Tumgik
#I have not stopped rotating her in my head
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Ooooooo she looks sooooooo pretty!!!!! Her portrait was so awful in heroes, and now she looks so good. I am so normal about her.
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ganondoodle · 9 months
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as i was awake in the middle of the night for like 2 hours bc i felt sick i had more somewhat random totk thoughts
one being that i really hate how raurus response to concerned zelda is, after sonia died in that almost funny how little impactful it was way, "im sure you are here for a reason" (actually, i hate how often this sentence is used in general to .. idk i guess its supposed to be inspiritational???)
bc what does that mean actually? him saying that to someone who got there absolutely by accident really just sounds like "i dont care go figure it out yourself bc i dont want to think about anything concerning you or your troubles lol" i guess its meant to sound like OOOOH fate has BROUGHT you here bc you have to furfill a role you dont know yet (spoiler its being a sacrifice girl with no personality) and besides me hating the 'inescapable fate' trope in general (at least the way its usually done in these games, which is not to struggle against it but willingly accept whatever you are told and pretend thats good) its really jsut goddamn boring and is really only an excuse to well .. ignore her and her trouble; shouldnt you, if you were actually such a cool guy like the game wants me to believe so bad, do everything in your power to get zelda back to her own world before shes pulled even further into the war you caused now that her only ""mentor"" that could help her get more use of her pretty much useless sudden powers is gone too?? i know shes basically dead wife sonia replacement (can of worms ugh) but it still grinds my gears whenever i think of that cutscene, bc i cant help but hear it as the lamest excuse in existence to not care about her and just kinda .. see what happens which in this case means leave zelda completely on her her own since both rauru and mineru die as well (honestly shouldnt rauru have thought about like .. any plan to defeat gan besides dying himself, given hes the oh so cool and goodest guy king whos only mistake was not stabbing gan the second he stepped into their kathedral castle thing, like even if you had a plan it can still fail but it seemed like he just kinda went in with a handful of people that didnt seem to know each other at all, never got names or faces -or unique voices for that matter- to fight gan face to face inlcuding the girl that came from a different time and had nothing to do with any of this conflict and couldnt even really control her sudden new powers just seems pretty stupid)
thought 2
how totk really feels like botw but for the people who didnt like shiekah tech, its not a sequel, its botw again, but version of only sonau, its like a pokemon game that had two versions but one has weirdly incoherent story and acts like the other never existed jsut as a whole its like retreading the same points but worse, all shiekah tech that was so integral to the world and had such a long history just vanishing and no one caring about any of it like it never happened, HELL the titans were called divine beasts in english but i guess they werent divine or important enough to keep around LOL champions WHO and isntead a never before seen or even heard of race for that matter showing up and planting their ass in every place the shiekah were before, dare i say it feels weirdly manipulative, like either them or some outside force erasing every fact about the ancient shiekah and replace them with sonau stuff bc they are the hot new shit now
this is a point that just doesnt stop bothering me, how the shiekah tech seemed so carefully designed and integrated into botws world and story, its a difficult to keep balance after all, integrating high tech stuff into a medieval setting, but they made it work! and then totk comes around and throws a bunch modern day tech into it puts some vague greenish stone filter on its exterior and call that even better more ancient tech; why did they even bother to make pottery inspired laser shooting spider legged robots so well integrated when they throw a car and rockets into the next game without a thought and call it a day, what was the fucking point
it feels like someone was dead set on having a set of legos thrown into the game it had no place in, if you want players to build whatever they want make a building game instead!! especially if you are just gonna throw it in with seemingly no consideration how out of place it feels togehter with the fACT THAT YOU ALREADY HAD AND ANCIENT HIGH TECH CIVILIZATION WITH A VERY DISTINCT AESTHETIC THAT WAS ALREADY WELL INTEGRATED INTO THE WORLD YOU ARE PLANNING TO REUSE WITH ALOT OF MYSTERY AND UNKOWN STUFF ABOUT THEM TO EXPLORE FURTHER YOU COULD HAVE USED!! but i guess they just "didnt want to play with you anymore" and that so much so that they went out of their way to erase every trace of it, i dont think the words shiekah tech are ever used in the game, and the purah pad and her towers just drive me more isnane bc they are the same shit but called different and also much worse, liek the purah pad isnt some more developed shiekah stone, no its a glorified camera with a teleport function and thats it
(i know i said this before but i really cant stand how obsessed every single NPC is with sonau shit, you get told to your face every second line of dialog that they are so cool and are so mysterious that it just makes me annoyed of them even more, the game is obsessed with shoving them everywhere and telling you over and over you too should obsess over them, they werent weird like that about the shiekah stuff in botw?? the biggesst talking point in botw was calamity ganon ..... which makes sense and in totk its like ... gan is mentioned what, in a newspaper article??? once???and then not even by name i think???)
aside from that big point which will never let me go, its also just .. its not moving forward anything, it actively walks BACK the progress that was made in botw, call me dumb but i dont really count moving one step up in the social roles of each race as a character development (for the side characters like the champions desc- ahem SAGES) but mainly zelda ... god how dirty she was done, totk pretty explicitely makes her regress any development she made in botw aside from she likes link uwu and some people like her too, but also not enough to notice that that weird zelda being all evil and weird isnt her (INLCUDING THE CHAMP- SAGES WHO YOU ARE SUPPOSEDLY FRIENDS WITH??? you dont have to be a genius to pick up on that my god, were you all given the mc dumbo potion or what)
she gets put back to square one, back into the little itty bitty princessy maiden role forced upon her by her royal parentage, this time rauru edition, back into a white little dress, back into the scared puppy eyed teenager, back into a situation she cant handle, back into losing everyone around her (tho honestly botw made me care more about rhoam than totk did about rauru), back into being forced to do a big sacrifice- but worse actually
in botw she went to FIGHT AND HOLD GANON IN THE CASTLE SO LINK HAD TIME TO RECOVER AND IT WOULDNT DESTROY THE LAND!! and you are telling me in totk rauru takes up her botw role and she bascially killed herself to ... restore the mastersword.
......... she ... she did that only to be a glorified version of the stone pedestal in the forest. and then she gets returned to normal itty bitty girly no problem via magic sparkle beam at the end and
DOESNT
EVEN
REMEMBER.
it really is just botw but worse, you even get yet another ghost king of hyrule to guide you around (rhoam did it better fight me ... we dont talk about the questionable choice to make himself darker skinned when posing as just some guy)
i honestly dont think i was ever truly taken aback by anythign that happened in botw, while in totk, the further i played, the more i had to fight with myself to keep the feeling of unease, disappointment and betrayal down
its such a god damn shame, totk should have stayed a DLC, i will forever mournfully dream of a game that explores more of the ancient shiekah, doesnt erase integral parts of the world, developes characters more instead of making them regress back and make them end up even less developed than at the start of the game, dives into buried secrets and mistakes of dark pages of history without giving into a weirldy nationalist(imperalisitc?) narrative and lets characters have some agency for once
if it werent for the yiga i might have actually considered refunding the game, just to be at peace with myself
anyway, aboslutely incoherent word vomit.
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ultrainfinitepit · 8 months
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Probably not the smartest move right before Angeltober, but I got Baldur's Gate 3. It's very fun so far!
