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#I HAVE SO MANY THOUGHTS ABOUT BITTY
marshmallowgoop · 7 months
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I combined footage from my Detektiv Conan Blu-ray with audio from my Case Closed FUNimation DVD and made an HD English dub clip compilation for Episodes 57-58, "The Holmes Freak Murder Case."
#detective conan#case closed#video#funimation english dub script#i wasn't actually gonna post this video to tumblr because it's so long (because i have a lot of feelings about this case!)#but folks on discord liked it and i'm all about my funi dub propaganda so why not right?#the dub script here is just so fun--and does so well at making the dialogue *work* and sound natural in english#and has so much flavor! it does arguably too much in terms of creative liberties but things like#'can i really trust what a kid saw?' of the sub translation compared to 'and what were you smoking before you ran out there?' in the dub#are much more enjoyable to me#(other fun phrasings: 'the one who's always hangin' around you guys' (sub) vs. 'the little-bitty one with the great big brain!' (dub))#(and 'of course not! the reason i applied for this tour was 'cuz i thought i might find kudo' (sub))#(vs. 'who me? no no no. actually i signed up because i was hoping to run into jimmy here. but i guess i'm out of luck' (dub))#(and so many more! this script just has so much character)#and while it is a shame that the dub eliminated heiji's accent i do like the changed line ('i know it's you!')#'cause you've met shinichi *once* heiji lol#but yeah this is a fun case! i'm really happy to have finally hd'd the funi dub for it :')#one of my favorite things about the funi dub is that jerry jewell (shinichi's va) voices conan's thoughts#and it's so nice to hear *shinichi* and heiji deducting together (and the way they finish each other's thoughts and vibe... it gets to me)
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fizzyvoid · 1 month
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grips something in my hand so hard it explodes. what if i write a little something where carlo, aware of the puppet who's more human than his father ever was, persuades him to accept the king of puppets' hand. to forge his own identity, friendships. gently guides him like an older brother. helps his best friend move on from grief and remorse, and knows what love and peace is like
maybe a certain blue fairy notices, and maybe, he can have a proper chance at a new life. not by taking someone else's, stealing a heart that's learned to love and be human like his father tried to do, but by offering his resilient ergo a place to return
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ourhouseishaunted · 10 months
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my brain for the past like 2 weeks
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strayheat · 1 year
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portal is genuinely such a funny fucking game like holy fuck.this game is great
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eyrie holding a baby in those baby wrap carriers. send tweet.
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fraiserabbit · 3 months
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john dory was my fav drawing he's so silly i luv him <- jd apologist
+ bitty b screenshot to even out the pictures xd
they make my heart grow 3 sizes every time look at em,, i have so many thoughts about their relationship,,
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loko4koko · 3 months
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·:*¨༺ ♱✮♱ Gojo Satoru x f!reader ♱✮♱ ༻¨*:·
100 FOLLOWER MILESTONE CELEBRATION ✰
>fanart_credit: _3aem (via_twitter)
MDNI 18+
>word_count: 7293
>contents: slight crack (it’s a gojo fic what do u expect), established relationship, fake engagements, excessive use of “fiancé/fiancée”, satoru is DOWN BAD like ultra simp 3000 levels, kiiinda rich boy!gojo but like barely, gojo calls you “angel” and baby” a lot, cunnilingus, kinda feral!gojo too, multiple orgasms (f!receiving), multiple positions, explicit p in v, rough(ish) sex, creampie, gojo being a lil slut for you, itty bitty dacryphilia (if you squint mad hard)
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there’s a standoff happening in your kitchen. a staring contest of sorts. the tension in the air is palpable, so thick you could taste it if you stuck out your tongue. your opponent is a worthy contender, giving just as good as it gets. your nose twitches with the intensity of it, eyes narrowed as you keep your gaze firm, focused.
your adversary in this battle? a red, velvet ring box.
god, it’s like it’s taunting you with it’s delicate heart shape. smug little box, just sitting on the dining table unopened. you’re not sure how long you’ve been caught in the orbit of this suspicious item, but it must’ve been quite a while, according to your boyfriend.
“babeee, i’ve been calling you! what’re you doing?” satoru appears from the direction of your bedroom, frown on his face from his belief that you’re purposely ignoring him. he slips behind you, arms around your torso as he leaves a kiss on the top of your head.
“oh,” he laughs as he fixes his eyes on what has you so engrossed, “it’s not what you think.”
this is what gets your attention, turning your head so your gaze is no longer on the little box, but on satoru instead. “what, you proposing to your other girlfriend or something?” you pout. he laughs again, annoyingly louder this time.
“baby, i’m not proposing to anybody yet. and you know i don’t have another girlfriend. it took me 3 years to get you to say yes to one date, you think i’m pulling that off again? thanks for putting faith into my game, though.” you can’t help but to roll your eyes in jest, turning in the man’s arms to wrap yourself around him.
“yeah, yeah, whatever. so…what is it then?”
“it’s a ring.”
“i thought you said you weren’t proposing…”
“okay well, technically, i am. but listen! i saw online some guy and his girlfriend went to different restaurants with a fake ring and when he ‘proposed’ to her, they gave them free food and desserts! so. we’re doing that.”
you pull yourself from satoru’s grasp, staring up at him blankly. he gives you a goofy smile in return, bringing a hand up to boop your nose when you remain silent.
“satoru….really? doing this just so you can get free chocolate lava cakes and ice cream? i’m definitely deleting tiktok from your phone, damn app gives you way too many ideas.” and there he goes frowning again, pretty pink lips downturned so dramatically.
“baby, no…i’m doing this so that WE can get free chocolate lava cakes and ice cream. what kind of selfish, evil man do you take me for? … and you’re not deleting my tiktok! how else am i going to send nanami videos he claims to not watch but always knows about when i ask him?”
a sigh leaves you as you shake your head, truly experiencing defeat. you, and everyone else that had ever met him for that matter, knew that there was no changing satoru’s mind when the words “free” and “dessert” were involved. he’d eat himself into a goddamn diabetic coma if you let him get away with it.
satoru enacts his master plan the next night, surprising you with a stunning new dress and a note that says to “look super sexy and marriageable (where the hell had he even learned that word?) as usual” left on your bed. you try your best to comply with his wishes, getting your makeup and hair as perfect as you can before slipping the very revealing dress on. you realize something rather odd while you doll yourself up; satoru hasn’t come home to get himself ready. it was almost 6pm, the time designated by him in his little note, and you were practically ready aside from some jewelry and shoes. you couldn’t imagine that he would make you wait while he showered and dressed, so you were a little bit confused, but you decide to brush it off while you pick between solid gold hoops and diamond-encrusted dangles, both courtesy of the man in question.
when 6:04pm rolls around, and your fancy yves saint laurent heels are wrapped around your feet, the front door opens. you look up from your seat at the kitchen island with a wine glass in hand, and, in the most cliché way possible, your breath is stolen right out of your lungs. satoru was always stupidly beautiful, just so gorgeous that it made you sick, but now? he looked even more alluring than usual. those inhumanly blue eyes were hidden behind his typical shades, masterfully tailored suit adorning his lanky form like it was painted on. his deep red button up, the same color as your cocktail dress, was unbuttoned for the first three (because he was a slut.) and to top it all off, he was wearing that same award winning smile that he’d dazzled you with so many years ago. if he wasn’t so set on his goddamn desserts, you’d bend over and spread your thighs for him right there on the counter.
“holy fuck,” is the first thing he says to you, grip on a bouquet of what looks like dark red carnations and burgundy roses tightening as he takes you in. he takes off his glasses as he draws in closer, pure reverence in his eyes the whole time. “angel, you look…you look fucking edible. my god. what a woman.” you’re not new to satoru’s comments and compliments, far from it, but tonight, they were hitting a little different, for lack of a better term. maybe it was the look in his eyes, some kind of compound of love and burning desire, but something else, too. something almost…determined, but you don’t know what he’d be determined to do other than put on a good show.
“so, eat me then,” you tease, though the heat in your cheeks and your eyes not meeting his gives away how flustered he’s got you. he’s still looking you over, scrutinizing every pretty inch of you with an overwhelming intensity before his steely gaze levels to yours.
“mm, tempting, but it’ll have to wait; we have to go get engaged first. these,” he holds the flowers out to you, “are yours, my arrestingly beautiful queen.” you can’t help but to laugh at his ultra-corny pet names, but they warm your heart nonetheless, rising from your stool to find a vase to fill with water.
“where were you, anyway? you show up all dressed to the nines on me out of nowhere. what, did you get ready in the car or something?” you ask, back to the white-haired man while you dig around in a cabinet.
“suguru helped me out, kept my suit and let me shower at his place..” he says, almost distantly. you can’t see it, but satoru is watching you, worshipping you with his eyes as you flit around the kitchen in your heels and your dress and your oh so seductive aura. he’s never seen anything or anyone be more mesmerizing in his life, and he knows he never will.
arriving at the first restaurant of the three satoru had planned has your nerves alighting. what if they knew you were faking it? god, how disgraceful that would be—caught in your goober of a boyfriend’s silly scheme would have you too embarrassed to show your face in public for at least two months. but then he smiles at you from the driver seat- a genuine one that eases your anxieties and soothes your concerns, one so brilliant that it instills you with the necessary confidence to go commit…whatever form of fraud this whole thing is. you give him one in return, reaching out to cup his cheek before you’re leaning in to press a gentle kiss to his lips. you can feel him smile even wider when you do.
“so, how much do you want me to sell this? ‘cause, if i cry now, it might not be so believable at the next place.” satoru’s pushing in your chair when you speak, smoothing his hands down your shoulders before giving you a squeeze. he takes his own seat, flipping the menu open to browse through the beverage list.
“best as you can with no tears. gotta save those for the last one,” he tilts his glasses down to send you a wink, and, for the millionth time within your relationship, you’re light-heartedly rolling your eyes at him. “you got it, baby. but! if you don’t share whatever disgustingly sweet, sugar-stuffed, chocolate-drizzled, candy-coated bullshit you ask for, it’s gonna be your pretty little ass.” he laughs at your threat and throws his hands up in resignation. you might be smiling when you say it, but you surely aren’t joking, and he knows it.
you both decide to keep dinner small and light, knowing you’re going to gorge yourselves on whatever insulin-raising dishes your dear boyfriend chooses to indulge in. it’s not long after you put your fork down when he gives you ‘the look.’ you have to use all of your willpower not to smile, woosah-ing yourself into the role of an unsuspecting girlfriend about to be proposed to. you paint a look of surprise on your face when he gets down on one knee, giving you a charming little speech about how he’d “wanted to do this for so, so long” and how he “could never love another the way he loves you, never want to. so please baby, will you marry me?” it’s actually rather romantic, makes you wonder how close it all is to his true feelings for you.
you and satoru hardly ever explicitly talked about marriage, but he did always talk about how he wanted to be with you forever (or rather, that he’d jump off a bridge if you ever broke up with him, but that wasn’t as eloquent.) he’d mention plans of a big house he wanted to put you in, so he could come home to you and your warm embrace every day until he was old and wrinkly beside you. so, maybe not an outright “hey, we’re getting married some day,” but it was most definitely implied.
at the end of satoru’s little scripted scene, he pulls out that same heart-shaped ring box from the table, opening it up to showcase a square cut diamond, one you’re sure must be a piece of costume jewelry for the occasion. you gasp, climbing out of your seat to throw your arms around him with a “yes! yes, i’ll marry you!” he picks you up, standing back up to his full height as he delicately sways you back and forth. you share a kiss, one you let a few secret giggles into, before you part, allowing your boyfriend the pleasure of sliding the ring onto your finger. the patrons of the restaurant that’d been watching the spectacle all clap at what they believe to be a genuine display of affection, including your waiter from his station near the kitchen. it’s a lot of attention, but being with someone that looks like (and acts like, and is) satoru means you’re relatively used to stares and whispers. he gives you one more sloppy smooch before he’s helping you back into your seat, giving a bow of thanks to the other customers before he’s sitting, too.
when the waiter comes back to offer up your grand prize, with eyes dampened from your well-acted performance, satoru keeps it simple and orders a non-nauseating plate of assorted mochi ice cream. and when it comes to the table, he plucks one of the cold, sweet little treats in between his long fingertips and reaches his equally lengthy arm across the table to feed it to you with not a lick of selfishness. fuck the dessert, he’d share the entire moon with you if it was in his possession.
“babe, we fucking killed that. that lady? in the black blouse? she was crying, like, actually crying! i almost feel bad, but that mochi was to die for, so i’d say it was a worthy crime.” you jabber excitedly on your walk back to the car, hand in hand with your stage fiancé. he’s staring down at you as you prattle on, knows he should be watching where he’s going but fuck, you’re so stunning and you go along with his admittedly very childish desires for free sweets and yeah, he really is so whipped, it’s not even funny. he’d never deny it, either—the man who carries multiple pictures of you in his wallet and as his phone background, the man who gives you massages and shares from his candy stash when you’re on your period, the one who can’t get mad at you when you fall asleep on him during a movie he really wanted to see? there’d be an ice-cold day in hell before that man—the only gojo satoru—ever denies being hopelessly, foolishly, irrevocably in love with you.
the second restaurant that you and satoru pull your scheme on is a tad bit more upscale than the first—not to say the first eatery wasn’t upscale, would never be the case with your luxury loving boyfriend—and you absorb your surroundings from your place on the man’s arm while he checks your reservation in with the maître d. for this place, as fancy as it is, you think you’ll tone down the theatrics, keep it a little classier this time around. you don’t want to embarrass yourself or satoru with some overly acted performance that screamed fake. the suited man behind the counter leads you to a table, not smack-dab in the middle of the dining area but not very secluded either, something perfect for the exhibition you were going to put on.
“you know, you’re setting me up for some very high expectations, ‘toru,” you speak from behind your wine glass, eyes on what would be his if it weren’t for the glasses he still wears. he looks up from his menu, head tilted inquisitively.
“is that so?”
