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#but the strawberry is like sinister
strawberrynida · 5 months
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Jewelry-Tober Day #8 Potion Themed
🧪Did you know that until the 1850's there was no regulation of poisonous substances? 🦠You could essentially go to the grocery store, fill up your own glass bottle of rat poison or what have you, and be merrily on your way (Citation below lol). This necklace is inspired by Victorian glass bottles simply through this beautiful little heart charm. 🩶
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I also focused on making this necklace simple enough to wear with a T-shirt and jeans and to keep the item affordable. As much as I love very heavy and intricate necklaces, sometimes you need something a bit more subdued for an everyday look 🤍🩶🍓🫶🏼 ♥ This necklace paperclip necklace with pearls, glass beads, and heart charm is available on my Etsy for $20. You may click on my website/caard link in bio or simply type @Strawberrynida into Etsy to access. ♥ Necklace Dimensions: 17 inches at its tightest, 20 inches fully extended. In Text Citation LOL: Kelly, Robert. “Bottles Used to Get Mixed up | The Oldham Times.” The Old Ham Times, www.theoldhamtimes.co.uk/news/19877436.bottles-used-get-mixed/. Accessed 17 Oct. 2023.
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pssstttt, use code “TUMBLR” for a discount!
All socials are under the username StrawberryNida with the same profile picture.
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My account is a safe place for any kind, strawberry-loving, person <3.
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burned
percy jackson x gn! reader — you’re all alone in an alley in NYC. what could go wrong??
tw — violence
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You’re cold.
You’re cold and afraid, shaking in an alley somewhere in downtown New York.
You try to think about camp. About the rolling hills, the sweet strawberries, the campfire. About your friends, about target practice, the climbing walls.
Percy should be here. He should’ve been here— you check your watch — fifteen minutes ago. But he’s not, and your thoughts are running wild.
The wind howls louder. You shut your eyes.
The wound on your leg stings. You’re coiled around it, hunched forward in a meager attempt to shield it from whatever. Meet back here in 30, you’d told him. He nodded; you drew your dagger and he lifted riptide out of its sheath. And then you went separate ways, a desperate attempt to get the monsters off your trail, to confuse them by being in two places at once. It’d worked, partially, and you would’ve been fine, except for the fact that he’s not here. So you’re not fine.
There’s a commotion at the mouth of the alley, and your head snaps up.
A woman stumbles into view, smartly dressed with long blonde hair down to her waist. She notices you, and you freeze.
“Excuse me, do you have a map? I just can’t seem to—”
“y/n, no!”
Percy’s voice echoes off the walls, and your heart drops at his audible panic.
Her smile turns from airheaded to sinister. Fangs peek over her bottom lip.
Multiple things happen at once.
You lunge forward, dagger in hand, but she grabs your wrist with a vice grip. She squeezes, and squeezes, and you’re certain she’s going to snap your wrist in half when Percy rushes in, almost runs headfirst into the brick wall.
She wrenches the knife from your hand and turns it on you. Percy lifts riptide. You stumble backwards; the tip of riptide shines through her chest.
Two blades are thrusted forward. Twin gasps of pain meet your ears.
One of them sounds suspiciously like you.
The woman dissolves, dust flaking away to reveal Percy, breathing hard. His face is bruised. It’s upsetting, even though you really should be used to it by now. You just wish he would get hurt less.
Something throbs under your ribs. It feels like a cramp, but it gets worse and worse until it burns, You’re burning—
Your knees buckle and Percy runs to you. Your head doesn’t hit the ground, so you assume he caught you.
The entire left side of you is on fire. You can feel your heartbeat in your fingertips.
The delicate skin around his eye is blooming an angry red. You reach out for it weakly, and he winces when your knuckle brushes the bruise.
“You’re hurt,” you say quietly.
Percy gently grabs your hand, lowers it from his face. “I’m okay,” he soothes. “I’m right here.”
Why does he feel so far away then?
His hands move again. You’re still cold.
Your eyes flutter, tongue lead in your mouth. You realize with dim fascination that he’s cradling your face. It’d be quite intimate if your vision wasn’t darkening at the edges.
“You’re gonna be okay. They’re almost here. Just… just stay with me.”
You have so many questions. Who’s they? Why are his hands so warm?
Percy’s looking at you with a fear in his eyes that shakes you to your very bones. His eyes rake over your face as if he’ll never see you again. You still don't understand. All you know is the sinking feeling in your chest, the creeping nothing in the corners of your eyes, and the dull ache in your side.
You don't remember closing your eyes, but you do remember Percy shaking you.
“y/n,” he pleads, voice trembling in a way that you haven't heard before. “It’s alright. Just open your eyes for me, yeah? Please— please.”
He’s shivering. You feel absolutely horrible about the whole ordeal, despite your very limited understanding of the situation. You want to assure him it’ll probably be fine, that you’ll bounce back because you guys always bounce back, but this time you’re not sure.
“I’m sorry,” you rasp, the words sandpaper in your throat.
The darkness swallows you whole.
── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──
lmk if I should write a part two? I dunno if anyone will read it
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mischiefmoons · 29 days
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trouble's coming for you
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a 'partners in crime' installment - luke castellan x dionysus!reader
words: 3.7k
summary: (established relationship) suggestive banter lol The one where Percy meets his two favorite counselors at Camp Half-Blood. Also known as the three times Percy is completely oblivious about you two, plus the time he learns what L-O-V-E looks like for two teen demigods. (Luke Castellan x fem!Dionysus!reader)
a/n: PERCY POV!!! maybe the real enemy was the blue balls Luke got from a clueless 12-year-old. you’re gonna tell me you wouldn’t overthrow the gods too? scream at me in the comments and feel free to reblog :)
(posted 2/29/24, edited!!! i think!!! four hours of sleep later and a big kiss to @hotchfiles miss lari as always for inspo mwah)
What’s in a name?
One of the last defining memories Percy Jackson had with his mother before arriving at Camp Half-Blood was her reminder that names have power. He’s held fast to that belief, treading carefully with his words in this unfamiliar place that he’s supposed to call home so soon after losing his own.
Being the new kid for the hundredth time in his life means that he’s accustomed to change, much less introducing himself as Percy Jackson, whatever that means at this point—but then becoming known simply as the kid who causes trouble. What then, is he supposed to do, when his first friend at camp introduces him to a girl who embodies the name trouble? 
To Luke, through Percy’s actions, it seems as if he’s trying to reclaim a crown that currently belongs to the beloved head counselor of Camp Half-Blood.
The dining pavilion is filled with mouth-watering scents and the sound of chattering campers to the point that it’s a bit overstimulating if he thinks too hard about it. Mr. Brunn—er, Chiron told him to take it easy after the events from yesterday, but he feels a bit tough on luck after making Luke run circles around camp trying to find what he’s good at.
“Is there a Greek god of disappointment? Maybe someone should ask if he’s missing a kid,” Percy says glumly, pushing the mac and cheese around on his plate. Luke sighs, letting the boy to his right speak.
“Oizys,” Chris mumbles through full cheeks before he cocks his head at the 12-year-old, “but she’s a goddess, and her whole thing isn’t really disappointment, it’s more like failure.”
Luke looks to Chris with a half smile before looking back at the kid and saying, “We’re gonna find the thing you’re good at. I know it.” He looks like he’s going to say something else before something, or someone catches his attention and it’s almost like the older boy is transfixed, eyes shining with mischief or something deeper that Percy’s young brain couldn’t comprehend just yet. 
“And here comes trouble…” Luke says with a smirk, eyes following your figure until your feet take you to their table. The sandy-haired boy twists around, expecting to see a goddess of some sort until he sees you, violet eyes and a lilt of something sinister—giving off the energy of someone who holds power but also likes to fuck with it. You cross your arms over your chest, gaze floating over the three boys and at the tip of your chin, Luke takes his plate off the table, prompting you to hop up and slide onto the smooth surface in front of him. 
“You look like someone kicked your puppy, so you must be the new kid. Peter, right?”
A snort of laughter comes from behind your slouched form, Luke partially concealed but body obviously shaking with amusement as he looks at you.
“He might just turn out to be a puppy kicker one day,” the son of Hermes jokes, “Meet Percy Jackson.”
“That’s not…”
You sigh at Luke’s idea of a joke, face incredulous as you lean over and conjure strawberries onto Percy’s plate. He’d never seen anything like that before, someone so casual about their abilities, but he didn’t have much of a reference past yesterday. This camp keeps surprising him in ways he’s never imagined possible.
“Heard D gave you a hard time earlier, sorry about him—I’d blame it on withdrawals but he’s just an asshole,” you offer with a smile and a handshake as you introduce yourself, watching the boy’s eyes widen with wonder.
“It’s not your fault…I’m used to being the new kid.”
Eyebrows furrowing at his tone, you lean in closer, voice turning serious. You’re a lot like Mr. D in the sense that it’s easy for you to poke at the kids who come through here for a reaction to make sure they’re okay mentally. When they don’t react is usually the call for help.
“Well, new kid, if anyone gives you a problem here at camp, you let me know. Even if it’s these two hooligans, or if it’s my dad.”
“You’re talking to our lovely head counselor, Percy. She calls the shots around here,” Chris chimes in jest. But only one part of your sentence sticks in his mind as he whips his head up from munching on a berry. 
“He’s your dad?”
