#this shit is practically professionally dubbed

[marigoldenblooms]

An Important Lesson - One-Shot

Pairing: Professor!Wanda x Fem!Reader (MINORS DNI - 18+)

Prompt: After years of rigorous study, you were nearing the end of your graduate program. Companionship had become a figment of your imagination, until your film professor caught your eye. Taking something from her desk, you hope you could catch hers- and you got more than you bargained for.

MINORS DNI - 18+

Tags: Who is Y/N I don’t know her, Dom!Wanda, Sub!Reader, Porn with plot, teasing, orgasm denial, vibrator use, thigh riding, Mommy kink, Professor kink (sparingly), no aftercare, slight dub-con, dumbification, praise, dom/sub dynamics, power imbalance (professor/student), age gap (Reader is 26 while Wanda is 34), brat taming if you squint. 

A/N: Holy balls, I did not realize smut was so hard to write. Major kudos to all who seem to do it so effortlessly! I know I envy ‘em. This is my first foray into writing this kind of fic (my university’s spring break has brought a lot of writing firsts), so if you have any feedback I’d love to hear it! This is also vaguely proofread! Wanted to do some practice before the evental sex in Unica Sempter Avis (Because USA is certainly an Abbreviation of All Time), and other ideas I’ve got cooking up. I'd love to write another part to this, if y'all would be down! Thanks y'all again!  Edit: An Important Lesson is getting a second part! Read a teaser here! >:)

Word Count: 2.5k - Read length: 9 minutes, 5 seconds.  Pictures aren't mine, credit to their owners! ~~~ 

The pen hadn’t been worth stealing, and yet here you were. 

Professor Maximoff’s classroom was overwhelmingly quiet, dark and empty with familiar rows of tables curved in a half arc around her desk, pushed off to the side. She’d always pace within the front few rows where you sat, and you’d have to crane your neck to keep her in view when you weren’t scribbling down paraphrases of what she said. She taught Advanced Film and Media Critique, which generally lended itself to analyzing the shit out of old TV shows. Maximoff was a difficult professor, but you weren’t looking for easy, especially in your graduate program. After a few years of working your ass off to make enough money, you’d wiped the floor with your bachelors and now you were vying for your masters, in your last few weeks of grad school. And you knew Professor Maximoff liked you, which didn’t make it so bad. 

You knew other things about her too - for instance, there was no way she wasn’t a lesbian. Whenever you’d raise your hand her eyes would snap to you, and you swear her face would curl into a smile that was beyond professional. You’d catch her staring in your direction during exams on multiple occasions (to be fair you did the same when she wasn’t looking, but that’s besides the point), and you swear up and down that she winked at you during your midterm. She’d hold onto your hand a little too long when you turned in papers, and always offered ‘tutoring’ sessions which you humbly declined in the beginning of the semester, your grade being nigh perfect in her course. Between that, the short nails, tailored suits, and the rings- oh, so many rings- there was no way your professor wasn’t gay, and possibly had the hots for you. Your studies had been your priority over companionship for so long,  And now, within a few weeks of your final, why not make a move?

Heist films had been the topic of last week’s lecture, and so nicking something small would be a good segway, right? You’d return it to her tomorrow after class, mention something flirty (perhaps about stealing her heart), and see where it went. If you were lucky, you’d have her number by the end of the course, and perhaps take the older woman to coffee after your final exam. You’d bring her to the movies, but that might turn into more of a lesson than a date. 

As you’d pluck a pen from one of her desk drawers, you notice that it was slightly heavier than most. You clicked it once, then a second time- and nothing happened, so it went into your pockets. You’d move to exit the dim room, before a plaque caught your eye- her degree. It was neatly pressed into its frame: Wanda Maximoff, Masters of Arts in Film and Media Studies. You remembered her mentioning she was working on her doctorate, a proud grin sparking at that. Perhaps you’d get to know more about her dissertation and herself shortly. ------------------------------------------

Class went by faster than most, although it didn’t help that you were anxiously awaiting the end of Professor Maximoff’s lecture. She had worn a trim fitted sleeveless blouse and buttoned pants, both beautiful shades of burgundy. A myriad of gold rings decorating her hands as she’d motion with them through her talk. You’d have to keep your eyes off her fingers, nose deep in notebooks as you’d scramble to collect her words before your incoming final exam. 

“And what is the significance of I Love Lucy’s laugh tracks?” Wanda would ponder aloud before your hand immediately shot up, the lone attempt out of your fifty or so classmates. She’d grin at you, “Yes, dear?” 

You almost forget what you were about to say, holding onto the vestiges of it as you’d sputter, “Oh, uhm- yes, well, I Love Lucy didn’t have laugh tracks, mostly- they were the first sitcom to have a live studio audience.” Her eyes would crinkle with mirth, and you could tell immediately that you had the right answer. You tuned out her words as your mind would swim, thinking back to the weighted pen in your jeans pocket. The pet names were new, settling a joyous fuzz both in your mind and between your legs. It was things like this that had you on the back foot- this was your chance to get her back.

------------------------------------------

“And I’ll see you all in two days,” Wanda would return to her desk, sitting atop it rather than in the chair behind it. One of your classmates had asked why in an icebreaker towards the beginning of the semester, and if you remembered correctly she said ‘Just like the view from up here,’ or the like. If you’d been on the same track mind as now, you probably would have noticed how she stared at you during her spiel, a detail only discovered in hindsight. Now, you had all the pieces. 

You pack up slowly, shimmying your belongings into your overly stuffed bag. Hanging back until there were few students left, you flag her gaze with a hand and an upturned smile, “Professor, I was wondering if I could..” Your words would halt in your throat, thoughts thickened and syrupy as she’d look down to you, head tilted a degree off kilter. Would it be embarrassing to admit you’d never been this close to her before? Her lips would be pursed, but would break into a wild grin, and you felt yourself melt right there. You weren’t a teen anymore goddamnit, focus- “Talk-” you’d squeak, clearing your throat hastily to camouflage the blunder, “Talk with you, after class. Professor.”

Her brows would raise, and you could almost see the cogs rotating in there. Her eyes would dart within the now-empty room, adjusting her position on the desk- and it’d become increasingly obvious (you can deny it no longer) that you were standing directly in between her slightly parted legs. This wasn’t how you were expecting it to go, but here you were. She’d start taking off her rings. “Of course, darling,” she’d tease again with a roughened lilt. Those damn pet names. “What do you need?”

“I think I have something of yours, Professor-” Your mouth would open a few seconds before you’d speak, and you swear she’d smirk at how she had you, devoid of any thought. Something about her had you smiling and kicking your feet, and boy did she know it. Without any further bravado, you’d pull out the pen, “I hate to say it, but I think you’ve stolen-”

“Oh,” She’d breathe, Wanda’s face tinting with a pinkish hue, yet her smile only grew larger. Her gaze would narrow, voice dripping with a sultry air that almost knocked you off balance, “I didn’t let you borrow that, did I?”

“No Professor,” you admit, beginning to launch into your story, before she’d shush you- shush you, words piling up into a lump in your throat. 

“And do you know what it does, darling?” She asks, her tone a breathy whisper now. You swallow, shaking your head no. She fucking giggles. She takes the pen from your hand, clicking it three times, and it’d start to buzz. Oh, my god. It was a fucking vibrator.

“Too dumb to even recognize what this is? And I thought you were so smart..” She’d tease, a flush forming on your face in tandem with a shiver down your body. You open your mouth to speak, and yet her warm, calloused fingers would clasp your jaw shut. “Shhh, don’t want your pretty little head to even think, darling. How about Mommy show you how it works, hm?” 

You’d nod immediately. She’d abandon the toy, clicking it off as her hands would slip beneath your shirt, and it felt like time had frozen. She was so soft, and your mind glazed over. Your breath hitched as she’d trail upward, palming your skin before running her fingers over your bare breasts. You’d watch as Wanda’s pupils would blow in seconds, a devious smile bubbling into view, “No bra?” She’d murmur lowly shaking her head as she’d start to knead your flesh, “Just couldn’t remember it, hm? My precious student, too busy thinking of me to get dressed, were you?” You nod again, a pitiful mewl escaping your throat. 

“Yes- Yes, Professor..” You arch into her touch, although that bliss was short-lived as you feel her dig her hands further into your tits, sharper than you’d like. She’d tsk at your reply, and you look up to meet her eyes- oh, that was the wrong answer. 

“Did you already forget my title, baby?” She’d ask almost tauntingly, her gaze sharpening as she’d shift her hands from your skin. You’d chase her warmth, dazed as your skin would flush and tremble, slotting yourself up against her. She’d run her thumb over your lips, crooning at your immediate submission. She could use that. 

“It seems Mommy has a lot to teach you, dear..” Her touch would ghost across your exposed forearms, her feather-light touches only stuttering your breath further. “And I think you’re ready for your first lesson. Think you can handle that, darling? Keep your eyes on me,” Her hands would dig into your jeans, rougher against the hem’s fabric, “Think you can take this off for Mommy?”

“Please..” You beg, raising your hips to strip yourself bare, your glance trained on her. You don’t miss how her eyes darted down to your bare cunt, having slid off your panties too, or how she licked her lips at the sight of your slick. Her hands would hold your legs open, the cold lecture hall’s air chilling your exposed skin. Still staring at Wanda, you’d discard your shirt in the same breath, her jaw clenching as all of you felt the cool air. Feeling exposed, the urge to flee ebbed away some of your arousal. Were you really about to fuck your professor in her own classroom? Your focus was immediately drawn again as she’d capture your chin in her hand, pulling it harshly to meet her gaze. Her eyes were dilated, a thin sheen of sweat on her brow as she’d pant, both from your disobedience and your thighs rubbing against hers. “Look at me,” she’d hiss, taking your lips into a searing kiss. Your answer? Fuck. Yes.

Your cunt would grind against her leg as Wanda would pull your hips up and onto her thigh, grip bruising as your lips would crash together. You could smell her vanilla perfume as she’d tug at your bottom lip with her teeth, a familiar buzzing sound heard but not registered before you felt it on your clit. “Mommy- yes, Fuckin’ christ, there-” You’d keen, lurching back as Wanda’s hand would rest on your hip, keeping you from escaping her touch.

Wanda would groan at your words, voice a little breathier as her hips would stutter against yours, “There’s my good girl..” Teasingly, she’d circle your clit with the pen-shaped toy, gasping herself as she’d feel the aftershocks of its pulse on her clothed cunt. “Taking Mommy’s toy so well..such a sweet girl for your Professor-” 

You’d rock your hips against her, the friction from her dress slacks and the vibrator’s pulse bringing you to the edge embarrassingly quick. Wanda wouldn’t notice your frenzied breathing or how you lost your rhythm, but she would hear your words; drawn between husky whines, “Mommy, please, I’m so close, fuck-” Your face would flush, legs beginning to tremble before the whole feeling was ripped away from you, Wanda’s grip leaving as the buzz would click off. With shaky breaths, your eyes would rise to meet hers- only to see a teasing grin. She’d pat your arms, gently coaxing you off of her thigh, the few sparks of friction from that not enough to bring you anywhere close to your release. You’d blink, thoughts thickened and reeling, brow furrowed ever so slightly for her- and Wanda loved it. 

“You did so well for your first lesson, dear..” She’d croon, brushing herself off as she’d rise to her feet, leaving you on her cluttered desk. “But, Professor, I didn’t-” You’d begin and she’d silence you right there, hand rising to close your jaw shut again. 

“And you won’t come unless you call me by my title, darling. You’ve received your correction for your first mistake- and for stealing from me,” You nodded slowly, absorbing her words as though they were molasses, and her smile only widened at how dazed she’d made you. “And if you disobey again when you’re with me, alone- then I’ll lower your grade by five points. Understand?” 

If you were in any kind of fog before, you cleared it from your thoughts immediately. “Yes, very clear- uhm,” You pause, noticing the stain on her pant leg where your pussy had ground into the fabric, and you feel your face warm. Wanda would shift her stance and you’d look up- she leaned above you, a single brow raised. You’d swallow, keeping your eyes on her completely, “Yes, Mommy- I understand.”

“Good girl.” That was the right answer. She’d smile at you, her praise going straight to your cunt. Could she not have given you a few more seconds? Maybe you could’ve gotten off without her noticing. She’d interrupt your mind with a quick peck on the lips, and you felt your wits slow, swimming with thoughts of her mouth. Oh, that was why- couldn’t get away with anything if you didn’t think anything at all. Wanda’s grin would only intensify as she’d watch you dress, clothing rumpled from the haste it had been taken off. After a few minutes, you were back to prim and proper..besides your racing heart and flush whenever Wanda so much as moved. “This was great..” You’d murmur, pressing the wrinkles from your shirt, gaze flicking back up to Wanda’s- your professor still watching you with a smooth, secretive smirk. 

“Of course it was, dear..but it’s still nice to hear you say that. Anything for my best student,” She’d wink at you and you’d fold, feeling your palms clam up. Since when were you this weak in the knees? She’d settle at her desk again, her hands clasped together on its wooden grain. You’d be taller than her now, with her sitting down- and yet there was an aura she commanded that you couldn’t outdo. You turn to leave without any further fanfare but her voice would seize you again, just as warm as her touch. “I’ll be expecting you after tomorrow’s classes, then? I think some…after-hours remedial work for my course would do you well.” 

Were you really about to fuck your professor in her own classroom, again? You’d leave her hall with a bright smile, a reply, and a secret. Your answer? The same as before - Fuck. Yes. 

And your secret?

You’d stolen the ‘pen’ again.

[shawnxstyles]

please, call me peter

DATE: JANUARY 6, 2023

summary: you haven’t been able to come with anyone besides yourself, making you think something’s wrong with you. once you go to the gynecologist, dr. parker shows you that you’re just fine.

request: yes yes

words: 3.4k

warnings: SMUT (f- receiving [fingering], dub-con, small praise kink, dirty talking), and a cute ending.

note: shooting out requests like webs. sorry that was lame. if this makes you uncomfortable, do not read.

gynecologist!peter x female!reader

—

Your eyes scan the white room while you sit impatiently. Your heart lightly thuds in your chest and your fingers drum rapidly along your clothed thigh. The nurse had asked if you wanted to change into a hospital gown, which you politely denied. She gave you an indifferent expression before walking out, leaving you here.

You were at the gynecologist for one concerning reason; every time you had sex, you couldn’t come. Your previous relationship ended because you were unable to reach that euphoric high, which you believed was a ridiculous reason to leave someone. You weren’t as sad as you thought you’d be because you were too concerned with your own well-being to dwell on some bloke.

Before heading to the doctor, you had a quick hook-up, assuming that you and your ex just weren’t sexually compatible. But then you were proved wrong when you didn’t come. Again. You weren’t really the hook-up type, in fear of catching some unwanted disease or infection. Finally, you took matters into your own hands, literally, and masturbated with your fingers until you orgasmed all over your bed sheets.

See? It wasn’t impossible.

Then why couldn’t you come with other people? It had to be your fault. It had to be.

So, again, you were left here in the small hospital room sitting between empty stirrups with your ankles tightly crossed. The widening of the wooden door alerted you, your eyes shooting towards the man entering the room.

A guy? Your gynecologist was a guy?

You knew you were a decently healthy person because you were always on track with your appointments, even small check-ups. Because of your good wellness, you had never needed to go to the gyno. Until now, which seemed a bit nerve-racking all of a sudden.

The second the doctor turned around, you knew exactly why.

Warm, brown eyes peer at you with tenderness. Chestnut curls rest upon his head a little messily, but in the cutest way. He wore a professional lab coat over his casual clothing. His ribbed shirt and blue jeans seemed to match him perfectly. His cheeks appear a tinge pink when he smiles, welcoming and greeting you.

Oh shit.

“I’m Dr. Parker, and you are?” Dr. Parker asks as he plops onto his spinny chair. His eyes stare deeply into yours, causing your heart to race more than you’d like to admit. His voice was as attractive as his face, and you tried to convince yourself that he had to have at least one bad quality that you just haven’t seen yet, so you didn’t soak your panties.

“Y/N,” You blink to wash away the feeling of your nerves as your palms get clammy. “but you probably knew that already.”

“That is true, but I like for my patients to introduce themselves to me directly,” He states simply and you nod in response. Your sweaty hands interlocked over your thighs to ease yourself.

“So, what brings you in here today, Y/N?” Dr. Parker questions with a lick of his lips. He can’t help himself when his eyes drift nonchalantly, but quickly down your body. You were beautiful, which made it hard to concentrate on anything else, especially when you started talking. Your voice was silky, and he wanted to ask you more questions just so he could hear it more.

“I…” You were a bit embarrassed to share your reasoning. Was it common? Will he laugh at you? No, of course not, he’s a doctor! You battled with yourself in your head before spitting it out. “I can’t come during sex.”

Your jaw clenched as your hand practically hit your forehead in embarrassment. You couldn’t look at him because he was probably holding back a laugh. But you also couldn’t look at him because he was so handsome you might melt.

True be told, Peter already knew why you were here. He read the small report the nurse got before he entered. It was part of protocol and he wanted to hear you describe it yourself.

“That’s okay, darling. Nothing to be ashamed of,” He reassures gently as you remove your hand from your face. He smiles sincerely and you smile bashfully back. The nickname erupts butterflies in your stomach, and you can’t disregard the small wetness you feel trickle in your underwear.

When he asks, you go on to explain your situation in detail, even including the part about your ex-boyfriend dumping you. When Peter hears this, his jaw subtly clenches as irritation spreads through him.

Who breaks up with someone for that? He wanted to ask, but knew that was probably inappropriate. He does need to question you professionally though to ensure there’s nothing wrong. However, he thinks he already knows the answer.

“I’m going to ask you some questions that get pretty personal,” Parker faces his notes with you in the corner of his eye. You nod as your nervousness never fades and your heart beat remains quite fast.

Most of his questions were simple and straightforward, so you weren’t too ashamed to answer.

“Do you have any pain?”

“No.”

“Are you on birth control?”

“Yes.”

“How long?”

“Two years,” You eyes strayed away from him, thumbs twiddling in your lap like an anxious child. He wonders how you got birth control without going to the gynecologist in the past, seeming as though you’ve had no history.

However, some questions made the heat rise to your cheeks. Your arousal worsened the more Dr. Parker spoke, his voice warm and soothing like honey.

“To clarify, you have orgasmed before, correct?” Peter was able to focus when his eyes were glued to his papers, but one glance at your adorable shyness and his cock was semi-hard in his boxers.

“Yes, I-I did it myself,” You hissed at yourself for stuttering. He made you so starstruck it was hard to form words. You didn’t meet many people like that in your life— now that you think of it, none at all. He surveys you for a moment you think was a little too long, and you tighten your ankles together at his burning gaze.

“Um,” He grunts, covering it up with a cough as his cheeks turn pink a tad more. Your lip subtly curls into a smile at his cuteness. Peter was nervous for the first time in a while, fingers shaking as he scribbled notes about you. He felt as silly as a child who had a crush on a classmate. “you seem very well.”

“So nothing’s wrong?” Your eyebrows crinkle in confusion, a lost expression cascading over your face when you feel like you’ve hit a dead end. You gaze at the floor, trying to understand.

“Not directly,” He says to reassure you. Your eyes meet his with a head tilt. Now, you were really confused.

“What do I do then?”

“Don’t have sex with idiots,” He grumbles, honestly hoping you didn’t hear it. But of course you did. Your heart rate quickens wildly in your chest at his blunt statement. “but to make sure, I’m going to check you, okay?”

Your eyes widen for a moment, not thinking you would have to be checked. Your thoughts immediately shoot to your soaked panties and how he’ll see your very visual arousal. Hopefully, he assumes it’s from nerves.

“Would you like to change into something more comfortable and accessible?” He asks, looking at your shirt with jean shorts. He checks most of his patients, so usually they would have been in a gown already. But at this hospital, the patient didn’t have to change, even though it was highly recommended. However, when they rarely denied the new wardrobe, the doctor had to undress the patient themselves. So far in Peter’s career, he’s only had to do that with incidents that were an emergency.

“No, thank you,” You answered with no explanation. Secretly, you hated the material of the gown and you swore it gave you rashes. Maybe you were allergic?

Dr. Parker nods once and turns to his little side table beside you. He slips on his blue gloves and tells you exactly what he’s going to do, so you’re not unprepared.

“And since you’re not in a gown, the protocol is that I must undress you myself,” Peter feels the burning red flame up his cheeks at his statement. Your eyes widen again at the image of the sensual action, but nod in understanding.

Who made that rule? You wanted to ask, but it seemed disrespectful. You honestly couldn’t tell if you loved or hated the person that invented that idea. Picturing Dr. Parker strip you only made a pool in your panties.