“mhm. that ring you got looks nice, but you’ve spoiled me. i’m gonna need one way bigger now. and,” you pause, taking another swig from your glass, “you’ll have to really surprise me. i mean, this restaurant is really nice, but if you keep this up, we’re gonna run out of fancy restaurants for you to actually propose to me in. there’re only so many, y’know.” your tone is coated in sarcasm, but satoru doesn’t laugh. instead, he smirks, closing his menu and placing it to the side.
“don’t worry your pretty little head about that, sweet girl. you’ll be very surprised when it happens.”
the meal is delicious, as expected, and your plates are cleared soon after. satoru’s laughing at a story you have about your neighbor’s adorable little kitty cat that keeps trying to sneak into your apartment while he pours you another glass of an unnecessarily expensive wine he insisted on.
“are you ready?” he asks when you finish, and you give him a short nod, quick to prepare yourself again for the false astonishment you have to give and the onslaught of eyes that were soon to be on the two of you.
he reaches across the table to take your left hand in his, eyes peering up at you over his glasses when he leans down to press his lips against your ring finger.
“i love you,” he murmurs before he’s up and out of his seat. he approaches your side of the table but he doesn’t do his part of getting down on one knee yet, opting instead to cup your cheek with a hold so gentle you’d assume he thought you were made of glass.
“i mean it, i really do love you more than anything in this world.” you don’t have time to respond to the declaration before he’s descending to his knee, taking your hand yet again as he gives you another speech. this one is different than the last, but just as full of genuine love.
“you make my days worth living, baby. you make the sun look like a streetlight in comparison to how much you light up my life. you’re so funny, so smart, so generous, and you put up with the…less than favorable parts of my personality with very minimal complaints.” he says that last part with a little bit of disdain and it has you giggling in a way no one else can bring out of you, despite your slightly glossy eyes. “my perfect girl, will you marry me?”
and there it is, the ring box you’d been waiting to see since you stepped into this establishment full of onlookers. he opens the box and slides the ring onto your finger before he even gets your verbal answer, but it doesn’t matter because you’re nodding and smiling like a damn idiot, as if it’s real. you try not to dwell on that thought for long.
“of course i’ll marry you, satoru.” he carefully pulls you up out of your chair and cups your face again, this time with both hands, lips against yours in a kiss much more serious than the last time you did this. there’s more applause following suit, but you can’t pay attention to anyone but satoru, who’s kissing you so deeply that the restaurant could be burning to a crisp and you would be none the wiser. when you part, he’s grinning, a little bit from the wine buzz and a lot from the adrenaline of proposing to his gorgeous girlfriend, staged as it was.
your waitress is quick to congratulate you both, and when she mentions the one thing that satoru came here for—that goddamned free dessert—he lets you choose. but you’re so generous, his sweet little sweetheart, just like he said in his speech, and you pick something sugar-stuffed, and chocolate drizzled, and so fucking satoru that it makes your teeth ache. you’re always, always, thinking about him, and he loves you all the more for it.
when you get to the last restaurant/soon-to-be victim of theft of services, you’re feeling very practiced in the art of deception. the tears you were able to evoke out of the unknowing guests, and the ones satoru almost pulled out of you had you unwaveringly confident in both your own and satoru’s level of skill as thespians this time around.
this place is a far cry from the previous two and you can tell before you even step foot inside, the architectural marvel of a building radiating the energy of one of those “sorry, we’re booked 3 years in advance” kind of places. you have no doubt that satoru could get in anywhere if he wanted to, though- the man was quick to offer bribes well into the range of some people’s entire salaries. if he wanted something, he was unrelenting, tenacious even—traits you admired greatly about him.
the moment you step inside, you start to feel a little swell of anxiety. this was..intense. the lighting was much more moody, with floor to ceiling windows giving the diners a view of a beautiful garden, lush with greenery. you and satoru had dined well before, but this was something entirely different. he leads you to the reception desk where another maître d, not dissimilar to the one before, greets you with an air of extreme professionalism. satoru gives the man his name, and you’re left a little confused when his eyes widen in what you think is surprise. he gives your boyfriend a quick nod before he dashes off, and you try not to focus too much on how expensive this place must be or why satoru would come here of all places for a free dessert, but it’s hard not to. the wall behind the reception desk is practically covered in plaques of awards, the words “michelin star” and “winner of..” plastered on most of them. you know those aren’t easily earned, so you try to think less about the exorbitant cost you know your boyfriend is paying, instead doing your best to enjoy this probably once-in-a-lifetime dining experience.
the man from before returns, with another more sharply dressed man, who grins wide when he sees satoru and yourself. he shakes your man’s hand firmly, giving a nod of his head in the direction of the dining area. the restaurant is gorgeous, past that really, but a little under-populated for satoru’s plan to have it’s most effectiveness. besides, what’s the point of a fake proposal if no one is gonna see it?
you mention your previous thoughts to satoru once you’re seated, but he just gives you a smile and says “don’t worry about anything other than enjoying yourself.”
so you don’t. you reminisce on funny, and sometimes embarrassing stories about your past with satoru—sharing laughter, and food you can’t fucking pronounce, and glasses of ridiculously high-priced alcohol.
“you’re the most wonderful woman in the world, angel,” he muses some time down the line, “thank you. i don’t fucking deserve you.” his words have you putting your glass down, reaching across the table to mirror his earlier actions by taking his hand, with your face set into a frown.
“i don’t like it when you say things like that, satoru. you do deserve me..because i say you do. you’re not- you’re not hard to love, satoru; it’s actually very, very easy. and i love loving you, and i’m gonna keep doing it every fucking day that you’ll have me. okay? so none of that,” you say, squeezing his much larger hand in your own.
“what if i wanted to have you forever?” he asks, eyes still hidden behind those increasingly unnecessary glasses. the restaurant is far more dimly lit than the first two, but the urge to complain comes only from how much you miss looking into those dazzling blue pools.
“well, i’d give you forever and then some. you’re not getting rid of me, ‘toru,” you grin, taking the stem of your glass between the fingers of your free hand and lifting it to your lips. satoru follows the movement behind his shades, watches how the delicate line of your throat bobs with your swallowing with a sort of reverie that is usually described in religious texts. he’d pray for you, pray to you, anything. he’d learn how to sculpt just so your beauty could be immortalized for all of eternity.
satoru says your name and you hum, quick to swallow down the rest of your sake before giving him a sweet smile with your eyebrows raised.
“i hope you meant what you said—about forever.” you’re about to ask him what his foreboding words mean but you’re interrupted by none other than satoru himself, rising from his seat for the third and final time this evening to bring himself down to one knee. you’re about to laugh and quietly chide him for not giving you time to prepare for the show when you hear the sound of a piano, looking over your shoulder to see a man sitting at the once unmanned instrument. you turn further still and see that all of the staff has crowded around the edges of the room, all holding intricately crafted bouquets of..dark red carnations and burgundy roses, much like the one he’d given you, both granting you space but still wanting to watch the grand gesture that your boyfriend prepared.
“satoru, what’s….did you call ahead or something? this is…kind of a lot for a dessert i could make you at home..” he smiles and shakes his head at your endearing ignorance to the situation, reaching up to pull his glasses off for the first time all night. those eyes that you missed so much, they were rimmed with a faint redness. you couldn’t help but act on your instincts, reaching out to cup his face in your careful—caring—hands. you don’t get the chance to ask him what has him tearing up so much before he starts, a speech entirely new leaving his lips.
“if you think that loving me is easy, then loving you is child’s play. loving you is…one of the greatest gifts that i have ever or could ever be granted. you don’t always see it, and i like it that way, but sometimes—a lot of times—i look at you like you created the heavens and the earth. you are the heavens and the earth to me. you’re everything to me. your laugh alone could cure me of any ails. i don’t know what i did to make such a beautiful, loving, gentle, smart, hilarious, talented woman fall in love with my stupid ass, but fuck, baby, i thank the universe every day for you. you give me purpose. you give me strength. you give me the want to continue, when it feels like there’s no fight left in me.”
your eyes shimmer with unshed tears, lips parted in genuine shock that you hadn’t expected to feel tonight. you spare another glance at the staff before bringing your gaze back to satoru, voice caught in your throat and tongue heavy in your mouth.
“satoru, if- if you’re playing with me..if you’re doing this for your damn dessert, i-“
“no, baby, this- this is real. you are…the most exceptional person i know. you love me in a way that i didn’t know was possible before you came into my life. i’m so goddamn unworthy of you, but you chose me, and i swear, that for the rest of my life—the rest of our life—i’ll never let you down. please, angel. please make me the most blessed man on the planet and marry me?”
satoru reaches into the pocket of his suit pants as you stare in amazement, mascara tears fully running down your cheeks now. the ring box in his grasp is much different than the one from your faux-engagements—it’s black, shaped like an oval with silver ornamental designs around the perimeter. and when he opens it, your lip begins to quiver.
the ring is something so uniquely satoru, a thin silver band that splits into multiple vine-like channels, with little diamonds attached for the appearance of flowers. they meet at the top where the stone resides, and fuck, it’s big. it’s aquamarine, with several little prongs holding it’s marquise shape in place. it must’ve cost a fortune, and you can’t help but marvel at it as satoru takes your hand in his own again, lips against your ring finger one last time before he’s slipping the delicate piece of jewelry onto your finger.
“i need you to say it, angel. say you’ll marry me,” he pleads, blue eyes shining in the dimly lit space. you can’t hold back the sob that leaves you, nodding vigorously as you caress his face.
“yes, ‘toru, i’ll marry you.” you say through the tears, pressing your salt-covered lips to his. there’s applause behind you, just like the other “engagements,” but this time, you don’t need them there. you’d have said yes to him if it was 3 in the morning and you were half asleep, you’d have said it in the car on the way to the grocery store. you’d say yes to him anywhere, at any time.
true to satoru’s word, he doesn’t bother with the free dessert this time around. he’s too busy thinking about going home and getting a taste of his fiancée to bother with some fancy piece of cake. and he almost doesn’t make it home, pressing you up against the car with his right hand on the side of your face and the other on your waist. he kisses you so voraciously, like if he tried just that much harder, he could swallow you whole.
“satoru, stop!” you giggle against his ravenous mouth, “a public indecency charge wouldn’t be a great start to our engagement, you think?”
“i can’t help it. my fiancée just looks so good, i don’t think anybody’d blame me if i hiked your dress up right here,” he says, leaning his head down onto your shoulder to leave a kiss or two on the bare skin. you gently push him away, coy look in your eyes when you meet his own.
“at home, the dress comes all the way off.”
satoru has you both in the car with the keys in the ignition and the gearshift in ‘drive’ within 14 seconds.
the front door to your apartment is solid wood, and it’s cold against your back where satoru has, yet again, found a surface to press you up against. you barely made it three steps inside before he was on you, groping and squeezing anything his reach would allow. his lips are sweet where they meet yours, kinda like how they always are, from all the desserts and wines he’d indulged himself in. and somewhere in there, a taste that’s wholly satoru resides. it’s your favorite flavor. his tongue never asks permission to enter your mouth—it just does, licking up every bit of you that’s on offer, and it never satisfies his appetite.
“what was that you said earlier, baby? you want me to eat you, right?” he says between his desperate kisses and fuck, when did everything get so hot all of a sudden? the hand you have on his shoulder slinks up, coming to find its place in the short hairs of his undercut, and when you scrape your nails against his scalp he sighs into your mouth.
“you’re not too full from your desserts?” you tease breathily but it cuts into a gasp of surprise when he yanks your dress up and shoves his hand under the bunched fabric to rip your panties off, only to find your bare skin at his fingertips.
“oh, fuck- no panties, baby? y’want me ta eat that pretty pussy this bad?” he doesn’t wait for an answer, snatching your lips up in a quick, biting kiss that leaves you dizzy. he drops to his knees—funny how much he’s done that today—and lifts your dress further, gathering the material up at your waist. the way satoru marvels at your pussy is something he’d always done but fuck, can you blame him? you get so wet and you taste like the world’s rarest delicacy on his tongue and you’re so fucking warm and tight when he digs you out—he’d sing hymns about your pussy from the top of a mountain.
“my pretty fiancée givin’ me such easy access…such a sweet girl you are,” he praises with a kiss to your mound, “so fucking good t’me.” but he’s just as good to you—especially now, as he spreads your thighs and hikes one of your legs over his shoulder, unhesitatingly dipping his tongue in between your soaking wet folds. the contact of the slippery muscle on your sensitive flesh has you mewling, eyes slipping shut as he feasts on you. his mouth is as slick as it is when he’s talking, stroking his tongue up and down from your clit to your hole, and back again.
“fffuck- satoru..” you whimper, subconsciously grinding your hips into his face. he doesn’t mind, though- actually he encourages it; he loves it when you use him for your pleasure, makes him feel good to make you feel good. and that rings especially true now, as he stiffens his tongue and slides it into your aching hole that’s been clenching around nothing this entire time. he fucks you with it, much like he does with his cock- giving you a mix of slow and fast thrusts and keeping you on your toes. his large hands smooth up your thighs before one sneaks away to aid in him pulling you apart. his thumb finds your clit, massaging the little button in circles and you almost lose your balance, your hand flying out to grip onto his snow-like hair. your little mewls act as encouragement for the man between your legs; he’s studied you—your body—for years, and how each little flick and roll and curl of his tongue or fingers brings you closer and closer to cumming all over him. and he uses that knowledge so freely, long tongue prodding and pressing further and further into you, tip of the muscle kissing your g-spot.
satoru knows you, knows that when your thighs shake and your breathing turns to panting, he’s got you right where he wants you. you confirm that for him, when you look down at him to see those sparkling blue eyes staring back up at you and you moan “god, fuck- ‘toru, please baby, don’t stop, gonna cum f’you.” he’s ever so obedient, thumb moving in faster circles around your clit and his unrelenting tongue fucking into you just as quick. he keeps his gaze glued to your face because you look so goddamn pretty when you cum that he can’t bear to miss it. and he doesn’t, watching lustfully as your head sinks back against the door, hips stuttering as he licks the orgasm right out of you.