Here is my Tav, she is a drow cleric named Charity. She was found and adopted by a cleric of Kelemvor and raised in a convent. Charity never knew her biological parents. Her name comes from being called that cleric's "charity case" and then the name Charity stuck.
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a-lonely-dunedain · 4 months
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I don't usually have "ships" but when I do I'm pretty chill about- *trips and all these fall out of my pocket*
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*frantically trying to shove drawings back in my pocket* oh gosh I um- look I'm actually super normal about them it's just- *another one falls out* aw geez--
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look I um- ok I lied I'm not normal about them. on the bright side, turns out getting obsessed with The Characters is a good motivation to get some much needed drawing practice in!
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angeart · 16 days
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omg grian ban au … actually obsessed with the concept, plus scar wasn’t even online during when it happened and so he comes online and grians not?? there anymore. and mumbo maybe kind of knows that it’s Not Good. or pearl, would she have a concept that something bad is happening? obsessed with this idea and how it resolves
see i didn't know who was online and who wasn't but the fact that scar wasn't online makes this so much better. to just come back and find that grian's gone? and gem tries to reassure him that he's probably just sulking or off doing his own things, even though her words ring hollow even to herself, and scar looks at her like, "what things?"
grian never goes off to do his things. not unless he's actively preparing a server for them to play on, and that's always planned in advance.
i think scar doesn't really know what's wrong and what exactly grian's been running from this whole time, but he knows enough to flag this as Not Good. it scares him, actually, even if he isn't sure what the danger is. every minute that grian isn't showing up makes him feel more and more worried.
but nobody else really wants to panic. right? they don't want to think it could be anything like that.
(they actually all worry that scar is right, they just don't know what they can do about it—finding a player Out There is near impossible. he could be on a private server, on a protected one, on someone else's server, so many options they'd be blind to. just like hermitcraft is protected so that nobody can reach them when they're there.)
(anyway grian's in none of those places anyway <3)
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a-tale-of-legends · 1 year
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:)
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siren-of-agony · 2 years
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Finally coming back to this blog at the same time as falling back into a magnus archives hyper focus def does not influence my relistening experience at all
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zonigiri · 1 year
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all this gojo on my dash + the interaction i had yesterday is making me want to write hate sex with borderline toxic gojo sooooo bad im gnawing cement rn
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that-one-gay-bitch · 9 months
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This poor girl working with me. She asked me about one of my special characters without knowing that I am very normal about them.
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screampied · 2 months
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if requests are open, can we see nanami x breeding kink? i know he would be the perfect daddy 💕
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❤︎ ໋𓈒 husband nanami finding out he has a breeding kink.
warnings. fem! reader, mating press, breeding kink, praise, soft dom nanami, mdni.
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breeding.
he wouldn’t even know he had such a kink until afterwards, finishing inside of you for about the third time with hot puffs of air running from his lips.
his eyes, dark brown pools that intently stared into yours, he’s in utter love with you and only you. your current position was supine—your legs would be perfectly sprawled and spread for him. mating press, such a deep and thorough angle. so deep to where you were practically seeing stars.
“… you drive me crazy, you know that?” he’d huff out lowly between rough breaths. you stare at him with glossy eyes, a hand softly clinging onto his wrist. he was always so gentle, deep yet precise strokes to make you feel every inch. such eyebrows of his curl up and furrow as he intakes a single sharp breath, the feeling of such thick ropes spewing inside your walls makes him groan. “always s—so good at milking me.”
sloppy hips thwack and drill into you, and that’s when he leans right up close to you—you’re met with lust filled fawn eyes and a needy smile.
“ah. eyes up here, wanna see that pretty face,” and his tempo was so unhinged. you glance up at him and he mutters off a soft, “hi my love,” and you could have just melted right there. nanami lightly presses a hand against your tummy, a thumb swiftly tracing near the exact spot where he was reaching you inside. so full, you moan before he leans in to kiss you, yet instead, he conceals his own whine into the crook of your neck. “this—tummy would look so pretty if it was nice ‘n round for me like last time.”
the very corners of your lips tugs, it outlines into a sweet pout before you whimper, “make me fuller then, kento,” you’d heave out. he was jackhammering such merciless yet tenderly passionate thrusts into your cunt, effortlessly smacking back against you. “wanna f-feel fuller.”
you had the white bed sheets bawl into the palms of your hands. everything felt so warm, his hips just continued to rotate and jerk and jerk and jerk. it was hypnotic, he knew just where to prod the head of his cock right against you.
you’re nearly drooling. just imagining such lengthy ropes of his pump you full. you wanted it, no—you needed it. desperately, you were practically being fucked into the mattress—the mattress in question creaked and sang in such harmony it was hard not to ignore its sounds.
the entire feeling, you were clamping down on him so tight that his jaw tenses. a simple sight like that was oh so sexy in the slightest, nanami lightly bites down on his lip. a cute flushed expression slowly painting over his face once he catches you still staring. he was chasing his own breath, giving you slow yet perfect full vivacious thrusts.
“k-kento,” you’d moan with a slight gasp, he brings a hand to slide your arms all the way up. it’s almost teasing, the way he makes you hold your hands high, a soft simper rests against his lips the entire time. your legs quaver, feeling how easy it was for him to stretch you out. his touch, it was blisteringly hot, blisteringly tender.
he made sure to delicately trace his fingers all over your skin. he wouldn’t dare miss a spot. not with a body as perfect as yours. that’s what he saw in his eyes anyway. “so—so goooood, don’t s-stop baby.”
“wasn’t gonna,” he huffs out, and his voice was so raspy and rich. a subtle coarse of baritone hidden underneath his deep tone. you peer up at him and he leans in to kiss the tip of your nose. “if my princess wants to feel more full, i’ll do just that. give her anything she wants.”
you whimper, feeling him hit such a sensitive angle, he hit it just right too.
the crown of his dick made its way through every crevice of your walls. he reached in spots that you didn’t think he’d reach — not at all, you failed to hide your moans by this point and he thought you sounded so cute. knowing he was the one to make you sound like this, feel this way, it made him happy. that’s all he wanted, your pleasure was his pleasure.
every. single. spot.
whilst your toes curled, you feel your back start to seemingly arch on its own before even more sweetened whimpers fly past your sheeny lips. “give m-me,” you started to speak. he raises a brow marginally, brushing a thumb against your lower lip before feeling himself about to bottom out. at that point, he was fully inside, you felt it and you only mewled out a candied, “give me another baby kento. please.”
“oh,” he softly murmurs, and his tongue playfully licks against your neck—a sweet lap, he savored your taste before teasingly starting to nibble.
“gonna give you triplets this time,” and he brings a hand down your chest, then towards your stomach, real slow. you moan once he gingerly lifts up your leg before giving your ankle a kiss. “this what you want, sweetheart? more of this? more of … me?”
“yes,” you pout, feeling your cunt just swallowing his hefty shack, his base smacks back and forth against you to where you’re almost giddy. you felt like you were on cloud nine, nanami’s strokes, his thrusts hell, his enticing rhythm had you nearly speechless. you let off a soft meek once the shivering cold metal of his watch band slithers against your skin.
the more he touched you, the more close you became to making yet another mess on him. of course, like the good husband he was, nanami would happily clean you up.
“y-yes, kento,” you repeat in a honeyed voice, by this point, your legs were well wrapped around his waist. fully having him in a secure lock, not ever thinking to let go, you couldn’t nor did you want to. he drove into your gummy walls so good that you let off the sugared most melodic moans right up against his earlobe. “want…..another baby.”
