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#but also sometimes i assume he made it up and he didn't!!
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A lightee ask than usual but do you have any food or eating habit thoughts?
Ooohooohh, I did a whole ass seminar on the history of food. Failed it because I almost bled to death but I got to keep all the material! I've got.... a lot of thoughts and feelings about food culture. Too goddamn many, tbh. This got really long so I'll have to do a part two for other characters if wanted but lol enjoy.
Alfred:
 —Actually pretty gourmet little shit when he's got time and effort. He's made food Maria loves so often she has to give up on pretending she didn't enjoy it because fucking hell, he makes good chilaquiles after they've been drinking and fucking. There is, however, a non-zero chance he hasn't eaten a vegetable since the Nixon administration.
 —With that combustion engine metabolism, he's also perpetually hungry, so he eats whatever is around him. His guts do not like this, especially when it's a lot of dairy.
 —He has that kind of lactose intolerance that's tied to his health and stress, so if he's been particularly freaked out lately, he'll remind the world of his nuclear arsenal when he's got to use the toilet after that triple cheeseburger with a side of deep-fried cheese curds.
 —He's a stress eater too. He eats every negative emotion he's ever had especially when he's trying not to binge drink or do drugs.
 —He’s exceptionally food-motivated. They didn’t call one of his first major historical eras ‘the starving time’ without reason. He has preferences, but food is also food, and he’ll genuinely enjoy it in most forms as long as it's not rotten or otherwise godawful. Cowboy coffee and beans for ten days straight, and he will genuinely be the only man on that cow trail not sick of it by the end.
 —This also goes into why he’s so generous with food. He’s big on homemade food. He’ll make a whole big ass batch of like some sort of mac and cheese, and all the neighbours will get a big ol’ bowl of it with an ‘oh just return the Tupperware whenever,’ and it will genuinely be one of the best things they’ve ever eaten in their lives. Europeans recoil in horror, but our portion sizes are almost never single servings. It’s a generosity and hospitality practice except drinks. He really will down like a 2 liter of Slurpee in a single sitting.
 —He doesn’t mind eating alone. Actually prefers it sometimes. He loves eating in his car. American frontier culture, especially mountain men, had an often hyper-individualized, almost mythic culture of spending long periods alone in the woods and not being very sociable; thus a lot of situations where single servings were a thing, eating alone in quiet without something to do can be a real goddamn luxury.
 —He’s a really big protein guy with his metabolism. Sometimes exists on protein shakes but is more often a beef or barbeque or ham or alligator jerky. And a somewhat chunky Alfred is a healthy Alfred. A perfectly cut no flab Alfred is an Alfred who might be severely dehydrated and on several kinds of uppers.
 —He has better tastes than Arthur who didn't really realize food was supposed to taste good until like ten years ago but his combinations can be equally wild and unappetizing as they are batshit tasty.
—He loves spicy food. He's got so many opinions about hot sauces.
—He’s always hungry. If he isn’t hungry or turns down food, its genuinely a bad sign. If he turns down anything or just is just picking at it his food alarm bells should be sounding. He’s either about to declare war or puke all over the table or keel over dead. Peckish or food coma is his default state. Like if he was a smaller guy someone would say he’s got a binge disorder but he’s tall and beefy so he’s pretty okay.
 —Incredibly adventurous eater too. People will assume since there’s that old school culture of Anglo-American who eats the same 7 meals every week and might keel over dead if the meatloaf is slightly different he’ll be a bit hard to please but then he’s absolutely charmed by everything from Korean kimchi to Lithuanian Lašiniai.
 —He loves anyone who feeds him, just got to be a bit careful because he’s got surprisingly delicate stomach for the world superpower.
 —That American obsession with authencity means he’s surprisingly good at remembering people’s food culture or eating norms. He figured out chopsticks in ten seconds and quickly picked up the cues and manners of eating in any given culture. Still struggles with modulating his voice and personality, so he can often come across as rude, but he's so excited to do so. It's almost frustrating how happy he is to try and adapt to people around him and how happy he can be to fit in.
Matt:
 —He's a very good cook when he's putting in effort for other people, but he's not really like Alfred, who he'll make a whole ass meal for one just to relax on a Sunday.
 —He does tend to eat more vegetables than Alfred, but only because his northern vitamin deficiency has him binging them when he can afford them or they're available during the summer.
  —He can be weirdly picky on his own, but no one ever really needs to ask about his favourite food or how he likes anything because he always just goes with the flow around other people. “Just get me whatever you’re getting.” comes out of his mouth often.
 —There's a lot of sour cream/crema and yoghurt/coconut milk involved when he eats Mexican or Indian food for as much as he loves it.
 —Katya was singlehandedly responsible for his ability to maintain a normal weight during the 20th century by adding rye bread and perogies/vyrenki to his diet. He craves mushroom-umami flavours when he misses her, which is most of the time.
 —When he’s normal and eating the Anglo-North American diet, but he isn’t always eating it, he gets some strong sugar cravings, especially when he’s west of Manitoba. He’s as fond of birch syrup as a flavour as he is maple; there’s just less production. But the kind of deprivation he got and his own tendencies to not eat sometimes cause white sugar to just straight-up burns.
 —There's very much something of François to Matt's dietary habits, but less in his personal tastes and more in that he might be more sensitive to flavours. He has that kind of discerning and slightly oversensitive palate, but he’s a shitty perpetually broke frontier settler colony. He knows better/feels too guilty/is too embarrassed of himself to really indulge it.
 —He kept too much of his peasant communalism in his eating habits. Where Anglo-American communities did have a lot of cooperation, communal eating was a special occasion. The norm was based on the individual household. In contrast, French Canadian habitants still technically lived on medieval land plots and owed labour to a lord while also having a culture of seasonal male work, so Matt grew up used to communal ovens and eating most of his meals around others. Later, in Arthur’s jurisdiction, it was usually the same. He got a plate of whatever he was given, and it wasn’t something he had ever had to initiate himself.
 —Partially, he's sometimes exceptionally bad at eating when he has to choose to do it himself. Especially since the Americanization of the food culture took hold in the '80s and '90s. Whereas Alfred is food motivated from going without when he was little, Matt learned how to block out physical sensation until he collapsed because it was rare that someone, including himself, cared about what kind of state he was in. He just doesn’t eat at all when he’s stressed or anxious. And now it's his sole responsibility to do so as there aren’t the same community structures. He has a lot of Alfred’s abundance now, all the brunch and BBQ places anyone could ask for, but it hasn’t meshed with his eating habits. His people gave up so much of their communal eating in exchange for various choices and then wondered why they were so lonely. So he’ll just microwave a potato or a packet of Kraft dinner a day for a week straight and wonder why he feels dead because, technically, he did eat something. It’s seriously a miracle he got as tall as he did.
 —Feed him nothing but hardtack for three years, and he won't complain until he's dropped dead of scurvy. If Arthur puts some sort of godforsaken mixture of plum sauce or gin-infused spag bol in front of him, he’ll compliment it before he disassociates to get at least some of it down.
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coquelicoq · 1 year
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does anybody else say "hay is for horses, cows, and sheep. too bad you're a jackass" when someone yells "hey!" at them or is that another thing my dad made up
#my dad says so many things where i'm just like oh that's normal and then i grow up and lo and behold NO ONE SAYS THAT!#but also sometimes i assume he made it up and he didn't!!#i assumed he made up hitch in my giddy-up and he did not (though i still hold that he uses it nonstandardly (to mean wedgie))#i wasn't sure about 'can be. sure would!' but that seems to be a him original#he also loooooves malaphors. he likes to pair them: e.g. wake up and smell the roses/stop and smell the coffee#which is cute BUT. he thinks he made them up! like each of them individually but also the concept of malaphors (mixed idioms) 🙄#though he doesn't call them that. he calls them [his name]isms (because he thinks he made them up)#one time i was trying to figure out if a term my family uses is unique to us or not and i looked it up and got a hit on urban dictionary#so i opened it and IMMEDIATELY COULD TELL THAT HE WROTE THE ENTRY. HE PUT OUR FAMILY WORD IN URBAN DICTIONARY.#katymacky if you're reading this i am REELING over the knowledge that your dad also says jean-claude pennay!!!#WHERE ARE THEY GETTING THAT FROM??? DO THEY SUBSCRIBE TO THE SAME 'DORKY DADS OF THE PNW' MAGAZINE??????#idioms#or something idek#swears#i guess???#really struggling with how to index this lol#fun with words#my posts#oh also i almost didn't use the oxford comma for once in my life because the cadence of this has a pause after 'horses'#and then 'cows and sheep' are kind of run together#hay is for HORSES‚ COWS and SHEEP. too bad you're a JACKASS#i actually think in this case this maybe came from my stepmother? because i don't remember him saying it until after he met her#but maybe that's just because she says HEY! a lot more than other people i would have seen him around?
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I will never be over the fact that I stopped reading Black Butler literally one volume before the backstory got explained, only to pick it up three years later.