“out of all the meals i’ve had tonight,” satoru starts, lips shiny with your release when you open your eyes again, “you’re the most delicious.” you’d laugh at how corny he is, but your mind still hasn’t come fully back to you yet. satoru rises back to his normal stature of towering over you, even in your heels, and he can’t help but to dip his head down and kiss you. all those same flavors from before are muted behind the taste of you, and you almost hate to admit it, but you like that a lot.
“i need to be inside of you, baby,” satoru sighs into the kiss, leaning down to wrap his big hands around your outer thighs, and you get the idea quickly, letting him pick you up so you can wrap your legs around his hips. he carries you off to the bedroom, laying you down on the plush comforter that covers your bed. you sit back on your elbows and toe your heels off, eyes following his movements as he takes off his blazer.
“god, you look-“
“fuckable?”
“very.”
“so, what are you waiting for? fuck me, fiancé.”
he takes your invitation with fire in his eyes, moving in close to undo whatever horrid contraptions are keeping you clothed. when he gets the zipper down, he’s practically ripping you out of the dress, tossing the expensive garment off somewhere behind him. he’s pulling his own clothes off just as quickly, and when he gets his pants down you can’t help but to feel him through his black boxer briefs. he’s so hard, and he’s leaking like a goddamn faucet, the wet spot you feel near his tip growing larger and larger. he’s groaning against your neck as you touch him, pushing his hips into your palm desperately. but then he decides that he can’t take the teasing and the waiting anymore, so he’s sitting up on his haunches to shove his boxers down his thighs. he doesn’t even get them fully off before he’s grabbing your calf and dragging you towards him, gripping the base of his painfully stiff cock to line it up with your sopping pussy hole.
“ohmy-GOD, fuck- ah! satoru, slow downnnn!!” you gasp, crying out for him as he slams into you with no warning and sets a pace that could rival a jackrabbit.
“s-sorry, baby, jus’ need you- need you so fucking bad, shit- hnnng, fuuuck,” he moans, gripping your hips tight as he keeps hammering into you. you can’t keep your eyes open as much as you’d like to—satoru always looks so angelic when he’s flushed and panting from the vice-like grip your pussy has on him—but it’s okay, because he moans like a bitch in heat when he’s fucking you and that’s all you need. your nails are digging into whatever they can find, one hand twisted up in the blanket and the other pressed against satoru’s flexing abs as if you’re trying to stop him, but you both know that’s not true.
“so. fucking. wet.” he groans, punctuating each word with a hard thrust. he’s so deep inside that you know you’d feel him if you touched your belly, and the thought has tears of pleasure spilling down to your temples and into your hair.
“y-you feel so fucking good- ah- mmm- look so p-pretty taking my cock like this,” he whines, one hand leaving your hip to find your throat. he doesn’t add pressure, doesn’t squeeze, just lets his hand rest there like he needed to ground himself. he finds himself angling his hips just a little differently, and only a moment later, he knows he’s got it when your teary eyes shoot open and you scream his name.
“right there, angel? my fiancée likes it t-there?” he teases, trying his hardest to keep some composure but fuck, it’s so hard when you clench that tight cunt of yours and suck him deeper and deeper.
“yeeessss,” you sob, “please! feels..so good…love you so much, love the way you fuck me..” satoru moans with you, snaking a hand under your lower back to arch you a little more, and the slight change of position has him hitting your g-spot head on with his merciless thrusts. you cum, wordlessly and unexpectedly, and satoru’s eyes widen as he looks down to see the ring of your cream that covers the base of his cock.
“ohhhh f-fuck yeah, angel, cream all over my dick, ‘s all yours, always- always yours,” he gasps.
he brings you fully into his lap and your arms instinctively curl around his neck, your head falling back as he bounces you on his cock that’s impaling you. you’re both covered in sweat now, and your slick, too—it leaks down around satoru’s dick and onto your thighs. the eye contact he makes with you in this moment is hard to look away from, so you don’t—eyes locked with his while you pant and moan and whimper his name. he does the same right back to you, choking out declarations of his love interspersed with your own name.
soon, the position changes again, when you use the little strength you have left to push satoru onto his back with your hands splayed out on his chest. he groans in surprise, sliding his hands up your hips to hold onto your waist. your gaze shifts between his blissed-out face and the sparkling stone that rests on your finger, grinding against him nice and slow.
“does this feel good, satoru?” you don’t mean for the question to come out as seductive as your tone does, but it has his hips bucking up into you nonetheless. his eyes open to find yours and he nods, digging his fingers into your flesh more when you ride him harder, roll your hips a little faster.
“f-fuck, feels like heaven, baby..keep- mmf, keep fucking me like t-that,” he answers, and you’re his sweet girl, his giving little angel, so you do. you keep fucking him just like that, pulling yourself up and dropping back down on the lengthy cock inside of you. your ass smacks against his thighs on the landing, and it joins your ragged breathing and satoru’s huffs as the only sounds in the room. he can’t help but to meet your hips with his own thrusts, not keen on taking the reigns back but adding to the insurmountable pleasure you both feel.
“will you cum with me? please, ‘toru- need to feel you..” god, how could he ever deny you when you ask so sweetly, one hand still on his chest and the other on yours, palming at your tit with a pinch of your pert nipple every now and then. his brow is furrowed—plush lips parted with his moans and he’s nodding in response again.
“yeah, baby, yeah- ‘m so fucking- hah- c-close.” a look of focus forms in his eyes when one of his hands slips down from your waist, nimble fingers toying with your sensitive clit. your moans rise in pitch and volume, heart pounding in your chest as you get closer and closer to the edge. you can practically feel him pulsing inside of you, know he’s almost there too, and you ride with more determination, tits bouncing with the effort. he looks so desperate from his position beneath you, desperate to cum, desperate to fill you to the brim with his hot load. you’re left gasping, shouts of his name torn right from your throat when he plants his feet into the mattress and starts to thrust up into you, fingers still pinching and pulling at your engorged nub. he fucks into you so roughly, eyes shifting between the spot where you conjoin, watching raptly as his cock slides in and out of your hole, and your sweet face, mouth hung open and tear streaks on your cheeks. both are a pretty sight to him.
“‘m gonna cum, ‘toru- cum for me, too, need it inside me so fucking bad,” you whimper, and you weren’t lying. only a few more thrusts and some circles rubbed onto your clit and you’re crying his name, creaming all over his cock again. and satoru can’t hold off anymore, doesn’t want to, and the way you clench and squeeze him makes that an impossible feat anyway. he stills his hips the best he can but they still stutter with the intensity of his orgasm, letting out rope after rope after rope of his sticky fluid inside of your needy little hole.
you roll off of him when you get the strength to do it, still panting with the exertion. but satoru is clingy, even more so after sex; so with your eyes closed, you don’t see it, but rather feel the man’s hands tugging you close. he drapes his sweat-sticky body around yours, nuzzling his face into your neck where he leaves a few cheeky kisses.
“thank you.” it’s silent for a while before he speaks, and the words have you cracking your eyes open to look at him. he’s already beaten you to the punch, wide blue eyes looking up at you.
“for what?” you respond, bringing your hand up to smooth his hair down. he practically purrs at the sensation, but he answers you regardless.
“for saying yes to me, to forever.”
the snort that comes out of you is unintentional, but you can’t help it. he sounds silly thanking you for that, so you tell him as much.
“satoru, you make it sound like you had to bribe me into being with you when you say things like that. y’know, i meant what i said, about you being stuck with me. couldn’t get rid of me if you tried, baby. this just makes it..more official.”
“guess that’s true, huh?”
“you’re damn right. and when we get married, i’m going to use my new powers for evil.”
“what??”
“oh, yeah. i’m gonna terrorize everyone. pranks galore. and i’ll tell them gojo did it. and they’ll just assume it was mr. gojo, not the kind and sweet mrs. gojo.”
satoru’s jaw drops, sitting up to gape at you. you just shrug in response, smiling innocently at your soon to be husband. he shakes his head, deep in thought for a moment before he grins, eyes hard set on you.
“what?” you ask, playfully narrowing your own eyes.
“i think i want to marry you tomorrow.”
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>authors_note: WELL. it’s finally here (took me long enough i knowwwww🤫) ENDLESS THANKS FOR 100 (we’re almost at 200 now but let’s cross that bridge when we get there heheh)
>next up: firefighter!satosugu (after like 3 months of me talking about it IM SORRYYY)
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>thank you for reading ♡︎
>masterlist.exe
>send a request here!
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© loko4koko 2024
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pinkmirth · 4 months
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⸻ 𝑃ℛℰ𝒮ℰℛ𝒱ℰ!
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𝒮𝒴𝒩𝒪𝒫𝒮ℐ𝒮 ౨ৎ ₊ ⊹ the belmont family has endured for centuries, and it’s now up to richter to keep it going strong. there’s only one way to ensure the expansion of his bloodline, and it’s simple; knocking you up.
𝒞𝒪𝒩𝒯𝒜ℐ𝒩𝒮 ౨ৎ ₊ ⊹ ( 6k+ words of . . . ) richter belmont x fem!reader, canon-divergent, set in the 18th century (1700s), nsfw/smut, porn with very little plot, established relationship, size difference, nipple play, handjob, panty-ripping, p-in-v, heavy breeding kink, many mentions of pregnancy, missionary, tummy bulge, lotus position, creampies, richie’s a bit cocky (when is he not!), use of pet names (e.g. darling, love, good girl, rich, richie . . .), richter calls reader a ‘ cockslut ’ once, explicit language, lowercase intended, black coded, minors shoo!
𝑀𝒴 𝐿𝒪𝒱ℰ-𝒩𝒪𝒯ℰ! ౨ৎ ₊ ⊹ after binging castlevania (nocturne), i instantly fell for that gorgeous man richter & his baby blue eyes ><  he’s got a sharp mouth, a pretty face, and nice biceps– of course i’m in love with him! i just had to whip up somethin’ for my favorite belmont (dunno why, but i heavily believe their clan is crazy about breeding hmm) this was supposed to be an itty bitty drabble, but it ended up much longer than i thought it’d be . . . and might i warn you that this is mostly just sappy, nasty filth. now, please enjoy this smutty piece of work for richie! ❤︎
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richter has made the renard household your favorite place on earth. more specifically, you’re fond of his homey bedroom. it’s got this olde charm to it, and a wide glass window with french-pinewood framing; one that offers a pleasant view of the grassy fields and neighboring stream that surround the cottage. 
over anything else, his bed is surely the best part of it all. there’s a fluffy duvet in that dusty-blue color he likes, one so large that it covers his long legs even when they tangle between yours. the quilted mattress has just the right amount of space for two lovers, and is comfy enough to keep you warm throughout the night, considering the chance you might stay over. 
though, there is a downside, as nothing can be perfect— it creaks far too much when he fucks you. 
it’s not often that the both of you can make good use of that bed of his, especially when the noise makes things terribly obvious. you wouldn’t dare attempt anything improper in richter’s room with his adoptive family just a brief set of steps away. 
there's a time for everything, but not that he cares. you try paying no mind to richter’s lingering touches along your waist, and how he mischievously dives underneath your bottoms to grab at the fat of your ass with a wicked grin; all as his aunt tera boils porridge and beans by the stovetop downstairs. you’re sure he finds joy in the risk, or more in provoking you. 
it’s only when the house is empty, apart from you and richter and nothing else, that you can have your fun. like now, for instance. it’s out of pure luck that tera decided to pay a visit to the farmer’s market, and for maria to tag along with her mother as well. they mentioned something about wanting to buy the best of what the early-autumn harvest had to offer, with the meats being juiciest and the produce fresher than it’s been all year. 
you believe that’s why richter’s got so much stamina— the plenty of food he’s been scarfing down lately. or, possibly, it could just be him . . . nothing but him, and his unexplainable belmont genes that make him fucking superhuman. he swears he’s normal, but the way he picks you up with such ease as soon as his family steps out the door can only be deemed as unnatural. 
he's quick to sweep you off your feet, in the most abrupt way he can, of course. richter grins over the way you squeal as he whisks you past the kitchen, ‘round the table, and down the corridor. his hands work at keeping you upright, palms firmly planted under your thighs. he carries your weight like that of a feather and doesn't break a sweat. but considering where he’s headed, straight to his bedroom, that’ll soon change. 
“don’t go getting all surprised on me,” richter voices a lighthearted whisper. he kisses the part of your neck that he can manage to reach from above the collar of your blouse, “you know what we do once we have the place to ourselves.” 
“you snatched me off the ground without notice, i’ve all the right to be surprised— ohmygod, richter!” you sputter out a laugh, with his mouth on your flesh being so ticklish. you can feel his lips curving upwards, taking the shape of a smile. your arms fling around the back of his neck like second nature, fingers carding through his fluffy brunette hair. with zero patience, as always, richter kicks the door in with the shallow heel of his leather thigh-boot, slips into the room with you still in his arms, and shuts it closed by pressing you up against it. 
he was right about one thing— once tera and maria leave, this is exactly how it goes. clothes are torn off with haste (mostly on richter’s end, as you could imagine), heated kisses are exchanged, and he spits the nastiest words with that sharp mouth of his in order  to get you all worked up. the night sky and moonshine from the window gives his room this subtle tone of blue, but he makes you feel red-hot. 
richter keeps you right where he wants you; held up by his unfiltered strength, with your back to the door. one moment, he’s drawing closer to you, raking over every detail of your face with nothing but admiration swirling in his eyes. by the next, his lips are moving languidly against yours, slightly unruly yet undeniably passionate. you wouldn’t dare admit how much of a damn good kisser he is. the man’s ego would fucking skyrocket.
though, you really don’t have to tell him anything. the way you reciprocate his affection says it all. he breaks away for a sparing moment, but not before bringing his tongue across your bottom lip in one playful swipe. it’s light, teasing, and completely of his nature.
“i can see it in your eyes, y’know.” richter chuckles at how you lean forward to chase after the warmth of his lips again. he brings you to your feet so he can slip off his fingerless gloves and undo any harnesses. he then crouches a bit to unzip his boots. 
