

And Ayato’s voice cuts through the almost-peak, soft and soothing and lilting as ever.

“Let me help, darling.”

A gloved hand over your own - a finger slipping inside of you, silken glove going sticky wet with your slick as it comes to rest between the two fingers that are still buried within your walls and you squirm in heated need. It’s almost too much; the stretch is unusual, almost painful - but his thumb pushes your own away and he uses his own hand to grind on your clit at the same time as he works his foot over Thoma’s crotch.

You come first.

It’s hardly a surprise; there have been fingers inside of you and on you for what seems like hours now, your body on full display, Ayato’s honey-soft words and Thoma’s hungry glances and desperate panting all serving to make you needier than anyone in the room - but still Ayato coos at you as you soak slick all over his fingers.

“Oh, songbird,” he’s saying, as you vocalise soft moans and whimpers into the frenzied air. “I said I would help you, not that you could come yet--”

Whatever he was going to say, though, is broken off by Thoma’s whining.

The pressure of Ayato’s shoe and the lack of sensation has finally gotten to him, too; his hips helplessly rutting up into the sole of Ayato’s expensive footwear, his thighs trembling, beads of sweat rolling down his face as he pants and whimpers. A wet patch spreads over his underwear as feral delight takes over Ayato’s gaze and he loses interest in you for a moment.

“Thoma,” Ayato says. “Oh, Thoma . . . how filthy of you. Look what a mess you’ve made of yourself -- ahh, is that some on my shoe, too? Soaking through?” Thoma is trembling as Ayato eases his pressure only a touch; still almost petting at Thoma’s poor overstimulated cock through the fabric of his underwear as the retainer whimpers and shifts and huffs. “Oh, dear. I ought to make you lick it off.”

“My Lord--” Thoma whimpers. “A-apologies . . . I didn’t mean--”

“Neither of you can listen to instructions,” Ayato sighs, shaking his head, though a smirk is playing around his lips. “Oh dearie me.”

“I-I’m sorry, My Lord,” you respond to his sigh of faux frustration. “I-- please let me make it up to you . . .”

“Darling thing,” Ayato pulls his fingers out of you - smiles at you with endearment written clear on his face. “Of course you will.”

He turns to Thoma; leans forward, elbows on knees, and places the gloved hand that was formerly buried inside of you against Thoma’s lips.

“Be a good boy and make it up to me,” Ayato says. “Before I fuck our pretty songbird, take these off with your teeth, and perhaps when I’m done with them . . . we’ll see about letting you come again.”

It is not a promise; with Ayato, it very rarely is. You doubt that it will come to more fruition than Ayato perhaps letting Thoma spill his second load over your face or your chest; his come splattering on your bare skin. But Thoma’s eyes are still hazy as he wraps his mouth around Ayato’s fingers, as he sucks on the wet fabric a few times and drinks in the lingering taste of your sex before he makes any attempt to take them off with his teeth as Ayato asked.

Because the truth is stark, clear and real.

Both of you would do anything - absolutely anything - for your young Master. And if Thoma’s humiliation and your obedience is the price to pay for his pleasure, it is a price that you are both willing to see through.

Ayato smiles at Thoma. Rubs his thumb across the other man’s cheek - and stands, bestowing a soft kiss upon Thoma’s heated brow.

“Good boy,” Ayato says. “Let me give you a reward. Let me see. Ah, I know.” His smile doesn’t dissipate. “I’ll let you choose; which position would you like to see me fuck our dear little birdie in?”

#writing #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact smut #ayato x reader #ayato smut #thoma x reader #thoma smut #ayato x reader x thoma #poly ship tag #genshin impact posting #cucking for ts #power imbalance

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halloworhorecrux · 28 days

Text

Warning: slight NSFW and dubious consent at the end.

Where is the waking up married Drarry? Right here my friend

It's been one week of Draco being free of Azkaban. Ron and Neville are on Harry duty.

(You are telling me that Hermione does not have a schedule to make sure Harry does not bother *stalk*Draco Malfoy. Take your filthy lies out here. )

She knew he was flying and watching over that scrawny ferret since his trial.

Harry smells of the North Sea, and his hair has been even more of a disaster. The daily prophet calls him a Casanova because anytime he is seen, he looks disheveled, just shagged barely left the bed disheveled.

So its been a week, and they have been able to keep Harry away from Malfoy. Ron boasted to Hermione he is doing a brilliant job as they enter a bar where Harry is beelining to the white blonde head in the center of the dance floor. Dean Thomas is quick enough to rugby tackle him before he makes contact. Well fuck.

Pansy Parkinson saw the Saviour looking at her friend and did her best to stear him away to go somewhere else, literally anywhere else. Dear, sweet Draco is wasted and horribly clingy, so he tells her to "carry me Pans."

Like what the fuck, he is 6ft tall and yea maybe he weighs like a sack of bones that doesn't mean Pansy can carry him. Ever loyal Goyle decides he will take him . The problem is Goyle looks different ( he doesn't Harry just doesn't care) and so Harry sees a man trying to manhandled Malfoy, and just bulldozes everyone and disapparates with him to Las Vegas.

Draco vomits throughly on Harry's shoes.

The humiliation is enough that Draco decides he will just get Harry wasted too. So they continue their night blasted until they decide to enter a chapel and get married.

Potter I swear to hex and hold you, in sixth year bathrooms and ballroom manors, with a muggle pence and all the galleons in a malfoy vault. Till we fucking die together, i vow to never leave you alone, Potter"

Malfoy I swear to hex and hold you, in forbidden forests and any sea your stranded in, you use to find me every train ride but now it's my turn to find wherever you want to be. ill be there with you. I vow to watch you until we greet death, and even then, I won't let you go"

"Wonderful vows gentleman, with power vested in my by the state of Nevada I now pronounce you husband and husband"

"Merlin, where am I?"

"We are in the America's, and you should probably wake up. We are in loads of trouble, Potter. " Harry speaks his last name with relish and just enough posh that Draco gives himself whiplash, turning towards him

"Potter"

"Ohcome now, it's your name too, may want to use my first name sweeatheart"

"Sweetheart?" Draco's face is gobsmacked and it's glorious.

"Yes, baby?"

"Merlin"

"No its Harry, you screamed it enough last night"

The flush that begins at his chest travels all the way to the tips of Draco's ears.

"I-- I thought that was a dream"

"Dream about marrying me often, Potter?" Harry ask.

" sometimes, sometimes it's of our honeymoon, where you spend hours licking-"

"Yea, well as much I want you to finish that, the MACUSA is outside our door and waiting to charge us for illegally entering the country and some other minor charges"

Dracos eye grow huge, with fear mixed in because he was only recently released from Azkaban.

" No, No, don't fret love. I won't ever allow you to return there or any prison ever again. Do you hear me? I'll kill them before anyone puts a hand on you."

A nod " I trust you, Harry"

His name on Draco's lips is enough for Harry to say fuck it and begin to strip his cloak from his shoulders. Thank merlin Draco is still naked and filled with his cum leaking out.

A better version of this is if this happens before Draco's trial and he doesn't go to Azkaban at all. Whatever floats your boat

#harry x draco #harco #drarry #microfiction #just get married already

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raised-u-fr0m-perdition · 2 months

Text

we could be more | dean winchester | 4

Summary: Ivonne Rainer was practically a trained killing machine. Stripped to the bone then built back up by her father in order to become one of the best, like he was. She was forced into hunting when she was nineteen, having developed powers that couldn’t be explained. That is, until she was paid a visit by Azazel’s lackey. Her powers were gone, she needed help, and that’s when she found her father’s journal. Pointing to Sam and Dean Winchester.

SERIES MASTERLIST

CHILDREN SHOULDN’T PLAY WITH DEAD THINGS

ᴺᴼᵂ ᴾᴸᴬᵞᴵᴺᴳ : DRIVER’S LICENSE - OLIVIA RODRIGO

“Come on, Sam, I'm begging you. This is stupid.” Dean groaned as he drove the car.

”Why?” Sam asked.

”Going to visit Mom's grave? She doesn't even have a grave- there-there was no body left after the fire.”

“She has a headstone.”

“Yeah, put up by her uncle, a man we've never even met. So you wanna, go pay your respects to a slab of granite put up by a stranger? Come on.”

“It’s not about that.”

”Enlighten me then, Sam.”

“It's not about a body, or, or, a casket. It's about her memory, okay?”

“Mhmm.”

”And after Dad it ju-just feels like the right thing to do.”

“It's irrational, is what it is.”

”Look, man. No one asked you to come.”

”Why don't we swing by the roadhouse instead? I mean, we haven't heard anything on the demon lately. We should be hunting that thing down.”

”That's a good idea, you should. Just drop me off, I'll hitch a ride, and I'll meet you there tomorrow.”

”How about we ask what Beanie wants to do?” Dean turned slightly. “Whatcha wanna do?”

”Go to the graveyard.” I replied. “Believe it or not, my family’s tombstone is nearby. The night my family died was spent in Lawrence.”

“Well, then, you can pay your respects there.” Sam agreed.

We reached the graveyard, and I instantly started searching for our family plot. As soon as I found it, I sat at my dad’s grave, staring at the inscription of his name.

“Hey, dad.” I whispered. “It’s been 7 years since I last saw you, and if I’m being honest, it’s eating me alive cause I need you with me. I found your book and I saw your notes on Sam and Dean, so I found them and they’re protecting me from the dreamwalker cause the devil came after me, but only took away my powers. It feels like I’ve let you down.” My voice started breaking uncontrollably. “You told me to take care of my family, but there’s no one left to protect, so what am I here for?” I felt a tear drop onto my Panic!At the Disco t-shirt. “Dean and Sam have their own problems to deal with, b-but they insist that I don’t intrude. It’s… c-confusing.” I paused. “And there’s another thing. Everyone expects me t-to live up to either yours or mom’s name, but it’s so hard to do. I doubt I can-”

”Beanie!” I heard, so I left some flowers at the grave and went over to Dean.

“What?”

“Does this mean anything to you?” He pointed to the ground. There was a ring of dead grass surrounding a tombstone, along with a wreath of dead flowers. I wiped a tear from my eye, then nodded.

“It’s an odd ring of dead grass around a grave, it’s usually a sign of a troubled spirit or unholy ground.”

“You hear that, Sam?”

“Maybe the groundskeeper went a little agro with the pesticide.” Sam suggested, so I bent down and touched the soil, bringing it up to my face.

“Nope.” I shook my head. “If pesticide was still here, soil wouldn’t be dry. Excesses of it make the soil wet for a few hours after.”

“Okay, so what are you thinking?”

“Unholy ground.”

“Un-“ Sam stopped, looking dumbfounded.

“What? If something evil happened there, it could easily poison the ground.” Dean explained. “Remember the-the farm outside of Cedar Rapids?”

“Yeah, b-“

”Could be the sign of a demonic presence. Or the-the Angela girl's spirit, if it's powerful enough.” Dean grimaced at Sam’s nod. “Well, don’t get too excited, you might pull something.”

“It's just... stumbling onto a hunt? Here, of all places?”

“So?”

“So… are you sure this is about a hunt and not anything else?”

“What else would it be about?”

“Boys.” I sighed, going and getting a newspaper from a nearby stand.

“You believe what you want, Sam, but -- I let you drag my butt out here, the least we could do is check this out.”

“Yeah. Fine.” Sam grumbled.

“Her dad works as a professor at the university here.” I informed, looking up.

“Dr. Mason?” Dean knocked on the door in the university, and Dr Mason opened it.

“Yes?” He replied.

“I'm Sam. This is Dean, and this is Ivy.” Sam introduced. “We were friends of Angela's. We... we wanted to offer our condolences.”

“Please, come in.” We entered, and while Dean went to the shelves, Sam and I sat down.

“She was beautiful.” Sam smiled, looking at a photo.

“She was.” Dr Mason nodded sadly. I got up, going to the door.

“I’m going to get some fresh air.” I excused, then shut the door behind me. I looked around at the bustling students, and I gulped, remembering my brief time at college before I dropped out.

“You look lost.” I turned to see a dude who seemed to be six foot tall, making me feel small since I was 5’ 8”. He had dark brown hair, brown eyes and a smile that could probably blind me. He was dressed smartly, and glasses framed his eyes, giving him a geeky look. “Are you a student?”

“God, no.” I chuckled. “I’m here visiting Dr Mason with my brothers. We were friends with Angela.” I held out my hand. “I’m Lily Carter.”

“Nate, but the students call me Mr Coleman.” He shook my hand. “I’m sorry about Angela.”

“So am I.” I smiled. “It’s hard, but I’m dealing.”

“Your brothers are helping, huh?”

“More than I think they are.” I nodded. “They’re going through things too, so they need my help as well.”

