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ceilidho · 8 months

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take me home, country road

[ao3]

prompt: 1800s price/reader…. reader flees to his town where Price is the sheriff after a murder in her previous town only to be mistaken for the mail order bride that Price just sent for ….and he’s not interested in hearing any of her excuses when she tells him that he’s got the wrong girl (part 3) part 1, part 2

“Neglecting your husband already?” he asks when you pull away from the arm curling around your waist. It’d migrated there from your back during the walk away from the courthouse.

“You know I’m not—I’m not some horse that you can just…break in,” you seethe, glaring up at Price. Your arms are crossed tight over your chest, putting the slightest boundary between you and him. It’s more of a mental boundary than anything, a self-soothing gesture; you know it hardly even registers to him because the man still looks down at you with that unimpressed expression, like dealing with a particularly vexing child.

“I hadn’t noticed,” he says dryly, looking you up and down. It’s a scorching, hungry look and it makes you shift from foot to foot.

The two of you stand outside the front door of his house, the front door still shut tight. You put up a fuss on the walk from town as the reality of your situation finally sunk in, squirming in his hold until he threatened to just load you over his shoulder and carry you off. His tone leaves little for you to doubt. Nothing about him brooks skepticism; until the end of time, you’ll look at John Price and think, this is a man of action. This is a man that will move heaven and earth.

You clam up after that, lips pursed shut though turned down at the corners.

It’s a bigger house than you might’ve expected for a single man, but perhaps it was built with a wife and children in mind. The thought makes you swallow. A wooden two-story thing with a porch out front and an adjacent stable for his two horses with a pen around back. Speckled Appaloosas that look up at the sound of his boots and keys, attentive for all of a few seconds before losing interest.

You know without asking that Price must have built this house with his own two hands. It’s not shoddy by any means, but his house has that indefinable quality that some places have. Organic. Homegrown, almost. It’s hard to put up against the houses of your youth, but then again, you grew up in the cramped quarters of the city, apartments thick with the scent of sewage on bad days and dust on the good. The two are hardly comparable. It’s even harder to put up against the estates that you’ve spent the better part of the last few years cleaning and learning inside out, but at least his house doesn’t make your stomach turn at the sight.

There’s a moment when you first turn to him where you wonder if he’ll look for approval in your face, some sign to set him at ease, but when you meet his gaze, it’s steady and impenetrable. Quietly self-assured. It’s incongruent with the machismo you were raised around, the constant need to impress or transcend. It puts you on edge. It makes you almost feel like baring your teeth.

Your comment had come from seeing the horses and the house and the porch with the two rocking chairs, your hackles raising every step closer. Price built his house big enough for children because he anticipated a baby in his future. Children he’d have with his wife, which, though a fuzzy memory as far as memories go, you quietly stepped into the role of not half an hour ago.

You’ve thought about it before. Motherhood; marriage, domestic living, settling down with a man to start a family. The reality of your life has always made it seem like a problem for the future. Years chipping away like flakes of faded paint off the walls of your bedroom, still living with your aunt and uncle well into adulthood, trying desperately to scrimp and save and stay afloat. Disappointing but not surprising that you’d never been considered the marriable sort, not with scrubbing other people's toilets for a living.

And now look at you, ring on your finger and whisked home to be bedded. A shiver roles down your spine at the thought and you scowl at Price instead of sinking into the strange thrill.

When he wraps a hand around your wrist to pull you towards him (his fingers easily overlapping; another thrill), you snap.

“That is quite enough with all the touching!”

His eyes narrow. “I’ll have more than my hands on you by the end of the night.”

A more proper woman would gasp. You barely hold yours back.

You know in the back of your mind that you’ve already lost any semblance of an upper hand in this situation. It has long spiraled out of your control. His ring sits on your finger all nice and pretty, and though you signed your marriage license under a different name—your own rather than the name of his actual intended—that Price hadn’t even bothered confirming, you are, for all intents and purposes, his to touch as he pleases.

“I’m—” your eyes dart around, the urge to bolt a sharp and sudden compulsion lodged in your chest, “—I know I said yes, but I—there’s always the possibility of an a-annulment if we don’t…if…”

You flinch, startled, when he pulls you into his chest only to cup your face again. He has big hands with callused fingers, rough against your skin. Up close, you can see the way his beard is cropped closer than his mustache and mutton chops. It gives him a grim air, almost somber until you catch his eyes staring down at you with an affection that feels unearned, meant for someone else.

“Deep breaths, darling, there’s nothing to fret about just yet. You’ll work yourself into a state like this,” he murmurs, dropping his head to sip a kiss from your lips again.

You’ve been in a state since the moment you walked into the sheriff’s office and laid eyes on this man. Turned around and knocked sideways, like you’ve walked into a storybook without noticing. If only it hadn’t all been so sudden, you might’ve been able to approach the situation with a clearer head. You might’ve been able to think up some other way out of it beyond giving Price a fake name and waiting anxiously for your true identity to be painstakingly drawn out over the course of a week.

“Don’t know why you keep working yourself up,” Price says softly, then slots your lips together for another tender kiss. “Figured you might be a little skittish, but…’m gonna be such a good husband for you, honey. Not gonna want for nothing.”

His slow kisses drag out longer than back in the courthouse, languorous and decadent. As if he has all the time in the world now. In a way, he does, now that he’s helped collect your belongings from the inn and brought you home. When you think of pulling away, the hand wrapped around your wrist lets go and slides to your back, pulling you flush against his chest. Your breasts flatten against his chest, pulse skittering like mad when you feel the hardest of his chest against yours and the muscle holding you in place.

You can’t help the whimper that escapes your lips when the hand on your cheek slides to the nape of your neck and grips, holding you in place. The kiss deepens, the heat on your cheeks feeling palpably hot, vision swimming until your eyes have no choice but to flutter shut. Your suitcase sits forgotten somewhere in the dirt, toppled over onto its side. You pant low, hot breaths into his mouth when he breaks the kiss, letting his lips just hover over yours.

“There we go, darlin’,” Price mumbles against your mouth, sliding the hand on your low back down to grip the plump flesh of your ass through your dress, lips twitching when you make a broken, affronted sound. “Isn’ that better? Not thinkin’ so hard?”

You can’t think at all, in truth. When he kisses you again, your thoughts evaporate up into the clouds, the tongue licking into your mouth dispelling any ideas or notions you might’ve had. It disappears into the heat and lust and the fingers digging into your backside, groping at the flesh there without shame or compunction. You go with him when he clutches you closer, gasping again into his mouth when you feel something hard press against your low belly. He grunts when you twitch against it.

“John—John—” you gasp, pulling your mouth away and whimpering when he chases after you, letting him steal another wet, slick kiss before your trembling hands clutch at the fabric of his shirt. “Enough—it’s not—it’s not proper—”

“No prying eyes around here,” he grunts. “‘Sides, who’s going to tell a man he can’t kiss his own wife?”

Trembling all the harder at his words, you dig your nails into his shirt sleeves and hope you pinch the skin underneath. All twisted up inside. The ring on your finger glimmers when it catches the light, brighter even than the sun this close to your face. When Price feels your nails dig into his arms, he groans, fingers pressing harder into your bottom and making you squeak. All the pent up lust finally trickling out of him and into you.

“C’mon, honey, let’s get you inside.” He finally lets you go after giving your bottom lip one last wet suck, pulling it into his mouth while his half-lidded eyes stare into yours. It’s somehow more intimate than kissing.

You’re still reeling when he turns around to pick your suitcase off the ground, certain that your knees will give way and send you tumbling as well. Every point of contact on your body sizzles, aches. You watch from outside of yourself as he turns back to you, suitcase in his hand now, eyes still dark and fixed on you. Hungry. Your eyes widen when they flit down to find a thick bulge at the crotch of his pants.

Like a cold bucket of water has been dumped over your head, you hiss and back up three steps when he takes a step towards you. “Oh no, you don’t take one step closer! I won’t have anything to do with—with that!”

You must look like some feral barn cat, back all puffed up, teeth bared to the man trying to coax you towards him. Price must see it too because he grins, amused. “Still spittin’ mad, huh? Felt those claws in me before, darlin’…gonna love feeling them with nothing between us.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

Price doesn’t bother clearing anything up, but you intuit it the second he takes another step in your direction, whirling around and sprinting towards the house. It feels counterproductive to seek shelter in the man’s house, but dusty plains stretch out in every direction apart from back into town, where you know not a soul will lift a finger to help you. His house is the only shelter you’re going to get.

You hurry up the porch stairs, tearing open the door before glancing over your shoulder to find Price not far behind. He advances on you at a walking pace, but each stride of his long legs matches two of yours, making you shriek and scurry up the staircase. You dart for the first open door you see, slamming it shut behind you and leaning your whole weight against it. Glancing down, you perk up at the sight of a lock on the door before flipping it.

It’s not long before the sound of boots clomping up the staircase meets your ears, headed straight in your direction. You shake when you hear him pause right outside the door, then startle when he tries the knob.

“You gonna let me in, darling?” Price asks, grin in his voice. Even raps his knuckle against the door for good measure.

“No,” you snap.

“Not even for your things? Got your suitcase right here.” You hear him set it down, a little clunk against the wood floor.

“I can manage like this. I’ve slept in my dress before.”

He pauses. “Have you?”

You tilt your chin up proudly despite the door blocking his view. “Yes, and I don’t mind doing it again. You can just stay on the other side of that door until you…until you put that thing away.”

“Can’t do much about that thing, darling; it’s sort of grown on me over the years anyway,” Price chuckles. “Well, not much I can do with it behind this door. I’ll go tend the horses ‘till suppertime comes ‘round and then come back to tend to you.”

“Licentious…reprobate,” you hiss through the door.

He laughs, the sound deep in his throat. Your stomach flips.

The stairs creak under the weight of his boots as he descends back downstairs. You wait until you hear the front door open and shut behind him, until the house is completely quiet save for the blood pumping in your ears before you hastily unlock the door and dart a hand out just to pull your suitcase in. You shut and lock the door as soon as it passes the threshold.

It takes a while to settle your nerves and for the trembling to subside. In the meantime, you sit on your bottom at the foot of the door, with your back still pressed firmly to the wood, and take stock. There’s a bed in the room, one you hadn’t noticed in your mad scramble to lock yourself in. A bigger bed than the one you’d slept on back at the inn, but just as sparse, with gray flannel sheets and a blue quilt folded and draped over the end of the bed.

The rest of the furniture in the room—two end tables, a chest of drawers, a desk, and two chairs situated in the corner of the room—appears so consistent in its design that you have to wonder if Price made them by hand as well. Hardly a reason to question it. You think to yourself that you’ll have to ask him how he finds the time only to quickly shake that thought away. Can’t be getting too chummy, certainly not if you don’t expect to be around in a month’s time. Hopefully less than that.

You chew on your lip at the thought of fleeing in the night.

It trickles into your thoughts while you open your suitcase on the bed and riffle around for your nightwear. Price will likely keep you under lock and key for at least the first week of your marriage, giving you little opportunity to take off any time soon. If only you’d held your tongue and played the demure bride, he might’ve had some cause to trust you. Certainly not now, after your most recent display.

Your own stupid fault, as usual. It’s not the first time your temper has gotten the better of you. You’ve faced worse consequences for it.

Outside the window on the far end of the room, a horse whinnies. You pause, remembering that Price hadn’t gone very far. When you glance out curiously, you see him letting the horses into the pen, giving one a good rub down the bridge of its nose. The horses seem to melt under his touch.

It’s strange watching him from far away. From a distance, it’s hard to reconcile him with the man that bent you over his desk not an hour ago and tanned your bottom. You cringe at the memory. It’s not that Price doesn’t seem like a man that would take his wife over his knee if he saw fit to do so, but you still can’t imagine yourself as that woman. When you think about it, it feels like a play, something you saw happen to someone else. Not you wailing and squirming like a cat in heat.

As if feeling your stare, he glances up at the window and winks when he catches your eye. With a squeak, you leap away from the window, scurrying back over to the bed.

A couple hours pass in restless contemplation, practically biting your nails to the quick. Eyeing the windowsill like you still might go over there just to check on what Price is up to outside. You hear him come back into the house once or twice, tensing up at the sound of his boots, only to be left vaguely disappointed when you hear him leave and the screen door slam shut behind him.

You spend so long holed up in the bedroom that you miss lunch entirely. Below you, you hear Price puttering around downstairs in the kitchen—the sound of a knife chopping vegetables and then the sizzle of meat on a pan. The hunger pangs nearly make you break, but you’ve gone without food before.

Your heart skips a beat when you hear him ascend the staircase again and place something just outside of your door. He doesn’t try coaxing you out this time, just heads back down the stairs and out the front door. Again, you ignore the pang of disappointment; ignore the urge to open the door and holler down the stairs for him to stay gone.

He leaves anyway.

Curiosity needles at you though, so you open the door up a crack when you’re sure you’re alone. There’s a plate at the foot of the door with vegetables and meat, slightly cooled but still fresh, the plate still warm. He must’ve known you wouldn’t try coming downstairs and fixed you up a plate.

You eat in silence at the desk, bad mood ripening. Angry at yourself and everyone else. Even John. Especially John. The audacity of fixing you up a plate, of thinking of you in the first place. Irritated enough to stand boldly by the window this time, hand clutched in the curtain, tracking the movement of his shoulders and hips when he moves with the horses and fetches water from the well. You lose sight of him a couple times as he finishes up the day’s chores around the house, but the flutter in your belly always settles when he comes back into view.

It’s easy to let yourself admire him from afar, somehow less humiliating without his eyes on you. He’s a solid man, body carved into its shape from the rough labor that’s part and parcel of living out on the frontier. A wide back tapering down to lean, narrow hips and thick, muscled thighs hewn from lifting and pulling and all manner of physical work. You bite your lip when you remember what it felt like to cling to that back and dig your nails into his arms.

You give your head a shake. It’s dangerous to let a thought like that latch on.

In the few hours between lunch and sunset, you occupy yourself by reading one of the books stowed away in your suitcase. Then get bored and refold your clothes. The horses bray when they’re taken into the stables for the evening. The crickets out in the bushes in the yard chirp as the sun sets pink in the far distance. It’s quieter out here in the plains than back in the city, you think, something you haven’t yet had the time to appreciate.

When Price comes in for the night, you’re firm in your resolve to keep the door shut. If lunch at the door was just an attempt to butter you up, he has another thing coming. In a house this big, there’s likely a guest room or somewhere else to sleep—a sofa or a sleeping bag tucked away under the stairs. He’ll just have to make do while you take the bedroom. There’ll be no sharing a bed with the man that grabbed your backside like a piece of meat.

He doesn’t come up the stairs right away. Like before, you hear him rustle up supper, spatula scraping against a pan and knife coming down on a chopping block again and again. Not enough time has passed since lunch for you to feel more than peckish. You’re thankful for that when you hear him sit down to eat.

The knock at the door startles you. You hadn’t heard him come up the stairs. “Ready to talk now?”

You stare balefully at the door. “No.”

“We have to figure this out sometime, darling.”

“No, we don’t.”

“I’m sorry if I gave you a fright earlier, but, honey, that’s how husbands kiss their wives. Nothing improper about it.”

“I’m not frightened, I’m just not—we don’t need to do any of that,” you huff, embarrassed all over again. “You’ve hardly given me any time to even think. I didn’t know you from Adam this morning and now we’re married.”

Price sighs, the sound muffled through the door. “What am I going to do with you, honey?” It’s said to himself, a fond exasperation that puts you on edge all over again. He has no right to be amused with you, no right to be delighted and charmed by your ire.

“Well, you can sleep somewhere else for the time being. I’d prefer the bed to myself.”

He lets out a low, dark laugh. “There’s not a chance in hell that I’m sleeping anywhere but with my wife from this point on. You oughta come to terms with that quick.”

“Well then, you can sleep out there because I’m not unlocking the door!”

He lets out a mean sound, almost mocking. “Yeah, ‘bout time I addressed that, huh?”

His words make you frown until you hear a floorboard creak as Price does something on the other side of the door. Then the doorknob jiggles. Horrified, you watch as the door unlocks and the knob turns, your husband’s body filling out the door frame. You’d forgotten how well he could fill one out. He almost has to duck to come inside, mused hair from working outside all day brushing against the top of the frame.

“Always put a key on the top of the door, just in case,” he explains, pinching the little silver key between his thumb and forefinger before shutting the door. Your heart jumps when he locks it behind him. “Ready to talk now, honey?”

#ceil writing #cod mw2 #cod x reader #captain price #captain john price #john price #cod price #price x you #price x reader #price/reader #john price x reader #mail order bride au

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lilyginnyblackv2 · 1 year

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Now that Buddy Daddies is finished, I’m gonna say it: SPOILERS!

Buddy Daddies really is for the aces, aros, queerplatonic partners, and platonic life partners out there.

I know, 100% that there are going to be some people out there that are going to say, “See! It really was just queerbait all along” or some who are going to bemoan the fact that there were no declarations of romantic love or kiss or whatever. I’m sure this part right here:

Miri: “Didn’t you slip out yesterday to go drinking with a girl again?”

Caused some frowns and I do get it. Because of this, the queerbait and Kazuki and Rei are just friends dialogue will continue and follow the series around. But, this episode has made it clear that Kazuki and Rei love not only Miri, but each other as well.

They are a work partners (相棒 - aibou)

They are partners raising a child together. (相方 - aikata).

They’ve moved (I’m pretty sure their diner is in Okinawa for reasons I’ll get to in another post), they’ve opened a business together, one which has a part of Kazuki’s last name in it (来栖 - Kurusu is his last name, the 栖 (su) part of his name means “nest.”), and Rei’s words to his father: Miri, Kazuki, and I share a bond stronger than blood.

They are a family. They love each other.

Of course, friends can be a part of a family. Friends can love each other, but there are also reasons why people who are in situations like co-parenting, queerplatonic relationships, platonic life partnerships, and etc. don’t refer to their bonds as friendships and the people they are co-parenting or in a partnership with as their friends, but as words that give some space for those grey areas in-between.

Friendships are strong, deep, and beautiful. Platonic love is love and is powerful.

But, there are definitely still different sets of expectations and boundaries that come with friendships vs. other relationship dynamics.

Kazuki and Rei’s situation falls outside of the usual friendship expectations and boundaries and sits somewhere between that, family and partnership.

I know this topic has been talked to death about. But, I felt like I needed to write about and address it one final time since Buddy Daddies has come to an end (though, who knows about a potential Daughter Daddies!) Especially after Miri’s line to Kazuki. (I feel I could also go into open relationship dynamics, polyamorous relationships, and etc. but that feels like it would be derailing).

Basically, I just wanted to get one final post out on this. I was very pleased with this ending episode. It made my heart so happy and warm, and I know I’ve said it before, but this series really speaks to me as someone who is aroace. Aroace characters and our relationship dynamics have basically no rep, so even if this series wasn’t intended to be written with a queerplatonic relationship dynamic in mind, they ended up writing a beautiful depiction of one that makes me and what I would want from a relationship of some kind, finally feel seen.

#Buddy Daddies #BD #Kazurei #Kazuki Kurusu #Rei Suwa #ace #aro #queer #queerplatonic #platonic life partnerships #Miri Unasaka #BD spoilers #Buddy Daddies spoilers #long post #image heavy post

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strnsvt · 6 months

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yoon jeonghan — pineapple's kiss and dad's wisdom.

dad!jeonghan ; mom!reader

jeonghan was greeted by the sound of laughter echoing through the house. a smile tugged at the corners of his lips as he kicked off his shoes, the familiar warmth of home enveloping him.

making his way into the living room, he found you and ara sitting on the couch, your faces lit up with joy.

"what's all this laughter about?" jeonghan asked, kissing you and ara on the cheek before settling onto the carpeted floor, leaning his back against the couch, loosening his tie.

"go on, tell your papa what happened at school today," you prompted.

ara's laughter bubbled over as she leaned forward, eager to share her story with her father. "pineapple kissed me on the cheek!"

jeonghan's eyebrows shot up in surprise, "pineapple kissed you on the cheek?" he repeated.

you nodded, adding "a boy in her class, she calls him pineapple cause he looks like one,"

jeonghan's eyebrows furrowed in bemusement, "first of all, how does one look like a pineapple?" he stammered, trying to wrap his head around the peculiar nickname.

"and secondly," he continued, his tone shifting to a more serious one, "you can't let a boy just kiss you like that, ara. you need to set boundaries,"

you nodded in agreement, placing a comforting hand on ara's shoulder. "your papa's right, ara. it's important to respect yourself and make sure others respect you too."

"i know, ma, papa. but i like him. and i liked when he kissed me. just like how you kiss ma,"

jeonghan sighs. his heart softening at ara's innocent nonetheless. "ara, sweetheart," he began gently, "i'm married to your ma, which is why we can do things like kiss each other. but for you, you're still very young,"

"that's right, honey. when you're older, you'll understand more about relationships and what's appropriate," you say, offering a small smile.

jeonghan paused, his thoughts swirling as he considered how to proceed. he recalled ara's innocent confusion about the concept of boyfriends, and he didn't want to inadvertently introduce more confusion into her young mind so he avoides using that word.