“see what?” you airily huff, haphazardly undoing button by button on your blouse until it’s completely open. similarly, he begins to make quick work of his top. you enjoy the flexure of his biceps as he pulls them out from the sleeves of his cerulean blue blazer-vest that he drops once free of, allowing it to scatter to the ground. you catch onto its emblem; the belmont crest, neatly embroidered upon the breast-pocket. 
“how much you want this,” richter peers down at you, eyes gleaming the prettiest tint of blue. “it’s cute, how obvious you are.” his upper half is bare, and the smooth canvas of his chest is all can focus on while he closes in on you. you’re trapped between the sturdy door and his heated body, and you wouldn’t rather be anywhere else. 
“you’re practically salivating over the thought of getting fucked, yeah? bet you wouldn’t mind if i took you right here.” he grins as he says it, staring unashamedly at how cleavage pools from your brassiere. richter creeps a finger underneath the strap, tugs it down and does the same with the other, dipping his head low to pepper your bare shoulder with feather-light pecks. before long, the bra’s at your feet. 
“hm, but you’re no different,” you manage out, reveling in the warm lashing of his tongue against your nipple. it buds up the more he suckles at it.
“really, now?” he eventually parts from your breasts and rises back up to his full imposing height, carrying that faint smirk he forever wears. he looks so adorable this way— cheeks pink, lips spit-streaked. richter takes hold of your bottoms from either side of you, and swiftly brings them down with what you could only call pure impatience. 
“yes, really. you’re just as desperate,” you counter him, reaching low to prove it. your palm grazes his bulge, and you give a few thorough squeezes; the kind that makes his mouth drop open. 
“look at you, almost bursting out of your pants,” you quietly giggle, gazing up at him through the wisps of your lashes. richter wonders how you make such light fun while using your touch to undo him all at once. his breathing quickens, and it gets just a little heavier with your every attempt to caress his throbbing cock through his trousers. “seems like you need it more than i do, doesn’t it?” 
“oh, fuck me . . .” richter whines, settling his head into the slope of your shoulder. your touch leaves him, just for a moment, to rid him of those restrictive pants. his cock springs free from its confines and bobs under its own weight. he’s got more length than girth; a good six or seven in size, with two thick veins running along the underside of him. the faint-pink tip prods at your thigh, staining your skin with precum. 
he bucks against you hungrily, fingertips digging into the seams of your panties. you think you can hear them splintering apart. in the heat of things, he always winds up tearing your good underwear. 
richter could ease into this moment and let your hand work him senseless, but there comes a time where he decides to end the charade. there’s also no knowing when his aunt and sister will return. he wants to make the most out of the unpromised time you have. 
and so, he cuts your fun short with a mere rasp, “i’m through messing around with you. get on the fucking bed.” 
no malice is found in his words; it’s just the height of his lust. you’d do as told, but richter’s already taking action into his own hands. with two, three— no, four steps, he’s standing at the bedside and splaying you across it. he snags off the remaining of your torn panties, left to suggestively decorate his floor. now, in all your naked glory, you’re bare and ready for him. 
richter crawls over to you and kneels from above where you lay, situated closely between your legs. your thighs cushion either side of his lean hips. he leans down occasionally whenever you plead for a kiss, or wish to thread your fingers through his brown tousled hair. it now looks just a bit wilder than usual. 
“c’mon— open, darling.” he hints at your legs, smoothing his warm palms down from your calves to your thighs. ever the compliant girlfriend, you part them nice and wide for his viewing pleasure. your cunt’s glossy and wet, clenching around nothing but the intangible air around. 
‘oh, how pretty,’ he breathlessly murmurs, dragging two fingers across the expanse of your body. down, down, down, until they’re tracing along your slit. your dripping hole puckers against the pads of his index and middle, and you whimper when he threatens to push two inside. 
“this wet, yet i’ve hardly done a thing,” his voice is ever boastful, “are you sure i’m the desperate one?” both fingers are suddenly replaced with his stiff erection, and he uses the precum-stained tip to catch onto your clit, resting warm and heavy against it. to that, you release a little ‘mm,’ and he taps against your puffy bud with the head of his cock— stopping once your hips start bucking for more. 
“god, you just love to torment me . . . ” you huff out, vexation getting the best of you. “torment you? oh, never.” richter taunts, slotting himself between your puffy folds. he steers the way he glides against you by keeping a thumb at the base. “i just like to watch you squirm, is all.” 
you know how to pry what you want out of him; a little bit of begging here, a small ounce of praise there. you lift your hips to grind against the underside of him, emitting soft moans whenever he rubs against your swollen clit just right, “richter, please. i really need your cock . . .”  
“oh, baby,” he bites at his lower lip, giving in just as you expected of him. “i love it when you ask nicely.” in one fluid motion, he fits himself past the fleshy ring of your entrance and slips right inside. noise falls from you both; you’re gasping at the steady push, doing your best to accommodate every given inch, and richter’s letting small groans escape him, fingers digging into the tender flesh of your hips. 
“always so fucking . . . tight,” he emits a shuddered breath, dropping his head to watch himself bottom out deep enough for his balls to nestle snugly against your ass-cheeks. you’re well connected now, to the point where his own pelvis has become sticky with your arousal. chestnut fringes drop into his view, and he sweeps his hair back with one hand threading through it. 
“you’re taking it all so well this time,” he lifts his gaze to meet yours, a subtle grin playing on his lips. “such a good girl for me.” the connection between you two pulsates. he starts to build a delicious rhythm— drawing out for just a second, and pushing back in by the next. he watches you melt beneath him, your eyes sealed shut and mouth agape. a tangly string of moans tumble from your plush lips. richter’s no composer by any means, but the sounds he pulled from you is nothing short of beautiful music. 
he’s without resignation tonight, and you notice his intensity when handling you. those naughty hands of his cup and squeeze and rub, his thrusts are fast, and you're sure that the resounding ‘smack!’ of skin-upon-skin can be heard from outside the window with how loud it’s become.  
richter’s got your wrists bound above your head using the grip of only one firm hand, while he uses the other to keep your leg perched over his broad shoulder. his cock pushes deeper inside whenever he rolls his hips into your own, and your toes curl against the sheets with every stroke. when ramming in, his breath goes shaky at the sight of your body lurching, and pulling out makes his eyes roll back with how hard you’re clamping down on him, practically begging him to stay. 
you’re soon to unravel, and you can tell he is too. his thighs begin to tremble, and his pace is less timely. nearing ecstasy, you already know what richter’s bound to ask you: 
“where do you want me?” 
without fail, he poses the same question by the near end of every session. and each time, you opt for the safe route, even though you secretly wish for more. your answer mostly varies on whatever position he’s got you manhandled in. bashfully, you’ll instruct him to cum over your ass if he has you bent over, or your tits if he’s been ogling them the whole night. sometimes, you’ll even let him decorate your pretty face with his seed— now that drives him mad, so much so that you always go another round or two afterwards. 
but your true desire is, by far, much filthier than the rest. you’re nowhere near daring enough to plainly admit that you want his cum inside of you. as in, womb-filling placement. pregnancy-inducing, even. 
though, something’s come over you tonight. you think richter’s finally ‘fucked you stupid’ the way he always cockily threatens to. or, maybe having him settled within you just feels too good to give up so soon. you don’t want him pulling out this time, you determine. what you need is for him to stay right where he is, to keep you stuffed whole with his warm love. all you want is for him to do it— 
“inside,” is your breathless cry; a risky plea of the very thing he spends lone nights getting himself off to the thought of. richter isn't sure he heard you right— no, it must be a cruel figment of his perverse imagination. a bead of sweat's caught along his raised brow, those blue eyes of his carry a hooded glow, and his face, bearing a cutely furrowed look, grows pinker than before. 
“what?” 
“oh, god,” you whine, face gone hot. “richter, i . . .” the words melt off your tongue and fizzle into nothing. 
“you . . ?” he plays around your hesitance, drawing out the word with some light goading. you sigh rather than responding, and it’s a dramatic one, because does he really have to make you repeat yourself? richter gazes down at you expectantly as he slows his movements, finding purchase on your waist to come to an unsteady pause. his fingers drum along your sides, awaiting more clarity. 
your voice is small when you manage to confess, “ . . . i want you to cum inside of me.”
you think you can see the very moment that he fucking breaks. it’s like his resolve’s a porcelain vase, oh so delicate, and you’ve just pushed it to the floor and cracked it into a million tiny pieces. he releases this low groan, one that makes your pussy flutter at the sound of it. you can feel how rapidly his cock throbs from within you. you’re sure he’s about to paint them white. 
“shit . . . you don’t mean that.” 
“i do, rich. i want this.” 
you blink up at him, pleading with glassy eyes and the very pout that makes his heart throb. god, he wants to kiss you so messily right now. and that he does— closing in to slot his lips against yours, working his tongue down your mouth, and separating with a distinct pop! you moan against richter’s lips as his clutch on your waist intensifies. 
“you’ve gone ahead and finally drove me fucking crazy,” he thickly swallows, “you don’t know what you’ve just done to me, do you?” richter takes hold on both sides of your face, painless but firm. you mumble aloud what sounds like his name. he can’t be sure, as you’re muffled from the way his grasp is making your cheeks puff out. 
“oh, darling, you don’t.” richter seethes, knowing how you like it when he gets a little mean, “because if you did, you’d know that spewing that kind of shit will make me fuck you like a senseless animal,” his toned body is hunched over yours, eliminating any space there once was between you, “that i’d fill up this greedy little cunt until you’re overflowing with my cum,” his octave drops, tone dangerous, “that i wouldn’t be able to stop until we’ve both passed out on this goddamn bed.” 
“mmph, rich . . .” you weakly attempt, whining through your lips that he keeps pursed between his thumb and index that press into the fat of your cheeks. 
“what was that, love? you wanna be stuffed with my cum?” his tone is a mocking one, but you dumbly nod anyway. he mirrors the rocking motion of your head, amused with your desperation, “fuck yeah, you do. can feel you getting wetter at the thought of it.” 
you haven’t got it in you to feed into that typical banter with your boyfriend. you only want him to do just as he said and ‘fill you up.’ you're pawing at his bicep with one hand, and the other one clasps over the wrist of the hand he’s using to squish at your face. ‘want it,’ you start, fingers skimming across his arm, ‘so badly, rich!’ 
“fine, then. you’re such a needy thing,” he gives in, figuring you’ve endured just about enough of his teasing. richter holds himself by the base, and pulls back to trace your gaping hole with his cockhead. 
“you asked for this,” he pants out, “to be fucking bred.” 
just as before, his entrance is a smooth one; even if your grip on him is so taut that he can barely manage to move. you’re moaning again, aimlessly circling your hips in an attempt to match his movement. 
patterns repeat themselves— like richter’s desperation that always manifests itself through harsh rutting. his mind goes blank every time he’s encompassed by your sweet, warm pussy. he aches for it, for you, as though he wasn’t just indulging. he was this close to release just minutes ago. the sensitivity is still there, you notice from how his tip pulses from within you. he’s been holding out on himself, trying to make this count. 
richter dedicates the next several minutes to flipping and folding you into at least two different positions, bodies merging with a zealous haste. as always, the bed creaks and whines with every pivoted motion made upon it. nobody else is here to complain about it, so the noise is ignored rather than worried over. after all, there’s something gratifying about the sex being hard and thorough. 
there’s more fervor behind his loving this time, and it’s because he’s got the end in mind. yes, the finishing is what he anticipates; once he can finally, finally pump you full of all the cum he has to offer. and maybe— no, definitely, he’ll have you knocked up after it’s done.  
the prospect excites him more than it should; giving you a little bright-eyed belmont. richter’s always seen replenishing the sacred bloodline as a responsibility that only he alone holds. the very last one, he is. who else apart from him could return their clan to its original glory? 
a good amount of years ago, as richter can’t bring himself to remember a particular number, his mother would present him with countless tales of their infamous family. how they’d slay monsters of the night with the utmost ease, gifted with holy tools and magic of old passed down throughout the centuries. he wouldn’t like to admit how much it’s gotten to his head; or moreso, how important he sees it to expand the family tree. 
god willing, the pair of you will have babies, lots of babies, and mark the start of a new generation of vampyre slayers. it already helps that he loves to fuck you at any given chance. breeding you had always been lingering at the back of his mind, even back when the pair of you first coupled over ten months back . . . but he never really thought so deeply about it until you confessed your deep desire, and forced him to come to terms with his own. 
“thinkin’ of you pregnant,” he reveals, voice honest and vulnerable, “god, what a beautiful sight. my woman, all round and full with my love . . . ” 
“mm, that sounds— possessive,” you breathe out, body steadily rocking at the pace that richter’s set. you’re cracking your eyes open and sparing him a glance, just to see that he’s already staring back down at you. like you’re his everything, it seems. that twinkle in his eye is reserved for you only, and it makes you throb with want. 
“oh, i’m sure it does.” he doesn’t bring himself to deny it. he wants you marked by him in every possible way. for anyone to take a glance at your rounding belly months from now and just know that he touched you thoroughly and fucked you right. 
“but you should understand just how fortunate you are, baby,” he coos, “do you know how many bitches would kill for this seed you’re getting tonight? hm?” richter drones on, “you even sure you deserve it?” 
he knows full well that you do. if there’s any woman on god’s green earth that he wants to give all his love to, it’s indisputably you. he’s simply rousing you up, making you ‘earn’ it. the man likes to tease, and you can’t help but enjoy being on the receiving end. 
“well . . . you’re planning to give it to me, aren’t you?” even with him wrecking you, body sore and hair disarray, you're still able to check him. “i am,” he sighs, “and you’re gonna feel it all the way in here,” a large palm of his splays across your abdomen. from over your tummy, he feels the outline of his own cock, pressing in and sliding out before ramming it’s way back in again, courtesy of his rolling hips. 
it spurs him on to see that he doubles you in size, so much so that his dick leaves a bulge. richter bets that he’s stretching out your cunt in the nicest way— just look at how you’re taking it with hazy eyes and quivering legs. no wonder you want his cum so badly; because who else throughout all of goddamn machecoul could give you such good orgasms? which other man could possibly fill you up with such valuable seed? 