“i know you do,” he hushes, bringing a chaste kiss towards your collarbone. you swallow a thick imaginary lump that grew into your throat. only tiny squeaks would come out — you moaned, tightening your legs hold around him before you started to picture such fanciful things.
fanciful things like nanami pouring yet another a thick load into you, and as you’re deep in thought he’s doing just that. a gasp gets caught in his lips before he leans up close to you. his broad chest presses up against you before he groans. out of all the notorious enemies he’s had to fight, he was simply no match for your pussy. its grip had him being the one with his eyes nearly rolling back.
“f-fuck,” and you felt yourself throb, making direct eye contact with him. it was rare, yet hearing nanami swear was so infrequent.
it was the way he swore, spewing out such filthy words underneath his breath. long ruffled strands of messy hair nearly occluding his view of vision. he reaches to move some of his hair away from his face, just so he could get a good glimpse of you—a good glimpse of his wife.
“look at me,” he says in a soft tone, he was buried so deep within you, you saw how his muscles tensed and his jaw tightened. he made his hips come to a halt completely before he leans in to gift you with another kiss. “mwah,” he smooches near your jawline, “mwah,” near your chin, and a final kiss near your lips.
your heart, it fluttered.
nanami felt warm all over his body, as well as the sheer warmth that coated him from being inside you. “i—i love you,” you’d whine, feeling such massive velvet ropes of cum going all inside of you. he merely lets off a purr at the way the back of your heel skims down his back. “so much.”
“i love you,” he returns it. his mouth briefly opens, and he was about to say ‘more’ but he pauses. nanami’s weight was still hovering over you before he brings a same big hand down towards your tummy. “now, we wait. you’re such a good mommy for me, sweetheart.”
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cherryredstars · 6 months
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omg hold on i love you so much i hope you are well. so i was sleeping peacefully in my bed today and suddenly this came to mind and i found myself on the floor.
it doesn't necessarily have to be sub Miguel, but i NEED NEED NEED a reader who has a sex stamina higher than burj khalifa. so miguel gets frustrated and overstimulated by the time its over, whining and trying to push her off of his lap type of shit because its his 4th or 5th orgasm. BUT HE WON'T, YKNOW WHY? BECAUSE HE IS HORRNY. BECAUSE ITS SEX AND IT IS GOOD SEX LIKE GAD DAYMMM
thank you
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Pairing: Miguel O’Hara x fem!reader
Warnings: 18+, NSFW, Penetrative Sex, Overstimulation, Creampie, A Second of Fingering
Summary: Who is he to deny good sex?
Word Count: 725 (Not Edited)
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He doesn’t know how much more he can take. 
He’s surprised that he can even cum still. You’ve been at this for hours, greedily milking his cock and mewling at him. It’s fucking amazing. It’s like some shit his teenage mind would jerk off too. Some bizarre porn video concept. Except, this is real and he’s more of a mess than he thought he would be. 
He started out on top, fucking your desperate pussy until tears flowed from your eyes. He has the scratch marks on his back to prove it, raised and red. But after his second orgasm and your fourth, you still wanted more. But he was so tired, deeply satisfied as cock almost went numb from pleasure. But you looked so sad, giving him that cute little pout that he can never say no to. So, to summarize, his own weakness is to blame for his current situation. 
You’re desperately bouncing on his cock, no signs of slowing down. He’s flat on his back, moaning and groaning as he tries to get a steady grip on your hips. His cock is on fire, overstimulated and tired. It’s creamy with your combined cum, making loud squelches everytime you impale yourself on his dick. You won’t shut up, mouth dropped open as you scream and moan. Miguel is approaching his fifth orgasm, and he doesn’t know if there will be much cum left in him to fill you up with. 
“Fuck, fuck, mi querida, let up. Gonna actually milk me dry if you don’t fucking stop.” Miguel whines, his hand moving to press on your stomach in a weak effort to push you off.
You shake your head and whimper, holding his hand there with both of your own. You use your hold as leverage, still moving up and down on him. Miguel moans out when he can feel where he makes your skin bulge, his orgasm rushing down his spine. You’re whimpering out ‘please’ over and over again, eyes rolling to the back of your head as you finish. He feels the way your walls flutter and squeeze around him, earning a dying groan from him as it triggers his own release. 
His hips buck up weakly, spurting the very last drops of his cum into you. Both of you are panting, Miguel’s cock begging to be freed from your vice grip. You rotate your hips, softly mewling when his cock skims over your g-spot. Miguel protests as you work his cock, trying to hold your hips still to stop you. 
You lean down and kiss him, that hungry look still in your eyes, “So, so good, Miggy. That felt real good.”
Miguel can only hum in agreement weakly, his head thrown back against the sheets as he tries to regain himself. He gasps as you get up, slowly removing yourself off his cock with a soft pop. Miguel’s cock is semi-hard when he hits his stomach, still coated with cum. He can feel it softening further, his cock throbbing from overuse. 
Suddenly, you gasp loudly. It echoes off the walls, a sharp and unexpected noise. Miguel’s head shoots up to see if you’re hurt. 
Miguel groans when he sees and feels what had you gasping. You’re still hovering over him, knees on either side of his hips. Cum fucking flows out of you, finally being able to escape your flooded hole. It’s white and thick, running down your thighs and forming a puddle under you. It splatters on Miguel’s skin, and his cock jumps and hardens at the sight. Miguel lets out a tired sigh, grabbing your hips and stuffing a finger into you. You cry out, face blissed out as he fucks the cum back into you. 
“Fucking minx, you’re insatiable.” He grumbles, pulling his finger out and wiping it on the skin of your thigh. 
You whimper, quickly turning it into a scream as he seats you back onto his raw cock. His cock stings, fighting in protest. His body is tired and he’s sure he only has dry orgasms left in him. But he doesn’t seem to care, especially when you instantly start riding him again. It feels good, so good. Real good. He falls back into his weakness again, whining and cursing. 
He’s just a man after all, and what good man passes up on pornstar-level sex?
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after-witch · 5 months
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Two Birds One Stone [Yandere Gojo Satoru x Reader]
Title: Two Birds One Stone [Yandere Gojo x Reader[
Synopsis: Gojo Satoru follows you home. ‘Alone in the Dark’ follow-up.
Word count: 3000ish
notes: yandere, noncon sex, humiliation, misogyny against reader
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No one in your family, no one on the spacious estate--from the rotating guests down to the most menial of servants--believes that you are truly ill. Yes, your family let you return home without too many questions, let you bundle yourself in your room and come out only for meals that you leave as soon as it’s polite to do so. They offer to fetch the physician, and only smile indulgently when you insist that it’s a passing bug, you’ll be fine soon. 
They do all these things, while they know that you’re not really unwell. 
At least they grant you the mercy of not saying it out loud, at least for now, which is something you can appreciate. There is very little that you appreciate nowadays. 
There is a soft knock at the door. One of the maids, then. They were trained to knock politely.
“Yes?”
The door gently opens to reveal one of the newer hires. A modest girl with the ability to act demure and professional just as well as any of the seasoned women who were multi-generational hires, whose mothers-and-grandmothers-and-great-grandmothers had worked for your family.
“Miss, my lord and lady have sent me to inform you that you have a caller.”
You clear your throat.