"ara," he began, "see, papa will be very upset if you allow a boy to kiss you," he says, his tone soft yet very firm.

ara glanced at you and then jeonghan as she nodded solemnly with a smile, "ok ma, papa. i'll listen," she said, her voice filled with sincerity.

jeonghan's heart swelled with pride as he reached out to gently ruffle ara's hair. "that's my girl," he said softly, a warm smile gracing his lips.

as bedtime approached, jeonghan lifted ara onto his back, ready to give her a piggyback ride to her room. ara giggled with delight, wrapping her arms around her father's neck as they made their way down the hallway.

once ara was tucked into bed and drifting off to sleep, jeonghan returned to your room, he noticed you chuckling to yourself, a mischievous glint in your eye.

"what?" jeonghan asked, his brow raised in confusion as he undos the buttons on his wrist.

"it was just a kiss, jeonghan," you replied playfully, your eyes sparkling with mischief as you watched him.

jeonghan chuckled softly, shaking his head in amusement. "i know, i know," he said, his tone light and affectionate. "but you know how protective i can get when it comes to our little girl. she's five. she doesn't need a boyfriend,"

"boyfriend? do you think she knows even the meaning of it?"

"she doesn't. that's why i avoided using that word infront of her," jeonghan smiles, scoffing, "pineapple," he muttered, the corners of his lips curling up into a fond smile.

you chuckle too, "that was the nickname me and my friends had for you,"

"huh? when?"

"when i was crushing on you, of course,"

jeonghan's eyes widened in surprise at your revelation. "pineapple? really?" he asked, a mixture of amusement and curiosity evident in his tone.

you nodded, a soft smile playing on your lips. "yeah, it was just a silly nickname we came up with," you explained, your cheeks flushing slightly at the memory. "but it's funny how things come full circle, isn't it?"

jeonghan chuckled, shaking his head in fond disbelief. "i never would have guessed," he admitted, his gaze lingering on you with newfound warmth. "but i'm glad you stopped calling me that."

you grinned, reaching out to playfully poke his arm. "well, you'll always be my pineapple," you teased, a hint of affection in your voice.

#strnsvt's writing #seventeen x reader #seventeen fluff #seventeen imagines #svt imagines #svt x reader #jeonghan x reader #jeonghan x y/n #jeonghan x you #yoon jeonghan #jeonghan #seventeen x y/n #seventeen x you #seventeen

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deadtired-highkeyenergetic · 5 months

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Catstarion

Sorry for the slow uploads, been going out with friends and working for a bit but here's the next one, inspired by @bg-brainrot's post here. Thank you for the idea!

As you set your cup down, ready for another round of wine, you sense something, no, someone staring intently at you. Turning around, you find Astarion standing at the stairs leading up to the rooms, ruby red eyes piercing into your very soul as he stares, arms resting on the banister.

You’ve known him long enough to know what this means so with a sigh, you thank the bartender for his hospitality, excuse yourself from your increasingly drunk group of companions and head over to the stairs.

The vampire grins when he sees you approaching, gently pulling you to one side by your arm.

“Already turning in for the night, my sweet?” His fingers trail up your arm, lips whispering in your ear. The tips of your ears burn, feeling his words ghost over them.

“So it seems,” you reply. “Care to join me?”

The corners of his lips curve upwards, a sparkle in his eyes as he takes your hand in his, intertwining your fingers and gently takes the lead, thumb running over the back of your palm. His wordless answer brings a small smile to your face and you let him guide you, annoyance left at the bar counter.

He turns the corner and opens the door to his room, ushering you in before closing the door behind him. He remains standing at the door as you make your way to the bed, getting comfortable before patting the spot next to you but he doesn’t move.

Raising an eyebrow, you tuck yourself under the covers before patting the pillow next to yours and yet he refuses to budge. Well, third time’s the charm, right? You open your arms and he immediately shoots over, burying himself in your embrace. Amused, you chuckle, which sends reverberations through him. He happily hums in response, shifting so that you have easy access to the entirety of his hair and grabs one of your hands, dropping it on the top his head.

“Don’t worry, I haven’t forgotten,” you snort as you begin to run your fingers through his soft white curls. He lets out a sigh of contentment, basking in the familiar rhythm of your fingers combing his locks, massaging his scalp along the way. The gentle movements start to lull him into a trance and he feels his eyes begin to close, his grip on your clothes loosening but then you do the unthinkable.

You shift.

Immediately his eyes snap open and he turns to glower up at you. You raise your hands in surrender, eyeing him warily as he scowls.

“My love, please do not interrupt my trance again.”

“Sorry, won’t happen again.”

“It better not.”

With a huff, he turns, stretching out across your legs like a cat before curling back up, feeling your fingers continue their movements through his hair. He loves it when you do this, when you let him trance whilst resting on you without making a single fuss even though you have little to no intention of going to sleep yourself. He loves how you don’t mind carving out time for him amidst your busy schedule, you could always ignore him until you were done drinking but you always responded to his call, putting aside your own needs and wants for him. He knew he could ask anything of you and you would do it, without crossing the boundaries the both of you had set at the start of your relationship of course.

To him, you always had something better to do than attend to his petty whining but to you, he always came first and he still couldn’t fathom why. Maybe one day he would, perhaps if he sat you down and talked to you about it, he would understand, but that would be after The Absolute was defeated and the worms were removed. He was becoming more positive about the party’s prospects in a fight against The Absolute, although he preferred hiding such feelings.

As your fingers continue to work their magic in his hair, his thoughts drift to the many ways you’ve upended his life. You’ve shown him what it means to love, what it means to be genuine, what it means to care about others. You’ve added to his life, and changed things that were already in his life. You’d made it your whole mission to help him associate actions that once caused him pain and misery with something more pleasant, the only reason why he could slip into a trance whilst you ran your fingers through his hair. Back then, such an action always came with —

Cough.

Astarion groans, reaching up to poke your cheek, “I’m trying to trance here, love. A little peace and quiet would be nice.”

“Sorry,” you pout, giving him the puppy dog eyes he can never resist and he lets the matter slide, returning back to his thoughts and attempt to trance.

You’re always careful to not pull his hair, with knots always being gently untied either with your fingers or a comb should one be nearby. You’re also the only one he trusts to take care of his hair, whether it be washing or helping to maintain it.

He feels you rest your free hand on his waist, the warmth from your palm spreading through his cold undead body and feels the urge to slip into a trance wash over him once more. Knowing he is safe in your arms, for nothing will be able to hurt him when you’re around, he lets the urge take hold, readying himself for whatever nightmares could plague his rest.

That is if you didn’t sneeze right there and then.

Astarion clicks his tongue, refusing to even open his eyes and exclaims, “Gods, how am I supposed to trance in these conditions?”

He buries his face into your thighs, putting up a dramatic show of angrily muttering under his breath while you apologise, struggling to hold in your laughter.

“Come on Astarion. If you want to trance properly, you should’ve just told me to go to sleep!”

“But then you wouldn’t be able to do…this!” He gestures vaguely in the direction of your hand which is still buried beneath his white curls, letting out yet another huff.

“You’ll have to choose one then, Star. I can’t seem to do both.” There’s mirth in your voice and for a moment Astarion wonders if you’re just toying with him but then the look in your eyes reassures him and he lets out a sigh of resignation, sitting up so that you can get into a comfortable position to sleep.

“Fine. Sleep next to me, my love.” He wraps you in a cocoon made from his arms, nuzzling into your neck and feels his fangs press against your skin — the only barrier between him and your blood. Yet you don’t flinch, trusting that he will only bite after asking you for permission and snuggle against him under the covers.

“Stop spending so much time with them,” you hear him mumble. So that was why he was acting so weirdly all night.

“You have me all to yourself every night, don’t you worry.” You press a peck to the top of his head, tucking him tighter against your body.

“And you’ll have me for all eternity too.”

#baldur's gate 3 #bg3 #astarion bg3 #baldurs gate astarion #astarion romance #astarion x durge #astarion x reader #astarion x tav #astarion x you #astarion ancunin #tavstarion #durgestarion #bg3 fluff #bg3 fic

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theblueflower05 · 1 year

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Just a Little Taste

A/N: Welp. Somehow my breeding/breastfeeding kinks manifested themselves into a story. I wrote this sky high on painkillers and I am a little in love with the whole premise. @tiredmamaissy -I hope more than anything that you enjoy this. You deserve all of the goodness on this site. Your Masterlist is my personal spank bank lol

Word Count: 3k+

Warnings: This story is Filthy. Smut with very little plot. Breastfeeding. Pussy Eating. Slight mommy kink if you squint. Very pregnant reader getting pleasured, because pregnant beings can still be sexual. Aged up!Neteyam

You are responsible for cultivating your own online experience, please do not interact if any of these tags are triggering to you. Minors DNI.

Summary: You’re eight months pregnant with Neteyams child, and after a long day, you both need a little relief. Neteyam x Human! Reader

"Sugar, Honey, Iced Tea

Bumble-bee on the scene.

Yeah, I'd give up my bakery to have a piece of your pie"

- See You Again, Tyler the Creator ft Kali Uchis

Life in the village is always busy. Constantly bustling with life and movement as everyone; human scientist, Avatar and Na’vi alike, rush to keep things afloat.

High Camp is so different then Home Tree had been, the rage of war adding a constant edge to long days and restless nights. You miss the comfort of a slow life, of hazy days down in the jungle. The jagged cliffs of the Hallelujah Mountains still don’t quite feel like home to you.

Still, you go about your daily duties.

Being a Pandoran raised human had always given you a different insight, the two massively different cultures you we’re brought up in clashing and mending to create a skill set that was like no other- it had taken many years of painful trial and error to find your place within the Omiticaya, but healing had always come naturally.

Both holistic and surgical alike. You’d spent years shadowing Mo’at and learning the ancient herbal ways of the people, while well as taking advantage of the many PHD toting scientist back at Hell’s Gate. Medicine had no boundaries, was a way for you to feel close to both sides of yourself. To broach the gap between human and clansman.

You find your skills being needed more than ever. The ever constant raids against the RDA means your hands are rarely idle, forever in movement as you tend to the wounded. Some days you sit in the big Healers Tent with Mo’at and the other Taskarem, and others you’re in the makeshift Medi Bay, which is really more of an Avatar Pod Trailer turned OR, with the handful of human surgeons.

The long hours spent on your feet leave you sore and exhausted, but you have to pull your weight.

Even if said weight is far heavier than usual as of late-

“Y/N” you’re broken out of your thoughts by Max- as he enters the trailer with a holo-tab in hand and a concerned look in his dark eyes “What are you still doing here?”

“I was just finishing up inventory- our antibiotic stock is back way up. Jake was right, those helicopter raids were more than worth it” you’d sorted out the tiny vials of vital medicine by hand, not wanting any to be misplaced or mislabeled.

“You don't think maybe you should head home?” He continues and you sigh.

You miss your tent, and the soft bed of furs that lay inside the secure warm flaps. And the man that waits for you inside of the patchwork leather walls-

“I’m fine” you assure. And really, you are.

It's a fact you have to keep reminding people of.

Yes, you’re as big as a Strumbeast, but you are no less competent. No less able bodied.

Pregnancy is one of the most natural parts of life, a base staple in all’s existence. There are plenty of pregnant Omiticaya women who were expected to play their roles, even as the battle raged outside the safety of the mountain cave system.

It was the nature of your pregnancy that was more…fragile then average. Inside your womb grew a child that would be the first of it’s kind. A scientific mystery: no one had even known it was possible for Na’vi and humans to procreate.

And yet all of the evidence now lies under your shirt. Your stomach round and pronounced, full of growing life.

Full of the love between you and the Olo’eyktan’s eldest son.

Neteyam had left his permanent mark on you. Had part of himself growing inside of you. The thoughts we’re enough to make your knees buckle if you focused on them too hard.

“You’ve been here since 6am, you really should get some rest. Take one of the empty bunks if you want. Have you checked your blood pressure-”

You’re a grown woman. You’re not going to huff and puff and roll your eyes, but fuck, do you want to.

Everyone was so overbearing lately.

Norm and Max we’re constantly breathing down your neck; “The baby has a different growth rate then a human child, we need to monitor the way that your body is responding” Followed closely by Jake who watches you with sharp eagle like eyes and Neytiri, who used to all but ignore your presence, constantly checking in on you throughout the day. Mo’at’s always poking and prodigy, and Kiri almost always has her hands on you in some way shape or form.

You are glad for the support, happy that this baby would be so loved.

But really, you missed being treated like the competent, independent woman you knew you we’re.

“My blood pressure is fine. I thought since we ruled out preeclampsia we weren’t going to worry about it anymore” you know that it’s not going to silence his worry, but still. You can try.

Max goes on one of his science mambo jumbo spiels, and by the end of it you’re waddling out of the lab and back to your hut, annoyed as shit but placating your pseudo father figure all the same. Only a month and a half mor of this and then things could go back to normal.

Everything had just…changed so quickly.

You 're a caretaker by nature. Caring for others is easy, feels right. You’d tucked the much older scientists into bed when you we’re just a pre-teen. Made dinners. Looked out for Spider and the other Sully’s-

And the role reversal still didn't quite sit right with you. Your control freak ways didn't do well with not being the one in charge- you’d been stripped of your title so to speak. You we’re supposed to relax into your new role, enjoy being doted over before the nine month’s we’re over.

You and Neteyam’s shared tent is in the centered in the cave, close to his families, but standing on its own. As private as anyone could get in the busy, close quartered camp. The walls of the hut are familiar, adorned with your combined belongings. Cozy and familiar.

You shimmy free of your confining bra, step out of your cargo pants, then toe off your boots, releasing your swollen sock covered feet with a groan before collapsing into your well loved bed, the soft blankets and familiar scent of your mate lulling you into a deep state of peace.

It’s kind of wild how quickly you can fall asleep these days. Growing a little person from scratch tends to burn a lot of energy and the moment you relax, you’re out like a light.

You don't wake up, even when the horns are sounded for the return of the War Party.

Not when Neteyam makes his way through the camp and enters the tent. He’s wearty, grime covered and hunched over. He only softens when he sees you, tucked safely, into his bed. Your eyes still closed and face still scrunched up as he strips out of his battle band and shin covers. He’s quiet, washing off with the large freshwater basin in the corner before making his way over to his much-missed bed mat.

It isn't until he's crawled under the blankets and wiggled his way as close to you as possible that you begin to stir. His large cat like snout nuzzles into the vulnerable crevice of your neck, chuffing hot breaths against the smooth skin.

You’re not upset at him for waking you up, a drowsy half alert smile stretches over your lips as your hands run up his strong back. Gently working the tense muscles.

He gets so greedy when he comes back from the War runs. He needs to be comforted, to be held and you are all too willing to comply.

Everyone else infantiles you now, and yeah, Neteyam could get a little intense and overprotective, but your relationship had always worked because you were the one person in all of Pandora that babied the future chief.

He was such a sweet man, with so much responsibility on his plate. You loved nothing more than holding him in your arms. Letting him release any and all tension because you had him. You, a tiny soft skinned human, were the barrier between him and the ruthless world.

You’d be such a great mother to his children. His hind brain purrs at the thought. That even through all of the controversy, he knows he’d chosen the right mate. Little and fierce, he hopes the baby is just like you.

“Are you okay?” You ask, tone hushed in the darkness of the tent. The only light coming from the small dying embers of the firepit in the center of the space. Hypnotic shadows dance along the canvas walls and Neteyam's breathing grows shallow as he sinks into it.

The way you smell. The way your heart beats, strong against his cheek. The way your plump body feels so good under his wandering hands. He hadn't been okay, just moments ago. He was delirious, so sick of the fighting that he felt ill with it.

But how could any of those bad feelings exist when he had you waiting for him? Ready to welcome him into your body, your heart, your mind. He doesn't think he could survive without knowing the solace of your love.

“I’m okay, narlor(beauty). Just missed you” he mutters, still trying to dig his face deeper into your skin. He wants to escape inside of you, you chuckle at his futile attempts to mend you both into one entity. His large palms rest against your bloated belly, tenderly and your heart flutters “Missed you both so much”

Being so loved is overwhelming.

You wouldn't have it any other way.

“I missed you, my sweet baby. I missed you all day” you assure him with the words you know he needs to hear. “Our son here thought it would be fun to jump on his sa’nok’s bladder all day. It was like was playing the wokau(pendulum drum) all day long- I spent hours in running back and forth to the bathroom”

Neteyam's laugh is deep and rich. Thoroughly pleased to listen to your stories of your day, eager to hear every minute detail. Desperate to drown out visions of blood and gun smoke with your voice.

“Ah, you have to be nice to your momma, little one” he chastises the bump, raising your shirt over your head, wanting that flimsy barrier gone. His lips trail over the tight skin of your bulging belly as he speaks to his child.

Your son, still safe inside your soft body, knows his fathers voice already. Recognizes that slightly accented cadence, and squirms inside of you happily.

Neteyam usually speaks strictly in Na’vi to your unborn child-

“He needs to know the language of our people, first and foremost”

-he’ll spend hours whispering his mother tongue into your flesh. It always leaves you boneless and shaking. Feeling so special and cared for. Na’vi, though your second language, is familiar to you. You’re fluent in the language- but fuck. The way your mate speaks it is the most beautiful thing. It’s musical, he tells sprawling stories with his colorful words.

There is one English he’s very fond of though. Every time it leaves his plush mouth it makes you grin, sharp. Knowingly.

“Are you gonna be nice to momma, Neteyam?” you question him after a while. His ears quirk, swiveling on his head and his tale flicks once, in obvious excitement.

You know what he’s wanted, ever since he woke you up by nuzzling at your chest. Ever since he peeled off your top and left your heavy breasts bare. Did he think you missed the way his golden gaze would flick to them, eyeing them hungrily.

He needs this as much as you do, but as usual, your sweet boy is too selfless to ask. Won't trouble you with his wants unless you bring it up first.

You reach for his big hand that rests on your belly, and drag it to where you need him. His palm enveloping your tits, the rough callus’s catching on your sensitive nipple just right-

Your pregnancy had been different than regular humanoid pregnancies. Your body worked hard, thrown into overdrive in an attempt to keep up with the fast growing fetus in your womb. You’d started lactating months ago, far earlier then normal. Your breasts firm, full with milk. Ready to feed the child that had not yet come into the world.

At first it had been both painful and embarrassing. You had no child to drink what you were producing and the other breastfeeding women in the tribe we’re hesitant to feed their babies your tawtute(human) milk. Already over emotional due to the hormone change, you’d wept at the fact that you had no one to give what your body readily made.

The fact that you couldn't be a bigger part of your community due to your human heritage, combined with the intense pain that came from having backed up ducts had been too much,

Eventually you’d turned to Neteyam, both your eyes and shirt soaking wet. Begged him to help you. And of course, as always, he did.

It should be awkward, or shameful- but connecting with him on any level is something you cherish. Why would this be any different?

“I’m always nice to you, aren't I, love?” Neteyam gruffs as he gently works at the breast in his hands. Its firm and full of milk, his mouth waters “Do they hurt again?”

“Mhmm” you whine pathetically, and you’re not lying. The skin of your chest is now marred by stretch marks and you’d had to stuff precious, hard to come by toilet paper down your bra all day to keep them from spilling over “They’re so full, Nete”

“Oh” He hums, thumbing at your nipple “Poor momma, I’ll help you. Don't worry” his lips are wet against your skin as he kisses his way to your breast, his tongue peeking out to circle your puffy nipple. A pearlescent drop of milk tops the rosy bud and he groans as it hits his taste buds.

He tells you that you taste good, often. The juices of your pussy, your spit soaked kisses. He’s always been greedy for it, his tongue bullying its way into your holes, desperate for your essence. Your milk is just as delicious as the rest of you.

It quickly goes from kitten licking, wide wet stripes against your pebbled nipple to sucking your big breast as far into his mouth as he could. Careful of his fangs as he gorges himself on your flesh.

He’s loudly appreciative as he suckles on your nipple. Grunting and humming and moaning at the flavor. Your arms come around him, cradling his head to your bosom because it feels so good. Having him this close, knowing that he'd do anything to take care of you. That he truly loved the way you tasted-

Many people thought you and Neteyam would never last. It was lust, they’d claim. Curiosity. A childhood friendship that would fizzle out eventually. Na’vi needed Tsaheylu, it was the lifeblood of all their relationships. Why would the much desired future Olo’eyktan stay with you if he couldn't even properly bond you?

While you couldn't deny that there we’re doubt filled moments that you yourself wondered why he’d chosen you and stayed so loyal to you…you still felt your own form of connection to him. While you’d love to make that sacred bond with him, you didn't feel any less close to your mate.

You never thought that you could be so intertwined with another being.

As Neteyam takes his fill from your breast, you massage the base of his Kuru, firm enough that it makes him hiss. You have no special braid of your own, but he’s always been very free with his when it comes to you.

You can do with as you please. Stroke it. Lick it. Massage it. Hell, he’d even let you touch glowing pink tendrils at the end of it before. Let you feel his exposed nerves, so vulnerable and raw in your hands that he had shed tears as you explored.

Nothing was taboo in your relationship. There was no space undiscovered between you.

Your bodies we’re so very different, and yet you knew his like the back of your hand. All of the strong muscles and hard sinew. The cobalt expanse of his skin didn't have one blemish that you haven't memorized. You could point out his striped pattern in a sea of other Na’vi.

And he knows you right back.

Loves to dig his fingers into your doughy hips, into your pillowy thighs. Your wide ass and ample chest. He loves your form, goes crazy for all of your alien curves. He never cared for your human modesty, he’d wanted to part your ass cheeks and stare at plump of your pussy for as long as he could remember. Wanted to strip you of all of those clothes and just stare.