“i swear, m’gonna give you a baby,” is richter’s shaky promise, moaning throughout, and his cock throbs twice in a row. he’ll make you a carrier of the next generation of belmonts, he swears it. and oh, is he sure you’ll be an amazing mother. the thought makes his head buzz. he vividly pictures you, tender and swollen in the tummy and breasts, waddling around cutely due to carrying his very own child. he could cum just by thinking about it too hard . . . 
and he does.
“oh, god, i’m gonna— oh, fuck!” his balls constrict, his pelvis becomes tightly-strung, and before he knows it, he’s emptying his thick load inside of you. 
“yes, rich . . . give it to me,” you softly purr, allowing him to ease his weight onto you as he shudders from the high and his limbs go weak. from where he has his face smushed against your cushiony chest, he bites at your left breast while cumming some more. it spurts out in hot streams, accompanied by the twitching of his sensitive dick. he lazily humps against you, and a bit of semen seeps past your cunt, trickles down the length of him, and pours out onto the sheets beneath. you knew it’d be satiating to be filled to the brim. 
he feels like he could fall asleep right here atop of you. even with his head’s swimming in a thick cloud of lust, and though the aftermath of his climax lingers, he’s still able to deliver slow rubs to your little bud.
“hope you’re ready for another,” he reaches down between you and swiping his graceful fingers across it, “because we aren’t fucking done yet.”
you hardly get a chance to bask in how nicely he’s loaded your womb, or the delightful tingle he brings when playing with your clit. richter, always a step ahead, uses his small bit of remaining energy to sit upwards with his back to the bedpost, and hauls you onto him so that you’re straddled over him just the way he likes. he gets the best view of your jiggling boobs this way.
“of course you still have it in you,” you lightly laugh. given his endurance, richter’s usually able to maximize his stamina through plenty of rounds. “i also wouldn’t mind being filled a second time . . .” you set your forehead to rest against his, bringing up a hand to swipe hair away from his gorgeous face eyes, “i liked it.”
“and i loved it,” he’s quick to admit, “should’ve been finishing inside you long before now.”
you smile over his comment and wiggle your ass over his semi hard-on, growing stiffer with every sway of your breasts in his face. his hands are busy holding you from either side, so you go out of your way to stroke along his cum-dirtied cock, white dripping alongside it. he groans at your touch as you help him in finding your entrance. your mouth falls open when sinking down on him, and he rushes to lick and suck at your lips. for the third time tonight, he makes himself at home in your inviting cunt. 
and so, it begins again; his ceaseless tempo. your partner's grasp is hot and strong, pulling you off and slamming you back down onto him however he pleases. you cry out for more, and he’s capable of giving it to you, so he does. richter pistons up into you— out, in, out, in, molding you to shape the very curve of his veined cock. blush colored a fiery pink scatters his face from the apples of his cheeks to the tips of his ears. 
“again, richter,” you gasp out, “cum inside me again . . !” oh, just look at that. now he’s built you a rotten little addiction. from here on out, you’ll probably always be left craving the fulfillment gained from him dumping his load into your pussy. personally, he doesn’t mind sating you. if it eases your mind and satisfies your heart, of course. after all, he’s surely developed a new kink of his own after tonight.  
“oh, you’d want that, wouldn’t you, cockslut?” his fingers dip between your bodies to slide against your clit once more, “to let me impregnate you again, and again, and again . . .” he punctuates his sharp words with the lurch of his sturdy hips, knocking up into you until you’re jolting in his lap, breasts bouncing against his solid chest. 
he doesn’t mean to come across in an offish way, or sound so mean. it’s just that when he gets like this, with your warm body so pliant at his fingertips, his mouth just tends to . . . run. more than usual, he supposes. the belmont just says whatever comes to mind, no matter how vulgar. 
richter’s bright blue eyes follow the motion of your tits with every thrust. he slams in, hips pressed to you as close as it can get. he’s burrowed into you so deeply that his curly patch of dark pubes friction against your bundle of nerves. he’s twitching at the underside for every time your velvety walls suck him in further. you’re trying to milk him fucking dry, he believes. 
there’s only so much stimulation that the pair of you can take in one night alone. 
‘goddammit’ he grits out. before long, richter’s fucking you full of another stream of cum. his orgasm, hot and blinding, triggers your own; you’re creaming all over him, wetting his cock with the juices you squirt out. you’re sobbing out his name and shaking in his lap, so he holds you. a secure hand of his comes up and cradles your head to his chest, stroking your hair and calming your spent body, even as the orgasmic waves rush through you. 
a silence comes over his quaint little room, where the ambience was once intense with the steamy air of sex. a chill autumn breeze blows its way through the cracked-open window, cooling your sweat-sheen skin. his dusty-blue sheets are stained with all kinds of suggestive white fluids, and the bed has stopped making all that noise. 
you’re still placed over his thighs in the same straddling stance, one you both feel much too tired to get out of. he tries at maneuvering so he can lie on his back, with you motionlessly laid over him. your breathing is soft and winded, but your heart’s beating fast. he can feel it, with the way your chest is pressed to his own in this position. 
richter eventually slips out, and you whine once he leaves you. he peers down and groans at the spillage of his potent cum, pearly and warm, dripping from your messy little cunt in thick globs. ‘christ,’ he thinks, ‘it’s so fucking much.’  
he presses a kiss to your forehead, and it stirs you from the sleep you were just about to fall into. “what do you say to me, darling?” 
“hmm . . what?” after all those rounds, you’re not here mentally, and he knows it— he’s why. but with the light smirk his lips hold, you’re finally able to get it. he’s waiting for a: 
“t—thank you,” you murmur out, and he tsks.
“oh, c’mon, be specific. thank you for what?” 
he's simply insufferable. oh, but you love the man, so you'll let him have his way, just for tonight.
“thank you for . . giving me your cum, richter . . .”
he hums in what appears to be satisfaction. it sounds like the prettiest set of words when falling from your lips. he’d fuck you again if the both of you weren’t completely spent. 
richter brings a hand to support the back of his head, propping it up a little higher than the pillows can. you snuggle into him, face nuzzling against the firm comfort of his chest, and he throws his arm over your waist, feeling at the plush skin there with a wandering touch. 
his palm slides a bit further down, now planted gently against your stomach. it’ll start to grow in a little while, and get real big and plump with your baby fostering inside. maybe they’ll have your nose and complexion, with his eyes and attitude . . . he lets a grin overtake his lips, feeling more than accomplished. 
“you’re a lucky fucking woman,” richter coos, hand lovingly rubbing over your tummy, “you’re gonna be carryin’ belmont blood now.”
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tags go out to . . . ౨ৎ ₊ ⊹ @blushfwul @springmarcheson @missmagicalprincess @kaennih-skitlles @divin3bloodlines! hope y’all enjoyed, mwuah! ❤︎
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©𝑃ℐ𝒩𝒦ℳℐℛ𝒯ℋ! — all rights reserved! do not steal, plagiarize or repost any of my works. please and thank you! ౨ৎ
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imaginesmai · 3 months
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I missed you - Azriel
This is smut, set in the baker!reader universe. If you want a timeline, it happens before Taken for reasons you'll find out at the end of this fic. You can read it without the previous parts, don't worry.
Plot: Azriel has been away for a month and comes back to a busy, cozy morning.
Warnings: porn with a tinny bitty plot, barely there.
“I missed you”
Even though his voice sounded far away, you knew Azriel was right behind you, his chest pressed tightly against your back. You felt the echoes of his question right where his throat touched your shoulder and neck. Where, in your humble opinion, he belonged.
He had been away for a little longer than a month, and it had been the longer you had been apart. He had arrived to your shared home two days ago, and you had only left the bed for the bare minimum necessary.
You doubted you’d be able to leave the bed in another two days.
“Me too” you answered back, your voice groggy with sleep.
“Thought about you every single day” his lips, swollen from your previous activities, followed the path of your pulse point. “Every hour”
You hummed for an answer, not actually registering his words. Only the feeling of his body curved around you. You were both naked, had been since he came back, but you weren’t ready to face the rest of the world yet.
And Azriel wasn’t either. The sheets moved around you as he pressed himself closer, tighter, and you noticed his intention before he was finished. The hand that was rubbing lazy circles over your belly lowered, his pinky finger adding a soft pressure over your clit.
You barely contained your moan when he pushed you farther against him, his cock slipping between your legs and rubbing itself where you needed him. You had discovered long ago the truth behind the wingspan theory, and blissfully, you cherished it again. Azriel lowered his hand until he could touch himself and tease you at the same time.
“Move” you demanded, trying to roll you hips. All sleep left you as his arousal hit your senses, as you felt him harden between your legs.
“So demanding. Maybe I don’t want to”
His lips curved against your neck, and you could have fallen right above the edge when his canines grazed your skin. Something about the primal need of being locked together after a month away made your knees weak.
The tip of his cock retreated far enough to press itself against your entrance, only to avoid it once more. The hand that wasn’t holding you against him appeared under your neck, and wrapped his fingers across your throat. Big enough to cover it whole, you breath shuttered when he squeezed.
“Thought about you naked and moaning under me too many times” Azriel confessed, barely moving. The soft friction wasn’t enough but felt like Starfall and fireworks together. “I whished it was you who squeezed my cock dry and not my hand”
“I already did” you reminded him. And you had – repeatedly since he came back. “I’ll have your cum leaking for a while”
“Love that”
His voice was deeper, broken out by a moan. There were few things that turned him on more that knowing he was in you. That his cum tainted your underwear when you left the room, that when not even an hour later he would have a finger inside, his cum had been there.
You had trouble following the pointless conversation when that certain finger entered you. The roughness of his scars had been a sensitive topic at the beginning of your relationship, but soon you had discovered that not many things felt as good as them.
Azriel pressed it to the hilt, applying pressure against your walls.
“Did you touch yourself? While I was gone?” he whispered, one of his shadows kissing your left nipple.
“Thought about me sitting on your cock while you worked, and then you fucking me on your work table” his hand almost cut your air supply, but you managed to continue. “Played with myself right there, and – “
Azriel squeezed your throat hard enough to leave bruises, but you didn’t mind as the finger retreated as his cock replaced it. Each time you took him felt like the first time, no matter how many had come before that one. He pushed it in two thrusts, that left his pubic hair right at your entrance.
Your face was harshly turned to the right and you were met with dark, lusted eyes. There was barely any hazel left, but you loved them anyway. His mouth was parted in a deep moan, and as he bottomed in and out slowly, you were enchanted by the pearls of sweat rolling down his forehead and the sounds leaving his lips.
His perfect, o shaped lips that he ran his tongue through. There was nothing more beautiful that Azriel for you. Him training, sleeping, talking. Smiling, thinking, walking. Anything he did was a piece of art to your eyes, and your favorite part was by far lusted Azriel.
The way his eyes darkened but his expression softened in pleasure and love, only for you. The grip on your throat relaxed enough for you to push yourself up and catch his lips. With your eyes closed, you only felt his hands moving you like a rag doll until you were laying on your back, his cock still inside you and his chest pressed against yours.
“Naughty girl” he whispered against your mouth, his tongue brushing your upper teeth. “Masturbating yourself in my office”
“I bet half of the camp heard you jacking off to my name” you answered, not willing to let a provocation go without a reply. “Like a beast in heat”
You locked your legs behind his calves, and used your now free hands to press him closer to you. The meat of his ass was tender and firm, and you squeezed it hard. Azriel drowned his groan against your lips, and without further invitation, showed you just what a beast he could be.
He pitoned in and out of you with a formidable strength, giving the sun was just coming up and he had stayed up late between your legs. His left hand rose to your breast and cruelly squeezed, capturing your nipple between his thumb and pointy finger.
You threw your head back in the pillow, crying out his name and leaving him access to your neck. His mouth was rough, long gone the sweet love-making of the last day. Your arms held onto his shoulders and sneaky fingers brushed against his wings.
When he almost crumbled against you, his legs giving up and his pace slowing, you smiled proudly to yourself.
“Poor Illyrian bat” you teased him. “No one to touch your wings for so long”
“Like you wouldn’t have killed them”
You didn’t bother answering, knowing it was true. Something as intimate as touching his wings, making him shudder even when he rutted, was yours. Neither of you lasted long after that, only another soft touch from you had him shouting your name roughly against your neck, probably all Velaris hearing him shattering his high.
Just watching him crumple was enough to make you cum, but if that wasn’t enough, one of his shadows, licked a deep stripe from your entrance to your clit, squeezing your button until your legs locked tightly around him and you broke.
After more orgasms than what you could count, you were sure that was the last one in you. Not even biting your lip was enough to stop the sounds leaving your soul, Azriel whispering something in your ear as he held you against his chest with one arm, your back not touching the bed.
The first ray of sun sneaking through the window hit the side of his face when you opened back your eyes. His hair was ruffled, his cheeks pinkish and his eyes bright. So bright and happy that you could look away.
You knew his life hadn’t been easy before you, that his past haunted him when he least expected it. His line of work was hard too, and his eyes had lost the innocence long before you met him. But sometimes, when it was just the two of you, you swore the boy Azriel could have been peaked through.
His smile was more radiant than any sun that could enter the room. You felt your heart warming your whole body at the pure, absolute love that you felt for him.
“I missed you” he repeated.
“Me too. You shouldn’t be allowed to leave for so long”
“Maybe Rhys has something to say about it”
“Maybe we have something to say about it”
Azriel’s hazel eyes traveled down your chest to your belly, where he could already notice the bump. It hadn’t been there when he left, and he had spent a good hour crying about it when he came back.
Laying back on his side, he left his hand over the life that you two had created. Tears quickly appeared in your eyes as you thought about it. You didn’t want to assume the gender, didn’t want to know until the birth. Everything you had gone through, the obstacles and the pain, was worthy when you imagined the life ahead.
It would be the last big mission Azriel went for a while. Rhysand had cancelled everything he had in mind for his shadowsinger when he learned the news, only leaving the inevitable one that he had already finished.