“Ah, unfortunately, I’m not feeling very--”
It was her turn to clear her throat, interrupting you. It almost made you flinch. It was an unusual gesture, not one your parents would have allowed. It should have been trained out by now.
“My lord and lady have sent me with explicit instructions that you are to come to the parlor immediately, even if you are unwell.”
You bite back a sigh. It must have been someone from one of the other families, then. Maybe throwing out another potential marriage match for you--your mother had fretted, especially recently, that you should have already been married by now. 
The thought of sitting in that damned parlor and pretending like you weren’t constantly about to throw up from stress and shock made you want to tear your hair out. You should tell the maid to go away, and bury yourself under your blankets, and scream and scream because Gojo Satoru made you do something awful and the world was unfair and you thought he was your friend and--
No.
People like you didn’t have that luxury. So you force down your bile and half-heartedly make yourself presentable in the mirror, and follow the maid who escorts you down the hallway, out of the intimate private family rooms and into the grand hall that leads down to the parlor. 
She stops you before you reach the threshold of the open door, and you almost trip on your dainty house shoes. The maid looks back at you with an expression that is something in between demure and overwhelmed. The skin of her cheeks flushes pink. She leans in, as if you were friends, and whispers,
“Miss, it’s--it is Gojo Satoru who has called on you.”
The world seems to drop out entirely. Yet you only feel as if you are falling as you stand there, hand braced against the door frame, head spinning. All the while, the maid grins, unawares, no doubt impressed that her employer’s daughter has associations with someone so well-known. 
Sound pushes and pulls around you, distorting in  your shock, but it’s there, clear as day: his voice. And your parents’ voices, all elegant and honeyed. 
From your vantage point against the door frame, you can hear the trickling edges of their conversation.
“They were smart enough to ask me for some tips, and, well, how could I say no?”
Your mother’s voice oohs-and-ahhs. “No wonder we have seen improvement with them lately. All thanks to your generous tutelage, no doubt!”
You can practically hear the grin in Gojo’s voice.
“Well, it certainly helps that I like their company so much. Very much, in fact.” 
You can vividly imagine the look that your parents have probably just given one another even before you cross the threshold of the door and announce yourself, curtsying slightly to your parents, as you’ve been brought up to do. 
Gojo stands when you enter. Oh, the fucker. All etiquette and primness. Your stomach churns. If he wasn’t buttering them up, if he was anywhere else, if he wasn’t doing this to mock you, he wouldn’t be standing with his hands behind his back and a polite smile on his face. He’d be picking at his ear or lounging on the fine upholstery like it was some ratty college couch. 
Your mother is fluttering towards you in an instant, smoothing down the wrinkled bits of your clothing, fingers darting over your face, looking for blemishes, scratches, anything that needs to be hidden or fixed. 
When she’s satisfied, she lightly clasps your hand and leads you over to where Gojo and your father are standing. Your father greets you with a warm nod--unusual for him, but there is company, after all--and Gojo. Well. 
Gojo smiles. Softly. You think, if he had his way, he’d be grinning like a cat that caught the canary. But that would be too much, in front of your parents. Too uncouth. So instead, he smiles lightly and sweetly and it makes you want to bend over and expel breakfast on your mother’s expensive rug. 
“I’m happy to see you’re up and about,” he says. And then he reaches out and touches your shoulder. You stiffen.
You look to your parents--surely this is improper, surely they will say something--but your mother only presses her hand delicately to her lips and smiles.
Your head turns, slowly, back to Gojo. His smile widens.
“Don’t worry. I’ve told them about our private courtship. We don’t have to hide it anymore.”
The world should fall out from underneath you, but it stays stubbornly flat. 
Your lips open and you will say something to make him leave, you’ll tell your parents what he did or feign illness or--
His hands move to rest on your hips, and--you jolt. Fingers dig into the skin of your hips through your clothing. A painful pinch that tells you: hush.
“I think it’s appropriate for them to have a bit of privacy, don’t you?” Your mother asks coyly, looking at your father. He nods solemnly and takes your mother’s arm. You have never, in your life, wanted your parents to stay with you more than you do now.
But they walk away. As your mother shuts the door, she gives you something most rare: a look of approval. How can she not notice the widened worry in your eyes? The anxiety in your expression? The mere presence of Gojo Satoru shuts out everything but his golden glow, the promise of his connection with your family. 
The sound of the door shutting is like nails on a chalkboard.
You take the opportunity to jerk yourself away from him--to your surprise, he lets you. 
“What the hell are you doing here?” You hiss. 
Gojo puts his hands in his pockets and shrugs easily.
“You weren’t around, so I came to you.”
You hate the way he looks too casual. As if you’d ghosted him after a bad study session and not--not….
“Of course I wasn’t around,” you say, almost spitting. “You…” But you don’t say it. Shame washes over you, hot and sticky. 
The silence between you is just as warm, and you want to wash it off.
“Let’s go to your room for more privacy,” he offers. 
“No.” Flat refusal is the only thing you can think to do now. Just say no, no, no, until he gives up and leaves. 
Instead of leaving, he sighs, languid, and stretches his arms above his head. “Ah, your parents will be so disappointed that I left so early, after all that I talked you up.”
You hate him so much.
“C’mon,” he wheedles, when you don’t respond. “I just want to see where you grew up. Is that so bad?’
Show him your bedroom, make him leave. You cross your arms in front of your chest. “It’s nothing special. Just a room,” you mumble.
“Don’t say that!” Gojo reaches for you and ignores your flinch when he wraps his arm around your shoulder. “It’s your room, of course it’s special.”
Your stomach responds to his praise with a low roil, a remnant of how you might have responded to his compliments before all of this. 
--
“There,” you say, voice tight and short, as you gesture towards your bedroom. You pointedly leave the door open but Gojo doesn’t protest. 
It’s not the most impressive bedroom on the estate--that would be your parents’ room, followed by the siblings who managed successful sorcerer careers and have already had a few children. 
But it’s cozy, and it's yours, and for you that’s enough. You just wish Gojo wouldn’t contaminate it with his presence. He looks at everything, smiling, humming. He goes to read a journal open on your dresser and you rush to slam it shut. He jumps back with an exaggerated grin and apologizes. 
He doesn’t look and leave, like you hoped he would. Instead, he sits down on your bed and pats the space next to him.
“You said you just wanted to look.”
He pats the spot again. “I just want to ask about your training. Really quick.” The look you give him must be enough to kill, because he puts his hands in the air. “I promise, only a few questions about your training.”
Your legs tingle as you force them to move, one step at a time, to the bed. You sit next to him and the proximity makes you want to flee. But if you just do what he says and get this over with, he’ll leave. You can deal with your parents’ expectations about some courtship later.
He smiles when you sit. 
“So, any progress? Better? Worse?” He looks down at you through his glasses. “Be honest.” 
“I… I guess I have been getting better at concentrating,” you murmur. You’ve been forced to, really, since you didn’t want your parents to know about what happened. 
“Aw, see? I knew it would help!”
It. Is that what he calls what he did to you? Your throat hurts. 
“That’s not why you did it.”
Gojo has the audacity to quirk his head at you. It’s a gesture you know would make many women’s heart flutters. It just makes you want to close your eyes.
“No?”
You don’t respond, and after a moment, he gets up. It’s enough to make you sigh in relief. He’s leaving. He’ll be gone and you can figure out what to tell your parents and it will all be fine because--
But he doesn’t walk through the door.