The fact that he gets to do just that, for the rest of your lives, is his favorite, favorite thing.

You watch him eagerly as he slowly nurses. You can't get enough of the sight of him, his hollowed cheeks, the bob of his throat as he swallows your free flowing milk. He's so strong, his muscles flex in the dim light. All of that strength, and yet he’s so very gentle with you, his rough tongue laving at your sore buds every couple minutes. Soothing and tickling you all the same.

You giggle at a particularly quick swipe, letting out a small squeal as Neteyam’s tongue plays with the flesh in his mouth. His eyes peek open, glittering with mirth and low boiling heat as he meets your gaze. Whin his lips split into a smile, a dribble of translucent white milk escapes. Trickles down from the corners of his lips.

Heat pulses between your legs and you know he can smell how aroused you are.

Neteyam has always been able to turn you on without even trying. A well spoken word, or even a pointed look could get you running your thighs together. All desperate to get him alone and put your hands all over him.

You hate that you cant kiss him the way you want to, your Exo Mask, while necessary to your survival can be suck a fucking menace sometimes.

Your thumb traces his lips, the ones you want pressed against your own so bad. You rub the spilled milk from his chin. Cleaning him up in a way that's so simple, and so beyond erotic.

He breaks eye contact first, like he just can't look at you anymore. His brows all scrunched up, his chest raising and falling rapidly. He releases your sloppy nipple, completely covered in his saliva, and presses his face against the damp skin. Making a sound of distress.

Your fingernails skritch at his scalp, tangled in his many braids “What is it, baby?”

“I wanna fuck you so bad. Eywa, do you even smell yourself, Y/N? So good. I have to-”

“Yeah, yeah, okay” You nod, agreeing blindly. He can have whatever he wants.

“Fuck you hard, though. Gotta pound you. I know I shouldn't but it’ll be alright, huh? Won't hurt the baby?” his face is still buried in your skin, you cant even see his expression as he pleads for your pussy. It makes you so hot.

You push at his chest, needing him to get off of you for just a moment. He’s heavy as shit, a dead weight- doesn't really move until you're pouting and demanding for him to just give you a little space.

Enough that you can wiggle out of your panties and spread your thighs wide for him. Your swollen, sticky pussy on display for your mate.

His nostrils flare, and his thin tail whips wildly behind him.

When he swings your thick thighs up onto his broad shoulders, you let out a low, appreciative moan.

“Such a good boy for momma” you praise him the way the people praise the Great Mother. The cradle of your thighs a sanctuary where you both come to worship.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

Welp, I should be finishing up Part Three of First Love/Late Spring or plotting out future installments of The Sweetest Sylaung, but here I am writing nursing filth. Lol I truly have zero regrets, this story was so very self fulfilling(even though it partially came from a request). I hope you guys enjoyed though

As mentioned many times before, requests are currently open. Please send in all that good shit. I could use a good distraction from real life!

#neteyam smut #neteyam x reader #neteyam x human reader #neteyam sully smut #aged up neteyam #Neteyam x pregnant reader

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windvexer · 5 months

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Using tarot to read on magical events in your own practice: quick theory, new card meanings, and spread ideas

this post is OC based on my personal tarot practice; the examples given are hypothetical for the sake of this post.

Well-meaning guy: "If you think that event was a bad omen, why not read tarot to clarify?"

Person who learned tarot from popular online resources and introspection-focused art decks: "I drew the 6/Cups, so I guess my ward falling off the wall is about my inner child?"

Tarot meanings change and evolve over time. Historical meanings are often not the same, or even contrary to, modern meanings. (Consider, 6/Pentacles: the French present moment was misinterpreted to mean presents, gifts).

By acknowledging that many modern meanings available for tarot cards are modern interpretations for modern concerns, many of which have fuckall to do with witchcraft, we can also acknowledge that we can apply our own sets of meanings to tarot to achieve personal interpretations in pursuit of personal goals.

I call this concept symbol sets, and you can apply your own symbol sets to certain tarot readings in order to rapidly obtain information about magical events in your life.

Symbol sets can be swapped out for each reading. You can intend to operate on your "normal meanings" for a typical reading, and then intend to operate with "magical omen meanings" for another reading.

There are no such things as universal tarot card meanings; there are some traditional meanings, some historical meanings, and many modern meanings. Adjust what each card means to you to your heart's delight.

The more symbol sets I've developed and practiced with, the more versatile and accurate my tarot reading has become. Working with custom symbol sets might be the single biggest leap in my reading ability in 16 years of practice. At least, it feels that way!

Quick n' Dirty Symbol Set for Magical Omens, Appropriate for Everyday Use

1. Apply general portents to each suit which matches your magical practice.

Here is one set that could be suitable to troubleshooting potentially magic events:

Swords, or Air: Misfortune, betrayal, malefica, ill-intent, adversity, due to harmful (even if unintentional) spirit action, pointless or wasted effort. Sometimes, banishing, binding and hexes.

Wands, or Fire: A lot of power, excessive power, due to your own actions, uncontained energy, something you did was very much overdone. Sometimes, protection and empowerment.

Pentacles, or Earth: Mundane, physical and normal reasons, an everyday occurrence, mundane but natural growth and change. Sometimes, unlocking and unblocking.

Cups, or Water: Blessings, magic working as intended (even if unexpectedly), the normal course of magical events, magical growth and change. Sometimes, cleansing and purifying.

Major Arcana: Guiding spirits and gods; their behaviors, guidance, or messages.

A spirit worker might like to add an additional layer of complexity, which modifies the prior set:

Court Cards: The actions of another being, such as a practitioner, god, or spirit, whether they acted intentionally to bring about the event or not.

(Further breakdown, as an example: Swords courts are beings intentionally acting badly; Wands courts are the most important spirits of your path; Pentacles courts are mundane folk or spirits unrelated to your path; Water courts are other practitioners, or spirits related to your path without being in your "inner court.")

Interpret any card drawn within these principles. Here are a few random examples. Let's say, a money spell has failed to produce results, and we'd like to know why.

5/Cups [disappointment, failure]: This is the normal course of magical events; the spell wasn't cast well, and so nothing is happening.

9/Wands [determination, boundaries]: A lot of energy was raised, but incorrectly targeted or released; the energy is cooped up.

Judgment [judgment]: An important spirit in your path wants you to deal with what you have been avoiding, and will interfere with your magic until you face them.

Spread Ideas

"What's going on with that thing?" | 3 cards

Card 1: The source or cause

Card 2: The current state of affairs

Card 3: Suggested action

Example; the money jar doesn't work: Card 1, King/Swords: The source of failure was the person in the discord server who promised to curse you for not feeling the same way about Destiel as they did. Card 2, Page/Pentacles: The current state of affairs is that as a symptom of the curse, an unaware person or spirit is blocking the prosperity you seek. Card 3, Queen/Cups: Ask a benevolent spirit or helpful practitioner friend to assist you in unblocking the situation.

Determining responsibility | 2 cards

Card 1: Why this thing happened

Card 2: Why it didn't happen; one thing that wasn't the cause at all

Example; the ward fell off the wall: Card 1, 10/Pentacles: This happened because of random happenstance in the home; it was not a magical event. Card 2, Ace/Swords: This action was unrelated to malefica or bad spirits or things like that.

Foresight Before Acting | 4 cards

Card 1: The current state of affairs

Card 2: The outcome of your intended plan of action

Card 3: Recommended plan of action

Card 4: The outcome of the recommended plan

Example; the spirits did not seem to appear during a spirit petition spell: Card 1, 3/Wands: Sufficient energy was raised to attract the attention of spirits, but they may not have been properly called to action. Card 2, 6/Swords: Your plan to call the spirits back and re-cast the spell is a fruitless attempt at a transition into a new plan. Card 3, Empress: Communicate with your primary goddess or powerful spirit of the earth and obtain input and guidance. Card 4, Magician: This plan will result in obtaining important magical information about this type of summoning spell you are trying to achieve.

#tbl #tarot #witchcraft

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dukeofdelirium · 5 months

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????? creepy…? Aang didn’t view Katara as a mother or mother figure within his life, lol. Like, ever. Show me when and where Aang ever thought of her in this way?

Y’all are invalidating the love Aang had for his father Gyatso who actually raised him from the time he was a baby. Aang viewed Gyatso as his parent. He loved Gyatso as his parent. He proudly states to Katara and Sokka that Gyatso “taught me everything I know.” Stop erasing Aang’s bond with his actual parental figure in canon. Aang’s love for Gyatso and grief over losing him is what everything else in the story revolves around. The disrespect you idiots show to this relationship is ridiculous. We need to start gatekeeping this show I’m so serious

The first thing Aang did when he met Katara was to ask her to go play with him as the children they are. He then reminded her that she was still a child, too. Aang always viewed Katara as his peer and equal, his best friend—NEVER his parent.

If Aang viewed Katara as his parent, that means he would view her as having authority over him. Which he doesn’t. That also means he would expect her to care for him, which he very much doesn’t.

In fact, the exact opposite is depicted. Aang actually canonically struggles with and rejects Katara’s affections toward him, multiple times. It is portrayed as difficult for him to allow her to show him love, something he has to get over as the show continues. Aang never asks Katara for anything, and he doesn’t expect her to do things for him. She does all of these things of her own free will. Katara also hates that Toph views her as motherly. The only time Katara even speaks on this is when she is arguing with Sokka and Toph. Guess who isn’t a part of this in regards to viewing Katara as motherly? Aang. He doesn’t speak on any of this and the episode doesn’t focus on his and Katara’s relationship because they don’t treat one another the way Katara treats Toph and Sokka. The only time Katara ever acts “motherly” toward Aang is in that very episode, and it’s played for laughs… because she isn’t his mom lol

Also, the EIP episode wasn’t “insane” 😂 and it definitely wasn’t proof that Katara didn’t love Aang. If anything, she’s verbally affirming she does love him romantically. She just set a boundary, because she was afraid he might die and she would be unable to revive him like she had in the book 2 finale. It’s really not that difficult to understand…

Also.. if Aang getting broken out of the ice is a metaphor for …. Childbirth…. Then did Katara birth Appa too ? 😭😂 help it’s sending me

#monk gyatso #Katara #Aang #kataang #pro kataang #avatar the last airbender #atla #anti zutara #anti zutara shippers #anti zutara stans #anti zutara fandom

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prosciuttoon · 5 months

Text

Toshiro/Shuro is overhated

(mirror of my thread on twitter)

ever wanted to talk abt something so bad but u have so many thoughts so u cant even begin to organize a sentence. thats me abt shuro and its why i cant give my thoughts on him. i NEED to get this out of my system bc its takign up so much memory in my brain i need that space for thinking.

so i was really surprised to find so much hate for him even tho he seems pretty normal and rational out of the whole cast. ive deducted that its mostly abt his laios fight and that the ppl who hate him probably had bad experiences w social cues and relationships w neurotypicals bc of that. theres no way to avoid it bc its pretty much Right In Your Face that laios is ND. but thats not the only factor in why their relationship is rocky. its also the culture barrier. u have to understand toshiro was raised as JAPANESE NOBILITY ofc he would be a little conservative

also culture shock. idk if u know this but jp culture is very Mind Your Own Business like a lot of other asian cultures . ofc hes gonna be weirded out by a stranger invading his space. also his names not even Shuro. its just yt ppl not pronouncing his name right and settling for whats easiest.

img src: fan translation by savaralyn2 , i think its from the adventurers bible Complete Edition bc i dont remember it in the old one

ok you get the gist of the culture aspect of it. lets go into the ND/NT clash aspect of it. yes i understand its pretty hurtful to never be told when youre acting inappropriately. i am autistic too lmao. but you have to understand that shiro is one guy and he even does realize that repressing things is one of his fatal flaws. again. asian culture. non confrontational. that sorta thing. but these are genuine frustrations. if i were him id be annoyed too but id speak out about it. set boundaries. bc im blunt. shiros not. he was taught crazy strict manners (hierarchies, respect, politeness, etc).

his problem isnt ableism its a culmination of culture barriers, how he was raised to behave, and terrible lack of communication as thing caused by "all of the above" plus he just generally keeps to himself a lot which means repressing frustrations that will explode leading to a pathetic fistfight while hes starved, exhausted, and dehydrated. also. if he was ableist he would hate laios. he doesnt hate laios. at the end of the day, they are friends. NT and ND ppl can be friends u know. there will be rifts (like their fight) but you just have to communicate misunderstandings. theyre gonna be fine lol

anyways that was my whole spiel abt it. i think i got everything out that i wanted to? my head still feels a little full so i may add more later when i remember something

also i think its a little unfair to rule out the possibility of laios and him just being 2 very different kinds of ND bc its very common for misunderstandings to occur even then. EVERYONE IS DIFFERENT BUT WE NEED TO COMMUNICATE TO UNDERSTAND EACH OTHER! but for the sake of interpreting the Fight as a commentary on NT social rules and ND frustration, ill say toshiros NT. will we ever know? hes so far in the sidelines... youd really have to dig in the extra content to see the intricacies of his character.... please give him a chance

#dungeon meshi #delicious in dungeon #toshiro nakamoto #shuro dungeon meshi

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arvandus · 7 months

Text

Thinking about how adorably awkward Diavolo is, but also how sad he is too. This guy grew up super isolated with a father that neglected him, a “friend” that was obligated to play with him and cater to his every whim, and essentially raised by an ancient time demon that he “bullied” into serving him.

This poor guy has never ever had a single person be around him/with him by choice. Imagine what that does to him, to his self-esteem. The only one who has been with him by choice is Barbatos, but every now and then, Diavolo will doubt even that much, considering how he had “forced” him into serving him when he was younger (logically he knows Barbatos could have refused him; he was powerful enough to… but even then, the doubt lingers).

On top of that, he’s trying to join the three realms in a peaceful way, which I would guess not everyone in the Devildom is okay with.

Even when the angels fell, and Lucifer requested his help, Diavolo did it on the condition that Lucifer (and by proxy his brothers) serve him and the Devildom. Because even though they may have been somewhat friends (remember Diavolo planted an apple tree for Lucifer when he was still an angel), Diavolo had to act as a prince first, setting his own personal desires aside. His help would come at a price.

Everything he does is so motivated by this deep-rooted loneliness, forced by his position and power, and the choices he has to make because of it, keeping him isolated from others.

This persistent isolation and always being served by others has left a huge deficit in his people/relationship skills. The wild shit he says or does when interacting with those he cares about isn’t even intended to cross boundaries or rile them up half the time. He genuinely means it in the most innocent way. He hasn’t exactly learned what’s appropriate and what’s not appropriate (after all, the only friend he had was Mephisto, who worships the ground he walks on and never tells him no to anything). So he’s learning that now, albeit a bit late. He really just gets an idea that sounds nice in his head, inspired by his love and respect for that person, and says it out loud in an effort to deepen his relationship (ie, friendship) with them. And fortunately for him, Lucifer is able to be patient enough with him and maintain those boundaries as he figures out all of the nuances of socially and culturally acceptable communication and relationship building.

That’s not to say that there aren’t times where Diavolo doesn’t say or do things on purpose with the intent of giving others a hard time. He’ll definitely say things to get under Lucifer’s skin; he likes to fluster him, and for Diavolo, even bad attention is better than no attention. But I think there’s also another purpose to it, albeit subconsciously, in that it allows him to experience healthy boundaries which he never had when he was younger. Lucifer has no problem saying no to him, even at times when Barbatos doesn’t (Barbatos is strict, but he’ll also dote on Diavolo at times too, in a motherly way). It allows Diavolo to feel equal with Lucifer, more friends/comrades than ruler/oath-bound servant.

It’s also the same reason (partially) why he tries to escape his work half the time, or will come up with wild ideas that Barbatos has to say no to. He likes pushing (just a little) against the boundaries placed by others in order to meet that resistance. In a weird way it’s how he knows that they genuinely care about him rather than simply serve him out of obligation. They tell him no when he needs to hear it, but they’re also forgiving.

He’s always known he’s not perfect, yet he was treated like he was for so long. It created a dissonance between who he was told he was versus how he was experiencing himself. Now, he’s allowed to experience, understand, and accept his own imperfections through those closest to him and how they respond to him when they maintain their boundaries. It validates his own self perception of being imperfect while also allowing room for growth and understanding that the imperfections are acceptable/allowed to be there.

I think the last lingering doubt of others’ genuine love for him is the fact that they literally cannot leave him, at least not without consequences. Sure, they can disagree, even fight him. But in the end, he’s the prince, and they’re bound to him by duty and oaths. If they weren’t bound, would they still stay and continue to be there for him? Or are they merely tolerating him? It’s an insecurity that still plagues him.

Anyway… not sure where I was going with this. Brain is just stuck ruminating on it. He’s such an interesting character, I love him so much.

#arvandus rambles #obey me #obey me Nightbringer #Diavolo #obey me Diavolo #Diavolo obey me #om diavolo #diavolo om

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littlest-w01f · 13 days

Text

Cakes

Eris Vanserra x his (and Rhea's) daughter

For @erisweekofficial

Eris Week 2024 Masterlist

Day 2: Childhood/Legacy

Summary: Eris takes a step towards not being like his father while putting firm boundaries with his daughter.

Cw: Fluff, a lil angst

"Dalia Cersei Vanserra." Eris crossed his arms over his chest, watching his daughter sitting in the middle of the kitchen, chocolate cakes on the floor, his daughter's chubby cheeks and lips covered in the desert. "Why are you up at this hour?"

The little girl gasps and looks up at him, her violet eyes wide like a deer caught in headlights, "Da!" Dalia giggles, her small hands trying to wipe off some of the chocolate from her face but only smearing it further. "Da! Hi Da!" She says again, looking at her father with bright eyes full of excitement.

He chuckles softly, reaching down to scoop her up into his strong arms, feeling her tiny body squirming against him as he holds her close. "What are you doing awake, sweetheart? It's the middle of the night."

Her eyes light up even more at the sound of his voice, she starts babbling something about cakes and rolls and milk while pointing towards the open door leading out to the kitchen.

Dalia was always full of energy, especially when there was food involved, anything sweet had the girl on a roll. Dalia's tiny hands flew up to her mouth as she tried to stifle a giggle, her body shaking with suppressed laughter. The sight of her father's stern look, only made the situation more comical in her innocent mind. She couldn't help but let out a snort.

Eris raised an eyebrow, his expression unchanging despite the adorable scene before him. He held Dalia closer as he walked, his bare feet thudding against the tile floor. "Did you hear me, young lady?" he asked firmly, trying to maintain his authoritative tone amidst the chaos of his daughter's antics, refusing to smile and let her get away with being way past her sleep time and sending herself into a sugar rush.

He tried to recall what his mate had said, that if he wouldn't even try to discipline their daughter he might end up at the other extreme opposite to his father, he sighed softly, looking at the precious girl he had made with his lovely Rheana, the said girl was happily licking her fingers to clean the chocolate. He would explain to her how what she did was wrong, make sure she understood it, it should be easy enough, instead of whatever his father would've done, which was strike at him in different ways. Eris' eyes darkened at the thought of any harm like that coming to the precious bundle in his arms.

He felt the darkness shifting in the room, his love was watching, there for him if he needed help, but Eris refused to call upon her, determined to handle this situation himself. he set his girl down in her bed in her cosy room.

Eris sat down in front of Dalia, his large frame towering over her yet maintaining eye contact, ensuring he had her full attention. He took one of her small, sticky hands in his own, giving it a gentle squeeze. His voice softened, yet remained firm, "Little one, what you're doing is called sneaking out of your bed in the middle of the night, remember? We decided it wasn't a good thing, right?"

Dalia nodded, her eyes still wide but filled with curiosity rather than fear. She tilted her head slightly, her braided red hair swaying gently behind her. "But… I just wanted a treat, dada."

Eris smiled warmly at her honesty, then explained, "It's not about wanting a treat, sweetheart. It's about following rules. You see, your Mama and I work hard to keep you safe and healthy."

His words were calm, as he looked at her, he couldn't understand how his father had done what he did while looking into the eyes on his daughter, if he too had looked up this innocently at his father for answers and was met with torture instead, "And part of keeping you safe means making sure you're sleeping soundly in your bed."

He stroked her chocolate-covered hands. "This," he emphasized, pointing at the sweet desert remains, "Is delicious, yes? But we need to be careful when we eat things like these because they give us energy, and too much energy all at once could make our bodies sick."

As he spoke, he waved his hand, his magic cleaning his daughter fully. "So, while having a taste is okay sometimes, we shouldn’t fill ourselves up so late at night. That’s why bedtime snacks aren’t allowed, okay?"

Dalia's eyes squinted a little in confusion, "But you and Mama say I can get anything I want in life if I try hard enough... And I really wanted some chocolate cake."

Eris let out a hearty laugh at his daughter's innocent bewilderment, "Well, my love, you still have a sleep time, don't you? If you don't sleep at night, you will be tired in the morning and miss the sparrows." He then only noticed the door of her room, scorch marks on the handle, she had used her budding power to open the door to her room, like mother like daughter for sure.

Dalia gasped at the thought of missing her sparrows, setting herself back in bed and closing her eyes, mumbling something about the birdies. After a moment she opened a single eye to see Eris still standing there, then closed them again, pretending to be asleep.