“Sounds like a good thing.” He grinned, then looked like he was hesitant for something. “C-Can I get your number?”

“Oh, sure.” I pulled out my phone and so did he, and I read out my number. When we were done, his cheeks were red, a goofy smile on his face.

“Do you think we can-“

“Beanie?” Dean and Sam came out from the office, and found me. “C’mon, let’s go.”

“I’ll see you around, yeah?” I asked.

“Course I will.” He grinned. “It was great meeting you, Lily Carter.”

“And you, Nate Coleman.” I replied, then walked off with the boys.

“I never knew ‘a breath of fresh air’ meant ‘find a new man’.” Dean teased.

“Dean, it wasn’t like that-“

“Don’t think that we didn’t see you staring at that dude like he was a cup of coffee.” Sam chuckled. “Just couldn’t resist him.”

“I got his number, but-“

“Don’t think we’ve forgotten about Will.” Dean snorted.

“Yeah, Will.” Sam laughed. “Speaking of Will, have you two been in contact since we left?”

“Nope.” I replied. “Just another relationship on the go.”

“We’ve had our fair share.” They both nudged me.

“Speaking of which, where are we staying for tonight?” Dean asked.

“I’ve got a safe house here.” I offered.

“How many safe houses do you have?”

I held up a set of keys.

“Damn.”

The moment we had gotten into the Impala, Dean had been blabbing on about how we ‘found something’. Sam was forever sceptical, and I was trying to find a quiet moment so I could text Nate.

“I'm telling you, there's something going on here. We just haven't found it yet.” Dean repeated as we closed the house door.

“Dean, so far you've got a patch of dead grass and nothing.” Sam groaned.

“Well, something turned that grave into unholy ground.”

”There's no reason for it to be unholy ground. Angela Mason was a nice girl who died in a car crash. That's not exactly vengeful spirit material. You heard her father.”

“Yeah, well, maybe Daddy doesn't know everything there is to know about his little angel, huh?”

“You know what? We never should have bothered that poor man. We shouldn't even be here anymore.”

“So what, Sam? What, we just bail? Without even figuring out what's going on?”

“I think I know what's going on here. It's the only reason I went along with you this far.”

“What are you talking about?”

“This is about Mom’s grave.”

“Oh, he just went there.” I whispered, breathing out.

Dean scoffed. “That’s got nothing to do with it.”

“You wouldn't step within a hundred yards of it. Look. Maybe you're imagining a hunt where there isn't one so you don't have to think about Mom. Or Dad.” Sam persisted.

“I’m not taking this-“ They were interrupted by my keys jingling, and I put my leather jacket on, ignoring their faces as I fixed my crop top.

“Where are you going?” Sam asked.

“Thanks for realising that I’m still here.” I smiled falsely. “Now, if you excuse me, I’m heading to the bar, alone, to get a drink. You two have a copy of the keys if you want to do something similar.” I went out of the door, walking to the bar.

I was busy drinking a whiskey at the bar, merely cause I was in the mood for something fancier than beer.

“You alright, sweetheart?” The bartender asked, prepping a drink.

“Yeah, I’m just getting away from my brothers. They might be wrestling at this point.” I replied with a scoff.

“I used to do that with my brothers. My mom said it should be professional.” He chuckled. “Anyway, I have something for you.” He gave me a Cosmopolitan, and I frowned.

“I didn’t ask for this.”

“But the gentleman across the bar did. Paid for it an’ all.” He pointed to…

“Nate.” I half exhaled, half laughed as he walked up to me, sitting down on the bar stool beside me.

“Lily.” Nate grinned. “I never thought I’d see you again, not after your… brothers… whisked you away.”

“Why the emphasis?” I asked, sipping the Cosmo.

“Because I never knew that Lily Carter could be the sister of Sam and Dean Winchester.”

I choked on my drink. “You know?”

“A lot of hunters know who those two are.” He nodded. “So your name isn’t really Lily Carter, is it?”

“Nope.” I chuckled. “Ivonne Rainer.”

“Michael Rainer’s daughter?”

“You bet.” I smirked, then took out his ID, which I’d nifted from his pocket. “And your name isn’t Nate Coleman, is it, Xavier?”

“You got me.” He grinned. “I’m actually Xavier Jackson.”

“I never thought I’d see a hunter work undercover as a school teacher.”

“I joined the day after Angela’s death.” Xavier explained. “Something was up, cause I’d seen her grave. I’ve never seen a more obvious mark of-“

“-unholy ground.” We finished together, then started laughing. I drank my Cosmo to stop laughing, but then he seemed hesitant to say something.

“What’s up?” I asked.

“The first time I saw you with Sam and Dean, I thought you and Dean were dating or you liked each other, and I was scared to text you-“

I started laughing again, wiping a tear of laughter from my eye. “No way, Dean and I are friends! He just calls me Beanie cause I wore one the first time we met.”

”Phew.” He pretended to wipe off sweat from his forehead, adjusting his glasses. “I-I thought I had some competition, to say the least.”

“There’s nothing in your way, trust me.” I grinned.

I woke up, squinting my eyes at the bright light of the sun and sighing. I giggled when an arm wrapped around my waist, somebody peppering kisses along my shoulder.

“Last night was amazing.” Xavier whispered in my ear, and I turned around to face him.

“Last night was a blur.” I joked. “Can you remind me what happened?”

“Are you-“

“I’m kidding!” I laughed, cupping his cheek and rubbing my thumb against it softly. “Yeah, last night was… I don’t have words.”

“Your phone is ringing, though.” He whispered, and I pulled the sheets over me as I reached over, seeing the caller ID.

Sam.

“Oh, damn.” I cursed, then picked it up. “Hey, Sam?”

‘Ivy, thank god. You didn’t come home last night, where are you?’

“You know Nate, right? I met him at the bar, but I was a bit drunk and he took me to his house since it was nearer and neither of us brought cars.”

‘You could’ve called either me or Dean.’

“And risk either of you ranting about how dumb the other person is? Hell no.”

‘True- Dean, you’ll get your chance to talk- hey!’

‘Text me the address, Beanie, I’ll be there in five.’

“Fine.” I cut the call, texted Dean the address, then grabbed my clothes and quickly slipped into them.

“Call me later, yeah?” Xavier asked while putting his shirt on. The moment it went on, I never could’ve guessed he was jacked.

“Of course I will.” I kissed his cheek then his lips, but he kept me there by holding my hips. I pulled back, grinning. “Dean’s gonna give you the dad talk if he finds us kissing, even if he’s not my dad.”

“Right.” He combed his hair while I reapplied my lip gloss, picking up my keys and putting on my jacket.

“By the way,” I breathed, “you have the hottest sleeper build ever.”

“Glad to know.” He smiled, kissing my hand just as the roar of the Impala came from the other side of the door. I opened the door, waving and getting into shotgun, turning to Dean.

“No call.” He lectured. “No text, no warning that you might not be back-“

“Chill, Dean.” I sighed.

“And even after that, there’s no sign of a hangover. In fact, you’re weirdly glowing…” He paused, his head whipping round. “You got laid.”

“I, uh…” He pulled my collar down then let out a loud laugh, returning my collar to where it was. “You did! And by geek guy as well!”

“His name is Xavier.”

“I thought it was Nate.”

“He’s undercover investigating Angela.”

”We’re on a hunt and you got yourself laid.”

“Don’t think I don’t know about Cassie.”

The comment made him pause. “No comment. Was he good?”

“WHAT?!”

”It’s a genuine question! Did he treat you right?”

“He was great.”

“Then I have no problem.” He tucked a strand of hair behind my ear. “You deserve to be happy, Beanie. My job is to protect you.”

We ended up at Angela’s roommate, Lindsey’s, apartment. Dean unlocked it, and we walked in, and he picked up a picture, but there was a reflection.

Of Lindsey.

“Who the hell are you?” She confronted before she shut the door, seemingly locking it.

“Wait, wait, wait, wait, hold on!” Dean called.

“I’m calling 911!”

“Hear me out!” I spoke up. “I’m here with Angela’s cousin. Alan? Alan Stanwick? We’re here to pick up Angela’s stuff because her dad sent us.”

She opened the door slightly. “He never told me you were coming.”

“We have the keys to your house, sweetheart.” I smiled, holding up the keys.

“Who are you?”

“Naomi Wickham.” I lied. “Alan is my… boyfriend.”

She came back out, coming face to face with us. She sat down on the sofa, and started crying, so we sat down and handed her a Kleenex tissue.

“So. I'm sure you got a, a view of Angela that none of the family got to see.” Dean- I mean Alan- said. “Tell me, what, what was she like? I mean, what was she really like?”

”She was great.” She sobbed. “She was so, so…”

“Great?”

“Yeah.” She nodded before breaking down again. In an attempt to play the kind girlfriend, I gave her a tissue.

“Here you go.” I soothed. “You two must have been really close, huh?”

”We were. But it's not just her, it's Matt.”

“Who?” Dean asked.

“Angela’s boyfriend.”

“Right.” I nodded. “What about him?”

“He killed himself last night. He cut his own throat. Who does that?” Lindsey wailed, taking another tissue.

“That’s terrible.”

“He was taking Angela's death pretty hard, and I guess... I mean, he'd been messed up about it for days.”

”Messed up how?” Dean asked.

“He kept on saying that he saw her everywhere.”

“Well, I’m sure that’s normal, with everything he was going through.”

“No, he said that he SAW her. As in, an acid trip or something.”

“Were Angela and Matt a happy couple? I mean, is there any reason that Angela would be angry with him?” Dean persisted.

“What? No, of course not, why do you ask?” She looked confused, so I had to step in.

“Just checking, Lindsey. Where did Matt live?”

We opened the door to my safe house, hearing something weird going on with the television. Sam threw down the remote, acting as if nothing was wrong.

“Hey.” He coughed.

“Hey.” Dean grimaced.

“Awkward.” I whistled. “Let’s not have me come home to that again, eh?”

”Where in the hell were you?” Sam asked, deflecting.

“Working my imaginary case.” Dean sniped.

“Yeah? And?”

“Well, you were right, I didn't find much. Yeah. Except Angela's boyfriend died last night. Slit his own throat. But, you know, that's normal. Uh, let's see, what else. Oh, he was seeing Angela everywhere before he died. But you know, I'm sure that's just me transferring my own feelings.”

“Okay, I get it. I'm sorry, maybe there is something going on here.”

“Maybe? Sam, I know how to do my job, despite what you might think.”

“Hey, maybe we should check out the overall situation.” I interrupted. “We went to Matt’s apartment and it’s the same thing as the cemetery. Dead plants, hell, even dead goldfish.”

“So, unholy ground?” Sam asked.

“Maybe. I'm still not getting that powerful angry spirit vibe from Angela.” Dean picked up a pink book, showing it to us. “I have been reading this, though.”

“You stole the girl's diary?”

“Yeah, and if anything, she’s a little too nice.” I remembered a book from Dr Mason’s room, so I pulled out every language book I had in my satchel.

”Are you kidding me? I have her bestest friend in the whole wide world.” Dean turned to me. “What’s going on, Beanie?”

“Did you see a book with strange symbols in Dr Mason’s room?” I asked, flipping the book.

“Yeah, I showed him it.”

“I’m gonna need at least a few samples.”

“I didn't realise the college employed grief counsellors.” We were at the house of a guy named Neil, who seemed to be close friends with Angela.

“Oh yeah. Yeah, you talk, we listen. Or maybe throw in a little therapeutic collage, whatever jump-starts the healing.” Dean nodded.

“Well, I think I’m ok, thanks.” Neil refused.

“You heard what happened to Matt Harrison, right?” Sam asked.

“Yeah, I did.”

“Well, we just wanted to make sure you were okay.” I smiled. “Grief can make people do crazy things.”

”Look, I'm sorry about what happened to him. I am. But if Matt killed himself it wasn't 'cause of grief.”

“No? Then why?”

“It was guilt. Angie's death was Matt's fault and he knew it.” He said it almost bitterly, piquing my interest.

”How, Neil?”

“Well, she really loved that guy. But the night of the accident she walked in on him with another girl.” Neil explained. “She was really torn up, that's why she crashed the car. Um, look, I gotta get ready for work, so ... thanks for the concern, but... seriously, I'll be okay.”

We left the house, a little more assured than last time.

“Well, that vengeful spirit theory's starting to make a little more sense.” Dean shrugged. “I mean, hell hath no fury...”

“So if Angela got her revenge on Matt, you think it's over?” Sam asked as we got into the car. I was in the driver’s this time to give Dean a break.

“Well, there's one way to be sure.”

“Yeah?”

“Burn the bones.”

“Are you high?” I scoffed. “By ‘burning the bones’ you mean burning a still rotting body. That could release an angrier spirit.”

“C’mon,” Dean chuckled, “since when are you afraid to get your hands dirty?”