Instead, he shuts it.
“Gojo--”
He gives you a look.
“No one will mind,” he tells you, voice light. “I’ll be quiet if you will.”
Your heart thuds, one, two, three.
“What do you mean?”
He looks at you as if you’ve asked him the stupidest question in the world. Maybe you did. Because he’s walking towards the bed now, forcing you to scoot backwards on it. You realize the vulnerability of your body in this position far too late, because before you know it, he’s crawling onto the bed with you.
“Wait--wait,” you sputter. “C-Can’t you just leave? Please?”
He leans over you and pins you down with the mere presence of his body.
“You’re so sweet, you know that?” He kisses your neck, and you crane it to the side, which only makes him kiss it more. “So cute. I’ve been thinking about you every day since then. Every hour. Every minute.” His kisses grow more numerous, on your shoulder, up your neck, your cheek, finally resting just above your lips.
“Gojo, stop.” He’s so close that your breath ghosts his skin, puffs against his lips.
“I’ve been thinking about the faces you made,” he says, voice dropping an octave. The words slink out of him like a snake. “How sweaty you got. What you looked like with your come all over that pretty face.”
If your cheeks get any hotter, you’ll get ill. You know it.
“Stop it,” you whisper, but your lips brush against his and he takes the opportunity to capture you in a kiss. 
The distraction is enough to keep you from thinking about his hands, to keep you from being aware of his fingers unlacing the buttons of your blouse, of how he slides your arms out of the sleeves. You’re only wearing a thin morning camisole underneath, and the sound of it shredding breaks through the unwanted kiss. 
“Gojo--” You say, or want to say, but all your words are muffled against him. 
Saliva trails from his mouth--you want to gag--when he pulls away. “Satoru,” is all he says. 
He’s taken off your shirt. He’s ripped your undershirt. You’re lying underneath him, ample chest bared, and he’s not going to get off you.
His fingers find your nipples and give them an unceremonious tweak. 
“Don’t!”The word comes out too loud, too shrieky, and both of you still in the silence that follows.
You expect him to get off you now. You expect him to realize the danger of being found out and take the opportunity to leave; ego bruised, perhaps, but still--he would be gone.
Instead, he grins at you. “I thought you wouldn’t want anyone to come in and see us? Ah, but…” He rolls your nipples in between his fingers, and you jerk on the bed at the strange, electric feeling that shoots in between your legs. “Maybe you want to get caught?”
You press your lips firmly together--be quiet, you tell yourself, be quiet!--and shake your head. 
He continues to roll your nipples, and your hips squirm against the feeling. “I think you do,” he muses. “You know, if someone did waltz in here while I’m balls deep in you, we’d have to get married.”
You practically choke on the unexpected sliminess of his words. But perhaps not so unexpected, considering what he was doing. 
“Wh--What?” You hiss.
Gojo looks at you like you’re dumb--cute. But dumb. “I mean, your family is traditional, no? I don’t think they’ll let me deflower you and not make an honest woman out of you after that.” He spreads his fingers out and gropes the plump flesh of your breasts with his hands; his palms brushing against your hardening nipples makes you bite back a sigh. 
“I mean--I meant--we’re not doing, I don’t want to do--”
He leans forward and rubs his nose against your cheek. “Don’t worry, I’ll go easy on you. I like foreplay.”
“Foreplay?” You ask, helplessly, naively. 
“Fuck, that’s cute,” he sighs. He begins to rub at your nipples with his thumbs, and there’s a warm, prickling sensation in them that makes your toes begin to curl.  “You know how many times I jerked off thinking about these tits?”
“Stop,” you say, breathy. It feels good, and you hate it, but it doesn’t hurt--it doesn’t hurt, at least. That’s what you tell yourself to keep your mouth from screaming.
He ignores your words and squishes your breasts together with his hand, making them balloon almost comically.
“They’re so big, you know?” He pushes and pulls them apart. “How do you even stand up with these things?” 
Humiliation blooms in  your throat.
“Don’t be mad,” he says. “I’m not trying to insult them.” He sighs, then, and goes back to rubbing your nipples with his fingers, eliciting a whimper from your lips. “They’re gorgeous. Nice and big…”
Another whimper, this one louder, making you press your palm against your mouth.
“Feels good, doesn’t it?” He leans down, peering over his glasses. “Feels good when my fingers play with your tits?”
It does. You shake your head. But it does.
Gojo tsks lightly. You feel one hand leave your breast and reach down, down--sliding underneath the waistband of your skirt. Your body lurches but he’s too heavy and strong and you can’t move, even as he swipes his fingers down your underwear. You can feel the way his digits meet some slickness, smearing it around on the other side of the fabric.
“Your mouth can lie, but down here… you’re leaking.”
Your heart lurches with the memory of your leaking cursed energy, with the memory of the hard floor--and with the knowledge that it’s happening again. 
Without fanfare, he grabs the waistband of your skirt and begins to shimmy it down. You kick and struggle, little noises escaping your lips that surely aren’t loud enough to be heard outside the walls. But it doesn’t matter. He’s stronger than you. 
Your underwear goes down next, and you cringe at the feeling of wetness clinging to the soft material as he peels them down your legs. With your clothes gone, it’s easy for him to grip your upper thighs and pull them apart, exposing you directly to him.
“Gojo--” Your throat is dry and your words hoarse.
“Your pussy is prettier than I remember,” he says, ignoring your protests, ignoring the way your legs squirm. “Look--did your clit just twitch? Is it saying hello?” He smiles up at you, stupidly, and some part of you wonders if he really thinks you’ll laugh at what he’s saying. All you can do is swallow against rising bile.
“I was going to eat you out until you squealed first,” he begins, voice low. “But I don’t think I can wait. Besides, you look wet enough.” He rubs his thumb against your clit and you slap your hand back against your mouth at the sudden jolt of pleasure. 
You know what he’s doing, even if you don’t want to admit it. You know before he reaches down and shoves his pants down around his ankles. You know before his boxers come down next. You know before you see his cock, hard like the last time.
How in the world is that going to fit inside you? You think. You feel, dimly, your privates clench and twitch at nothing.
“Your body is eager,” he tells you, cooing. “Even if you pretend that you’re not.”
“I’m not,” you murmur. He doesn’t listen. Your fingers grip the sheets of your body and you think dimly about what you’ve heard about sex. All you know is that you weren’t supposed to have it with anyone but your husband, lest you produce unwanted bastards to soil your family’s good name. Your mother had taught you all about the value of your “flower,” the importance of being chaste and virtuous. 
And here you are, splayed on your bed, with Gojo about to take it all away from you.
You let out a whimper when he leans forward and rubs the tip of his cock in your folds. It’s thick and warm. 
“Gojo,” you say, voice tight.
“Satoru,” he chides, sweetly. “I’m about to fuck you, honey, you can call me Satoru.” 
You press your lips together and tighten your fingers on the sheets as he finally moves his hips forward, pressing his cock inside you, slowly.
It hurts. Enough that tears prick at the edges of your eyes, and you let out a soft, pained keen.
Gojo’s there, kissing you, as soon as it leaves your lips. His fingers brush away your tears even as he pushes forward, filling you up more, stretching you. The ache deepens, there’s a sting with it--you wonder if you’ll bleed, like your sister says she did, on her wedding night.