Peter’s gloved fingers unbutton and zip down your jean shorts with your permission. It was slow and steady, unlike your heart that was bouncing off the walls of your ribs. You know he could see your heavy breathing as your stomach rose up and down too quickly under the thin material of your shirt.

Your shorts were removed and then he was on to your underwear.

Peter’s cock pulsed in his jeans at the wet patch on your panties, his red blush never fading. He wanted to press the pad of his thumb against your throbbing clit. He would rub you over the flimsy fabric and then make you moan for him as he fucked you roughly with his fingers. He could assume that you were tight and tense because of your struggle to orgasm with another person, but the thought only made his cock twitch needily as he imagined you squeezing around him.

“Are you okay so far? And can I remove these?” He asks for consent and patiently waits. You nod, but he’s not having that. “Words, Y/N. I need you to say it.”

His demand caused you to clench around nothing as you stutter out a trembling yes, so he can proceed. Peter delicately removes your panties, sliding them down your supple legs and placing them with your shorts. You didn’t open your legs, but you knew he’d already seen the wetness leaking out of you.

“Okay, um,” His professionalism was fading from him. He wanted to devour you because you probably tasted amazing. The smell of your arousal filled his nostrils, making it hard to focus on anything. “Put your legs on these stirrups. I’ll help you.”

He guides your legs into the holders, strongly resisting the urge to gawk at your vulnerable area. Once you were settled, he looked down and nearly came right there. Arousal drowned your folds as your puffy clit poked out behind it all. He noticed the fluttering of your folds as the cold air hit your wetness. He wouldn’t need to use any lube on you for sure. Peter was losing his cool and was about to lose everything if he did not pull himself together.

“I’m about to start. Are you okay?” He could sense your nervousness from a mile away. He wanted to make sure you were okay, even if you’ve had sex multiple times before.

“Yes, doctor,” You reassure and his jaw subtly locks at his label leaving from your mouth. He avoids picturing his falling from your pretty lips, so he could focus on the task at hand. You didn’t notice, too caught up in your own thoughts of his fingers entering you. You wanted him to pound them into you mercilessly because you know he’d know all the right spots and special places to hit. You can imagine he’s soft and caring, and always gives immense pleasure to the woman.

You almost gasp aloud when you come to a realization; he probably has a girlfriend. Or a wife. A wife and kids. You don’t remember seeing a ring, but that doesn’t mean anything. Oh, God, you were daydreaming sexual thoughts about your gynecologist who would probably freak out if he could hear them.

“If it makes you more comfortable, my name is Peter. Sometimes that small detail helps the patients relax more,” He noticed your sudden panicked state and high tension in your legs, wanting to calm you down, so it doesn’t hurt. It was perfectly fine to be nervous, but it wasn’t fine for him to be this nervous. He’s a professional doctor, yet he’s thinking about ruining it all just to please you at this moment.

You feel the latex gloves graze your folds, making your heart jump up into your throat. Peter’s middle finger practically teases your entrance, and you hold back pathetic whimpers. Once he slips his middle finger inside, you release a shuddery moan. His finger stills, deep inside of you while he gives you a second to adjust.

“Relax for me,” You try not to clench around him, but you’re a lost cause when he begins to wiggle it around the tight space. Peter is struggling. His cock is about to burst at the seams while his middle finger sinks far inside you. Your clenching walls and hushed noises nearly make him moan. He sees you resisting the urge to moan and it’s killing him because he wants to hear you.

“You can moan,” Peter says, voice low and sultry. “It’s welcomed.” He curls his finger and slowly pushes in and out. You don’t hold back your moan this time as lust begins to fill your vision. It feels too good, even though you know it’s wrong. You feel yourself getting wetter and wetter at his skilled finger and his concentrated expression.

Peter is positive you’re enjoying this. He can’t resist you anymore when he has you spread open for him. Plus, he found nothing peculiar inside, you seemed healthy. He could stop now if he’d like, but the contraction of your pussy walls around his finger and the sweet whimpers you’re eliciting spur him to continue.

“How does this feel, Y/N?” Peter’s voice was gravelly and lustful; you were sure to catch on by now. His question was borderline professional, yet inappropriate. At this point, Peter couldn’t care less because your face said it all.

“Good, really good,” You admitted with fluttering eyes as your hands gripped the sides of your shirt. Your name out of his mouth made you melt into his touch as you instinctively grinded your hips into his hand.

“What about this?” His ring finger slides in effortlessly, and they both curl inside you. You gasp, eliciting another shaky moan. His digits were thick and just the right length to satisfy you without even needing his cock, even though you wanted it. “God, you’re so tight. Imagine what you’d feel like around my cock.” He grumbles.

You gasp at his sudden profound language, but the dirtiness only made you more aroused. Your brain imagined how his cock would look buried so deep inside of you that you’d feel him in your stomach. You imagine this pre-cum leaking from his tip as he pulls out of you just to slam back in. Your core tensed at the thought.

“I didn’t hear you, Y/N,” He grunts gravelly, slowing his movements. He slips his fingers out, removing the glove swiftly. You whine at the emptiness, answering him. He was so sweet, yet dirty, and you loved it.

“So good! It feels so good, please don’t stop,” You plead and he smirks in satisfaction as he continues. His thumb rolls over your puffy clit, making your hips press into his hand as he slips back in. Your thighs contracted as they begged to close, but the locked stirrups blocked you from doing so.

“Who’s making you feel this good?” His tone was smooth and clear, almost contradicting his sinful actions. His pace becomes brutal, ramming in and out of you with no mercy. The rough texture of his bare hand sends a shiver up your spine as your orgasm nears.

“You! You, Peter,” Your chest heaves as choked moans leave your lips. His digits rub your throbbing nerves as his fingers glide against your walls addictingly good. Your fingernails dig into the soft flesh of your trembling thighs. His lips raise in another smirk as his cheeks flush that familiar pink. “I’m close, Peter,” You whimper, causing him to hiss at the harsh pulsing of his shaft when his name falls delicately from your lips just how he imagined.

“I know, honey. Can feel you clenching around me,” He groans when you release another noise of pleasure. His eyes wander down to your aching cunt as his fingers become drenched in your juices. You’re squeezing him torturously, on the edge of your break.

“Are you gonna come? Gonna come for me?”

Without another moment, your orgasm ripples through your body with a blissful wail. Clenched muscles and screwed eyes don’t even express the full ecstasy you feel. White liquid saturates Peter’s bare fingers before he licks them clean. It wasn’t the most sanitary, but he didn’t give one fuck.

Your face screams fucked out; perspired skin, droopy eyes, and a weary smile. In his ideal situation, he would have devoured you until you couldn’t take it anymore. But that was for another time. If there ever was another time, which he hoped there would be.

Just maybe not in a hospital.

“Well, Y/N, it seems like you are very healthy,” Peter grins, taking the tissues to clean you thoroughly. You can feel the heat radiating from your cheeks at his joking comment.

“Thanks, doctor,” Your voice came out a bit squeaky while your heart continued to stammer in your chest.

“After that, I think you should call me Peter,” He chuckles, sliding away in his stool to discard the tissues. Heat burns your skin from his adorable laugh.

“Peter it is then,” He helps you down the stirrups and you begin to get dressed with a goofy smile curling on your face. Peter doesn’t fail to notice this as his thoughts begin to wander. He knows he just met you, but he wants to see where this goes. He is confident that you’re interested in him (at least enough for him to finger you), so maybe asking you out isn’t the crazy idea he’s ever had.

“Y/N?” Suddenly, he didn’t feel so confident.

“Yeah?” Your response was breathless.

“Would you, um,” Peter hesitated to find the words. He really was like a little kid talking to his crush for the first time. “like to go out sometime? Maybe?”

You admire his bashfulness. He anxiously rolls up his coat sleeves while his face displaces a rosy blush. His brown eyes twinkled with hope as he waited for a reply.

“I would like that, doctor,” You smile genuinely and sweetly, your joyful energy calming his pent-up nerves. “I mean Peter.” You giggle when he blushes.

“Okay, okay, this is great. Here’s my number,” Peter scribbles messily on a small sheet of note paper, handing it to you. It was adorable how nervous he was for being a well-respected doctor who waltzed in with a sweet kind of confidence. You were giddy as well, but you were way better at hiding it clearly. You snatch the sheet with your fingers, tucking it away in your palm.

“Do you do this with all your patients, Dr. Parker?” You tease with a quirked eyebrow and a pointed finger at his chest. Peter huffs out a chuckle while clicking his tongue.

“Only the most beautiful ones,” He gently lifts your finger, kissing it gently before striding out of the room. Peter doesn’t forget to leave an arrogant wink as the heavy, wooden door closes abruptly.

Maybe being a doctor does make him arrogant. Sometimes.

You stand frozen, starstruck. Your breathing was back to heaving again because he left you breathless. And speechless. You jokingly wondered for a minute if you would die from a heart attack, due to the rapid thumping of a stupid organ against your ribs. Curious, you open your palm and unfold the slip of paper he wrote hastingly. Glancing past the number, you notice the small words underneath.

Please, call me Peter.

—

yesss tell me what you think :)

[thefavchilde]

STAY A LITTLE LONGER (FOR NO SAKE BESIDES MY OWN)

pairing: reigen arataka x gn reader

synopsis: when spirits are low in the office (pun intended), serizawa calls on you, an old friend, to play makeshift pr agent to get business back up. unfortunately, a certain not technically boss of yours isn’t ready for you to leave, and metaphorically blocks the exit for as long as he can manage.

category: fluff, crack, #stomp on dimple 2023, serizawa has friends as a kid au idk plot convenience

a/n: my first non genshin writing on this blog. sorry i literally do not post consistently lol. i just had this idea and felt like writing something for it.

Reigen Arataka was a man of many words. Not dignified, not solemn nor sincere, but many words nevertheless. Any professionalism he managed to maintain was nothing short of an act. So, it was no surprise to Serizawa when Reigen had slipped up a few too many times in his attitude and services, and for the first time in a short while, the reputation of Spirits and Such began to fall. Enter you.

In a pit of despair, where all hope for a split second was lost, a shining beacon came through (as Reigen described it, “just like in minecraft) in the form of Serizawa’s childhood friend who he’d recently picked up contact with again. Sure, you’d just been laid off from a job with no relevance at all, but he knew you were head of your debate team as a student, and so he suggested the company pay you to be a makeshift PR agent until things were more smooth sailing again.

Well, you didn’t have any better options, did you?

If you weren’t previously aware of Serizawa’s psychic powers, you would’ve totally called bullshit on your first entry. Long story short, the place looked sketchy as shit. Hell, even their website looked like a museum displaying computer viruses since the beginning of time. It was lively though, that you could appreciate. You worked in a small circle, but everyone was welcoming. You’d taken a fair liking to the boss, Reigen; though Serizawa had warned you of his antics, you could only find him amusing for it. You couldn’t help but click with him. Aside from him, a less than pathetic looking spirit called Dimple lingered around, as well as a middle school kid they’d dubbed as Mob passing through on occasion to lend a hand.

Your makeshift corner of the office grew to feel like a second home. Reigen had helped you decorate it in your first couple of days, which Dimple claimed was completely unlike him to go so out of his way, but you didn’t think much of it.

Unbeknownst to you, Dimple was onto something. To him, the situation was glaringly obvious, and you just couldn’t get the memo through that thick mortal skull of yours. Did you not see the way Reigen’s eyes practically had the life injected into them when you entered the room? Were you blind or plain stupid?

You seem to find yourself alone in the office with Reigen more often than you had anticipated. Fleeting gazes and touches are exchanged, though not addressed at any point during your ever flowing conversation. Reigen found himself totally enamoured with you and your personality. You seemed to be somewhat alike in charisma, as he picked up on your natural capabilities in socialising over time. You did your job and you did it well. That’s the reason Reigen told himself he wanted to keep you around so badly. Yet, the thought kept circling. The realisation of how badly he’d miss you once you left.

All comes to a halt one evening, a few shifts before you were due to leave. You’d been with S&S for around a month and things seemed to be getting back on track, thus giving you not much visible reason to be here. After you pack your things and leave, smiling warmly as you shut the door behind you, Reigen’s eyes don’t leave the door. He zones out completely. Everyone had gone home for the night, leaving him alone. Or so he thought, as Dimple moves to loom over his shoulder once more.

“Do you ever leave me alone?” He sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose between his fingers. He’s visibly agitated. So stressed that if you approached him he might pop, like stabbing a needle into a balloon. Truthfully, he knows exactly what this is about before Dimple can even speak at all.

“Are you gonna ask them or not?” Dimple questions him bluntly, not bothering to tread lightly around the topic.

Reigen decides to play dumb, “I have no idea what you’re talking about.” His face is screwed up and his posture is unnaturally stiff in that chair. He might as well have not even bothered to lie at all.

“Everytime [Name] leaves through that door, you look more and more dejected. You gonna miss all of their glitz and glamour, Reigen? Is that it? Gonna miss how they greet you every morning, with that smile that just makes your stomach do flips?”

Reigen practically growls his response through gritted teeth, refusing to look in his direction. “Let’s not.” He warns. “[Name] and I have a strictly professional relationship, and I’d much prefer to keep it that way.”

“You’re pathetic, you know that?”

“I am nothing of the sort.”

“Well-“ Dimple begins, forcing his way infront of Reigen’s line of vision, to which he simply turns his head once more in response. “What else- or who else- do you have going for you? You’re gonna let this chance slip by?”

“…I should fire you.”

“Am I officially employed? I don’t believe I ever signed a contract. And you expect to get rid of me how exactly?”

“Whatever, I’ll have to think about it. I’ll get back to you.”

“Good luck confessing by the end of the week. I’m not counting on you.”

Reigen can easily tell that Dimple’s method here was reverse psychology. It didn’t take a genius to catch on to the fact he was trying to get inside his head. Still, it worked. He just happened to be aware of it.

He spends the next two days preparing. He runs through plans with Serizawa and runs through errands with Mob. Flowers, your favourite sweets, nothing out of the ordinary. Aside from the fact that he assigns Mob the task of quite literally stealing from his school art department instead of just buying what he needed, simply because the thought didn’t cross his mind, as obvious as it may have seemed. All he needs is a large sheet of card and some colourful pens. And a quiet office. He’d have to wait for you to leave on the Wednesday evening to prepare everything.

He questions his own sanity throughout this process. What if he got rejected? Is this all going to be for nothing?

Dimple keeps a close eye on things, but refuses to interfere. He still doesn’t believe Reigen has the balls to follow through. He has killed social skills with strangers, but on the contrary, he himself was the stranger when it came down to love.

Reigen certainly lacks the confidence when Thursday rolls around. He can’t swallow the lump in his throat, and his fears manifest themselves in the pit of his stomach, making him feel very much ill. He yet again second guesses himself and the whole proposal. Stepping back from the setup, he concludes he shares more traits with a high schooler asking their crush to prom than an actual grown adult.

As expected, you’re the first one in, and yet Reigen practically jumps out of his skin, fumbling for the sign and gifts as you widen your eyes, totally confused. He holds up the sign with the best, least awkward smile he can manage- which is very awkward still- and you reciprocate his expression. Your eyes scan over the writing, surrounded by hearts and stars.

“Stay a little longer

(For no sake besides my own)”

You can’t help but burst out into laughter. Not maliciously- you’re very flustered by the whole ordeal, actually- but rather out of surprise.

“You like me? Romantically? You like me?”

“…Yes. Sorry- this was totally unprofessional. Wrong way to go about it, especially seeing as you barely even know me and yet here I am. Genuinely, no hard feelings, I promise-“ He begins regretfully before you cut him off.

“No, I definitely like you back. Pretty good way to go about it.” You grin, stepping closer. “My favourite sweets, too. You know me better than you think.”

“Oh- seriously?”

“Like so seriously. If you’re interested in keeping me on the team, maybe you can discuss that with me on our first date.” You wink, and although out of your sight, Dimple curses himself for being wrong. Reigen had actually gone and done it. Turns out he was slightly less pathetic than the spirit had once presumed.

[goth-automaton]

All if you'd want pretty please!

...

You really hate me, don't you? /joking

Okay, I'll try...

The basic idea of Haunted House AU was described here, so I won't elaborate on it (feel free to ask any questions, though!).

"Metal Gear Chaos: RE//connection" is an AU me and babe made some time ago. Basically, years after events of MGS4 supporters of Patriots created a new organization, dubbed Neo-Patriots, which prompted revival of Philanthropy, this time led by Snake and Otacon's daughters: Sunny and 4 years younger Emma. The AU follows various adventures of Philanthropy's members and adjacent characters, with whole character and story arcs.

"Story of a Phoenix" is an AU centred around daughter of Dabi and Hawks, Reimi Takami. The story starts at the reveal Dabi is pregnant and covers her life, through her childhood, her helping overthrow the hero system as a teen and later enrolment into a dance school in Berlin and career as a professional dancer. The AU later gets a bit derailed and shifts most of its focus towards Shigaraki's adopted daughter, Karina.

Roxene's native AU is, well, AU centred about my OC Roxene – a maid from Marluxia's past, who joins Org13 as a sorta housekeeper (castlekeeper?) and ends up becoming Org's emotional support animal. It later gets a bit complicated, as someone tries to get rid of her.

"Bur;al" is an AU, where Vexen, the main character, is a single mother of Zexion (14yo) and Xion (5yo). Following advice from his bff, Lexaeus, he moves from big city to a smaller one, where he gets hired as an embalmer at the local mortuary owned by forever absent Xemnas. The story is a mix of slice of life and horror, as shortly after his joining Vexen starts being haunted by... Something.

"unforget you" – during a mission in Realm of Darkness, Roxas and Xion get saved from a pissed off heartless by a mysterious entity. They later come back and befriend it. The entity, named by the two Xana, is pure Darkness with "a heart long dead and putrefied". Xana (they/them pronouns) doesn't know, who they actually are and what their past is. The story will focus on figuring that out, with only hint being Xana's seeming connection to a couple of Org's members.

Massive crossover AU (I think I'll call it "Automata: Mechanismus Mundi") – after events of KH3, Marluxia, Saïx (who's developed an alternate personality after recompletion, Isa), Vexen and Zexion have troubles with getting used to their new lives, especially with the fact they're expected to just let go of their experiences at Org and go back to who they were before it. At one point Vexen and Zexion are visited by Accord, who introduces herself as a Recorder – an android tasked with archiving events of various dimensions and timelines. It turns out some incarnation of Xehanort survived, discovered there are worlds beyond KH's multiverse and is now jumping through them, infesting them with heartless and causing tears in reality, which leads to people going missing. Accord demands someone to fix it. Zexion, Marluxia, Saïx/Isa and 2B, with Vexen as a mission control (he helps gather information about worlds the gang goes to) join her and travel through universes of various video games to defeat Xehanort and restore peace.

Unnamed ancient gods AU somehow sparked from this fic. Not long after Saïx's passing, Xemnas introduces new Number VII – Keizelex, the Violent Maiden. She comes from one of very few communities, that still practice Cult of the Ancients – once popular old religion centred on gods born with the whole universe, who were supposed to bring guidance to their followers and keep Laws of the Universe from being broken. The joining of Keizelex quickly destabilizes whole Org, as it becomes apparent that there is more to her, than it first seemed.

Circus KH AU – 16yo gymnast Xion, running away from her shitty stepmother, joins a circus owned by mysterious Xemnas and led by Xigbar. Features found family shenanigans, some suspicious shit going on behind the scenes, almost everyone having tragic backstories, Marluxia being pregnant and a polycule so complicated, I had to draw a diagram to somehow keep track of it:

Also, Roxene is there and yes, she's also everyone's emotional support animal.

KH x DMMD AU (made with help of @overheaven) – pretty self-explanatory. Marluxia, Larxene, Xigbar and Aoba are a group of Rhymers belonging to a Rib gang, tasked with fighting other gangs to keep influence over parts of Midorijima (in this AU, it is possible to play Rhyme as a group instead of single PvP). At the same time, Marluxia and Larxene are co-parenting Marluxia's 4yo daughter, Naminé, and Aoba is taking care of his twin brother, Sei, and Sei's daughter of similar age to Naminé, Xion. Also, there is some shady shit going on related to a disbandment of a very influential Rib gang, that happened years ago after someone set their homebase on fire, killing their leader.

"Complicated and Filthy" – Marluxia (17yo, 3rd grade of high school) is a boyfriend of Xigbar (19yo), both are certified life disasters. One day he has to move in with Xigbar due to his parents kicking him out of the house – he got pregnant with Xigbar's baby. Basically slice of life drama. Secondary characters include a group of delinquents Marluxia is a part of: 4th grader and leader Aqua, fellow 3rd graders Larxene, Saïx and Demyx, 2nd grader Kairi and 1st graders Roxas and Xion (who actually isn't very deliquentish, but one day she just started hanging out with them and no one had a heart to tell her to go away. Now she's sorta emotional support mascot).