We were digging Angela’s grave, the three of us panting as we tossed soil into a large pile. When we were done, Dean gestured to the coffin.

“Ladies first.” He joked to Sam, who winced and opened the coffin-

“What the hell?” I exclaimed. The coffin was empty.

“This can’t be possible.” Sam frowned.

“They buried the body four days ago.” Dean fumed.

“I don’t get it.”

I aimed my torch at the side of the coffin, seeing inscriptions. I got in, bending down so I could see the letters properly.

“Beanie? Got something?” Dean called. I pulled a pen and a flip notepad out of my inside pocket, balancing the notepad on my knee as I quickly wrote down the inscriptions, every small marking possible. “Beanie!”

“We need to get back to the safe house.” I clicked my tongue, holding out my torch to see the paper. “I’m not translating this thing in a graveyard.”

“Alright, what now?” Dean asked, sitting down at the table. I sipped a cup of coffee, taking out every language book in my satchel and laying them out on the table, opening them to the title page. Then I reached in, digging my hand around, shoulder deep.

“Ivy, say something.” Sam urged.

“Alright, then.” I cleared my throat, still searching. “Where is this thing? Oh, right. So, that is an Ancient Greek dialect, as you know. But it’s gonna take me days to find the right one, and we don’t have that kind of time, so I need a little help.” I closed my fingers around a long cylindrical vial full of clear liquid. “Is this the truth serum?” I pulled the cap off, tapping the side twice. It glowed blue, so I smiled. “This is it.” I dipped a finger in it and made an inscription on the paper, feeling proud that I could actually still somewhat retain something from my witch days. “It’s actually relieving that I can still use some parts of sorcery.” I poured a careful amount in my hand and flicked it, drops of water landing on the front pages, but they absorbed the liquid and were left dry.

“What are we waiting for?” Sam whispered.

“Wait for it.” I grinned, and then the pages of every book started moving, flipping back and forth, searching for the right dialect.

“This is cool.” Dean laughed, his hands out and his expression like a child. “We’re experiencing witchery firsthand, Sammy.”

“I can see that, Dean.” Sam quickly replied. Then some books started closing with a snap, all of them shutting until one in the top left corner opened on a page with the exact dialect on it. I picked it up, placing it down on the left of the sheet I’d copied the scripture down on.

“Vitam superiorem voco. Legiones inferorum voco. Magnam virtutem invoco, o diabole, ut hanc animam vivifices. Mihi, illis, vitae.” I recited.

”Hey, you might summon a body!” Dean warned, but I waved him off.

“I need to inscribe this on a coffin for it to work, so chill, you little squirrel.” I chuckled, then looked over them again. “Translation: I call it a higher life. I call the legions of hell. I invoke a great power, O devil, for you to revive this soul. For me, for them, and for life.” I whistled. “This is an incantation for a ritual typically used in necromancy. You can use it to chat to souls on the other side or revive fresh corpses. But you can’ just do a random person, it has to be someone close to you and it requires a blood sacrifice.”

“Blood sacrifice?” Sam repeated.

“You heard me. Person we’re looking for most likely has a rune in their arm. But best bet? Dr Mason. Man knows his Ancient Greek.” I drew air in through my teeth, stacking the books one by one and placing them in my satchel.

“I know we’ve never really touched the subject, but…” Sam pointed to my arm, the one with the rune on it, “how do you get by without your powers?”

“I’ve done a lot of hobbies, and one was hunting. I’ve been training since I was around six or seven, which was when Dad taught me how to draw pretty shapes with salt, what he called holy water and oil. Then when I was ten, he gave me books on different creatures and how to kill ‘em. Then when I was thirteen, he took me to a range in the middle of the woods where he taught me to shoot. By the time I was off to college, I was an expert marksman, a good fighter since he’d put me in martial arts, I knew almost everything there is to know about things and how to kill ‘em. I only got my powers at 19, so I could get by pretty well if I didn’t have ‘em.”

“Your dad taught you well.” Dean smirked.

“Yeah, by the time I was, what, fifteen, I could just do this.” I covered my eyes, aiming for a target board on the wall and firing, uncovering my eyes and seeing that it hit bullseye.

“I couldn’t do that at fifteen.” He grumbled. I checked the time, then cleared my throat.

“I’ve gotta go, boys.”

“Why?” Sam asked.

“I’ve got a date.” The two whistled, making me grimace. “You’re both idiots.”

“Well, c’mon, we need to get you ready!” Sam grinned, starting to fluff up my hair. Dean folded my jacket’s collar, clicking his tongue.

“You go and spend some time with Xavier, we’ll confront the old man.” Dean winked.

“If we need you, we’ll call you.”

“Thanks, guys.” I smiled. “Even if you two are both annoying.”

”You’re like our sister, Beanie.” Dean smirked, taking my necklace and hanging it down the front of my shirt, where the green stone was visible. “But if Xavier breaks your heart, I am taking my pistol and going for him myself.”

”I don’t know, maybe I can talk to Angela to get the deed done.”

I was waiting for Xavier outside a bar, when I felt someone’s presence.

“Who’s there?” I frowned, putting my hand on my gun.

“Don’t shoot.” Angela was beside me. “You’re Ivonne. Ivy.”

”Speaking.” I still kept my hand on my gun. “But why?”

”I know your brother. Carter.” She explained. “We met on the other side and asked me to find you. He wants to tell you who took over his mind the night he died.”

”Tell me.” I gritted my teeth. “Angela, so help me, tell me who did it.”

”It was-“

”Ivy?” Xavier was walking towards me, and the next thing I knew, Angela was gone. “Hey.”

”Hey.” I grinned, pecking him on the cheek. “It’s been such a long time.”

”I know, eight hours is way too long.”

After a while of talking, I got a phone call from Dean. I picked it up, sighing. “Really? Three hours?”

’It wasn’t Dr Mason.’ Dean replied. ‘But, uh, we need some help with the rest of this.’

“Do you need my help so you don’t verbally assault anyone else?”

‘Pretty much.’

“I’ll be there.” I cut the call, grimacing. “The boys need me.”

”That’s fine.” Xavier shrugged. “I don’t mind it, cause I know how it is. Go, solve the case.”

”Ok, Xavier.” I smiled, giving him a kiss. “Thanks.”

”Go get it, then thank me again.” He grinned, and I picked up my stuff, got a taxi and drove back to the safe house. I unlocked the door, hung up my jacket, and went into the kitchen.

“You needed me?”

”We think Neil is the one who brought back Angela.” Sam explained.

”Is there some voodoo that you can use to track the spell’s caster down?”

“There should be, yeah.” I nodded, reaching in my satchel and pulling out a spell book and a bundle of rosemary. I arranged the rosemary into a rune, writing Neil’s name onto a sheet of paper and taking Dean’s lighter, muttering an incantation before burning the paper, letting it fall onto the rosemary. All of it burnt to ashes, but then turned red and started forming a person. A person who looked like the spitting image of Neil himself. “There we go.”

“Neil resurrected Angela.” Sam breathed. “The things you’d do for love.”

“But these things are typically what you shouldn’t do.” I clicked my tongue. “Sam, anything in John’s journal?”

“No lore.” He shook his head.

“What, you can’t just smoke ‘em with a headshot?” Dean asked.

“Man, you watch way too many Romero flicks.”

“Well, they can’t be unkillable.” I pulled out a book and opened it. “Oh, god help me, this is in Babylonian even though it’s an Ancient Greek manner of killing the revived. Give me a second.” I peered at it for a second. “The most sure-fire way to kill these things is through a blood sacrifice. Theirs. In order to get the blood, they say you have to ‘nail the dead into their grave beds’.”

“We have to find dear Angie, then.” Dean resolved, storing his gun on his person.

”But Angela��s going to be hard to neutralise, so prepare silver bullets just in case.” I replaced the cartridge full of lead bullets in my gun with a cartridge of silver bullets.

“Got it.”

We unlocked the door to Neil’s house, my gun held up.

“Hello? Neil?! It's your grief counsellors- we've come to hug.” Dean called, and I gave him a look. “What?”

“Really?!” I whispered as he pulled out a gun.

“Silver bullets?” Sam asked.

“Enough to make her rattle like a change purse.” Dean smirked.

“Wilted plants.” I nodded. “And creepy basement door. Unless he keeps his private collections down there, I’d say this is a good place to keep a killer zombie.” Sam opened the door and both Dean and I sped to the landing, holding our guns out as we stepped down the stairs. However, it was empty.

“Sure looks like a zombie pen to me.”

“An empty one. You think she’s gone to get someone?”

Dean pulled back a vents revealing a hole. “Nah, I think she’s gone to rent beaches.”

“Look, smartass, she might kill someone. We gotta find her, Dean.”

“Well, Matt was killed because he cheated on Angela, right?” I asked, hands in my pockets.

“Yeah.” They both answered.

“So it takes two to tango. Plus, Angela’s roommate Lindsey seemed a little too attached to Matt’s death.” I deduced. “I think we need to pay another visit to Lindsey.”

We drove up to Lindsey’s house, running up to the front door. We opened it and I ran past the boys, aiming at Angela and firing three times. She writhed, screaming and facing us. I shot one more time, hitting Angela in the chest, and she cried out and ran out of the window.

“I’ve got you.” Sam whispered to Lindsey, holding her. Dean ran out of the window that Angela burst through, running back in a second later.

“Well, that dead chick can run.” Dean scoffed. “I think we should have a little chat with Neil.” We made sure Lindsey was safe before running to the car, getting in and driving off to Neil’s house.

”So the silver bullets, they did something, right?”

“Something, but not enough.”

“Time to try the nailing into their grave thing as a Plan B.” I grimaced. “I know where we can get a pole from, so I’ve made a call. This is probably where all the vampire lore comes from, now that I think of it.”

“How the hell are we going to get Angela back to the cemetery?” Dean asked.

“You tell me, Winchester.” We pulled up at Neil’s office, knocking sharply on the door. When there was no answer, I took a picking tool and opened it, all of us advancing into his room.

“What are you guys doing here?” Neil asked, standing up.

“You know, I've heard of people doing some pretty desperate things to get laid, but you -- you take the cake.” Dean scoffed.

“Ok- who are you guys?”

“You might want to ask Angela that question.”

“What?”

“We know what you did, Neil.” I persisted. “You brought back Angela. Kid, I’ve gone through a fair share of rituals myself and I know one when I see one.”

“You're crazy.” Neil stammered.

“Your girlfriend's past her expiration date and we're crazy?” Dean scoffed. “When someone's gone they should stay gone. You don't mess with that kind of stuff.”

”It’s black magic, Neil.” I sighed.

“Angela killed Matt. She tried to kill Lindsey.” Sam exclaimed urgently.

“I don't know what you're talking about.” Neil whispered.

Dean stomped over, taking Neil roughly by the collar. “Hey! No more messin’ around, Neil. His blood is on your hands. Now. All of us can make this right, but you've gotta tell us where she is. Tell us!”

“She’s at my house!” He burst out, looking hounded. Dean spotted a wilted plant and so did Sam and I, so Dean formulated a plan.

”You sure about that?” When Neil nodded, Dean smirked his proud smirk. “Listen. It doesn't really matter where she is. There's only one way to stop her. We've got to perform another ritual over her grave, to reverse the one that you did. We're going to need some black root, some-some scar weed, some candles... It's very complicated, but it'll get the job done. She'll be dead again in a couple hours. I think you should come with us.” Dean stared intently. “I'm serious, Neil. Leave with us. Right now.”

“No, no.”

I leaned in, dropping my voice to a whisper. “I get your situation, Neil. But more people could die. So, listen to me carefully. Get out of here as soon as you can. But most of all, be cool. No sudden movements. Don't make her mad.” He nodded shakily, and I patted him in the shoulder. I raised my voice deliberately, turning to Sam and Dean. “C’mon, let’s go.”

“You really think this is going to work?” Sam asked.

“Nope.” Dean shrugged. “But it’s the only plan we’ve got.”

”You ordered a metal pole?” Xavier showed up with a pointy metal rod, which he gave to Dean.

“Yeah, we did.” I grinned, kissing Xavier briefly. “Thanks, Zay.”

“We owe you, man.” Sam grinned, shaking his hand.

“Yeah, we do, Zay.” Dean teased. “I’m kidding. Name’s Dean.”

“Xavier, as you know.” He smirked, both of them shaking hands. We heard a noise, and I pulled a gun from my arm holster, going in the direction of the sound. I heard steps behind me, so I turned around and pointed my gun at Angela, who stopped short, putting her hands up.

“Wait! It's not what you think. I didn't ask to be brought back.” She begged. “But it's still me. I'm still a person. Please.”

“Do I care?” I scoffed, then shot her in the forehead. Her head snapped back as she screamed, and I started for the grave, but she tackled me, and twisted my head back.