“Yeah, unfortunately,” you giggle, “and though you’re sweet and I would love to have you as a sibling, he kind of has a rule on having too many kids at once, unlike other gods.”
“A rule he’s already broken,” Luke drones, hand fidgeting with the black bandana tied around your thigh, “but who knows? If Percy ends up to be one of you, well…may the gods have mercy on us all.”
A deadpan stare is directed at the scarred boy, and you swipe at his curls like a feral cat, making him wince and laugh all the same as he bats you away.
“Tough shit, 11. Do you know how many hellions inhibit your cabin? Your dad inflicts agony on me personally every time another one of your siblings walks past the boundaries.”
The petty squabble is interrupted by the chime of the bell over your heads, but you two are still in a world of your own. It reminds Percy of the time he watched two subway rats fight over a pizza slice on the 6—he didn’t really know who to root for then either. Chris sighs and gets up, nudging Luke to follow, which he does begrudgingly as he claps his large hand on your leg. You hiss.
“Our turn!” Luke says with a hint of sarcasm. 
“Our turn for what?”
“Burnt offerings,” you explain as you chomp on a strawberry, “the gods like the smell, so it gets their attention before you say a prayer.” You notice Percy stay in his seat, which makes a smile pull at your lips, “Think you’re off the hook for today though, bud. Or you can be just like me.”
“Don’t give him any ideas, trouble. I’ll throw in a few for Hestia.” Luke chews at his lip as he leans over you to grab a few berries off of Percy’s plate to toss into the fire for you. 
“You don’t pray?”
“I’m not really the religious type. I’ve got what I need,” you concede, leaning back on your palms as you watch the son of Hermes stand for a few extra seconds at the hearth. “Besides, my godrent is right over there, and Luke worries enough for me. It’s more his thing,” you say with a lazy smile. The campers filing out of the dining hall wave at you and you enthusiastically greet everyone with dancing fingers. He doesn’t think he’s ever met anyone that…happy to be on the job, but things work differently around here, so he doesn’t think much of your upbeat attitude.
“Eat up. Some of that strength has to go to you. Gonna need it.” You say ruffling Percy’s hair, and when Luke comes back, he tugs at the shoelaces of your boots until you kick his hands away. You both share a smile like people do a secret, even here in the open air.
“Do they like the smell of burnt mac and cheese?” Percy says curiously, eating another spoonful of the meal. His head hurts at another thing to consider in this brand-new world he’s walked into.
“They like the smell of begging,” Luke grins, and you laugh like a firework going off, making Percy’s lips pull up into a smile.
“I’m not much of a beggar though, if you ask me.”
The son of Hermes hums at you like he wants to say otherwise, and you slap his chest as you suck air through your teeth. Beneath the wood top of the table and with Percy being none the wiser, your fingers intertwine with Luke’s like it’s second nature. 
“You burn what you’ll miss the most. Then they know you really mean what you’re about to say, so they listen.” 
Luke takes a breath after explaining how things work for the nth time to the kid, knowing Percy’s quite persistent about making his dad notice him. He remembers being jaded too—striving to be the best for a lick of his dad’s attention and all of his efforts were done in vain. Even though the kid’s arrival at camp was a bit unexpected, Luke doesn’t mind showing him around. 
Hopefully, less work on your end means that he can spend more time with you once this is over with— but by the looks of how the day is going so far, he’s not so sure. He hopes his offerings reach the gods and they grant him extra patience for his good deeds. Watching you laugh at something Percy says as you all walk out of the dining pavilion, Luke wonders if you know that every offering he burns for the goddess of the hearth and home is so that she’ll protect you.
—-
“Lights out in 10 minutes, cabin 11! Everyone ready for bed?”
The sound of your voice jolts Percy awake from his post-dinner nap and he blinks slowly until he sees you walking towards him with extra blankets and pillows in your grasp. The other campers were kind of stand-offish, and after praying to his mom he was overwhelmed with the feeling of missing her, so much so that it drained the rest of his energy.
“Long day, huh bud?”
Drowsy with sleep, for a moment, Percy forgets where he is—the unfamiliar walls of the cabin making him shift with unease as he rubs at his eyes. The blurry version of you makes his chest go warm and for a second, it’s like—
“Mom?”
He blinks again, his pale face turning red when he realizes his slip-up. Percy’s shoulders drop when he hears giggles from somewhere in the big cabin and you reach out to smooth his hair away from his face with a gentle smile.
“Don’t worry about it. Everyone who first comes to 11 gets nightmares. For some of them, they don’t leave,” you mutter. Percy notices your eyes flicker over to Luke’s bed, where he’s zipping up his hoodie and chatting with one of his half-siblings. Cabin 11 is finally quieting down for the night—children scrambling into their bunks, doing nighttime routines, and having quiet conversations. It’s all so weird, this being everyone’s normal.
“You’re not alone though. Saw you earlier, outside. I still pray to my mom sometimes. She's quite the listener,” you say with a sad twinkle in your eye. The kid sniffs as you hand him the pillows and blankets, finally meeting your gaze.
“Did your mom…” Die too? The words feel like lead in his throat, feeling heavy as he swallows it down. He doesn’t want to cry in front of the pretty counselor, much less speak the truth, because if he says it out loud, it means his mom dying must have been real. Also since you’ve seen him sit in the dark of the forest burning blue jelly beans like a freak. What he didn’t know is that you pride yourself on being one. It takes one to know one, after all.
“Yeah. Makes for one hell of an origin story, but I found my place here, and people who care. I know you will too, when you’re rea—” Your words trail off when you see Luke walk past the both of you with a cool expression before he nods towards the door, and you squeeze Percy’s shoulder before getting up.
“Night guys! It’s getting late so we’ll have to do a story next time, okay?” You walk down the aisle patting heads and tucking in smaller campers, and he hears you whack the younger Stoll brother when he teasingly says, “It’s not fair that Luke gets a bedtime story and we don’t…”
“Connor, enough. I’ve lost count of how many times you’ve woken up and called me mom, so save it for tomorrow.” He must have been the one laughing earlier.
“Everyone say goodnight trouble!” Luke calls out with a coy expression, making you roll your eyes as you flick the light off to a symphony of jeers. It’s finally quiet as Percy is propped up against some pillows that smell like raspberries and soft cotton before he realizes he has to pee. 
But Chris said harpies hunt kids after curfew… he thinks.
In a moment of sheer panic, Percy looks around in the darkness of the cabin before the sound of your cackling pierces through the dim light from the outside. He hops up from the makeshift cot and tugs his shoes back on, slowly creeping past the long row of bunks to not disturb other campers before he gets to the door. Your head turns quickly to the intrusion as you spring away from Luke, stubbing a cigarette underneath the wood panel out of sight when Percy steps through the doorway. 
“Sorry, I need to use the bathroom,” he says sheepishly as Luke nods, scratching his neck and leaning a far distance away from you. Under the low burning lamps, Percy notices Luke’s cheeks redden and he wonders if he is interrupting something, but the urge to go increases as he steps between you two.
“Right. I’ll walk you to yours?” Luke blurts in one breath. With a wordless smile on your lips, you nod before Percy purposely interrupts this time.
“I can walk her, it’s on the way to the bathrooms, right?”
If only this poor kid knew he was being the cockblock of the century.
“Yeah, Percy’s got me. The harpies won’t like you missing curfew, Castellan,” you tease, stepping around him with a shit-eating grin. Your hair almost floats in the gentle breeze, and Luke rolls his eyes.
“Stay out of trouble. I mean it,’ he sighs, before shoving you off the porch, and you laugh at the irony of his words. Looking back at Luke, Percy noticed his eyes were on you like he wanted to live in your skin, which was equal parts disgusting and confusing to the 12-year-old. His steps double in pace as you both walk down the path and a brief side glance at your stifled smile quickly makes the kid wonder if you’d let him. Pushing the sleeves of Luke’s hoodie past your elbows, you wave at Percy’s rushing figure as he almost bolts to the bathroom and you lean against the doorway of your empty cabin. You turn the light on and look across the way to see your boyfriend still leaning against his door, so you flip him off. Of course, he takes that as his cue to saunter over.
But then the loud clanging sound of pipes bursting reaches both of your ears and toilet water floods the dirt near the back end of your cabin. 
So close.
“I’m gonna go check on Annie to see if she’s still on duty. Tough luck, babe,” you giggle, pressing a kiss to his cheek before walking in the direction that Percy went, sending the son of Hermes to drag his feet towards your cabin, alone (he didn’t expect to fall asleep propped over your covers waiting up for you, but a lot happened in that damn bathroom).
“Hey, today feel like a winning kind of day to you?” Annabeth smirks at the son of Hermes. Next to them, Percy feels a hand clap him on the shoulder and all three of them turn to see you donning red.
“Didn’t you three hear the conch? Wouldn’t want you to fall behind,” you say with a grin as Luke steps up to you and whistles lowly.
“Didn’t know you were playing today. It’s a shame you look that good in red.”
Annabeth fake gags as she crosses her arms to say, “You’re also currently on enemy territory if you haven’t noticed.”
“Oh, you wound me. I’m not a threat. Percy, I obviously don’t have the flag, right?”
He nods a bit dumbly, still worried about the mechanics of the game and the part he has to play for the blue team, but no one else seems to share his concerns.