Brand new AU inspired by "American Mary" involves a polycule made of archivist Vexen (who's currently expecting a baby), owner of a small tattoo shop Xaldin, sex worker Saïx and med student Marluxia – main character. Saïx is working for Xigbar, a kind owner of an underground brothel, who treats his workers (and people related to them) like a family. Marluxia sometimes does some body mods for Xigbar's workers, mainly piercings and ear sharpening, at the back of Xaldin's tattoo shop (which is kinda illegal, 'cause he doesn't have license, but he's good at it + none of his clients is going to snitch). One night Saïx accidentally discovers, that one of his regular clients is smuggling drugs, which leads to the guy cutting an X on his face him to scare him. Furious Marluxia enacts revenge by mutilating the guy. Professionally mutilating the guy – while he does end in the hospital, he survives. Story about what he did quickly spreads over whole underground and Marluxia is asked by Larxene – Xigbar's old friend – to work at her back-alley aesthetic medicine clinic as a plastic surgeon. Marluxia first refuses, but in the end gets convinced because money. And then shit happens, when it turns out, that the drug dealing ring involves some people from Marluxia's university. Also, Zexion is there as a surgery assistant in Larxene's clinic.

*leans in their chair* That's all for the AUs I mentioned in the post. Thoughts, questions?

[astr0disiac]

𝐊𝐈𝐍𝐊𝐓𝐎𝐁𝐄𝐑 𝐃𝐀𝐘 𝟒: 𝐓𝐀𝐊𝐄 𝐀 𝐒𝐋𝐈𝐂𝐄

𝐓𝐨𝐣𝐢 𝐅𝐮𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐠𝐮𝐨 𝐱 𝐅𝐄𝐌!𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

WARNING(S): Dub-con, dirty talk, spanking, spitting, praise/degradation, multiple orgasms, mention of masturbation, infidelity, (slight) public sex, multiple orgasms, manipulation/gaslighting, oral (m!receiving), strip tease, (slight) food play, professor/college student dynamic, inappropriate sexual relationship, angst

SUMMARY: Professor Fushiguro finds solace in his smartest student in all the wrong ways, and you're left to pick up the pieces.

WORD COUNT: 7k

SONG: Take a Slice - Glass Animals

A/N: My apologies for the delay, it got a bit longer than I expected. I really like the concept of this short story, and may turn it into a fic if readers are interested. Thank you for being patient with me.

--

You slumped in your seat, the surface cool against the back of your thighs where your skirt didn’t reach. You sighed heavily through your nose as your professor went on and on about something related to the human body. Because of your phenomenal grades and natural smarts, you often drowned out this class. It had nothing to do with your major, but you needed this last credit to graduate, so you swallowed the boring teaching three times a week like clockwork.

Well, it wasn’t that boring.

Dr. Fushiguro’s looks were anything but.

As he paced the front of the lecture hall, your eyes scour his body. He always went with a professional look, today a gray two piece suit with a midnight tie hung loosely around his neck since he kept adjusting it. The clothing clung to his body, his muscles tensing and relaxing with each movement he made. You couldn’t help but wonder what it would feel like to be encased in his strong grasp, touched by his veiny hands. The idea made you squirm in your seat, squeezing your thighs together to relieve that dull ache in your lower abdomen.

Now, Toji was a man, a human like any other, and he too had flaws. Made mistakes. But one of his biggest mistakes was laying eyes on you.

He could feel your gaze eating at him like it often does three times a week, which is why he began pacing instead of looking at his students head on. It gave his legs something to do, his brain something else to think about other than how nice your breast looked sitting perked up and at attention. He had noticed your skirts getting shorter and shorter, the way your hips swayed, practically begging for him to grip them. Lips full and plump, his mind making him think about how soft they would be.

But he couldn’t pursue you. One reason being that you were a student, and he was your professor at one of the most pristine universities in the nation.

The other being, he is married.

Even if the marriage wasn’t the ritz right now, he still tried to hold it together piece by piece with his unfaithful wife. He had a son to think about, Megumi, who would always come first. He and his wife had been trying to work through her shortcomings, but it wasn’t the same anymore, the love they once had was beginning to fizzle out into a hole of nothingness. Whenever he and his wife got intimate, he could barely get it up, until a moment alone in his bathroom shower got him thinking about you, and he almost came on the spot. So, with guilt rocking his brain, he would often think of your face while fucking his own wife, or moan your name as he jerked off in his alone time. He felt like shit, felt as if he were doing the same thing his wife had done to him. After his heart was broken by the love of his life, his morals dissipated into nothing, leaving you in its wake. He was angry, pissed, and seething that you had the audacity to make him feel like this. A married man. A faithful, and loyal husband even when no one else gave him the same respect.

But there you were, a few rows back tempting him with your innocent gaze. The way your legs crossed, threatening to show what was under that dangerously short skirt made him take a hard swallow, before stammering through his lecture once more. He needed to focus. He couldn’t risk losing his job and his wife.

Halfway through the lecture, he felt your glare seize, and was finally able to take a deep breath. He took a peak towards you and realized you had fallen asleep. While he was relieved, he couldn’t help but feel a bit of concern. Concern, but nothing else, he swore it was simply that. You were the brightest student in all of his classes combined, always punctual and diligently taking notes. But lately, he had noticed your class participation had begun to decrease. He had always wanted to ask what brought this bout of slack, but getting you alone seemed too risky. He would simply ask in passing as you left today. Nothing more, nothing less.

Toji wrapped up his lesson, dismissing his students a bit early as penance for his unprofessional thoughts. As the students filed out, ready to head home or to their next class, you lingered back, packing your things painfully slow. Maybe it just seemed that way because he wanted to get you out of his line of sight, but it seemed as if you were moving in slow motion as opposed to everything around him. Finally, you make it to his desk as the last person leaves. Toji’s jaw clenches, trying to keep his eyes above your shoulder level as his large figure towers over you.

“I apologize, Toji.” You said nervously, his presence overwhelming you. He was quite the intimidating man, and the battle scar on his lip didn’t seem to help. But as much as you found him intimidating, you found him equally as sexy. “I dozed off a bit, do you mind emailing me the notes from the last 30 minutes or so?”

The way you said his first name had him gripping the side of his desk. At the start of the semester, he gave the greenlight to call him by his first name if the students felt comfortable enough. It unfortunately came back to bite him.

“Yeah sure, give me a second.” Toji moves behind his large mahogany desk, fiddling away on his laptop. As he scrolls through, finding your email on the roster, he clears his throat. The tension in the room was thick, so thick he felt as if it were constricting his movements.

“May I ask if something has been bothering you?” His voice poised and warm, heat rushing through your veins even more. You crossed your legs as you stood, scared your own arousal would trail down your thighs.

“Nothing in particular.” You hummed nervously, rocking onto your toes. Toji watched you with a close eye, arms outstretched along the length of the desk, hands gripping the edge. His muscles seemed to bulge against the fabric of his suit, threatening to pop out as he leaned forward.

Toji’s eyes wandered down your body quickly, before meeting your irises. The way your clothes curved into each swell of your body, framing your assets made Toji foam at the mouth. He shifts his gaze back to his laptop, refusing the offer before him. Just because of his shitty marriage, just because of his shattered heart, just because of the overwhelming loneliness he felt did not give him an excuse to thirst after you like that. He was a good husband, a great one in fact, and he needed that title to remain. He still had some dignity.

But he also had needs that muddled that moral compass of his. His judgment was clouded from that point on, locking away his worries.

“I don’t mean to pry, (Y/N), but does this class bore you?” His voice prodded your body, your nails digging into your palms.

“I mean, that’s one way to put it.” You flush.

“I only ask because of your lack of attentiveness lately. I’m sure there are ways to make the subject more interesting for you.”

You chewed your bottom lip. Toji’s collected attitude threw you off, because his voice exuded something different. Something that coerced you to want to listen some more.

“I think I’ve found something that will help me regain my focus.”

Toji tilts his head to the side, his eyes fogging with something you can’t describe. Again, that familiar ache creeps its way into your stomach, and it takes everything in you not to double over.

“And what might that be?”

At this point, Toji knew what he was saying, what he was implying. He talked with purpose, his words persuading you to make the first move. Would you take the bait, the main question, and his guilty conscience racked his brain as he prayed that you would.

You quickly assessed the moment, Toji seemingly hanging onto your very word. Did he sense your attraction to him, or were you simply reading the room wrong? Even if you were right in your deduction, it would still be wrong to pursue this man; he was you fucking proffessor for God’s sake. But as you felt the squish of your drenched undergarments when you shifted your feet, you knew you just had to take a chance. You were both consenting adults, what harm would be done?

“I think that would be you, Toji…sir.” You muttered.

Hook, line, and sinker.

Like a fish gnawing on a piece of bait, Toji caught you. You spoke it into existence, you initiated. He hadn’t done or said anything to force those words out of your mouth.

He closes his eyes, taking a deep inhale, exhaling through his nose as his lust elevates. Unbeknownst to you, his length begins to tent slightly in those gray pants of his.

“Do you think, or do you know?” His voice lures you into his snares. He steps from behind the desk, walking up to you carefully, yet with such a huge cockiness about him. Your stature begins to deteriorate, your heart beating rapidly.

“I..I-”

“There seems to be a lot of things you don’t know lately.” His voice spills the words seductively into your ear. “Since you don’t know how to stay awake in class, you also fail to know the complete lesson for today, correct?”

“Correct, sir…” You muttered, embarrassment burning your cheeks. Where was this husky, mysterious man leading you to? Did you misread his remarks and mistakenly try to advance?

“And per my syllabus and the strict rules of this academy, don’t you think a demerit is in order?”

“By all means, sir, I’d really like to keep my stand in your class. It’s the last one that I need.” You pleaded, leaning towards him a bit more. Toji leers, the corner of his lip upturned, strands of hair adorning his face. God, he was such a fine man.

“I can offer you extra credit, but that is about the best I can do, (Y/N). If you can’t finish that, then I’ll have to deduct points from your final grade.”

Your mind was full on spinning now, bewildered at the turn of events. He seemed to be enticed, but he wasn’t making any moves, or any decisions for that matter. Despite him allowing you to dictate what was or what wasn’t to happen, it still felt as if he were tugging you along, shoving the key in your hand to unlock the doors of boundaries not to cross.

Tempting isn’t even the proper word to describe it.

“I’ll tell you what, since you’re thinking a little too hard. We’ll quiz each other.” Toji suggests, yet there is more behind his words than what he is actually saying.

“Quiz each other?” You repeat, entertaining the idea.

“Exactly.” Toji says, his arms folding over his large chest. “We can ask each other questions, simple as that. If I answer wrong three times, I’ll allow your mistake to go unnoticed. You can even pick another penalty, if you’d like.” His eyes glint, mischievous actions hidden behind those emerald eyes.

Quizzing your professor? Someone who has literally gained a doctorate in his profession and was, in fact, teaching you about it? It seemed impossible, but an impossibility that you could still gain from. You were more interested in what would happen if you got the answers wrong.

You straightened yourself up, adjusting your clothes as you prepare yourself. You clear your throat, giving Toji a devilish smile.

“Let’s start.”

You and Toji began asking each other questions back and forth, never missing a beat as you answered with flying colors. The tension seemed to level out, as you began enjoying this little activity instead. You looked so satisfied in your winnings, and Toji wanted to throw you off your game a bit.

“What is…” You pondered, forming another question. “What is movement toward the midline of the body?”

“Abduction.” Toji smoothly replies, and your face contorts.

“I’m sorry, could you repeat that?” You ask, almost as if giving him another chance. There’s no way he just answered that incorrectly.

“Abduction, of course.” He again says, not wavering in his sentence. Your face curved into a shit eating grin, tutting your tongue against the roof of your mouth.

“I’m sorry, Professor, but that answer is incorrect.” Your voice was smooth, drizzling into his ears like warm honey.

“Damn.” Toji feigns a loss. You laugh, getting ready to fire off another question, when he stops you.

“What’s my penalty?”

“Penalty?” You repeated like a parrot, your voice pitching at the end of the word.

“Yes.” Toji remarks, as if it were common knowledge. “I told you that you were allowed to pick one for me if you would like to. I mean, it’s only fair. That’s how winning and losing normally works.”

Like a spark, the nerves within the room became restless again. You didn’t have to think about his penalty much, there was so much you wanted him to do, to you to be more specific. It was clear that the attraction was there, the way he leaned in when you talked to show his attentiveness, the way you noticed him putting his growing tent on display, not even bothering to sidestep behind his desk. The way his eyes stared at your lips whenever you spoke. There were a million things you wanted to do, but you simply wanted to test the waters. Tease him, if you will.

“Take off your jacket.” You mumbled, your cheeks ablaze. Toji cocked his head in surprise, the request being subtle, yet bold at the same time. Smiling, he shrugs off the jacket, letting it slip off his shoulders and onto the floor. You feel arousal gush between your legs as your eyes graze him with hunger. His pectorals were more akin to breasts at their bodacious size, the buttons of the white shirt straining to keep itself closed. You hadn’t noticed your mouth was slightly ajar until Toji took his pointer finger and lifted your jaw to close your mouth.

“Next question, (Y/N).” He encourages you in a demanding tone, trying to regain your focus.

“What…what is…” Your voice wobbled. You began to malfunction, unable to properly focus with his chest protruding out to the level of your face. “...the movement away…from the midline of the body?”

Oh, you fucked up.

Toji could see you melting into a puddle of putty right before him. Your face dusted in blush as you tried to keep eye contact with him. Hell, he could hear how soaked you were; every time you situated your thighs together it made an enticing squish sound, your cunt begging to be touched and prodded. It took everything not to palm himself in front of you, but he had to be patient.

The answer to this question actually was abduction, but he wanted to see you fall apart a bit more.

“Adduction.” Toji answered with a smile, and you take a hard swallow.

“Professor, that’s incorrect.”

Lips still upturned, he leans in closer, his warm breath dusting your face.

“Penalty?”

Your body tensed, abdomen aching as he practically dared you to continue this forbidden game you decided to play. Your chest rapidly rises and falls, anxious to continue.

“Tie.” You said, tugging the already loose tie. It slips carelessly from around his neck, and you throw it on the desk. Toji takes it up a notch, taking his calloused fingers and painfully unbuttoning three buttons.

“What are…the four phases of mitosis in order?” You ask softly. Toji continues to unbutton himself, each time he answers.

“Prophase…metaphase…” His voice was silky as he stood two buttons away from being topless. “Anaphase, and telophase.”

His entire upper body was on display for your eyes to explore. Every muscle twitched and glistened under the yellow fluorescents as you saw his heart pound against his chest.

“That’s correct, Professor. Just when I thought I was about to win.”

“I’m not gonna make it that easy for you.” He smirks, leaning against his desk. He knew he had you wound tight enough, and now it was time to watch you collapse. He turned to the board, picking up the yardstick that sat on its railings. He often used it to point at the information projected on the board, but he’s found an even better use with you.

“True or false.” Toji began his turn. “A meniscus is found at all synovial joints.”

“T-true?” You answer, not even hearing the question correctly.

“That is incorrect, (Y/N).” He turns the object in his hand, then extends it to touch your shirt.

“Remove it.” He demands. You hesitate, but your hands gradually find the bottom of your shirt. You tug upward, the fabric leaving your body in one swift movement, exposing your bra. Your heartbeat seemed to increase, the sound pounding in your ears.

“Another true or false.” Toji continues, not missing a beat. “The maxilla forms part of the orbit.”

“False? Shit- I mean-”

“Incorrect again, (Y/N).” Toji emphasizes his disappointed tone, shaking his head with shame. He takes the stick, placing it under the strap of your bra, tugging it. It releases with a snap against your shoulder, and you withhold a gasp.

“Remove it.”

You blink, unable to process what you had been told, but your body mindlessly follows his alluring instructions. You unhook the front clasp, your breast bubbling out immediately. You shrug your bra off onto the floor, the cool air dusting your hardened nipples. You cross your arms in front of your chest, feeling vulnerable.

Toji watches you shuffle your feet. He decides to give you a way out, which is more of a way out for himself.

“Do you wish to continue, (Y/N)?”

Of fucking course you did, but this was wrong, so very wrong. But maybe this act of danger, this thrilling feeling is what made you answer so quickly.

“Yes…” You mumbled.

“Alright.” He smirked, tapping the stick in his hand. “Last true or false.” He says cooly, and you prepare yourself for the question.

“You’ve touched yourself to me.”

The question chokes you up mentally and physically, your brain and heart stopping at the question.

“T-that doesn’t pertain to the class, Professor.” Your voice shook as he gave you a knowing look.

“Did I say it had to pertain to the class?” Toji smirks, and your eyes bulge at his play on words. No, he hadn’t specifically said that. You just assumed. “Now answer, true or false. You’ve touched yourself to me.”

“I…I-” You stammered, not wanting to answer truthfully. How could you admit something like that so casually? How could he even ask that?

“Is this refusal to answer? Because if you refuse to answer, then that means you’re incorrect. And that’s your last question.” He smirks, rubbing the yardstick in his hand. “Answer me truthfully, (Y/N). I don’t like liars.”

“I…I…haven’t.” You fib, as plainly as the eye can see. Toji scoffs, glowering at the stick that he kept passing between his hands.

“You haven’t?” He repeats, giving you a way out, but you refuse to admit to that.

“No, sir.” You gulped.

Silence envelops you two, and you don't dare breathe. The vibe around Toji seemed to change as his movements halted, hands gripping the yardstick with a vengeance.

“Liar.”

Before you can even think, Toji is slamming your body into his desk, the contents rattling at the impact. You gasp, your face and chest pressed against the cool wood. You felt wind go up your skirt and knew Toji was getting a full show back there. You pant, a slight tinge of fear rushing through your veins along with elation. You feel Toji press his body weight on you, hands pinned behind your back. You feel a piece of fabric being wound tightly around your wrist. As you raise your head to try and see what he’s doing, you feel your head being slammed back down against the wood. You struggle slightly, to no avail, his body heavy as his hardened length pressed against your ass.

“You’re such a fucking liar, (Y/N).”

You squeeze your legs together, the unprofessional words going straight to your cunt. You feel him change positions slightly so that your ass was no longer directly behind you. You feel the yardstick being rubbed gently on your ass, and you begin to panic.

“Toji, Toji wait-!” You beg, but he ignores you.

“Shhh.” He hushes you. “Liars don’t get to talk.”

And like the punctuation of a sentence, he ends his words with a hefty slap on your ass using the stick. You jolt in surprise against the desk, knees knocking into the drawers.

“You think I don’t notice the way you are in class?”

Another smack, and you bite your tongue to keep your voice lodged in your throat.

“The way you subtly grind your seat, squirming as you listen to my voice…”

Another hit to your ass, and you yelp, the constant strikes to that area stinging more and more.

“How do you clench your thighs together, rubbing them in front of me with such gall?”

Another blinding hit, this time getting a whine out of you. Your ass involuntarily wiggles, hands struggling to remove its restraints.

“Toji-” You cry out, lifting your head, but he pushes you back down, hands fisted in your hair.

“Shut the fuck up.” He spits, air pushing out of his nostrils at an unprecedented speed.

“I mean, just look at the way your body reacts to me.” He says cockily, leaning down to place kisses on your shoulder. You moan slowly, writhing in his touch. Each kiss, his tongue would dart out, leaving a wet trail on your smooth skin.

God, Toji didn’t think you would taste this good, nor feel this good under his grasp. He couldn’t help but nipple on your flesh, giving you another hot smack on your ass. Tears are welling your eyes, skin stinging and burning from the repetitive assault. You knew bruises on your ass would be evident, along with the front of your hips as the edge of the desk dug into your flesh.

“It’s like your body knows I’m supposed to be here, touching you like this. Like it expects me.” His tone softened to a dull whisper. You whimper, feeling the yard stick tap against your cunt, sliding across your slit. Your hips follow it, trying to relieve friction against the object.

“Look at you, grinding on this thing like a whore.” He said, watching your clear essence leak onto the piece of would.

Your head was spinning the sensation of everything too much in your psyche. You accidentally open your mouth, letting the words tumble out, along with strangled moans.

“Toji, please-” You plead, and the fist entangled in your hair snatches you up. You cry out, unable to grab onto anything.

“What, a needy bitch can’t keep her mouth closed?” He grunts, chuckling before forcing you onto your knees. Your vision was foggy as you hit the carpet, but you could still make out his face. It was dark, scary, and threatening. It looked as if he would kill you, the bright verdant of his eyes covered in a cloud of pure lust and want. You didn't expect him to be so aggressive, but part of you craved more to your dismay.