“I could’ve told you who killed your brother!” She snarled. “Now you have to die, just like he did.”

“Yeah, right.” I shot her in the chest, getting up and shooting again. Another bullet joined me: Dean’s. We both fired at her again and again, until she reached the end, to which Xavier fired a shot from his gun, and she fell in. Dean took the pole, stabbing it into her.

“What’s dead should stay dead.” He growled.

“WAIT! NO-“ Dean drove the stake through her, and she immediately went limp, cutting off her last plea.

”Finally.” I groaned, replacing my cartridge.

Dean seemed rather off after we re-killed Angela, and Sam wanted to keep Xavier company, so the other two were driving back to my house in Xavier’s car. Dean’s hands were gripping the steering wheel so hard his knuckles were white, and then he suddenly pulled over. He got out and so did I, watching as he sat down on the hood.

“What’s going on?” I asked, sitting down.

“I’m sorry.” He whispered, looking down.

“For what, Dean?”

“The way I've been acting. And for Dad. It’s my fault that he’s dead.”

“What are you talking about?”

“I know you and Sam've been thinking it -- so have I. Doesn't take a genius to figure it out. Back at the hospital, I made a full recovery. It was a miracle. And five minutes later Dad's dead and the Colt's gone.”

I sighed. “Dean…”

“You can't tell me there's not a connection there. I don't know how the demon was involved. I don't know how the whole thing went down exactly. But Dad's dead because of me. And that much I do know.”

“We don’t know that, not for sure.”

“You, Sammy and Dad ... you're the most important people in my life.” He started crying, and I took his hand. “And now ... I never should've come back, Ivy. It wasn't natural. And now look what's come of it. I was dead. And I should have stayed dead. You and Sam wanted to know how I was feeling. Well, that's it. So tell me. What could you possibly say to make that all right?”

“I can’t.” I whispered, but I instead leaned his head on my shoulder, letting him cry it out. “But I know how you feel.”

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#dean x reader #dean winchester fanfiction #sam and dean #dean winchester #dean winchester x reader #spn masterlist #supernatural oc #dean winchester x oc #dean winchester x you #supernatural #ivonne rainer

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doveypink · 10 months

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tried and true blue [kaeya alberich]

summary: a surprise visit at night leaves you and kaeya scrambling to act. word count: 2.4k warnings: gn!reader; description of injuries, blood, & needles; implied violence; established relationship; reader has an electro vision; minor hurt/comfort; somewhat ragbros-centric. a/n: i started this in *checks notes* august of 2022, damn!! this isn't very romance-heavy because i just wanted to see more fics about kaeya and his partner coddling diluc like their shared cat :)

It’s not often that you receive visitors at your shared home with Kaeya. It’s even less often that said visitors would arrive in the dead of night covered in blood. Even so, you happened to wake up tonight at an ungodly hour to the sound of a fist pounding at the door.

You jolt upright instantly, years of training as a knight catching up to you all at once. The sheets are tossed aside as you stumble out of bed, disturbing Kaeya as you do so. He lifts his head from the silk pillow, his eyes blinking tiredly. “What are you—?” he begins, though he is cut off by another round of furious knocking.

You roll your shoulders back and answer, “That.” Kaeya quickly follows after you, snatching his eyepatch from the bedside dresser as you both scamper to the front door. You find your sword — a precaution in case there’s danger — and meet your boyfriend at the door. He holds the knob in hand, looking back at you to silently ask if you’re ready. You nod with your sword raised, to which he slowly twists the knob, turning it until it is unlatched. He waits just a moment before suddenly throwing it open to reveal the mystery visitor:

“Diluc?” you gasp, instantly putting your sword down. Before either of you can speak again, the redhead stumbles into the house, nearly falling over as his brother catches him.

“Are you bleeding?” Kaeya asks, concern evident in his tone. Diluc only grunts in response, mumbling something too quiet for you to hear. From the looks of his unusual outfit, you can safely assume he got into some trouble during his Darknight Hero business.

You shake off your surprise to shut the door and lock it behind you, placing your sword somewhere safe. Rushing to Diluc’s side, you aid your boyfriend in lifting his brother back to his feet.

“Let’s get him to the couch,” you advise. “We need to see what’s wrong with him.”

Kaeya agrees, huffing as you both drag Diluc further inside your home. The older brother is taking clearly labored breaths as he struggles to find his footing, but the cavalry captain hisses at him: “Deep breaths, Luc.”

Though trembling, Diluc seems to struggle a bit less, but he cries out in pain when he’s lowered to the couch. “Careful,” the redhead grunts. You do your best to settle him at least somewhat comfortably before rushing to find a first aid kit. Meanwhile, Kaeya looks over his brother, who appears to be covered in blood; the younger one can’t be sure whether it’s all his or not. “Where are you hurt?” he asks, turning on a nearby lamp and inspecting his brother.

Diluc shakily reaches down to push his overcoat aside and strip back his undershirt. Kaeya’s stomach drops when he sees the blood leaking from the wound on his brother’s side; while it doesn’t look large in diameter, the amount of bleeding means it was a deep cut. Instantly, Kaeya is applying pressure with his hands. “Who did this to you?” he asks in a voice shaking with anger.

The older brother doesn’t get a chance to respond. You rush into the room with the first aid kit in hand, sitting next to Kaeya. “What is it?”

Kaeya rattles off his assessment: “Deep cut. We can’t stitch it right away, there could be internal bleeding. He needs a healer for that.” With a desperate look, your boyfriend pleads: “Can you help him?”

It would be an understatement to say that your healing was abysmal. You’re nothing like Barbara, a natural-born healer with powers unlike any other. You can’t heal like Jean either, the way she could so effortlessly aid her knights in battle. Hell, even Bennett could heal better than you, and his luck was practically nonexistent.

But even so, the circumstances are dire, and you’re not about to let your friend bleed to death on your couch. “I can do it,” you say with faux confidence — it’s meant to reassure your lover, but in an odd way, you find yourself surprised by your own tone. You place your hands over Diluc’s wound, watching the blood ooze out. “This might hurt a bit at first, okay? Just hold on.”

Diluc nods, looking paler than ever, while Kaeya places a tender hand to the small of your back. You take a deep breath, conjuring up the power of Electro as it tingles up your arms, past your elbows, and to the tips of your fingers. You push this power out of you, visualizing the wound healing under your touch.

As electricity begins to spark from your hands, it reaches the open cut and travels throughout Diluc’s body. He flinches, tensing from the discomfort. The sparks steadily become more intense, buzzing under your palms. The redhead bites his fist, breathing raggedly as the pain overwhelms him. Next to you, Kaeya watches his brother writhe in pain. “You’ll be okay, I promise,” he reassures, looking back to you afterwards. “Are you alright?”

Sweat drips from your forehead as you strain to control your powers. “Y-Yes, I can feel it working,” you grunt, muscles aching. You fight past the urge to give up, determined to pour all of your energy into healing Diluc. Your hands tremble from the force of it, electricity crackling more sporadically as your friend heals.

“The bleeding has slowed down, you’re almost there!” Kaeya praises, rubbing your back. You would be elated if it wasn’t for the fact that you’re suddenly feeling more and more tired. The sparks from your hands flicker on and off like a faulty lightbulb, unable to create a consistent stream of energy.

“I can’t…” You trail off, feeling faint.

Kaeya holds you up, his brows furrowed. He looks between you and Diluc, unsure of what to do. If he tries to convince you to keep healing his brother, it could kill you if you drain too much energy; but if you stopped now, the wound would remain open, leaving his brother vulnerable. In a moment of haste, Kaeya took your hands in his and pulled them away. “You’ve done more than enough,” he whispers, pressing a quick kiss to your forehead. You lean against the couch, your head pounding with a headache as Kaeya collects the first aid kit.

“Just let me be,” Diluc mumbles as his younger brother searches through the kit. “I shouldn’t have come here.”

Kaeya scoffs, offended by the notion. “No, you need our help. That’s what you’ll get,” he says, preparing to stitch Diluc’s wound back together. Your healing has luckily stopped most of the bleeding and the wound is not as deep as before, but it will take some serious work to fix it. Kaeya holds a needle in one hand and uses the other to pinch the skin together; he pierces the skin and pulls the needle through, listening as his brother hisses from the sting. Kaeya can do nothing but ignore it even as low utterances become loud yelps of pain.

Just as Kaeya is finishing, Diluc mumbles something unintelligible before passing out. The younger brother jumps up once the last stitch is done, trying to shake his brother awake. “Diluc? Diluc, stay with me—!”

Your partner stops when he feels a tug on his shirt. He looks down to see your clearly exhausted form. “Let him rest. He’ll be fine as long as Barbara sees him in the morning.” Kaeya looks hesitant to let his brother rest, but you only shake your head and sigh. “He lost a lot of blood. He needs to rest. I can try to heal him more if you—”

“No, don’t,” Kaeya interrupts. “He… He can make it. You sealed it up well enough.”

The man sinks to the floor next to you, resting his head on your shoulder. His brother’s blood stains his fingers, and he knows it will be weeks before the dried red flecks disappear from under his nails. Your hand slips into Kaeya’s, pulling his attention back to you so you can say, “We’re okay.”

You fall asleep shortly after, consciousness fading as the ghost of a kiss graces your jaw.

Light floods the room, stirring you from a heavy slumber. You try to collect yourself as you enter the waking world, still exhausted from… something. When you turn to look for your partner, you find that the bed is empty; disappointment blossoms in your chest. A question occurs to you: when exactly did you go to the bedroom? Your memory begins to catch up, recalling the night before. Diluc arrived at your door severely injured, you attempted to heal him, and then you were unconscious.

Before you get a chance to ponder how you made it to bed, Kaeya opens the bedroom door. His eye meets yours, relief washing over him. “Good, you’re awake. I’ve never seen you sleep in this long before. Then again, you put in quite the work last night.” Your lover is holding a glass of water and a bowl of fruit, which he hands to you. Your stomach growls and you pop a grape into your mouth as Kaeya asks you, “How are you feeling?”

“Tired, but nothing I can’t handle,” you say. “How did I get over here? And is Diluc okay?”

Kaeya sits on the edge of the bed next to you. “I carried you in last night. I figured you wouldn’t want to wake up on the floor. Diluc is better, though. I had Barbara visit first thing in the morning, and she healed him right up. The blood loss did a number on him, though — he’s still asleep on the couch. Oh, and I cleaned you both up. Didn’t want to get blood all over our nice sheets, right?”

You laugh, huffing out a light breath of air. “Of course not. So what did you say to Barb when she asked what happened?”

“Late night boar attack,” Kaeya snorts.

Your eyes roll. His brother is absolutely going to hate him for that. You take a sip of water before asking, “Mind if I check on him?”

Kaeya nods, supporting you as you step out of bed despite your complaints that you can walk perfectly fine on your own. When you arrive at the couch, you smile at the sight of your friend dozing away. A blanket has been tossed over him and a pillow situated under his head; he curls in on himself, as peaceful as ever.

“Damn, he’s out cold. I’ve never seen him look so calm,” you whisper in awe.

“Neither have I,” Kaeya agrees. “But we really ought to wake him.”

You frown, furrowing your brows at your partner. “What? Why would we do that?”

“He’s slept long enough. And it would be funny,” Kaeya shrugs.

You sigh and bump your shoulder against his. “Don’t be rude. He’s obviously tired, we should leave him alone.”

Kaeya puts on a look of faux concern. “So you don’t think he should wake up and eat? I’d say you’re the rude one now.”

After another minute of back and forth, you finally give up. “Fine, wake him! Whatever! I don’t care anymore!”

Your partner laughs, kissing your cheek. “Perfect. Okay, so first you’re going to jump on him—”

“I’m going to do what? Kaeya—!”

“Barbara said he won’t be in any pain so you don’t even have to worry about that!”

“I’m more concerned that he’ll try to kill us after.”

“He would never do such a thing,” Kaeya says confidently.

You give him an unimpressed look and tap his eyepatch. “Right. Never.”

He pouts and crosses his arms defensively. “Hey. Not funny. That was different.”

“Uh-huh. Well, I really don’t want to bother your— Hey!” you screech as you’re suddenly picked up and tossed at the couch like a rag doll. You fall on top of Diluc with a graceless augh! while you scramble to get off of him.

Diluc wakes up instantly, of course, his brows furrowed and a deep set frown etched into his face. He already looks about ready to murder you. “What the hell are you—?”

Kaeya is next to throw himself onto the couch, cannon-balling on top of you and Diluc while you both yell obscenities. Your lover has the nerve to giggle, his arms spread over the both of you to cover more surface area. “Yeah, yeah, laugh it up, pretty boy,” you grumble. “Let’s see how you’re laughing when I get you for this.”