His heart melted at the sight of his little girl faking sleep, another trick she'd learned from her mother. He gave her a tender kiss on the forehead, murmuring, "Goodnight, princess."

"I'm sorry, Da." Dalia called out as Eris stood at the door to her room, "I'll be good and rest... Can we play together in the morning with the sparrows?"

Eris turned around, a warm smile spreading across his face as he gazed lovingly at his daughter. "Of course we can, sweetheart. In fact, after breakfast, we'll go outside and build a special feeder just for those feathered friends of yours. But first, you must promise to stay in bed until the sun rises. No sneaking out for midnight treats, deal?"

Dalia's eyelids fluttered open, her violet eyes sparkling with excitement at the prospect of spending time with her father. "Deal, Da! I promise!"

With that, Eris quietly exited the room, leaving a contented and sleepy little girl to drift off into slumber, dreaming of sparrow-filled mornings ahead.

With one last lingering glance at his babe, he left the room quietly, shutting the door behind him with a soft click. As he walked back to his bedroom, he found his Rheana waiting for him. "Everything alright?" She asked, concern etched on her beautiful features.

He smiled reassuringly at his mate, pulling her close and planting a soft kiss on her forehead. "Everything's fine, my love. Our little troublemaker is fast asleep now, dreaming of birds and chocolate cake."

Rheana let out a soft sigh, her body relaxing against his touch. "I wasn't worried for a moment. You handled that beautifully."

Eris tensed slightly as he remembered his childhood, memories of his abusive upbringing threatening to resurface. However, he quickly pushed them aside, focusing instead on the warmth and comfort of his mate's embrace. "Yes, well… I refuse to repeat history. Our children will know nothing but love and understanding under our roof."

Eris snuggled into Rheana's arms, his head resting under her chin, arms wrapped around her muscular form, he couldn't help his memories as they threatened to drown him.

"Hey..." Rheana whispered softly, feeling his distress, "Would you like to talk about it?" She asked, wrapping her arms around him, knowing his needed to be held without even asking.

"No," He finally answered, "Let's leave it where it belongs, in the past. There's no point dwelling on the mistakes of our fathers."

But still, as he said, he couldn't help but think of his own childhood, how he enjoyed nature, the red falling leaves, jumping on them to see how hard they would crunch, but his father had not liked it, that he was having fun. The first time Beron had raised his hand on him, he had beaten him bloody for having fun with his brothers on the autumn leaves

Memories flooded Eris' mind, each one a painful reminder of the cruelty he endured growing up. He recalled the countless times his father's fists had connected with his skin, whips, knives, the blood dripping down his face, the searing pain that never seemed to subside. Even now, centuries later, the scars ran deep, both physical and emotional.

As he lay there, lost in the darkness of his past, Rheana's soothing presence brought him back to the present. Her gentle strokes along his back and the comforting weight of her body against his own served as a balm to his troubled soul.

"I remember when you first told me about your childhood," Rheana murmured, her breath warm against his ear. "It broke my heart to know you suffered through such torment. But you're strong, Eris."

"You're worth so much, my love." Rheana kissed his cheek and neck, "My precious fire. Beron is dead. Our children have an advantage of never knowing him. Yes, we'll make mistakes, it's inevitable to, but what's most important is for her to have her safe place with us, the rest we'll figure out as we go."

Her words, laced with love and affection, worked their magic, slowly drawing him out of the depths of despair. The sensation of her lips against his skin sent a tingling sensation coursing through his veins, reminding him of the warmth and safety he found in her arms. "I love you, Rhea."

Slowly, the shadows of his past receded, replaced by the bright glow of his future with Rheana. He knew he could overcome any hardship as long as he had her by his side.

"I love you too," Rheana smiled softly, cupping his cheeks, planting kisses all over his face, "For anything you might need from me. Forever."

{General Taglist - @nox-ceur @lilah-asteria @paleidiot @dee-writes-smut @adalia-jaycee @anarchiii @alwayshave-faith @velarisnightsky444 @minnieoo}

{Eris Taglist- @fxckmiup @slut4acotar @secret-third-thing @shadowsingers-mate @fieldofdaisiies @st4r-girl-official}

{Flames and Darkness Taglist - @anuttellaa @tuggboatfishin @inloveallthetime}

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archangeldyke-all · 7 months

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Weird AU idea I had randomly:

What if reader and Sevika were like..co-stars on an adult romcom or romantic drama as the two leads? They spend a lot of time together on set and some of their scenes get a little heated (they ofc have a dedicated intimacy coordinator to help). And things just...lead to another off set.

What if Reader is the intimacy coordinator responsible for helping Sevika and her co-stars feel comfortable and they just....hit it off, off-set or after shooting ends. Everyone ofc remains professional on the job, but ya know...not unheard of for folks to start dating after working together 😏

LOVEEE

men and minors dni

seeing people in various states of nakedness is literally your job.

it's vital that you remain professional and responsible while you're working-- both on and off set. you need to be an advocate for healthy boundaries and responsible film-making, there's no space for you to be flustered or uncomfortable or god forbid, turned on.

and usually you're incredibly good at it.

whether it's men or women, whether you find them attractive or not-- you keep your cool and keep it responsible no matter what.

but this is sevika.

sevika, whose interviews you watch before bed-- just to hear the lovely timbre of her voice.

sevika, who has been your celebrity crush for years.

sevika, who's filming her first ever intimate scene, and has no idea how it works.

you find out who you're going to be working with a week before, and you spend the entire week in denial, confident that if you ignore it, you won't freak out about it.

but then you meet her.

she's even more attractive in real life, sleepy from the early morning call-time, hair a little messy and eyes a little droopy, make up free and cuddled up in a white robe. it's like seeing an angel.

the second you introduce yourself to her, closing the door to her trailer behind her, sevika drops her white robe and puts her hands on her hips. when you turn back around, you get an eyeful of a completely naked, completely unbothered sevika. you nearly pass out.

"uh." you say eloquently. sevika blinks at you.

"you're the intimacy coordinator right?" she asks. you gulp, ripping your eyes away from her body to stare at the ceiling.

"y-yes. you don't have to... i mean, you can put your robe back on." you say. "it's just-- we're just talking today." you choke out.

sevika snorts, laughing at herself as she pulls her robe back on. you try to catch your breath as she casually pulls the belt tight and flops onto the couch behind her.

so, it's a rocky start.

and no, you don't jerk off to the image of a naked sevika that's been burned into your frontal lobe when you get home.

that would be completely unprofessional.

(okay, yes you do. three times.)

sevika's charming and funny and down to earth in a way a lot of the celebrities you work with never are. she's got the prettiest smile you've ever seen, and she asks you about your life and listens to your answers, and your crush only gets worse and worse as the days tick by.

you and sevika spend several lunches going over her own personal boundaries.

she's filming a scene with a man, which makes her cringe and stick her tongue out as she says it. (you have to keep yourself from squealing at the confirmation of her very publicly debated lesbianism.) she's not totally uncomfortable with it-- it's her job-- but she 'would like to keep it pg-13' where she can.

she's comfortable with nudity-- she obviously knows how good she looks-- but you explain to her that in scenes beyond the full frontal, she'll be wearing some coverings just to keep everyone comfortable.

she's fascinated by your job, constantly lobbing you with questions.

'what other movies have you worked on?'

'do pornos have intimacy coordinators?'

and then, inevitably, 'who's the hottest celebrity you've ever seen naked?'

this makes you choke on your spit. sevika raises an eyebrow at you as you hack up a lung, and when you finally catch your breath she grins. "me?" she guesses. you just huff and flip her off.

it's amazing watching her act-- she's insanely talented. she's funny too, just naturally, off the top of her head, always spitting out improvised lines that make you and the entire crew laugh. she's also a huge fucking flirt.

she's respectful of all the boundaries you outlined for her on set. always covered unless she's filming, talking frequently with her co-star about the script, triple checking before they film that they both agree with the direction they're taking their sex scenes. but that doesn't stop her from trying to get a rise out of you.

she claims she has no idea how to work the nipple pasties-- insists you do it for her. you've done it for plenty of clients-- sometimes the adhesives or angles can be tricky-- but you know she's just doing it to get you to touch her tits. it's in the way she smirks each time she asks, the way her eyes sparkle as she watches you nervously, shakily press the tape to her flesh, trying to avoid touching her skin at all costs.

she's insisted on taking all her lunches with you once she finds out that you tend to eat alone in your car. she'll tag along with you in the passenger side of your car, teasing you and fiddling with your radio and ducking in her seat when you pass by herds of paparazzi, as you drive the two of you to taco bell. she always pays-- 'i'm the superstar, you're driving a camry-- no offense.'

and she's always touching you.

never inappropriately, never without your permission-- but she's always got her hands on you in some way.

playing with a strand of your hair as you check in with her between takes. wrapping an arm around your shoulders when the two of you walk to your car. fiddling with your fingers in the back of a bus as the two of you and a few crew members ride to a local bar for drinks. each time, you stutter and stumble over your words, biting your cheek and awkwardly avoiding her eyes as she grins at you. she knows what she's doing. she loves it.

you assume you're just a pillow fluffer of sorts for her. just someone for her to flirt with between scenes-- a place for her to put all the residual emotions that filming a rom-com requires. it's happened before-- occasionally clients will need a bit of intimacy outside of the shoot to keep their romantic mood going all day-- and you're happy to receive a few flirty compliments and lingering glances in order to keep your clients happy.

when filming wraps, you assume that you'll never see sevika again.

you say goodbye to her with a hug in her trailer, wishing her luck in her career and hoping that maybe you'll have the pleasure to work with her again in the future. when you pull away, sevika's looking at you with a furrow in her brow.

"what?" you ask.

sevika bites her lip, and for the first time since you've met, she looks... shy.

"nevermind. 's stupid." she says.

you scoff. "sevika, i custom dye thongs to match various skin tones for a living-- i'm used to stupid." you say. she huffs.

"do you... i mean-- how familiar are you with the dating policies on set?"

"uh... not super? i can put you in contact with debbie from HR if you--"

"no nevermind. it's dumb."

you laugh. "having a crush on someone isn't dumb. you should go for it! filming's wrapped, so i doubt there's any hoops you'd need to jump through."

sevika bites her cheek. "i don't know if she'd be into me." she whispers, still not looking at you. you bark a laugh, and sevika's eyes dart up to look at you.

"don't be ridiculous." you say. "you're a fucking a-list actress, i know you know how hot you are, she'd be a fucking idiot not to be!"

"but it's... it's kinda been her job for the past few months to flirt with me."

"what?" you ask.

sevika's co-star is a man-- and he should be the only person flirting with sevika on set.

"i dunno. she's gotta touch me and talk to me and make me comfortable all day-- i don't know if she'd be doing that if it wasn't her job."

"sevika, who's been touching you? nobody's supposed to touch you." you say, anger bubbling up in your stomach.

it's your job to protect her from this happening, and you're starting to panic as you think about all the ways you might've failed her.

sevika huffs a laugh, and you blink at her. "it's not funny, sev, it's serious-- your boundaries--"

"it's you." she says. you blink. "i... it's okay if you... i mean it's basically your job to, like, take care of me, so it's cool if you don't--"

"me?!" you ask, cutting her off. sevika shrugs. "a-are you fucking with me?" you ask. sevika blinks.

"no?" she guesses.

"so this isn't some kind of prank ran put you up to because i told them you've been my celebrity crush since your first movie?" you ask. sevika's worried expression melts, a smug, self-satisfied smile taking its place.

"no." she says again. you sigh.

"o-oh." you say.

"so..." sevika starts. "i know you're all about boundaries and consent and stuff-- do i have to ask before i kiss you or...?" she trails off. you giggle, a little giddy as the reality of the situation sinks in.

"yeah. you have to wear that thong and the pasties to bed with me too." you tease. sevika laughs.

"damn, that's horrible. i'm not gonna be able to do any of the things i wanted to--"

you cut her off with a kiss.

taglist!

@fyeahnix @sapphicsgirl @half-of-a-gay @ellabslut @thesevi0lentdelights @sexysapphicshopowner @shimtarofstupidity @love-sugarr @chuucanchuucan @222danielaa @badbye666 @femme-historian @lia-winther @gr0ssz0mbi3 @ellsss @sevikaspillowprincess @leomatsuzaki @emiliabby

#sevika #sevika imagine #sevika arcane #sevika x reader #sevika x you #soft sevika

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i4bellingham · 2 years

Note

hi! if you are taking requests:

could i ask for an angst of jude and the reader getting into a fight which results in the reader leaving the house? but jude gets worried about them?

thank you!!!

i also love your fics so much

I LOVE YOU, I’M SORRY : jude bellingham x reader

cw: cussing, misunderstandings, jude being an asshole in the first half but don’t worry because he redeems himself :P

i need to recover from my writer's block some more, i am not a fan of how this piece turned out 😭

You're not sure if Jude fully understands your argument, or if he does, there is a possibility that he deems it unnecessary to recognize the weight of your worries because he just do not give a single fuck about it.

Instead of trying to see from where you're coming from, he does the opposite and tries to divert the entire conversation happening in a different direction. Point-blank counters, shifting blames and the refusal to look into the bigger picture of what's happening around him becomes his defense mechanism.

Worst of it all? This has been going on for two weeks now, and he's never once acknowledged your worries let alone ease them down. And quite frankly, you're just tired of it all.

You love Jude, that's an irrefutable fact but just because you love him doesn't mean you'll continue staying with him unless something changes. Especially how he treats your current concern in the relationship.

“You’re being ridiculous. She’s part of the team, she treats everybody like that.” Here goes his usual counter attack, rapidly shrugging off your uneasiness just as fast as you've voiced them out.

An exasperated sigh leaves your lips, you know this conversation with him will end in the same way it had just like yesterday; unresolved and thrown out of the window.

“‘She treats everybody like that’? So she goes to wipe every player’s sweat off their bodies too Jude? Is that it?” You sarcastically ask. “Funny how I’ve never seen her do it once or did she do it in time when she knew I’d arrive?”

Jude looks like he's trying to hold himself from screaming at you to understand his point; a pointless argument one both of you can't win unfortunately, as he too grits his teeth and the inevitable shutting of the television off is drawn as he stands up from the couch.

“I’m done here. I don’t want to talk about this anymore.” He says before making his way towards the stairs.

“You never want to talk about anything if it comes to her. I don’t know why but you're awfully protective of her Jude.” Your own words bring a sting to your chest. You know you're just pushing him to his limit at this point but recalling all those times since last week that he's evaded any talk about her or your worries that she's crossing a professional line with him, you yourself is barely hanging on a thread from snapping.

Jude stops and whips his entire body to face you. There is a tight frown on his face, brows pulling in a scrunch before a scoff leaves him. He walks back on the first level of the stairs, crossed arms and frowning face.

“Are ya hearin’ yourself right now?” He incredulously asks you. “You’re soundin’ ridiculous with thisㅡ this accusations that you have-”

You stand up from sitting on the couch. “They’re not accusations Jude. Merely something that I noticed since you've refused to talk to her about setting boundaries especially in a professional setting like that.”

“It’s weird to talk about it with her considerin’ she’s not doing anything wrong-”

“Oh so invading my boyfriend’s personal space, being a complete bitch when I’m there and being awfully comfortable with touching you is not wrong!?” You cut him off, the rise and fall of your chest apparent as you spoke from your voice raising. “I’m not even asking you for something big Jude, all I want is for you to settle a boundary with her because as your girlfriend I feel disrespected by her and her actionsㅡ and you're not making me feel any better by taking her fucking side every time we talk. I’m so tired of having this conversation all the time just for my worries to remain unresolved, I’m just so fucking tired of you Jude...”

Swiping off your phone and car keys from the table, you left a stunned Jude at the bottom of the stairs as you drove off and away from your so called home. If he can't get a grip and start acting like how a boyfriend should, then you don't have anything to stay for in this relationship. Not even the love he proclaims he have for you.

ㅡ

You don’t know how long you've been sitting here. With your phone completely shut off and the silence inside the car being your only company, there was nothing else for you to do but wallow in self-pity and self-hatred.

You don't understand why it was so difficult for Jude to have the talk that you've asked him for since last week. Why he was so bothered by the idea of setting a professional boundary with one of the team’s new athletic trainers was beyond you.

He had always hit you with the same lines that she wasn't doing anything wrong, that she's part of the team and that it was awkward to have that kind of talk with her yada yada. Honest to God if you didn't have this much trust on Jude, you're near to thinking and convincing yourself that he's probably cheating, and that thought alone makes you wanna hurl the content of your stomach from tonight's dinner.

You've had countless of talks about him and setting boundaries, you've had multiple fights because of her but never once were your worries ever acknowledged by your own boyfriend. And it pains you more than anything to go through such a situation where you feel like your feelings are being invalidated in the relationship that you try so hard to understand and have patience for.

It wasn't a huge request. You didn't ask him to move the moon for you, fix the climate change or explore the entire ocean floor but to merely establish a limit and an extent to where she can act out in her comfort. But unfortunately things just doesn't work in the way you wanted them too so now you're here, sat inside your car with the heater blasting on in the outskirts of the city alone.

And you stay there for a few more hours just until the sliver of sun peek through in between the mountain ranges. You think you may have dozed off in your seat at some point during the entire night you were there but you don't dwell on the thought for too long, not when you have to drive all the way back in the city to face another dreaded day with the possibility of yet another fight happening.

You purse your lips, recalling the last time that either you or Jude went home and there was no worries for things like this. It seems almost so long ago when the both of you were reveling in each other's presence, finding comfort in one another as you do the most mundane task in existence.

It just feels so nostalgic, almost like you have completely lost whatever comfort you found in your relationship once when it's being challenged right now by factors that shouldn't even be treated as a major threat to your relationship right now. Only if Jude knows how to listen and acknowledge and you to be more patient and level-headed.

You stop by a local cafè where you and Jude used to stop by during the early mornings before, only halting the visits when he gifted you a coffeemaker for Christmas last year. You got yourself yours and Jude’s usual drinks before purchasing a few pastries and treats before you're driving back to your shared home.

You were in the process of locking your car door when the door to your house opened, and came rushing out was Jude still in his pajamas, phone in hand before he's wrapping you in his embrace.

“Where have you been? Do you know how worried I am? I’ve called your phone a million times and you weren't answering. I called your friends thinking you were there with them but they told me that you haven't gone by to visit for an entire week. I drove in the city looking for you for hours and I couldn't find youㅡ Do you know how worried sick I am? Where have you been the entire night Y/N?” He continues, reprimanding you as he guided you back inside the house with a grip over your shoulders. “Have you got your phone with you? You've got it with you haven't you? Why didn't you answer any of my calls-?”

“It was turned off the entire night Jude.”

Jude scoffs at your passive tone of voice, watching as you drop the bag of pastries over the kitchen counter along with his coffee before your walking up the stairs with an obvious sag on your shoulders.

“You could have called me and told me you were safe no? I was worried sick about you.” Jude follows you to your bedroom as you went inside the en suite bathroom to wash up. “Seriously Y/N you should've at least texted me.”

“Right. Apologies, won’t happen next time.” He hears you reply just before the door to the bathroom shut close.

Alone in your shared room, Jude becomes heavily aware of your nonchalance, the thick wall of ice separating you both. He noticed that you never once look him in the eye upon arriving home, opting to fix your gaze on the monochrome walls of the house than to look at his face entirely.

You never pushed him away from touching you, but by the slight adjustments you made while being in his hold, Jude knew he fucked up big time. He knew that he did even last night, the moment you told him that you were tired of him.

Jude isn't sure if you realized the words to leave your lips last night but nonetheless, Jude knows he deserves them. Heck he doesn't even deserve to be in the same house as you right now let alone be in the presence of your tempering patience especially with how badly he had acted for the last two weeks.

He doesn't know where you get the patience for him from but he knows he needs to change and make some adjustments. In order to keep you from walking away from his life, Jude knows he needs to change some things in himself in order to not make the same mistakes again. God knows what will happen to him if he loses you, he doesn't even want to know.

Jude waits patiently as you wash up, picking up some undergarments from your wardrobe before lining it over the bed with one of his oversized jumpers and shorts. He sits by the bed, resting his back against the wooden headboard as he waits for you to finish, fiddling with his phone as he sends a last text to someone before chucking the device on the pillows.

You leave the bathroom with a steamy smoke from your shower, pausing on the doorway to stare at the clothes all laid out for you on the bed and the (most likely) perpetrator of it who sat awkwardly on your side of the bed, mouth slightly open as he softly snored with his arms crossed over his chest.

You took the clothes he prepped for you, turning to change in the bathroom before throwing away your dirtied clothes in the hamper.

You give one last glance at Jude before gently closing the bedroom door behind you as you walk downstairs and into the kitchen. You'd rather be here just in case Jude wakes up on the bed, it would be awkward and a little difficult for you to be in the same room as him right now with no clarity or any sort of proper conversation happening in between the two of you.

You’re not by any means raising your pride up in the ceiling but you certainly are a bit hesitant at the thought of letting Jude talk to you just easy as that after the way he treated you. You'll talk to him yes but he'll have to earn the rights again after being a complete ass for more than two days.

Fetching your pastries and the remaining of your drink, you began munching on your food as you scrolled through your phone. You know you should be taking some rest and sleeping after an entire night out but you couldn't bring yourself to sleep. You think it's not exactly the time for you to sleep when you have your head filled with a magnitude of thoughts about where you'll be picking up your relationship with Jude. You yourself know you'll get zero to none wink of sleep even if you lay down on the soft cushioned couch you have in your living room, you know even that won't suffice and you normally are able to sleep there after a few minutes of laying down. That alone says something.