Toji unzips his pants, pulling himself out of his boxers. Your jaw goes slack as you look at his length and girth, the pants he had on hiding such a treasure very well. He taps his cock onto your bottom lip, prodding you to open your mouth.

“Wider.” He demands, and you oblige. You open your mouth, and Toji slips himself past your tongue. Even though you were as wide as possible, it was still far too much to properly and comfortably fit in your mouth. Your tears fell as he seemed to enlarge over your delicate tongue. Your muffled protest vibrated around his cock, and he released a low grunt.

“Sluts shouldn’t talk with their mouth full.” He pants, shoving another inch into your mouth. Each inch that disappeared down your throat unlocked a new sound from the man above you. Soon, his entire length was lodged in your throat. His hands go to the side of your face, slowly moving you off his length, then back down his shaft. He continued to fuck your face, hips slowly grinding as he got himself off in your mouth.

“Come on, hollow those cheeks.” He grunts, bringing your face all the way down to the base of his cock. You gag involuntarily, eyes welling more as your airway is cut off. Toji gives a throaty moan, feeling his tip hit the back of your throat. You wished you could touch yourself, maybe him, or anything for that matter. It turned you on so much, watching this human God have his way with your mouth, head lolled back in ecstasy as he increased his speed slightly. He looks down at you, watching his length bury itself over and over again. He wipes the tears falling down your face with his thumb and licks the salted liquid off, giving you such a lazy smile.

“God, you’re so pretty like this.” He continued to thrust, abdomen contracting as he felt that familiar knot in his stomach. It’s like his thoughts came to fruition. He can’t believe he finally got you to himself like this, on your knees crying as he fucked your swollen lips.

You whimpered on his cock, your jaw beginning to sting from his relentless pounding. The sound of his wet sex echoed around the room, save for a few low moans that left his mouth. Maybe it’s because your senses were in a frenzy, but you could have sworn you heard a set of footsteps that obviously didn’t belong to either of you.

Your eyes widen, and you look at Toji, who seems to have heard it as well. While you were on the floor panicking, Toji looked as calm as ever. Swearing under his breath, he pops his length out of your mouth, and you gasp for air. He then shoves you under his desk (along with the discarded clothes), plopping into his chair.

“Not a word.” He says to you under the desk, before sitting up and rolling towards it. Your heart begins beating uncontrollably, your whole body quaking in the darkness of the desk. If someone heard, if someone caught you, it’d be over and done for. You blink rapidly, watching your future slowly go down the drain.

You hear the door from across the room open, and you still your breathing, not moving a muscle.

Toji had buttoned his shirt all the way up, and calmly placed his elbow on the desk, resting his chin in his palm. All he had to do was act natural, until he recognized the spikey haired child from across the room. Suddenly, sweat began to blossom on his nose.

“Megumi.” He says calmly, trying not to cause his voice to quiver. But you noticed his change in cadence. He definitely knew this person on a personal level, the way panic settled into his demeanor.

“We’ve been waiting in your office for almost an hour.” The boy said, the presence of Toji’s wife being implied. Toji takes a hard swallow, rubbing his hands across his features. “Plus, I’m starving like crazy.” Megumi exasperates.

“I’m sorry, Megumi. I got a little caught up.”

You refrained from scoffing. Toji and the person were just having a casual conversation as if you weren’t sitting under your professor’s desk half naked. You shuffled a bit, and Toji heard you. He presses the soul of his shoe on your knee to stop you from moving. You eye his bottom half, a bit annoyed at how uncomfortable this position was. As you look, you get a glimpse of his member, still slightly wet, and half hard as it just stood there on display. If you were going to be uncomfortable, you might as well make it worse for him as well.

It was evident that you wouldn’t be seen, but the thought of getting caught riled you back up.

Toji continued his meaningless conversation to whoever walked in as you quietly shuffled forward between his open legs. You lean forward in his crotch, and kiss his length, which immediately perks up. Toji jolts a bit, kicking you slightly in the process as a warning. You ignore it, of course.

You swallow his cock whole, slowly working your neck back and forth as his legs fidgeted. You hear his voice strain mid sentence, trying to withhold sounds of his pleasure building.

“I’ll be out in…just a second.” Toji heaved out, his son giving him a peculiar look.

“Are you feeling alright?” Megumi asks in a concerned manner, blissfully unaware of what was actually taking place. “You’ve been pushing yourself extra hard lately.”

“Yeah I just…” Toji paused, his hips instinctively grinding into you as he scooted his chair up more. “I just haven’t been feeling the best as of late, with everything going on.”

Megumi gives a knowing nod, him knowing the bulk of his parents' relationship. “Don’t catch a fever, who else will take care of me?” Megumi sarcastically quips.

“Gojo will do just fucking fine.” Toji attempts to withhold his grunts as you sucked the soul of him, tongue swirling on his leaking tip. He felt so hot, incredibly embarrassed and overwhelmed at the fact that he was getting a blowjob right in front of his son, and his son didn’t even know. He felt his stomach knot, and he tapped you again as your last warning. He wanted to beg you to stop, not to continue any further or he wouldn’t be able to contain himself.

“That man is a child and you know it.” Megumi rolls his eyes.

You were sucking down on Toji like your life depended on it, and you felt him twitch in your mouth. Toji coughs a bit, acting as if to clear his throat to cover your slurping sounds.

“I’ll be out in about 10 minutes.” Toji huffs, trying to contain himself. Megumi simply nods, and as you hear him open the door to exit, you then bring yourself down all the way to the base of his shaft, and gag. The noise startles Toji, and he aggressively clears his throat, the sensation overwhelming as he spurts into your mouth, his hips trembling in the chair. Your whine is muffled, an overwhelming amount of semen spilling out of your mouth and around his length.

The door shuts, and the footsteps recede.

Toji lets out a strangled breath, his cock still twitching in your mouth. He reaches down, easing himself from between your sore jaws, and snatches you from under the desk. You yelp, the cum you hadn’t swallowed drooling out of your mouth as you find yourself being slammed on his desk yet again.

“Who gave you permission to do that?” He spits his breath fanning your face as you whimper. Toji couldn’t believe you; making him come undone in the presence of his son as he talked about his wife.

His fucking wife.

His wife who he loved so dearly.

His wife who he just betrayed.

Toji was enraged. He was beyond upset as his gut coiled. While he should be mad at himself more than anyone, he ignored his faults to blame you instead.

You initiated it.

You came onto him.

This was your fault, and the only way to deal with his actions was to take his anger out on you.

He grabs your undergarments and snatches them off your ass, discarding them on the floor.

“Toji, I’m sorry, I-” You pleaded and squirmed, a thick layer of fear on your skin, until you felt something shoved in your mouth.

As your teeth bore down on the object, a sweet taste entered your mouth.

It was an apple.

“Keep this in your mouth, and not a sound out of you.” He hissed, rubbing his tip against your soaked cunt. You whimpered, your head falling dejectedly onto the desk as you waited. Toji sinks into your entrance, a groan resonating from his chest. He doesn’t even give you time to adjust before he’s moving you onto his shaft, his hips snapping into you aggressively. Your cries are muffled around the crisp red fruit as you bite even harder, tears pricking your eyes as the pain slowly morphs into a rush of pleasure.

“This is all your fucking fault.” Toji snaps, watching your cunt cream around him. “I wouldn’t have done this if you weren’t such a slut, tempting me like a fucking whore.” His hair sticks to his face, lips upturned into a sneer as he plows you into the wobbling desk, pens and other writing utensils rolling off and scattering to the floor.

“Look at you, bent over my desk with an apple in your mouth, like the fucking pig you are.” Toji’s insults made tears stream down your face, but your cunt betrayed you by squeezing him more. So many things wrong with this picture, yet it all felt right. The way he forced you to feel every inch of him, stretching out your tight walls that wanted to milk him dry.

“You like that?” He hummed, your whimpers struggling to be heard. “You like when I call you a pig? That’s what you fucking are; a homewrecking slut.” The wet sound of slapping skin filled the room, along with the occasional sound of Toji slapping your bruised ass. You felt absolutely filthy, enjoying being used for his pleasure and his alone.

“You like the attention, don’t you?” Toji groaned, his cock aching at how plush your walls felt rubbing against him. “Aren’t you supposed to be smart? But here I am, fucking this cunt stupid.”

Your cunt contracted as your body squirmed, trying to run away from his intoxicating touch. The knot in your stomach seemed to knot every muscle of your body, your hips jerking aggressively as you orgasm without his approval. Your cunt flutters around him aggressively, as a wave of pleasure causes you to bite down hard on the apple, a piece remaining in your mouth as the rest of the fruit rolls away and onto the floor with a heavy thud. You heaved uncontrollably, lewd noises leaving your mouth as Toji paused for a second to catch his bearings.

He knew that hearing your sweet sounds of pleasure would cause him a premature orgasm, the sweet song you sung now below him even more heavenly than he could imagine. Feeling his stomach turn, he kisses his teeth and flips you over on your back. He needed just a little more time, just a bit more warmth before he let you go. He missed this feeling, and since he has now found it in you, he wanted to hold onto you a bit longer.

Toji hushes you by swooping down and capturing your lips. His thrust turns sloppy as you two moan in each other's mouths. He continues to thrust into you, more carefully this time as his hips stutter. Your moans begin to pitch as he deepens the kiss, his tongue swirling inside your mouth. You bring your tied wrists up and over his head, clinging onto his as wetness dusted your face.

“Oh God, fuck, fuck, fuck-!” Toji mumbled against your plump lips, his large body encasing you. You wrap your ankles around his waist, meeting his thrust as best you can, your clit throbbing from overstimulation. Toji begins nibbling on your bottom lip, his pace slowing down ever so slightly. He couldn’t look at you right now, his eyes screwed shut as your noses grazed each other in the most intimate way. Toji thought that maybe if he didn’t look, then this would all go away. The feeling of how close he was, the feeling of his heart being mended back together again, or this feeling of closeness. If there was any way to be closer to you right now, he sure as hell was trying as he jammed his tongue down your throat, burying himself deeper into your cunt.

“I’m gonna cum inside, yeah?” His thrust became unsteady as he felt himself come undone. He wasn’t asking, nor was he telling. It was more of a demand than anything, and you were too blissed out to properly answer.

Toji’s hips staggered as he kissed you one last time, seeing stars as his hips stilled. His groan is stifled in your mouth as you also orgasm, your cunt draining every last bit of his seed. Toji slowly pulls away from you, you bottom lip in his teeth as you both let out shaky breaths. He lets go, your lip snapping back to place you both catch your breaths, your breast pressed against his chest as you breathe in unison.

Toji then begins chewing on something crunchy, and you notice the piece of apple that was once in your mouth is gone. You run your tongue along your mouth, surprised at his handiwork. Toji smirks, chewing on the piece.

“Open.” He says.

Without questioning him, you open your mouth. He lets the chewed up apple drizzle into your mouth, the tangy fruit dancing on your tongue as you swallow it.

Toji looks at you with pure wonder, his heart thumping loudly. He shakes his head, chuckling to himself, placing his forehead against yours.

“What am I going to do with you?”

He sits up, exiting you suddenly, and you wince, your pussy still throbbing. Toji begins putting on his clothes in a rush, carefully tucking his flaccid length into his boxers. The ruffle of clothing aided the slight sting in the air as you both crashed back to reality.

“So, what’s next?” You mumble, interjecting into the newfound awkwardness. Toji pauses to look at you in disbelief, mid-clothed. He scoffs, going back to buttoning up his shirt. After, he unties your hands to wrap his tie back around his neck. He bends down, tossing your once discarded clothes to you as you sit cold on his desk.

“Next?” Toji questions. “There is no ‘next’.” He shrugs his jacket over his wrinkled shirk, looking away from you. “This was a mistake to begin with.”

Ouch.

I mean, you knew that. You knew it was wrong. But you didn’t expect to feel so abandoned afterward. You weren’t looking to be coddled like a child, but for him to so easily scrap you to the side? Especially during the last few moments, it felt as if he actually cherished the forbidden time he shared with you. His touches seemed softer, arms more welcoming. How you got into this situation was odd, but in those last sweet moments it felt just the opposite.

“You can’t just say that…” You swallowed back the hurt that seemed to swarm you. “You can’t…”

“And why can’t I? What, you think I love you now or something? Just because you let me nut in you?” He spits, fury dusted across his expression. You flinched back as move towards you, but he reached into his drawer, rattling around for something specific. He then snatches out a silver band, studded with diamonds. He tosses it on his desk and it clatters, echoing through the room.

“I’m fucking married. I have a son. That person who walked in…that was my fucking son.”

Your heart drops into your stomach as you feel bile rise in your throat. This was beyond anything you bargained for. You clutch your clothes to your chest, feeling cold. You begin to get choked up, covering your mouth with the back of your hand.

“Oh.” Is all you can manage. He didn't share that information with you, nor his students.

“Yeah, oh.” Toji repeats. He runs his hands through his hair, gripping it in a moment of insanity. “Shit!” He yells, and you jump on the desk. You get up, facing away from him and begin putting on your clothes. You needed to go as quickly as possible, you just needed to get the hell out of there.

“Why are you acting like I was the only person who did this, huh?” You ask, clasping your bra. “It takes two people to fuck, Toji! You can’t just be mad at me!” You cry out. This was unfair, the way he was treating you. You wanted him to at least shoulder some of the guilt.

Toji throws you a wild look, his eyes blown. “Do not put this on me.” He aggressively says in a low tone. “This is your fault, you came onto me…not the other way around. I didn't ask for this.”

“You’re such a fucking dick.” You wretch, getting close to his face.

“That you decided to fuck.”

You glowered back, pacing as Toji pulled a pack of cigarettes out of his jacket pocket, along with a lighter. He takes out a stick, shoving it between his lips as he strikes the lighter. A warm yellow flame emits, lighting the small stick. He takes a drag, exhaling a thick cloud of gray. You glare at him. How could he act like this after what had just ensured? Did this man have no remorse?

“You’re not supposed to smoke on campus.” You mutter. Toji scoffs.

“So now you’re concerned with the rules?”

Touché.

You laugh, not a laugh of humor, but a laugh of pure irony. “I can’t believe I gave myself to you like that…” You exhale, staring at the man. “Do I at least get to pass this stupid fucking class?”

Toji squints at you, before giving you a humorless laugh. He takes one more drag from his cigarette, exhaling silently.

“Get the fuck out of my classroom.”

[lalunanne]

op your arts college au hit me like a truck i think im in love with it, does dazai compose new tunes for chuuya ? and the same with chuuya practicing new moves, i feel like they'd come up with the most beautiful shit everytime

anon tysm for asking I have so many hcs for this au but i’m going to try to answer just this question lol

so initially they were both doing their own thing, dazai was dubbed a musical prodigy in his early childhood and chuuya has been steadily making a name for himself in the dance community, he already has people wanting to hire him for professional shows etc etc

when they meet (or reunite bc ive got it stuck in my head that they were childhood friends that got separated) they can’t stand each other and they manage to be extremely competitive somehow even though their skills are completely different, but after a while of pretending to hate each other and getting to know each other (and eventually admitting they might like each other enough to make out and go on dates and stuff) they do end up working together.

chuuya dances to dazai’s pieces and everyone says that nobody can capture the essence of dazai’s music the same way that chuuya can (bc most of dazai’s pieces are expressions of himself and chuuya knows dazai better than anyone) and dazai even makes songs specifically for chuuya, taking into consideration chuuya’s mentality, form, and dancing style. they become the power couple of the music industry

[sugirandom]

I posted 482 times in 2022

11 posts created (2%)

471 posts reblogged (98%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@aisuryuu

@eiledon

@the-stray-liger

@handageddon

@leviathans-tail

I tagged 88 of my posts in 2022

#lol - 9 posts

#references - 3 posts

#sugi rambles - 3 posts

#ooh - 2 posts

#cool - 2 posts

#yeah - 2 posts

#aisuryuu - 2 posts

#lols - 2 posts

#i see what you did there - 1 post

#but yeah there's a shit ton of kids piloting these things - 1 post

Longest Tag: 120 characters

#the fact that professional voice actors who've been in the field for years are getting taking advantage of is disgusting

My Top Posts in 2022:

#5

ughh, I’ve gotten what I’m officially dubbing an allercold. That moment when allergy symptoms practically mimic a cold...and I haven’t been able to do auditions since Thursday. It affected recording for FOBG too...so here’s hoping with rest, liquids, and medicine I can kick this to the curb soon! It’s odd because i haven’t experienced this since I was in Japan last...and at that point I’m sure it was because of not being adjusted to Japanese pollen...I guess this time it’s that mix of leaves and rain plus dusty heat vents...ughhh

It is cute though how Gabe meows at me whenever I cough...in almost a worried/annoyed way. Poppy will be here briefly just to pack and I have to pick up a prescription but other than that I’ll be at home alone for the next few days so at least there’s that.

2 notes - Posted October 31, 2022

#4

Six characters: Gino Weinberg, Shirley, Rivalz, Milllie, Nunnaly, Lloyd Asplund

Oooh, I wasn’t expecting to get Code Geass characters! This will be fun but also a bit difficult

Push off a cliff: I guess I’m going with Shirley this time, I really did like her as a character even though she could be annoying and was certainly more self-centered so I don’t need to set her on fire in a fit of rage or anything.

Kiss: Gino Weiberg, one of the only two characters you wrote out the full name of lol. It’s probably due to his interactions with Suzaku but he seems like he’d be fun to hang out with and at least kiss. I don’t know if I’d want to get too close though, poor boy probably has a lot of trauma being a Knight of the Round.

Marry: Millie, She’s super loyal and also a pretty chill person so I feel like we’d be pretty compatible overall.

Set on Fire: I always hate this choice, I guess I’m not sadistic enough lol... anyway, Lloyd just by default lol. I don’t really hate him even though he’s probably partially responsible for a lot of trauma done to Suzaku but I mean he’s doing his job? So, yeah sorry about that Lloyd...

Wrap a blanket around: This was a tossup, I was originally going to say Rivalz but then I decided I wanted to room with him so I’m going with Nunnally.

Be Roommates with: Rivalz, I mean if he can tolerate Lelouch he can tolerate me and he’s a pretty cool and generally under appreciated guy!

3 notes - Posted January 27, 2022

#3

Tomorrow and Sunday my best bro and I are headed to a gaming convention

The one I mentioned previously on here...ha ha, yeah we’re going even though it was last minute but we can’t go today cause best bro has work. So yeah, it’s my first convention in three years so...I’m looking forward to it! 

4 notes - Posted June 24, 2022

#2

My new voice acting website is (mostly) finished

Go and visit it if you get the chance:

http://kevinwilsonvoiceactor.com/

My avatar was done by my talented friend @aisuryuu who also contributed the avatars for our Gaming Youtube Channel (FromOurBasementGaming), highly recommend them if you need any commissions done.

On my website you can hear some demos of various voice over styles, more will be added as I make more but you can get a general feel of what I sound like from them. If you happen to need any voice over work that I’d be good for feel free to contact me and we can discuss it!

Thanks for taking the time to look at my self-promo! Please don’t hesitate to contact me, I need some work for life and portfolio building and all that stuff.

6 notes - Posted March 11, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

This weekend I’ll be attending AnimeUSA

This is the first time in three years that I’ve gone to this convention (my best bro is going with me) so I’m pretty excited!

9 notes - Posted October 13, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

[hydrachea]

When Red Like Roses 2 kicked in in the latest UBW Abridged episode, oh my GOD.

[yandere-romanticaa]

Warnings, nsfw, gynecologist! Albedo, Fem! s/o, abuse of authority and power, a bit of misogyny, Albedo just being a massive perv! Is this dub con or non con? I dunno the difference?

Tagging @albedosangel bc you love this boy and @cinnamonest because you know your shit when it comes to this stuff and I'm super inexperienced with this ;)

I've been having thoughts about this AU and I can totally see Albedo pulling a nasty stunt like this! Maybe he's a still college student or he's a full fledged and respected doctor, everyone in his field knows him. He's already so good looking, of course all the ladies know him! It's not uncommon for a few more unruly patients to try getting into his pants but he always puts them all in their places, keeping the relationship purely professional. All of those other women are just patients in his eyes, or just scantily clad whores that are just begging to get some attention of the opposite sex, even if they do profusely deny it. "I don't need a man" they say, "I can take care of myself, I'm just doing this so I can have some fun!" he hears them screech every single day behind his office walls.

Liars, the lot of them.

He sighs to himself daily, pinching the bridge of his nose as his blue eyes flare up in frustration as he angrily scribbles down notes in his notebook.

None of those disgusting women could ever compare to his favorite little patient, not a single one.

You're different than them, you're so much better and prettier, can't you see that? Can't you feel him staring at you, how his eyes hungrily eat up every little nook and cranny he possibly can? How he always touches you, but you always brush it off as just him just doing his job?