“Anyways, sorry I’m not on your team, Perce. The Ares kids snatched me up as soon as my name was on the roster, so I came to wish you all luck.”
“This better not be a diversion tactic, trouble,” Luke simpers, playfully tugging at your staff, which you use for leverage to step up onto a rock to meet him at eye level.
“Nah. You know I like the competition, angelface,” you whisper, almost daring him to do something.
“Bite me, trouble.”
There’s a fire in his eyes you’d love to stoke, but now’s not the time or place. You can’t help but indulge though—the both of you enjoy the reactions you can pull from each other.
“You’d like it too much.”
“Alright now,” Annabeth groans, calling your name, rolling her eyes as she pulls at Luke’s arm, “Gotta remember he’s your enemy!” 
“I’M TRYING!” You laugh, shaking your head and walking back towards your team as you shoot them a fake salute. It all happens too quickly as Percy’s unable to catch the spitfire words between the two of you, thinking further about how he might get maimed during this game (which in the grand scheme of things, he almost does. Thanks Clarisse).
“Those two are hopeless! Walk faster, sunshine—we lost too much time watching whatever that was.” Percy stumbles along the forest path as he follows Annabeth, the both of them leaving Luke smirking to himself as he follows the rest of their team. 
Hours later, at Clarisse’s muddy feet and holding her broken spear, Percy hears cheering in the distance as he watches the blue team led by Luke waving the red flag in one hand and your legs supported by his other. You’re in a fireman’s hold across his shoulders and everyone watches as the son of Hermes spins you around like a Tilt-a-Whirl until the sound of your shrieks is audible from the shoreline. He sets you down gently, dominant hand still around your waist as he snickers, “Got my win and my girl. Must be time to celebrate.” You laugh at his absurdity, pulling his helmet off and wiping the sweat off his forehead with your bandana.
“You’re always going to be a loser in my eyes.” 
Slapping the plush of your hip, the sound echoes in the air—suddenly quiet as you gasp. But you’re not looking at Luke anymore, but rather the gleaming trident above Percy’s head as it’s revealed he’s a forbidden child. His jaw tightens at the sight, and there are a lot of emotions running through him, remembering Thalia and knowing that his plans will have to be altered once more because of Percy Jackson. You squeeze his hand before walking away from him to follow your dad and Chiron to the Big House, shooting him a nervous glance.
Damn.
The boys have been sparring for hours, and just as you think Percy’s getting the hang of it, Luke thrusts forward with an energy no one should have towards a 12-year-old. Although a bit concerning, he does have a lot to catch up on how to fight like a demigod before his quest in a few days.
“Take a break or else you’ll be crawling away from camp by the end of the week,” you joke, handing Percy and Luke bottles of cold water. Your boyfriend takes big gulps before pouring the rest over his head, leaving you gaping and a little hot under his stare as he nudges your chin and winks.
“You’re doing that on purpose!”
Luke shrugs slyly, and the both of you watch Percy catch his breath. He leans over your shoulder, the tone of his voice sultry as it tickles your ear, “What’s in a name? That which we call a rose, by any other word would smell as sweet.” 
You bite your lip, before bursting with laughter—which isn’t exactly the reaction he thought you’d have. Maybe he should’ve finished reading the sonnet before falling asleep, but you always take too long with your nighttime skincare routine.
“That doesn’t mean what you think it means, but you’re cute for trying,” you coo, leaning closer so that your cheek touches his. Luke’s whole face is warm from exertion and now embarrassment, but he smiles nonetheless at the proximity. He can’t believe he still misses you, even when you’re skin-to-skin like this.
“That stanza…Isn’t it about names being meaningless?” Percy says between gasps of air before he pours the rest of the water bottle over his head like Luke did. He’s looking up at the both of you as he leans against a tree, instantly feeling more rejuvenated.
You jerk up from your seated position on the large rocks, excited to talk about Shakespeare, and Luke almost pouts at the loss of your attention.
“Yeah! Good job, bud. I forget you went to a hoity-toity charter school,” you say tongue-in-cheek, before turning back to your boy.
“So Romeo would, were he not Romeo called, retain that dear perfection which he owes without that title. Romeo, doff thy name, and, for thy name, which is no part of thee, take all myself. You’re gonna have to interpret that one yourself, angelface.” 
“Trust I have no fucking clue but you sound really hot when you talk dirty to me,” Luke says with a shrug. Percy laughs at that, before finally bringing up the question that’s been on his mind since Luke introduced you to him.
“Why do you call her trouble? She seems okay to me.”
“Thanks,” you say dryly, but the older boy leans on his arm with a lovestruck expression as he gazes at you. Oh…Percy thinks, brain feeling freshly washed. How did he miss that?
“She used to get in trouble a lot,” he says, before you elbow him hard, “I mean, we used to get in trouble, she’d always drag me into it.”
“You always offered! Don’t twist the fucking story,” you shriek, and the boys laugh at your exasperation.
“Yeah anyways, she’d always find me. Still does, my partner in crime. Trouble always comes for me,” Luke murmurs, waggling his eyebrows and intertwining your fingers together. Your jaw drops and cheeks flush and Percy thinks he understands better now, but gets confused again with what you do next.
You almost slap the goddamn scar off that boy’s face.
It is a terrible thing to be so open: it is as if my heart put on a face and walked into the world. -Sylvia Plath
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murdrdocs · 2 months
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dark content; ghostface!luke; explicit sexual content; MDNI
you have your suspicions that luke castellan isn't the man he portrays himself to be.
beneath his mournful gaze, woven between his sorrowful words, you're so sure that luke is insincere. his words of condolences to other campers lack a certain depth. his motivational speeches, always on the topic of remaining brave in the face of fear that these tragic incidents are creating, are disingenuous.
it's only natural that you have to investigate.
sneaking out past curfew on nights you weren't patrolling, offering to take up someone else's shift or just being there to provide a second set of eyes. but not on the scenery. on him.
because you're fairly certain that the monster isn't coming from outside of camp.
eventually you catch him standing in the center of the strawberry field facing away from you, swinging his sword as if the weapon is simply attached to his arm, the infamous mask described by others sticking out of his back pocket for you to notice.
you've seen luke fight. he's trained you in combat. you know that if he wanted to kill you, he would barely have any trouble doing so.
you would put up a good fight, but you would end up on your knees, waiting for the fatal blow.
is that why you don't bother fighting in the first place? or is it for some sicker, more sinister reason?
you like to think that your lack of resistance derives from knowing deep down that it would have failed. but it's hard not to consider the other implications whenever luke is smirking down at you, holding the weapon he affectionately introduced as backbiter to your neck, and your blood is rushing to places it shouldn't be.
your limbs should be taking most of the blood flood, creating a vibration in your legs and arms that would get you out of this situation quickly if need be. instead, your blood has rushed to your center, creating a thump! thump! that luke's hand—cupping your mound under your bottoms and above your panties—definitely can feel.
confirming your suspicions, luke's eyebrows furrows as he speaks. "is that?..."
your throat dries out. your nostrils flare as you take a sharp inhale designed to disguise the way you urge to roll your eyes back when luke starts to rub his hand along your center.
"are you turned on right now?"
the way he says it is so fucking cruel, but you honestly can't blame him.
it's deplorable, your behavior. your head tipped back not only to attempt to avoid the sharp tip of luke's blade against your jugular, but also because luke's fingers pumping in and out of you is so sinfully delicious.
here, in the middle of the field, surrounded by strawberries with the scent wafting to your nose with every gust of wind, you hope that the wind doesn't carry your noises.
the two of you are only lit by the torches off in the distance and the moonlight up above, providing a shameful spotlight onto your bodies. one standing strong and tall, shoulders pushed back with assurance and horrifying confidence making his gaze hard as he stares at you over the slope of his nose. and the other, slumped over with your head resting on luke's shoulder as an orgasm forces itself through your body.
it's wrong to curl up in the arms of a killer. it's idiotic to feel safe there.
backbiter has been stabbed into the dirt, sticking up straight, and with his freed hand luke cups the back of your head, stroking the area while his fingers replicate a similar motion in your panties.
"sh, it's okay, just let it happen, angel," he tells you, voice a rough whisper.
(does his voice sound deeper, or is that your subconscious acknowledging his sins?)
"i know you're feeling guilty, being with someone like me." he chuckles dryly as your orgasm fades out. "but it's okay. i promise you. i won't hurt you."
you know you shouldn't believe his words. but this is luke, the guy you at least thought you could trust with your life.
you do know you can trust him to give you a good orgasm, as his fingers refuse to stop within you, the digits picking up speed despite your feeble protests in the form of wobbly words.
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mntozakii · 3 months
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thinking about stepbrother jeno who is secretly obsessed with his little sister 💭
warnings: handjob wonk womk
[NOT FINISHED YET I ACCIDENTALLY POSTED IT FHDJJSJSJ]
when his mother decides to marry again, jeno didn't expect to meet such cute and pretty thing like you. he learns that you are a few years younger than him and has two little brothers.
on the wedding day, he tries to make conversation with you but failed miserably. you didn't even bother to look at him and only speak a few words.
yeah, jeno admits that you're a doll but he has decided that he hates you. he thinks that you're such a princess and probably gets whiny when things don't go in your way.
"daddy, can i go home?"