Speaking of Jude, your boyfriend walks down the stairs with a small frown on his face. He silently takes the stool next to you, letting you have some peace and silent that lasted shortly after you've gotten it.

“Y/N... Love, can we talk?”

You continue scrolling through your phone, not once passing him a glance.

“Oh? I thought you don’t want to talk? You told me that just last night if I recall correctly-”

“I’m sorry, I didn't mean it.”

“Didn’t you?” You scoff.

Jude heaves a deep breath in, trying to calm his nerves from the nonchalance and passiveness that's coming from you. “Can we talk? Please?”

You didn't respond. Not immediately, at least.

You let him sit there beside you with nothing but the sounds coming from your phone serve as the only source of noise from your sudden silence. You let the silence drag on until Jude himself couldn't take it anymore.

“Okay... you don't have to say anything but please listen to me okay?” Still no response. Jude sighs yet again before bracing himself for his explanation. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry that I acted like a complete arse to you and disregarded your worries in our relationship. As your boyfriend I shouldn't have done what I did, I should've been better. I should've listened to you and done exactly what you asked of me because I don’t want you to worry about anything in this relationship. And I failed to do that. I’ve been a shitty boyfriend to you and you don't deserve that. You don't deserve to be treated in the way that I treated you and I know I can't take back what fuck-ups I did but all I can do now is to make up for it. If you can give me another chance to be a better boyfriend to you, I’ll be better. I will try to be better, for you.”

Jude takes one of your hand, noticing you staring blankly at the screen of your phone and fingers paused midway from scrolling through another tiktok.

“I’m so sorry love, I promise to better. Please forgive me...”

You close your phone off, gaze landing on the apologetic gaze Jude had as he held your hand against his cheek.

“I’m not entirely forgiving you. You hurt me too much-”

“I know love I know, and I'll take what you can give me... If I have to work for your forgiveness I will.”

You slowly nod your head with a soft exhale, watching how Jude’s lips pull up into a smile as he thanks you underneath his breath for countless of times.

Jude takes his phone from his pockets before he slides the device to you, and in the screen is a conversation he's had with the girl whom you're not really fond of. He’s just basically asked her to fuck off of text from the chain of messages she's sent him, and by his rather rude way of wording in his texts which you were about to point out, Jude chimes in.

“I’m planning on talking to her during training too.” He tells you sheepishly as you scroll through the one-sided conversation of his messages with her. “And I want you to be there... as much of an arse move that is, I want you to witness the conversation with her.”

“Jude I just want you to set boundaries with her-”

“And I will.” Jude interrupts you. “I will love, but I just don't want you to overthink things so I want you to be there when I do. This is just one step of me asking for your forgiveness. I still have a long way to go and I’m gonna do them in my own pace to not mess things up but I will work on them, and I will show you that forgiving me won’t be for nothing.”

You wrap both your arms around his neck, burying your face on the crook of his neck as Jude pulls you close to him.

“I’m so sorry again love, for everything.”

“You’re not entirely forgiven but at least you're a step in being forgiven.”

Jude chuckles against your hair, planting a kiss on your temple.

“I know... I know, just wanted you to know how sorry I am. I love you, and I’m really sorry.”

#not proofread #☆ i4bellingham writes.#☆ jude bellingham #jude bellingham x reader #jude bellingham x you #jude bellingham imagines #jude bellingham fanfiction #jude bellingham x fem!reader #jude bellingham #☆ i4bellingham asks.

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denim-devil · 1 year

Text

Doggy Style | Douche!Steve Harrington x friend!M!Reader

💌 - After a squabble with his best friend and GF, Nancy Wheeler, the fresh cuts and gashes he became equipped with pushes him to break the boundaries between you and his internalised anger…

Warnings - Mentions of Violence, Angry!Steve, Rough!Steve, Friends to lovers??, NSFW, PIA, Spit as lube, Bareback, Doggy Style, Mean!Steve, Mentions of slurs, Lowkey pwithoutp

The punch was what started your upcoming doom, yet the slap from Nancy is what pushed Steve over the edge.

The squabble happened quickly, almost like a blur, blending in with the immediate backhand she delivered to his bruising cheek. You stood in place, stuck on the spot as if you were trapped within a glass box sinking into the depths of the sea, eyebrows raising at the situation at hand.

It wasn’t a shock, he had it coming, it was as if you noticed just how provocative he could be, bending his cold demeanour and impulsive personality into one, like an old piece of gum sticking to the bottom of a shoe.

You watch as Nancy scurries away, it was clear she was upset, knowing the group that currently rained the halls of Hawkins High as royalties of a long line of bullies had clearly changed the towns mind as a whole of her sweetness and the cliche teachers pet act she put on for performance.

The word “whore” was painted in a deep crimson red across the abandoned cinema which faced the busy highway had began to ruin her reputation, no reaction from Steve had led her away with tears rolling uncontrollably down her porcelain cheeks.

As much as you wanted to run after her, comfort her and tell her everything would work out after a couple of weeks, you couldn’t, the gravitational pull Steve had on you kept you on the same spot, watching the backs of Tommy and Carol walking away, giggling to one another, it was definitely Steve’s time to be kicked from his throne that he had owned since recess.

There he stood, small cuts littering his pale skin, one atop of his lip leading up just underneath his perfectly shaped nose an another which faded into the brunette of his right eyebrow.

Anger was written across the features of his bruised face, his head turning ninety degrees, slow and unsure wether or not to face you, uncertain on how you’d react to the dark glare he shot your way, like a maniac with a glock, prepared to use his poisonous tongue if you uttered a single word.

“What?”

He spat with vulgarity, his tone deep, full of gloom and crassness as if you were the cause of his downfall, his crash and burn like an unfortunate plain crash which he so happened to board.

You shook with anxiety, to nervous to even begin to speak never mind back chatting the current king of Hawkins High. The alley was silent, Steve stood with both arms hanging by his sides in defeat, his eyes still locked onto you like a sniper with it’s target.

You so happened to be in his view, the red dot pointed at the centre of your clammy forehead. It was inevitable, after the previous interactions between his so called friends and girlfriend, the anger he shone so brightly with like sunrise had wrapped around you like a thick blanket, creeping up and around your neck, almost suffocating.

“Steve-“

“Save it…”

He remarked quickly back with lack of refinement, intentionally setting it straight, letting you in on his current feelings which to felt heavy and uncomfortable, you were scared to say the least, just what did Harrington have in mind for you.

His patience weight thin with you and it was showing a little to clearly, his hands balling into fists, knuckles turning a shade of pale white, nails digging into the skin of his palms, he wasn’t going to do anything…was he?

“Why didn’t you have my back?”

His question stilled in the air like a muggy late night of july, rocking you to the core, unraveling each part of your mind and how you stuck in the same spot whilst Steve tried defending himself. No answer presented itself, only a shaken sigh rolling from the tip of your tongue.

He noticed how you had stepped back ever so slightly, your demeanour had changed, lacking confidence and stance which egged Steve on, pushing for the answer but also something that had lay dormant deep within him for weeks now, it slowly creeped it’s way from his chest downward.

“To much of a pussy to throw a punch? You seriously are pathetic aren’t you-“

Tears pricked the corners of the very eyes that still locked onto his dark hazels, watching as he marched towards you, closing in on you once you feel the cold brick of the alley’s wall against the small of your back.

He scoffed in your face, lips tugging up into a smug smirk as if achieved the very goal he was looking for, like a famous footballer making his debut on the field, finally having you backed into a corner with no escape.

You shivered, like a shadow he loomed over you, his presence almost as tall if not taller then himself, making the space between you both much smaller, pushing you further into the bricks that now warmed up to your sticky figure.

“Seriously? Not gonna bite back, your just making this easier for me”

You felt the flutter in the base of your chest bloom like a kaleidoscope of butterflies, heart beginning to race at the thought of Steve making a move along the lines of intimacy, it felt like a trick, dipping your hand into the mists of a candy bucket, searching for the obvious choice.

“Steve I don’t understand how I could’ve-“

Steve cut you off with another scoff, it was cocky and demeaning, throwing you off and turning the clogs in your head quicker as you tried to solve his made up solution for your absence.

“Don’t you think you should be paying me back for standing there like some freak?”

A single tear told it all to Steve, you were easy to wind up, to sensitive to even stand up for yourself. You caught onto what he had planned once he grew bored with dementing you, ushering out a breathed “fag” before rolling his tongue, his head dipping until his lips neared the shell of your ear.

“Even Nancy had the balls to do it, maybe you like this”

The tears grew heavy, washing away every piece of confidence Steve managed to break down, he resembled a wrecking ball, one swing and you could feel the crushing in every inch of your body.

“Please stop, I-“

Blubbering like a fish it what gave Steve the interest and intention of gripping onto your waist harshly, turning your body as your front faced the corroded gravelled pavement. Your back faced him which hid the travelling pink blush that ran from the base of your neck upward, towards your tear stained cheeks.

The silence grew thick, not as thick as the tension that stunk out the secluded alley way that began to get dingy from the lack of sun, secreting you both even more. The lack of comments but the scrambling of his hands unfastening the front of your denim jeans made you question what was in store.

“Didn’t take you up for being such a slut”

He spat with vengeance, pushing down the band of your jeans, white boxers following as they feel to pool around your ankles like a puddle, the cooling air hitting the damp skin of the two pert globes that had Steve almost salivating at the sight.

He took a second to himself, revelling in the sight of your new profound immaculacy, almost losing himself as he was daunted with the realisation of his actions, his motive still was unclear to you but you could only dream of what he had planned.

The stillness triggered a sharp huff from you until you heard the crumbling of stones underneath trainers notifying you of movement. A sharp smack rang throughout the desolate alley, his palm landing flat against the centre of your left cheek which forced your body forward into the brick, knocking the wind from your lungs.

The whine that followed suit attracted another smack, this time to the right, it stung like an angered wasp, a marking of fingers and a palm bloomed across the skin of your backside, growing into small bumps yet it wasn’t hard enough to break skin, it was hard enough to force your back to arch, presenting yourself perfectly for him.

A low “fuck” grumbles from his chest, forcing it’s way into the air and through the small holes of your ears. His motive began to grow clearer once another smack atop of the markings forced a yelp from you, eventually breaking the skin, a small welt appearing, filling with crimson blood.

“Please stop, can’t handle it-“

You quipped back between short breaths, it wasn’t the truth, you wanted, no, you needed more. Your cock jumped as the thought of Steve using you for his pleasure, more so then the previous anxiousness that prepared you for his current onslaught.

“You can, you will- having way to much for this to end, come on, you can handle more right?”

A mopy, struggled “yes sir” rumbled from the depths of your slowly dipping chest, earning yet another smack, it was softer, as if he was testing the waters, hearing the quiet whispery moan you released on impact, his smirk grew smaller, his mouth growing slack as he began to show interest, changing the dynamics swiftly.

“Say it again, louder”

Once more, a soft smack and rough squeeze to the back of your thigh automatically forced out a shy “yes sir” which gave Steve the answer had been searching for.

“Atleast your good for something, just a dumb little fag, all splayed out for my use, and my use only-“

Wiggling back only enticed him further, drawing him in like a hunter to it’s prey. That’s when it began, the obvious unzipping of trousers cut through the heavy lingering of sexual tension, the crumpling of boxers following suit an an eventual wet thud, the moist tip of his cock meeting the hairy skin of his abdomen.

Eyes travelled up the centre of your arched back, the view was something to fawn over, his cock aching with want as if it had a mind of it’s own, although this isn’t the first time Steve has thought about you inappropriately.

“Your loving this aren’t you?” He whispered gently yet sternly, copious amounts of pre dribbling from the tip of your cock, joining the dusty pile of rocks littering the hard ground beneath you. He took note, keen on the idea of touching you.

But he held back, instead he brought himself back, taking a few awkward steps, his trousers restricting his foot work as he waddled closer until the heavy weight of his dick rested on top of your ass.

You nod in return, both quick and suggestive. It felt like an eternity before Steve began to massage the spongy wet tip against the puckered skin of your entrance, swiping each bead of pre back and forth, up and down.

wiggling once more against him grants the a boost of confidence, rebuilding what Steve diminished back up, pushing back against him, relieving the ache running from base to tip.

“Fuck- you want it don’t you? Needy little fag”

His tongue was sharp, cut you deep in ways that had you clutching onto the wall, hands flattening against the coolness as you spread wider, giving him the chance to prod the tip against your quivering hole.

He slapped his cock twice against, the lewd wetness ringing out into the quiet nights air, he dipped every so slightly before pushing in to your surprise, the burn from just his thick tip entering you leaving you no choice but to get it over with, stilling once you relax, giving him the power and control to push past the resistance the ring of muscle once held strongly, now weak against the raw intrusion.

The bones of your knees grew weak, legs wobbling, trying the very best to hold yourself up, ears catching onto the dirty words Steve spat as he sank in slowly, each inch adding fuel the burn which grew like a brewing fire, rapidly.

A hand brushes past his v-line. You push back in his abdomen wanting the tingling pain to stop, it resembled pins and needles digging into your skin, jabbing at the warm velvety walls of your insides.

His own hands managed to restrict your movement, caging both hands together behind your back leaving you with a sense of vulnerability, now growing stronger by the second.

“Gonna take it fully okay, no pulling out or pushing me out, gonna take me fully, fuck-“

Words were no forte, especially when his cock took control not only over your mind but the sentences you tried to string together, eyes now languidly rolled back into your head as he lay still, fully sheathed inside of you completely, the set of heavy and full balls he adorned now rested against the cleft which separated each cheek.

“Didn’t think you’d actually listen, got me balls deep inside this little ass of yours”

He huffs once pulling back, watching each inch slip from your hole, the tip now present against your clutch. He toyed with his cock, giving each cheek a slap before sinking back in with ease.

A few raspy “fucks” slip from his open mouth once he sets the thrilling pace, each plap and thrust of his hips railing through the empty alleyway, sounding out into the quiet streets.

Steve had no remorse behind his movements, his wants clear with predatory intentions and his instincts pushing you further into the coldness of the brick-layered side wall, increasing the arch of your back into a slanted curve.

His access was much easier, his pace increased, ravenous and body shaking which had your limp cock weeping and leaking. He took pleasure in watching you crumble beneath him, taking all of his length each time.

“Fuck- already so close, so much better then Nancy shit-“

Each prod of his spongy, angered tip against the small bundle of nerves tucked deeply inside had you seeing stars and the once clear vision you were acquainted with now fuzzy and distorted as you accepted the fate you were sealed with.

“Steve- please I can’t take anymore”

You choked out a sob once the coil snapped, each glob and shot of thick clear liquid splattered against the wall, dribbling onto the gravel below. Steve could feel it, how you fluttered harshly against his achy, twitching cock.

“So good for me shit- knew you’d take it for me”

He mumbled low and thickly into the shell of your ear, his hands now holding you still as he hammered against your red-raw backside. He was chasing the glory and bliss he so craved.

Now flaccid, you felt every jump from the way his cock crammed itself fully inside and up against the spot that had you fumbling for forgiveness, it was to much yet not enough.

“So tight- gonna make me cum, need it-“

He wasn’t far behind, stilling behind you as he fell limp against your damp back, his cock jumping as each rope painted your insides, his groans almost animalistic like a dog in heat, pushing what he had to offer deep into your freshly filled gut.

“Fuck yeah-“

It all made sense, the closeness, the douche like persona that riddled his body which protected his feelings and thoughts, the way his hand’s softened on your hips, how he kept himself flat against you, how the wet trail of kisses from the dip of your back to your neck marked the very moment he allowed himself to be truthful.

This wasn’t about revenge, this was about claiming something that so happened to be his, that happened to fall in line.

“You tell anybody about this…you won’t make it to next summer”

The threat lingered like an unwanted piece of meatloaf, stale and fragile, he felt like the fork that pierced the thick lump, essentially playing with his food, still keeping it on his plate.

He pulled back slowly, his cock now soft slipping from you with a wet pop, the load he planted so deeply dribbled out downwards, leaking onto the back of your abuses thighs.

“I-I promise”

You mumble back quickly, no second thought behind it. Steve wouldn’t do that, deep down you both knew he was to scared to become what he truly desired, yet he still clinged to the title he had been given, his popularity and his harshness. Although, the title has friends had clearly changed.

“That’s good- get dressed okay, don’t want people to see what I did to you”

Secretly, Steve wanted to boast, wanted the whole world to know, wanted to see you every sunday night just to fuck you over and over…was he committed to the thoughts that ran through him like a bullet train…?

#male reader #x male reader #steve harrington #stranger things #steve harrington x male reader #smut #douche!steve #idk what this is #enjoy <3

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dmercer91 · 1 year

Text

breaking the cycle, nh13

in which your inner child never truly healed.

me 🤝 finishing sad pieces with incredibly unserious dialogue (2.5k)

silence was unbearably loud in your car, your son sat next to you with a ball of kleenex shoved up each nostril, both red with blood.

you understood that he probably didn’t want to talk about whatever could have possibly given him the bright idea to start a fight with one of the most infamous assholes he went to school with, but it needed to happen

“felix..” his eyes moved over to you, your own focused on the road ahead of you, but they moved back out the passenger seat window in an instant.

“no,” you rolled your eyes, the definitive tone in felix’s voice giving you all the more reason to get the true story out of him

“you punched a boy in the face, felix, you can’t say no to this!”

“dad does it all the time!”

you almost slammed on the breaks, exasperated

“when you’re making millions of dollars to sock people in the jaw, you can have at her. until then, d’you think you can refrain?” you hate to admit that you’d raised your voice with the question, quickly bringing it down and taking a deep breath

it was dead silence for the rest of the drive, your grip on the steering wheel tight and your son’s eyes trained solely out the window

as you pulled into your driveway, nico’s car already in it’s spot, you sighed again.

“fe,” he glared over at you, already having set his boundary and being angry with the fact that you were so keen on crossing it

you talked a lot with him about boundaries - how it was good for him to have them in place and it was good for him to defend them.

how even if he didn’t understand other’s boundaries, didn’t get the full story, wanted to keep prying, he needed to respect what others asked of him just as he expected them to do for him.

this was different, though, because about a million boundaries were crossed before he had even stepped foot in the car. before he had told you no

felix tried to unlock the car door and step out, but you locked it and gave him a look before he could succeed

“you can either go inside and have your dad lecture the ever loving shit out of you, fe, or you can just tell me what happened. i can give you a minute if you need,” he slouched back into the passenger seat, crossing his arms and sniffling to adjust the tissue in his nose

it was a few minutes of silence before he looked over at you, clenching his phone in his hand out of nerves

“i was just sick of everyone comparing me to dad,” he looked you up and down, gauging for a reaction that he didn’t really get, before looking back down at his lap

you thought about it for a minute, opening your mouth to speak but being cut off but a teary eyed felix, ready to further explain

“i don’t- i don’t wanna play hockey, anymore, mom. the guys on my team are mean and it’s like they see dad drop me off and they’re expecting nico junior to walk into the rink and crush it, but i’m not good cause i’m not happy”

he hiccuped, pushing down his sobs so he could keep talking

“i can’t be good at something i hate, even if my dad is in the nhl, even if i’ve been on skates since i was a baby… n’ i know i told you i wanted to go back when the sign ups came out, s’ cause i know he likes to skate with me, and he likes to ask how practice was, and it’s, like, the only thing we have in common and i don’t want to lose that, i can’t-”

and then he broke, sobs wracking his body as he smooshed his face into your shoulder from over the centre console, your hand instinctively running through his hair and cupping his head to comfort him,

your heart ached in your chest thinking of how long he’d been hiding how he felt.

you thought of him asking to talk to jack so he could try and get better, you thought of him wanting to watch devils practices, you thought of him asking for jerseys and pucks and a subscription to watch prospects at michigan

you thought of how he always said he wanted to go to michigan

you thought of his room, decked out in memorabilia from players he claimed to look up to and the picture of him as a little kid wearing a massive team switzerland jersey surrounded by his dads teammates from home

you thought of the fact that all day every day, he wanted to be with nico, he wanted to learn and bond about what you thought was their sport, not just nico’s

you thought of the huge bookshelf he told you would look good in the guest room, all of the the books along with it

you thought of the few months where all of your art supplies would go missing, and when he looked down and shook his head when you asked if he wanted you to get him his own

you thought of the beginning of the school year, when you had to sign off his class schedule and the elective he chose, which had gym and art scratched and rewritten over and over until the box was full and the counsellor had to write ‘gym’ with an arrow

you thought about when he came home with an arm full of drawings and claimed his friend had done it in class

you thought about how his equipment seemed like it was weighing him down more and more every time you saw him walk to put it in your trunk

you thought of how you should have noticed, but you didn’t.

“your dad is gonna want to spend time with you no matter what, fe. he’s gonna love you, n’ be proud of you, and he’s gonna support whatever you want to do, okay? and if you want, i can tell him for you.. explain, how you’ve been feeling,” you moved his head back, having him look up at you

he looked conflicted, like he wasn’t sure he wanted nico to know at all

“i’ll hardly see him,”

you shook your head, tears brimming your eyes “if you asked him to sit with you and look at a rock, felix, he’d do that,” you chuckled, wiping the tears from his cheeks and kissing his forehead

“he wants to spend time with you no matter what you’re doing, hm?” he hummed in silent agreement, leaning back onto your shoulder, this time facing the windshield.