Diluc glares where his brother’s head rests over your chest. “You must be a child to still pull the same pranks from years ago.”

“It’s called having fun, not that you would know what that is,” Kaeya snipes. “In fact, I recall a time where you would have found this amusing.”

“I have a hard time believing that,” you mumble.

Kaeya looks betrayed, frowning like a wounded puppy. “Really? No support from the love of my life? How could you be so cold?”

“Alright, that’s enough talking,” Diluc groans. “I’m too tired for this. Get off and leave me alone. I’ll be on my way soon after.”

Now is your turn to frown. “Seriously? You bled all over the place last night and had us scared half to death and you just plan to walk out like nothing happened?”

The red-haired man sighs, his eyes softening a bit. “That’s not what I—”

“What an awfully rude thing to say,” Kaeya scoffs. “Even after all my little snowflake went through trying to heal you, you can’t even utter a single word of thanks?”

Diluc’s face goes hot with shame. “Of course I’m thankful—!”

You cut in, wearing your own look of disapproval. “I thought friends were supposed to be more supportive of each other than this. I nearly went blue in the face to keep you alive, and this is how you treat me? Maybe we aren’t as close as I thought…”

The man becomes increasingly exasperated, finally begging for the guilt trip to stop. “Fine, I’m sorry! I appreciate everything you two did for me. I know I worried you both and it’s unfair of me to take your kindness for granted. I am forever in your debt and I will spend the rest of my days seeking forgiveness. Happy?”

“Hm… Not quite,” Kaeya says.

You nod dutifully. “Agreed. I say you should start repaying us by staying right here.”

“I second that notion,” your lover confirms.

Diluc pauses for a moment before releasing a long, exhausted sigh. “Whatever makes you happy. Just let me sleep in peace this time.”

Giddily, you and Kaeya settle in more comfortably, cuddling on the couch and soaking in Diluc’s warmth like a cat in the sun. Soon enough, the redhead is asleep again, snoring with two knights to keep him safe.

#dove writes #c: kaeya #kaeya x reader #kaeya alberich x reader #genshin x reader #reader insert #kaeya x y/n #kaeya x you #ragbros

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anachronistic-falsehood · 1 year

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SO. ON THE TOPIC OF LOSS OF AUTONOMY. i am having the analysis brainworms now i hope u dont mind me going off in ur inbox. hi :]

there is something to be said about how vash's name is used against him constantly. that loss of who he even is as a person. i think about this so much. his name, his very identity is taken away from him. just the mere mention of the name vash the stampede is enough to send an ENTIRE town into a panic. it happens so much and its DEVASTATING to me. hes been labelled a monster across the entire world, and people who stick by his side after hearing his name are few and far between. theres been so much fear tacked onto his name, so much so that OTHER outlaws have used it on multiple occasions to make themselves more powerful. using his name to commit crimes that the real vash would be horrified to even consider. power in names and all that.

vash even. leans into it himself at a certain point. in order to protect the people of augusta he runs through the city shooting bullets into the air and solidifying his image of a deranged killer in the pursuit of. saving everyone. the only way theyll listen to him is if they think hes going to kill them all. if theyre afraid of him. theres also the part in hang fire (? i think its that one) where hes walking through the halls of the sand steamer singing about killing people in order to scare the bandits into not hurting the hostages.

and then you think about. eriks. how lina and her grandma took him in and accepted them as part of his family. how the town around them accepted him only because they had no idea who he actually was. he was a good guy... up until they learned he was vash. and then we get the conversation between the two men in the bar talking about how they should chase him out of town, despite living around him and knowinf him and seeing how good he is for . two years.

but lina and her grandma still accept him after that. theyre one of the only people besides milly/meryl/wolfwood who genuinely love and care abt him despite his name. they still want to keep him safe, grandma asks wolfwood to protect him and keep him out of trouble, even after learning hes the legendary outlaw gunman. because shes seen the true vash ans doesnt let the name scare her.

aughhh im rambling now i probably should have made this into my own post but this makes me SO fuckign crazy dude . give me ur thoughts id love to hear them.

I. YEAH. YEAH. OH MY GOD. Like. nothing is his own anymore. His name is used against him, his face is plastered on wanted posters. There is nothing about himself that he can truly call his. Not even his Plant powers! Because those are used against him time and time again by Knives in EVERY ADAPTATION!!!!

Like. Vash is no longer the name of a kid who once argued with his brother and laughed with his mother and celebrated his birthday and rolled around in grassy fields. It's the name of an outlaw who will kill at the drop of a hat. It's the name of an out-of-control human natural disaster who's leveled cities. If he doesn't even have his name, then what part of himself is really himself anymore?

AND THAT'S WHY I LOVE ERIKS! He finally has something of his own! He's got a name that attached to no one, and a life where he can settle down and stay out of the public eye. He finally has something that is truly his. And no one lets him keep that except for Lina and her grandma.

This guy really has no control over his own life doesn't he!!! He's a passive character in the story of his own life!!! He has nothing of his own, no identity past "humanoid typhoon" because everything about his identity has been stripped from him and morphed into something he's not. He has no say in anything in his life, not even who he is as a person, AND IT DRIVES ME BONKERS N FUCKING YONKERS!!!!

#whiskeys word soup #friend tag :3 #trigun #not doing the full formatting for my usual analysis posts bc this is shorter than most #but i'll throw in a few bolds and italics for ease of reading #BUT YEAH. YEAH. i don't have much more to say bc you worded it perfectly but YEAH.#grabbing you by the shoulders and shaking you MAC I'M GOING TO EAT STYROFOAM #MAC. YOUR MIND.#GOD. HE REALLY DOES HAVE ABSOLUTELY NOTHING OF HIS OWN DOESN'T HE #he has no control over anything that happens to him i'm clawing at the walls I'M SCREAMING AND WAILING!!!!!#oh eriks my beloved. being eriks was probably the only thing that made vash feel like a normal person for the longest time #and it was only for two years. TWO YEARS out of ONE HUNDRED AND FIFTY

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remyfire · 1 month

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teehee, 66 or 37 for leobeej <3

(prompts now closed) Fellow Leo warrior, what if we do both? :D 37.) Edging 66.) Caught masturbating

The moment BJ's dorm door shuts behind him, he checks his watch, then swears under his breath. Ten minutes. Even as he chucks his schoolbag on the bed, his mind spins faster than a centrifuge. I don't have time for this. Even as he rips open his belt. I'm an adult. Even as he works at his button fly. I'm a goddamn Stanford student, for Christ's sake. But notably none of these thoughts are doing anything to either divert his course of action or calm his half-hard cock. If anything, the adrenaline is making him dizzy with need.

Nine minutes. BJ leans against his armoire as he spits in his palm. He's got nine minutes until Leo's going to show up and drag him to lunch. It's safer that way, really. Any time BJ meets up with him in the dining room, his chair leg's sawed through or there's a whoopee cushion in his seat or a live spider hidden under Leo's hat that just happens to be on the table where BJ's plate is going to end up. If Leo comes straight from his chemistry class to walk BJ down for a meal, then it keeps him out of trouble and gives him far less time to set up mischief. Not foolproof, but—

Eight minutes, fuck. This is what thinking about Leo does to him nowadays. It gets BJ off track from very necessary procedures that will ensure his sanity through the following half hour. He shoves his hand inside his shorts and bites back a groan the moment his cock is in his hand. He wastes no time in stroking himself, teasing, coaxing it to fully harden as quickly as possible. He needs to get off and he needs to do it now.

He doesn't know yet how to reconcile their fondly antagonistic friendship with the handful of times that they've messed around together—or perhaps it's more accurate to say when Leo has messed around with him. It always happens out of nowhere. They'll be studying together and Leo will flop on BJ's bed, put his chin on his shoulder, and read from BJ's textbook rather than his own. And before he has the time to parse through how humid the air has suddenly become, Leo's dragging the tip of his nose over the sensitive skin of his throat and sliding his clever, long-fingered hand out of sight under the book to cup BJ through his trousers.

That's the memory that floods him now, that has blood filling his cock until he's painfully throbbing in his grip. "No, no, keep going," Leo had whispered against his ear with a chuckle that dragged goosebumps all down his body. "If you fail that test tomorrow, how're you gonna explain that to the scholarship board, huh?"

A strangled whimper vibrates through BJ from head to toe as he pushes his trousers and shorts all the way down, hears the clattering of his belt buckle when it hits the floor. God, Bardonaro's such a fucking piece of work, all gleaming eyes and sharp smirks, an easygoing drawl that sometimes makes BJ feel like a moron for how stressed he'll get about his own marks. Tempting propositions, addictive invitations for prank after game after lark, all these verbal jabs and banter that pull at BJ's loneliest threads until he's practically on a leash in Leo's grip, one that's twisted around his fist so many times that the only way to escape would be cutting through it.

But every time BJ gets spooked enough to try, there's Leo again, boxing BJ into a corner and palming him so lazily, cocking his head as he examines him like BJ's a scientific experiment. Getting him caught in the whirlpool. And though BJ knows that Leo's height doesn't equate to physical power—that it would take barely any effort at all for BJ to shove him away—he'd be the most egregious liar if he tried to tell himself that he didn't want every second of his attention.

BJ all but strips his cock with his rapid pace, beginning to tremble as he moans. C'mon, c'mon, he goads himself. You want him to see you hard all through lunch? It's meant to be embarrassing enough to dissuade him but all it brings to the surface is an image of Leo shoving BJ flat on the table in the middle of their fraternity house's dining hall and yanking his pants down and making BJ touch himself right there in front of everybody. Making all of their brothers see that BJ Hunnicutt, the golden boy, is so desperate for Leo that he'll follow anything he says. And fuck, if that doesn't have him dribbling a thick bead of arousal.

Leo's a bastard is what he is. He'll make BJ wait outside his room a good ten minutes after they're supposed to meet up for a walk to the quad because Leo's snuck a girl in again, is making her gasp and beg and scream in his bed for more, more, more. He'll scribble obscene doodles in the margins of BJ's notes.

But the thing is he's also the guy who'll sit back to back with BJ until sunrise, quizzing him on his notes without a word of complaint. He'll drop a mug of coffee off for him almost every morning so BJ can save the time, can grab an extra five minutes of sleep. When the guilt creeps in with the night—the knowledge of how sharply BJ cut off his parents the moment he arrived here, the way he has to hold his own baby sister at bay until he can get his degree and come back and get her out—Leo is always the one with an arm around his shoulders, sometimes filling the silence with jokes, sometimes just existing with him.

He's a bastard and he's also the strongest human connection that BJ has here, and it all wraps up to make him impossible to stay away from, even if BJ ever wanted to.

He's close. God, he's close, just needs a little more. BJ rips through his mental filing cabinet to try and find something, anything shocking enough that'll throw him over the edge. Leo jerking him off in the quiet corner of the library where anyone could walk in on them, maybe. Leo hiding under BJ's desk when one of their fraternity brothers drops in. Leo...Leo pinning BJ down in his bed, pressing the head of his own cock against—

The door flies open just in time to remind BJ that he never locked it.

"Fuck," BJ mutters as he throws open his armoire and ducks behind the panel, bending forward to try and grab hold of his trousers. "What the hell do I have to do to get you to knock?"

"Now, why would your best buddy ever have to knock, huh, Beej?" Leo drawls.

When the lock clicks shut, it's like a gun going off. BJ's cock twitches, drips onto the floor as he makes another attempt to snag his belt while his head is spinning. "Because it's goddamn polite?"

"We don't do polite in Philly." Step, step, step, one heavy footfall right after the other. Just as BJ straightens up with his clothes in hand, Leo's arm snaps around the armoire door and grabs BJ by the wrist. "What're we up to?"

"We're not up to anything." But BJ's voice is already breathless, and though he does his best to be modest, it's not like there's an easy way to hide his dick when it's fully erect and hanging out like this. "I-I just figured I'd—"

"—get up to all the fun without me?"

BJ whips his head around. The words disintegrate in his throat the moment he locks eyes with Leo and sees that slowly but steadily rising heat mirrored back at him. With a crooked smile in place, Leo looks every inch a leopard, toothy fangs and triumphant in how he's stalked his prey until there's nowhere to go to escape his whims.

Leo moistens his dry lips with a quick swipe of his tongue. "Where'd this come from?" He flicks his gaze down, then back up again.

God, God, this is really not helping the situation at all. It's the return of that thought loop, knowing he's strong enough to rip himself away, somehow getting twice as aroused at the thought of putting all the control in Leo's hands anyway. BJ sucks in a shaky breath. "Well, Bardonaro, you see," he begins, "when the muscles of the corpora cavernosa begin to relax, blood rushes into the penis, which makes it expand." Before his very eyes, Leo's smirk is widening, but BJ can't make himself stop talking. "And when the membrane of the tunica albuginea locks the blood inside the corpora cavernosa, an erection is sustained."