It doesn’t stop once he’s inside you. He pulls his hips back--there’s a brief relief from the feeling when he’s mostly out--before he pushes back in, and the ache reignites, making you jolt and whimper against his lips.
“Shh,” he tells you. One of his hands trails down your stomach, down your thigh, to rest against the top of your sex. His thumb begins to rub out slow circles, and an unwanted aching pleasure begins to build there. 
It doesn’t make the pain go away. It doesn’t make the humiliation go away. All it does is introduce a sick sort of pleasure that makes you feel worse about yourself. How could you like this? It should be impossible, for your body to begin to feel a low, rolling pleasure that cuts through the pain–cuts through the horror–of what’s happening to you.
You whimper, bubbling out a little cry, and Gojo presses sweet kisses to your cheeks.
“That’s it, that’s my girl, you like that, don’t you?” The sweetness of his words is underscored by the wet sound of his cock thrusting inside you, by a faint slapping sensation against you every time he does. 
But you do like it. Or your body does, and you’re not sure what the difference is, splayed on your bed, all warmth and sweat and aches. Gojo’s thumb presses deeper and your mouth opens–you gasp and he swallows your noises in a kiss, not letting up until his thumb is rubbing hard enough that your body arches and there’s a coil snapping inside you.
You grunt, animal-like, into his mouth. He grunts right back and shame curls over you, even as your body spasms in forced bliss. You can feel yourself clenching around him, as if you wanted him, as if you were trying to make the sex better for him.
He doesn’t pull away until you’re done clenching around him, and you shut your eyes for a moment to avoid looking at the almost dopey, pleased expression on his face.
The realizations hit you like slaps  in the wake of your orgasm. 
He made you orgasm. It felt good. You liked it, you hated it. You want more, you never want it again. 
You just lost your virginity--still losing it, he’s not done–the precious commodity that your mother told you to guard well--on your bed. Before marriage. Before you were even in love. Before anything. 
How could it be any other way, with Gojo Satoru? He takes, takes, takes. Takes what he wants because he can, because he knows it belongs to him, if he wants it. You, included. 
There’s a gentle pat on your cheek and you realize Gojo is patting you, tapping you like he might a dazed sorcerer whose head met the rough end of concrete during a fight.
“Don’t get lost on me, now. Look at me… hey, you still here?”
“Yes,” you whisper, although it comes out more stuttered than you’d like with the shake of your body as he thrusts.
He plants a sloppy kiss on your mouth and moves faster. It hurts, still, but some of the more pressing sting is gone. Instead it’s an uncomfortable, new ache. 
“You look so good like this, y’know?” His hands go from your cheeks to your breasts, and he squeezes them. “All ready to be filled up.”
His words take a moment to make any sense--and even then, you’re still not quite sure.
“Fill me… up?”
His thrusts get faster, and you hear your own breath stuttering stupidly as he fucks you. “Like I said--” His words are half-panting, but you get the feeling that they needn’t be; he only wants to seem undone, you think. “Want to fuck you. Want to breed you.” His hands squeeze your breasts, kneading at the flesh. “You’ll get real big, won’t you? With a baby in your stomach, just one at first, but--” He starts to speed up now, and you see a faint redness on his cheeks. “Fuck, who knows how many we’ll have.”
Cold fear clenches your stomach tight, and you resist the primal urge to gag.
“My-my parents,” you plead. Your parents would never let this happen, would they? Not if you told them the truth?
Gojo leans above you, looking down at you with a lascivious expression as he begins to thrust faster, making your breasts wobble with the motion.
“Your parents already approve. They feel honored, and they should, that I want to marry you. Have kids with you. Merge our bloodlines. Might have to fudge the due date, if this takes, but…” 
He doesn’t finish his sentence. Instead, his head veers down towards yours, and his lips practically crash into your mouth as he kisses you and presses himself deep inside you. He groans into your mouth and a warm, gooey feeling blossoms inside you at the same time. He came–inside you. You knew enough to know that was a bad thing, as far as potential pregnancies went. 
When he pulls back from the kiss, he pulls back his hips, and something warm trickles out with his cock. It’s an awful feeling. The soreness, the wetness. The feeling of being used.
“Couldn’t have done it without you,” he says, voice tinged with something warm and breathy. “Did you like that? Making me come?” 
You don’t answer.
Gojo doesn’t seem to mind. He flops down next to you and catches his breath.
“We should go back out there pretty soon,” he says airily. “They’ll be expecting us. Your parents, that is.”
Your voice is a croak. “What do you mean?”
Gojo leans up on his elbows and gives you a cheeky grin. “Oh, I forgot to tell you! I told your parents I was staying for dinner. Figured I’d work up an appetite in here… plus we can tell them all about our engagement over dessert. Two birds, one stone?”
You don’t answer. Instead, you stare up at the ceiling, with its ornamented paintings. Pretty flowers and trees that your mother picked out when you were a baby.  You had no input in it, just like you have no say in anything now. 
No birds on the ceiling. 
There are only the stones in the pit of your stomach, waiting to be retched up. 
2K notes · View notes
pseudowho · 3 months
Note
As usual, I have no one to talk about this but... Have you seen those "mom instincts are cool, but let's talk about dad reflexes for a sec" vids???
Kento with dad reflexes? (Pretty sure he already has it when he's single or even in canon when Yuji is accompanying him in missions lmao)
I'm just in my bed giggling, kicking my feet because I can imagine him having those like when his baby girl would trip and he moves so FAST to catch her 🥹🥹🥹🥹🥹 man idk where I'm going with this it's just making me go skkdkddkdjd
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The footsteps were slow, slick, echoing-- considered. At this stage, Kento didn't know if he and Yuuji were being hunted, or if they were the hunters. He suspected both.
The mansion fell apart around them, broken pipes lazily spewing sewage and muck. Kento felt the softly yielding floorboards beneath his feet, aware that if he wasn't careful, the second floor would very quickly become the first floor and--
"Oi, Nanamin!" Bounding, youthful footsteps hopped up beside Kento, who felt and heard the repercussions up the walls, the crack in the floorboards, the imminent collapse--
With the barest flash of movement, the floor beneath Yuuji's feet was missing, and Yuuji hung by his collar in Kento's iron grip, slowly rotating in the air as floorboards rumbled away with distant clatters. Otherwise, silence. A mildly dismayed hum from Kento, as he twizzled his blade in his other hand.
"Wow, Nanamin! Good refle--"
"Please make sure I do not have to use them, Itadori-kun."
"Ah...yeah."
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Curse-killing on a moving Subway train in the middle of the night wasn't the sort of overtime Kento needed...but when he heard the mission had been given to you, and you alone, he felt a sickening twist of anxiety in his gut. Not that you knew how he felt.
Kento bridled with incandescent rage, seeing you tumble down the rattling carriage, pinballing between poles and seats. Your fatal blow to this filthy Curse was not fatal quickly enough.
"Come on! It's dead, time to--" Kento's call was cut short, sensing imminent disaster as you kicked the door through on the opposite end of the carriage, and the Curse staggered into the walls, making the carriage list sideways, making you list sideways at the open door in your bullet-shot speed through this gloomy tunnel--
All at once, you felt yourself falling from the moving train, rolling and tumbling but wrapped up in something so warm that smelled so good.