How cute, how naive of you.

He wants to devour you.

Don't be surprised if he starts telling you to come for a check up almost daily, him telling you in that monotone voice of his that you're not healthy, your period flow is too heavy, amongst other things. You do your best to reassure him that it's fine, that this flow is normal for you but he always gives you that look of his, that look that always leaves your throat dry and body sweaty. He knows what's best, he's the doctor right? Therefore, be a good little patient and listen to him, don't be stupid and go looking up crazy things on the internet, who knows what you'll come across? You're so impressionable good grief, he really needs to spell everything out for you doesn't he?

You lie down on the table as per usual, but something feels off about him today. The intensity in his eyes is hard to ignore, and his normally bored voice has this sort of edge to it. He practically commands you to spread your legs, his eyes never blinking as he stares at your half naked body. You're so close next to him, you can feel his cold, gloved fingers nearing your entrance, but he's so slow with it, it almost feels sensual.

Out of instinct, you try and shut your legs but you can feel his shoulders keeping them in place, trapping you in your current pose. He tells you to stay still, to trust him, he's your doctor for goodness sake, he knows what he's doing...

You gasp when you feel his fingers inside of you, his gaze never leaving you alone.

Your future check ups will be a little more messed up from this day forward.

This all your fault you know. He likes cute little things, you shouldn't have tempted him like this. You were so easy to take too, and he finally took his chance.

[ill-skillsgard]

Do you still write dubcon?

this just came to me an early morning and I hope you can write something hot about it.

Being a client to Dane and you are scared and naive and he is charming and intelligent so he gets you to do all kind of nasty things with him. And please some ddgl on that!

I do. If anything I'm uncomfortable with writing changes, I'll always update my FAQ. You can check it out if you're unsure.

Also, I've really been into Dane lately, and this concept is naughtyyyy. I love it! Thank you, anon, for sending it over. Warning: 18+ smut, daddy kink, a sexually coercive situation, dub-con(ish) themes, mentions of spousal cheating.

You broke down in your lawyer's office after weeks of pretending everything was fine. It was a wonder how you'd made it this far without so much as shedding a tear, but something Dane said had pulled the trigger.

When you dropped your face in your hands, racked with sobs, Dane shot up from his seat behind the desk and went to your comfort. His hands touched your shoulders, and the sensation of a man's touch made your tears burn hotter.

"Hey, hey, sweetheart. Don't cry. Please, please don't cry. What did I say?"

You wiped your nose, and Dane pulled away to give you breathing space. "It's just... After what he did to me, I didn't think I'd ever hear someone say that again."

"Say what?"

"That I'm...I'm pretty."

Dane's heart, battle-hardened from a life of practicing law, turned buttery and soft. He offered out his hand, and you took it, not expecting him to pull you from the chair. He wrapped you in his arms, and suddenly your tear ducts dried up. It was peculiar standing there with your lawyer's arms around your shoulders, face pressed against his chest.

"Don't be silly. You might have made a mistake marrying that monster, but you're not dumb. You know you're beautiful."

"Stop it."

"It's true."

"No, really. Stop saying that."

Dane released you from his arms, and you propped yourself on the desk, arms locked, head starting to spin.

"This is inappropriate."

Dane tightened the knot of his tie. "You're right. I'm sorry. That was highly unprofessional. I just don't like seeing undeserving women down and out. It's a real shame."

The lawyer's sympathy dissolved as quickly as it arose. He sat and templed his hands on the desk.

"I hate to bring up the matter of money during such a sensitive time, but unfortunately, it's necessary. My retainer fee. Five thousand."

The topic of finances was a sore spot, and you longed for Dane's initial warmth instead of the cold, pale green eyes measuring your reactions across the desk. The divorce had your thoughts shuffled, your anxiety high, and your logic shredded. Money-talk fanned the embers of a fire that had consumed you for the last few months, cracking your marriage and your self-esteem. Though Dane remained on topic, the thought of your cheating ex-husband dragged up every little nail and pin that had been sticking in your sides and pushed them in again. Now, your savings would spiral down the drain, and the lawyer had gone from good guy to detached professional in a snap. Was it that easy for men to turn off in your presence? Had Dane's first reaction been a farce just like your marriage, a manipulation tactic to get the better of you? It was difficult to tell with flaring emotions singing your brain.

"You're crying again. Stop."

"I'm sorry," you sniffled and sat down. "It's just... I'm afraid of what this process will do to my savings account."

Dane clicked his tongue like an admonishing parent. "Yes, well... That's the reality of these situations. If you want, I'll let you take your leave, and you can hire a public defender. It'll be cheaper, but the quality of work might not be up to snuff given your husband—er, ex-husband's team."

"Great. So, you're suggesting I find myself some second-rate attorney and let that cheating piece of shit destroy the rest of me?"

"No, I'm suggesting you save yourself the trouble of what you'll have to do to afford my payment deferment program."

"What're you talking about?"

"No," Dane leaned back in his chair and propped his shoes on the corner of the desk. "I can't take advantage of you like that. You've been through enough already."

You withdrew, pressed your back to the leather seat and stared down at your hands. Dane hid a half-smirk behind his fist when you locked eyes once again.

"I can give you some references. I know a few good defenders who would be glad to help out a lady in need."

"What did you mean by payment deferral?"

His slight grin grew an inch toward each cheek. "Hm, perhaps I shouldn't have brought that up."

"Please. I'll do anything."

"Don't say anything unless you mean it."

An air of understanding descended on you and the smarmy lawyer across the desk.

"Are you suggesting—?"

"If you want to knock a few thousand off my bill, that's your call."

"How could you say that? It's not my call."

"I won't force anything on you. I'm only giving you a way into my service that won't leave you scrounging for change."

"Are all lawyers this disgusting?"

"Maybe just the clever ones." He wore his self-satisfied smirk more brazenly.

You considered life as it was in that moment, self-worth gone, hope eviscerated. The only person who wanted to help you made stomach-turning suggestions, another man with one thing on his mind. You held onto the scraps of your self-respect, but Dane kicked them away as he pushed out from the desk, angling his body invitingly.

"I meant what I said earlier. Beautiful girls like you don't deserve to be treated like trash. They should be taken care of and honoured."

"Why do you care? It's all about money to you."

"This is my job, you know."

"Then why are you pretending like you care?"

"It's in my nature to care. Why do you think I became a lawyer? I saw good people get the shit end of the stick too many times. Suppose someone always has to, but what if I could make it a little easier for them? Navigate this cruel judicial system for those who don't understand it. Help people."

"Then help me."

"Boy, do I want to, miss. But payment is due for my services. Either in the form of a check or... Some other currency."

You stared down at your lap, and Dane nodded. "Bingo, little lady."

"What do you want me to do?"

"Oh, nothing if you're unwilling."

"Tell me what, and I'll do it."

"Come here then," Dane nodded you over. You walked around the desk, and he spread his legs. As you bent your knees, Dane shook his head. "No, no. Not that. Not yet, at least. Here, have a seat," he patted his thigh. "There you go."

He straightened, snuck his hand around to the small of your back and pressed his palm there.

"You're too pretty to go through this alone. Isn't that how you feel? Alone?"

"Sorta," you said, unable to return eye contact.

"You'll never be alone when you're with me. I'll take care of you and make sure everything works out in your favour."

"Why are you being so nice?"

"I already told you, pretty girl. I've got a soft spot for people who can't help themselves. It's like a paternal instinct thing. And let me tell you something...Once you're under my wing, I'm yours. I'll do anything to protect you. So, are you okay with that?"

"Yeah," you whispered.

"Yeah? That doesn't sound too confident, little girl. I'm gonna need a bit more conviction. Need you to believe it."

"Yes," you repeated. "I'm okay with that."

Dane scooped you in closer, his fingers splaying on your back and thigh. He grasped your hip and pulled you all the way in until you had no choice but to lean on his torso.

"Good. I like to hear that."

The thumping of his chest lulled you, his warmth encircling you like a second skin, a suit of armour. You didn't know this man, but something told you he was trustworthy, that he was a man of his word, and your livelihood was now in his hands. His thumb drew soothing circles on your back as his other hand shifted up your leg.

"You're a good girl, yeah?"

"I want to be."

"That's the first step. You gotta want it."

"I do."

"Good, good. So, what do good girls do?"

"I don't know."

"They do as they're told."

"Oh."

"That's okay. You're learning. But now you know, and if you're ready, we can take this a step further."

"I am. I'm ready."

Dane stroked the back of your neck several times as if you were a cat perched on his leg. The contact soothed your nerves, relaxed your shoulders, and when you closed your eyes, Dane pulled his fingertips farther down between your shoulder blades, tracing your spine from top to bottom.

"Daddy's gonna make it all better."

Your eyes popped open, but you didn't move as the five points lining your spine felt wonderful. It was Dane's lust-slickened voice, and the words it formed that sent a jolt through your tummy. Daddy, you thought. This wasn't the kind of fatherly consolation you associated with a protector. Although, Dane was firm, difficult to refuse, with just the right amount of stoicism to strike fear at the thought of disobedience. He could make a massive difference in your life, and all he wanted was...

While his hands were occupied soothing and stroking your back, another movement against your thigh tore you from contemplation. It was only a slight nudge, but it brought upon a hot wave of zapping nerves. Dane didn't seem to care that his budging hardness shocked you. He leaned in, touched his lips to your neck and whispered, "don't be afraid."

Your bones rattled, and another warm sensation arose between your legs. Dane's arousal became your arousal, and the animal trapped beneath the fabric of his dress pants strengthened.

"You can touch it now if you like."

"Uh, okay."

"Go on, baby."

Without looking, you ran your hand over the swelling material. Dane hummed against your neck.

"Oh, sweetheart. Do you feel that? Feel how hard you make me?"

You nodded, and his fingers crawled beneath your skirt, inching toward your panties but keeping a modest distance. He wasn't quite ready to touch you yet, just as you weren't prepared to unleash the hard-on growing where you sat.

"Your husband is a fucking fool for letting such a pretty girl go. Although, I can't exactly complain because now you're mine, isn't that right?"

"Yes," you said.

"Can you do something real nice for me, baby girl? How about... And feel free to say no, but... I'd love it if you called me Daddy. Is that okay?"

"Okay... I can do that... Daddy."

"Mm, thank you, sweet girl. I love that. Makes my cock so hard. Fuck, I can hardly stand it."

Dane adjusted in his seat, swivelling his hips, so his member rested to the side more comfortably. In this position, the protruding tip pressed heavier against your thigh. You palmed it a couple of times, and Dane's eyes fluttered shut, the dimple on his chin becoming more pronounced as he clenched his teeth and sucked in a smooth breath through his nose. You then noticed how every angle of his face lent itself to a complex geography of elegance. His dark lashes, upturned nose, rosy lips and skin were more appetizing than you first noticed. It made you want to kiss him, and when you did, Dane giggled against your mouth.

"Aw, baby. Aren't you just the cutest thing? Love your sweet kisses." Dane nuzzled your noses together. "I could eat you up."

"Thank you, Daddy."

"But what I really want right now is for you to keep teasing Daddy's cock. I wanna be dripping by the time you get on your knees for me."

"Like that?" You asked, rubbing him through his pants again.

"Try that, but instead, use your hips. Grind on my lap, baby. I love it."

Dane leaned back in his chair and watched you tilt your pelvis back and forth, creating warm friction as you rolled over his erection. He purred and nodded, urging you on with blazing eyes full of approval.

"That's my good girl. So nice."

You rocked against him a moment longer until Dane held you still and looked up with glittering eyes. He pulled you into a kiss, and when he released you, a smile crossed his face.

"Now, do it a bit more, but I want you to take off my pants."

You slid onto the floor, feeling the heat of his stare as you unlaced his wingtips and pulled the shoes off his feet. Dane helped by tilting his hips forward so you could unbuckle his belt and pull his pants down to his ankles. The reveal was more than you expected. His boxers were taut from his pressing erection. Your eyes travelled his long legs. He offered his hand and helped you back up and sat you on his lap once more.

You went to work grinding until Dane loosened his tie and pulled his arms from his jacket. The more clothing he shed, the hotter you felt between your legs and on your cheeks. Dane stopped you, and his member throbbed.

"How are you with sucking cock?"

You blushed. "I'm okay with it."

"Will you suck mine?"

"Yes, Daddy. I will."

"I love to hear that, honey. Go on. Show me what you got."

Your mindset quickly changed when you knelt on the carpet and Dane pushed down his boxers. You wondered how long this meeting was supposed to be—if somebody could walk in and catch you sucking off your lawyer, whether Dane was telling the truth about protecting you with everything he had. How many other women had come to him in similar predicaments only to find themselves throat deep on his cock? Were you special like he said? Though these questions rang in your head, you didn't let them deter from the enthusiasm you put into pleasuring the man. After all, Dane was gorgeous, and his manhood was just as appealing as you had presumed. And the noises escaping Dane's lips spurred you on. His humming and purring, every time he called you baby girl and combed your hair back. It wasn't the worst experience you'd had of late.

Soon, Dane hungered for something else and bade you stand and walk with him to the loveseat in the corner of the room. He made you undress for him slowly, and he stripped naked as well.

"You wanna fuck me, baby? Wanna fuck your Daddy?"

Something broke inside of you. The cool air perked your nipples. Dane stretched his legs out, cock at attention, still shimmering with your saliva. All your trepidations dashed with one look, and you climbed onto his lap and sank.

"Aren't I the luckiest man alive to have that pretty pussy all wet around my dick? Fuck, honey, I don't know if I can last long."

That was a lie. Dane had immediate control and a seemingly never-ending reservoir of energy. Your activities took you from the loveseat to the floor, where he flipped you on all-fours and pounded you from behind. Then Dane bent you over the broad desk, whispering in your ear how good you were for him and how he couldn't wait to fill you with cum, but not yet. The phone rang, and he ignored it. Once a bright midday blue, the sky outside the window turned a deep shade of orange. He lasted long after you felt the pull of exhaustion in your muscles.

It got to a point you asked if he would come soon, and Dane took hold of your neck.

"Why, baby? Are you done with my cock now? Have you had enough?"

"No, Daddy. I'm sorry."

"Oh, I know it's starting to hurt. Daddy's just so greedy. I don't want this to end... Unless..."

"Unless what, Daddy?"

"Unless you promise you'll come back to me and we can do this again? 'Cause I'm not done with you."

"I promise," you whimpered.

"Good. I'm gonna work for you, honey. Don't worry. I'll get your money. I'll give you a lot more than that too. We'll make sure that son of a bitch regrets what he did to you every damn day of his life."

"Yes! Yes, please, Daddy."

"I promise you, baby girl. You're mine 'n I'm gonna take real good care of you. We're gonna destroy that piece of shit. Nobody fucks with my beautiful girl."

[seijorhi]

Meet the Parents

Not including the original anon (who was asking about Ushijima & Tendou) no less than four of you asked for a meet the parents scenario for each of the soulmate AU’s so...

TW implied dub/non-con

(Atsumu & Osamu’s will be posted tomorrow whoops 👉👈)

Outrunning Fate - Ushijima & Tendou

It begins with a phone call. Ushijima’s in your kitchen, fixing up the leftovers from the night before and Tendou has you trapped on the couch, long, gangly arms wrapped tight around your waist as he presses sloppy, open mouth kisses to your neck. He doesn’t stop when the phone rings - though you don’t miss the way his eyes narrow or the huff of disapproval that escapes him. He doesn’t like it when your attention wanders.

“Oh, hi dad.” You try to shove Tendou off of you without much success, glaring at him when he laughs and presses closer. “Um, now’s not a good time, can I call you back later?”

It shouldn’t have come as a surprise when Ushijima broaches the subject the next day. “We should meet your parents.”

You almost choke on your own spit. 

“Why?”

It’s Tendou who answers, his grin just a little too wide. “We gotta meet the in-laws at some point!”

A shiver ripples down your spine at the suggestion. They absolutely do not.

“Um, we’re actually not all that close.” A lie. “There’s not really much point. They live a few hours away.” Twenty minutes, actually. “And besides, t-they don’t approve of me having...” you trail off, glancing pointedly at the twins marks on your skin. 

Olive eyes bore into yours for a long, tense moment before they soften just a fraction, and he shrugs. “Okay.”

He tilts your face up into a kiss, and you allow yourself to breathe the tiniest sigh of relief. 

You don’t want them anywhere near your family, especially not when you’re planning to run. 

But it’s hard. Your parents are already worried about you pulling away. You haven’t told them about an of this, you don’t want them involved, but they’re nothing if not persistent. So you promise that you’ll come visit - carefully choosing a day that you know both Tendou and Ushijima will be busy. Skipping a few classes is the least of your troubles. 

You should have learned by now that nothing is that easy where your soulmates are concerned. 

“Babe?” 

You’re sitting on the edge of your bed, waiting for them both to leave when Tendou emerges from the bathroom - your bathroom - shirt unbuttoned, holding out two ties in his hands. 

“Which one do you think’ll go better with my suit - the blue or the red one? I wanna make a good first impression with your dad.” 

And just like that, your hopes of being able to sneak away comes crumbling down around you. 

There’s no use fighting it, not now. 

It’s Ushijima who notices that your hands are shaking as he helps you out of the car he’s parked out front of your parents’ house. He pauses, eyebrows knitting together, his broad thumb brushing against the back of your hand in slow, reassuring strokes. “Tendou will behave, there is no need to worry.”

There’s a subtle quirking of his lips, and you think he might be trying to make a joke, but you can’t focus on that when you feel like you’re going to be sick. The man in question appears at your other side, hooking an arm around your shoulder and dragging you in for a kiss.

“Best behaviour, pinky promise!” he winks, as if he hadn’t spent the better part of the ride over musing about fucking you in you childhood bedroom. 

You would honestly rather shove a needles into your eyes than go though with this, but the front door of your old house is already opening, your mother rushing down the driveway. What else can you do but smile and play along as she throws her arms around you in a tight hug?

They are merciless in front of your parents, or at least Tendou is. From introducing himself to your mother as one of your ‘soon to be husbands’ to whispering all of his perverted little fantasies into your ear whenever their backs are turned. You physically have to clamp down on his wrist when he tries to slide his hand up your skirt while you sit down at the table for lunch. Even then, it takes a low growl from your other soulmate before he truly relents. 

And while your parents gush over Ushijima (a professional volleyball player!) he holds your hand in his, squeezing just a little too tight whenever your smile slips. Neither of them have mentioned the fact that you’d lied to them, and judging from the slow burning heat in Ushijima’s eyes when he glances your way, you can only assume that that punishment is still to come.

You hate having them there. It’s your home, something good and wholesome and safe that their very presence corrupts. You hate listening to your mother coo over how good the three of you look together, the respectful nod your father gives when the conversation inevitably shifts to sports. You hate listening to them tell the story of how you met, warping it to make it sound cute - consensual - but the nail in the coffin is your parents chuckling when Ushijima brings up how stubborn you were initially. 

You quickly excuse yourself to the bathroom, muffling your sobs in one of the big fluffy towels. 

You hate them, you think as you stare into the mirror, wiping the silvery tear tracks from your face, trying to erase all signs of your impromptu breakdown. 

You hate them for making you play along, but you can’t hide in the bathroom forever.

“Oh, sweetheart,” your mother murmurs, cupping your face in her hands as she catches you on your way out. You must be a better actor than you thought, because of instead of the panicked frown you expect as she studies your face, she just smiles warmly at you. “I’m so happy for you. All that worrying, trying to squash it all down and pretend that they didn’t exist... and you finally found them. Honey, you’ve done well for yourself. I can see how much they adore you!”

She glances over to your soulmates chatting with your father, and you follow her gaze, heart sinking. “Yeah,” you manage to reply, offering her a weak smile in return. 

If only she knew.

Like Nobody Else - Oikawa & Iwaizumi

What was the point in setting boundaries you knew would be broken?

After staying behind to watch them practice that first day, you swore that you wouldn’t go back. It didn’t matter that the volleyball club all knew, it didn’t matter that that meant that soon enough the whole school would know - you wouldn’t go back there with them. They could drag you off to go sit with them and their friends at lunch times, ambush you on your way to classes, but you wouldn’t let them fuck you in the locker rooms before hand, and you weren’t going to sit in those stands and pretend that you cared while they ran through endless training drills.

Yet when you shouldered your bag after the final bell the very next day, you only manage to make it a few steps down the hallway before strong hands are yanking it away from you.

“Wrong way, cutie,” Oikawa beams innocently, while Iwaizumi merely lifts a brow when you open your mouth to object. He’s holding your bag, and you have a sneaking suspicion that he won’t give it back until you agree to follow them. 