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inkskinned · 1 year
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probably time for this story i guess but when i was a kid there was a summer that my brother was really into making smoothies and milkshakes. part of this was that we didn't have AC and couldn't afford to run fans all day so it was kind of important to get good at making Cool Down Concoctions.
we also had a patch of mint, and he had two impressionable little sisters who had the attitude of "fuck it, might as well."
at one point, for fun, this 16 year old boy with a dream in his eye and scientific fervor in heart just wanted to see how far one could push the idea of "vanilla mint smoothie". how much vanilla extract and how much mint can go into a blender before it truly is inedible.
the answer is 3 cups of vanilla extract, 1/2 cup milk alternative, and about 50 sprigs (not leaves, whole spring) of mint. add ice and the courage of a child. idk, it was summer and we were bored.
the word i would use to describe the feeling of drinking it would maybe be "violent" or perhaps, like. "triangular." my nose felt pristine. inhaling following the first sip was like trying to sculpt a new face. i was ensconced in a mesh of horror. it was something beyond taste. for years after, i assumed those commercials that said "this is how it feels to chew five gum" were referencing the exact experience of this singular viscous smoothie.
what's worse is that we knew our mother would hate that we wasted so much vanilla extract. so we had to make it worth it. we had to actually finish the drink. it wasn't "wasting" it if we actually drank it, right? we huddled around outside in the blistering sun, gagging and passing around a single green potion, shivering with disgust. each sip was transcendent, but in a sort of non-euclidean way. i think this is where i lost my binary gender. it eroded certain parts of me in an acidic gut ecology collapse.
here's the thing about love and trust: the next day my brother made a different shake, and i drank it without complaint. it's been like 15 years. he's now a genuinely skilled cook. sometimes one of the three of us will fuck up in the kitchen or find something horrible or make a terrible smoothie mistake and then we pass it to each other, single potion bottle, and we say try it it's delicious. it always smells disgusting. and then, cerimonious, we drink it together. because that's what family does.
#this is true#writeblr#warm up#relatedly for some reason one of our Favorite Jokes#amongst the Siblings#is like - ''this is so good u will love it''#while we are reacting to something we OBVIOUSLY find viscerally disgusting#like we will be actively retching and be like ''nooooo it's so good''#to the point that i sometimes get nervous if someone outside my family is like oh u should try it its good#(obvi we never force each other to eat anything. we are all just curious birds and#like. we're GONNA try the new thing.)#edit to answer why we had so much vanilla:#my mom is a very good cook and we LOVE to bake. so she just had a lot of staples in the house.#it's one of those things that's like. have u ever continuously thought ''ah i should get butter im probably out''#even tho u are not out of butter. so u end up with like 5 years of butter.#my mom would do that in a costco but like with vanilla extract#to be fair we WERE always using WAY TOO MUCH bc we were kids#so like she was right to stock up#ps. yes we were VERY sick after this lol i just didn't want to include it in the post in case ppl had an ick about that#u can tell it's real bc we knew "oh no we fucked up that's too much vanilla to waste'' but our reaction was to just. keep drinking it#> sibling understanding that vanilla extract isn't free > knowledge mother doesnt mind if we use it for milkshakes#> sibling choice to maybe get in a loophole of ''not wasting it'' if we drink it bc that's the same as using it (not throwing it out)#listen bud i was like 13 and my sister was like 9#when my mom discovered this we. got in. A LOT. of trouble. a lot of it. a LOT of it.#3rd edit bc i guess it isn't clear - i am 1 of my brother's 2 little sisters#i am the middle child#out of all the ways i have had to explain a post before being like ''did u forget a middle child can happen'' is my favorite
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jazjelspen · 3 months
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my angel baby
(alastor w/ angel daughter reader)
[caution!!: EPISODE 8 & 6 SPOILERS. NOT PROOFREAD]
(notes: alastor joins charlie and vaggie in heaven to convince them about the hazbin hotel. angel reader physically resembles a fawn. )
(right now this is considered a oneshot, unless there is a very high demand for a part 2 I'll happily make another one for funzies!)
(PART 2 IS OUT!!!)
(also apologies if alastor's last name isnt actually altruist LMAo I kinda just wrote it assuming so 😭 )
You made it to heaven, lucky you.
Heaven was surely a treat, you lived your days with the upmost happiness, the light of heaven shining on your skin with kisses as if praising you for your goodness and your sacrifices,
all your sacrifices.
You were currently taking the job over for St. Peter at the gates of heaven for just a few minutes to await for any wondering souls to appear, to help guide them while he came back from a lunch break. Normally they wouldn't allow a human soul like yourself with little experience in this kind of task to take charge of such an important job, but you were close to many of the high ranking angels and you have proved your proficiency in tasks that you set your mind to, so you were glad to help those in need.
You stood there reading through the millions of pages looking over all kinds of names, all seemed like names that you wouldn't normally hear back in your time when you died. Some you liked, others didn't exactly pique your interest much, but the advancement of names since the 1930s surely proved how much times have changed and how quickly time seems to pass in heaven.
You wonder if it is in hell too.
'Hell?..' you wondered as you shook your head and sighed, your mind has been on that place lately and you wondered if it was even worth the rent free space in your mind.
You were currently slouched over the book and decided to close it with a glum look on your face, your elbows now resting on the golden podium and your hands cupping your face.
Geez, and you've been thinking a lot about your old man.
What-- no wait-
You shouldn't call him your old man, let alone your dad, not even father, pops-- not even by his damn name.
Even so, as much as you hated it.. you couldn't help but still use his last name sometimes since it's what you were given when you were first taken in.
Your last name?.. why, you're forgetting already?
_____ Altruist is who you a---
"HELLO??"
You snapped out of your thoughts as your head slipped from under your palms, face planting onto the cover of the enormous book. In embarrassment you snapped your head back up and your wings followed suit, spreading open behind you in shock as your eyes searched for the voice that called out to you from below.
You finally darted down to see three oddly shaped figures, your panicked vision soon relaxing to see two girls and a man dressed in red from tip to toe.
How peculiar.
Your eyes only set on the girl at the moment since she was the one waving at you and basically begging for your attention.
"Hello hello! uh.. Down here!" The girl with long locks of pale yellow hair waved, her smile widening when seeing she's caught your attention.
"Ah- yes yes! Hello hello! Welcome to Heaven! May I.. uh-" you scrambled nervously to open the book in the middle of it, "May I have your name please?"
She nodded, also returning a bit of a shy attitude back "Yes of course! My names Charlie Morningstar!"
Just like that you flicked the pages to go to the names that sounded similar to the girl's, mumbling her name under your breath as your finger traced down each name on the list.. to your dismay you couldn't find it.
"You don't seem to be on the list ma'am.. how weird.. does this usually happen with St. Peter?.." you spoke in concern, mumbling the last part to yourself.
The girl then started to explain something about her dad getting her a meeting, your mind a little clouded still trying to find her name until you heard the forbidden name that no one inside the pearly gates ever attempted to say out loud.
"-- maybe try, Lucifer.. Morning...star-"
And just like that you slammed the book closed, no words coming out of your mouth but an exasperated look of shock freezing your face.
"Oh-hoho... that explains so much--" you gave her a small sheepish smile, awkwardly looking off to the side where your eyes couldn't help but drag themselves to the man dressed in red.
"Miss you don't think.. you could've..." your eyes at first looked at the man's waist, his coat lightly shredded at the ends and the stripes of the long suit guided your eyes upwards "-gotten..." up and up and your eyes met his. The red eyes, the ears, the small horns, the horrific aura, and..
Oh dear, you'd recognize that damned smile anywhere.
"--lost..?" the end of your sentence dragged on, taking a long while to finish since all you could think about is how this man is at the front door step of the place he shouldn't even be considered in being let to enter.
Alastor, your father from the living realm. Not connected by blood but by life and connection.
The man where you got your last name from by being taken in and called his daughter.
The red deer demon seemed to recognize you as well, a spark in his devilish eyes proved it so, but it was very brief since he more or less also seemed to relish the look on your face with his smile stretched further up.. however further up it could get.
Charlie seemed concerned at your reaction, waving her hand in front of your face gently as if to get you out of this trance. "Heyyy... are you okay?.." she asked with genuine worry until all of you were focused away from this bizarre moment when a set of three angels befell before you all. The two seraphims and finally-- St. Peter off from his break.
"_____. We can take it from here, we appreciate the help." The highest and oldest seraphim announced your name and her appreciation while gliding down a bit more earlier than the blonde angel you covered for, she and the younger seraphim's forms going from their true to more human-like appearances.
"_____! My dear friend thank you so much for covering for me, always a real helper you!" St. Peter popped beside you as he praised you while gently flying beside you, you looked up at him with a small nervous smile before opening your own wings to flap down from his podium and let him get back on the job.
"It's no problem at all, you know me! Always.. happy to help.." you spoke your last words to him before your wings gently took you down to set yourself beside another one of your friends, Emily! You never talked much to Sera that wasn't in a formal setting but Emily seemed so easy to get along with. She gave you a tight squeeze of a hug while saying hello which eased your nerves a bit more, of course they never fully disappeared with the man who ruined everything before you let out your last breath.. standing right in front of you.
The man that brought you up here in the first place.
The seraphims introduced themselves to the three residents of hell, the deer demon more quiet until finally finding a spot of silence to jump in and introduce himself as well.
"Why hello, a real pleasure meeting you two quite the pleasure! Never thought I'd ever get to see an angel up this close in my life HAHA! The names Alastor!"
The voice, the radio static over it, his name.
It was him, you recognized it as if you listened to him on the radio just yesterday, your own personal hell.
Whatever reaction or words the higher ranked angels said seemed to fizzle out of your brain as they were replaced with the memories of your last moments on earth.
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"Father!" you screamed as you ran up to your childhood home, the home to which you were raised and kept in, your home in which you lived in with your father, Alastor Altruist.
For sometime you had suspected foul play when it came to your father's weird actions when the night came, the tone he spoke through his radio show when announcing several murders happening across and haunting New Orleans. You just didn't want to truly believe that the man that found you, a poor little orphaned baby, and raised you would do such disgusting and diabolical crimes.
You couldn't believe it.. until you finally saw it.
Your legs scrambled and fought each step to become faster, finally reaching the door of your home you slammed it open with a strong kick after jiggling the doorknob didn't work.