For the next seven months, Azriel would be yours to enjoy. Mornings waiting up to his sleeping face, meals together, and long nights between the sheets. It was enough to let the first tear roll down your cheek.
Azriel caught it quickly with his thumb. He leant down to press a slow kiss to your wobbling lips, his own heart racing.
“I won’t be leaving you ever” he admitted against your lips. “Not even when you want to kick me out for the pregnancy pains”
“Glad we’re agreeing on the culprit” you chuckled.
It was a different type of kiss; one you hadn’t shared with any past lovers. His lips brushed against yours with all the care and love he could muster through the bond, trapping your lower one between his teeth. It wasn’t rough or rushed.
With your eyes closed and your hand over his right above your future babe, you cherished the months to come.
Want to read more? Check out my side blog @imaginesmaimasterlists, where I keep all the masterlists! Feedback is always appreciated
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@lesliemurillo @impossibelle @polli05927 @florencemtrash @going-through-shit @minakay @setayeshmohseni @torchbearerkyle @esposadomd @amysangel @kennedy-brooke @originalcrusadetrash @luvmoo @historygeekqueen @marriedtolike18fictionalmen @wallacewillow0773638 @tothestarsandwhateverend @kristalhi @knmendiola @nikt-wazny-y @dream-alittlebiggerdarling @wallacewillow0773638 @clara-geekhime @kalulakunundrum @saltedcoffeescotch @originalcrusadetrash @mel-wcst @ailyr92 @bubybubsters @chickensrock3 @tothestarsandwhateverend @topaz125 @wallacewillow0773638 @just-m-2 @theravenphoenix26 @glitterypirateduck @a-frog-with-a-laptop @justdreamstars @courtofjurdan
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miscellaneous fellow honest headcanons
These aren't following any prompt in particular, these are just thoughts I had when I saw the guy hammin' it up and then turning on us.
Some of these headcanons are informed by fan art I've seen and discussions I've had with friends, while others are purely me.
Curiouser and Curiouser...
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He calls people “little lads” and “little ladies”.
Fellow has a very noticeable laugh. Like, he grunts and snorts and has tears rolling down his cheeks. (He tends to laugh at others’ misery, thinking of it as “retribution” or “payback” for the injustices he has suffered himself.)
Bro shaves using a knife (yes, he shaves because he is a grown ass man) because razors are hella expensive.
He uses that cheap cologne and cakes it on THICK. This, in his mind, gives off the impression that he’s a well-off and put-together individual you should tooootally trust.
Also the type of person that lays it on thick with his words. If he’s trying to impress a date or something, he’ll shower them with so many compliments it almost seems fake. But no, he’s just the type to simp hard when he happens to be genuine 💀 most of the time he’s faking it though—
He’s very street smart, but in a way where he confuses hostile people by talking over them and acting overly friendly. They usually stuns them long enough for him and Gidel to skedaddle.
If he gets dumped, he'd be the pathetic whimpering boyfriend that begs for his ex to take him back. When they inevitably don't, he mopes all day about it.
He chain smokes and aggressively drinks as a coping mechanism on his bad days 😔 and sometimes he gambles (like, on those scratch-off cards) hoping that he'll strike it rich and buy him and Gidel a better life...
Basically, he generally does not have his shit together but tries his best to pass like someone who does (and usually succeeds at it).
Fellow appears in public wearing his full suit, but at home (ie whatever ratty temporary housing their boss found for them before they move on to the next place) he just wears a T-shirt and lounges around in boxers (and sometimes socks with holes in them).
He uses those disposable eyeshadow wands that snap in half at the slightest bit of too much pressure. Fellow acts like the Claire’s kid makeup he uses is the luxury stuff, but Vil can tell the pigmentation isn’t all there and there’s MAD fallout.
He may be broke AF and have his moments of emotional spiraling, but he has pretty decent budgeting skills. Fellow lives for sales and does extreme couponing to stretch their money as far as it will go.
He invests in other cost-saving methods like wearing shoes until the sole is literally flopping off and just adding water to residual soap in a pump bottle to make the soap "last longer".
Fellow is really good at cutting food (bread, beans) thin to conserve it. Yes, this is a reference to an old Mickey Mouse cartoon—
When he was younger, he had dreams of being an actor (and, more specifically, starring in musicals). That's why he's often humming, swinging around his cane, and/or whistling as he's on the prowl for idiots to sucker—they're remainders of his thespian days before his dreams were crushed into itty bitty pieces.
Man looks like he'd be great at tap dancing.
Before his current gig, he tried a bunch of other scams including a MLM at one point to get by. His signature spell came in pretty clutch in those days too.
Fellow’s not that good at reading or spelling—in fact, he was never a particularly strong student. (“I didn’t fail school!! The schools failed ME!!”) He’s easily frustrated by academics and thinks there should be more hands-on and practical skills taught in learning institutions.
I think it's a given that he and Ruggie would be besties since they both want to eat the rich but I also think Fellow would kiss ass to Azul and then rage about how shitty + entitled Azul is (Azul reminds Fellow of his boss)💀 Scammers hate other scammers because they're both competing to scam the same people--
Even though Fellow is an asshole to most others (well, when he’s not flattering them to lure them into a trap), he’s always nice to Gidel and puts him first. If there’s ever a situation where they’re short on something (clothes, food, etc), Gidel gets priority. This is why Gidel has a full outfit (even if parts are patches or mismatched) whereas Fellow himself has a glove that is so worn out there’s a hole in one of the pinkie fingers.
Fellow may not be blessed with a bounty of magic, but he’s quick on his feet and good with words. Because of these skills, he’s talented at spinning bedtime stories, which he often tells to Gidel to help him fall asleep on nights that are particularly cold and nasty.
Gidel still believes in Santy Claws and wishing upon stars, and Fellow doesn’t have the heart to tell him the truth. He’ll figure it out on his own one day, Fellow thinks. He just doesn’t want to be the one to ruin those childhood joys for him.
Playing pretend is another shared past time of theirs. It helps Fellow get into character before he goes off to swindle people, and it gives Gidel a way to express himself in spite of being mute. They have a routine they do together where Fellow pretends to be a doctor diagnosing a patient and Gidel takes down notes for him as his medical scribe. Yes, this is a Pinocchio reference—
They actually have many more games they play (mainly because they cannot afford other forms of entertainment). Some of the games are clever ruses conjured by Fellow to teach Gidel survival tips and tricks: the who-can-make-their-piece-of-bread-last-longer game, hide-and-seek (from the authorities), etc.
For special occasions, Fellow saves up some money on the side to grant Gidel little luxuries, like a box of crayons to doodle with.
Gidel hugs Fellow’s leg or waist to cheer him up when he’s upset. He also hides behind Fellow when he’s scared or feeling shy.
He’s just really attached to Gidel cuz they have no one else in this cruel world, just them against the world 😔 He sees a lot of his younger self in the little boy… the opportunities lost because of their circumstances… “It’s alright, Gidel. Leave it to Fellow-sama.”
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wondeurwall · 1 month
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Idk if u've seen rafayel's new oracle story BUT IT HAS BEEN PLAGUING MY MIND
"What if i make it up to you like this yeah?"
MAKE UP SEX WITH RAFAYEL.
TELL ME DO YOU THINK THEY'LL HAVE IT OFTEN?? But ones in a more playful sort of way not really full on arguments if you get what i mean 😩💗💗
oh my god please, nonnie, rafayel's oracle story is literally the only thing on my mind. i've been so unwell
i went in with one dream and spent everything i had because my luck is abysmal. and, the worst part?? I CAN'T EVEN BE UPSET ABOUT IT 😭🫵🏻 it wasn't what i expected. it's kind of funny ASKDDJKD!! i thought it'd be myth related. instead, i was blessed with rafayel.... kisses... 🥰
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itty bitty nsfw 🔞 mdni.
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rafayel would 100% down for playful makeup sex 😵‍💫💕 honestly, he'd pull any kind of excuse just to get you undressed and fucked out in bliss. he loves how pretty you look when you cum 💕 even more when he and you can get a good laugh in between because he'd appreciate lightheartedness in intimacy. after all, he wouldn't have sex with anyone else! he needs trust to do those sweet, silly things too, and he can only ever do that with you.
because i think he'd find a lot of fun with it, he'd do it often, but the sex doesn't necessarily need to be absolutely mind-blowing once initiated. banter is fun, even better when it leads to sex, but he just loves being close like that: naked and a tangled mess of limbs with the warmth coming from your body to his.
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he's a night owl, so he's unintentionally ignoring your texts. maybe, even misses a few phone calls or immediately ends an incoming one, thinking it's an alarm he set up before. part of the day goes by and you're coming into his home to make sure he's doing alright. there's no use in pretending that you aren't upset. because you are upset! you didn't hear from him 💔 but, you find that he's just now out of bed after finishing a new piece of art.
"were you asleep this whole time?" you ask.
he rambles on about a sudden inspiration he had and that, "it'd be wrong to rest when the idea was too good."
you listen, nod, but truthfully some of his words go in and out the other ear. you frown at him. and, when he asks why you have that look on your face, you're quick to say, "i'm sure you can figure out why."
he knows. of course, he knows. he reads you well, just like you do him. then, his shoulders are a little hunched over, and he's laughing!
"i've really spoiled you," he says softly. his hands are on your hips the next second, pulling you close. "mm, why not let me make it up to you? i'm awake now, and we have the rest of the day to ourselves."
he lifts you and lays you on the couch. kisses you while he thinks about how many times he can get you gushing on his fingers and tongue before his cock.
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OR, if you're the one making it up to him 🥹
accidentally spilling paint on a good shirt of his? you're panicking as soon as it happens. your hands move faster than your mouth, and you're halfway with unbuttoning his shirt before telling him he needs to take it off.
his laughter is what stops you. it dawns on you! but, to be fair, your thoughts don't have anything else besides: the shirt must be washed before it really stains.
"someone's being bold," he chuckles as your eyes meet. "did you plan this?"
"what?" and, the fabric drops from between your fingers. rafayel doesn't miss the way your gaze falls briefly, catching the sight of his bare chest, last 2 or 3 buttons barely laying over his abdomen. "me, ruining a piece of clothing that's probably over three times my budget? i don't think that's planning. it's called being clumsy."
your face feels warm. you take a deep breath, reach out to him, "c'mon. i'll wash it. take it off before the paint makes it unsalvageable."
rafayel clasps your wrist with his hand, steps into your space, voice deepening with a tinge of playfulness, "no, i can think of a better idea. how about me and you have matching clothes?"
he embraces you, gets you wearing blotches of paint too, and you want to argue. but, you can't find the energy to when one hand is guiding your head back and the other is tugging on your neckline. rafayel's lips move to your throat first. then, trails open-mouthed kisses along the rest of your neck, jaw, the base of your shoulder, before whispering, "it's a good idea, yeah?"
since you're the one to make a mess of his shirt first, he wants you riding him as compensation. to make him feel good? yes, sure, he loves that. though, the reason for it, most of all: he wants you using his cock like you own it. wants you aching and desperate for him. cum all over him, feel good because of him. nothing gets him going more than watching you bounce on top and moan his name so sweetly 🥰
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© 2024 wondeurwall ☆ all rights reserved. please don't repost as your own, modify or translate on here or on other platforms. reblogs & likes are appreciated! ♡
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impishjesters · 5 months
Note
If it’s not too much trouble, what about Caine or Jax (whoever you prefer!) with an s/o who is just. Tiny. Like, can-take-a-nap-inside-Jax’s-overalls-pocket small - like not even a foot tall!
Maybe they can change their size at will, maybe they’re just eternally itty bitty, your choice!
Thank you so much, and have a wonderful day/night!!
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Caine
You’re so small that while Caine finds it adorable, it is also quite the pain when it comes to including you in activities, or just doing anything with him overall.
In the beginning, he’d offered to carry you when he was present, but because it’s Caine it’s not a very fun method of transportation. His whole head kinda makes sitting on it or his shoulders difficult or impossible. And being carried around like a doll isn’t very fun or comfortable—especially with Caine being the type who talks with his hands.
Jax once called you a mouse as an insult and Caine found the name to be cute and fitting—unaware that it was an insult—and took to calling you his little mouse.
It takes awhile but Caine offers to try making you bigger—though the two of you find out later on it’s not permanent. The upside is you can switch between little and big at the price of exhaustion.
He’s in utter awe the first time he gets to fully take you in, all the hard-to-make details finally pop, and wow you are cuter than he thought initially.
Caine likes to make it a fun little game for himself to play, which is essentially just hide and seek except you aren’t intentionally hiding. You aren’t even aware he’s really playing the one-sided game, he just likes to pop in randomly and see if he can find you. You are a slippery little thing able to bypass many of his all-seeing eyes.
When it comes to dates he prefers them with bigger you, not that he dislikes your smaller form but he realizes how impractical it would be to take you out and exhaust you on such a tiny walk when there’s so much more ground to cover. Or risk losing you—which he’s totally never done before by the way…
Being big means he can hold your hand, lead you around, and sit with you, he feels like you are equal this way, when you are tiny he feels like the bad guy with control over everything—even if it technically is.
Just for funsies, Caine has shrunk himself down to your side when it’s just the two of you, it’s a very trippy experience he’ll say that much. Everything really is massive holy heck.
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Jax
Jax has without a doubt nearly stepped on you or kicked you too many times to count that he’s taken to shoving you in the pocket of his overalls for safekeeping.
Mind you it wasn’t intentional, you’re just so damn tiny and he’s definitely far from being the shortest in the circus. If anything he does feel genuinely bad, not only did you get the shit hand of being the size of a Barbie doll, but he’s not even the only person who’s nearly trampled you.
You’re basically a glorified purse dog in a sense, it’s easiest when he carries you around and does all the hard work and walking. You are his little purse dog s/o and he’s your glorified taxi driver, the two of you definitely joke about it though so there are no hard feelings.
Jax has found you more than once taking a cat nap when he checks inside his pocket, you’ve even got a little pillow and blanket—where the hell did you get those?
“I feel more like an apartment than a boyfriend.”