A few heavy seconds pass before Leo inclines his head, brow lifting. "Bravo. You'll excuse me if I don't clap." He rotates around so BJ's trapped against his open armoire door. His fingers open and send the trousers crashing back to the floor. "Well, well, well, Mr. Anatomy, it sounds like you've been retaining something from the lectures after all. I bet you've got a whole host of naughty essays you've been turning in, huh?"

"What better way to get extra credit?" BJ snarks back as though he's not melting against the wood, giving Leo another inch of height superiority.

"Mm." Leo pins BJ's wrist against the door. "Why don't you give your writing hand a rest, then?" And he wraps his fingers around BJ's cock.

BJ's eyelashes flutter but he fights against the temptation to let his lids droop shut. No, he wants to watch—not Leo's hand but his face. He needs to memorize all of these nuances of his expression so that when BJ turns his lamp off tonight and finds himself unable to sleep, he can start to parse through the details. If Leo's just playing with him like a cat toys with a mouse. If Leo ever glances at BJ's mouth.

Right now, Leo's simply grinning, barely blinking, looking right into BJ's eyes. "So who were you thinking of while playing with yourself, Hunnicutt? Barbara Stanwyck?" He drapes his other forearm over BJ's head so he can loom over him while working him over.

I thought about you fucking me. The crudeness, the perversion of the thought makes him flush redder than a tomato. Sweat beads on his brow. "Th-That's your type, not mine."

"Oh yeah? What's your type, then, pretty boy?" It's not the first time that mildly condescending term has slipped off Leo's tongue but it's absolutely its first occurrence when they're...when they're doing this, whatever this is. "Here I thought you were into brunettes. Stupid me. It's blondes, isn't it?"

BJ bites the inside of his cheek. He's not gonna say a goddamn word about that either. Not when he's straddling his peak again, right there, toes peeking over the edge. A shivery whimper escapes his closed mouth anyway.

"Yeah, that's what it is, huh?" Leo's lilting, playful tone suddenly dips into huskiness. "Petite little blondes, cute as buttons. Not tall, willowy brunettes. That'd be silly. Wouldn't it, Beej?" He leans an inch closer. "Wouldn't it be silly for you to come all over yourself thinking about a thing like that?"

"Fuck..." The word's more whimper than language, really. His eyes are beginning to burn but he can't. Look. Away. Can't miss this. He wants to be drowning in Leo when he breaks, when, when he...

And then Leo pulls back.

With a chuckle, Leo shoves his hands in his pockets and begins to saunter away. "Eh, y'know what, I'm gonna be late for class if we don't get our butts down to lunch right now. C'mon, put your pants on, you big lug."

Is he... He's not gonna... BJ shakes, knees knocking, his entire body burning and tipping into pained. He's really just gonna walk away right now? Leave BJ like this?

No. No, no, no, absolutely fucking not.

In hindsight, it's a foolish idea to go after Leo this quickly when BJ's ankles are trapped in his trousers, but he darts toward him nonetheless and loses his footing immediately. He grabs Leo's arm for stability, yanks, and suddenly the two of them are stumbling, reeling all the way to BJ's bed. Leo lands in an awkward sit, but BJ catches himself on two lithe, delicate shoulders and digs his fingers in until he thinks he might be leaving a bruise. Marking him.

A fresh rush of hunger cascades through him in a deluge. "You bastard," he growls. "Get me off right now. Now, Bardonaro."

There's a pause, longer than a century, but right as BJ begins to regret his sharpness, Leo grabs his cock and picks up a blistering pace. "Okay, okay. Geez. Didn't know it was that important to you."

"Dick..." But he can't sustain as much malice when he's touching Leo this time, squeezing his...acromion, his brain provides at the last moment. And Leo's resting his other palm gently on the small of BJ's back.

And he's moving. Descending. Squeezing a handful of BJ's ass.

"Oh, fuck." BJ's jaw drops. Despite all his internal insisting, he squeezes his eyes shut. The images rush in again, Leo holding BJ down, dragging his hardness slowly into the cleft between his cheeks, further, further...

Two incredibly interesting things happen simultaneously. One, Leo rubs a fingertip over BJ's hole. Two, Leo wraps his lips around the tip of BJ's cock.

"Fuck! Oh, fuck, God, Leo—" BJ explodes in Leo's mouth like a firework of white-hot ecstasy. It's never been like this, never, never, the overwhelming rush of sparks through his veins that has him curling in on himself as his shocked moans bleed into shuddering, broken whines. Humiliatingly, as he surfaces, he becomes aware of the tears trapped behind his lids, how if he even chances opening them right now, they'll come spilling down his cheeks.

What's about to happen? If he cries, is Leo going to knock him around for it? He could get the whole fraternity in here, set them loose on their resident pervert.

All at once, he's convinced he's about to take a punch to the jaw, and he can't let that happen when he won't see it. So with a deep breath, BJ eases his eyes open and sends the tears rushing forth as though from a broken dam.

Leo's watching him. He's not smiling. Not laughing. But he's not angry either. No, the longer BJ stares, the more Leo looks...concerned? Furrowed brow and slightly narrowed eyes. And for some reason, that makes BJ let out a choked sob.

"Hey, come on, c'mere, before you fall and break your nose on your desk or something." Leo's tone is as low and soothing as he's ever heard it. He pulls BJ in, yanks him straight into his lap, then wraps his arms around his waist, and when BJ buries his face in Leo's shoulder, he doesn't even complain about the tears soaking his shirt. "Yeah, you're okay, Beej." One gentle hand rubs up and down his spine and invites him little by little to relax. "I was gonna skip class anyway, all right? You just... You take all the time you need."

#unfortunately they continue to possess me so bless you meej for giving me this opportunity to be unwell #bj hunnicutt #leo bardonaro #bardicutt #leobeej #beejleo #my writing #ask meme replies

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rosencrantznewblue · 4 months

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Just finished watching the 1933 Invisible Man yesterday, and on a certain level I find it utterly hilarious just how quickly Griffin’s “reign of terror” went kaput. Pretty sure the guy didn’t even last more than a month after turning invisible (died at the hands of an angry mob, not unheard of for a Universal Monster), and for all that the surrounding characters were kind of clownish at times, they sure put things together quickly.

Although maybe that was partly the point? I know the major theme is that man should not advance science without reasonable boundaries, a moral compass, and the good of others in mind, but I feel like “community vs isolation/misanthropy” could be a part of the message too. The townspeople only defeat Griffin because they work together, after all. Despite the advantages of being invisible, Griffin’s biggest weaknesses come from being invisible too. He can break rules and get away with whatever crimes he wants, but he’s cut off from other people.

The first few scenes of the movie establish that other people find Griffin off-putting. Not just because he’s a stranger dressed in bandages and odd clothing, but because of how he treats everyone. He’s rude, ungrateful, angry, secretive, and generally just a cruel person. And this comes back to bite Griffin! He doesn’t get away with being an A-hole. He’s called out for his behavior and barely escapes being arrested, forced to strip naked during winter so he can escape. And sure, Griffin cackles about this and acts like it’s his way of punishing those around him for not leaving him alone, but he basically shoots himself in the foot. From here until the end of the movie, he’s essentially on one long downward spiral, running around naked, pissing people off, and not actually managing to reverse his invisibility like he said he wanted. Although he also says things that would imply he’d like to stay invisible for the power? Maybe he means the power to change back and forth at will? Either way, Griffin has a lot of grandiosity for someone who spends the whole movie just barely getting away with stuff in the least magnificent or competent way possible.

Granted, it’s stated a few times that the invisibility chemical has probably altered Griffin’s mind, but it’s also implied that he’s always been this way to some degree. Kemp doesn’t seem to think very highly of Griffin at the start of the movie (even less so later on). He shows the audience that Griffin was paranoid and dabbling in strange, selfish research even before the invisibility, and even makes a case for why Griffin is simply not worth the care that others, namely Flora and her father, give him.

At the same time, I find it interesting that Griffin made two notable attempts to reach out to other people despite this, but in each case the relationship was doomed from the start. The first attempt may hardly count as a relationship at all: Griffin shows up at Kemp’s house uninvited, threatens him, demands hospitality, offhandedly mentions all the violence and trouble he’s been up to, and then decides that all of this of course means he and Kemp are buddies. He seems to genuinely believe that (a) he’s capable of ruling the world thanks to invisibility, and that (b) Kemp is totally fine with this idea and would love to join him. Obviously Griffin himself admits that he sought Kemp out because he needs a visible person to do all the things he simply can’t do unnoticed anymore, but it’s more than that. Griffin is paranoid as a matter of course, but actually seems surprised when he finds out Kemp called the police on him. He thought they were going to rule the world!

The second relationship Griffin seems rather attached to is with Flora. She’s the only person who really “soothes” him, the only one who continues to extend compassion and care even after finding out about his crimes. Even so, Griffin insists that they can’t be together until he turns himself visible again. He refuses the help of her father or anyone else, claiming his own brilliance is the key, if only he would be left alone.

In both cases, Griffin ruins any chance of a relationship through his own selfish, narcissistic personality. He’s not a nice or safe person to be around! And even for those who stick by him, Griffin refuses the help or even company of others. His invisibility, once revealed, is always a horror or an abomination to other people. He’s frightening, and yet also simply a man whom they detest. The only exception to this is Flora, who doesn’t shy away from Griffin because he’s invisible, even if she still believes it’s something they must all work together to cure. In a way, she still “sees” Griffin as the man he’s always been, even if folks like Kemp would say he was never worth the care to begin with.

Which, again, kind of ties into this secondary theme I’m getting at here. I don’t know how well this movie translated the book, but I’m always intrigued by stories that say something about the value of healthy relationships or depending on other people. Griffin thinks he’s stronger on his own, stronger by being able go unseen, but the isolation of invisibility proves to be a double edged sword. In the end, he’s just as vulnerable as anyone else. Maybe more so, because the invisibility is what leads to his death.

#never posted much here but…#trying it out #the invisible man #hg wells #classic movies #analyzing media #my posts #rambling about movies

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kankuroplease · 2 years

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Spicy madara x katsura hcs?

I think they’d find a happy balance 🖤

Obliviously there’s some spicy/nsfw details below so don’t read more if you don’t want to read that 🤝

Katsura’s lack of experience would mean she’d follow Madara’s lead at first when it came to their sex life

Madara thought he had a submissive partner the first couple of times

until she tried to use his own tactics on him

Walking up behind him and embracing him before running her hands down his torso and into his pants

Covering his mouth while she road out an orgasm because he was taunting her (affectionately)

Katsura doesn’t like always being dominated and Madara isn’t submissive

So it’s almost always a power struggle

And the only way they can determine who will take the lead starting out is by making the other submit to them via edging during foreplay or silent commands

Madara daring her not to come while fingering her expertly for as long as she can put on her tough girl act

Honestly, he hopes she doesn’t cave because repeatedly edging her is actually more effective in getting her to beg for his cock

It’s music to his ears as she typically tries to hold in her moans and pleas

And he’ll give her anything she wants after she sucks/licks his fingers clean of her own mess

Katsura loves giving him strip teases and smacking his hand away when he tries to touch her. “Ask me nicely, first”

LOVES when she just shoves him down and climbs on top of him with unwavering eye contact. Something about the audacity, turns him on so much

Katsura gets frustrated every time he dirty talks, which is all them time.

His favorite sight is her dressed up and waiting patiently on the bed for him on the bed in the sweet little seated position she does

Yes, she can take it 💀 Yeah, she’s a slut for his cock (IF he has to put it that way)💀 No she can’t coherently respond without sounding like a mumbling mess. Shut up 💀

There isn’t a surface they haven’t fucked on because they’re both impatient and impulsive if the moods right

Madara into giving firm ass smacks while she’s on top because of the cute little whimpers she lets out

Katsura uses sex to get the quality time she feels she deserves (yeah, she thinks she’s more important than paperwork some days ) and often gets in trouble for it even though he likes it

If he’s working at a desk? she’s crawling under it to mess with him/give him a blowjob. Doesn’t really care if he gets a visitor as one of her specialties is going undetected.

Hashirama may or may not have spot her hair once. He was nice enough not to say anything and leave as quickly as possible

If he’s leaving to walk around the village and she doesn’t want him to go. She’ll wear his favorite way too short silk robe and asking does he really have to go~

Madara almost always leaves bruises around her hips and thighs, even when he’s being gentle(ish). He likes the look of them and will kiss them from time to time when he’s trying to be more romantic

Katsura’s odd little habit of liking to incorporate syrups to lick off him into foreplay has earned her the nickname ‘Kitten’

Madara is definitely into hair pulling. Pulling hers and having his own pulled

he knows she doesn’t like getting her hair messed up.. but it she actually moans louder and fucks him harder when he tugs it at a certain angle

Katsura has tied him to the bed and left him and ran high and dry as revenge for pulling her though

Temperature/wax play 🕯

Toys. Katsura has quite the collection of gifted toys that she didn’t use and Madara made a point of changing that.