You knew the next murder he would commit would happen in your home.. you thanked whatever force that made you disobey him and look through his study since if you didn't you wouldn't know that right now there was blood to be shed.
The door opening and with your kick full of adrenaline and panic it made the door barley cling onto it's hinges. There your father was, on top of a wounded man that seemed to be gurgling and gasping to breathe as the victim attempted to claw at Alastor's grasp. Pieces of glass and wood broken across the entire floor, walls bloodied and worn out, pictures that hung neatly now cracked and lopsided or shattered on the floor.
Whatever happened in here, the victim was sure a fighter in the beginning.
You immediately without hesitation with full force pushed Alastor off the man, pulling the bloodied stranger by his wrist. The victim and you stared for a moment, him mostly realizing that he's being saved by a young girl like you. His lips parted to thank you but you could see Alastor raise his kitchen knife in the air and sprinted toward him to stab him on the back.
With no words left to share or spill you grabbed the stranger by the shoulders and with all your might pushed him and yourself away so that in the end Alastor ended up stabbing nothing but air.
Alastor grunted in frustration, his bloodied smile yet never faltering despite the challenge you now gave him.
The man snapped his head at you, eyes fixated at you before snapping back to his victim and raising his knife up once more, in a haunting motion his steps creeped and creaked towards the injured New Orleans citizen stricken with fear and terror.
Just like that, Alastor slams his knife down with no hesitation. The knife fully in his prey with no inch of the blade uncovered.
Oh-- wait.
That shriek, the sobs, the shaky breathing and the coughs of blood.. that wasn't his victim.
It was you.
His daughter, he stabbed his daughter.
For a moment you could see his crazed smile falter, the humane part of him uncovering itself for a moment, for you.
His little girl was covered in her blood because of him, the little baby he found on that cold rainy day is dying because of him, his bundle of joy that he took years to take care of is leaving him.. and it's all his fault.
He didn't know it was you-- he didn't know you'd be that stupid to sacrifice yourself for some random prick.
He didn't know that in the end, someone as evil as him could have raised someone as selfless as you.
"p..papa..?" you whimpered, your painful coughs of blood spilling out and going down your chin and your neck. "It hurts-- g.. it hurts so much papa.." you cried as the knife in your chest seemed to feel as if it was melting into your skin, becoming one with you. It obviously wasn't but the pain was just that painful.
Alastor's smile faltered and kept trying to stay up, his own set of tears falling down his face and onto your cheeks that were slowly losing life. Regret stabbing his own heart the way he did to yours. He let go of the knife and instead cradled you in his arms, just like how he used to when you would have nightmares as a little girl.
"Shh.. Shh.." he shush you softly as he gently patted your head, moving away any uneven strands of hair he could spot with his hands trembling in regret. "Little one.. don't worry about a thing, papa's here.. " he mumbled, the gentleness replacing what once was pure aggressiveness.
Your eyes slowly started to flutter closed, your pulse slowing down, breathing less profound, your limbs going limp, and your face.. contorting into a peaceful state of slumber.
Alastor watched as you passed in his arms, his faltering smile picking itself up once more to stretch itself across his face with tears pouring out his eyes. This wasn't a smile of joy, it was a smile to hide what he truly felt.. to lie to himself. "My little angel, forgive me please."
Those were his last words to you, words that in the end you couldn't hear.
And that man he tried to kill earlier? He escaped when he was given the chance, Alastor was sure the cops were to invade his home soon.. now there was just one thing left to do before he'd be found once again to pay the consequences.
He took your body to a beautiful forest filled with flower meadows. Alastor knew this was one of your favorite spots as a young girl, why not let you rest here.
Ah but as he was preparing to bury you in your final resting place... that darn deer hunter.
Well, you know the story. Mistaken for a deer, shot, that's the end of Alastor Altruist and his darling daughter, ______ Altruist.
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As you stood there you were awoken from your thoughts with the high angels escorting the princess and her other female companion into the gates of heaven, St. Peter welcoming them humbly with one of heaven's popular songs.
You were frozen, in shock. A chill went down your spine as you felt a foreign energy come closer.
You felt long fingers grapple themselves onto your shoulder which made you dramatically turn towards the hand and away from it.
Your father wanted to talk to you.
Your contrasting colors and appearances made this reunitement even more uncomfortable for you, his demon form seeming to match his disgusting self that he hid from the human world before.
His face was hard to read, especially with that signature smile of his that even in death he would never get rid of.
"Little one, my darling daughter.." he spoke, his voice seemingly trying to seem genuine but the radio filter over it made it feel condescending to you.. as if mocking you.
The look on your face was evident, you missed him so much but hated him with your entire being because of that hidden side he kept for years.
He continued "My little ____... out of all places I never thought I'd see you here. Oh but it's definitely much better than down under my little dove.."
Geez what was he even saying?? What were his intentions..?? You couldn't tell.. after all this time, you couldn't forgive this man, this serial killer, this demon, this.. monster. You couldn't.. not this soon anyways.
You took a deep inhale and exhale before fixing your posture and stance, trying to seem more professional and confident. "Sir, your hosts and companions are ahead of you. You wouldn't want to miss your introduction to a place you'll never see again after this day." Your voice stern and professional, trying your best to be void of emotion.
"Darling.. is that truly a way to greet your dear ol' father?" He spoke, hand stretched out while the other held onto his staff.
"Your friends are waiting on you, don't be late Alastor."
Just like that you turned your heel and gave him the cold shoulder, your wings spread and started flapping. Taking you up and away further into your home.. Alastor watched you as you left him once again, this time by choice.
Ah but he knew, he'd have his darling daughter back soon. His little angel that he cared for will forgive him.. he knew you had to.
With his grin widening even further he walked to catch up to the Princess of hell and her partner into the pearly gates, to see what other thing could entertain him while his daughter snapped back to her senses.
(hello!! thank you so much for reading I had a blast with this. as you can tell. once again thank you so much for reading! hope to see you soon! mwa mwa!)
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churipu · 4 months
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Hiii!! I can ask for jjk men (your choice!) with a girlfriend who doesn't look like it but is like super strong! ᕦ(ò_óˇ)ᕤ I have a love for those types of characters<3 thanks in advance!
I hope you are getting better ❤️‍🩹
jjk men & their "looks like a cinnamon roll but could kill" you gf
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featuring. gojo satoru, toji fushiguro, nanami kento x fem! reader
warnings. cursing
note. anonnn <33 i absolutely love this one, i have so many speculations for different characters about this request omg, thank you for requesting love, i hope this one is up to par, much love xoxo (and i am feeling so much better now, thank you for checking up on me). OH AND GUESS WHAT? u don't understand how thankful i am to reach 300+ followers in the first week??? u guys rock, ilysm
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GOJO SATORU. i feel like he'd feel so betrayed after finding out how you're very strong?? one second he's looking away and then the next second, he looks back and a curse is ready to pounce on you. he grits his teeth when he realizes that — but before he could even do anything, there you were, sending out a strong punch that leaves a gust of wind as a cherry on top.
gojo could only stare at you, jaw dropped. all he could think of was how on earth did you do that and how could someone so...cute and adorable like you send out that kind of punch. honestly, on one side he felt so betrayed to only know of your power now — but on the other side, he's so damn proud of you.
after all of that, you still managed to send him your most innocent smile as if you didn't just almost possibly created a hurricane with that punch of yours. skipping happily and then throwing yourself onto the male, "satoru!"
"you never cease to surprise me, baby." he chuckles.
and you blinked at him innocently, a little confused at what he's talking about. at first gojo thought you were just pretending not to know, but when he realized that you actually didn't know, it dawned upon him that maybe you didn't even realize how strong you actually are.
"y/n, you just obliterated a curse."
"oh. oh. yeah! i did."
yeah, you definitely weren't aware of your own strength. which surprised gojo even more.
TOJI FUSHIGURO. he's always thought that protecting you was one of his main duty, and believe me when i say that toji is always on guard for anything that could possibly send harm your way. feral animals, harmful plants, annoying babies, curses, anything he finds annoying — he just assumes you don't like them either.
despite not having a cursed energy, toji is strong. anyone would agree with that. so when he settled in with you, someone who radiates such loving and gentle aura, toji made it his job to keep you out of harm's way.
but apparently, you've got that under covered.
being in a relationship meant going out on dates occasionally, right? however, some people do not understand the meaning of "i have a boyfriend" and it annoys you. so when toji was away to fetch a few things and you were left alone, a stranger felt like it was the best time to hit on you.
"saw ya' from a couple of minutes ago, thought you're cute. we should hang out."
obviously the word "no" didn't work as he kept on bothering you, and you do know how people react when they don't get what they want sometimes? they just plain out throw words to boost up their ego and deny their own embarrassment. it's funny.
"whatever. ya' aren't that cute anyways." everything began out as an exchange of words — until anger consumes the best out of them. the male got ready to swung his hand on you.
and believe me when i say that toji was having the time of his life watching you exchange angry words with the guy, until he saw the male raise his hand. toji was about to drop everything and come to your rescue, but stopped when you smacked the stranger across his face harshly it sent him stumbling over his own feet.
toji chuckled lightly, although surprised. that day, i swore he promised himself not to get on your bad side (also, he thought it was pretty hot of you). he told you he'd been watching from afar, and was so ready to be your knight in shining armor.
apparently, you are your own knight in shining armor.