“Oo, free rent, great view, and a boyfriend. What a steal.”
You’ve experimented sitting on his shoulders and head before, Jax vetoed your rights to his head after you’d clung to his ear screaming—though to be fair there’s not much to hold on with him moving around. And after nearly wearing you like a necklace as you choked him out, the two of you settled that the pocket was best.
He just moves around too much sometimes for anything but the pocket to be safe, though when it’s just the two of you and things are chill he’ll give you necklace and earring rights again. (something he started calling you with the way you’d cling to him.)
Regardless of the appearance you’ve taken, Jax calls you a doll because well, you’re literally the size of one it’s self-explanatory. He even stopped calling Ragatha “doll face” to avoid any confusion when referring to you.
The whole permanent tiny thing gets on his nerves but he tries not to mention it, it sucks not being able to do stuff normally with you—or hold your hand or you—well in a manner that’s not his pocket. You get the gist.
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kaoyuuji · 12 days
Text
adopting a kitty !!
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boyfriend! s.gojo x non-sorcerer! f!reader - . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁adopting a kitty headcanons ! . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖”How are you? I’m doing okay Unlike my heart, that feels like it’ll explode” . ݁ ꒰ᐢ. .ᐢ꒱₊˚⊹ 🎧
༘˚⋆𐙚。 on what felt like the hottest day of the millennium, gojo satoru was inside his house, enjoying a nice cold popsicle. Despite the boiling heat suffocating his body, he was in a peaceful state. Simply enjoying his lazy afternoon on the couch. that is until his beloved partner came home from her day job… with a white kitten in her arms.
⋆𖦹.✧˚ She tried to sneak past her lover, as if he didn’t hear her come inside. “andd where are you sneaking to?” — She froze. “i thought you were sleeping!” He shifted his body to look back at you, and sees the baby kitty in your arms. His eyes widen.
“andd what is that?!”
“a kitten.. i only wanted to bring it inside to give it some water!” — “really?” — “no..(*ノ▽ノ)”
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༘˚⋆𐙚。 of course he didn’t even bother arguing against you keeping it, he’d never deny you anything!
“as long as it doesn’t claw this face.. it can stay.” were his only conditions ┐( ̄ヮ ̄)┌ ..
⋆𖦹.✧˚ Gojo-Jr is the name y’all(gojo) chose, i mean the little kitty looks just like him! Big blue eyes and the fluffiest white hair, and the prettiest face! Truth be told, he’s ૮ ˙Ⱉ˙ ა excited to raise this kitty than you are !! “What if it’s a girl?” You asked — “Let me have my moment (name)!”
༘˚⋆𐙚。 You have sooo many photos of Gojo and Gojo-Jr sleeping together! You’ve never seen your boyfriend more at peace while sleeping, you can tell how much peace this baby kitten brings him. — And the two of you are proud parents, you take many photos of Jr and show all of them off to anybody in a 5 mile radius.
⋆𖦹.✧˚ Gojo is so attached it’s as if it’s his real child :> They’re always sleeping together, Gojo-Jr lovesss to nuzzle in the crook of your lovers neck, or the middle of his lap. Your favorite part of a long day is coming home to seeing your boyfriend resting peacefully with a baby kitten in his lap.. a very cute scene!
༘˚⋆𐙚。 The oneee thing Gojo can’t stand about Gojo-Jr is the amount of hair he sheds. “(name) we have to take Gojo-Jr to the vet. This can’t be normal!” He’s constantly complaining, but he always quickly forgives his baby. I mean look at it!
⋆𖦹.✧˚ Yes Gojo bought a cat leash for the kitten. And yes he 100% plans on using it when it grows up. “We have to get its shots before it can go outside!” — “The pet of the strongest can handle a few fleas (name).” — “?!?”
༘˚⋆𐙚。 Unfortunately Gojo-Jr got fleas after its first day outside due to its fathers recklessness ( ̄  ̄|||) .. Of course he took care of his pet with the most expensive vet care, your orders! Ever since then Gojo has learned his lesson too.
⋆𖦹.✧˚ And yes for halloween he did buy Jr a itty-bitty mask just like Gojos, and YESS he did show off the many pictures to his students the day after.
༘˚⋆𐙚。 Megumi is 100% Gojo-Jrs babysitter when the two of you are busy. He doesn’t mind of course, anything for you (If it were Gojo asking he'd deny immediately. jkk!) Megumi sends pictures of Jr every other hour. (per Gojos request) , and after spending a day with the kitten Megumi understands why the two of you love it soo much! Despite him being more of a dog person >_>
⋆𖦹.✧˚ in the end, this baby kitten became an official member of your family! Anddd this might be the closest to having a real kid the two of you will get to anyways ( ̄ω ̄;)
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catsdegeneratecorner · 3 months
Note
Can I please request Dottore x clingy reader who loves giving him affection thank you! 💕
hell yeah baby that's what i'm TALKIN ABOUT ୧(☉□☉୨ ⸝⸝⸝⸝⸝⸝ cw: fluff, vague mentions of gore includes: gn!reader, dottore, webttore mentionned for like a second wc: 1k
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6 minutes. 
That was the longest amount of time Dottore had gone without being bugged by your presence. Well, "bugged” was a bit of a strong word- maybe more so inconvenienced by your endless whining for attention. It’s not that he hated it, it was quite the opposite really, but he actually needed to get work done before tomorrow and couldn’t afford to get distracted this time around. You called out after him for the millionth time today, trotting up to his side with an almost puppy-like expression, looking up at him expectantly. 
Currently wrist deep in the guts of one of his poor victims, he swallowed down the urge to speak his mind honestly, instead choosing to glance over at you from the corner of his eyes. His glare (unfortunately) did nothing to deter your determination and willpower- with his attention now on you, you flash him a bright smile, wrapping your arms around his torso from his right side. 
“Hey, why don’t you take a break?” you ask, tilting your head up to look at him properly. Dottore’s sharp, angular features never failed to make you swoon no matter how many times you looked at his unmasked face. You think it’s a blessing, but he argues that it’s a curse- especially now that you won’t leave him alone, making him pause his work. 
“No,” he sighs for the nth time, bringing his attention back to the corpse on the metal table. “I have work to do. Why don’t you go bother Delta instead? He should be filing out some paperwork,” the doctor says, skillfully shrugging you off of him. You shake your head, resting your hands on his forearm to give him the space he needed. 
“I don’t want to hang out with him though,” you say with a frown, bottom lip jutting out in a pout. “Come on, you’ve been working non-stop for ages now. Just a small break! An itty bitty one. Like thirty minutes. You can spare that much, can you?” 
The Harbinger stares at the wall with a deadpan expression, weighing his options. On one hand, he could give in, listen to you and take a much needed break. But on the other hand, he could always just... lock you in his office. Not that he would leave you there for long, just enough for him to get this experiment over with. Plus it’s not like you’d be like a dog stuck in a hot car in the middle of summer without any a/c, he had a plush sofa he never used im his office alongside a mini fridge he also never used. The amenities were there for this exact scenario, anyways- so you’d be comfortable while waiting for him to be done. Although, the more he thought about it, the more his body began to feel heavy, exhaustion seeping through his limbs. Dottore grumbles some choice words under his breath and withdraws his arms out from the bloody mess that came from his current experiment and makes his way towards the sink. You follow after him, curious. 
“‘Ttore?” 
“I give up,” the doctor sighs, his shoulders slumping forward. He turns on the sink and discards his bloody surgical gloves, washing his calloused hands under the cold water to get rid of whatever gunk had gotten on his skin. “What do you want?” he asks in an indecipherable tone. You perk up noticeably, a smile making its way back to your face as you watch him dry his hands and turn around to give you his full attention. 
“Just wanna spend time with you, honestly.” you say a little sheepishly. “Have you eaten yet?” 
“Not hungry.” 
“Wanna take a walk? Get some fresh air?” 
The offer seemed tempting. After spending hours smelling nothing but hospital-grade cleaning supplies, iron and death the doctor wouldn’t say no to a trip outside of his lab- that is to say if he were anyone but the second Harbinger. 
Instead, he grabs his mask and lab coat from the coat rack and begins to walk away, making a gesture for you to follow after him. And you do so eagerly, catching up to him fairly quickly considering how long his strides were. 
Your footsteps echo in the quiet hallways, the only sound bouncing off the ornate walls of the otherwise cold and barren palace. The both of you reach your destination, Dottore pushing the door open to reveal his (barely used) bedroom. Tossing his coat aside and placing his mask on his nightstand, he loosens his button-down shirt and sits on his bed, looking at you with a raised brow. 
“Are you going to stand in the doorway all day?” he asks with the slightest bit of amusement, kicking off his shoes and repositioning himself to lay down on the bed properly. You snap out of it and shake your head, closing the door behind you, jumping in next to him happily. Your bodies fit with one another perfectly, his arms snaking themselves around your waist while you hold him around his shoulders, keeping one free hand to stroke his icy locks. He hums contentedly, eyelids fluttering shut. 
“Happy?” he asks, voice muffled from how close his face is to your chest. Your nails gently scratch his scalp, drawing out a soft sigh from the doctor. 
“Very,” you say, smile audible in your tone of voice. Dottore simply hums in response, basking in the comfort of the warmth of your body against him. Part of you felt the need to ask him how long he wanted to stay like this knowing that the doctor hated being away from his lab but, feeling a bit selfish, you allow yourself to revel in the small victory that came in the form of finally convincing Dottore to let you have him all to yourself for a portion of his day. The both of you drift off peacefully, knowing perfectly well that you’re going to repeat this dance once more in the morning when the Harbinger has to work.
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mundoperla · 1 year
Note
What about… RZ Michael Myers doing something unholy, like he’s really horny, with his fem friend (also a patient) at the Smith’s Grove? Like in some corridor or smth 👀 Wall sex, whaaat???
Would be grateful and on my knees, thanks 🙏
this got me kicking my feet in the air like a schoolgirl rn
& its my favorite michael??? ofc im abt to tackle this tf😩💜
𝙍𝙕 𝙈𝙞𝙘𝙝𝙖𝙚𝙡 𝙈𝙮𝙚𝙧𝙨 𝙭 𝙁𝙚𝙢 𝙋𝙖𝙩𝙞𝙚𝙣𝙩 𝙍𝙚𝙖𝙙𝙚𝙧
— No matter how many cameras there are, there will always be blind spots.
· ┈┈┈┈┈┈ · ꕥ · ┈┈┈┈┈┈ ·
you see the title bitties here are the warnings vv
⚠️⚠️cws;; basically public sex, wall sex ofc, michael being HORNY, p in v but i think thats kind of expected, overall that nasty shit (lighthearted)⚠️⚠️
· ┈┈┈┈┈┈ · ꕥ · ┈┈┈┈┈┈ ·
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Despite his lack of communication, Michael made your stay at Smith’s Grove much more pleasant. He never acted out or caused any type of problems when you first arrived, he’d been relatively calm for quite some time now. Always alone in his room, no sound, no nothing, just him making masks in silence.
It was his creativity that sparked your initial interest in him in the first place. His walls were cover from top to bottom in the masks he’d make in his alone time, many ranging from different colors and shapes. Truthfully he never wanted to interact with you whenever you’d make a quick pass by his room to go somewhere on the other side of the hospital, there was a point in time where he found you annoying even.
Yet no matter how much time passed you’d still swing by with a quick ‘hello!’. It escalated to a point where you would linger on the other side of his door and hold up one sided conversations with him, of course him never responding to you verbally. It was alright though, body language is able to tell you enough.
You did all of the talking for the two of you, which all though he never spoke aloud, he appreciated. He hasn’t spoken in years and by the looks of it he wasn’t going to any time soon. Trust me, Dr. Loomis has tried.
You were no threat to Michael to begin with, he had no reason to dismiss you unless he had become tired of your company; which very rarely happened. He was surprisingly as patient as you were with him, perhaps this was his own way of saying ‘thank you’.
The two of you were almost like a joined pair after he had grown slightly more comfortable around you, if you went somewhere—Michael followed, if Michael went somewhere — you would follow. It was shocking to everyone that he’d show even such a small form of attachment to another living being without brutally murdering it. Of course in the early stages of your ‘friendship’ the two of you were heavily monitored before you could be permitted to be in spaces together alone with just a nurse on standby.
“ I’m gonna go ask one of the doctors if I can have another juice, you want one too ? ”
Michael won’t verbally respond, but he will turn his eyes down to the floor at your question.
“ Alright so that’s a no. Sit tight I’ll be right back. ”
He watched you sit up from the table the two of you sat at, disappearing into one of the many hallways. He had originally got up to go and follow you like he always did, but something inside him told him not to, it had told him something else.
He ever so slightly considered you as some kind of companion, but he wanted you as something else. You were very beautiful to him and some of the other patients on your side of the building, it’s normal to think someone is nice looking. Yet he’d catch himself staring a bit too hard when you would do the simplest of things such as drinking some water or even when you stretched and a sliver of your stomach would be exposed. Was it also normal to have these filthy thoughts directed towards a so-called ‘friend’?
The bulge in his pants grew ever so larger the longer he sad and pondered. He needed to ‘fix’ this before you came back and saw. Would you think he was disgusting if you did see him this way? Surely you would.
You had come back to your shared table empty handed only to see that Michael was gone, maybe he’d gone back to his room? He could be tired, nothing wrong with just a quick swing by his door and wish him goodnight.
There were quite a few cameras the closer you got to Michael’s room, just as you turn into the corridor large hands yank you from the entrance to a darker corner of the hall. You’d mentally braced yourself to be strangled by this unknown person, but familiar blonde strands of hair loomed above you, of course the orange mask eased the tension much more.
Michael silently stared down at you, you could just barely see his sky blue eyes behind the paper mask. But now left the following questions, why was he just waiting in the corner? why is he now all of a sudden making actual physical contact with you? Truthfully one could only imagine the worst in the sense of it being correlated with him of all people, but the worst never came.
You’d opened your mouth to speak but you’re immediately silenced by the feeling of his erection pressing itself into your ass. He was rubbing himself against you now, still as silent as ever, showing no sign of satisfaction.