And he’s bossy as heck about it. If she’s doesn’t give him a proper show, he’ll just use them on her himself.

Which usually ends in her being overstimulated from orgasm after orgasm because he’s mean like that.

And he uses his sharingan so her most embarrassing moments will live on 💀

Katsura has offered to peg him sense he likes toys so much, but he told her she’d have to “earn it”

Madara’s favorite position: any position he has full control. But honorable mention to reverse cowgirl because of her back tattoo.

Katsura’s favorite position: Standing. It’s just a major turn on for her, don’t look at her. Honorable mention to when he presses her upper back down, effectively pushing her into the mattress while he fucks her from behind.

Madara’s taken note of how much she enjoys handholding and will naturally seek out her hands or wrist to hood when he’s about to come.

And Katsura, if she’s not totally fucked out, will protest a bit if he comes anywhere but inside of her. No breeding kink, she just doesn’t like the task of cleaning up (if it gets in her hair, she’s going to be pissy) and thinks it’s a little disrespect like are you cum marking her?? RUDE MF.

Because they tend to be so passionate and rough with each other, they both enjoy aftercare. Shared bath to wash each other clean, applying any ointment they may need, gentle caressing, and pillow talk before drifting off

#ask #nsft #tw suggestive #madara x katsura #madara uchiha #oc: katsura #my art #q #kpz naruto founder au #knfau 🖼️#knfau ℹ️#kpz firestorm 🔥

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markantonys · 2 years

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Gareth bryne hate anon here lol. Yes individually his character is rn just like whatever to me but his relationship with siuan is just gross. Siuans arc with living without her powers is interesting to me but i am so annoyed with a) her looking like a young woman/girl instead her age (hate that trope) and b) her fucking relationship. Nothing i despise more than their dymamic with her being forced to serve him and then him being interested in her which compels him to keep her in service etc etc... like literally vomiting why jordan why 🤢🤢

And yes to all min conversation!! In foh u really notice how different her narration is compared to for example nynaeve and elayne. They will miss and think about lan and rand as is normal and fine, but they have their own like arcs and things that interest them and drive them and shit. Like elayne wants to go help rand and be with rand but she will not let that thought drive all her behaviour. They also develop relationships with characters around them, friendships, allies, enemies etc. Which was so jarring compared to when reading mins pov like she was so detached from everything siuan/leane/logain were doing, didnt have anything else to drive her behaviour except for rand. She has such interesting power too and she just like doesnt give a shit 😂

Ok this turned into another rant lol hope u dont mind

haha i don't mind at all i love this rant, we are totally on the same page! ugh yeah siuan visibly de-aging when she was stilled made me SO mad!! i feel like if anything she should've looked older and closer to her true age now that the aes sedai agelessness has been stripped away. aes sedai agelessness in and of itself annoys me, i feel like it's this fantasy of "powerful older women but they actually look young and hot" although i will say that it's been a relevant plot point many times that there's a way to visibly recognize an aes sedai and they have trouble hiding who they are. also hate the whole "aes sedai don't marry because few men would be into a woman who's more powerful than them" like if rj wanted it to be a thing that aes sedai don't marry, he could've just said that aes sedai are so wholly focused on their duties that they have no interest in marriage, or that aes sedai aren't allowed to marry because the white tower made a rule, and i would've been fine with that. and i feel like siuan getting her romance only after losing her powers feeds into the idea in a way i hate, like she's not allowed to fall in love until she's put in a position where the man in question is more powerful than her.

and yes to everything about min! when their love interests aren't currently with them, nynaeve and elayne think about them like 5-10% of the time and min is a solid 95% and i am not exaggerating. you're so right she truly does not seem to give a shit about siuan, leane, or logain or what any of them are trying to accomplish, she's just looking for a way to get back to rand. she has no relationships with other characters, i cannot list a single friend min has except for elayne (which is more told to us than shown, as they have very little screentime together). she DOES have a cool power that could've been used to affect the plot and/or her character arc in a meaningful way, but no! her sole goal in life is to make rand love her! especially frustrating when compared to how layered and three-dimensional the other female characters are and how many goals and ambitions they all have. but min truly is just rand's sexy lamp.

#anonymous #answered #wot book spoilers

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lifeflowingon · 2 years

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| ROYAL |

SUMMARY: A day in the life... but make it royal.

PAIRING: Namjoon x female reader

GENRE: Established relationship, arranged marriage.

WARNINGS: Smut.

A/N: Namjoon drabble #5

||||

"What are you doing?"

"Baking some goods for the princess"

"You just got back. Why are you busy already?" he asked, looking at her softly, while she moved around the kitchen palace.

"Honey, it took me a lot to convince my father to let me stay at court. And I've missed so much. I missed the engagement..."

"But, they were engaged for like a year. How could you-?"

"I missed the wedding" she continued, pointedly "I just want to be here Joon" she added, turning on herself and hugging his waist "I also miss you when I'm away".

"Your father is the ambassador and you have to go with him. I understand that".

"Not anymore" she exclaimed cheerfully "I convinced him and I'm staying"

"What? Really?!"

"Where do you want to place the tarts milady?"

"On the basket, please darling, thank you" she answered to her maid "I want to gift all of that to the future queen. I'm so excited" she added, while carefully helping the maid place the freshly made desserts "I don't know her but I already like her".

"Dear..."

"Shush Joon, she is from another country and not only that makes us more powerful but she is so lovely! I also wish you could have gone with me when I went there with my father. The country is so so beautiful!"

"You know I have to stay here, since I'm the royal advisor".

"Nonsense" she moved her hand around, to point it out how absurd it was "There is no war and not immediate trouble. You could have gone with us.

But enough about it, I just wanna meet her."

"And you will, eventually" She smirked at his comment.

"Milady why don't you take a bath before meeting the princess? I'll have the room and the basket ready for you".

"Mmm what do you say Joon?" She whispered mischievously "Want to take a bath with me?"

----

In the privacy of the room, her muffled moans could be heard over the ripple of water.

"Joon" she whined, scratching his wrists to let him know he needed to help her move her hips faster.

His lips were on her chest, on her neck and on her lips, silencing her sounds.

After the maid has taken off her clothes and started bathing her, she had lost confidence that her fiancé was going to show up to take a bath with her. But she had been wrong.

After discovering him looking at her from the doorway, she had smiled lustfully. Her body trembling in anticipation, while he took off his glasses and jacket.

"Darling" she called at her maid "Can you leave us? Joon is going to help me finish the bath".

"Sure milady. Let me know when you want to get dressed".

While the maid left her room, he walked over her and helped her wash the soap away.

"I'm glad you are back" he said.

"Me too love, I've missed you so much. You know I hate going away from here".

He kissed the skin over her heart and she sighed, closing her eyes.

"Join me before the water gets cold. I need you".

Nodding, he leaned back and started stripping himself.

Now, she was on top of him, gasping while she closed her eyes and the pleasure flashed through her body.

"R-Right there! Right there Joon!" She moaned loudly, feeling the orgasm course through her, locking her muscles in place. Hugging her tight, he kept moving until he completed himself inside of her. Having the impression to be in another plane, she felt his lips leave ghost kisses on her face and neck.

"I lied to you" she mumbled, spread on top of him.

"About what?"

"I convinced my father about staying here, because I said I wanted to marry you already"

"Really?"

"Yes. Are you mad?"

"Of course not dear" he tenderly mumbled, as he caressed her back.

"Good. I just thought, why wait? We can just get married now and I won't have to go away ever again.

Smiling, he touched her face delicately and put some of her messy hair behind her ear.

"Nothing will make me happier".

"Great!" she exclaimed excitedly "I'll start with the preparations, you won't have to worry about anything. But first things first, I must know the princess already. I want her to be my maid of honor".

"Honey, you are not a friend of the princess".

"Yet darling, yet".

||||

Hope you like it :)

(And absolutely inspired by Wicked c14 by @adonis-koo )

#au #bts au #bts #kim namjoon #rm #bangtan boys #bangtan sonyeondan #royal #arranged marriage #established relationship #masterlist #drabble #ff #btsfanfic #lifeflowingon

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ohnococo · 4 months

Text

Gratitude | Chapter 2 | Kiyotaka Ijichi x F!Reader

With you settled so close in front of his naked body and touching him so well, it’s a matter of seconds before ijichi’s cock makes itself known, poking at you, and he covers it with his hands and presses it against his stomach. “Sorry, ignore that…” “Kiyotaka, you never have to apologise for getting hard for me.”

Warnings: Explicit Sexual Content, Praise Kink, Thigh Job, Fingering, Cumming Untouched, Dom/Sub Undertones, Subby Ijichi, Moans/Whimpering, Showering Together

CHAPTER 1

Just as it had been your self imposed duty to make Ijichi blush and squirm with the power of your words alone, you decide it’s also your duty to help him understand that he is completely safe with you. You could always see how much he kept under the surface, how much joy was held back under a blanket of anxiety and self-doubt. You so badly wanted to strip all of that back and find out every little thing his heart desires, then give that to him.

He deserves it, and you were intent on helping him realise that. Even if he still seemed shocked that you truly appreciate him, even with all the times you remind him that he’s one of the hardest workers you’ve met, and even now with how many times you’ve cornered him in the halls and stroked him through his trousers til he made a mess of himself. Every compliment and kiss and reassurance does seem to chip away at his lack of confidence, but it’s slow work. It doesn’t help when he seems intent on working himself until he can only fall back under his own blanket of insecurities.

After nearly three weeks of trying to align schedules - and many gentle suggestions that he finally take a break and let himself relax - you’d realised that when it came to matters of self care, Kiyotaka Ijichi needed to be told, not asked. Once you had made yourself much more clear in that regard, it had taken one message to have him complying, a short text telling him that you’d be taking care of him this Sunday, helping him relax at your place. You’d looked forward to it since then, daydreaming of seeing him without thoughts troubling him for once, wondering if it would trickle over into the following week of work…

But with Sunday finally here, inviting him over for the first time quickly left him even more on edge than usual. The start was pleasant enough, with you telling him how handsome he looks in his casual attire of khakis and a grey sweater. You even manage to get him flashing you that sweet bashful smile of his with your praise. Now that he’s settled on your couch, though, the nerves have officially settled in. His whole body is tense, hands cupped around the tea you’d given him as if he were afraid to move them elsewhere. He hardly looks at you, hardly speaks, and eventually you figure that he must be in his head about what might happen tonight, even if you’d never indicated any sort of grandiose plans. So you try to calm his mind.

“Ijichi, you know you’re safe with me, right?”

The flash of guilt in his eyes is too much, and while him worrying over making you think he doesn’t trust you is sweet, it’s not what you were going for with your question. “Of course I do, you’re always so kind to me.”

“Because you deserve it.” Your voice is stern as you say it, driving home the point that it was a fact and not just a platitude. He deserves kindness, and you want him to believe that. You also want him to stop burying himself in his thoughts around you. “Why are you nervous?”

His fingertips tap against his mug as he stares down and into the drink, considering his words. You can tell the thoughts are formed in his mind, but he’s choosing to mince words. When he finally speaks it’s with an awkward lilt, as if he’s attempting to sound casual about it. “I just don’t think I’m going to be good at… you know…”

The way he says it without saying it has your brows raising, it hadn’t quite occurred to you that your dear Kiyotaka might be a virgin, and you file that away to clarify when he was a little less anxious. For now, you focus on the realisation that he’d worked himself up over the assumption that you’d brought him here to fuck, and that he’d now have to perform and perform well. That isn’t actually why you’d called him here, really. If it happened it happened, but when you asked him to spend his day off resting and relaxing with you you’d truly meant it. Now you can only feel like you need to clear the air.

“Kiyotaka, do you think we’re moving too fast?”

“No! Not at all, everything has been… perfect.” The way he says that, lids half closed, blush spreading across his face, has butterflies forming in your stomach. You can see him getting lost in thought for a moment, replaying the rushed encounters of the last several weeks over in his mind.

“I don’t ever want to do anything you don’t want to do. You have your own power here, you know that, right?”

He looks as if that had never occurred to him. You’d suspected as much, with the way he gives himself over to you completely. It was always you initiating, you in control. Not that he hadn’t tried to reciprocate, but you just hadn’t let him yet. You were always focused on making him feel good, showing him he was truly wanted. And now here he is, preparing himself to perform and absolutely nerve wracked over it. It’s not what you want, especially not for today. So you scoot closer to him, putting a hand on his cheek, and your heart swells as he closes his eyes happily and leans into your palm.