NANAMI KENTO. for the longest time, nanami has stood his ground in defending you from malices and curses. some of the people do not like the idea of you and him together, especially girls who failed to obtain his attention (obviously). and he'd always be the one to tell them to piss off and not to butt in his relationship.
you were just a normal businesswoman working normal office hours, and nanami — well, he's a pretty busy man. but he has made himself visible to your work environment a couple of times, mostly because you were clumsy enough to forget your bento box that you made for yourself before going to work.
and apparently that few times was enough to make girls swoon over your boyfriend. honestly, you could care less. you trust nanami. but things went rock bottom when this one particular girl, a co-worker who was obviously jealous of you. and she doesn't hesitate in showing that to you.
"accidentally" spilling coffee on you, "accidentally" stepping on your foot with her heels, "accidentally" bumping into you, "accidentally" elbowing your head when she walks by. just everything in an attempt to get a reaction out of you so she could possibly play the victim card.
you brushed her every attempt off, although it bothered you quite a bit. but your last straw was when she "accidentally" ruined the report you've been working on for the past week, sacrificing your rest and sweat for it — only for her to dump down a cup of iced macchiato on it the day you were supposed to hand it in to your boss.
you've just had enough of her, and this was not something you can brush off like her other "accidents" because this report would affect your position in the company (and possibly get you fired). but at this point, do you even care? no, no you don't.
"so, is this the part where i hit her?" you ask another co-worker who was there in the room when everything happened, and they nervously shook their head, "really? i feel like this is the part where i do."
so when you did send a punch to her jaw, your other co-workers were quick to run find help (your boss). and all it took was one punch to make the girl wobble weakly, her knees buckling.
oh, and your boss wasn't too happy about your resort in violence, especially in the work area.
"i don't care, i'm fired anyways." you took off the company's id card that was hanging from around your neck and tossed it onto the table before packing your bag to leave.
your boss wasn't the only unhappy one, you were too. and nanami as well.
"it isn't my fault, kento."
"i know, darling. i'm not saying it's your fault, i'm just surprised...that's all."
well, that was the first time you've ever threw a punch to someone. and the first time you've ever been fired, so yes. it is a surprise to nanami, but to you? you were expecting it sooner or later with the pace of how that co-worker was going in with her shenanigans.
"she was pushing it."
nanami was silently proud of you for being able to defend yourself though, "well, at the end of the day, you won the fight. right?"
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© CHURIPU 2023 , DO NOT COPY OR REPOST ANYWHERE !
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vikkirosko · 4 months
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The last story was amazing, hope you can get this one in before the holdidays, and have a nice vacation. And just a great next few months on top of that! But I was wondering ( sorry this may be long ) if you could do a headcanon of alastor, lucifer, Angel Dust, lucifer, fizz + Ozzie, and Rosie? ( sorry if that's to many characters there all just great characters ) x a reader who has CIP ( the inablility ) to feel pain? Thank you! Also how have you been?
I'm all good. I haven't had much free time lately, so I'm a little behind schedule on writing requests, but I still don't lose hope that I'll be able to finish everything before the end of the year. And how are you doing?
Headcanons CIP
🕷 Angel Dust x Reader 💖
You and Angel have known each other for a long time. You knew that he often got into various scuffles and always reminded him to be careful. One of the times you knew for sure that he was going to get into trouble, you went with him. You were right and helped him cope and not get hurt, but there was something that caused him concern. You were hit by several bullets, but you didn't seem to pay any attention to it at all
Only when you noticed the blood on your clothes did you say with irritation that you had ruined your favorite sweater. Angel jumped up to you, worried about your wounds, but you didn't seem to feel the pain, which you soon informed him about. That's why Angel took you back to the hotel, where he treated your wounds. You told him that you had a CIP. You haven't felt pain since you were born, even when you were human, and even in Hell, the absence of pain has remained with you
Angel was surprised that for so long he didn't know that you don't feel pain at all. You had to pay attention to little things so as not to harm yourself, for example, be careful about hot dishes, because you might not notice how hot the soup could be or how hot the cup of coffee was. Angel listened attentively to you, surprised that he didn't notice it
Angel has become more attentive towards you. He didn't constantly take care of you, but sometimes he reminded you that the food or drink was hot, that you held the knife too close to your fingers, or that you were injured. Angel understood that even if you didn't feel pain, it didn't mean that the wounds didn't hurt you, which is why he tried to take care of you at least a little
📻 Alastor x Reader🎙
Alastor found out that you don't feel pain when he noticed that you returned to the hotel with an injured leg. You weren't even limping. You just went to your room like everything was completely normal. He didn't know any other reason for this. He went to your room with a first-aid kit and you did not hide from him either your own wound or the fact that you really did not feel pain
Alastor stayed in your room while you treated the wound on your leg. You told him that even when you were human, you didn't feel pain. You assumed that at least in Hell this would change, but it turned out not to be so. Because of this, you didn't notice the wounds you could get until you noticed the blood on your clothes
The origin of the scars on your skin was now clear. He understood that you probably got these scars in Hell. On your palms, hands, and obviously not only there. You really weren't very worried about your own health, and the lack of pain only made it harder for you to take care of yourself
Alastor understood that in Hell there was much less harm from this for you. Dying in Hell was much more difficult for a sinner than when you were alive, so Alastor didn't worry too much about you. He knew you'd be fine, but he still left a first-aid kit in your room in case you needed it
💀Rosie x Reader 🌹
You were a frequent guest at Rosie's and helped her with some problems at her store. You often stayed at her house for weeks at a time, but Rosie was only too happy to spend time with you. Sometimes you came in with wounds after fights, but Rosie was sure they weren't that serious, so you didn't pay attention to it. However, when you came in seriously injured but behaved as if everything was fine, she became worried
Rosie insistently asked you to sit down and brought a first aid kit. She was in no hurry to ask questions or jump to conclusions, primarily focusing on your wounds. You didn't make a sound when she was treating your wounds, which gave Rosie certain thoughts
You honestly told her that you didn't feel pain at all. Even before your death, you had CIP and you learned to live with it, but in Hell you became more relaxed and took much less care of your own health, which led to your injury. Rosie listened to you carefully, then gently stroked your hair and asked you to be careful
Rosie didn't want you to try. She knew that you tried to be more attentive to yourself and tried to avoid new wounds. You didn't want to upset Rosie and make her worry, which is why you tried not to put yourself in danger, not even realizing that Rosie was ready to show those who would harm you why she was overlord
🍎 Lucifer Morningstar x Reader 🐍
Lucifer knew perfectly well that you didn't feel pain. You've known each other for a long time and he often saw you after fights. You didn't pay attention to the wounds, just talked irritably about stained or torn clothes. You both knew that the lack of feeling pain had its own characteristics, so you made sure that the wounds were treated, and Lucifer made sure that no one dared to hurt you
Lucifer was much stronger than you, and when you were together, no one dared even try to look at you askance, but sometimes you got involved in fights, especially when it was the end of the year. You didn't want to hide, even though you knew you could have died. Every time Lucifer found out that you were fighting again, he watched, taking his time to intervene. It was only when he saw that you were seriously injured that he intervened
Lucifer sometimes offered to pick up personal guards for you, but you kept telling him that it wasn't necessary. Just because you didn't feel pain didn't mean you were reckless. You tried not to put yourself in excessive danger, realizing that even in Hell you could die
You didn't know how long you would be in Hell and whether it was possible to leave Hell at all, but while you were there you weren't going to let yourself die again, especially because you didn't notice any wound and Lucifer didn't mind helping you with it
🎪 Fizzarolli x Reader x Asmodeus 💕
In your relationship, Asmodeus has always tried to take care of Fizzarolli and you. He had sincere feelings for both of you, and you responded in kind, but if Fizzarolli really tried to be careful, then you got into trouble more often. They both saw the wounds healing on you, but you always said it was just a small accident and they had nothing to worry about. This went on until you returned with bloodstains on your clothes and serious wounds that you didn't pay attention to
They immediately rushed to you, both very worried. You convinced them that you were fine, but this time it was obviously not the case. Asmodeus treated your wounds, after which he seriously asked who did it. To his question, you smiled gently and said that they were much worse off than you, so you shouldn't have worried about it. However, there was something that did not escape their eyes. It's like you didn't feel the touch of your wounds
When Fizzarolli asked you if you were in pain, you were confused and said that you didn't feel any pain at all. You've had CIP and you've never felt pain in your entire life. There used to be problems because of this, but now you have learned to avoid serious problems, at least you tried
Asmodeus and Fizzarolli weren't going to leave you alone until your wounds were completely healed. They both surrounded you with care, worrying about you, to which you laughed softly and hugged them. Even in Hell, you were able to find those who gave you the warmth that warmed your heart and soul
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sanemisstalker · 9 months
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N/SFW. Minors DNI
CW: GN reader / Men's Mental Health IG ???
KNY characters that I think are more prone to cumming in their pants / NSFW
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Giyu
-He's inexperienced.
-I admire the almost fandom consensus of him being either resident, sexy, black haired, quiet anime boy, and/or 'nobody likes this friendless loser, he definitely has a tumblr'
-Any attention, platonic or not, from someone he's attracted to is enough to make Giyu get an apparent boner. He's prone to them when the people he admires say genuinely nice things to him.
-He doesn't get to hear nice things a lot, nor does he take compliments easily, so when he believes them, his body can't help but believe them too.
-He'd rather it not be that way, but due to his floundering mental health, and general isolation, Giyu isn't jerking off very often, nor is he able to get it up when he wants to, so he just goes... months without thinking about it sometimes.
-Could definitely cum from kissing too hard. Not just kissing, but particularly the rough treatment.
-Giyu must be incredibly touch starved, I imagine. I can't fiction the last time he's hugged someone. That scene where he's holding Shinobu, perhaps?
-So when he's getting so much attention, especially so much positive, romantic attention, even if it's a little rough, I'm sure his dick would be at full mast.