"daddy, it's so cold"
"daddy, i wanna go home"
ugh, such a demanding darling, he wants to hate you but you look so adorable begging to your father.
being the kind person he is, jeno offers to drive you home. at first, he plans to talk about the bratty attitude but immediately changes his mind when you apologize first.
"jeno, i'm so sorry for being rude this evening" you mutter softly as you tell him about your flu. his palm immediately goes to your forehead and gasps at the burning heat, you must've felt fatigued for hours.
"it's okay sweetheart, you should take a rest" he reassures as he buckles up your seatbelt, you are quick to fall asleep as he drives you home.
jeno meets you for the second time when your father invites him for dinner at home. after that, jeno regularly schedule a meeting with his new baby sister. it is clear that he has a favourite among his step siblings but to not make it obvious, he meets with your little brothers and spends time with them too.
you have always feel jealous of your friends who have an older brother, all your little brothers do is bully you. hence, you love being around jeno; your step brother who is kind, caring, and gentle.
jeno who picks you up from the dormitory so you can stay at his home during the weekend, he will bring you to a cat cafe because you've been telling him how much you miss your cats.
jeno who brings you on a yacht trip so he can be with you all the time, he loves when you are sitting close to him with the prettiest top that does nothing to cover your chest.
his hands linger around your body as he listens to stories about your stupid crush on a boy named haechan. jeno thinks that you look so adorable giggling and twirling your hair merely by thinking about a date, such a cutie loser.
your lovely jeno who lets you sit on his lap as he reapply the sunscreen on your face and body. however, he takes an extra time to put it on your back as his thoughts run wild, it would be nice to have you on his cock.
jeno asks the chef to prepare strawberry smoothie because he knows how much you love it. he keeps you seated on his lap as he watches you drink the large sized smoothie while his gaze is fixed on your tummy.
"baby, you have to finish it" jeno stops you from putting the glass down on the mini table, he clicks his tongue in disapproval when he hears you whine.
"it's good for your health" jeno whispers and kisses your cheek when you finish it all. when jeno notices that you're getting antsy, his lips curled into a sinister smirk before bouncing you on his lap.
your bladder is so full but you're just too shy to tell jeno that you want to go to the restroom, you bit on your lower lip as you try to focus on jeno's stories about the movie he watches last night. he loves seeing you struggle to keep your composure up, he can only laugh when you ran off to go to the restroom.
jeno who likes to provide for his princess !!
even though your father has told him to not give you any allowance, he will still let you to keep his credit card and spend it as much as you want. jeno doesn't mind seeing his account gets billed thousands at the end of the month, as long as you're happy then he's happy.
whenever you
when jeno gets home from work, he didn't expect to see you crying in his room. you quickly run to his arms and sob pathetically as he rubs your back to comfort you.
the date went well except for one part, you learn that you give terrible handjob. haechan doesn't say it explicitly but it feels humiliating to know that you're bad at it by judging his reaction.
"nono, please teach me how to do it" jeno feels dizzy when you make a little wanking movement before you try to unbuckle his belt. you even promised to not tell anyone and made pinky promise with jeno so what could possibly go wrong?
jeno tells you to sit down on the bed and unbuckles his belt, he unzips his pants before pulling out his semi-hard cock. he stands dangerously close to you and chuckles seeing you stare at him with glossy eyes.
"princess, can you spit on my hand?" jeno holds out his palm and pats your head when you obey him. he starts stroking himself while the other hand plays with your hair before he wipes the tear on your cheek.
"you can be gentle or firm with it" jeno tells as he glides his thumb on the bulbous tip, he gives himself a nice and consistent stroke as he watches your reaction. it is honestly endearing seeing you pay attention to him, he bet that you'd take note using your zebra pens if you could.
jeno takes your hand and wraps it around his cock, he puts his hand over yours and continues jerking himself off.
"jeno, does it feel good?" you ask out of curiousity as you watch the way his cock grow bigger and the tip looks painfully hard.
you're too good, jeno can't even form a sentence. he just hums lazily and gently tug on your hair to take a better look of your fce.
"you did well so baby, let's practice more, hmm?"
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shushbambi · 3 days
Note
toxic!ex rafe begging for the reader to get back with him!!!! <3
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r.c. ┆ quit.
༘˙𓂃𑁤 idk what this is… enjoy toxic!ex rafe, my loves ♡ (& send in concepts/thots!)
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"c'mon, baby," rafe groaned deeply, continuing the obnoxious banging that his strong, large fists made, making you squirm in shock, disbelief, and the slightest hint of fear.
"baby," rafe warned, rolling his steel blue eyes at the fact that you just wouldn't open the damn door for him.
not a second later, rafe could physically feel the way his anger coursed through his veins, making his tall, broad frame tremble on his girl's doorstep, making him growl lowly to himself as he began twitching from the growing rage at being denied entrance—at being denied you.
"baby, please, p-please open the door for me," rafe begged loudly, continuously banging on your front door, uncaring who heard him—no, rafe didn't give a fuck if it meant having you by his side again, having you as his again.
"rafe!" you mewled girlishly, reluctantly opening up your father's house, a cute pout decorating your pink lips as you finally came face to face with your toxic ex boyfriend, rafe cameron. "you cannot be here," you whined petulantly, crossing your arms over your perky chest, already feeling rafe's eyes dropping down to sneak a peek, making you continue to pout up at his intimidatingly tall figure.
"baby," rafe begins, a slight edge to his tone, something dark and sinister and possessive, "you're mine—mine, don't you get that? don't you get that you belong to me?" he chuckled humorlessly, giving his head a tiny shake as the fingers in his right hand twitched, begging for violence.
you stood there frozen, not being able to move, utterly paralyzed—and strangely, embarrassingly aroused.
"rafe," you whimpered softly, feeling your heart thumping erratically, not just from the way rafe spoke down to you, but just being in his mere presence was enough to leave your cunt dripping and your little pastel pink panties soaked.
rafe chuckled with a slow nod of his head, not waiting a single second more as he casually made his way inside of your father's house, already knowing he wasn't home and most likely at work.
"oh, my sweet baby," rafe cooed, immediately taking you into his arms once again, all snuggly and warm and perfect—you couldn’t help but bury your face into rafe's hard chest, inhaling his fancy, masculine cologne he always wore that he knew had you addicted.
"see how easy that was, huh? if only you’d just listen," rafe sighed softly, burying his face into the top of your hair, inhaling your fresh, feminine scent of vanilla and strawberries—his favorite.
"i.. ‘m really sorry, daddy," you pout, clinging to rafe as though you were nothing but a little girl, needing the comfort of a man, needing your rafe.
rafe only hums, rocking you both slowly back and forth as he continues to hold you, not loosing his grip for a moment as his big arms only squeeze around you tighter—punishingly, making you squeak in surprise.
"d-daddy!" you mewl helplessly, beginning to squirm in your ex boyfriend's arms, making you panic slightly when he wouldn't let go. "r-rafe…! c'mon, let me go," you complained with a childish whine, continuing to squirm more wildly to make him release you.
and yet… rafe didn't move a single muscle, only using his arms to hold you tighter against himself, caging you in completely.
"see, baby?" rafe chuckled lightly, "do you feel how helpless you're?" he continues, his voice a low, nasally croon directly into your ear as he hovers over you and leans down so that his lips brush against the shell of your earlobe, making you mewl pathetically.
"goddamn, you belong to me, baby," he growls, his tone ravenous and manic, "no, no, no…" he trails off with a quiet little hiss in your ear, making you shiver against him as he feels you trying to escape him.
"you're not going anywhere," he snarls, only to then bend down even more and nuzzle your neck, inhaling the addicting vanilla scented perfume you favored so much—the one that he had bought you. "c'mon, be daddy's good little girl, yea?" he says mockingly, pressing a sweet kiss against the top of your head.
rafe can feel you hysterically crying against him, making him think of those pretty little tears soaking into his shirt so innocently—and fuck, even when you're crying in his arms he can't help the way that his cock is throbbing in his pants.
"no, baby… it's okay, it's okay, you don't need to struggle," he coos, before nipping at the delicious skin of your sensitive neck and hearing you squeal girlishly for him, making his cock rock fucking hard.
"everything's gonna be just fine, yeah?" he smiles warmly, but the smile doesn’t reach his eyes, "everything's gonna be just fine… as long as you're mine."