“Don’t put pressure on yourself on my behalf. I’ll never ask you to do anything you aren’t fully capable of, okay?” You aren’t sure if it’s your words, or your touch that seems to ease his mind, but you’re satisfied either way as he finally relaxes and nods.

Still, you want to make sure those nerves are gone for good, for tonight at least.

“Let’s take a shower.”

He opens his eyes and looks at you with curiosity, and you’re pleased to find there seems to be much less worry behind his gaze now.

“I want to take care of you tonight.”

You switch the shower on first, letting the water get up to heat as you undress yourself, giving Ijichi something to focus on other than the fact that you were seeing each other naked for the first time. He glances at your body then away once, twice, trying his hardest not to stare outright and you can’t help but chuckle.

“Kiyotaka I’ve had your pretty cock in my throat, don’t be shy about seeing me naked.” Your words earn you a cute little groan from deep in his chest, threatening to bubble up if you keep at it, which you of course will. “Have you imagined what I look like naked before?”

His blush reaches the tips of his ears as he lets out a sheepish laugh, “Yes…”

“Have you touched yourself thinking about it?” You move in close to him, close enough to hear him swallowing thickly as he looks down at your body.

He takes a deep breath, but doesn’t hesitate to answer you honestly with an enthusiastic nod as he slowly takes in every inch of you he can with how little space there is between the two of you now.

“Dirty boy…”

He whines, clenching at the hem of his sweater, sweat prickling at his forehead as the bathroom steams up. You weren’t totally sure if he’d like you calling him that, but you’re pleased to find it has a similar reaction to your more positive teasing.

“So, do you like it?”

“Yes,” his eyes meet yours for the first time since you’d gotten undressed before his glasses fog and his gaze is obscured, “you’re beautiful.”

You reach forward, pulling his glasses off and gently setting them down next to the sink before kissing his cheek. “So are you, Ijichi.”

His face lights up so you kiss him again, staying close enough to put your hands next to his on the hem of his sweater.

“Let’s get your clothes off.” You tug his sweater upwards, and he raises his arms to let you pull it over his head and off. Placing it aside gently, you run your hands up and down his sides, sliding them up the contours of his stomach, over the centre of his chest, drinking in all of the gasps and shivers your touch brings out of him as you take in his lithe body. “You’re so handsome.”

He’s blushing hard enough that he dips his head slightly, as if he could only hold so much blood in his face while you appreciate his body outright. Moving your hands up to his shoulders, you squeeze gently before tracing a path down his arms before taking his hands in yours. “Can I wash your hair?”

He’s surprised by the question, but accepting of any of your attention, “Yes, please.”

Please, as if he’d asked you for it. As if you weren’t excited to watch him squirm and moan just from being pampered. “So polite…”

Whether the noise he lets out is a happy hum or a small moan, you aren’t quite sure. He leans forward to capture your lips, gentle, imploring, as if he were silently asking if he were still allowed to do it before settling back, satisfied that the answer was still yes. You turn him to face the shower, reaching around him from behind to undo his pants, and sliding them down his legs along with his underwear. “After you.”

He steps out of the last of his clothes and into the shower as you move the pants aside to sit alongside his sweater. When you turn back to him you find him standing in wait, just out of the reach of the spray of the shower head, trying his very best to keep taking in your appearance through his glassesless haze. You join him, cupping his cheeks in both hands, and your touch has him back in that relaxed state immediately.

“You’ll have plenty of time to look at me properly later. Now, tilt your head back.”

He does as he’s told, closing his eyes, and sighs as you run your fingers through his hair under the spray of the water. Once it’s thoroughly wet, you pull away for just a moment to squirt a small amount of shampoo into your palm, rubbing your hands together before running them back through Ijichi’s hair. He shivers at the returned touch, and once you start massaging circles into his scalp he lets a small whimper out, rolling straight from deep within his chest and meeting the air as a high pitched noise, rattled slightly by the soft sway of his head back and forth with your firm but gentle movements.

“Sorry, ignore that…”

“Kiyotaka, you never have to apologise for getting hard for me.”

He sighs out a happy little ‘oh,’ shut eyes crinkling as he smiles. He leans forward, blindly poking out his lips and you give him a kiss before gently pushing him back under the water to rinse the suds from his hair. He keeps one hand cradled on his cock, not quite hiding it anymore, but not letting it bob against you as it would if left unhindered. Even so, you see it twitching as you work the pads of your fingers in to clean him thoroughly, and he coos when you run your fingers down and over the fine hairs where his hairline meets the back of his neck. You spend a little longer than strictly necessary rinsing his hair, taking in the little sighs and moans from your touch, looking down every so often to see the little beads of precum dripping down the head of his cock and onto the hand that was keeping it loosely shielded from you.

When you finally pull your hands away his mouth forms a small frown at the loss of contact. As he stands there, eyes closed and pouting as he waits for you to do whatever your heart desires with him, you decide you’ve waited long enough to have your sweet touch-starved Kiyotaka cumming for you.

“Conditioner next, but first…” you grab your conditioner, squeezing out a dollop into your palm before you push his hand aside, pumping his cock gently a few times and coating it before sliding it between your thighs. The sudden touch, followed by the plush warmth of your skin has him gasping. “You can thrust.”

“Oh… Th-thank you…” he’s quick to get to work, pushing forward until his stomach is pressed to yours and his cock is fully nestled between your thighs before pulling back again.

He moves slowly, pacing himself as you squeeze more conditioner directly into his hair, unable to do so with much finesse with how closely your bodies were together now. He grips your hips gently as his movements are quick to pick up pace and you start at massaging his scalp once more, as focused on your task as he was on his. You make a path of small circles from hairline to crown, then down towards his neck and back up towards his temples. It has him shivering, hips bucking out of pace as he groans at the feel of your skin. His face is cute, especially with his eyes still shut so he’s unaware that you were looking at him so intently, watching his brows form a cute upward slope in the centre from the way they were knit, and his soft mouth hangs open and slack and keeping any of his noises from being withheld. He’s perfectly lost in the feel of your hands and the feel of your thighs and with every throb of his cock his hands grip your hips just that little bit tighter, not enough to hurt but enough that you know he’d be apologising for it if he weren’t so far gone.

You tilt his head back under the water, rinsing the conditioner out and raking your fingers across his scalp as you do. He’s sputtering the water dripping down his face, huffing and whining, and humping into you desperately. Once you’re sure his hair is thoroughly rinsed you tilt his head down and whisper into his ear, “Now cum for me.”

His compliance is immediate, as his hips stutter and he lets out a long broken whine, spilling his heat between your thighs in waves.

He buries his head in the crook of your neck, letting out little whimpers as he continues thrusting until he’s just on the verge of overstimulation. Once he stops, he rubs his nose gently against you and lets his shivers run from his head to the tip of his toes as you run your fingertips up and down his back.

“Good boy.”

He squeezes at your hips and hums happily in response while his softening cock twitches with interest at the praise, but spent as he is he pulls his hips back, separating himself from you. “Can I clean you up?”

“Of course.”

It’s your turn to be pampered now, a task Ijichi performs with great care as he switches your places and moves you under the warm water. He runs his hands over your thighs, splashing water over them and rinsing any cum from your skin carefully. He’s thorough in his work, and you bend forward slightly, bracing your hands on the shower wall, arching your back, and sticking your ass out. Kiyotaka bites at his lips, stifling a horny little whine to maintain some semblance of decency despite everything, but you know you must already be well cleaned by now even as he continues rubbing and squeezing at your thighs. Every so often his movements trail up higher and his hand hovers near your pussy, trembling slightly before he moves away again, cupping his hands under the stream of water and splashing down your legs.

You let him continue this back and forth, curious as to when he’d give in to his need to touch you. Eventually it seems that your dear Kiyotaka is much more patient (or rather hesitant) than you are, and you give him a little push once his hand hovers near you once again.

“You can touch me.”

This time, he’s much slower to get started, swallowing hard and licking his lips. When he does finally touch you he’s gentle, petting your pussy tenderly, pressing at you and taking in the soft puffiness of your lips. He’s teasing you, really, even if he’s completely unaware of it. Looking at him over your shoulder, you can tell by the dazed look in his eyes that he has no clue how long he’s been doing this, every so often pressing that little bit harder as he strokes you so his soft fingertips graze your folds.

When he finally brushes past your clit you let out a moan, and it’s as if it snaps him back to reality. His pensive, exploratory touches make way for much more focused movements against your clit as he strokes his finger over it again, watching your face and taking in your expressions. His touch slowly gets firmer, with each movement past your clit, through your wetness, brushing over your entrance, as he watches for your every signal of pleasure - ready to go as firmly as need be, ready to stop the moment it’s too much. The only thing that was too much was how gradually he was working you up, and when you swirl your hips gently he understands immediately, refocusing his touch to rub soft circles against your clit.

The moan you let out at finally having the touch you need is matched, and almost out done by his own, followed by a whimper as he bites his lip to try not to miss any noises he can pull from you. As he finds a pace you don’t spare him any little sigh or moan he stirs up, enjoying his reactions as much as you were enjoying the feel of his movements. When he reaches a pressure that really starts to scratch the itch he’d built you have to let him know outright.

“Just like that, it feels good.” Knowing in no uncertain terms that he was making you feel good throws him off for just a moment, but he’s back on track almost immediately. “Yes, you’re doing so well, Kiyotaka.”

That earns another moan from him, louder than any of yours so far, and the concentration on his face has even more fluttering picking up in your stomach than his hands do and leaves your pussy clenching. When you mutter a soft ‘fuck’ under your breath it has him feeling confident, brave even. He reaches his other hand in front of you, taking over his work on your clit as his other finger slides back to rub at your entrance. His brows knit and he pouts as if he’s begging, as if you’d tell him no when he was making you feel so good.

“Can I?”

“Can you what?” You know what he means, but you won’t let him be so shy when he’s desperate to fuck you with his fingers.

He doesn’t mince words, and you’re pleased that he’s learning so quickly, “Can I slide my fingers in?”

It’s not as filthy as if you’d told him what to say, but you appreciate it nonetheless, nodding. He presses in slowly, and from the way he moans at the feel of your pussy you’d have thought it was his cock slipping inside of you. As he pushes deeper his lashes flutter and he whines at the feel of you sucking him in. His eyes actually roll back for a moment when he pulls his finger back and your walls grip at his knuckles ever so slightly and the soft chuckle that draws from you has your pussy clenching and him moaning.

“Oh my god…” He pumps his finger in and out a few times, bringing a second finger up just to your entrance as well before stopping, and looking to you for permission. You nod, and as your pussy grips the second digit just as tightly he can only repeat his previous sentiment in even more shaky tones, “Oh my god…”

He rubs around inside of you, flexing his fingers and feeling your slick warmth. He’s back to being unfocused, exploring, hand on your clit only sloppily moving from side to side every now again as he takes in how you feel. Lithe fingers press at your walls as his fingers slide around, and the drag of his knuckles as he slides out a little has you groaning as he finds his way around your body until he reaches the spot he’d been in search of and your thighs clench a little as you rock your hips into his movements.

“Is that right?” He knows what he’s doing, more than it had initially seemed, but he’s still hungry for the praise even as he resumes his steady circles on your clit to accompany his newly found pace inside your pussy.

“Yes, that’s it.”

He does much of the same as he fingers your pussy, slowly building his pace, until you’re nodding and moaning and arching into his touch in a way that has him choking back a gasp at what his blurred vision can make out of you.

“You’re going to make me cum like that, Kiyo…”

His breaths are as ragged as yours, and when he leans forward to press soft kisses to your shoulder, even as he is careful to keep his perfectly set pace, it sends you over the edge. The building waves of pleasure give way inside of you and you clench at his fingers hard, though not enough to stop him working you thoroughly over and past the precipice. He keeps going even when the waves slow and break, your body relaxing as you whisper a small request that he slow down before it’s too much.

You’re surprised when it goes unanswered, lifting your head to look at your sweet Kiyotaka and finding his eyes glazed, lidded, and as you say his name to bring him back to earth before he pushes you into overstimulation he is very suddenly cumming, untouched. You watch as he lets out a long whine and his cock throbs and pushes out thin, watery ropes of cum right onto your leg and he presses his face to your shoulder - movements finally halting as he whimpers out the last of his own orgasm on the heels of yours.

You give him his moment to recover, just as you take yours, kissing the top of his head and panting in tandem with him, before he’s sitting up and blushing so hard the tips of his ears are even more red than they had been earlier as he realises he’s made another mess.

”Oh God, let me clean you up… again…”

CHAPTER 3

#my writing #jjk fanfic #jjk smut #ijichi kiyotaka #kiyotaka ijichi #ijichi #reader insert #self insert #ijichi x reader #kiyotaka ijichi x reader #ijichi x you #ijichi x y/n

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