“can you still tell him for me?” you ruffled his hair, strikingly similar to nico’s in the way it fell in front of his face

“yeah, of course.” you squeezed him into a hug and he smiled sadly.

“and hey, since you got yourself suspended, why don’t you come to work with me tomorrow n’ pick new colours for your room” he furrowed his eyebrows, pulling back to look at you

“i can redo my room?” you grinned, wiping your nose from the tears that had fallen under it.

“yeah, we’re gonna make it more you. plus, it’ll give me something to do while im on maternity leave” his eyes widened in shock, legs suddenly making their way over the centre console so he could hug you properly

even though he was older now, you loved hugs like this. he’d almost been taller than you, but it felt just like old times when he decided he was so happy he was just gonna koala cling to you and squeeze as tight as he could.

“does dad know?” you shook your head, earning an extra squeeze from your son

“now go inside, i’m gonna talk to him, okay?” felix nodded and slowly moved from your arms, going out the car door and sprinting to the house, presumably up to his room to brainstorm it’s new layout.

you gave yourself a minute before going inside and greeting a confused nico.

before he could question why his son, who had apparently punched someone, was smiling and excited, you hugged tight onto him and buried your face into his neck

instinctively, he forgot any questions he had about felix and squeezed you back, supporting the back of your head and worry taking over his face

his eyebrows went from quirked upward to furrowed downward and he knew then that whatever his son had done had good reason

you broke down in his arms, body shaking from sobs and cries muffled into his neck for the sake of felix, who you didn’t want hearing the affect his confession had on you

you had felt like you failed your son, like as a mother you should have paid better attention to what he was feeling

you felt like you had done something to make him feel like he couldn’t talk to you - something you vowed you wouldn’t repeat from your childhood when you decided to have kids with nico

“what’s wrong, sunneschii?” nico mumbled, almost feeling dumb with the question he’d asked you

what was wrong should’ve been that your child hurt someone, but deep down he knew that wasn’t it, that you honestly couldn’t be bothered by the suspension

“i’m a horrible mom, ni,” you croaked, gripping his shirt in your fists to ground yourself while he shook his head

“kids get into fights, love, that’s not on you. but felix, he’s excited, i don’t-“ he stopped himself there, reminding himself that felix’s giddy attitude and your sombre one were probably not a result of the fight

“he’s being picked on, at school. n’ at practice, too. he told- he told me..” you paused, trying to catch your breath and clear the tears from your sight and your throat

“he hates hockey, ni. n’ he’s been sticking it out so he would be able to spend time with you,” you looked up at your husband after the confession, face beet red and soaked in tears

“.. oh, that’s-“ you cut him off with a shake of your head

“why wouldn’t he tell me, nico? i thought i was doing everything right, he has privacy and room to grow and when he says he wants to figure it out on his own i let him and we talk about everything cause i thought he was comfortable coming to me. i want him to be comfortable coming to me n’ he’s not, i don’t know what i did wrong”

nicos stomach dropped, finally understanding why you’d been so upset

you explained to him at the beginning of your relationship you hadn’t wanted kids, that your grandmother treated your mother a certain way, and that she claimed to have broken the cycle when she hadn’t

you felt judged in everything you did, and it was like you could never make her happy. you felt like it was illegal for you to grow up

you never told your mother about anything because she always assumed the worst of you and the best of everyone else

she’d even made it a point to tell you she thought you were using nico for his salary

she always told you she had it worse as a kid, though. that her mother was judgemental and strict, and that she’d been proud of herself for being better than that

you didn’t want kids because you didn’t want to be blind like she was. you didn’t want to treat a child that had done nothing wrong like they were garbage while under the impression that you were an amazing mother

you had to break the cycle.

and then you and nico got serious, and you decided that you wanted a family with him, that you would see a therapist and try for a baby when you were ready

felix keeping something so big from you had made you feel like you hadn’t broken the cycle after all.

the worst part was that you were pregnant.

nico rubbed your back soothingly, peppering kisses onto the top of your head while he thought, finding the right words to say what he felt

“you are the best momma, y/n. fe would tell you that himself. we raised the kindest, sweetest kid i’ve ever met. he’s thirteen and he’s open with you about so many things, and that’s rare,

for this, though, i think he was trying to protect you. it’s not that he didn’t trust you, or that he thought you’d be mad, it’s that he wanted you to feel that you’d done him right, cause you have.

he wanted to protect me, too. cause for so long hockey’s been our thing and he didn’t want to disappoint me. didn’t want to lose our time together

that’s how i know we raised him good, cause he was being unselfish.”

you sniffled, shaking your head into nicos chest

“it shouldn’t be his responsibility to protect our feelings, ni” you explained, slightly more calm after nicos words

“i know. but everyone does it, sunneschii. for the people they love,” you smiled sadly, rocking back and forth with nico until you could breathe through your nose again

your fingers were combing along his stubble, his own tracing shapes on your back

he placed a long kiss on your temple before pulling away, looking down at you

“now, can i ask why he’s glowing like a kid in a candy shop an hour after getting suspended?” you giggled to his question, pressing a kiss to his lips

“i think he might wanna tell you” you grinned, nodding to the stairs and following him up to felix’s door, kept wide open as he typed away on his laptop

when he saw nico he gave a guilty smile, and moved over so nico could sit.

“no more hockey, hm?” he ruffled his sons hair, smiling fondly as felix blushed and nodded

“sor-“ nico shook his head, bringing fe to a halt

“don’t apologize, fe. never apologize for not wanting to do something for someone else” felix nodded and moved his laptop from his legs, cracking his knuckles awkwardly

“you’re mapping your room?” nico asked, tapping the screen where a blueprint of felix’s room was, a lot of the furniture moved, the bookshelf returning.

your son grinned slightly, realizing you were going to let him announce to nico the pregnancy

“mom’s helping me redo it, coming to work with her tomorrow” nicos eyebrow quirked, and he looked over you

“when’s she gonna have time for that?” he redirected his attention to felix, earning a big smile

“while she’s on maternity leave” you watched as nico buffered, eyes widening then blinking shut a few times

“while she’s on who?” you giggled and nico looked back over at you, springing up to bring you back into a tight hug and attacking you with quick, sweet kisses.

you cupped his face and gave him one last smile before making room for felix to get in between the two of you, the three of you in a tight hug for what felt like hours

once you pulled away, you wiped more tears from your face, these ones of joy, and ruffled the hair on both of their heads

“i love you, my boys... oh, and fe? you’re still grounded, by the way”

#e’s fics #nico hischier #nico hischier x reader #hockey imagine #nhl imagine #new jersey devils

571 notes · View notes

bloodyserratus · 11 months

Text

aural fixation

pairing: nanami x fem!reader word count: 11.5k synopsis: kento never knew that ino had a sister. and when he finally meets you, he can't help but feel like there's something so familiar about you... themes/warnings: SMUT! mdni. she/her pronouns, reader is a virtual sex worker (erotic audios, camming, etc.), dommy!nanami, subby/bratty!reader. lil bit of daddy kink, mentions of restraints, domesticity/apron kink? there's a lot of smut and plot. phonesex.

a/n: ...how did this get so LONG?!?!! 😵‍💫 i'm so happy it's out of my brain.

You tapped your chin as you scrolled through notifications. A handful of comments, two new subscribers, and two direct messages. The DMs were spam, so you went to check the results of your recent poll for top tier subscribers. It was time for your monthly, limited audience live stream and you had offered up a few dates and times. The results were quite split this time, which concerned you, but Friday at 7:30 pm had won by a few votes, so you went ahead and created an event.

A smile snuck onto your lips when you noticed that ken73 had voted for the chosen timeslot. It was probably just confirmation bias, but you felt like ken73 always voted when you put out polls. Part of this was likely because he was your longest time subscriber, so you were most familiar with his username. Reality or not, you were glad for the support. He had been a consistent lifeline when you’d first started this work out of necessity to support yourself and your younger brother, Takuma.

Takuma was older now, and though you didn’t exactly understand what his job was, it meant he could be self reliant. Similarly, you really didn’t need the income from virtual sex work anymore, but something about it kept you engaged. Whether it was sheer boredom or the freedom of being able to explore your sexuality on your terms, you’d stayed active enough to generate a decent little income stream while it still stayed fun.

‘see you next friday!~’ you captioned a photo of yourself.

In it you were wearing a new set of lingerie. In the grand scheme of things, it was relatively modest, but you hoped it served the purpose of piquing your subscribers’ interest.

…

Kento loosened his tie as he walked into his apartment. It had been a long day. Meetings with Principal Yaga and training with the students at Tokyo Jujutsu High. The training really wasn't nearly as challenging as dealing with Gojo, their teacher. As much as Kento cared for and trusted Gojo, he had never not found himself irked at the end of the day by his shenanigans.

He sighed as he scrolled through his notifications. He made quick work of it, marking items read and flagging things for follow up. His eyebrows raised when he saw the notification for your livestream. Friday at 7:30 pm. He quickly created an event on his calendar so as not to forget.

A soft smile settled on his lips as he examined the photo you’d posted with the announcement. He’d been subscribed to you for so long that the swells and curves of your shape were familiar like old friends and yet, like an old friend, it still brought him joy to see them. His eyes traced the lace lines of your lingerie, but ultimately he found himself fixated on the shape of your chin. For all of the suggestive and sexual ways in which he’d been able to consume you, he had never seen your face. He understood the safety boundaries that you had to maintain, but it didn’t mean he didn’t wonder.

Wonder whether your pleading and begging would be accompanied with round, doe eyes, like he imagined, or a shape more similar to a cat or fox. Wonder what color hair he might find himself with a handful of, in an alternate universe where he was lucky enough to enjoy you in the flesh. Wonder exactly which kinks were yours and which were just good customer service.

“Hmm,” Kento exhaled and stood to pour himself a drink. All this thinking had left him straining against the front of his briefs.

He set his glass tumbler down before undoing his belt buckle. The tendons in his fingers flexed deftly before it came undone with a quiet ‘shhhhhk’. He popped open the button at his waistband before sitting back down. Kento turned on the television in his living room and cast photos from his phone onto it. An album of his favorites was easily summoned at his fingertips and he palmed himself through his zipper as he flipped them.

“Shit,” he groaned, hips bucking slightly, as he arrived at one of his favorites.

It was actually a screenshot of one of his favorite streams. You’d just been in the middle of checking comments, so it wasn’t the most explicit image that he had of you, but something about the way your tits threatened spilled out of your bra as you’d used the mouse had entranced and haunted him until this day.

Kento took his glasses off and set them aside before he unzipped himself slowly. He felt the teeth of the zipper unlatch, delaying gratification slightly, before he pulled himself out. He was thick and heavy in his own palm and already shiny with precum. He spread the slick across his tip with the pad of his thumb and inhaled sharply at the sensation. He dragged his fingers up and down his hard shaft slowly, thinking of how soft your hands would be compared to his. His thighs tensed as his precum spread, making each pass silkier and smoother than the last.

After a few more thrusts up into his face, Kento needed more. He navigated to your audio scenarios and pulled up one of his favorites. ‘Don’t Be So Mean to Me…it Makes Me Really Wet’. Kento had to roll his eyes a little at the title, but it was one of his favorite flavors of you. Whiny, submissive, and playing right into some kinks that he was slightly in denial about having. He scrubbed through the intro…he’d heard it so many times that he could’ve recited it for you.

‘s-stop’ your recorded voice sounded in his apartment.

‘do you always have to tease me like that?’

“You like it,” Kento growled, fist tight around his cock at your airy moans.

‘you’re right, I do’ you giggled, ‘is that bad of me? you’re so mean to me and it just,’ your voice hitched here, ‘...it just makes me leak.’

Kento closed his eyes and shook his head.

‘no? you…you know it does?’ you asked, surprise clear in your voice. ‘do you…do you do it to me on purpose? i-’

He imagined your eyes flashing up at him, eyes wide and pupils wider as you squirmed below him.

‘why?’ you asked in a tiny voice.

“Because I need you to be soaked if you’re ever going to make this fit,” he jerked his cock forcefully.

‘oh! oh…i get to? get to have this?’ your voice was sultry now and the sound of rustling in the audio put him fully into your imagined context. ‘it’s so big, though…’

His brow furrowed as he slumped back into his chair further.

‘you’re going to make it fit?’ you purred excitedly, ‘show me’

Kento’s imagination ran wild. The way he would pick you up and toss you over his shoulder. Or bend you over the back of this armchair. Not in a rush, though, he would allow himself to enjoy the sight of your wet lips soaking through your panties between the plush landscape of your thighs. He might even allow himself to kiss up the backs of your legs from the pits of your knees to your slick inner thighs. You would wiggle impatiently, but his firm hand would keep you pinned over the back of the chair, toes barely able to brush the ground beneath you.

‘ohhhh, you’re one of those.’ you sighed as if frustrated, ‘can’t you be a little more…excited? that you get to have me this way? all puffy and swollen for you?’

He smirked. You were an impatient little thing, at times.

‘don’t you just want to sliiiiide that big cock into my little cunt? or…at least your fingers, right? it would be so easy with how wet you’ve got me’ you coaxed so sweetly.

Kento bit his lip, letting off with his hand for a moment. As a verified enthusiast, he could confirm that you did have the wettest little pussy that he’d ever laid eyes on. The way your lips split prettily around your fingers always made him think about how much deeper his could reach and stretch.

‘i thought so’ you giggled as you slid into yourself with a wet gush. ‘god your-, your fingers…they’re a lot bigger than mine,’ you sighed contentedly.

‘but i think you should really show me how much bigger that cock of yours is. if you think you can last, that is.’

Kento’s lip curled at your bratty teasing. He had no doubt that he could outlast a wanton little slut like yourself, but he so enjoyed the way that you egged him on.

‘i know…the sight of me creaming all over your cock…it’s enough to make anyone bust a nut. but that’s what i was hoping for anyways. as soon as i saw you, i thought, ‘hmm…he looks big and strong. i bet he would hold me down on his cock and breed me. breed my pussy. maybe that would finally satisfy me and make me less of a cockstarved little slut.’

“Doubtful,” he snickered, thrusting forcefully back up into his fist again. But he’d be happy to try. Fuck load after load of his cum into you. Listen to you moan and arch for him like a bitch in heat until each thrust did nothing but push his creamy ropes of cum back out, dripping down to your knees.

Kento’s balls tightened as he listened to you fuck yourself, your moans growing louder and less restrained. Little gasps and hiccups peppered your dirty words and he anticipated the moment that sent him over the edge each time without fail.

‘am…,’ you sniffled ‘am-, am,’ you struggled to speak between thrusts of your dildo. ‘am i being a good girl?’ you sounded so unsure of yourself and that flipped something deep inside of Kento’s brain.

“Fuckkkkkkkk,” Kento let out a deep, primal groan. “Yes,” he panted, about to burst. “Such a good girl. Such a good girl letting me fuck you like this,” he praised through gritted teeth before his cock jerked. Spurts of cum shot out onto his crumpled dress shirt and tie. His chest heaved with deep breaths and by the time his cock had deflated, he had also recovered.

A light flush covered the bridge of his nose as he peeled his shirt off and cleaned up. He was always a little embarrassed at the way he unraveled when listening to you. He considered himself to be an upstanding citizen, so how it was that you unlocked this crazed, unhinged version of himself, he still didn’t quite understand.

Checking the watch on his wrist, Kento sighed. Another day of sorcery work awaited him in the morning so it was time for him to go to bed.

…

Ino looked at Nanami Kento with admiration. They were on their way back from exorcizing a handful of Grade 2 curses. Ino had been able to handle them with minimal assistance from Nanami, which had his chest full of pride.

“Nanami-san, do you have any plans for the weekend?” Ino asked his mentor as they rode the subway.

“...no,” Nanami answered after some thought.

The most exciting thing he had planned for this weekend was your livestream on Friday, but he certainly wasn't about to share that with Ino.

“Do you?” he asked the younger man, a gentle look on his face.

“Not yet, but, oh!” Ino’s face lit up suddenly, “That reminds me, I need to call my sister back. She had asked about having a meal together this weekend.”

Nanami’s eyebrows raised. He wasn't aware that Ino had a sister.

“Do you mind if I do that now?” Ino asked when they got back to street level. “I'm worried I'll forget again.”

“Go ahead,” Nanami shrugged. They were just walking back to Jujutsu High.

“Hey sis! Yeah, yeah I know,” Ino grew sheepish as he spoke to his sister on the phone. “I’m sorry I forgot! But yes we should get dinner this weekend. How about Friday?”

Nanami smiled. Ino’s boyish nature showed through as he talked and something about it tugged at his heartstrings.

“Oh, you’re busy Friday? Hm, okay how about Saturday? Okay, Saturday then! Let me know where we should go. My treat!”

Nanami heard the voice on the phone protest at this, but Ino insisted.

“All set?” he smiled when the younger man slipped his cell phone back into his pocket.

“Yup! Seeing her Saturday,” Ino flashed a bright smile at Nanami.

“Are you close with your sister?” Nanami found himself asking.

Ino received this question with a look of surprise. Nanami was not prone to small talk, so this caught him quite off guard. He blinked a few times before standing up a little straighter and launching into a monologue about you.

Apparently Ino and his sister were quite close. He explained that his sister had largely raised him due to the significant traveling required by both of his parents’ jobs. She had encouraged him through school and taken on part time jobs in order to help support him. Nanami could tell that Ino felt a great deal of admiration towards her and perhaps that he owed an unpayable debt to her too. He wondered if you knew details of the line of work that Ino was now in or anything about the jujutsu world at all.

“We’re here,” Nanami decided to keep those questions unasked for now. “I have a meeting with Principal Yaga. Good work today.”

“Thank you, Nanami-san!” Ino bowed, brimming with happiness.

…

You checked the clock. Ten minutes until you started your stream. You checked your appearance again in the mirror and tried to reassure yourself that you looked fine. You were dressed in an oversized sweater with lingerie underneath. You wondered how many of your top tier subscribers would tune in today.

“Here we go,” you whispered to yourself before starting the stream. “Hi guys!” you greeted the virtual room.

A few logins dinged as you checked your framing to ensure that your face was out of view.

“Hi Todo, Hi Ken~,” you greeted a few of your regulars as their usernames popped up.

todollyawesome: ‘damn ken, the way she says your name’

ken73: ‘hi cinnamon roll’

You giggled at the nickname. The pseudonym you used online was Cinna and some while ago, fans had taken to calling you their cinnamon roll. Ken was one of the only ones who still used it and it made you feel warm and fuzzy with familiarity.

“I said hi to you too, Todo!” you protested playfully, watching as the viewer numbers ticked up, but only slightly. For an exclusive subscriber stream, it was to be expected, but you were grateful for everyone that did show up.

todollyawesome: ‘yeah but not like the way you say ken73’s name. its fine i get it, he’s dreamy’

You chuckled heartily at this. todollyawesome was another loyal subscriber of yours. Not quite as long as ken73, but he had a personality that certainly stood out. He was playful, boisterous, and always cracking jokes.

“Small group today then, I guess,” you cocked your head to the side. “What’s on everyone’s minds?”

todollyawesome: ‘you and your big juicy ass’

p1ercing.c0ck: ‘work tomorrow’

“Work tomorrow? On Saturday? Yuck,” you stuck your tongue out with distaste.

Kento nodded in agreement. He didn’t chime in to the chatterbox and instead took the time to observe you. You were dressed in an oversized, cozy sweater with part of the collar off-shoulder. This exposed one black bra strap and a generous view of your collarbone. Kento found himself wanting to suck and bite, marking you up.

“Shall we relieve some stress?” you asked, “Or do we just feel like chatting?”

It was a genuine question. While you were technically a sex worker, sometimes your smaller group streams did just naturally end up as chatting with a few friends.

“Aside from piercing, do other folks have weekend plans?”

todollyawesome: ‘hanging out with my best friend, yuj’

“Nice!” you smiled. “What about you, Ken?”

Kento’s eyebrows raised at the direct call out.

p1ercing.c0ck: ‘RIP cinna’s not even tryna hide her favoritism anymore’

todollyawesome: ‘man we been known that he was her favorite, old news’

“I mean…,” you laughed softly at the direct call out, “He’s been with me the longest,” you shrugged.

It was silly, of course, but you did have your favorites. Aside from being your longer subscriber, he also quite liked his personality. It was straightforward and though not as colorful as todo’s, it stood out to you just as much if not more.

In conversational settings, like now, he was quite reserved. While others liked to draw your attention by being ostentatious, Ken rarely did that. In sexual settings, however, he seemed to change completely. His messages were domineering, demanding, and downright filthy. You recalled clenching while reading them more than a few times. Ken struck you as someone who knew very clearly what they wanted and articulated it.

The personality that you'd fabricated for him was one of quiet confidence and unbridled, raw sexuality. A heady combination.

Kento swelled at the simple explanation for why he was your favorite. A sort of possessive pride filled up his chest at this subtle confirmation.

ken73: 'you're my favorite too.’

todollyawesome: ‘dude they're flirting 👀’

p1ercing.c0ck: 'don't mind me just watching 👀’

“Oh you're both into watching, huh?” you teased, eyebrows raising off screen. “How do you feel about that, Ken?”