You rolled to a stop, still full-body bear-hugged by Kento. You lay under him for a moment, face to chest through the torn off buttons of his shirt. He unfolded you with a soft sigh, hands and knees planted either side of your head and hips.
"Wow, Kento. Good refle--"
"Dinner, I--...we should go out for dinner."
"Oh. Like...now?"
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"Daddy, watch this--"
One little blonde girl, suspended and giggling upside down, caught. Kento, sighing, holding her by her ankle by the tree she was almost certainly too small to climb.
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"Jump, jump, jump, jump, ju--"
A full-suited barrel-roll across the living room, a near-miss with a tiny head and a coffee table corner. The boy peered sheepishly up at his daddy, whose narrow brown eyes glowered down in silent disapproval.
"Daddy, I was jumpi--"
"Hush. Be more careful."
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"I'll race you--"
"No, I'm winning I'M WINNING I'M---"
A flash of movement. One little boy and one little girl, hunched over and suspended by the backs of their jeans, spinning and surprised.
Kento grunted once, loaded down with shopping bags, hooking the boot of the car up with one foot, his keys between his teeth. He spat his keys onto the seat.
A truck barrelled past, its driver certainly not looking for little people. Kento grunted again, dropping children and shopping bags.
"Do not-- I repeat, do not run in the car park."
"...sorry daddy."
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You reached out towards Kento, seeing something glimmer in the honey-blond of his hair. His hand snapped up, grasping yours reflexively round the wrist. He let go immediately, apologetic.
"Sorry, I--...rough day with the kids." You smiled, stroking his cheek, and he leaned into your soft palm, planting a kiss there. Your gaze wandered to his hair again. Kento raised an eyebrow at you.
"What?"
"You've, uhm...got a grey hair."
Silence. A moderately dismayed hum.
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I agree. Nanami Kento has dad reflexes.
-- Haitch xxx
1K notes · View notes
helluvapoison · 4 months
Text
Nice To Eat You
[ii]
The Vees x Cannibal!Reader
warnings: drugs, suggestive, rosie slander, dark themes, violence, security shenanigans and, hello, cannibalism
heads up: if you didn’t know, the people of cannibal town are hellborn; born in hell, never lived on earth, never sinned! their life spans are unknown(?) but seem to age as a human would, unlike other demons
Cannibal town has been off limits to The Vees, courtesy of Vox, ever since the incident with you know who. Meeting you was a suspicious surprise for them. You were kicked out of said town by Rosie for giving cannibals a bad name. Can you fucking believe the irony!?
ʕ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʔ
˚✧₊⁎ Vox ⁎⁺˳✧༚
• Suspicious might be an understatement
• For the longest time, Vox is unnerved by you for every other reason than your appetite. Anyone associated with Rosie is an adversary by proxy. If you take Alastor out of the picture, Rosie is still an Overlord and all Overlords will inevitably crumble to The Vees– even if they don’t know it yet
• There’s an expression for that though, isn’t there? Keep your enemies close. That’s exactly how Vox went about dealing with you
• Gives you a job as his security guard. Hell knows he needs one, what with the price of fame and all, those dirty fucking sinners that try and touch him wherever he goes
• It’s a slow development because neither of you initiate conversation
• Vox is beyond used to the rotating door of demons in and out of his life. He abandons the names of anyone that isn’t you, Velvette or Valentino (Angel Dust and Alastor he can’t forget against his will)
• Becoming attached to you while simultaneously waiting for the other shoe to drop is fucking awful. It feels it like a bug in his system, annoys him to the point his screen starts glitching one day
“Just what the fuck are you up to!? I know you’re with Rosie–”
You knew, on some level, Vox didn’t trust you all the way but it didn’t bother you because he hardly seems to trust anyone. So you cut him off with a mix of a snort and a scoff,
“Rosie? Rosie’s a cunt. She gave me the boot years ago, haven't seen her since.”
Involuntarily, he begins to smile, “Years, huh?”
• Trust is another slow endeavor. Now that Vox doubts your motives slightly less than before, he can silently appreciate the fact you do a damn good job of keeping demons away from him. Bonus: if you happen to take a chunk out of them for shits and giggles, blood never touches his pristine self
• “I believe I owe you an apology,”
“Am I going to get one?”
• In a way, sure, but you’ll be sorely disappointed if you thought it was with words. He invites you to dinner. From that moment until you arrive at the restaurant, he’s reveling in the constant state of shock you seem to be in
• Your eyebrows jump when the waiter nervously lifts the lid from your plate and reveals ribs. Real, demon ribs
“Surprised?” Vox asks rather smugly
“Somewhat,” You return his sly smirk, “Most can’t stomach my… indulgences.”
“I don’t have a stomach. I think I’ll be just fine.”
˚✧₊⁎ Velvette ⁎⁺˳✧༚
• Vel doesn’t give two steaming shits about Rosie or her backwards, unflattering town so long as it doesn’t interfere with her enterprise. Vox’s grudges are his own. If The Vees got hellbent and demented over each other’s EOTD (Enemy Of The Day) nothing would get done!
• During a pathetic comment war on the her social, a few threats became too detailed for Vox’s liking
• A cannibal wasn’t his first choice– or second, or third– but you’d certainly scare off anyone trying to hurt his business partner!
• Velvette’s far from worried about being lunch when she meets you.
• “You’re my–? No. Absolutely not! I can’t be seen with this.” She gestures to all of you
“You’re not exactly making me drool either,” You mutter under your breath
• Judging by the looks of her partners’ faces, stunning Velvette to silence was impossible. Key word: was
• It didn’t last long and hasn’t stopped since
• She pulled out every trick in the book to get you to quit. She gave you a uniform to wear during your shifts, tossed fabrics at you until you turned into a living clothes rack, forced you to hold her phone during her live streams but criticized and berated the way you did
• For fucks sake, she even screamed at Vox to let her fire you!
• You didn’t need her to like you and that was as obvious as it was infuriating. She was Velvette! Everyone loved her! Having you around was like a black eye; literally bruising her ego and bad for business
• Or so she thought
• She made you stand in the shadows of her studio so you wouldn’t frighten anyone and ruin photoshoots with your “freaky face” she so eloquently put it.
• Velvette was mid fashion crisis, yelling at Joanne for the gazillionth time, when you approached from behind
“I’m taking my lunch.”
“Fucking fantastic! Here, have Joanne since she insists on being fucking useless!”
Playing along, you let a guttural growl rip from your throat, making Joanne jump high in the air.
She squeaked and shook her head vigorously, holding her hands in surrender, “I-I’ll be better, I swear!”
• Her candy cane eyes widened in delighted surprise. How had she been so blind to your potential usefulness!?
• Velvette could get high off the new game she created with you. It was like having a scary guard dog– only better dressed to aesthetics. Paparazzi didn’t dare touch her now, standing at a respectable distance that made her more unattainable and desirable than before
• Her attitude change makes her like-able to you too, she’s heaps more pleasant to be around now. You don’t mind doing the extra stuff that wasn’t in your contract like being a dress up doll, dealing with the pet names or escorting her to events. She knows and takes advantage of this instead of saying how she feels
• “You’re my arm candy now, dollface! You go where I go.”
“I hardly think I qualify as arm candy,” You mumble to her, overtly aware of how she holds you close to her
“If you’re fishing for compliments, fuck off to another pond. I don’t waste my free time with uggos,” She says seriously, abruptly smiling as a camera flashes in her direction, “Now get ready. Fans have been dying to get a picture with me lately and if anyone smudges this dress with their dirty fucking fingers, I want you to bite them off!”