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erosso · 2 years
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slipping eddie munson a risqué polaroid of you into his locker
messing with eddie was your favorite thing to do, especially when he deserved it.
he was being a brat lately, and you weren’t having it. you both ended up having a conversation about who needed who the most, and of course he insisted that you would have the hardest time without his touch.
being stubborn you took that challenge, but he was starting to ignore you, smirking every time you’d try to hold his hand or trying to get any physical contact with him. he was being sinister. he knew how much you loved his touch. and you knew how much he loved you in his hellfire shirt.
the next day eddie didn’t see you in the halls, he was hoping to get a rise out of you, but instead he opened his locker, catching a small square image that was on the brink of falling to the ground due to the locker being opened.
it was of you. on your bed, laying down. his hellfire shirt being the only piece of clothing you had on. legs seemingly intertwined with each other, as one hand lifted the edge of the shirt up, exposing the side of your naked body. the fabric was risen just above one of your breasts, exposing your harden nipple. the camera was angled just high enough to where the top of the polaroid cuts off at the top of your slightly agape lips.
he felt the crotch of his jeans tighten, his face heating up with strawberry tinted lust. he looked around, then back at his locker, trying to discern how he was going to go about this, but he noticed something else.
the familiar deep red panties he loved on you. he picked it up, moving it around in his other hand. he throws his head back, frustrated.
grabbing both items, he slams his locker shut, making his way to an empty bathroom.
he feels he might regret what he’s about to do, especially doing it in the school bathroom, but he couldn’t go about his day without relieving some of this frustration.
looking through each stall as quickly as he can, he decided on the furtherest stall away from the door. locking it, he sits down on the edge of the toilet, heart starting to race. right now he doesn’t care about the condition of the stall.
unzipping his pants, he feels the cool air hit the precum leaking from the tip of his twitching cock. he lets out a quiet “fuck”, looking at your polaroid, than back at your panties , he can’t help but inhale your sweet scent, your lovely aroma. he wanted you.
he knew he had to work fast.
he conjures up a slow string of saliva. it falls from his pursed lips, dripping down his shaft, veins becoming prominent as he has yet to touch himself.
he wraps your underwear around his dominant hand, starting to pump the mixture of his saliva and precum into the cotton of your panties that surrounds his cock.
the other gripping tightly at your polaroid, he starts to trace his thumb over the picture of your exposed nipple.
his breath quivers, small whimpers starting to fill the empty restroom, “fuck you’re so hot,” he compliments to himself, he’s imagining your cunt around him as the cotton of the fabric starts to get soaked from his spit and cum, “you like that, huh?” He stammers, rubbing his thumb over the shiny paper that showed your naked abdomen, he knew you won this game. and he didn’t care.
he starts to buck his hips as he’s reaching his peak, “fuck, fuck, fuck” he hissed.
he starts to drool as his mouth reacts to the sensation of the friction. he cums all over the sensual polaroid of you. his chest heaves, as he continues to relieve himself, the milky substance pulsing out of his aching tip. his fabric clothed hand can only pump so much before he becomes overstimulated, “you’re such a good girl,” he hums quietly to himself.
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cloud-player · 10 months
Text
Kiss Kiss Kiss (ft. HSR men)
gender neutral!reader as the trailblazer (caelus OR stelle) sfw, fluff, ~500 words each blade, dan heng, gepard landau, jing yuan
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BLADE
It wasn't your first time seeing Blade, the feared sword of the Stellaron Hunters. You had already met before, at the Xianzhou Luofu's Divination Commission fight. You remembered his glowing red eyes, the burning gaze that seemed to have imprinted itself on the inside your eyelids. You just can't… stop thinking of him. With the situation in Xianzhou Luofo somehow dissipating into an uneasy calmness after the fight with the Ambrosial Arbor's huge deer thing, you had resorted to going around the giant flagship and looking for treasures in the remote corners of the streets. You never expected to see Blade on one of those treasure-hunting expeditions. "Hello, little mouse. Lost?" His smile is sinister and you felt your heart drop to your stomach. You were frozen, though what really scared you wasn't Blade himself-- it was more of your morbid fascination with this supposed enemy of yours and the Astral Express. "Seems like cat got your tongue, hm?" Blade left his shadowy spot and stepped into the light, ignoring the fact that his face is literally plastered on wanted signs everywhere in the Xianzhou Alliance. He neared you, head tilted just a little bit, seemingly sizing you up with interest and zero fear. "What do we have here?" Your throat actually closed up, no words forming even as your mouth parted slightly. You should be pulling out your weapon, or even just call for someone to help… but no, you just continued to stand there as if Blade had you in a trance. "D-don't come any closer!" You hated how you sounded so weak, but you hated how your body fell into his arms almost like a limp doll as he closed the distance between your bodies. Blade's eyes were trained on your lips, and when his tongue darted out over his own upper lip, you already know you've lost whatever battle it was. "Wait--!" You managed to squeak out as Blade surged forward and your lips clashed. There was no hesitation, no other thoughts, just the feel of his lips and his hands almost bruising your skin with how tight he was holding onto you. His kiss was as passionate as the fire you remembered burning in his eyes. Captivating. Dangerous. Just as you started to reciprocate, Blade decided it was enough. He pulled away with an evil smirk to look at your haze-dulled eyes, tucking a strand of stray hair from your face to behind your ear. "We'll see each other around, won't we, Y/N?" And just like that, Blade disappeared back into the shadows. The only thing that remained and proved that he was really was there was the lingering warmth left on your lips that you surely won't be forgetting anytime soon.
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DAN HENG
Dan Heng has been holing himself up in his room at the Express the entire day. He didn't show up to eat with the entire crew that morning, lunch, or snacks. He even missed Pom-pom's coveted cupcakes with strawberry frosting! Worried, you decided to check up on him. You knocked on his cabin door, though you were already expecting to not hear a reply anyway so you started banging on the metal. Dan Heng could not just ignore a ruckus right outside his door, right? Whatever. Before you could intensify the noise, you heard Pom-pom yelling for you from the next hallway and felt fear strike you at what the terrifying conductor would do to you. You've heard from March 7th that Pom-pom does not take lightly to annoyances in the Express. Suddenly, the door opens and Dan Heng yanks you in. You let out a surprised shriek, but Dan Heng quickly covered your mouth with his hand. He then put a finger to his own lips to silence you as you both heard Pom-pom's tiny paws stomp down the hallway looking for you. "Y/N!" Pom-pom sounded really miffed, and you could hear your heart pounding. Not out of fear of Pom-pom, no-- Dan Heng's body was flush against yours as he had pressed your back onto the closed door of the Archives room. He wasn't looking at you, instead peeking at the stained glass window to check if Pom-pom had any idea of where you went. "Dan Heng--" You whispered, muffled by his hand, feeling hot and embarrassed. He shushed you quickly and quietly, still watching Pom-pom's movements. "Can't breathe!" You add, and he looked away from the window to glance at you. He blinked slowly, as if realizing what he's doing, then lowered his hand away from your mouth. He might have released you, but you were still squished between the door and Dan Heng. His hot breathing burned the tip of your ear, and you can feel his own rapid heartbeats against your shoulder. Pom-pom was still audibly stomping around on the other side of the door, but all that mattered to you was Dan Heng in front of you-- and could the Aeons really blame you for what you did next? Your arms ended up looping around Dan Heng's neck, suprising him enough to pull away slightly, but your hold had already secured him in place. In a split second, your lips were on him, and the surprised noise from him almost made you stop; until his own hands settled on your waist. Dan Heng kissed back with all the gentleness he rarely displayed. "Oh." You murmured when the kiss ended, a bit dazed. "I- I was just checking up on you." Dan Heng snorted at your embarrassment, and you hit his arm. "Are you sure it wasn't just to do that?" Dan Heng raised an eyebrow. You ended up whining, hitting his arm again, but you both shared a smile. Maybe a few kisses after as well.
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GEPARD
You were just helping Serval around the shop that day, having nothing else to do and lured in by the promise of Serval treating you to some sweet Osmanthus tea after finishing the job. It was more of you just sitting on a stool and listening to Serval talk while she fixes the circuits on some gadgets, but it was free snacks nevertheless. Gepard arrived not long after, hair a wild blonde mess from the wind outside. He froze at the doorway, seemingly surprised to see you there. "H- hi, Y/N." He then cleared his throat. "I didn't think you'd have some free time. I heard from Oleg that you're on an expedition--" Serval cut her brother off with a wave. "They're here to help me, Geppie." You only just smiled as Gepard nodded and occupied the stool next to you. "And you're here because..?" Serval trailed off as a loud ringing went off from the other room. With a sigh, she excused herself from the main room of the workshop, muttering about the new invention. "Is my sister being too much? You can always tell me if so, I'll be the one to tell her to stop bothering you." Gepard offered, looking for anything to distract him on the desk. His large hands fiddled with a loose coin-sized gear. "I know you're busy, Y/N." "It's alright; Serval's just lonely. She misses her little brother." You chide, elbowing him slightly. Your elbow was met with a wall of toughened muscles and you wondered if Gepard even felt it. "Anyway, what are you doing here? I thought the captain of the Silvermane Guards never takes a day off?" "I…" Gepard suddenly reddened, pursing his lips. You furrowed your eyebrows in concern, leaning closer to ask if he was okay or if he needed anything. He finished his sentence, though it was barely audible to you: "…wanted to ask Serval for advice on how to ask you for dinner or lunch…" "Why ask Serval when I'm already here?" You laughed, still fully in Gepard's space. He timidly scratched his neck, burning in embarrassment. "Well, to make things easier for you, captain… I do want to try that newly-opened restaurant in front of Goethe Hotel. I heard they make amazing Trotter steaks!" "Wait-- you're saying yes? You'll have dinner with me?" Gepard's demeanor changed immediately, brightening and his eyes shining with excitement. He almost looked like a puppy. He then caught himself, coughing fakely to regain his composure. You laughed at his efforts, unnoticing the way he stared at you, transfixed. So it was a surprise when Gepard suddenly cupped your face and kissed you. A surprised gasp bubbled out of you, but he kissed it away, easing you both slowly into a deep, passionate exchange.
As you pulled away for air, Gepard's eyes were still on you. Before any of you could say something, Serval started clapping from the doorway and wiping her tears away. Gepard groaned in embarrassment as Serval started singing about how she was so proud of her baby brother finally growing up. You tried to laugh the awkwardness off, though you only started to actually relax when Gepard found your hand under the desk and squeezed it.