Kento considered this for a moment.

ken73: ‘i'm not sure, to be honest’

You grinned. This was a very characteristic answer. Open and honest.

p1ercing.c0ck: ‘i just know it's big zaddy ken’

This had you cackling. You really did adore your top tier subscribers.

Kento flushed at the compliment.

“Speaking of big,” you hummed as you looked over your toy collection. “What do we think of this one?” you selected a dildo and brought it on screen. It was sizable to say the least. Girthy with a bulbous head, it was one of your favorite toys because of the way it popped inside of you initially.

todollyawesome: 'oh fuck yea! gonna show us how you take it?’

ken73: ‘love seeing you spread open around it’

“Piercing’s hands are too busy to type, I guess,” you teased as you stood up and readjusted. You moved the camera down to the floor and adhered the suction cup on the base of the dildo. You straddled it and flipped your skirt up.

“Oh I'm wet, guys,” you moaned, tugging your panties upwards so that the fabric outlined your puffy lips more clearly. A damp, dark spot was obvious.

todollyawesome: 'fucking super soaker 🥴’

p1ercing.c0ck: ‘on my computer screen but never on me 😔’

You rocked your hips, grinding your clit against the taut fabric. A warbled moan left your lips and the chat box popped off again.

ken73: ‘you sound so gorgeous’

todollyawesome: ‘that voice makes me NUT every time, without fail’

“Hah, thanks guys,” you smiled as you let off your clit slightly. “Can I please sit on it?” you cooed.

p1ercing.c0ck: ‘PLEASE GOD YES’

todallyawesome: ‘i’m gonna pass out if you DONT. ON GAWD’

ken73: ‘...do you think you’ve been good enough?’

Your chest fluttered. Ken was so withholding and it drove you wild.

“I think I’ve been good,” you pouted, “Don’t you think I’m a good girl, Ken?”

p1ercing.c0ck: ‘bro…should we leave?’

todollyawesome: ‘y’all need to do a 1:1 stream FR’

Your eyebrows perked at that. You weren’t not interested.

“You’re right, I’m singling him out, aren’t I?” you relented. “Well, I suppose I should sit on this thing and give you what you came for,” you teased, singsongily.

You angled your hips back so that the tip pressed against the wet fabric of your panties.

“Hmm, panties off or pushed to the side?” you asked your audience. “To the side, it is!” you grinned at the easy consensus.

A soft moan left your lips when you pushed your panties to the side. The slick juices caused the elastic to roll across your clit in a way that had you reeling. You glanced quickly as you positioned yourself over the bulbous head. It was a gratuitous upskirt shot as you lowered yourself on the toy slowly.

Kento groaned, hand fisted around his angry erection as he lowered it in time with you. His eyes were glued to your shining lips and the way they spread to accommodate the toy’s girth. Even just after one pass, it was coated with your slick ooze.

“So nice,” you exhaled dreamily when you reached the base. “So full.”

ken73: ‘good girl’

todollyawesome: ‘i’m dead. i died.’

Kento rocked his hips up into his fist as you worked yourself up and down on the toy. You were so fucking wet that a ring of froth was starting to collect at the base. God what he wouldn’t give to see that around his own cock. The swollen, dark head disappearing into your lovely folds as you utterly coated him with your arousal.

“Oh fuck,” you panted, your nipples tightening as your bounces grew sloppier. “I-, hmph!”

ken73: ‘gonna cum already? desperate thing…’

“It’s so wide,” you tried to explain, “The head. Feels so good,” you moaned wantonly.

“I love,” your breathing grew labored, “Love that fat tip,” you cried desperately as it raked against your sensitive spots.

p1ercing.c0ck: ‘god it’s so good when she gets like this’

Kento agreed. So aroused that you could barely string together sentences. He threw his head back and milked himself faster. The tendons in his forearm and hand flexed deliciously as he applied firm pressure to his cock. His thumb brushed over the tip occasionally, which caused his whole body to tense and shudder with pleasure.

“I-, I’m,” you spoke through your panting, “Gonna cum,” you whined just before your body tensed. The orgasm shot through your body with a shudder and a long, satisfied moan wrenched from your lips.

Kento grunted as the sound of your release triggered his. His heavy balls tightened and cum spurted through his stranglehold onto his tummy and chest. He continued stroking lazily, half hard, as he watched you rock through a second orgasm, this time with the toy stuffed deeply inside of you with shorter up and down motions. Ken wondered how many times he might be able to lazily pump you through orgasms until you tapped out.

“Thank you guys for tuning in,” you smiled as you supported yourself with your forearms planted in front of you. “I had fun, as always.”

p1ercing.c0ck: ‘thank you you beautiful goddess!!’

todollyawesome: ‘MARRY ME PLZ CINNA’

ken73: ‘thank you, princess. i think todolly was joking, but curious if i may in fact DM you about a 1:1 or custom audio? if you’re open to it’

Your heart skipped a beat at Ken’s message.

“Please do!” you smiled, blowing a kiss at the camera before ending the stream.

…

You huffed after checking your email. The past twenty hours had seen you searching for a notification from your streaming platform that never came. Perhaps ken73 hadn't been serious, but he didn't strike you as the type to ask that question flippantly. Shaking your head, you tucked your phone back into your pocket and you scanned the area for Takuma once more.

“Hey sis!” you saw his beanied head emerge from the crowd suddenly.

“Takuma!” you waved at him excitedly. When he got close enough, you folded him into a giant hug. It had been too long since you’d last seen him.

“How are you? You look great,” Takuma complimented you genuinely.

“Well thank you,” you laughed. Takuma hadn't changed.

“Aren’t you going to tell me I look great too?” your brother asked cheekily.

You leaned your head back and let out a belly laugh.

“I don’t know,” you teased, “This beanie…I don’t know if I dig the look.”

Takuma crossed his arms and huffed in protest.

“I look cool!”

“You always look cool,” you patted his head affectionately. Takuma had outgrown you in height now, so you had to reach up to do it, but he was still your little brother. “Hungry?”

“Yes! Always.”

“So how are things with your…work?”

You had a blurry understanding of the jujutsu world. When Takuma had first enrolled in Tokyo Jujutsu High, Principal Yaga had met with you as a courtesy to help you understand exactly why Takuma had been chosen. Takuma had excitedly kept you apprised of his training and ascension through the levels, but after graduating and becoming fully fledged, the sharing had ceased. You certainly understood the need to keep secrets too, so you never pushed too hard. So long as Takuma came home safe, you were satisfied.

“Really good!” Takuma beamed, “I had an assignment with Nanami-san this week. I learn a lot when I get to work with him.”

You smiled. This Nanami had become a mentor of sorts to Takuma through the years. It was clear that Takuma looked up to him and perhaps even idolized him to a degree.

“How are things with you?”

“Good,” you flipped through the menu, “Things at the office have been surprisingly calm and not much has changed.”

“That’s good,” Takuma smiled.

Dinner passed quickly with Takuma filling most of the silence with stories about the new students at Jujutsu High. You listened to him happily. Even if you didn’t share much in common anymore, these days, you were glad to see that Takuma hadn’t lost any of his positivity. It seemed that this Nanami-san was doing his best to take care of him and for that you were truly grateful.

“That dinner was not good,” Takuma shook his head regretfully as you left the restaurant with him.

“I have to agree,” you felt bad saying it, but it was true. “How about I cook for us next time?”

“I would love that! I miss your cooking,” Takuma beamed at you.

“Let me know what you want me to make!” and you chuckled at the speed with which your brother started rattling dishes off the top of his head.

…

‘You have (1) new messages!’

Your eyebrows raised. You clicked on the hyperlink in the email which brought you to the streaming platform.

ken73: ‘I apologize for the delay. Following up on my comment from earlier. I would love to discuss commissioning a custom audio from you.’

You were a bit surprised. You would’ve expected a 1:1 video session to be more interesting, but alas.

sweetcinna: ‘of course! I was starting to think you weren’t serious ;)’ sweetcinna: ‘full transparency, I haven’t done any custom audios to date, but am willing! if you have a script already or a scenario with some themes in mind, that would be really helpful’

Along with that, you sent some rough ideas of pricing that were mostly a wild guess.

Kento stared at his phone. Scenarios and themes…his mind went blank. All he could think was that he just enjoyed hearing you moan, but that wasn’t anything that you could go off of. He tapped the side of his phone as he thought.

If he let his mind run wild…what would it come up with? He certainly enjoyed your playful and sometimes teasing nature. Your little exhales of surprise made him think he would quite enjoy putting you in your place, manhandling you if needed. Looking up from his phone, the tie on his dresser from the day prior caught his eye. He would love to see you wear it and he wondered if he would enjoy binding your wrists with it.

ken73: ‘I enjoy it when you’re playful and tease. I imagine myself manhandling you a bit when you need to be put in your place. Lastly, I wear a tie to work every day…’

A delighted smile crept up your lips. So a little bit of a brat tamer and perhaps some shibari or bondage interest. You could work with that.

sweetcinna: ‘hm, ok! does an office/workplace scenario interest you?’ ken73: ‘Candidly, no. I prefer not to think about my job during off hours.’ sweetcinna: ‘that’s totally fair, I get it.’ sweetcinna: ‘hmm, how about something more domestic? like welcoming you home after a long day of work.’ ken73: ‘That sounds quite nice.’ sweetcinna: ‘perfect…also what would you like me to call you in this audio scenario?’ ken73: ‘You can keep calling me Ken.’ sweetcinna: ‘sounds good, ken :)’ sweetcinna: ‘let me mull this over a bit and flesh out the scene a bit more. i’ll send you more plot points as I think of them!’ ken73: ‘Great. Thank you, princess. And payment should already be to you.’

This surprised you. You checked and it was indeed already there in your virtual tip jar.

sweetcinna: ‘thank you sugar daddy! ;P’

Kento’s eyebrows raised sharply.

Daddy…

…

You tapped your chin with a pencil as you looked at the sheet of paper in front of you.

playful/bratty character

brat tamer? Ken

welcoming him home from work

his tie

You huffed. Maybe this custom audio thing was tougher than you had expected. How were you supposed to come up with something out of thin air? You laid down in your bed and closed your eyes, allowing your mind to roam for a bit.

You wondered about Ken. He seemed somewhat stern, but he had to have a wild side if he was following you. You wondered what he looked like. You imagined someone tall and strong. You weren’t sure if the 73 in his username referred to his birth year, but you had assumed that he must be a bit older. You wondered if you should play into a bit of an age gap fantasy…a lot of men tended to enjoy that. Your eyes popped back open as an idea struck you.

“Aha!” you ran back to your desk and scribbled down a few more bullet points.

Ken coming home from work

I’ve been teasing him all day with suggestive texts and explicit pictures

Ken is frustrated and has been aching to get home to reprimand me

I welcome Ken home dressed in nothing but an apron

Ken is stern, ties my wrists together to a bedpost. spanks and overstimulates me until i apologize

You did some more workshopping of the phrasing before sending it off to ken73. You were delighted when he wrote back that he loved the scenario.

…

Kento couldn’t wait to get home. He had received your audio file in his email earlier in the day and he had rushed through the rest of the day in a blur. Exorcizing curses seemed much more tolerable when he had something to look forward to at the end of the day. Gojo’s antics hadn’t even bothered him as much as usual, which was exceedingly rare.

He shrugged off his jacket and harness while he slipped off his shoes. It wasn’t much longer before he had your file open and was pressing ‘play’.

‘hi baby, welcome home!’ your voice greeted him, sounding slightly far away as some background noise accompanied it.

‘i’m in the kitchen!’

Kento closed his eyes, imagining walking through a set of hallways, slightly on edge from your teasing throughout the day.

“You’re acting awfully chipper,” he greeted you with a cool, terse voice. “When you’ve been acting like a needy little slut all day.”

‘who me?’ you giggled breathily.

“Yes, you,” he growled, stepping through the final doorway to the kitchen. His eyes glanced over your and they widened upon finding that you were dressed only in an apron.

‘hi Ken,’ you greeted him shyly.

Ken’s jaw ticked. Did you think there weren’t going to be any consequences for your actions?

‘i missed you today,’ you stepped towards him, but were stopped.

“You pissed me off today,” he imagined gripping you by the wrists firmly.

‘oh? i-’

“I had a lot of work to get done and I was able to accomplish practically none of it. Sending me all of those pictures and texts…”

‘oh did i distract you?’ you giggled, toying with him. ‘you know i can’t control myself when i get like that’

Kento snorted. This was indeed true. When you were turned on, there was practically no stopping you.

‘maybe you need to teach me a lesson,’ you wondered and he could hear the smirk on your face when you’d said that.

“Maybe I do,” Kento responded to your taunt. Maybe he needed to tie your wrists together with his necktie and spank you until you apologized for your behavior.

‘where are you taking me?’ you asked

“To teach you that lesson,” he replied.

‘you’re-, you’re tying me up?’ your voice sounded like a purr of a delight.

Kento imagined binding your wrists to his headboard, lifting your legs up by the ankles, and folding you in half so that the backs of your thighs were exposed to him. Then you’d have to count. To ten.

‘one!’ you cried at the sound of a spank.

Kento was surprised. You really made it immersive. By the tenth and final spank, your voice had grown airy and you had melted into the bed. He wouldn’t be surprised if you were soaked by now. Soaked and ready for him.

‘ken I need you,’ you moaned desperately. ‘i’ve needed you all day, please’

“So desperate,” he found himself teasing as he palmed himself through his slacks.

‘baby pleeease? can i please have that cock?’

It was too easy to melt at your request. He pulled himself out of his zipper and stroked, nodding to himself.

‘i can’t stop thinking about you,’ you confessed before wet sounds sucked Kento fully into the fantasy.

Your mouth and your pussy were used freely and you came loudly for him several times. He was proud of himself for lasting until the end of the audio, but the sounds of you hiccuping and begging for him to cum inside of you ultimately pushed him right over the edge and he exploded magnificently into his own hand.

Kento breathed deeply for a while before he tidied himself up. You were addicting.

ken73: ‘Thank you so much for that, sweetheart. Incredible.’

…

Why were you flustered by a message?! You wanted to smack yourself. The message you had received from Ken had been so simple and yet you found yourself melting at his praise.

sweetcinna: ‘thank you!! i really enjoyed making it.’ sweetcinna: ‘may I ask you? do you find yourself responding to me in the scenario? i often wonder that about my listeners, but haven’t ever asked!’

Ken was surprised at your question. He hadn’t even really been expecting a message back, since the transaction was technically complete.

ken73: ‘It sounds silly, but I do respond sometimes. You are very talented at creating an immersive scene, so I can’t help it at times.’ sweetcinna: ‘thank you very much.’ sweetcinna: ‘would it be odd to share that i’m curious what you sound like? like what types of responses come to your mind when you listen to me?’ ken73: ‘Would you like to hear my voice?’

Your heart leapt into your throat. His directness really grabbed you, for whatever reason.

sweetcinna: ‘yes, but i understand if you find that odd! i was just talking’ ken73: ‘No, I would like that very much. Take some time to think about it and let me know.’

Your heart was pounding.

…

You stared at your phone nervously. You had thought about it, probably too many times, before confirming that you wanted to do a phone call with Ken. You’d picked a day and the time had flown by.

ken73: ‘I’m running a bit late, but I will be home very soon.’ sweetcinna: ‘no rush!’

You decided to pour yourself a glass of wine while you waited. It wasn’t excessive, but the little bit of alcohol helped to ease your nerves.

ken73: ‘I am home. Here’s my number for you to call.’

You dialed and listened to the ring tone, full of excitement and anxiety. It rang just twice before he picked up.

“Hello, this is Ken.”

“Hi,” you did your best to keep your voice level. “How are you?”

“I’m good now, sweetheart. How was your day?”

“It was good,” you thought for a moment, “Work was not too eventful and now I get to talk to you!”

Kento smiled. He was incredibly pleased that you had agreed to a phone call. It was one thing to listen to your audios, but getting to interact with you in a more live fashion thrilled him.

“You have a nice voice, Ken,” you observed, interjecting into his thoughts.

“Ah, thank you,” he found himself flushing and chuckling at your words.

“You have a nice laugh too,” you pressed. You found yourself wanting to hear it again.

“You’re very complimentary, aren’t you?”

“Only when I have reason to be,” you shrugged.

“Consider me flattered,” Kento loosened his tie.

“Are you getting undressed?” you asked, hearing the rustling of fabric on his end.

“Not quite,” Nanami let out a hearty laugh. “Just loosening my tie.”

“Ah,” you nodded, “The tie that you’d like to tie me up with?” you flirted shamelessly.

Nanami tensed at your direct suggestion. Minx.

“I think you deserve it, don’t you?” his voice got lower somehow.

You let out a nervous, airy giggle. His voice was so attractive.

“Answer me,” he insisted.

“Please Ken,” you bit your lower lip and squirmed.

“That’s a good girl,” he exhaled, palming himself through his zipper.

“Your good girl,” you corrected him and you were rewarded with a soft growl.

A streak of possessiveness ran through him.

“That’s right, isn’t it?” he mused, “I’m the one who gets to enjoy you like this, aren’t I?”

“Uh huh,” you giggled. It was true after all, he was the first and only subscriber of yours to cross over into something more.

“My good girl,” he groaned and you purred in response.

“Are you hard?” you asked, hand snaking down to tease your inner thighs.

“Very,” he chuckled.

“Wish I could see,” you pouted.

Kento was struck with the sudden realization that he was more than willing to show you. In lieu of that, for now, he could try and paint you a word picture.

“Greedy girl,” he teased, “You’d love to feast your eyes on my cock, straining in my pants just from listening to you, wouldn’t you?”

“Yes,” you exhaled breathily, “Would want to feel it, rub my face on it, and then ask you if I could take it out.”

“So polite,” he leaned his head back. “Polite little thing.”

“Sir, may I touch myself?” you asked.

“Not yet, sweetheart,” he clicked his tongue, he wanted to tease you a little bit longer.

You let out a whine of disappointment that was music to his ears. You were so expressive and he loved that he was wrenching these sounds out of you.

“You’re going to get on your knees and watch me play with myself,” he decided.

You pouted, even though he couldn’t see you. Your cunt clenched at the thought. The denial was frustratingly arousing.

“Yes, sir,” you answered him, shifting to your knees.

“God you have me aching,” he exhaled shakily as he undid his pants and pulled himself out. His cock was heavy and thick in his hand.

“Would you describe it to me?”

“Naughty girl,” he grinned, “It’s decent sized,” he considered himself. “Six or seven inches with a wide, bulbous head. Veiny and,” he circled his fingers around the shaft, “Fairly thick.”

“Oh fuck,” you sighed contentedly, “You have a pretty cock.”

“Pretty cock for my pretty girl,” he chuckled at your description.

Your thighs squeezed together at his praise. You so desperately wanted to touch yourself…do something to relieve the throbbing ache between them.

“How long do I have to wait?” you squirmed, the crotch of your panties pressing against your clit torturously.

“Go ahead, baby,” Kento relented, “I know you’re not good at being patient.”

You flushed at the soft dig, but thanked him anyway and reached down to rub your aching slit.

“If you were here, I would have you suck my cock while you waited, but alas…,” his rich voice filled your ears and your toes curled.

“I would love that,” you breathed, “I would love to taste you. Feel that beautiful cock on my tongue,” you moaned wantonly.

Ken groaned as you described how you would lick and suck his raging erection. Nibble your lips along the underside, suckle at the bulbous tip, and swallow him down until you gagged on him. He felt like he could burst.

“Get me nice and hard with your pretty mouth,” he sighed, his chest heaving as he stroked himself to your pace. “So you can sit on it.”

You purred excitedly at this thought.

“May I?” you sat up, wanting to grab a toy.

“I think you must,” he chuckled.

You grabbed a dildo with a suction cup at the base and stuck it to the ground. You kneeled and positioned the head at your entrance before lowering yourself slowly.

“Oh fuck!” you whined at the pleasurable stretch. “Ken, fuck…”

Kento’s balls tighten when you moaned for him. He filled in the second syllable of his name in his mind as his hips bucked of their own accord. God, you made him want to bully his cock deep inside of you.

“So good, baby,” he groaned through gritted teeth, “So good taking it for me.”

You whined, bouncing your hips lower and lower on the dildo. Your nipples tightened as you approached orgasm.

“Hng, Daddy, can I cum?” you pleaded without thinking, desperate and wanton.

Kento’s body betrayed him.

“Yes, fuck!” he managed to answer before he came violently. His abs contracted forcefully as he shot ropes of cum onto himself. Your sounds of orgasm melted into his as you both reached your highs together.

“You came?” you asked after catching your breath.

“Yes,” Kento answered, his body slumped down in his chair.

“I should’ve asked you about the ‘daddy’ thing first,” you realized suddenly, “I’m sorry if I caught you off guard with that.”

“It…,” Kento paused. As loathe as he was about admitting it, he felt like he could with you. “I don’t…hate it.”

“But do you like it?” you insisted.

“...yes,” he finally answered.

“Okay good,” you exhaled with relief.

“Do you have other plans this evening?” he asked after a small gap of time.

“No, not tonight. Later in the week I need to get groceries, but nothing today. Do you?”

“Luckily no. Will take care of a few things around my apartment. Cook dinner.”

“Ah, do you enjoy cooking?”

“I do,” Kento nodded. It was a relaxing activity and a welcome reprieve from his job, which was filled with insanity.