-he doesn't think he's predisposed to masochism or anything. He'd hope he wasn't, but it feels better when he's kissing, and maybe his hair is being pulled on, just a little.
-he'd be very embarassed. He wouldn't cry or anything, but I think he'd get up and leave the room. He knows you knew what happened, he didn't moan, but he flinched because the build up was so immediate, and he just couldn't stop.
-How pathetic. He can't show his face infront of you ever again. All he does is ruin good things. You're definitely disgusted by him.
-Even if he didn't realize how pretty his face looked during his orgasm.
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Gyutaro
-Everyday I fight the gyutaro incel allegations, and everyday I fail.
-Gyutaro is socially inept, to put it blatantly. He spends an incredible amount of time locked away in his sister, and rarely chooses to come out unless eating for the two, or-
-if he needs to jerk off. A rarity, nowadays. Looking the way he looks can do a real number on one's ability to self-pleasure. He also isn't able to seek out assistance from any brothels- He still looks the way he looks. He's no Muzan- blessed with the ability to change his appearance at will.
-So when you're on top of Gyutaro, and he feels the curve of your ass in his palm, and your sex is positioned right on top of his, just barely grazing his clothed cock, as you try and teach him how to kiss (he's doing his best, but he knows he's not good-)
-He cums, and he cums hard. He grips down on your hips, and goes wide eyed, unable to stop the moan that rips its way from his throat... and then quickly moves you off of him.
-He isn't even finished when he moves you, he's shakey armed, and he nearly drops you.
-he's mortified. After all this time, he finally gets someone willing to touch him, and he blows it. He's borderline inconsolable- switching between begging you not to look at him and begging you not to hate him-
-but the noise he made was just so... pathetic.
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Haganezuka
-Men dedicated to their craft don't have time to cum? Silly of you to assume he's ever even seen another person naked. That would imply he looked away from a sword for long enough to register it.
-On a completely serious note (as serious as I can be writing this), It'd be quite awkward interacting with Haganezuka sexually. His mind has been so consumed by perfection that, even if he wasn't dedicated to the blade, he's almost prevented himself from ever being able to cum in a social setting.
-He's developed a phobia of new situations he can't control. Especially sexual ones. Swords are easy and gratifying. Why would he ever need to cum when he can just make a sword and have it be respected and revered. Wouldn't that be nice-
-So when you started rubbing him over his pants, he was, admittedly, panicking. It's not like he went nearly 4 decades without using his dick... He'd just... gone 2 and a half decades without using his dick. Nowhere near the same.
-You'd barely even touched it, barely even pressed your lips to his neck, and Haganezuka was panting.
-The fear coursing through his veins, and the attention his forgotten cock was receiving- He grew more unsightly by the second...
-and then you pressed a particularly soft kiss to the corner of his lips and he was done for. That was his first kiss-
-Though shocked, you'd pump Haganezuka through his orgasm. It'd be enough to go through his pants, and spill over your hand.
-He'd grip your robes, and will you closer to him. His heels would slam into the floorboard, and he'd try to bury his face in your neck, attempting to muffle the groan he'd loose, only to fail tremendously.
-He'd be huffy after. Mad at himself and disguising it as being mad at you.
-'Well, maybe you shouldn't touch me anymore, if you found it so gross! Did you consider that? Just not touching me- ever?'
-but you saw how sad he looked when you said you'd do whatever he wanted. What a simple man.
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harrysfolklore · 6 months
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buzzcut - blurb
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this kinda sucks but it was on my drafts sooo why not, hope you enjoy !
MASTERLIST | MY PATREON
//
"I wonder how would I look with my head shaved." Harry randomly said one night both of you were cuddled up in bed.
"Where is that coming from, lovie?" You looked up at him, curious by his sudden statement.
"Dunno, I've never in my almost 30 years of age had a buzzcut," he shrugged, "I feel like It's part of manhood to shave your head at least once."
"Your manhood is just fine," you rolled your eyes with affection and pecked his chin, "But if you want to know how you'd look with no hair, you can always look for those AI pictures your fans have been making lately."
Harry laughed and kissed the crown of your head, leaving the conversation at that and focusing on the romantic comedy movie you picked for the night.
Days passed by and you soon forgot about your conversation and Harry didn't bring up his desire to shave his head again, so when he mentioned that he wanted to get a haircut you assumed that he was getting his usual trim.
Oh boy, were you wrong.
"I want to chop my hair a bit before we head to Vegas." He said a week before your trip, Jeff kept insisting that you needed to see the show he had been working on at the Sphere and you finally agreed.
"That's fine, just don't do anything extreme you know I love the curls." You replied, unaware of what he had up in his sleeve.
"Nothing to worry about, baby." You failed to notice the devilish smile on his face that gave away that he was planning something else.
The following day Harry told you that he was going to Ayae's place to get his haircut, which was weird to you because his hairdresser always came to your house to cut his hair, but you still didn't overthink it too much.
Until you got a text from her that read "Don't kill me or your boyfriend for what he made me do."
Just a minute after you got the text you heard the front door open and your name being called from downstairs.
"H are you home? Ayae texted me but I don't know what she means." You said as you made your way to him, he was standing in your living room, his hair being covered by the hood of his hoodie.
"I cut my hair," he said and a confused frown made its way to your face, "And I'm going to show it to you, but you need to promise me you won't freak."
"Why would I freak? Why are you acting so weird about it?"
Harry only smiled and pulled the hood from his head, revealing that his brand new buzzcut.
You stood in your place for a few minutes before reacting, "Is this some kind of joke?"
"It's not love! I shaved it," he got closer to you, a big smile on his face, “Do you like it?”
“Oh my god! Your hair is really gone! What the fuck, Harry.” You laughed in disbelief, grabbing his face to get a better look at him.
“I told you I wanted to give it a try before my twenties ended, remember?”
“Yeah, but I didn’t think you’d actually do it,” you shook your head, “This is crazy! Does Jeff know? Forget about him does your mom know? Oh my god we need to facetime her right now.”
Harry laughed at your rant, “Jeff knows love, he wants to shave his too, and we’ll facetime mum later,” he pecked your lips quickly, “Now wipe that look off your face! You’re looking at me like I’m an alien!”
“This is just so weird, but also such a you thing to do,” you pecked his lips back, “Your fans are going to be absolutely nuts about this.”
“Lord, that’s what i’m dreading the most.”
A week later you and Harry were standing in the crowd of U2's concert at the Las Vegas Sphere, surrounded by friends and other concertgoers.
Somehow Harry's new look gave him a little more privacy, since the world didn't know that his signature brown curls were gone and he could go unnoticed sometimes.
"You've been busted." You said as you noticed a phone camera filming the both of you, Harry was standing behind you with his hand protectively gripping your neck.
"What, love?" He asked, making you discretely point at the person with the camera.
"Well, I guess the madness stars now."
A day later, pictures and videos of Harry's new haircut flooded the internet, making his fans go crazy once again.
taglist: @lightsoutstyles @willowpains @straightontilmornin n @sleutherclaw @gimsaysay @hazzassmirk @platinumbarbie143 @musicforcinemas @celesteblack08 @scntfrhs @eleanordaisy @lomlolivia a @iceebabies @iloveshawn @be-with-me-so-happily @watermelonsugacry @rayisthehoe @drewrry
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traegorn · 7 months
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I thought I'd warn you that the two wolves meme references a quote by a racist man who claimed to be Native American and made up a fake Native American quote.
Sort of.
Famous evangelist Billy Graham made it up. He claimed it was a story from indigenous people (originally Inuit but when they called him on his shit he changed it to Cherokee). But as far as I can tell, he didn't claim he was a Native American. It's certainly not something he was known for.
I know young people might not know who Billy Graham was -- his peak fame was decades ago and he passed away like five years ago -- but trust me, this wasn't just "some guy."
But also you get that, like, the joke wasn't trying to validate the quote, right? It's a play on expectations joke. Like you're expecting some variation of the story, and instead you get a transporter accident. The joke doesn't require the original story to be valid, and in no way assumes endorsement.
I need you to sit down and consider a few things for the future. The first is that if you're going to randomly "educate" strangers on the internet, make sure that you actually know exactly what you're talking about. Passing along misinformation helps no one.
Secondly, not everyone who references something is endorsing that thing. Sometimes a joke is sarcastic. Sometimes part of a joke is how wrong something is. Sometimes it's an expectation play. If you're going to dedicate your time to this kind of activism, you need to pick your battles better.
Thirdly, maybe make sure you know more about something than the person you're telling it to. I beg of you.