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JING YUAN
You've been helping out around the Xianzhou Luofu in your free time, running errands and some side quests with the Divination Commission. In fact, you've spent the last few days reading through endless scrolls detailing prophecies and battle plans. The General Jing Yuan was the last thing on your mind as you filtered through the task. "Y/N." a sudden voice jolted you out of concentration. You look up to see Jing Yuan standing with a smile in front of the table you've been hunched over. "Is this a bad time? You look absolutely taken by the manuscript." "Oh." You quickly straighten up, putting the scroll down. "Not at all, general! Can I help you with anything?" Jing Yuan hummed happily, plopping down on the plush zabuton beside you. He took a deep breath, quickly feeling at peace in your presence. "Yes, actually. I would very much like your assistance on something." Jing Yuan then turned to you. "Do you have any advice on how to spend the time in relaxation? I have so many paperworks to sift through, what with the recent troubles with the Stellaron. I was wondering if you would have any wise words for me, what with your interstellar knowledge." Admittedly, you haven't been paying attention to what Jing Yuan was saying. Your eyes were transfixed on his handsome face, with everything blurring out into static noise. His lips were looking soft and just too inviting to be ignored as well, curving into a beautiful crescent moon with all the brightness of the stars. "Y/N? Is there something on my face?" Jing Yuan's concerned voice shook you out of your stupor. He looked worried. "Are Fu Xuan and her divinators overworking you? That won't do. I'll talk to them right away--" "No, no--" You fought the urge to scream in embarrassment. "I'm… I'm sorry, General. I got distracted." "By my face?" Jing Yuan raised an eyebrow, seemingly amused by then. "Which part especially, if I may so inquire?" His tone was teasing and lighthearted, leaning closer to you. "I'd like to know what of my face makes Y/N so distracted so as to not listen to me." That counted as permission, right? You take a shuddering breath as you willed the distance between you and Jing Yuan away, smashing your lips together. He let out a pleased noise at your initiative, hands reaching out to settle on your waist and jaw as the kiss deepened. You were the first to pull away to catch your breath, and the look Jing Yuan fixed you with had you melting. He hummed, content, and pushed a stray lock of hair away from your face. "I think this is a good way to relax indeed."
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please don't repost without permission!
send asks/requests too~ what should i write next?
ALSO please ignore typos/errors, this isn't proofread and i was stuck on this for a week (ᗒᗣᗕ) + tumblr text editor kept closing what did i dooooo
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babybeel · 11 months
Text
— your lips don’t lie
title creds
fights with asmo always feel like a slap to the face, lust twisting into hideous displeasure. he shines a bright, vicious smile your way as sweet poison drips from his tongue and seeps into your skin. and his claws dig into the meat of your arms, never seeming to let go.
but you’d grown stubborn in your time in the devildom. stubborn and defiant and daring. all too used to being involved in dangerous quests and having to face the consequences for your thoughtless actions. so, when the corners of asmo’s lips begin to twitch upwards into something sick and sinister, you let your blunter teeth curl into a snarl and bare your own scathing words.
it’s an ugly fight, filled with savage looks and even crueller words. neither of you are willing to let the other have the last say, each sentence parried with growing harshness. and it’s only when lucifer emerges from his office, face holding all the trouble of a storm, that the both of you stalk back to your own rooms, feet stomping heavily against the floor.
brewing in your room, you know what asmo wants, what he expects: you - the pitiful, fragile human - apologising. better yet, on your knees at his feet, begging for forgiveness.
because asmodeus, avatar of lust, does not say sorry. he’s never had to, with a trail of adoring fans always climbing over each other to get his attention, always wanting more, more, more, so long as it got them closer to the demon. any issues and he’d turn to his next plaything, bumbling attempts to amend only half heard. asmodeus hadn’t even had to charm them. and yet, he couldn’t charm you. the bitterness of that truth had long been tucked away under his skin, pulsing beneath his veins.
“you’re different,” asmo had hummed in the midst of the night, limbs tangled with your own, hidden away beneath plush blankets. and you were, are. you adore the devildom, almost as much as the realm loves you in return, inhabitants immediately taken by you during the exchange programme. you adore his brothers, seven pact marks decorating your body for no small reason, though never once exploiting their powers or their inherent sin. and you adore him, in such a way that made asmo afraid of tripping and falling, afraid to play with you and cause you hurt as he had done to so many others.
asmodeus is soon reminded of his compliment, now causing a frown to settle upon his lips than a smile, previously sticky with fondness. come morning, you’re already sat at the dining table when asmo enters the room, looking much more presentable than the demon had hoped.
you meet asmo’s eyes with a steely gaze, refusing to share even a drop of emotion for him to recognise. it makes asmo purse his lips ever so slightly as his frustration gets the better hand over him, just for a split second. but it’s enough, and you hide your smile by taking another sip of your blood strawberry juice.
you finish your breakfast quickly, not letting your attention flicker to asmo again during the meal. and it’s only when you grin a “thank you” to belphie who’s on dish duty for the day, before linking arms with satan to head off to rad, that asmo loosens his grip on his knife and fork. you’re different.
the first change comes five days into your continued disregard of all things asmodeus. a giftbox sits in front of your bedroom door, tag advertising luscious soaps and candied lotions with more nourishing properties than you can begin to understand. you leave the present there, your silent treatment persists.
you hate to admit it but your will chips away with each gift - sweet perfumes gone unsmelt and silky clothes left unworn. and it’s only when a small mountain has formed in the hallway that you finally cave.
picking up the smallest box from the extravagant pile, you gaze at the tube of lipstick. simpler than you’d expected, but costly no doubt if the brand was anything to go by. back in the comfort of your own room and facing a mirror, you press it to your lips, painting them a deep red that you can’t help but admire. asmo always did know what you’d best suit, what you’d best like.
but if there’s one thing you knew about asmo, it was his cunning. he’s slyer than his brothers with tricky thoughts and a devious facade, able to widen his eyes and push forward his chest in all the right ways. because no sooner are your lips coloured crimson do they begin to sear.
your breath quickens at the sensation, lips burning hot. your chest is heaving in panic, fingers swiping at your mouth desperately, half ready to claw away at the terrible feeling.
but it’s too late.
because asmo had decided you’re different, and if you wanted to resort to not speaking to him, you’d not speak at all. lips sealed shut, a muffled scream echoes through the house of lamentation. sharp, threatening smirk returned, asmo wonders how long to wait before he tells you all it takes is a kiss for the curse to break - and how long to wait before he gives in to your wordless pleas.
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feyhunter78 · 8 months
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Pink Pastels Pt 24
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Description: Ava shows up at your door. Pt 25
The schoolboard decided to give everyone two weeks off, to recover, but you know it’s so that they can try to scramble and cover up Donald’s obvious signs of devolving into a deranged supervillain. Also, so that they can find a place to send all the kids and teachers while they begin to rebuild the damaged parts of the school.
You don’t know much about Ava, only what Miguel or Gabi’s told you, but you don’t like her. You don’t like anyone who abandons their husband and child for some blond guy from California. So, when you find yourself face to face with her, you’re not quite sure what to do.
You were standing in the kitchen, cutting up strawberries, and waiting for the pizza guy. You thought the knocking was him, but now you’re standing frozen in the doorway as she glares at you.
“So, you’re the slut Miguel thinks is good enough to be around my daughter.” She says, giving you an unimpressed look.
You blink at her, it’s been years since anyone’s called you a slut, who even uses that word as an insult anymore? Besides incels.
You turn to look at Gabi who’s sitting in your living room quietly watching TV.
“Miguel isn’t here right now, and he doesn’t want you seeing Gabi, so I’m going to have to ask you to leave.” You say calmly, your voice low.
You don’t want Gabi to see Ava, but you really don’t want her to hear the things she’s saying.
“I’m her mother, and you’re just some woman, you can’t stop me.” Ava moves to brush past you, but you mirror her, stopping her from entering your apartment.
“You’re not her mother, you gave up the right to call yourself that the day you left.”
Ava’s lips curl into a snarl. “Listen here you bit—”
“Gabi, sweetheart—You cut Ava off—go back to your dad’s, I need to have a little chat with your father’s ex-wife.”
“Okay mamá.” Gabi says, giving you a hug before she darts past Ava and into Miguel’s apartment, not sparing Ava a single glance.
“Why don’t you come inside, and we’ll just talk until Miguel gets back?” You offer, giving Ava a placating smile.
She crosses her arms over her chest. “Not only have you turned Miguel against me, but you’ve also turned my daughter against me as well.”
“I—Ava, may I call you Ava? You’ve been out of Gabi’s life since before she can remember, she has no memories good or bad for me to twist.”
Okay, you’re lying a little bit, but you’ve never tried to turn Gabi against her biological mother.
You motion for her to take a seat, but she remains standing, leaning against your island.
“Yeah, right, as if I’d believe a homewrecking whore like you.” Ava drawls, picking up a cut strawberry and taking a bite.
“Homewrecking? You had an affair. You wrecked your own home.” You remind her, trying to force yourself to stay calm.
“It’s their fault, they drove me crazy, pushed me to it.” Ava protests.