“Me too. When I have time, I love to bake.”

“Ah, is that so?” Kento’s ears perked up. He loved baked goods. “What do you like to bake?”

“Oh almost anything,” you settled into your pillows. “Bread if I’m feeling ambitious. Muffins or something else if I’m short on time.”

“Cinnamon roll indeed,” Ken remarked with a chuckle.

A soft warmth flushed through you. Considering that Ken was a technical stranger, it was incredibly comfortable being on the phone with him. Maybe this was how your subscribers felt about you despite knowing very little. It was interesting to be on this end of a parasocial relationship.

…

You looked up from your pot of soup when you heard the buzzer for your front door. Takuma must be here! You let him in and then went to set the table. As usual you had cooked too much food, but you intended for him to pack most of it away anyways.

You answered the door and were surprised when your eyes landed on a tall, blonde stranger.

“Oh…, hello?”

“Hey sis!” Takuma greeted you from behind the stranger with a wide smile. “I hope you don’t mind, but I invited Nanami-san!”

Nanami wished a hole would open up in the ground underneath him. It wasn’t like Ino had railroaded him into joining for dinner, but he had insisted quite adamantly and caught Nanami in a moment of weakness.

“Ah? Ah!” as the name finally triggered recognition and you bowed politely. “Nanami-san, wonderful to meet you! Please come in!”

“I-,” Nanami paused, “Ino, I thought-,” he turned to the younger man with a stern look on his face. Ino hadn’t been quite clear about the invitation, but you clearly hadn’t been expecting Nanami.

“Please, Nanami-san,” you insisted, a soft smile on your face. “I have been wanting to thank you for taking such good care of my younger brother. I would love it if you joined us for dinner.”

Nanami found his cheeks growing warm at your genuine smile. Your eyes were locked directly on his and he found himself struck by your appearance. He noted some subtle similarities to Ino, but mostly he was reeling from how pretty you were. Preparations must’ve still been underway as you were wearing a scallop-edged apron that was tied back in a way that emphasized your shape.

“Ah, thank you,” he bowed before stepping through the doorway.

Takuma helped hang up Nanami’s jacket and leather harness while you added another place setting to the table. You ladeled out three bowls of miso soup and brought them to the table with the other dishes that were already laid out.

“Itadakimasu!” Takuma beamed at you before digging right in.

“Tch, impatient,” you clicked your tongue at him with a fond smile.

“Itadakimasu,” Nanami bowed his head at you as well before picking up his soup spoon. “This looks and smells wonderful.”

“Hopefully it tastes good too,” you winked at him.

“YN is a good cook,” Ino remarked to his mentor.

Nanami’s eyes widened after a few bites. It was delicious.

“This is wonderful,” he complimented you genuinely.

“Thank you,” you grew a little under his heavy stare. He was so serious. “Ah, I forgot!” you stood suddenly, “Would you like anything to drink other than tea?”

“Nanami likes whiskey,” your brother answered helpfully.

“No, you don’t have to,” Nanami put his hands up in protest.

“Ice? No ice?” you asked, ignoring his niceties.

“One ice cube,” he relented and you nodded.

“Let me play house for you, Nanami-san,” you grinned playfully at him when you returned with the glass. “It’s in my nature as an older sister, after all.”

Kento blinked at your teasing. There was something familiar about it. His eyes were glued to you as you untied the apron and hung it on a hook.

“Well, tell me about yourself, Nanami-san!” you demand cheekily as you started in on the food as well. “Considering how many times Takuma has mentioned you, I don’t think I actually know anything about you!”

“Of course,” the tall gentleman nodded, “Nanami Kento. I am twenty-eight years old working as a Grade 1 jujutsu sorcerer.”

You chuckled at his formal introduction.

“Ino YN,” you returned the introduction. “Working as a personal assistant at the Tokyo courthouse. Very nice to meet you.

Nanami found himself smiling at you. You were obviously teasing, but he found that he didn’t dislike it…at all.

“Tell me about your day,” you asked of Takuma as you also started eating.

Without fail, your younger brother launched into enthusiastic storytelling, which allowed you to observe both him and his mentor. Nanami’s blue shirt pulled taut across his shoulders. He wore a spotted tie, which seemed to be in contrast to the rest of his stern appearance. You smiled…it was a nice touch. His hair was parted sharply and his face was full of similar lines and planes, but he was handsome nonetheless.

Nanami looked up during your observation and caught your eye. He was watching you too. Particularly he found himself fixated on your chin and mouth. He felt crazy for even thinking it, but you reminded him of SweetCinna. He even felt that your voice was similar, but perhaps he just found himself attracted and projecting.

“How was your day?” Takuma’s voice cut through the tension. He glanced between you and Nanami and then grinned.

“It was good,” you smiled. “I did some reading in the morning before getting groceries and cooking for dinner.”

“What are you reading?” Nanami asked.

“Land of Milk and Honey by C Pam Zhang. It’s…,” you thought for a moment about how to describe the work. “Interesting. It’s near future dystopian, lots of references and imagery around food.”

“Interesting,” Nanami’s eyebrows raised. “How are you finding it?”

“Hm,” you looked at him head on. “I’m not quite far enough yet to have a strong opinion.”

Nanami nodded. That certainly made sense.

“Do you enjoy reading? I’d be happy to lend it to you when I’m finished.”

“I do,” he nodded, some of the tension seeming to leave his shoulders. “It’s probably my main source of leisure these days.”

“Ah! Me too,” you beamed at him with delight. Nanami smiled at you and your breath caught. There was something satisfying about seeing his stern facade drop.

Takuma look on at your interaction with Nanami, over the moon. This wasn’t exactly what he’d had in mind when he’d extended the invitation, but he certainly wasn’t complaining.

“How can I help?” Nanami asked once everyone had had their fill.

“Help me bring the dishes to the sink?”

He nodded and started stacking empty plates and bowls together. You put your apron and gloves back on and placed everything into the sink.

“Shall I dry?”

“That’s not necessary!” you shook your head, chuckle when the image of Nanami in your apron and gloves popped into your head.

“There’s nothing I can do to help?”

“Oh, actually,” a thought did pop into your head. “Can you help me tie my hair up?” you gestured to the hair tie that was laying on the counter.

Nanami blinked at the request, but nodded, grabbing the elastic. His fingertips brushed along your scalp as he gathered your hair into a bundle. He struggled a bit, but managed to get most of it tied up in the band. You’d tried to bite it back, but Nanami had heard what sounded like a soft purr when he’d tugged a little too hard.

He really felt like he’d heard that before.

…

Nanami tapped his foot impatiently on the train. It had to be you, right?

After the meal with you, he’d tried to put things out of his mind unsuccessfully. The thought of you being SweetCinna had nagged and nagged at him until he’d finally relented and gone over your audio collection with a fine toothed comb. He’d listened and listened to your honeyed voice, painfully hard, until he’d found a clip that made things fall into place.

‘tch, i’m not a brat!’

The click of your tongue had been so similar to your admonishment of your brother.

As he continued to wonder whether he was valid or crazy, his phone chimed with a notification.

sweetcinna: ‘any chance you’re free?’ ken73: ‘I am actually. Anything the matter?’ sweetcinna: ‘no? does something have to be the matter for us to talk?’ ken73: ‘No not at all, angel. I just wasn’t sure if it was a one-off last time.’

You regarded your phone with a look. You supposed that was a fair assumption, but after your slip up with Nanami’s hand in your hair you’d found yourself with an excess of sexual tension that you wanted to work out…with Ken.

sweetcinna: ‘would you be interested in chatting on the phone again?’ ken73: ‘Of course. Give me a few minutes and I’ll let you know when you can call.’

“Hello!” you greeted him sunnily.

“Hi angel,” he smiled at the sound of your voice.

“How are you?”

“Very good,” he nodded.

“Very good?” you laughed, “And why’s that?”

Kento paused before answering in a way that wouldn’t give himself up quite yet.

“It was just a good day,” he shrugged. “How about you? How was your day?”

“It was actually quite good as well,” you answered honestly, “I had dinner with my younger brother and that was a lot of fun.”

“Oh, is that so?”

“Yes!” beamed as you recalled the meal. “He actually invited a colleague of his who I’d never met before. He talks about him often, so it was nice to meet the gentleman.”

“It must’ve been a bit of a surprise then?” Kento asked.

“It was, but not in a bad way,” you shook your head, “He was quite handsome,” you giggled as you thought of Nanami’s tall, broad form again.

Kento was almost jealous for a moment before he remembered that you were actually referring to him.

“Is that so?” he raised an eyebrow, feigning jealous anyways.

“Quite,” you answered honestly. “Are you jealous?” you asked, catching the slight edge in his voice.

“Should I be?”

“I don’t think so,” you answered giddily, “I probably won’t see him again. And it’s not like he’s made me cum just with his voice, right?”

Kento let out a sharp laugh. You were quite skilled at flattery.

“Hmm,” he hummed in agreement, “And is that why you called? So I can remind my slutty little princess just how hard I make you cum?”

“Maybe…”

“Ask me for it, pretty girl,” Ken’s voice was low and thick in your ear.

“Hng…Ken, please,” you relented with a soft whine.

Kento squeezed his eyes shut at this noise. You were so alluring. He would have to tell you…he wanted to tell you, but for now he needed to hear you cum, fall apart for him and only him.

“Very good girl,” he hummed, pleased.

You squirmed. It was ridiculous how so few words could have you clenching for him. Your nipples were pebbled through your thin shirt and you brushed your fingertips over them with a soft hiss.

“Tell me what you’re doing,” he demanded, palming himself through the front of the sweatpants that he had changed into.

“My nipples,” you panted, “Teasing them, through my shirt.”

“Imagine, my tongue on them. Lapping with my tongue wide and flat and then teasing with the tip, getting the fabric damp and wet so that when I blow on it, it grows cool.”

“Oh fuck!” you arched instinctively, images of Nanami popping into your mind. His mouth working at your puckered nipples as Ken described.

“Make a pretty wet spot to match the one that I know is on your panties.”

“Ken!” your chest heaved with ragged breaths.

“Yes, pretty girl?”

“I need,” you squirmed, “I need…something.”

“Have you been waiting for me?” Kento asked, slightly fuzzy in the chest at your obedience, despite your obvious desire.

“Yes,” you nodded, “I'm being good, I swear.”

“Can you wait for me just a bit longer? I’d like to take my time tonight.”

Kento heard you nod and he imagined the breathless expression on your face, this time in full clarity. God, he wanted you. To push your knees apart. To tie your wrists together above your head. To feast on you until he'd had his fill.

“Fuck,” he threw his head back and groaned. He hadn't thought it was impossible, but his cock was harder knowing who you were and that you were potentially in reach.

Your toes curled as you pulled your knees to your chest. Your cunt was aching and dripping at Ken’s rough, deep voice and you wished he were there to bury himself inside of you and fuck you within an inch of consciousness. You wished to be drooling and mindless, stuffed full of his fat erection.

“Daddy please, I can't wait anymore,” you cried.

Kento growled at the moniker.

“Go ahead, baby,” he coaxed you. “Go ahead and touch that pretty pussy for me. I know you need it.”

“Thank you thank you thank you,” you murmured as your fingers stroked over your soaked lips. “Fuck I'm so wet,” you giggled, relaxing with relief.

“God I want to taste you,” Kento moaned. “Eat you until it's dripping down my chin. Until you're crying.”

“Fuck! I’m gonna,” you choked at his fervent words, “Can I? Please?”

Nanami’s vision went red. So. Fucking. Polite.

“Cum for Daddy,” he coaxed.

Your body jerked. Hearing him refer to himself that way triggered a deep and primal response in you that had you crying out for him as you snapped.

Nanami’s pupils dilated as he listened to you come apart. You were so loud, so clear, so gorgeous…for him.

“Beautiful,” his voice was almost like a whisper now.

“You haven't cum yet?”

“No, not yet.”

His self control was really something else.

“Good, because I need you to cum in my pussy,” you declared.

Kento’s eyebrows raised. Little brat.

“Oh is that so? How do you figure that?”

“Because I'm you're good little slut,” you insisted. “Don't you want to fill me up?”

Kento barked out a laugh that sent a thrill down your spine. He wanted to grab a fistful of your hair and pull you to eye level with him.

“Babygirl. Listen to me carefully now,” his voice was hard, “I will cum where I want, when I want, and you will be happy with it.”

You melted audibly into your bed with a fluttery sigh and Kento smirked. You were perfect.

“You're lucky I'm in the mood to pump you full of my cum tonight,” he remarked and you felt yourself gush again.

“Please,” you nodded. You felt like you were floating. “I need you to fuck your cum into me with that fat cock, please!”

Kento grunted, hips bucking up into his fist. The dark, swollen head disappeared and reappeared repeatedly between his thumb and pointer finger as his hip flexors worked.

“Kento,” your tongue slipped as you ground your clit against the heel of your palm. “I'm co-oming!” your breath hitched in your throat as you did.

“Hah,” his panting was throaty. He tensed at the sound of your second orgasm and the mental image of being balls deep inside of you pushed him over the edge with you.

You listened to each other breathe as your minds returned to your bodies.

“Did that scratch your itch?” Kento finally asked, a content smile on his lips.

“Very much so,” you nodded, eyelids growing heavy with relaxation.

“You should sleep,” he murmured after hearing a yawn.

“Goodnight, Ken,” you muttered.

“Goodnight, YN,” he whispered after ending the call.

…

You checked your wristwatch again. The train was more than a few minutes late today. It had been a reasonable day at the courthouse, but you were ready to go home.

Eventually, the train car doors slid open with a squeak and you stepped inside. Glancing around, you were surprised when you saw a now-familiar silhouette.

“Nanami-san!” you found yourself moving towards him.

“A-ah, Ino-san,” he greeted you with a surprised expression.

“Nice to see you again. Are you headed home?”

Nanami nodded and you reached up to grab a handhold as the train pulled out of the station. The car jerked slightly and you stumbled, hand wrapping around Nanami’s flexed bicep instead.

“Shoot!” you squeaked as you tried to steady yourself. You almost jumped out of your skin when a warm hand met the small of your back, helping you regain your balance. “I’m sorry,” you turned away, slightly mortified.

“Quite alright,” Kento found himself pleased at your self-consciousness. His hand was splayed across your back and he let it linger for a moment or two longer than necessary. “How was your day?”

“It was a little busy, but not bad,” you looked up at him. “And yours?”

“It was a fair day. Did some training with students. Have you gotten any further in your book?”

“Oh I have!” your face lit up and you turned to face him. “It’s quite interesting. The language is very beautiful.”

“Hmm,” Kento nodded and you shared more of the plot and your opinions on the work.

“Oh, my stop is next,” you interjected with realization. You turned to him with a look in your eye that was almost regretful.

“May I walk you back?” Kento found himself asking. “I’m enjoying this conversation.”

“A-ah, of course!” you nodded. Heat prickling up the back of your neck.

Nanami fell into step with you as you led the way to your apartment. You found yourself truly enjoying his company so you took a few scenic options.

“Has Ino ever shared much about his special technique with you?” Kento asked.

“No,” you shook your head. “And I suppose I’ve never asked.”

“I see.” Nanami nodded. He inhaled deeply, now was as good a time as any. “There are a wide variety of techniques. One of mine involves creating weak points at a set ratio of 7:3. Some refer to me as the 7:3 Sorcerer.”

You stilled for a moment. 7:3? Nanami Kento, the 7:3 Sorcerer?

You heard an almost comical screeching sound in your mind as the pieces puzzled themselves together. Could Nanami be ken73? Surely that would be too coincidental.

Nanami had kept walking, so you found yourself several paces behind him when you snapped out of your thoughts. You jogged lightly to catch up, shooting him a furtive glance as you did so. You certainly wouldn’t mind it if he was. Imagining all of the phone calls that you’d had, those words coming out of Nanami’s mouth, had a fiery heat building steadily in your belly.

You were rendered quiet until you reached your building. You paused at the sidewalk and tried to keep your face straight as you bowed politely.

“Thank you for walking me back. I enjoyed our conversation today.”

“Likewise,” Nanami nodded. He looked you over from head to toe. You were doing a remarkably good job of staying composed, so he was not sure whether you had picked up on his clues or not. As you turned to enter your building, one last thought entered into his mind.

“YN…are you a fan of cinnamon rolls, by chance?”

Your mask fell. Your mouth fell into a circle and you turned to face Nanami again, eyes searching. He had taken his glasses off and his gaze bore into you, heavy and hot.

“Ken?” you murmured in disbelief.

His lips curled into a smile and relief curled through his chest.

“How?” you shook your head as he stepped towards you.

“I’ve been subscribed to you for years, remember? It is so surprising that I could identify your voice?” his eyes flicked over your face. “Plus you are an insufferable tease in real life too.”

You felt like there was steam coming off the top of your head. You had wondered in the past what it might feel like to be discovered, but it was always more doomsday-y than this. Having Kento find out felt more like relief and nervous excitement. You wondered what he was thinking.

“I am wildly attracted to you, both physically and mentally, but I don’t want to presume anything on your end because I understand that our virtual connection was also your job.”

“You’re not,” you answered honestly. “I-, it was meaningful to me too.”

Kento nodded.

“May I take you out on a date?”

“You don’t think we could skip that?” you reached for his tie playfully.

“I don’t-,” Kento’s mind stuttered at your touch. “I don’t want you to get the wrong idea by doing things out of order.”

Your chest squeezed. He was so proper…until he wasn’t.

“Can’t you make an exception for me?” you cooed, running your hands along his lapels.

His hands clutched your wrists and stilled them. There was a tick in his jaw that hadn’t been there before.

“If I tell you no, would you be a good girl for me and wait?”

“Yes,” you sighed, relishing the pressure of his strong grip.

“Good girl. I’ll see you tomorrow for dinner, then,” he decided and then stepped back. Almost as an afterthought he added, “And don’t even think about touching yourself before then.”

You almost let out an anguished wail at this. He was going to make you wait to have him. And you would.

…

You were vibrating with anticipation when Kento picked you up. The night passed torturously slowly with soft grazes of his knuckles against your calves, his fingertips trailing across your hips and lower back, and his warm breath curling around the shell of your ear when he spoke.

Nanami had watched proudly as you had held back shivers and bit down moans as he’d teased you through the evening. He couldn’t get enough of touching you. Watching you barely hold it together, just for him. Keeping up his gentleman’s facade he walked you to your front door, kissed your knuckles and then moved to leave.

“Kento, please,” you begged softly, looping your arm around his torso and resting your forehead against his back. “I need you,” you whispered, voice growing frayed as your sanity unwound.

Kento swept you up into his arms and pressed a kiss to your temple. You grabbed him by the necktie and pulled him into a ravenous kiss as he backed you into your apartment. Your hands pushed the suit jacket off of his shoulders and explored his broad form. For a moment Kento was caught off guard by the ferocity of your kisses, but he adjusted quickly.

“Shall I put on the apron?” you teased, lips brushing against his. The groan he let out was well worth it.

“Later,” he pressed you down onto the bed and grasped you by the ankles.

He pressed a kiss against your left ankle before he set them on his shoulders. His hands traced down your calves and pushed your skirt up over your plush thighs. It was like unwrapping a present. He found himself kneeling until your legs were hooked over his shoulders and his face was buried against your quivering, needy cunt. You had leaked completely through your panties through the course of the date and your inner thighs were slick with shine.

“All for me, princess?” he teased, before diving in. He dragged his nose along your core and kissed you languidly through the fabric. The noises were so wet and gushy, music to his ears.

“Kento,” you arched up against him, desperate for more. “Please fuck me,” you begged, the words coming out in wet, hot little pants. “You can torture me later, take your time later, but please I need you to fuck me right now!”

Kento smirked against your pussy. He had really done a number on you.

“Since you asked nicely,” he relented, peeling off his disheveled clothes. Your eyes feasted on him as he pulled off your panties and set your ankles back on his shoulders. His pupils dilated as he watched your juices coat his fat tip. His eyes rolled back as his cock slipped past your impossibly tight lips with a ‘pop’.

“God you are fucking tight, princess,” he marveled as he rocked into you. “Your pussy is gripping me.”

“Kento, more.”

He nodded and pressed a kiss to your calf again before he stroked himself deeply into you. You let out an embarrassing noise as he filled you up. Your eyes rolled back and your hips canted to meet his thrusts. Wet sounds of him burying himself into you mingled with wet pants and low groans. A coil tightened in the pit of your belly.

“I’m,” you gasp punctured the air, “I’m close.”

He nodded, keeping up his pace as you clenched around him.

“Are you?” your wild eyes sought his out, “Together?”

Kento’s eyes widened as his stomach clenched at your breathless request. Together. Yes, he wanted that too.

“A little more,” he answered, “Hold on for me.”

You nodded furiously, stifling your orgasm as Kento rutted himself deep inside of you. His cock stroked deep and thick inside of you until he tensed.

“Now, princess!” he whined, his hips stuttering as his cock twitched deep inside of you. His heavy balls shot ropes of cum into you until his body sagged atop yours.

You pulled him close and pressed kisses across his jaw and over his nose while he recovered. He grew shy at this peppering of affection, which only served to endear you to him more.

“Shall we change my nickname to cream pie instead of cinnamon roll?” you giggled, brushing some hair out of Kento’s eyes.

Kento started laughing so hard that his shoulders shook. You wrapped your arms around them and basked in the sounds of his joy.

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