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usereddie · 24 days
Text
buck knows it can't be that big of a surprise to anyone, not really. not when he's only ever laughed at the jokes, never corrected anybody. he's half dreading it, telling the team. they're his family. they mean everything in the world to him, but, god, what if they knew. what if they knew all along this part of him that was too dark to look at, the dusty corner of the attic no one ever even shines a flashlight on in fear of what they'll find. it's not that buck decided to shine a flashlight, either. it was more like watching eddie smile at tommy and laugh at his (frankly very unfunny, thanks) joke made the whole room flood with bright, fluorescent light. it was kind of impossible to keep his eyes from drifting to it. to that attraction that was always there, always buzzing just under the surface of his skin.
sometimes he wonders if all the scrapes and cuts and scars, all the time he purposefully threw his body against the asphalt weren't just to get his parents attention. maybe he thought if he could give it a way out, the thrumming would leave and his heart would settle.
he spent an hour this morning and two hours last staring at himself in the mirror, repeating the word over and over and over. he spent the night before last avoiding his reflection altogether, terrified he wouldn't recognize the man looking back.
like it's some shocking revelation, this, and not the slow build of realization that's been coming for as long as he can remember.
and that's the thing, right? because buck can't blame his friends if they all laugh and pat him on the back and say i knew it, because it's not like he was totally unaware either. purposefully ignorant? yes. oblivious, though?
probably not as much as maddie might think.
his plan is to not say anything. to hold the word close to his chest for as long as possible but it's like his friends have fucking phd's in how to read him and his body language, and they're gently poking and prodding and pleading for him to open up.
hen's eyes are brighter than normal and chimney's smile is earnest and bobby's got his 'caring dad' face on and eddie's so beautiful when he smiles at him encouragingly he almost screams.
the words spill out before he can stop them. i'm bi. buck's eyes screw shut.
a hand falls lands on top of his, fingers squeezing. when he looks up, hen is grinning, and, jesus fuck, she looks so proud of him. buck didn't consider that as a possibility. that people would look at him with pride. that they'd thank him for his vulnerability, for trusting them, that he'd get pulled into teary eyed hugs. it's not some sort of new phenomenon — evan buckley assuming the worst — but it catches him off guard more than it usually does.
eddie hangs back. buck feels his absence like someone carved the emptiness out of him. he's on edge, a weird, jittery distance between the two of them for the rest of the shift. buck doesn't run into the fire without gear and let the flames overtake him but it's a near thing. eddie keeps looking at him, though. like there are words he doesn't know how to form and it makes something bubble in his chest. not quite hope because buck's not foolish enough to assume eddie would ever want him like that. the way buck's starting to realize he does.
and, oh god, does he.
but then the day ends and buck's lacing up his sneakers in the locker room and eddie's dressed but he's lingering, checking his watch thirty times in a minute. chimney heads out, pats on their backs, a wink and wide smile in buck's direction. buck gets up, throws his bag over his shoulder.
eddie stutters in his movements like he doesn't know if he's gonna allow himself to follow through with them, but then strong arms are wrapping themselves around buck, holding him so tight it almost feels like he can't breathe.
somehow, inexplicably, it also feels like he's exhaling for the first time.
"i'm proud of you, buck. i love you, you know that?" eddie says as they pull away, words a little awkward with their disuse but so genuine his heart twists painfully in his chest.
yeah, buck wants to say. almost does. but not how i want you to.
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agirlcandream84 · 2 months
Text
Neighbor!Frank Giving Daddy Vibes When He Offers To Help You
This isn't smut but it also isn't fluff but it is comfort but also hot? Like listen, I want Frank to step in and make.things.better. And you know he would.
Frank Castle x Reader
Word Count: 1,732 (~6 min read)
You felt like an idiot, sobbing on your living room floor over a damn futon. It wasn't even the futon, really, it was the colossal mess that acquiring the futon created. As a single girl, you should have guessed Facebook Marketplace was a sketchy place to buy your furniture but you were broke and desperate.
You'd been in your new apartment for a month and your living room was still an empty box with some pillows on the ground as a sad replacement for a couch. You saw the listing for a futon for $50, including delivery, on Marketplace and jumped on the offer. The guy had seemed nice enough and you arranged a time for drop-off on the front stoop of your building but the man pulled up in his truck with a hunk of dissembled futon parts instead of the assembled futon in the picture. Your heart sank instantly and you told him you didn't have the tools to assemble the futon.
"Not my problem," was all he grumbled as he opened his truck bed and started unloading the parts onto the sidewalk, clanging with every toss.
"Please, I'm sorry, I can't take this. I don't have any way to assemble it," you shout over the rattle of the pieces amassing on the sidewalk. He ignores you and continues to unload until the last scrap is cleared from his truck.
"I'm not paying for this," you tell him indignantly. "This isn't what the picture looked like."
He spits on the sidewalk as he strides over to you, grabbing your wrist roughly and yanking the $50 from your hand and mumbles, "Yes you fucking are."
As he drives away you contemplate just leaving the pieces there but your landlord has security cameras and the problem will circle back to you quickly enough. And so, after 30 mins of hauling parts up four flights of stairs and nearly two hours of attempting to assemble the futon using god knows what tools you had lying around the apartment you find yourself in heaving sobs on your living room floor.
The sharp rap at your door snaps you out of your spiral as you mumble a faint, "hello?" towards the door.
The voice on the other said says "Hey, uh, it's me. It's Frank." Frank kept to himself but you had both settled into a kind rhythm with each other. You occasionally dropped off your leftovers (he didn't seem like the type to cook much for himself) and he'd occasionally help take your trash out to the dumpsters or made sure your windows had working locks.
He wasn't one to talk much, usually just ringing your bell and grumbling something before lending a hand, and you assume it's by design. The thing is, you worried about Frank. Though he'd never say anything about it, you saw the way bruises would occasionally bloom across his face. Or the way he'd limp back to his unit down the hall. Sometimes he seemed to be gone for days on end. But despite all signs screaming, DANGEROUS MAN, you trusted Frank and he always treated you nicely. His presence was a comport even, if he did seem to attract danger.
"Oh, uh, coming," you mumble as you weave through the maze of futons parts scattered across your floor and quickly the wipe the tears from your cheeks. You open the door to find Frank leaning with his raised forearm against the doorframe, his hulking form above you, and his eyebrows furrowed.
"Hey Frank, everything ok?" you ask, eyes cast upward toward him, door only cracked a little to conceal the mess you were currently in.
"Came to ask you that question," he responds, chin jutting up to indicate your direction. "Thought maybe I heard some cryin' in there," he adds.
Shame flushes your face and radiates through your body. You weren't above asking for help when you needed it but to be caught in the middle of your mental breakdown was another humiliation entirely.
"Oh god, I'm so sorry. I didn't realize you could hear. I hope I didn't bother you. I'm so sorry," you rush out, your cheeks a vibrant pink.
"Hey, no no," he stops you, those brows furrowing, "don't apologize. Jeez sweetheart, I came to see if you're ok. Somethin' I can help with?"
You couldn't decide if it felt infinitely more embarrassing to accept Frank's help or if it was a tremendous relief.
"Well, I don't know. It's this.." you trail off, motioning to the room he can't see.
"Let me see, a'right?" he offers gently, "Can you open the door a bit for me?" he asks, his hand landing on the knob. You nod and step back, making room for Frank to enter.
"It was a Facebook Marketplace thing... the guy was a jerk," you start and describe what transpired. Frank appears to be growing more agitated at the story continues, his arms crossed across his chest and big breaths huffing out through his crooked nose.
"fuckin' prick," he mumbles under his breath when you finish as he squats to the floor to inspect the task. "These are the only tools you got honey?" he asks gently, not meaning to embarrass. After nodding your head yes he replies, "Yeah, no wonder you were frustrated. This is a nightmare. I'm gonna get my toolbox and I'm coming straight back, ok sweetheart?"
You nod your head again and he's gone for a moment to his own unit. You will yourself to take a few deep breaths to not only wash away the last of the tears but to calm your nerves. Frank always made you nervous. It was that energy of his -- always in charge-- it was simultaneously immensely comforting and slightly frightening.
You hear his footsteps approach from the hall as he calls "S'me honey," so you wouldn't be frightened. He enters with his toolbox at his side and crouches low to get to work on building.
"Are you sure about this Frank? It's so much work, I know it's a pain," you ramble, twisting your fingers in knots, your embodiment of anxiety. You know he's capable but the man probably had other plans for his afternoon.
His eyes land on your twisted fingers as he replies "Happy to do it, alright? I gotcha," and you relax just a bit. After getting him a glass of water you decide to busy yourself in the kitchen, washing last night's dishes and tidying up. After 30 mins of work, he's nearly complete.
"Hey sweetheart," he shouts into the kitchen, "can you do something for me?"
"Yeah, of course," you reply entering the living and tossing the dish towel aside, "how can I help?"
"Alright, you see this piece here," he says pointing at a bent metal bar that wasn't aligned to the screw hole, "that asshole mangled this piece when he disassembled it so we gotta force back in place. Need you to screw it in here when I start bending it back alright?" he asks as he indicates to the screw hole. You nod in understanding as he hands you the manual screw driver. He places his hands on your hips and says gently, "need you stand here honey," to guide you to stand directly in front of him, the futon in front of you. He feel heat flame your cheeks and thank god Frank is facing the back of your head.
Frank engulfs your form, his chin hovering over your right shoulder as his arms reach around either side of you to land on the bent metal bar. You hear the comforting rhythm of his breath in your ear and squeeze your eyes shut a moment to shake the heat rising in your cheeks. He steps forward an inch to get the right leverage on the bar, his broad chest grazing your back.
"this, uh, this ok?" he mumbles in the shell of your ear, his voice soft and rumbly, confirming your comfort and managing to raise the temperature in the room by about 50 degrees. You can't manage an audible yes but you nod instead. With that, you feel him lean closer, a grunt escaping his lips as he forces the bent bar back into place. You watch as his broad hands grip the cool metal, the ropes in his forearms taut as he bends it back to shape. As the holes line up, you begin screwing as fast as you can, securing the bar in place.
He pants as he releases the effort, an "attagirl" tumbling from his lips as his calloused hand wraps around yours, making the last, hardest 90 degree turn to tighten the screw in place. "Practically built the thing yourself," he teases, releasing your hand.
"I can't thank you enough," you start, turning to face him, his face now only inches from yours, the expanse of his shoulders nearly consuming the room. "I.. uh I..." you mumble, the rest of the thought terminated as you stand close enough to smell the mossy freshness of his deodorant.