You’re dumbfounded. “How could a baby push you into an affair?”
“She’s just so needy, they both are… Always wanting my attention, always talking to me, always crying, Gabriella, not Miguel, though I did love to make him cry.” Her expression turns almost sinister, and a shiver runs down your spine.
“What are you talking about?” The hairs on the back of your neck stand up and dread seeps down into your chest.
“Oh, you don’t know? He would call me, crying, begging me to come back, and I could hear that thing crying in the background. Sometimes I’d tell him to meet me at a motel, force him on his knees, tell him if he did a good enough job, maybe I’d consider coming back. But why would I do that? I got the best of both worlds.” She laughs, as if it’s the funniest thing she’s ever heard.
You hate this woman, really fucking hate her.
“That’s cruel. Why drag out the pain? You got what you wanted, you should’ve just left them alone.” You grab the counter behind you, knuckles white as you try to reign in your rage and disgust.
Poor Miguel, you can’t imagine how deeply that must have scarred him. Your heart hurts for him, you just want to pull him into a hug and never let go.
“If he would’ve just agreed to the adoption like I wanted we wouldn’t be here, but no, he wanted his daughter, his precious Gabriella, he loved her more than me, it was obvious from day one. That conniving little bitch.”
“She was a baby! She literally couldn’t do anything. You’re crazy, do you even hear yourself?” Maybe you’re the crazy one, because you can’t understand how Ava could blame Gabi for any of this.
“Crazy? You think I’m crazy? Just wait, you’ll see. He’ll turn on you, just like he did me.” Ava says, her voice rising in pitch.
“He didn’t turn on you, you cheated on him, you left him, you manipulated him.” You push off the counter, your anger making you reckless.
“Because of that bitch! She ruined my fucking life; I should’ve gotten rid of her when I had the chance.” Ava snarled.
“Stop calling my daughter a bitch.” Your nails are digging into the flesh of your palms, as you try to keep your breathing even.
You’re not a violent person, you’re not a violent person, you’re not a violent person—not anymore.
It’s as if Ava snaps, her single thread of sanity cut by your words, and she grabs the knife off the cutting board and lunges.
You scramble back, dodging just in time, the blade catching the side of your shoulder. “What the fuck is wrong with you?”
“Stop moving, you fucking whore.” Ava seethes, swinging again, her eyes blazing with rage.
There’s nowhere to run, she’s got you pinned against the wall.
You grab her arm, struggling against her, the blade pointed towards your neck. “If you kill me, everyone will know, you’ll never get Miguel and Gabi back.”
“I’m willing to risk it.”
You don’t really remember what happens next. You feel the adrenaline rushing through you, the blade grazing your neck as you slam your body against hers in a frantic attempt to escape, then there’s a deafening crack, and then everything goes quiet. You can hear your blood rushing in your ears.
Ava lays motionless, red, crimson, blood spilling from a wound on her head, the corner of your island stained with it as well.
You drop to your knees, sick, horrified. “No, no, no, I didn’t—I didn’t mean to—fuck, fuck, fuck, Ava, wake up.”
She remains motionless, and you feel the warm trickle of something running down your skin. You put a hand to the side of your neck, and it comes away red. You stay there, motionless, frozen, staring.
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jetsetlife138 · 2 months
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Imaginary: Reimagined (Alastor-Fem!Reader) - Chapter 2
A Multi-Chapter Story
Previous Chapters: Intro / Chapter 1
Chapter 2: The Introduction
Chapter Rating: Mature
Chapter Warnings: Reader experiences intense feelings of anxiety, discomfort, fear, and unwanted attention from a certain Radio demon.
Startled by the unexpected greeting, you pivoted swiftly in search of the elusive voice. Given the distinct static overlay accompanying the speaker, you initially anticipated seeing an antiquated television or vintage radio. However, to your astonishment, the origin was far more ominous.
The towering, gaunt figure before you exuded a distressing aura, his malevolence etched into every line of his sinister visage. As you examined him further, a labyrinth of unique features unfolded like a tapestry of the macabre, each detail more entrancingly unsettling than the last.
His penetrating leer felt like it could scorch the very depths of your soul, his eyes smoldering with an otherworldly crimson fire. The blood-red sclera lent an eerie depth, complemented by cinober irises that glowed with a supernatural intensity. Thin black pupils, sharp and unwavering, bore mercilessly into whosoever dared to meet his gaze. A burgundy oval-shaped monocle rimmed with sleek black adorned his right eye, adding an air of sophistication to his countenance.
A mischievous, broad smile unfurled across his face, a wicked crescent that exposed a set of teeth colored like sulfurous flames—sharp, pointed, and reminiscent of shards of amber. Each tooth, a gleaming weapon, hinted at a predator's cunning, a testament to the calculated danger that lurked behind the veneer of his baleful grin.
Crowning his head, peculiarity manifested in an unconventional hairstyle—an unruly cascade of fiery strawberry-red, meticulously cropped with a rebellious flair. The tips, dipped in the deepest black, created a striking contrast. Two audacious tufts of hair, tipped in the same jet black, extended defiantly from the apex, creating a distinctive silhouette, adding an almost devilish semblance.
Perched atop this vibrant display were two small, elegant black antlers—a subtle yet distinctive touch that further emphasized his unearthly presence. Together, the hairstyle and the antlers wove a tale of defiance and mystique, marking him as a character who embraced the havoc within, turning it into a crown of eccentricity.
His attire, further validating his enigmatic persona, consisted of a carmine pinstripe coat and dark cherry lapels lined with stark white; the garment exuded an air of both elegance and decay. Torn and ragged along the hem, it hinted at a history filled with battles and untold challenges. Beneath the coat, a bright red dress shirt with a bold ebony cross on the chest hinted at more profound symbolism. A black knotted bowtie with a ruby center adorned his neck, giving the apparel a subtle touch of formality.
His hands, sheathed in sable gloves, each fingertip adorned with a flash of dramatic scarlet, adding a touch of theatrical flair to his gestures as though every movement was part of an elaborate performance. Completing the ensemble, obsidian pointed-toe boots at his feet, their tips dipped in a fiery red, as if the ground itself ignited in his presence.
Maintaining a poised stance with impeccable posture, he stood with shoulders pulled back and chin elevated in a decorous and dignified pose. One arm rested gracefully behind his back, enhancing the implication of formality. At the same time, the other gripped a staff crowned by what looked to be an unusual microphone fixture, hinting at a strange fusion of worlds in his grasp.
This ambiguous figure stood as a walking paradox, a haunting blend of elegance and menace, sophistication and chaos.
Sensing your trepidation, his grin widened even further into a wicked expression that seemed to relish in your stunned reaction as well as the element of surprise. “Tongue-tied already?”
Apologizing nervously, you stumbled over your words and cleared your throat before mustering a hesitant greeting, "Um... hello."
"Delighted to make your acquaintance, sweetheart!" he exclaimed, extending his hand to clasp yours forcefully. The unexpected strength in his grip caught you off guard, smoothly drawing you closer—a bold move that sent a tingling sensation through you as you struggled to reclaim your composure. "Alastor, at your service. An absolute pleasure, I must say!"
A subtle crackle in the air marked a palpable shift, signaling a sudden transformation in his demeanor. In the blink of an eye, his welcoming host facade vanished. In its place emerged the persona of a beguiling gentleman, his intentions now veering towards the less honorable. Undeterred, he continued his greeting; his charismatic glamor, now laced with an undeniable allure, hinted at lurking danger beneath the surface. "And you, my enchanting mystery, what should I call you?" With a subtle yet commanding touch, he pressed a refined and tender kiss to the back of your hand, each second stretching into eternity as his intense gaze remained fixed on yours.
Despite your desire to reclaim your hand, it remained ensnared in his firm grip, rendering your haphazard attempts futile. Staring back at him, completely captivated, you failed to muster even the most straightforward responses, such as your own name. His aura derailed you far more than the demons you had encountered when you first arrived, surpassing even the ones who posed more direct threats.
Incoherent and nonsensical words stumbled out of your mouth, the quiver in your voice reflecting the unease that enveloped you in the magnetic field of his presence.
Growing impatient, the demon interjected, "Surely, you possess a name of your own. Come now, don't be a canceled stamp. What moniker belongs to such a captivating individual as yourself?"
As he continued speaking, you noticed his language unmistakably belonged to a bygone era. The vintage phrases and rapid-fire delivery echoed the dialogue of old black-and-white movies you had encountered over the years, particularly those with brisk and lively commentary.
His manner of speech carried a peculiar mix of disconcerting enticement, seamlessly melded with his overall style and disposition. A fleeting thought crossed your mind, contemplating whether it was a carefully crafted act or if he could indeed be a relic from the 1930s. In your current setting, where boundaries between eras blurred, the possibility of him being a genuine product of the past could be as likely as any other extraordinary occurrence in Hell.
Drawing a deep breath to steady your nerves, you eventually yielded, surrendering your name to the demon. Alastor, as you now knew him, flashed his ever-present grin, the twisted mirth dancing in his eyes as if he had just secured a coveted prize. The lobby's light seemed to flicker in tandem with the sinister satisfaction on his face.
"Why, that's absolutely delightful," he declared, testing the sound of your name on his lips. "It just rolls off the tongue, doesn't it? Splendid! Now, forgive my curiosity, but you don't strike me as a local." It was challenging to focus on his words as Alastor's eyes bore into yours, like embers dancing in the shadows. His impeccable manners and theatrical gestures were a stark contrast to the ominous air that surrounded him.