“Oh my god, he’s carrying her bag for her, they’re literally so sweet!” you hear one girl gush to her friend as the three of you breeze past, and Oikawa reaches across to intertwine his larger hand with yours. 

“Aren’t we just?” he asks you with a charming grin. 

Iwaizumi scoffs, “You’re not carrying jack shit, asshole.”

“Rude, Iwa!”

You don’t say a word. What’s the point?

It doesn’t come as a surprise when they make you stay back with them, long after the rest of the team has gone left. They’re not as rough this time, but your legs still feel like jelly by the time they’re both finished with you. Oikawa still wipes away your tears while Iwa helps you to your feet, pressing a gentle kiss against the crown of your head that makes everything worse.

They walk you home, both taking turns to kiss you goodbye on your doorstep, and you can only thank your lucky stars that your parents are both out so you don’t have to try and explain.

It becomes a routine during the week - on the days that they train you stay back with them and they dutifully escort you home, and on Monday’s when they don’t have practice, you’re either dragged with Oikawa to Lil tykes or forced to join Iwaizumi with whatever he planned on doing. Usually studying, though sometimes he’ll drag Makki and Mattsun (and on occasion, Mad Dog) out to train with him regardless. 

Your weeks belong to them, you’ve resigned yourself to that - but your weekends are yours. 

Or so you’d let yourself believe.

You ignore the text messages that flood your phone one Saturday morning, only for a persistent knocking at your front door to shatter the calm of your weekend only a few hours later. Your better instincts would tell you to ignore it, because you know (or have a good enough idea at least) exactly who’s behind it, but the fear that trickles down your spine urges you forward anyway. They tell you they love you, but you know better than to believe that that means they won’t ever hurt you - that they haven’t already hurt you.

“Hey, cutie. Mind if we come in?”

You don’t know why Oikawa bothers asking, because you barely have time to open your mouth to answer before he’s ducking under your outstretched arm and waltzing inside, Iwaizumi right on his heels.

“You weren’t answering your phone, so we figured we’d come and check up on our pretty girl, right Iwa? We were worried.” 

The latter grunts in acknowledgement, studying at you with narrowed eyes - an expression that makes your stomach flip uncomfortably.

“O-oh, my um, my parents aren’t home...”

The words slip out before you can stop them, and your heart skips a beat as your soulmates share a look, the grin on Oikawa’s face widening. “We’ll be on our best behaviour, we promise.”

But somehow ending up squished between them on the couch in your living room, watching some movie you’re barely paying attention to wasn’t quite what you expected. Sure, Oikawa’s mouthing greedily at your neck, and you haven’t missed the way Iwa’s hand has been slowly creeping up your shirt for the past ten minutes, but considering what you know they’re capable of - you’ll take it.

Yet you can’t force yourself to relax, not with the heat of their bodies pressed so close. You shift in your seat, your hand accidentally grazing against something hard and as you freeze in panic, Iwa stiffens, his breath catching with an audible hiss.

But it’s Oikawa, eyes hooded and wanting, who tilts your chin up to meet his gaze, “Baaaaby-”

You don’t get to hear the rest of that sentence, because at that moment your front door swings open once more, only this time it’s your parents.

There’s a quiet ‘fuck’ growled in your ear as the three of you scramble to right yourselves, your heart beating a mile a minute, feeling very much like a kid caught with your hand in the cookie jar.

Never mind that you didn’t want this - never asked for it.

It’s your mother, mid-way through a conversation with your dad, who steps into the living room first, stilling at the sight that awaits her. Your eyes are wide, hands are clenched into fists in your lap as she stares at you for a painfully long moment, “Sweetheart,” she begins slowly, her voice sounding a little strained, “why are there two strange boys in the house?”

And for one single, shining second, you wonder whether it would be worth the trouble you’d land yourself in if you told her that they’d come over with the intention of hooking up with you - it wasn’t exactly a lie. Oh, your parents would be fuming, but at least you’d be safe in the knowledge that they’d never, ever let either of your soulmates anywhere near the house again. Maybe they might even insist on you changing schools altogether! But before you can actually entertain the thought, Iwa’s reaching across to subtly grab your hand, squeezing it tightly with a warning look. Don’t you dare.

Oikawa, as always, chooses that moment to step in and take control. “Ah, please forgive the rude intrusion, Mrs L/N. I’m Oikawa Tooru, and this is Iwaizumi Hajime, I’m assuming your lovely daughter has mentioned us?”

If you weren’t distinctly aware you’d pay dearly for it later, you might have snorted at that. Your mother frowns, folding her arms across her chest and quirking an eyebrow, but it’s your father, glaring outright at the two interlopers, who replies. “She has not.”

A shiver ripples down your spine at the chilling look Oikawa shoots you out of the corner of his eye. “Huh, I guess our little cutie’s still a bit shy. Well, never mind that. We’re her soulmates, and...”

It doesn’t even matter what the rest of his sentence is. Your parents hear the words ‘soulmates’, look at the two handsome, charming young men either side of you and all but melt. Suddenly it’s warm smiles and welcoming hugs. Your parents are delighted, and all it’s all too easy for both Iwa and Oikawa to slip into the roles they’re expected to play.

They spend almost an hour chatting with the two, and it hurts more than you care to admit when you look up into your mother’s beaming face and she gives you a wink. This is all she’s ever wanted for you - two handsome, strong boys to take care of her little girl. You can’t break her heart with the truth, you can only sit there quietly as they gush over you, pretend that it doesn’t make your skin crawl when Oikawa looks at you with those soft, adoring eyes and tells your dad that from the moment you spoke to him, they both knew they loved you.

‘Why won’t you two just leave me the hell alone?!’

Eventually your parents leave the three of you alone, letting you go back to your movie, and only then can you let that facade slip.

“Well that went better than expected,” Iwaizumi states, dragging you back down to settle on the couch with him, Oikawa plopping down on your other side and pulling you close.

He hums in agreement, a glint of something mischievous dancing in his eyes as he traces a single finger up your side. “Of course it went well. What’s not to love?”

[pallasperilous]

Boneless Wings

 {AO3 version}

So, blah blah blah, it’s their standard-issue disaster: pack of dumbass witches (always with the dumbass witches. Where do they find the time for this shit? Somebody get these women signed up for a Peloton subscription or a macramé class or a vibrator of the month club, seriously, whatever it takes—), ancient curse, Castiel being the actual angel of stepping in it, nobody cares. 

The point is, two hundred and forty-one hours of binge-worthy drama later, Dean and Cas are living in a semi-detached just a short thirty-minute commute to somewhere equally lame, Castiel has two literal-ass wings, and yes, Susan, they kiss now. 

The neighbors are weirdly cool with it. 

For those of you perving along at home, Dean could absolutely provide a list of the hundred or so ways that having a boyfriend* with giant fucking actual wings is super hot and/or awesome.

This is not that list.

(*you can just shut right the fuck up , Sam, because it’s either this or Dean will start saying lover. And nobody needs that. Nobody wants that.)

1.  Bird mites. Holy shit. 

 2.  Sharing a bathroom. The shower curtain rod, and consequently the security deposit, are early casualties. The medicine cabinet follows swiftly behind. Shower hijinks are not even an option.

 3.  Dean comes home one day from a gig and there is a giant plastic green turtle in the backyard. A closer inspection reveals that the turtle is actually a mule for about half a truck bed of industrial dust ‘n grit. It is, in fact, a kiddie sandbox. Dean points out that they do not, in fact, have a small child (FINGERS CROSSED), so...?

Cas then earnestly shows him an entire playlist of exotic birdy dust bath videos on Youtube. 

Dean then earnestly shows him the garden hose. 

4.  The down just gets, like...everywhere. EVERYWHERE. How many times have Sam and Dean practically sold their kidneys for a single angel feather for some dumb spell to solve some pointless Occult McProblem? And now Dean is picking them out of his damn teeth every morning. (No, gross, not because of... Jesus, no, that is not a thing.)

On the upside of this one, Dean finally has an excuse to buy a Dyson, which he’s secretly always thought looked awesome. It is. 

 5.  When Dean is scraping out the umpteenth canister of fluff he jokingly suggests they use some of it to supplement the tragically flaccid down comforter currently shaming their bed, and Castiel pitches an existential fucking sulk. Dean wants to experience happiness again, so he does not point out that it get ass-bitingly cold here this time of year, and decent bedding is not exactly inexpensive, and the Dyson kind of maxed them out on household purchases.

But whatever.

 6.  Castiel is indulging in what Dean thinks of as a sky pout when he flies right into a head-on with li’l Timmy NextDoor’s new Christmas surveillance drone. It dings the shit out of one of Cas’s left primary feathers (the scientific term is “those big motherfuckers”), which apparently hurts like a bitch. Cas is grounded for a few weeks after that and is cutely pathetic about it and at first Dean is absolutely down to kiss it better. By the end, Dean is almost ready to strangle Cas with his own necktie, but he has learned a lot of surprisingly interesting stuff about ancient Mesopotamia, like that it was super horny.

 7.  After the snow melts, Dean starts finding shit on the front step with the morning paper. It’s not even a good newspaper; Cas signed them up for the local fish-wrapper (or maybe it was Sam, before he fled for the hills— he occasionally breaks out in a  “support local journalism” rash). The crossword puzzle is insulting, but the paper does at least syndicate Carolyn Hax, whom Dean secretly suspects of being an absolute wildcat in the sack, so he grudgingly expends the calories to bring it in every morning. 

Anyway, at first the stuff he discovers crapping up the welcome mat is just shiny bits of trash — couple granola wrappers, some MGD pull-tabs, a few field-stripped twisty-ties. Probably just windblown, and he tosses it in the garbage can. 

Then a couple weeks in, things start getting...grisly? It escalates real slowly, from a variety platter of mouse bits to squirrel à la power line and then half of a dry-aged raccoon and an opossum that has recently graduated from playing dead to professional dead-being. The neighborhood crows obviously love that their front step is now a roadkill café; Dean has to bat increasing numbers of them away with the kitchen broom in order to relocate their horrible snack to the edge of the nearest storm drain.

Then one morning there are like twenty crows and they’re in just the cutest little football huddle-up around what turns out to be a human fucking finger with a retro-fun mood ring still on the knuckle (it’s feeling: Sad) and Dean fully loses his shit. 

Cas hears him freaking out and comes whomping out of the garage ready to, whatever, flap somebody to death maybe, but as soon as he establishes that Dean doesn’t need anything more than a fresh pair of boxers, he de-poofs a bit and assesses the whole human finger/crows situation in his usual infuriatingly unrushed way. The crows had mostly bounced up to the cable line over the house, safely out of brooming range, but one by one they start to drop down and hippity-hop back towards the world’s tiniest crime scene.

If Dean were five percent less freaked he’d be tempted to go inside and find out how much of a dent he can make in a six-pack before Castiel finally dings and spits out his results, but he isn’t, so he just stands there in silence clutching the broom like it’s a shotgun.

Eventually Cas says “hm,” and then he looks at the crows and makes some noises that sound like a spoon caught in a garbage disposal, and the crows make some scrawps and chuks back, and then one of them delicately noodges the tip of dead finger with its beak and then hippity hops back a foot or two, bows, and then they all fly away over the shitty little beige duplex across the street like they’re running ten minutes late to an important bird appointment.

Castiel stands up (Dean reflexively backs up into the doorway, as this involves Cas bomfing out his wings a bit for ballast and Dean has caught a blow to the nuts on more than one occasion), dusts off his goddamn slacks, pulls a plastic evidence baggie out of thin goddamn air or maybe his socks, and casually bags the finger like they’re doing a standard FBI wheeze. “So what,” Dean says, as Cas diligently zips the baggie, “the fuck?”

“Oh,” Cas says, blinking in surprise that Dean is still there and interested, “they think I’m their god.”

Dean kind of stares back at him, the six feet of dude and like sixteen feet of bird, and thinks sure, okay, but his face must still be stuck on “Tippi Hedren attic scene” because Cas puts a reassuring hand on Dean’s shoulder and adds “Don’t worry. I’ve told them I don’t require further offerings, and I reassured them that you’re my consort and were simply jealous of other potential mates.”

It takes Dean two weeks to come up with a response to that, but by then it’s become evident that no bird is ever going to shit on the Impala again, so he decides to just chalk it up in the win column and move on.

You know. The family business.

8.  No matter how tightly he folds them, Cas can’t fit his wings through the definitely-not-up-to-code doorway of the wood-paneled family rec room in the basement, so Dean claims it as his man cave and dubs it the “No Fly Zone.” 

Castiel doesn’t find this funny, but Dean really only uses it to fold laundry. 

 9.  Transpo is an obvious issue. Cas can almost stuff himself into the Impala if he sort of reverse-cowgirls the back seat, but then the wingtips smoosh up against the windshield and Dean’s visibility is approximately zip. And, sure, Cas could fly himself anywhere they really needed to go, he’s basically a Chevy Of The Air, but sometimes it’s raining, and the seraph Castiel — Shield of God, Heavenly Soldier of the Lord, multidimensional wavelength of celestial intent, will smell like a wet fucking chicken for days afterward. Febreze does not help.

Dean spends a few nauseating weeks contemplating the purchase of — and here he learns that the human gag reflex can be conditioned, but never truly eradicated — a convertible. Once Cas brings up the possibility of a minivan or perhaps a station wagon (he’s taken to studying family motor vehicles with all the intensity of a birder with a life list) and Dean makes him sleep on the couch.

Dean gets his own living room rotation after he shows Cas a Craigslist posting for a very reasonably priced horse trailer. Castiel points out that it’s used and Dean notes that neither of them is exactly mint in original packaging either. Castiel points out that he’s not a horse, and after a few necessary but admittedly unoriginal jokes, Dean pulls up a website with an exhaustive photographic tutorial on how to convert a horse trailer “for the safe and sanitary transport of ostriches, emus, and/or cassowaries.” Cas points out that he’s not an ostrich, emu, and/or cassowary, and Dean counters that he clearly isn’t, because an emu would probably show a little more gratitude, and that’s how Dean learns that the couch has a broken spring under the left cushion. The transpo issue remains unresolved.

 10.  Dean keeps a pair of shop-grade safety goggles by his side of the bed. It’s not the sexiest look, but it turns out feathers are stabby as hell when encountered at a particular angle. Cas can do the healy thing, of course, but they learn the hard way that cornea perforation is not really a mood enhancer. On the bright side, Castiel accidentally corrects Dean’s incipient presbyopia, which means Dean doesn’t have to hold the newspaper at arm’s length anymore when he’s idly speculating what Carolyn Hax looks like below the neck. The Lord giveth and the Lord taketh away.

 11.  You’d think that, when you’re coming down from a time-limited but incurable curse that makes you feel like every cell of your body has its own cute little individual headcold — because you missed a hex bag due to the fact that you were preparing your legal response to Sam turning up to the hunt wearing a goddamn hair scrunchy, as if he were fresh off the set of a very special episode of Clarissa Explains It All — anyway, you’d think that being wrapped in the warm embrace of an angel’s wings would be nice. 

But you would be wrong, because apparently your boyfriend has been out communing with the bees again, and those feathers pick up ragweed pollen like it’s their goddamn job, and guess what else angels can’t cure? Dean will take Motherfucking Seasonal Allergies for 600, Alex. 

12a.  One of the neighbors has that homesteading hippie brain disease that drives an otherwise normal-seeming person to brew their own beer and raise a bunch of chickens despite living within five hundred yards of a fully functioning Hy-Vee. There’s a week where one of the wee little velociraptors seems to be processing some kind of trauma because it starts yelling at dawn and keeps going until well past the hour that swearing is allowed on network TV. 

When Dean finally hammers on the front door the next afternoon the neighbor apologizes with some extremely nasty home-brew (HIPPIES) and some absolutely devastating weed (HIPPIES!) and explains that “Ginger is going through a rough molt” and then he kind of nods his head towards Dean’s side of the fence where Cas is futzing around in the squash plants and stage whispers (this is a direct quote) “You know how they get.”

Dean is about to rip the dude a new one for comparing his immortal space-kaiju lover to a fucking Australorp yard pullet when Castiel pops his head up over the white pickets and breezily contributes “Bad molt, yes, those are terrible, Dean can tell you all about how insufferable I am those weeks,” and sometimes Dean just doesn’t know why he even tries.

 12b.  The less said about angel molt, the better. 

Seriously, the freakin’ eyes-on-his-hands naked mole rat dude from, whatsit, Pan’s Labyrinth of Subtitles, would run screaming from this shit. 

 13.  There’s a 4th of July BBQ Potluck Block Party and Dean’s inability to stand idly by while good meat is abused ( shut up Sam ) means he winds up manning the grill and dismissing the pretenders to set some strictly inedible things on fire. Cas hangs out next to him and uses his flappers to kinda whupf the smoke away from Dean’s eyes now and then, which rules. It’s actually a pretty chill event until Sharon and Don From Number 4267, The Green House With The White Trim, turn up with a giant Pyrex full of naked, still-marinating teriyaki wings. 

Sharon And Don look down at their wings and then up at Castiel and then down at the wings and then up at Castiel and they are clearly teetering on the edge of a Midwestern politeness failure-based nervous breakdown. But then Cas, smooth as a margarine commercial, gently takes the dish from Sharon’s frozen hands, examines the contents for a silent moment, and says “it’s alright. They weren’t personal friends.”

He gets an extra burger for that one.

 14.  Cas keeps absent-mindedly trying to groom Dean — who, in case it still needs to be said at this point, possesses zero-point-zero feathers of his own — so he goes after Dean’s hair, instead. Dean has to stop him after his second hour of trying to straighten out a cowlick. “I don’t understand how you can steer properly with this deformity,” Cas says, as if it’s a genuine miracle that Dean isn’t constantly careening over ottomans like Dick Van Dyke. He’s even more horrified by Dean’s (frankly minimal) use of hair gel. “Jesus, Cas, it’s not like I’m drinking it,” he says, but then one time they have an epic make-out session shortly after Dean performs his masculine beauty rituals and there’s some smearage of various types of Product (tm) on the flappy areas. 

And, sonuvabitch, for the next six hours Cas is spirographing around the house like he has a heavenly inner ear infection, and he only stops veering into the doorframes after Dean wipes down every. Single. Feather. With mineral oil and about eighteen clean shop cloths. Dean switches to something called hair wax, which costs thirty zillion times more per ounce and makes him smell vaguely like church, but is a lot less gloppy. The things we do for love.

 15.  Seating inside the house is a bit of a conundrum, too. Cas can kind of flop his wings out to the sides if he sits in the middle of the couch, but then Dean’s stuck on the recliner, which is basically in the next county. Bar stools are disastrously tippy, Dean’s lower back and hips have not endured mumble-mumble years of hunting just to be subjected to a damn beanbag chair, and, after a brief flurry of optimistic excitement, Dean determines that they’d have to take the front door off to get a massage chair in. He finds a swing online that if, he can get the hardware properly installed in the crossbeam, is rated for up to 500 pounds, so he texts Cas the URL so he can check out the specs. After half an hour he writes back —

CASTIEL: Dean

CASTIEL: I believe this swing is intended for sexual congress.

DEAN: ...

CASTIEL: I can infer from the ellipsis that you have spent several minutes attempting to draft a response.

DEAN: ...

CASTIEL: Dean

DEAN: it’s multipurpose

  16 . On the plus side, though, big-ass wings make for a pretty good drying rack. He can get every sock in the house laid out on those suckers in a single round and, one episode of Dr. Sexy later, they’re perfectly dry and toasty warm, without any of the pair-busting casualties Dean has learned to expect from the apparently socknivorous dryer in the basement. 

Dean assumes it’s just the product of good air circulation and body heat until he realizes that he hasn’t had to toss a pair for being too worn out in...maybe six months? So he asks Cas “Are your wings... healing the socks” and after an entire Abbott and Costello routine centering around heal versus heel, Dean determines that the answer is: yes, his boyfriend’s wings are channeling the almighty power of Heaven to magically repair the socks Dean buys at Target in twelve-pack bags. On sale.

This is actually kind of sexy, if Dean is being perfectly honest, so, you know what? It doesn’t belong on this list.

 16.  So nobody really freaks out or bursts into tears or calls the news or the FBI or anything when Cas goes out in public with him, which Dean is secretly a little disappointed about, because come on. (Maybe giant wings just reads as a gay thing? Was there an episode of Will and Grace about this that Dean missed back when he was ass deep in wendigos or something?)

But no. Dudes tend to just glance at them across the Home Depot parking lot, throw them the Mutual Dude Acknowledgement Nod, and say some shit like “Comic-con,” or “nice anime” in a knowing tone. Then they go back to rolling their carts full of gaskets or hammers or whatever back to their mom’s station wagon. 