"Yeah, hey, like I said, happy to help," he responds, one landing landing on your upper arm and squeezing gently before grazing down to let go. He adds after a beat, "Listen, you talk to me about it next time sweetheart, yeah? I’ll take care of it. Don't go gettin’ in a mess like that," his brown eyes nearly boring into yours.
"What do you mean... take care of it?" you ask, nearly a whisper, tiptoeing over a boundary you weren't sure you wanted to know more about. What was Frank's definition of "taking care of" something and why did you think it involved more bruises? Or worse.
His eyes flick away for a moment before finding yours again. "Yeah, that's nothin' you need to worry about honey," he responds, more breath than voice, and you had decided you didn't prefer to know any more.
After a few minutes collecting and packing his tools, Frank made his way to the door and you followed him behind, thanking him again for the help.
"Yeah, it's no problem. Let me take care of you sometimes, yeah?" he replies, leaning in to kiss your cheek, his hand landing softly on your opposite cheek for only a moment, before turning to walk towards his unit, leaving you with a new problem: were you in love with Frank?
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chiikasevennn · 2 months
Text
SMUT !!
Miguel eating u out . Fingering at the end. Idk what i wrote. Not proofread i js wanna yk. probably has errors.
"[Name]...?" Miguel's head got up from your aching pussy. He saw those tears, one at the brink of tracing a path down your cheeks.
"Ye—yeah?" He knew what you were going to possibly assume next.
"No, nothing's wrong. Are you okay? If—if you're uncomfortable, we can stop." Miguel had a knack for saying the perfect things that melted your heart. It was just one of the many qualities you had come to deeply admire about him.
"No!" You yelled. He just gave you the most mentally flabbergasting orgasm you could ever receive. It wasn't like any other. Electrifying. "It's okay, I—I just, uh, if, if it's being silent, you're not doing anything wrong… That's how I usually am… During sex."
"Oh?"
"'M sorry," you meekly replied, laying back down on the pillow, avoiding his gaze as he was practically in front of your wet cunt that he seemed to not want to let go of.
Gosh, Miguel absolutely adored you. This would be the first time you guys' doing actual lovemaking. You've only given him unforgettable blowjobs, but of course, Miguel was a man with necessities as well; he wanted to taste his woman.
"So you're not uncomfortable?" He asked.
"No… I'm just…" not used to being eaten out like you were the only thing that was gonna keep him alive. "Yeah. You can continue. I really liked it..."
You pretty much wouldn't be extremely wet if you didn't like this one bit.
Miguel placed a quick, firm kiss on your clit, making you flinch. Your cheeks warmed, and before you knew it, you blinked back tears from blurring your eyesight as he devoured every inch of your sanity, but this time, he became rougher.
In less than a minute, nearly on the brink of full-fledged sobbing, trying to keep your legs back together, but Miguel was preventing it. Miguel groaned in pleasure as he pushed your legs against your chest. He made sure there was a wide enough space for him to properly exhibit devotion to your pussy.
There, you exploded your second orgasm of the night. Miguel very well sensed this and kept kissing your cunt as a thank you for cumming for him. You thought he'd finally give you a rest, knowing how much tremble he got out of that simple cunnilingus.
Of course, that was what you thought until he jumped on your pussy again and started to lick and rub everything with his tongue, especially your sensitive clit.
Your body instinctively thrashed around him, only to be caged by his powerful grip on your thighs given how huge he was.
"Ah—ah… uh, u— Mi-Migueeel, wa— mmf!" You slapped the nearest pillow against your face as tears blurred your vision when your clit finally gave out again. He gave kitten licks against your vulva.
Seemed like Miguel took it as a challenge to get you to break for him. Not what he exactly wanted, but this was a process.
He ascended from your spent cunt and went beside you to get a hug. He caressed your naked breast underneath your shirt, massaging and clinging to it as he kissed the tears away, chuckling when you whimpered lowly.
Now, it was time to use his fingers.
"Shit," his hands found its way against your hole, and the way you tried to close it almost made him cum his pants.
You almost whine. You forgot how long and thick his fingers were compared to any of the guys you've been with. Of course, you would, and now you were going to be trained wonderfully by this behemoth of a man.
"Spread 'em wider for me, m'love," he wasn't even finished and you did as you were told. He chuckled. Cute.
"'M gonna fuck you with my fingers, all right? If you can't take it anymore, 's okay, let it all out…"
Needless to say, you woke up the next day unable to walk properly. Oh, he also kept pumping his fingers into your cunt sometimes that you almost passed out, sometimes glaring, but did you ever protest? Nope!
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c-nstantine · 6 months
Text
Things That Go Bump In The Night
Description: Vampire!Bruce Wayne fucks his maid
Warnings:Blood, Vampirism, Maid Costume, Cunnilingus
Word Count: 1.4k
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Y/N knew the job was a little sketchy but who could say no to this kind of money, especially in Gotham? When she saw the advertisement put out by the housekeeper of the old Wayne Manor, she figured why not? Being paid $19 an hour for simply cleaning up the house was almost too good to be true. However, sometimes you gotta get it how you live it.
There were three rules that the housekeeper, Mr. Alfred, instilled upon Y/N during her acceptance of the job. The first of which is that she must leave before the sun sets every day. The second was that if the door was locked, leave it be. Finally, she must wear an oddly sexualized maid uniform. Y/N did question the last one but Mr. Alfred swore that it was the way it had always been.
Y/N had been working at Wayne Manor for about two weeks and nothing odd had happened. Of course, occasionally there would be an odd creak here and there but Y/N wrote that off as the house is old. She did feel like she was being watched but that was just the amount of paintings that were trapped in the home. One time she asked Alfred whatever happened to the Wayne family, and he responded with "Sometimes it feels like old Master Wayne still lurks around,".
That was an odd statement to Y/N but she continued her work nonetheless. She found herself in the library of the manor and there was something so serene about it. She began to dust book after book until she was sure that there was dust stuck in her fluffed-out afro, which made her regret wearing her out today. For some reason, she felt more tired than usual and thought about taking a nap. Mr. Alfred had already left for the evening and there were plenty hours of daylight left. A little nap wouldn't hurt.
"What are you doing here?" A deep voice said, startling Y/N from her nap. A tall pale man stood over her. He had eyes as blue as lightning that touched the ground and his black hair was messy.
"Who are you?" Y/N responded standing up next to the man. In the two weeks that she had been working, she had yet to see another person other than Alfred. She also had to pull the already short skirt down because it left nothing to be desired. Of course, this only caused her cleavage to spill out even more.
"I asked first," The man said looking her up and down. Y/N felt self-conscious under his gaze but the man was simply drinking her. His eyes trailed everything that the damn uniform didn't hide.
"I'm the maid that Mr. Alfred hired," She said wrapping her arms around herself. Once again she forced her cleavage to be more prominent.
"So, he does have good taste after all," The brooding man licked his lips at the sight of the woman by the fireplace light.
"Huh? Who are you?" She asked once more stepping back away from the man before her.
"Bruce Wayne," He said, stepping to her once again. He cared not for her personal space, after all, it was she who was in his home.
"The Waynes all died. Everyone in Gotham knows that," Y/N stated as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.
"Then how am I standing right in front of you," Bruce pestered the younger woman. He could see the gears turning in her head.
"Are you a ghost?" In Y/N's defense, that was the most reasonable thing to assume with a creepy old house involved.
"No, I'm something better than a ghost. You smell nice," He leaned in next to her and sniffed just above her neck. Y/N found herself not being able to move.
"Excuse me?" This man was giving her whiplash. At first, he had seemed angry that she had been in his house after hours but now he seemed attracted to her.
"You smell nice. Virgin?" He asked, stepping closer to her once more. Y/N could no longer step back and was leaning against a shelf of the books that she had just cleaned.
"I guess it doesn't matter, you won't be after tonight," He spoke once more after Y/N didn't respond to the question.
"What are you talking about?" Her voice wavered. She was scared but something about him felt safe. She didn't like it.
"Do you want me to pretend that I can't smell you from here?" He whispered carefully. Y/N wanted to pretend that this entire situation wasn't turning her on. She squeezed her thighs together in hopes of something changing. Nor did she begin to question how this man could smell her arousal.
"Oh, sweet girl. Clenching those thick thighs doesn't hide the arousal," Bruce taunted and he forced his knee between her thighs to spread her legs. Y/N was almost a little too compliant with her actions but she wanted to see where this would go. Her skirt rose and just barely covered her panties.
"What do you want from me?" She asked as Bruce pressed himself against her. He didn't have the aura of someone trying to hurt her but rather please her.
"It's not what I want but what I can give you. I'll give you pleasure, but you'll have to do something for me later," Bruce was a bit ambiguous on the terms of the deal but that was his job in a way.
"Pleasure?" Y/N asked almost with a moan. If she didn't have any self-respect, she would've been riding that man's knee then and there.
"I will relieve that little ache between your legs. Just say 'yes'," He began to kiss down her chest and paused as he waited for her confirmation.
"Yes," Y/N sighed and the creature picked her up and bent her over the couch's arm that she was previously napping on.
"Good girl," He said as he yanked off her panties. There was a distinct ripping of the cotton fabric and Y/N whined. He simply hushed her while looking at his feast.
Y/N's stomach was pressed against the chair's arm as Bruce's tongue played with her clit. His tongue felt sharper than what she imagined and she swore she saw a fang earlier. Those notions were dropped from her mind when he spread her pussy lips to dive deeper inside of her. He continued to lick and prod while her pussy gripped nothing. He was having fun with this, she thought to herself. Bringing her to the first orgasm of the night, with nothing but his tongue.