“Anyone that touches you won’t have hands tomorrow,” You promise
• You swear she shivers upon hearing that
˚✧₊⁎ Valentino ⁎⁺˳✧༚
• The easiest by far to get along with. In a mortifying way
• Val is fairly accepting of all Hell’s creatures. It’s typically followed up by something sexual but, hey, you’re not in a position to complain, not when no one else in Hell would willingly sign up to work with a cannibal. Especially one outside the confines of Rosie’s civil town
• Rosie’s loss is his gain
• You would be lying if you said you weren’t expecting him to turn horror-struck but he barely blinks when you explain what you did to get exiled. Your savage methods intrigue him, a plethora of potentials just waiting to be explored. In fact, he goes a step further to praise you for being different
• “Hell would be deathly boring if everyone thought the same way, darling. That’s what makes you so… alluring.” He rolled his tongue with the last word, dragging it out and making it ring in your ears
• You’d been called many things in your afterlife, but never that
• You feel rather useless at the moth’s side. You were supposed to be protecting him but he could take care of himself just fine. Val was about the tallest in every room (if not the tallest) with guns hidden under his coat that he never used
• Later you’d understand he only reached for them as a last resort, when his head was unclouded by blood lust
• If you ever voiced your complaints, he’d be quick to reassure you that you make him look good. What powerful Overlord doesn’t have bodyguards? (Do. Not. Answer.)
• However the day does come when you prove your services have merit. On set of all places! A coked up Hellhound didn’t take kindly to Val’s directions, sending a demon wielding a boom mic flying towards him
• Valentino dodged the demon with ease, whipping around and aiming his pistol to put the dog down. Instead he saw you pushing the mutt’s face into the ground, his arm pinned at an angle. Your sharp teeth were bared at his throat, drool dampening his fur
• But you made no moves without Valentino’s say-so
• There’s a lot he could say about the scenario you provided him and how it made him feel– but he only calls your name, beckoning you back to his side
• Where you belong
• “You’re lucky I don’t like hair in my food,” You growl in the Hellhound’s ear before following after Val
• Valentino may be a mastermind of porn and sex but he knows the real way to a demon’s heart, it’s is the universal love language
• Unbothered by blood, he’ll sit pretty and poised on his loveseat while you tear into the meal he provided you. A thanks for a job well done
• “You’ll never go hungry now that you’re with me, monstruo,” The pet name is dripping with adoration, “I won’t waste you like that bitch did. Look at you, you’re already so special.”
~
╰(*´︶`*)╯♡ i lost the request that went to this but i hope it reaches them. cannibal!reader got that rizz, huh?
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vivwritesfics · 2 months
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you definetly have to do a Carlo Sainz x reader, "sickness pass" for his appendix. where reader takes care of Carlos and he takes advantage (he's clearly fine but he use this sickness pass to make her what he wants)🔥🔥🔥🌶️🌶️ of course with smut in it.
I GOT THIS SO LONG AGO IM SO FUCKING SORRY
warnings: smut, riding, not very sexy, unprotected sex, face riding
(also this picture oh my)
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"Carlos, I'm not having sex with you," she said with a smile, but there was a warning edge in her voice.
Carlos pouted at her. "Think of it as part of my recovery," he said with a pout. "It'll help me get back in the car quicker."
"No!" She insisted, kissing his head.
His pout only grew. "Please?" He asked again. "I won't ask again until I'm completely better."
She shook her head. "Bloody insatiable," she muttered.
But she threw off her shirt and climbed on top of him. He was grunting, eyes shutting in pain before she had even put his full weight on him. "Carlos, if you're going to be in pain, I'm not going to have sex with you."
Carlos opened his eyes and pouted. He knew exactly how to get to her to do whatever he wanted. "Please, Hermosa," he said through his pout.
With a sigh (one she definitely didn't mean), she bunched up her skirts, pushed her panties to the side, and sank down onto him. "If this slows down your recovery, you can't blame me," she said before she began riding him.
It was slow, careful. She was constantly watching Carlos's face for any sign of pain. It was so hard to get into the moment when she was constantly trying to make sure he was okay.
But this was for Carlos. She was determined to bring him pleasure. He moaned, gripping her hips, helping her to move slightly faster. But then he flinched and she slowed again.
"C'mon, hermosa," he said as he opened his eyes.
As much as she wanted to lean down and kiss him, she couldn't. Not without causing him pain. Instead, she grabbed his hand from her hip and lifted it to her lips, kissing the back of it. "Let me control the pace," she whispered.
He gave a desperate nod and she began moving again, rocking her body against his own. Carlos was still moaning, and she allowed herself to get a little bit lost in it, speeding up slightly.
Finally letting her take control, Carlos allowed himself to get closer and closer to the edge. He couldn't stop himself from bucking up towards her, desperate to push himself over the edge, to paint her insides, but he had to bite back a hiss of pain.
If she saw it, she didn't say anything. Her hands lightly rested on his chest as she rotated her hips.
Carlos bucked up again, but this time it was only a small movement. It didn't bring him pain, but it did push him over the edge. He came, painting her insides.
As soon as he was finished, she climbed off of him. Carlos opened his eyes and stared at her. "You didn't finish," he said, wearing his third pout of the night.
A pout which she kissed off. "I don't mind," she said, putting her panties back in place, holding his cum there.
But Carlos shook his head. "Sit on my face," he said.
She was only happy to oblige.
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pixeljade · 1 month
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Laios/Kabru is such a funny ship to me because there's precisely ZERO chance Laios is interested in a non-monster romantically or sexually, but also, he's absolutely got the exact balance of "wanting to please those around him" and "having no clue what constitutes human romance/friendship" that Kabru could be like "Hey I have decided I'm OBSESSED with you and DO YOU WANT TO MAKE OUT???" and Laios would probably have a thought process like "Huh. Is making out normal for best friends slash royal advisor and king? I dont actually know! But I trust Kabru and I want him to like me so...sure!" And this could slowly and steadily escalate to a full relationship while Laios is just sitting there like "Haha we're besties. :) such good friends!!" And eventually Kabru mentions casually that they're dating and Laios has a short crisis about it, before realizing that it doesnt matter too much and he enjoys spending time with Kabru even if theres not actual attraction beyond platonic on his end, and Laios just. Decides SURE I guess we're dating haha!
Meanwhile from Kabru's perspective, each step of the way, he's overanalyzing every fucking interaction. He gets one-word answers from Laios sometimes and spends days agonizing over it only to find out that Laios was just distracted rotating different monsters in his empty head, and didnt mean anything by it. Both of them are so utterly clueless in such completely different ways and they'd LOOK like just a regular couple to most onlookers but anyone who knows them even a little would know the MASSIVE WELL OF TENSION underneath the surface. I imagine that Kabru ends up going to Marcille & Falin's place to drink and ask for advice quite often, which mostly turns out as Marcille saying "MY BROTHER-IN-LAW IS A DUMBASS WHY DO YOU EVEN LIKE HIM STOP COMING HERE I WANT TO GET BACK TO SMOOCHING FALIN" and Falin giggling and being like "You're doing fine sweetie :)" knowing her brother is absolutely going to go with the flow straight into marriage with this nerd who once wanted to murder them
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