Little girls tend to go googly-eyed — Castiel seems to fall into the same category as a Disney princess, despite the stubble and the drabcore wardrobe, and Dean can’t count the number of times some mom has approached Dean at the grocery store (like he’s Castiel’s manager?? Which, okay...yeah, actually) and asked if they do birthday parties. The money would actually be pretty tempting if Dean weren’t five thousand percent sure that Cas would get them both arrested by launching into an anatomy lesson about duck sex or how God is a loser who favors relaxed fit jeans and Wild Turkey.

The worst is white ladies of a Certain Age, and it always seems to happen in the pudding aisle, for some reason. They either go cross-eyed with horniness and become indiscriminately handsy (Dean can’t blame them for the impulse, but also back off, Karen), or ask Cas for prayers for their cat’s chronic asshole problems (which Castiel WILL take seriously). 

Worst of all is when some hippie spinster clocks them. This woman inevitably reaches right for the feathers and asks in a willowy voice if they’d ever consider turning some of them into dreamcatchers to sell at her studio, which is literally always named The Faerie’s Glen. Then Cas gets confused about why, exactly, a sixty year-old WASP in a peasant skirt would need to call on the infant-protection powers of an Ojibwe spider goddess, while Dean just wants to bite the lady’s fingers off. 

Either way, it’s always a bad scene, and many fully loaded grocery carts have been lost to the fallout.

17.  For some metaphysical reason Dean is too dumb to suss out but also too smart to question, lugging a pair of Cessna-sized flappers around this mortal dimension actually seems to tucker Cas out. He doesn’t need to zonk out every night, but he semi-regularly throws in the towel and actually crawls in with Dean for the duration. 

This would be swell in theory, but the guy absolutely cannot settle the fuck down in less than three (3) human hours, which is the exact amount of sleep Dean requires to maintain his famously sunny demeanor. It’s not just ye olde tossing and turning — Dean can handle that, sharing a bed with Sam is like sleeping next to a kangaroo with restless leg syndrome — no, it’s a nonstop parade of little flippy-flappies and shiffle-shuffles and spontaneous outbursts of preening. 

So Dean makes him a Baby Sleep Sack. 

This is something Dean knows about due solely to one super dumb hunt involving a banishing sigil that had to be drawn in — he still feels like this had to be a misprint — human breastmilk, and that was obviously not happening. But the monster of the week wasn’t going to banish itself, so they wound up at the nearest Walmart, at 4am, picking up what turned about to be an unnecessarily generous supply of baby formula, along with a fresh box of shotgun shells because God bless America*. It doesn’t work, although “lots of stabbing” turns out to be a solid fallback plan, but the point is that while Sam was debating between Digestion Support or Neurological Development, Dean acquired an unprecedented familiarity with some of the products currently available to the sleep-deprived parent. So Dean finds some DIY Baby Sleep Sack knockoff patterns online and determines he can replicate and scale up the concept with some beach towels and duct tape, and the next morning he presents the lumpy but totally functional prototype to Castiel. 

Initially Cas thinks it’s a sex thing (reasonable, it probably is), but once they clear up that misunderstanding, he’s obviously a little peeved by the concept of being swaddled as if he were a gassy baby instead of a deathless sky monster in a sexy dude-shaped can. But Dean must be giving off some serious man on the edge vibes because Cas grudgingly agrees to let Dean tape him up the next time he’s feeling dozy. 

It’s real awkward and takes forever to get Cas bundled up right, and then he’s just kind of lying there on top of the sheets, like an enormous, grumpy baked potato. 

“I could easily break out of these restraints,” he says in a pissy tone after Dean has crawled in and turned off the light, and Dean rolls over to tell him “no shit”, but then he has to stop himself because the guy is already asleep.

Eventually they upgrade to a version made out of some of those trendy weighted blanket things, a few yards of parachute silk, and a whole lot of velcro. The dude looks so damn peaceful that Dean is honestly a little jealous.

*he doesn’t, actually. 

 18.  There’s a sunny afternoon that isn’t the usual Kansas is trying to murder you level of humid so Dean rolls the Impala out into the street for a wash. Cas helps him out a bit initially, although tragically not in a way that involves removing any unnecessary articles of clothing, but Deans sends him to grab a new tub of wax from the shed and he never comes back. After half an hour Dean needs a beer break and goes looking for him, expecting to find Cas lost in thought over whether Turtle Wax is made of actual turtles, or is made to put on actual turtles. Instead he finds Cas crouched on the shimmering pavement at the back of the driveway, sun beating down on him like it has a personal vendetta, and he’s got both wings stretched out real low above the ground. Dean kind of flips out because it’s the type of pose that just screams “stabbed in gut by angel blade” or “migraine from Hell, literally.”

Then Cas looks up, which pulls his wings up a smidge too, which in turn reveals that fully half a dozen neighborhood cats are lounging in the shady patch beneath his wings, spread out on the concrete like blobs of furry peanut butter. No, it’s actually eight cats. There are eight cats.

“Ling-Ling was feeling a little overheated,” Cas says, as if this explains everything. 

And, you know what, at this point, it does.

 19.  Dean has faith that eventually Sam or Cas or the third demon from the left in the second row will turn up a solution for the whole business. Castiel will get to tuck those bad boys back into the secret wing-closet dimension and he won’t have to worry about getting stuck in stairwells anymore, or being reported to the FAA (again). Then they can finally pack up the house, plaster over the more egregious spots of drywall damage, and go back to killing things outside of the tri-county area. The whole thing has been a pretty embarrassing interlude for a couple of dudes who’ve kicked Satan’s ass multiple times — Sam is probably telling other hunters that they’ve been deep undercover to take out a nest of suburban vampires, or a pack of ghouls with mortgages, instead of vacuuming angel down out of the AC unit and considering a Costco membership. 

And sure, there have been some...serious pluses to the situation (see: the other list), but, in his weaker moments, Dean has to admit that he’s kind of going to miss some of the goofy, irritating shit, too — like finding a six-inch feather in the veggie crisper (how? why?), or watching Cas fwap his wings out just in time to accidentally clothesline a jogger, or even the strangely compelling, sorta cheesy smell that starts to float around the house if Cas goes a little too long between hosedowns. 

He has actually grown fond of this shit. Which is 100% the least sexy thing on earth, it’s some genuinely, seriously pathetic goo goo crap, and that’s why nobody will ever hear a fucking word about it. People will ask “so what’s it like, with the wings” and Dean will waggle his eyebrows suggestively and review the highlight reel over an inadvisable amount of rail whiskey. His secret’s safe with, well. Him.

 20.  Seriously though, the bird mites. 

Gross.

[abunchofraccooons]

Yk what

fuck it

PROJECT IDEA RANTTTT

Ok so the first idea which ive admittedly had for awhile

Is making videos based off of the Gregaverse Creators Shinanigians series 

Little edit like things where the comic is the same nothings changed except for instead of a comic its a little video

However i have 21 left to do and there are 25 in total so doing them all will take a bit of work but i think i can manage(somewhat) 

They could be dubbed or i could just add music and sound effects to the video w/ the regular text bubbles showing up w/ no dub 

I like the dubbed idea better but then again for any of this to work i need every creator includes consent so thats why i didnt wanna talk abt this one

I cant promise everyone can consent and this is a pretty cool idea but im not gonna post my friends w/o their consent thats just rude imo

__

Second idea

Youtube channel

Yk like those youtube animation channels that post storytimes and rants and some other stuff?? yeah i wanna do that

Origionally i wanted to be a streamer and my friend saying that id be a funny one when i mentioned it in a call made me want to be one more

However my schedule is absolutely everywhere so i wouldnt be able to do steady streams like id like to

So a youtube channel works better!!

I can premake videos and have them ready to post on a schedule like id like it to be 

__

Third idea

DT COMIC SERIES

Itd be like the books up to a T so basically you can read the comic or the book and get practically the same story

Except the book will have more extra details and the comic would be more.. graphic

Itd be fun to do 

A great comic idea

Plus i already have atleast 20 pages worth of story done and posted maybe more

I like it but itd prolly be started way after i catch up w/ my current projects

__

Forth idea

A Gregaverse creators series except its based off of persona rps 

This one is a good one but i think itd take a bit of me warming up to before i can manage it

Its a great idea 

I love it

However i have alot of anxiety w/ writing a character right so writing another persons persona?? anxiety through the goddamn roof

But the rp part makes it simpler due to the fact that well they play their own character and all id have to do is write it into a story fill in a few blanks and boom!! story

Again my friends consent but itd take awhile to start anyways due to the fact im drowning in WIPs so i wont have to ask for awhile

__

Fifth idea  

Songs

I can write i can sing so songs would be a great outlet for me

In theory

Ive tried this before and became very dysphoric over my voice in the recordings as it sounded wrong to me

Not to mention my phones microphone is shit so id have to wait a long time until i can

__

Sixth idea

Comissions!!

I want to do comissions for a multitude of reasons 

I need the money for my savings  I want to start making money independently Itd cure boredom Plus itd get ppl some costum content!!

I already have ideas for prices and what i would comission

For example my favorite ones of these ideas is picture oneshots

I draw you a picture based off of who and what you want the story about then write abt a 3-4k word oneshot abt the drawing

The price idea for that one was 15-25USD but i think itd be worth it

The comissions would mainly be writing though as im still working on my art skills 

I dont think theyre good enough for professional comissions so id prolly have the main focus on writing and stories

However i did have the idea of including added pictures

Such as you commissioned a base story of 5 chapters and decide “yk i rlly want an art peice abt this spesific part” 

You could ask and pay for it!!

It be maybe 10-15USD per picture bc i plan on making this pictures extremely detailed

__ 

Thats all the ideas for now so-

I might reblog w/ more ideas but feedback is always welcome

[incorrectsnkships]

OKAY OKAY OKAY! I CAME TO THIS CONCLUSION LAST FUCKING NIGHT! CONNIE THE MOTHERFUCKING SPRINGER IS GAY!

So at first I just thought he was a really confident and comfortable heterosexual, y'know? BUT NOW! NOW!? oh no, no, no!

Reason numbrero uno! He has feminine hips. Straight boys don't strut like that, straight boys don't fucking be flexible like that.

Reason numbrero duex! He says bitch waaay to much. So if you don't know the history of the word bitch, bitch was also used a a gay slur for y'know twinks. You don't see Jean or Levi OR EVEN EREN going around going bitch, bitch, bitch, fucking crazy bitches. Sure maybe once in awhile, but Connie use it like a sister y'know?

Reason numbrero drei! Look at who the fucking hell he's hanging 'round with! Ymir; the fucking bitch lesbian. Christa/Historia; the lesbian or bi girl dude. He's the fucking second lesbian protector (next to Eren). You see that gay ass gay homie grab in like what season 3? Or was it 2? He's friends with Sasha, who does she hang out with most of the time!? Ymir and Historia! Sometimes Jean and Mikasa. Speaking of Jean, he ain't sleek either! Connie hanging 'round with a fucking bi-saster a bi disaster! Not to mention Reiner and Armin! We see him worry about Reiner and Bertholdt when they “missing” asking someone to check on them to see if there alive! Man looking out for his gay homies! Also in one of the games he asks Armin why he spends so much time with Eren, to which Armin shoots back with one of the most gay awakening responses, “Hm well what about Ymir and Historia, or Reiner and Bertholdt?” Like yo.

Reason numbrero shi! He mom picks out gay ass fucking names! Sunny, Martin, Connie. Fucking gay dude. (everyone seems to think Sunny is a girl but judging by there titans I actually think Sunny was a boy dude. That’s just a hunch tho~)

Reason numbrero five! He seems like the kinda guy who would wear jewelry. Not really necessarily gay BUt~ I think earrings would so be he thing, and if he we’re to come out he’d probably start wearing one earring!

Reason numbrero six! Look at the kind of shit this man does! He fucking carried Armin princess style, put him down like a prince, bruh he fucking CHOSE to he CHOSE to. He knew what he was doing. And that one official art where he’s wearing that blonde lopsided wig with makeup on. That dress with the fake boobs in it!

Reason numbrero 7! My mama always say, that if a boy is best friends with a girl he will almost always usually fall for her. Connie is close as HELL with Sasha. And while I LOVE springles. This know discovery is D A W N I N G on me! Connie don’t really seem to show that much interest in women. But not necessarily to men either. And that factor being. I think bby Connie is shy!

Overall I think he’s a great fucking character! I love Connie, but this just made me open a whole new chapter for him. I’m currently rewatching AOT with my mom ‘cause she done wanted to watch it and I couldn’t let her watch that cringey dub so yee. I’ll be paying attention for other Easter eggs and clues. I never researched Connie to much but now that I have I’m made some pretty interesting discoveries! In conclusion Connie Springer is probably fucking gay. SO in other words you were RIGHT! ATTACK ON TITAN IS FUCKING GAY! 😍

( j u s t l i k e m e l o l )

srry for the late reply, but you’ve actually convinced me

mans comes across heterosexual but he definitely had a crush on every single male member of the 104th. literally every one. and like many others, one of the older scouts was his gay awakening. and im not saying that connie had a crush on them or anything, and this is definitely not a ship post between connie and any adult in the show, but im just saying that he admired them. a lot. too much. and had to look away when they got changed in front of him.

“connie why do you offer to go kill titans with captain levi whenever we have a mission?”

“i admire his skills!”

“connie, you do realise that erwin doesn’t have time to have tea with you right?”

“no i know i just wanted to talk about stuff with him. professional stuff. as a soldier.”

“connie, you know that moblit doesn’t need an assistant right? he is the assistant”

“WELL SUE ME FOR WANTING TO BE HELPFUL JEAN-“

he’d simp for armin so hard. every week he has a crush on someone new, and then it goes in a loop. and he’d “practice” kissing too. like he’d occasionally bring the topic up in conversation and then go from there based off of the persons reply. “hey uh, jean, so like- have you had your first kiss yet?” and then jean would tell him no and connie would go full internal gay panic. “o- oh yeah, thas- thas cool, um, well, i havent- had mine either so like- would you wanna practice? it doesn’t count-“

connie would have his first everything with jean and it would be so funny because it just happens all at once. like hed get asked if hes ever kissed someone and hed just glare at jean and be so flustered

connie finds it so difficult to tell romantic and platonic feelings apart and thats why hes fallen for all of his friends

armin: oh, connie, thanks for doing that favour for me! i dont know what id do without you!

eren: wait! hurry, where do they keep the extra blades?!

connie: in the cellar!

eren: great- connie, i love you!

marco: see connie? if you just fold the paper a little more, youll get there :) youre a pleasure to teach and i love spending time with you :)

also why do i feel like connie and marco dated for a little while? not even dated then, had a thing going on for a bit. like besides from jean because he doesnt count, but connies first romantic encounter was with marco, fight me

and i definitely feel like connie went to hange for some advice about his sexuality. he was so confused and liking everyone at the same time, so who else better to go to than the person who tried to convince erwin to start an lgbtq+ youth club right?

but when eren and armin announced that they were officially dating, that was an eye opener for connie and it made him realise that its okay to be yourself

and it took him a while to actually realise that he was gay. hence the fact that hed physically gag whenever someone suggested for him to date sasha, and all those times in the boys changing room that hed have to turn around or leave completely

so yes, i can see where youre coming from, and i agree with you. but if we were to list the people connie has simped for from most-least?

marco

armin

jean

eren

levi (not really simping, more fanboying/celebrity crush)

reiner

moblit (same as levi)

bertholdt

[blueluneacy]

Lessons in Law

Alright boys, it’s finally here. The first place raffle fic for @chaoticstupidsworld ! I had so much fun writing this, So I hope you all really enjoy it. This was definitely a fic made with a lot of love on my part, but I never would’ve done it without her amazing idea and the support of my friends. So thank you all for supporting me!

This is a Dio Brando/Reader, Modern Lawyer Au! It’s extremely nsfw.

Word Count: 3.4k words

Warnings are: cunniligus, fingering, degradation, slurs (sl/t), coming inside, employee boss relationships, power dynamic, slight dub con? I have no idea, but we’re putting that there too just in case.

You grumbled as you looked over the paperwork for the fourth time, trying to figure out what exactly you did wrong. Mr. Brando never told you what mistakes you made when you had made one, he expected you to figure it out for yourself, telling you it would be a learning experience. It took every fiber of your willpower to not yell back at your boss at his arrogance.

You had recently started working at the infamous Brando law firm, hoping to gain experience in your own legal studies. Your professor, though advising you that Dio Brando was known to be rather harsh, the internship would look incredible once you graduated from law school. So you toiled on, going through the paperwork, trying your best not to grumble. You should be grateful you were working for someone so prestigious. Yet all you could feel was your growing contempt for the man.

Dio in the courtroom was a wonder to behold, you knew that much. You sat in on one of his trials before taking on the internship, hoping to get more of a feel for the defense attorney. He took on most any case, so long as it paid enough, and was infamous for getting off people who probably were guilty on things like technicalities or simply his quick wit and talent for poking holes in the prosecutor’s case. Not to mention, you had quickly realized that Dio Brando was quite a beautiful man. While you knew that if you took the internship, you would need to be professional, it was hard not to see how attractive Dio was. Tall, broad shouldered, with that gorgeous blonde hair that he let grow perhaps a bit too long to be professional in a courtroom. He had these red eyes that pierced through anyone who he set eyes on, and a pretty face to match. He often accented his looks with makeup, which some interpreted as vanity, but at the time, you couldn’t help but be entranced.

If only you could see through that pretty face at the time. During your work, you quickly realized that Dio Brando was quite an arrogant, hard to please man. Ever the perfectionist, he was quick to get rid of anyone who displeased him. One of his clerks told you once that she was shocked that you even got the job, as apparently on the day of your interview, you had a tag sticking out from your top. That’s how particular Dio was about the image of his firm, and the people who worked for him.

And here you were, working to figure out your mistake, hoping that it was simply a minor error, and that you wouldn’t have to retype everything. You had taken keen to simply typing up your work, as Dio once made a comment that your handwriting was too dreadful for any sort of professional document. At the time, you were too terrified of him to even talk back. Over your job, you had quickly grown tired of Dio’s constant criticism of your work. You were supposed to be learning from him. Instead, he expected you to simply know what you did wrong and correct it, and it did nothing but piss you off. When you realized your mistake, you huffed. You know, if Dio told you what you had done wrong, it only would have taken ten minutes. Instead you had spent an hour looking over papers. Surely you’d get yelled at for taking too long once you turned in the papers. You grit your teeth as moved to your laptop, editing your document and printing it out. You sighed, checking it over one last time before slipping it into your folder, standing up and smoothing down your skirt. You were a bit sick of all this dressy clothing you had to wear for this internship, but Dio insisted on it. You supposed it was fine, after all, he wore a suit every day to the office as well. Even if the suits were a bit… eccentric at times. 

You clacked down the hall, wondering if there was ever going to be a day where you would get used to wearing high heels, and stopped at the end. Dio’s office was the last one at the end of the hall. How ominous. It felt just as foreboding at Dio meant it to be, you supposed. You took a deep breath, knocking on the door three times in rapid succession. It was a formal way of knocking, you had learned. You didn’t realize there were rules to knocking on a door.

“Enter.” The stern voice of your boss called out, and you took another deep breath before opening the door, holding the folder close to your chest.

“Mr. Brando. I’ve fixed my error in the report and brought it like you asked.” You tried your best to speak cooly, but you seemed to have trouble with actual volume when you did. It wasn’t your fault, you were trying to be respectful to a man that by all accounts was practically a monster. Sauve, sure, but it was all a facade. You had learned that all too well. Dio just looked at you, raising an eyebrow.

“That was faster than expected.” He reached out to take the folder, which you quickly handed over. You wanted so badly to run off and leave, get to the next item on your list so you didn’t have to stand there while Dio looked over your paperwork, thumbing through with judgemental eyes. You watched him closely, hoping that maybe you could pinpoint what part of the document he was judging. No such luck. He carefully read through, before snapping the folder shut, dropping it on the table. 

“Do it again.” Dio told you, and you just gasped. This was hours of work at this point, and you were growing sick of this superior attitude Dio had. You just looked at him, shocked.

“W-What?! What’s wrong with it, what did I do?!” You asked, trying your best to hold back the rising anger in your stomach. Dio just put on a small smile, the tone in his voice reminding you of how one would chide a small child. 

“Now, (y/n), if I told you what you did wrong, then how would-” He began, but you had had enough. He always did that when you asked what you did wrong. He would reply “If I told you, then how would you learn?” It did nothing but piss you off, make you want to rip your hair out of your head.