"If your pussy tastes divine, I can't wait to see what your blood tastes like," Bruce said, giving a heavy smack to her ass. Y/N was too fucked out from her first orgasm to even comprehend the words that fell from his lips. She heard the dropping of his belt to the floor and the soft steps of him stepping out of his dress pants and underwear.
"I'll go slow for you since it is your first time. I make no guarantees for the future," Bruce said lining up his cock with her entrance. Just the head had gone in and Y/N was already moaning like a bitch in heat. Bruce simply chuckled. Her pussy was sucking him in but he remained strong and continued his strokes at a slow pace. That was until Y/N tried to push herself away from him.
"Good girls don't run from dick," He said while grabbing her hips. He held her in her place on the couch as he began to ram into her. Since she wanted to run, she would take all that he gave her. The echoes of skin slapping began to fill the library. Y/N never really thought about how she would lose her virginity but in a library by firelight sounded nice enough. Y/N's knees buckle and Bruce smirked as he continued to ram into her pussy. Y/N's moans were almost pornographic and the stimulation from his balls hitting her clit was what finally put her over the edge. Her eyes crossed for a second.
"Now, it's my turn," Bruce whispered. He sat Y/N up and she stood on shaky legs. Bruce pushed her afro out of the way and sniffed her neck. He bared his fangs and with a hiss, his teeth broke her skin and drank her blood. Y/N soon passed out and Bruce carried her up to his bed and left her there until she awoke, a new.
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exhaslo · 3 months
Note
not sure if your requests are still open but i'll throw mines in
a spider woman reader who's like Miguel's right hand person in the spider society, they're pretty prideful and have an ego (already in a relationship with him) one day she has to go on an anomaly mission, comes back but completely avoids everyone including him, turns out she got hit with some sex pollen and was too embarrassed to say anything and miguel still helps treat it 👌🏻👀
I'm going to officially open up my requests back soon, I just have a few more of these that were submitted to get done before I openly accept more requests!
But, ayeeeeeee haven't had a sex pollen one in a hot minute!
Warning: MINORS DNI, smut, fingering, overstimulation, begging, sex pollen
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"Stop....smirking," You said with a small whimper.
This was the most embarrassing moment in your life. At least right now it was. You were laying against a soft bed inside one of the spare rooms in the Spider Society, legs spread wide as your loving boyfriend decided to torment you. Miguel was enjoying this far more than he should.
"But (Y/N), it's so nice seeing you so submissive," He cooed against your ear, his talons tearing apart what little fabric you had left on,
"D-Don't....get used to....it," You cried out a soft moan, trembling towards the cold air hitting your cunt. Miguel lazily licked your bottom lip,
"You asked me to help, baby, so I'm helping...just slowly."
You shuddered, arching your back to try and get his touch. This was so embarrassing. You had never let Miguel see you this desperate. The two of you were always competing in your relationship with him, but this time...you had to cave.
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A few hours before this surprise event, you were sitting beside Miguel, helping him file some anomaly reports. Everyone assumed that you were his right hand woman-which you were-but you were also his girlfriend.
The two of you were still unsure of how dating between the multiverse would work, but it was impossible to keep the two of you away from one another. You were just as stubborn as he was and when you wanted something...you went to get it.
You had pride. You may have a bit of an ego, but Miguel loved that about you. He would get riled up whenever you bickered with him. It brought some spark to the relationship whenever the two of you tried to see who would cave first.
Sometimes it was you.
Sometimes Miguel.
Whoever the victory was got to take control of the night. You never wanted to admit it, but Miguel was a fucking god in bed. You would not hesitate to bend over for him, but at the same time, you would. You didn't want to admit that you liked him taking control.
"(Y/N)," Miguel hummed as his watch went off. You leaned your head back into his,
"Which big bad is it?"
"A Green Goblin," Miguel sighed. You got up and put the paperwork aside, "Be careful. It's on one of those Earths with no humans."
"Oh, fun." You said with a smirk and leaned down to peck Miguel's lips, "I'll have some peace and quiet for a bit."
"Sure. Be careful,"
"I always am."
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You were fucked. You were so fucking fucked. Yes, you had managed to complete the mission and capture the Green Goblin, but the cost? That bastard sent you flying into a field of strange flowers, whose pollen was now soaking your panties.
You tried to chase some relief before returning, but your fingers were not enough. You had made yourself cum twice, but you still needed more. Hurrying back to the Spider Society, you knew that you could hide in one of the spare rooms.
If masturbating wasn't going to fix this, then you needed to stay under a cold shower.
Passing by everyone, you hurried to the rooms. You couldn't afford to let anyone find out. Gasping, you spotted Miguel heading your way. Your pussy clenched as you thought about his dick railing you. His hard cock fitting so perfectly inside your desperate cunt.
"(Y/N)? Are you alright?" Miguel asked. You shuddered lowly,
"Fine," Your voice cracked.
"No, you-"
"I-I'm fine!"
You were biting the inside of your cheek as you rushed off. Your body was burning up and being so close to Miguel almost made you pounce on him. This was horrible. You didn't want Miguel to see you like this.
Finally entering the room, you laid on the bed and screamed into the pillow. You needed to take a cold shower, but you wanted to relieve some of this pain first. Thinking about Miguel's dick inside you only made your symptoms worse!
"Hah~ Ah, Miguel...fuck..." You cried, furiously rubbing your clit, "F-Fuck...I...I need...m-more."
"(Y/N)? What's going on?!" Miguel quickly shut the door as he hurried to your side.
You cussed, laying on your back as you continued to rub your clit. Tears formed in the corner of your eyes as you made eye contact with Miguel.
"I-I got hit with...some pollen. Miguel, fuck...I-I ah~ can't do this by myself!" You cried, unable to take the pain.
"Ay dios mio (My god), (Y/N), you have to let me know shit like this. I'm here to help you, damnit."
You whimpered as Miguel removed your hands, replacing them with his. Your body jolted forward, moaning louder as you felt his thick digits pump into your wet velvet walls. Your pussy sounded so slutty as Miguel pumped into you.
"M-Mig, r-right there!"
"I've heard about the sex pollen. Never seen the effects up close," Miguel hummed, watching you cum against his fingers alone, "It's nice seeing you like this."
"Stop....smirking," You said with a small whimper.
"But (Y/N), it's so nice seeing you so submissive," He cooed against your ear, his talons tearing apart what little fabric you had left on,
"D-Don't....get used to....it," You cried out a soft moan, trembling towards the cold air hitting your cunt. Miguel lazily licked your bottom lip,
"You asked me to help, baby, so I'm helping...just slowly."
You cried and squirmed as Miguel rubbed the tip of his dick against your cunt. You shuddered and cried, begging him to just fuck you already. His dick was coated in your juices and you were ready to have him coat your insides white.
"M-Miguel, please...please, please, fuck me!" You kept begging. Miguel held your hips, pushing his dick in slowly,
"I'm never going to hear such sweet begs again, am I?" He asked, resting his dick inside your tight walls, "You took me in so well,"
"M-Move, please! It hurts."
Miguel frowned as he stroked your cheek and pulled you in for a kiss. His hips started to sway into yours, finally giving you what you wanted.
"Just let me know when it goes away," Miguel whispered.
You whimpered and moaned as you held onto your boyfriend. His thick dick pounding your fleshy core. Your vision was blurring as your body kept cumming from pleasure. Your core still burning, begging to be filled to the brim.
With each thrust, you felt you body jolt. No matter how deep and rough Miguel was hitting, you still wanted more. The bedsheets below you were stained in your juices as you kept crying for him. Your body trembling from the overwhelming pleasure.
Gasping as you felt Miguel fill you with his cum, you whimpered for more. Miguel placed you on your knees, pressing your face into the pillow as he railed you from behind. Your hands curled into fists as you tried not to pass out.
"Mig~ Mig! More!" You kept crying out.
You were losing count of how many times you cam. You were losing count of how many times Miguel's dick hit your cervix. All you felt was how hot and wet your insides were. The numbing feeling of his dick pounding into your horny pussy.
"Mhm~ Ah~"
You were a babbling mess, whimpering and moaning to each thrust. Right now, you didn't care about your pride. All you cared about what Miguel filling you up. Gasping, you felt your body burst once more as a cooling feeling washed over you.
"Fuck, hn, (Y/N)!" Miguel grunted as he slapped himself at a rougher pace.
"Ah~" You felt some of your senses return as you felt him cum inside you once more.
Panting heavily, you tried to say something, but your voice was cracked. Shuddering, you moaned as Miguel continued his rough thrusts. The sex pollen had finally wore off, but your body was so sensitive and fucked out that you didn't want to stop.
"Mig~"
After another few rounds, you were spent. You body laid against the bed, exhausted and weak. Miguel went to start a bath and returned for you, picking you up with ease. You just leaned against him, whimpering at the slightest touch.
"Shh, it's going to be a while until you're good." Miguel warned as he placed you in the bath with him, "Next time this happens, you need to come straight to me."
"...No...next time." You whispered tiredly. Miguel just chuckled in response,
"I know, I know. You won't get caught in this again," He hummed, kissing your head in response, "Sex pollen or not, I'll happily fuck you into submission."
"Mhm,"
You weren't going to argue this time. Not when you were already exhausted. Closing your eyes, you decided to let Miguel take care of you tonight. He deserved it for having to deal with your issue. Scoffing quietly, you also deserved to relax after being railed who knows how many times.
"Mig,"
"Hm?"
"Analyze....the pollen...I'm going...to need revenge."
"No,"
You just pouted, slowly falling asleep against him. Miguel was never going to let you live this down. He enjoyed it too much and you were not going to get the pollen yourself.
Guess you'll just have to take this loss.
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Hope you enjoyed!!!
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