“ Mike- Michael! There’s cameras, we can’t do this here, we could get caught.. ”
Of course he doesn’t give you a verbal response, but this time will give you a slow twirl of his finger, telling you to look around you. There weren’t any cameras that could catch you in their line of sight, and the one camera that was much closer than the rest faced the opposite direction where you had originally been grabbed.
He was telling you it was safe to continue, you were clear to unfold. You’d be lying if you said you weren’t the slightest bit aroused as him, maybe even more. Using his cold hands to slide under your shirt so he could squeeze the soft flesh of your breasts, to then slowly migrate under the fabric of your pants to rub you through your underwear. You’d began to grind back into him, trying to pull down his own pants down as well as your own so the two of you could ease this tension much quicker.
Michael had fantasized about how you would feel around his cock, the way you would squeeze him and the sounds you could make when he started to thrust, he couldn’t live with the possibility of another person pleasuring you instead of him. He needed to be the one to take you, you may not be aware but you’re in fact his and his only. Maybe he liked you alot more than what he initially thought.
Your body trembled as Michael moved your body slightly so you were now fully pressed against the wall with him standing behind you, one hand held you in place by the hip whilst the other began to align himself against your hole, knowing him there will be no auditory warning that he’d be sliding in. You’re not a pussy, you could take him, couldn’t you ?
Both of your hands rested on the white brick walls, truthfully you weren’t even sure he was going to fit inside. He’s taking his sweet time behind you. You’re really about to become his in a dark corner that surveillance could not reach, this could have been much better under different circumstances, but neither of you could chose the have sex in a different location at this time, you’ll take what you can get.
The stretch that followed after an agonizing 15 seconds of the man behind you pondering could be considered as beyond painful, your hand quickly covering your mouth to muffle your whimpers. He can feel your walls clamp around him, gushing uncontrollably by the sudden rush of pleasure. He’s not even halfway inside you yet, but you’ve got his pelvis and a small bit of the floor wet now, clearly you wanted this as much as he did.
You don’t get the luxury of Michael stopping in his tracks to let you breathe before he continues to push himself into you, however you get the honor or him bending himself over enough to cover your mouth with his own hands instead of your own. Now you just had to focus on keeping yourself steady while he takes what’s his.
You’d think he had never hear the word ‘gentle’ in his lifetime. His thrusts were fast yet also powerful, despite his hands covering your mouth small moans still escaped. He had just started yet you felt so fucked out already, your legs trembling, your juices dribbling down your thigh and back down onto the floor.
He fucks you like you’re a fleshlight, dominantly chasing his own high but still trying to get you to come undone as well. He’s intentionally trying to break you as much as possible before the two of you have to eventually wrap up, his hands shy away from your mouth, one to slither down to toy with your clit whilst the other grips onto one of your tits as he continues to pound himself into your cunt like a man possessed. He makes it impossible not to scream but you are aware to still keep your voice down as much as possible.
“ Michael.. Keep moving just like that.. I’m so- Fuck.. ”
Your voice had continued to quiver the longer he kept going, the coil in your belly was about to snap once again. Michael considered finishing inside as some kind of ‘mark’ to leave behind, but he could always wait for another time to have that visual. For right now it was your ass that he had decided on, he’d still get a satisfactory visual of himself on you.
Practically yanking himself out of you just as you had came, his warmth begins to coat your skin. You’re lightheaded and you could feel your legs about to give out as Michael let go of you. Silently admiring his ‘art’, he’d wiped a smudge of his mess off of you with his finger, bringing it up to your lips. It was sweet but also bitter, it was him. He could leave you here to clean yourself up so he could go back to his room, but based off of how you were struggling to keep yourself up, maybe he could just take you back to your own room before departing for the night.
He had taken the time to get you dressed back up as well as himself, pulling you out of the corridor down to the hallway opposite to your own room. Your hand felt so small in his, he was intimidating to many people, but you ? There was an odd sense of security from being this close to Michael. He stood with you for a brief moment after arriving to your room, with him he could have just been there to stare at you a while longer or he was silently examining you to get a clear visual that you were okay to be left on your own now. Could have just been both.
He was exhausted now, but also mildly flustered. So much had just happened and he could barely process it. He’s turned to walk back down to his own room so that you could get some sleep as well, but is quickly stopped buy the force of you clinging yourself onto one of his arms tightly.
“ Goodnight Mikey, we should definitely do that again at some point. ”
You’re hardly standing up straight yet you’ve asked him to.. again, too much to process. But he will take your request into consideration.
┉ˏ͛ ༝̩̩̥͙ ⑅͚˚   ҉  ⑅͚˚ ͛༝̩̩̥͙ ˎ┉
apologies if the ending is messy i have no clue how to properly conclude shit i tried my best
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yeeterthek33per · 2 months
Text
Surprise (Katrina Gorry x Reader)
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A/n Jeez sorry guys, welcome back to me ay? Anyways, here's the first of many requests, I'm getting back into it, I swear.
Requested.
Warnings/summary: Fluff. Harper Gorry. Itty Bitty Bit suggestive at the end.
You swear, your arms feel like they might pop any second.
It would make sense if you were doing a workout, but it turns out dragging around a 15kg toddler all day is basically the same thing.
With your wife Katrina running around to do assigned media duties before the game tomorrow, you'd been left in charge of little Harper before her family came to get her for the night so you both could get an adequate amount of sleep for once.
There's a little squeal as you swing the small blonde girl up into onto your hip when she tries to make a break for the open doorway that leads onto the pavement outside.
"Mama noooo!"
"Mama yes! No running off like that baby. We stay together while we go out. You know that."
The small pout from her lips reminds you very much of her other mother as you tickle her slightly to elicit a small giggle.
"We goin to get ice cweem?"
You chuckle softly, running your fingers through her blonde locks.
"Yeah, we're getting some ice cream after we have a little walk alright?"
"Chacha coming?"
"Yes Hun, Chacha’s comin', we just gotta wait for her to come down so we can go."
Harper seemingly accepts that, leaning back fully into your hold to sit and play with the small silver necklace you have on, with your wife's and Harper's initials as the pendants.
It takes a very long five minutes as Charlie finally gets off the elevator ready to go, the little blonde in your arms getting much more fidgety as you stand and wait.
"Chacha!"
"Took you long enough, come on!"
She rolls her eyes before turning to the tiny girl you're holding and snatches her up to ride on her shoulders, your biceps screaming in relief finally.
Any other day of the week, you'd be used to it but after the intense gym session the day before, you weren't sure your arms wouldn't have fallen off by the end of today without your younger compatriot to take the younger version of herself off your hands.
The groan of relief you let out as she does so, has her laughing.
"Stop complaining, she's your kid, you should be used to this by now."
"Hush you, gym sessions and wandering toddlers don't mix, now let's go before we run out of time."
"Why are we out here again? It's supposed to be rest day today."
The bright, sunny warmth of the day is nothing compared to the day previous, leaving you feeling a little relieved at not having to deal with 27 odd degree temperatures and an impatient two-year-old.
"We're out here because I need one more thing for tomorrow and I just needed someone to give me an excuse to leave the hotel.
"Why do you need my help? You've known Mini longer. You're literally married to her."
"I know but it's our first game together as a married couple and I want it to be super special for her."
"Alright alright, so what are we picking out again?"
"It's a surprise for the game. I asked the uniformers if I could tweak my jersey a little."
"Okay? What does that have to do with- wait..."
She pauses a little, her hand coming up and making the stop motion.
"You're changing it to Gorry?"
Her eyes water a little as a massive grin stretches across your face with a chuckle and you nod.
Charlie bounces a little in excitement, the squeal she lets out startling the child on her shoulders.
"Is this an official name change?"
You hum in the affirmative, steadying the blonde as she bounces into you, careful not to let Harper fall from her perch.
"It's been a thought for a long while, we talked about it, but we never confirmed whether or not I'd change my name. She definitely wants to keep Gorry, though."
"So why are we going shopping then?"
"Because I'm going out to pick up a preorder I made a couple weeks ago, it was supposed to be a wedding gift when we got married here but they couldn’t get it finished in time so I settled for the specialised necklaces and just made these the World Cup gift instead."
"So, what's the preorder then?"
"You'll see. Wait here"
You playfully wink and duck into the jewellery store to your left, right as she asks the question.
Returning just a few minutes later, bag in hand.
"Alright, let's go."
Charlie looks at you expectantly.
"You're not gonna show me?"
"Later. Harps, what do you say sweety, ice cream time?"
The toddler jumps up and down in her spot upon the older girl’s shoulders.
"Yes pleeeeease!"
Humming in contentment, you drag her down the street to a cold rock ice creamery, much to the protest of the twenty-two-year-old.
-------------------
A loud grumble from the blonde laid across your bed makes you glance up from your spot at the desk with a chuckle.
"At least one little peak, come on Y/n/n. Pleeeeease? You dragged me all the way out to go get it. It's the least you could do."
You'd swear she was in fact Harper's older sister with the way she was giving you the puppy dog eyes.
"You can't wait for tomorrow to see it? Like everyone else?"
"No".
She deadpans and perches herself onto the desk next to where you're signing out papers to send off to the registry that you got married under.
'Alright alright alright. Pass me the bag. I need to hide the box anyways."
There's a small smile as you open up the ring box again, and it reminds you heavily of the ring box Katrina had so smoothly removed from her satchel at the beach the day you'd gotten engaged.
The mid thickness silver band shines under the small white desk lamp, the curved engravings on the underside of it glimmering as you carefully hand it to the blonde who's expression melts at the sight of it.
The little inscription of "our kind of love is the best kind. - (Y)G" and the little football symbol on the bottom matches perfectly with the style of writing.
"It matches our wedding rings. I'll give it to her to her tomorrow after the game."
"She's gonna love it. I love it. God, can you get me one?"
Rolling your eyes at her, you chuckle softly as she slips the ring back into the box and you tuck it away into safe corner of the room until it's needed.
"I'll be sure to let Lachlan know."
She smiles softly at the mention of her boyfriend before a small inquizzacal look appears on her face.
"So, how's this gonna pan out without her noticing again?"
"Well...."
-------------------
Stepping down and off the bus, there's a nervousness in the air, not like the usual national games hold. You'd been to major tournaments before, hell you were in France for the 2019 world cup but there's nothing like the feeling you get now.
Walking into a home stadium, in your home uniform at a home world cup, and awaiting you is the eighty thousand strong crowd, the hopefully perfect condition pitch and your bouncing blonde toddler with her grandmother in the stands.
It's a feeling out of this world.
And it gets better knowing what's waiting for Katrina as well.
Not just a chance at redemption from the last World Cup.
Not just her sweet little harper, cheering and yelling for her mommy and her teammates the moment they step onto the pitch.
A hand on your shoulder jolts you a little, you'd paused in front of your cubby after hearing the ever so faint cheers of the crowd above the entrance to the player area.
"You alright?"
Your wife’s comforting hand gently squeezes your arm as you nod, giving her a reassuring smile.
“Feelin’ great, baby.”
Resting your hand on hers, you caress it with your thumb softly before gently nudging her back to her own cubby to get ready for pitch inspection.
Subtly making eye contact with the trainer across the room, you give him a nod as he slips away to grab the jersey, he’d made ready in time for the game.
Slipping on your training jersey, you duck out onto the pitch before warmups are due to start.
You end up making it quicker than usual in order to slip out to meet the trainer to grab your actual jersey which you leave in your cubby away from sight.
Waving to the already numerous fans in the stadium, you make your rounds of the pitch to get a proper feel of it, and when Sam spots herself on the big screen managing to sneak a selfie, you and your teammates are left chuckling.
Warmups go smoothly, and the atmosphere and tremendous crowd are both buzzing with enormous amounts of energy.
Breathing in the cool night air, your shots feel a little shaky in the leadup, but they quickly relax as you settle in amongst the encouragement and atsmosphere of your teammates.
Despite the devastation at finding out Sam won’t be playing for at least three games, the determination sets in hard and the moment you are all called back to the changerooms, a hardness sets about you and everything in your head calms in the moment, ready to get out there and play like it’s any other game, trying to ignore the already enormous amount of pressure on your shoulders.
Tony gives a quick speech before sending you all off to line up ready for the walkout.
The team are still in their training jackets when you walk out and it’s only when you slip off yours, and place it over the shoulders of the mascot in front of you after the national anthems, that she finally notices.
You’re number 24 while Katrina is number 19 so she isn’t directly next to you to see it, however a close up of your back on the big screen catches her attention when she realises it isn’t her number attached to the last name and she leans forward to catch your eye as you all move to huddle.
Winking at her, you smile and move stand next to her, arm slipping around her shoulders as Sam and Tony do the final send off.
The double take of a few of your teammates makes you laugh, and you press a kiss to your wife’s cheek with a small ‘Surprise.’ Spoken in her ear.
She grabs your face before you can go anywhere.
“Not so fast you.”
There’s a small hum of appreciation when she presses her lips to yours in a brief kiss and her eyes water a little up at you.
“I love you so much, Mrs L/n.”
“It’s Gorry now, baby.”
Her smile widens and right as you go to kiss her once more, a slap to the back startles you.
It’s a grinning Sam who urges you over to the rest of your waiting team who’ve been watching you both with amusement visibly plastered on all of their faces.
"Let’s do this, pretty girl."
With that, you feel more than ready to start this thing.
-------------------
The first thing you feel the moment you're off the bus is Katrina's hand dragging you back inside the hotel and up the stairs, far too impatient to wait for the elevator to come down.
The moment you're both up the six flights of stairs, despite the immense exhaustion you're both exhibiting after the battle against Ireland, there's a giddiness in both of your steps and she quickly drags you into your room with the swipe of your keycard.
The soft giggle that leaves your lips the moment you're pressed back against the door makes her grin and her hands slipping under the hem of your hoodie leave shivers behind as you think back to the look she'd given you from the left of you across the locker room.
Full of love and adoration and a little hint of desire as they move to the name across your back.
Mouthing those three words you know sends warmth to her chest every time she hears them, she mouths them back with a small grin.
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