“No! Just tell me, tell me what I did wrong! I’m sick of this, do you know how much time we’re wasting?! I could’ve gotten ten of these done if you just told me where I’m going wrong!” You yelled, not realizing how much you raised your voice until you finished speaking. You covered your mouth, shocked at your disrespect, but you didn’t say anything that wasn’t true. Dio looked at you with an intrigued expression at the fire in your voice, standing up and over towards you. You swallowed, stumbling back until you fell into one of the chairs on the other side of Dio’s desk. He leaned close, and you could smell the expensive cologne he was wearing. Dio dressed well, you could admit that much, and his clothing at this angle with you below him only extenuated his muscles. God, did he work out? This guy was massive.

“You know, I could fire you just for that. You’re nothing but a second rate student, but I decided to take you under my wing. It seems I’ve been too soft on you, you’re being nothing but ungrateful.” Dio’s voice was low, practically ringing in your ears as you gulped, gritting your teeth. You couldn’t just cower at this, could you? No, if you did, you’d spend the rest of this internship as Dio’s mouse, letting him toy with you and degrade your work until you finally broke. You swallowed, looking up at the man.

“I think you’re just a shit teacher.” You told him, looking right into Dio’s eyes. He raised an eyebrow, and god, he was far too close to you than what could be considered professional. He took your chin into his hand, humming slightly.

“Perhaps you’re right. I haven’t really been teaching you personally. I’ll have to amend that.” Wait, did Dio actually… Take your criticism seriously? You were shocked at first, but the smirk on Dio’s face seemed to tell a different story, something you couldn’t quite place. You gulped, trying to look away, but your head was kept in place, forced to look him in the eye. It was so much harder than before.

“W-What do you mean…?” You asked, unable to hide the shaking in your voice from your embarrassment. Dio leaned in, and god, you felt his breath on your ear. You felt a shudder go down your spine, and you prayed to god that Dio didn’t notice.

“What do you think it means, my dear?” He purred, and god, that British accent of his was so smooth, leaving you to gulp as his free hand toyed with the hem of your collar. You had a very good idea of what he meant, that’s for sure. You squirmed a bit, unsure of what to do. This was not in the legal manuals you read, definitely not.

“M.. Mr. Brando… This is highly inappropriate, I-” You were cut off by your own squeak and Dio’s hand travelled lower, over your chest. He chuckled a bit at your reaction, staring at you as if you were no more than a piece of meat, primed for Dio to devour. 

“Oh, no need to act so coy, my dear.” Dio chuckled, finding your embarrassment all the more amusing. He leaned in, breathing in deeply before speaking.

“I remember how your eyes practically undressed me while you were watching me in court. You were hoping something like this would happen, weren’t you?” Dio practically growled into your ear. You gasped, looking away. There’s no way he could’ve noticed, right? He was just messing with you, pretending he knew things that he didn’t in order to get a confession out of you. He knew how to form questions. It was just a shame that he was absolutely right, and your face was bright red. 

“I.. I d-don’t what you’re talking about-” You let out a soft moan as Dio leaned down to suck on your skin, leaving a mark.

“It’s not good to lie, dear (y/n). Such a slutty thing, lusting after your own boss. You just couldn’t help yourself, could you?” Dio just grinned into your neck as a hand reached under your shirt, toying with you through your bra. You gulped, biting your lip to try and hold back your embarrassing sounds, pressing your thighs together as if it would stop how wet you were becoming due to his ministrations. 

“Mr. Brando… We, Someone could catch us, p-please…” You made a last ditch effort to save a shred of dignity, only for Dio to purr.

“This room is hard to listen in to, for privacy’s sake. So as long as you’re quiet, no one will know.” He told you as he lifted you up. You squeaked as he held up, pressing your back down onto his desk as he pulled the zipper on your skirt, smiling as he saw you had soaked through your underwear.

“My my… Someone’s excited, aren’t we?” He teased and he ran his hand along your thigh, using the other to toy with the hem of your underwear. You bit your lip a Dio began to slip them off, cooing at the sight of you. 

“I hope you don’t mind, but I think I’d rather savor the taste of this before we continue.” You looked at Dio to ask what he meant, before feeling exactly his intent as his tongue swiped over your slick folds. You moaned out, reaching to grab Dio’s hair. He chuckled a bit, giving a few kitten licks before truly pushing his tongue inside of you, taking in your moans as if they were the great symphony. He toyed with your insides a bit, thrusting his tongue in and out of you, before pulling out and reaching to give a harsh suck on your clit. You whined and bucked up into Dio’s mouth, only feeling that coil in your belly start to tighten as you chased pleasure. Dio just chuckled, moving to hold down your hips. 

“Look how needy you are for me… Delicious little thing, you’re just aching for me, aren’t you?” He teased, pushing a finger inside of you to help stretch you out as his tongue toyed with your clit. You moaned, nodding incessantly as Dio did as he pleased.

“God, pleeeeease! Please, I need it!” You whined out, trying to buck your hips as Dio added another finger, scissoring them to prepare you to take him. He just chuckled as you moaned, your pleading becoming more delirious as you begged for him to pound you into this desk. He pulled his fingers from you and you groaned, bucking up your hips in an attempt to reobtain the lost friction, only to find nothingness. Dio just chuckled, forcing his fingers into your mouth.

“Suck. If you do a good job, maybe I’ll be gracious enough to let you cum on my cock.” Dio practically growled. You felt a shiver go down your spine as you wrapped your lips around his fingers, doing your best to clean them off. You looked up at Dio, trying your best to look pleading. God, just a while ago you would’ve scoffed at the idea of ever being below the man like this. Sure, maybe the idea had popped in your head a few times during some late nights, but you always considered Dio too full of himself for such a thing to ever happen. Now look at you. Needy, begging, and ready to jump at any command. And the look in Dio’s eyes made it very clear that he relished in it.

When he finally pulled out his fingers, he smiled at the way you practically whimpered, biting your lip as you watched Dio pull away, unbuckling his belt and pulling down his trousers to reveal his hard cock. You stared in awe for a moment. It was big, maybe a little too big, but you couldn’t help but drool a little at the sight. Dio easily lined up, nudging against your entrance, leaving you to shudder with need.

“Beg. Beg for me to fuck you.” Dio commanded. You looked away, embarrassed. You swallowed before you started.

“P… Please, Dio. Please fuck me, I need it, need you so bad. You’re the only man who can fulfill me, please.” You begged. Dio just raised an eyebrow, pushing in slowly. You groaned, grabbing onto the edge of the desk. You gasped at the stretch, feeling Dio press up against your womb as he finally bottomed out. He was quieter than you had imagined, only letting out a small gasp as he pushed in. 

“That was good, but… You can do better. Come on, let me hear how much you need it. Or I won’t move.” Dio ordered, a cocky smirk on his face. You grumbled, almost shocked at how composed he could be while his dick was literally inside you. Still, you obliged. 

“P-Please, please fuck me, I need it! Need it, need you to fuck me and cum inside of me, need you to fill me up! God, need you to fuck me, Sir!” You hadn’t intended for that last word to slip out, and when you heard it come from your mouth, you looked up with wide eyes, as if you hoped Dio maybe wouldn’t have caught it. It was a foolish hope. Dio just broke out in a small laugh, pulling back slowly. You whined, expecting him to be pulling out, before he slammed back into you. You let out a broken moan, your eyes rolling back in your head as he hit your g-spot. 

“Hmm, that’s much better. It seems you’re finally starting to learn.” He growled, sounding a bit more animalistic than anything you had ever seen the normally composed lawyer speak out. He grabbed onto your hips bruisingly tight, beginning to fuck you hard and fast. Dio was insatiable, bending over you and gasping for breath as he listened to you moan and let out broken praises. He relished in the way you begged for him, the way your body clenched around him, trying to bring him deeper inside of you as you let out sounds for him.

“God, yes, please Dio, fuck me! Fuck me harder, please!” You moaned out, Dio practically snarling as his mouth moved to your neck, sucking and biting the skin in hopes of causing you bruises, marking you as his. 

“That’s Sir to you, slut. Be grateful that you even are getting this.” He gave a harsher bite as a warning, leaving you to moan and gasp in return.

“S-Sorry, Sir! Please, thank you! Thank you for fucking me, feels so goooood~!” You cried out, wrapping your arms around Dio and grabbing onto the back of his shirt. You were almost sure that you were loud enough for the whole office to hear you, but at this point, you didn’t care. You felt yourself getting closer, closer, and all you could think about was how good it would feel to cum all over Dio’s cock, to feel him fill you up. Dio could feel himself getting close too, groaning as he dug his nails into your hips.

“Where do you want me to cum?” He grunted out, trying his best to stave himself from holding your hips down and forcing his cum into the deepest parts of you.

“Inside me, Sir! Please, it’ll be okay! Just fill me up!” You begged, trying to pull Dio as close as you to you. Dio just growled, pounding into you as hard as you could and you wailed out, clenching down on Dio as if trying to milk him for all he’s worth. He pounded into you one, two, three more times, before he let out a groan of his own, pressing himself into you as deep as he could. You moaned at the warmth you felt inside of you, the two of you staying like that and panting for a bit. You leaned in, pressing a soft kiss against Dio’s lips, slowly releasing your grip on Dio’s shirt, trying to crane your neck to inspect your wrinkles. Ever the dutiful employee.

Dio slowly pulled out, leaving you to whine. This was going to be a bitch to clean up. Dio just smiled, adjusting your shirt. 

“Looks like most people have already left for the day. However, you still have a report to redo. I expect you to finish it before you leave here.” Dio told you as he put himself away, already moving to get back to his own unfinished paperwork. You gasped, moving to stand up and face him, even though your legs were still like jelly.

“What?! Come on, that’s hours of work, just tell me what I did wrong.” You begged, but Dio just smiled as he turned back to you. He grabbed your chin, rubbing his thumb over your bottom lip almost tenderly, but the look in his eyes was anything but.

“Now, my dear (y/n). If I were to tell you your mistake, how would you learn?” Dio chided as he always did, before letting you go, moving to sit back down at his desk.

“Now, go on, try again. If it’s good, perhaps I’ll… Reward you kindly.” He relished in the way your face burned as you heard him speak, eyes tearing over you as you started to redress with him still dripping out of you. Even after something like that, he was still an asshole. As you walked out of the office, you were grateful that the office was indeed almost empty, and the people still there didn’t comment on your crooked shirt or messy hair.

You really did hate working for Dio Brando. That much was obvious. He was arrogant, domineering, and felt like he was entitled to anything and everything. And yet, you continued to work for him, continued with this stupid paperwork. You couldn’t help it.

The mention of a reward was just too alluring to you.

[hazelenergy]

@bed-of-briars​ @the-road-from-calvary​

So here’s some info on how thinblood alchemy works. Kitty, I know you asked me about it so hopefully this clears things up. Antonia, I hope this has use for you, and I may be able to plague you with more history questions soon. 

What is thinblood alchemy? 

Good fucking question. Professionally, I’d say it’s the combination of high resonances with vampiric vitae and proper catalyzing substances to replicate vampiric disciplines or new powers completely. Among friends, I say it’s walking around my haven, tits out, ingesting random household items to see what happens. 

How long has thinblood alchemy been a thing?

I’ve been trying to pinpoint how long thinblood alchemy has been around and I haven’t been able to find many sources giving concrete answers. It's like they want us eradicated so our notes and research were destroyed with us. The easy answer is thinblood alchemy started booming in the late 20th century with the drug scene. Which is true. With widespread access to technology, information, and the invention of online stores- acquiring the necessary gear is easy. 

However, thinblood alchemy has been around a lot longer. I have been fortunate enough with my thinblood safehouse project to be allowed to see old notebooks passed down from alchemists- some dating from the 1980s and one delicate diary from 1947. I’m not at all surprised when the alchemists who possess these relics feel tremendous responsibility to preserve them. But there are even rarer and older documents. The alchemy notes from the dark ages work for our formulas- if you can translate their coded notes. So in truth, thinblood alchemy has been around since the creation of clan Tremere- or even earlier. 

So how does it work?

Thinblood alchemy is not like other disciplines you may have seen or used. Lots of kindred of the 13th generation or lower are embraced and immediately possess control of their disciplines. Most alchemists wouldn’t describe their craft as something that came naturally to them- it took weeks, months, or even years to experiment and find what works. Additionally, this is not a practice for the faint of heart or weak of stomach. To get the necessary ingredients requires some unsavory acts- it is a fact as true as the beast within us. 

Across the board, you need vitae. Doesn’t always have to be yours but it is awfully convenient to use what you’ve got inside. Cool you got blood, and it's yours because it’s in your possession. Now what? You need something to put it in. But it can’t be just anything. Much like a tremere needs very specific tools to do some rituals, thinblood alchemists need an alchemical cauldron or furnace. There are currently three possible ways to procure such a furnace which have developed into the three distillation methods.

The first is my preferred method. The fancy latin some of us use is Athanor Corporis, meaning furnace body. I utilize my own stomach as my alchemical cauldron. After eating or drinking the necessary ingredients, I can will the blood to ignite the furnace. Most of the time it just kinda feels like a heat radiating beneath my ribcage. On occasion it has felt as bad as taking rapid fire bullets to my gut and then pouring vinegar onto the holes...but it's rare. The benefit of this method is it allows me to keep the power or discipline in my system for extended periods of time- sometimes even as long as a month. I also can travel a lot of the ingredients on my person, swallow them, and then hunt down the right resonance. It's a very versatile method that lends itself well to being discreet. The downside is, this is a one power at a time method. If I consume a new formula, it replaces the original power. Which is a bummer and why proper planning is important. Additionally, not every thinblood has the gullet to do this. I can speak from very personal experience that I have eaten and swallowed some terrible tasting things. There are some that even I found myself vomiting back up and then immediately racked with hunger. Those that use this method have given some extreme criticism that they had to train themselves to keep stuff down or chase it with so much vitae that they nearly bond themselves. 

The second method I find morally uncomfortable and I refuse to try it. This one’s called calcinato. Instead of using your own body- which you know can’t die from drinking bleach because it's already dead, you use human vessels. You can emotionally manipulate them to match the resonance you need. You can also use drugs. You can also use sex. Then you feed them with the proper ingredients and your own vitae, and their entire body activates the formula. The alchemist can then drink a number of doses from that vessel until their resonance changes or there’s no blood left. There are a few benefits to this method. I have a sharp nose which allows me to smell resonances. I imagine that if I lacked this innate ability, finding and tapping resonances would be far more difficult or left to chance. This ensures you are getting a specific resonance every time. Additionally, the time it takes to drink from that vessel can be faster than I can swallow new ingredients and will the blood to brew. I’d possibly be hungrier, they could be full. Lastly, a thinblood that uses this method is possibly in the enviable position of possessing a herd. If they are, they could easily have multiple brews in many people- making them more prepared than I could be with pockets full of magnets. The downsides to this method are numerous- besides my personal grievances. The first is that this method quickly lends itself to masquerade breaches. Taking a bite from your vessel in the open is not a possibility if you care to play the masquerade game. Secondly, if you are separated from your vessel, what do you do? If the alchemist is someone who coerced or drugged their victims into doing this, what happens when they escape? And if they do possess a herd, what happens when your stock is depleted? Agh, it makes my stomach turn just referring to people like that ew. The second issue is the same as the first method- one power per body. 

The third method is more common but harder to distill. This method closely mirrors actual alchemy from the dark ages, where all the ingredients are poured into the athanor and distilled inside. The furnace needs to be able to conduct heat. You can use a kiln, a metalworking furnace, or modern inventions like an electric pressure cooker or as its nickname “cooking” suggests, get a meth cooker. Some asshole dubbed it fixatio once trying to give it a better street name. But since Breaking Bad aired, that name is never going to stick. Once distilled, the resulting formula can be bagged or bottled for future use. This method has the most benefits- but also the most disadvantages. It’s that reason I prefer the first method, but I have dabbled into this one to expand my knowledge.  The first benefit is that the alchemy is portable. You don’t have to hunt or lead a vessel around. You can hold a lot of different formulas inside jackets, backpacks, pockets, or my favorite i’ve ever seen- a ren faire waterskin. You can be prepared for lots of encounters, but it still takes time to imbibe the entire dose. The other benefit is its lucrative possibilities. Selling these means money in pockets. And money lets you go buy more weird shit for more alchemy. It’s also excellent for quick favors. The downsides are you have to be cautious of who you’re selling to. A lot of alchemists who use this are also drug dealers and plenty of final deaths have occured from people selling on someone else’s turf. Additionally, each brewed formula is unique to their alchemist. In intelligent hands cough TREMERE (or even an alchemist armed with Tremere secrets) it can be traced back to you… or worse. Travelling around with blood bags, vials, or a waterskin can be tricky too. You have to take care that you don’t burst or break any of these creations. Oh you fell? Better hide that pool of blood spilling out from your sweatshirt pocket. On top of that, most of these aren’t shelf stable. And even if they are kept cold- some still can’t make it more than a few days before it spoils. Like the two methods before, it is a one power at a time rule. Once consumed, you gotta use whatever you drank immediately or it will fade. Lastly, the reason this is more difficult is because it requires more powerful ingredients and a stationary lab. Substitutions don’t tend to work- you gotta have the best you can get. Which gets difficult when high level preparations demand rarer and rarer ingredients.

Each alchemist is going to have their own research methods, however most of us are resorting to trial and error. However, we unanimously agree that you need to brush up on modern chemistry and learn how to hunt for specific resonances. I’ve come to learn that my sharp nose is a trait not just present in thinbloods and by some older kindred it has been dubbed “bloodhound.” I have been fortunate that I don’t need to rely on wit and observation to figure out what resonance my potential victim has. I smell it. However, those without this ability have to learn to pinpoint emotional responses and their corresponding resonance. Put simply, there are five possible resonances: Melancholic, Phlegmatic, Choleric, Sanguine, and Absent. Melancholic resonances tend to be associated with relaxation and calmness but also sadness and fear. Easy targets are stoners, funeral goers, and horror movie newbies. To me, this has an overwhelming sour smell and tart taste. Phlegmatic is content and happiness, but can also be feeling in control. This one can be one of the hardest to pinpoint, since happy feelings blend so effectively with choleric and sanguine resonances. Phlegmatic resonances have a salty smell to them. Choleric is rage and anger, but it also can be passionate and driven. Choleric resonances are typically spicy flavors, and are some of the easiest to recognize. It’s hard to mistake true anger for anything else. Sanguine is also joy and happiness, but also includes how horny someone is. Sanguine resonances are easy to find in flirtatious club goers and generally have a sugar sweet aroma. Lastly, there are those who are completely uncaring and have no resonance. This apathy is extremely difficult to pinpoint- even with my nose as it has the smell of nothing. The only distinguishable thing is that it has an overpowering bitter taste. 

Regardless of whether or not a thinblood is an alchemist, they can take advantage of these resonances to grant themselves temporary power. Most kindred need the resonance to be exceptionally potent to gain these benefits. However, thinbloods are hypersensitive to even fleeting resonances. Most of us have pieced the puzzle together that biting into a club goer equals a bit of presence for the next couple hours. But for alchemists, especially those brewing outside the body, hunting and preserving these resonances is essential for alchemy. Most resonances flicker away within fifteen minutes out of a body, so you have to act fast to get it into the formula and start brewing. 

Once the proper resonance is obtained and mixed with ingredients in the furnace, it’s pretty obvious of whether or not it worked. If it works, you have the discipline or new power until the brew is used up. If it fails, at best nothing happens. At worst, I’ve had some rough stomach aches if brewed internally. I’ve also had some mild explosions or acid seep through objects. Failure can be devastating. But it’s just a fact of the practice. 

So if it's a practice, why can only thinbloods do this?

I don’t know. I don’t think lower gen kindred can learn this. Looking at how disciplines can be gained for older vampires doesn’t seem to match how thinblood alchemy works. It much more closely resembles the paths that Tremere apprentices can choose to learn- but even they couldn’t pick up these tricks. My adoptive sire, a Tremere, tried to mimic our findings and found she could not will the blood like I or my coterie mates could. Perhaps this was part of her clan’s history and curse. However, I’ve not had other clans ever try. To most, the thought of consuming anything but blood churns their undead stomach. Some of you can’t even ingest bagged blood. The ability to eat is a rare trait in older kindred but fairly common for thinbloods. Perhaps this is why it works for us.

Additionally, thinblood alchemy allows us to replicate disciplines but also create new powers entirely. These powers may be unusable to the other clans. And I don’t mean that in the secretive way that Necromancy or Levinbolt is. Your blood is too strong and therefore isn’t affected by the slight changes in resonance and mere drops of vitae in a brew. But to a hungry thinblood, three drops of vitae, some fridge magnets, and choleric blood means we have telekinesis. 

I’m young. And if I keep playing my cards right and brewing my alchemy correctly, I’ll still be here in 40 years and hopefully can refute this entire thing with the years of knowledge I possess. But I hope this answers some questions to how alchemy works, and leaves you with plenty more for us to bargain favors for answers.