Collecting yourself, you felt your pulse quicken as you stammered, "W-what gives you that impression?" It was a feeble attempt to challenge his assumptions, but even as the words left your lips, a moment of realization struck, making you feel somewhat foolish. The truth was painfully obvious – you were undeniably human, not a demon. The air around you seemed to tighten with an awkward silence, a palpable acknowledgment of the absurdity that hung in the space between you and Alastor.
"Well, my dear," he said, a glint of amusement in his eyes, "first and foremost, you're alive. There hasn't been a living soul down here in… well, ever, to my knowledge. Your heartbeat practically sings in this abyss of torment!" His tone carried a mix of mischief and genuine fascination as if he had stumbled upon a rare and captivating treasure. "Quite the twist, isn't it?"
Another chill crept up your spine, the realization settling in that Alastor's interest extended far beyond mere pleasantries. Each syllable he uttered bore the weight of a concealed agenda, leaving you to navigate the labyrinth of his enchantment cautiously.
"Secondly," he continued, visibly unfazed by your gawking stare, "You're quite noticeably average. Hell is brimming with anthropomorphic beings. I regret to inform you that you stick out rather drastically. If your intention was to be discreet, it appears you're off your trolley!"
Perplexed, you furrowed your brow. His attempts at communication through outdated terminology failed to resonate and left you even more bewildered. "Sorry, what?"
He laughed heartily in response to your evident confusion, delighting in the disorientation you were experiencing as he playfully tapped the microphone on the top of his staff. "Hello! Is this thing on? Can you read me loud and clear?"
Battered by the relentless onslaught of mayhem and Alastor's nonsensical banter, you felt your sanity teetering on the brink of collapse. The unyielding pandemonium you had continuously endured was reaching its limit, and the existential panic lingering in your mind was now threatening to surface. You felt the unraveling of your composure, desperate for a moment of peace.
Sensing the strain on your waning mental stability, Alastor abruptly ceased his heckling. A sudden stillness replaced the dastardly mirth as he offered assistance, his tone surprisingly gentle. "Forgive me, I've been a bit uncouth. I reckon you've had quite the day with all these novel experiences! What might I fetch for you to aid in a moment of repose? Some giggle water? A gasper, perhaps?"
Once again, the unfamiliar jargon failed to resonate, intensifying your confusion. The unexpected, yet supposedly sincere, offer of abetment from the intimidating demon further disoriented you. The interaction alluded to a hidden layer of complexity within him, contributing to the overall intrigue surrounding his character.
Despite your efforts to remain composed, a heavy sigh escaped you, vocalizing the frustration that had taken place within. Your hands found solace in cradling your head, a physical manifestation of the turmoil that enveloped your thoughts.
"Look, it's Alastor, right?" His nod of confirmation prompted you to proceed as you dropped your hands to a less manic stance. "Okay, Alastor. I'm sensing a disconnect here. I'm not sure if this—" you gestured toward him, observing the quizzical tilt of his head before continuing, "... old-timey persona is your 'shtick' or whatever… But, honestly, I can't deal with this right now. While I appreciate your hospitality, up until earlier today, everything in my life was perfectly normal. Now, I'm trapped in some bizarre cartoon universe filled with humanoid monsters who apparently want me dead, and I'm having a hard time coping. So, could you give me a minute? Please?" The pain in your voice was evident, a desperate request for a moment of calm amidst the surreal madness that had become your reality.
A profound silence settled between you. Alastor's piercing gaze carefully scrutinized you while he pondered your words. While his perpetual smile never faltered, a subtle nuance in how he regarded you conveyed a hint of disappointment. It was as if he feared he had inadvertently damaged his newfound source of entertainment before fully indulging in its potential.
"Dear, I was only–"
"You heard her! Back off!"
You and Alastor swiftly redirected your focus as a commanding voice resonated across the lobby. Emerging from the distance was a feminine figure resembling a moth adorned with long white hair elegantly secured by a vibrant cherry bow. A prominent X marked her left eye, accentuating her distinctive appearance.
As the figure drew closer, you noticed the disapproving scowl etched across her face, which looked pointedly fixed on Alastor. The tension in the air heightened as the unexpected ally intervened, her presence signaling a shift in the unfolding dynamic.
"Vagatha," Alastor greeted with cool nonchalance, an almost dismissive nod accompanying his words. "Right on cue."
"That's not my name," The moth-like woman mumbled under her breath, her narrowed eyes betraying a lingering suspicion. Yet, when her attention turned to you, her demeanor transformed. A warm smile replaced the scowl, and she placed her hands protectively on your shoulders, instantly creating a sense of comfort.
"I'm Vaggie," she introduced herself amicably. "Don't let this guy scare you off. Somehow, he wormed his way into becoming the hotel's Facility Manager, but that's on a probationary period. He's already on thin ice." Vaggie's gaze shot back to Alastor, a glare loaded with unspoken challenges. Alastor, however, seemed to relish in the confrontation, his eyes crinkling in mischievous glee.
"Charlie got held up on an important phone call, so she sent me to help get you settled until she can meet up with us. Come on, we've got a room ready for you upstairs." The promise of sanctuary in the form of a bedroom thrilled you, a welcome reprieve from the brewing storm in the lobby.
"Thank you, that sounds great," you agreed, your response punctuated by a nervous swallow. You were still attempting to stifle any apprehension triggered by Vaggie and Alastor's unique features. Turning back to Alastor, you offered a polite farewell. "It was nice to meet you, Alastor. I guess I'll see you around."
To your astonishment, you recoiled as his teeth seemed to sharpen even further, the unwavering smile on his face widening at your acknowledgment. "Oh, yes, dearest. Sooner than you think," he purred, his words dripping with a subtle menace that left a trail of anticipation in their wake. The air thickened as Alastor's gaze lingered on you, a predator watching its prey, as you turned to follow Vaggie towards the large, creaking staircase.
As you climbed the grand staircase, the glare of the lobby gave way to the soft glow of sconces that adorned the walls, casting flickering shadows along the ornate patterns of the carpet. The plush and intricate designs felt as though they absorbed the echo of your footsteps, creating an atmosphere of subtle refinement.
Vaggie led you through the upper landing, the ambience changing as you ascended. A faint scent of aged wood lingered, intermingled with the distant wails of Hell's tormented souls. It was a disturbing reminder of the realm you found yourself in.
"Your room is just down there," she said, her tone easing into a more casual cadence as she gestured ahead. The subtle tension of the encounter with Alastor seemed to dissipate with each step. "Sorry about that weird thing with Alastor. He's... unique. But don't worry, you're in good hands now."
The hallway unfolded as a corridor of opulence, with ambient lighting casting a vermillion gleam upon the dark, polished wood of the ornate doors that lined either side. Vaggie halted before a particularly imposing door, turning to you with a small, apologetic smile. "This is it. Your new home, at least for the time being." The door's intricate carvings and richly hued finish hinted at the luxury within, offering a glimpse into the mysterious haven that awaited you.
Entering the room, you were met with a surprisingly cozy atmosphere. The large bed dominated the space, adorned in rich crimson and gold bedding. Four beams stood proudly on each corner, supporting a black canopy that added an air of elegance. With their shears drawn, the two giant windows along the wall hinted at consideration for your well-being, shielding you from whatever horrors lurked below. Despite the obscured view, the city's lights cast a warm and inviting glow into the room.
A large, regal dresser stood proudly between the windows, a vast mirror attached on top reflecting the refined atmosphere of the room. Against the opposite wall, an armoire added a touch of vintage charm, and in the corner, a matching vanity whispered of bygone elegance. A door beckoned on the opposite end of the room, leading to your private en-suite bathroom.
Vaggie, her posture casual yet observant, leaned against the wall, her eyes following your every move. "It's not exactly the Ritz, but it's got its own flair."
You turned to face her, the weight of the day's events still etched on your features. "Flair might be an understatement, Vaggie. This place is..." You searched for the right word as you regarded the room. "Impressive."
She chuckled softly, the sound echoing in the quiet space. "Hell has a way of blending horror with splendor, doesn't it? Anyway, make yourself at home." Stepping back to survey the space again, you marveled at how it had met your needs and exceeded them.
Captivated by the allure of your new living space, you nearly missed Charlie's spirited entrance. Bursting through the doorway, her radiant expression illuminated the room like a burst of sunlight, and she greeted you with unbridled enthusiasm. "Welcome!" she exclaimed, extending her arms to accentuate her elation. "I hope that this space will suffice. If you need any other accommodations, I'm sure our gracious Facility Manager will happily assist!"
A derisive snort from Vaggie redirected your attention, her skepticism evident as she shot Charlie a sidelong glance. "Yeah, our 'gracious' Facility Manager has a knack for overstepping boundaries and could learn a thing or two about minding his own damn business. You're better off coming to me or Charlie for anything you need."
Charlie, undeterred by Vaggie's cynicism, chimed in with an eager smile. "Oh, we'd be thrilled to help with whatever you need!" Her eyes sparkled with genuine sincerity as she moved closer to Vaggie, intertwining their fingers as if grounding herself in their shared strength. As she took Vaggie's hand in hers, Charlie's gaze lingered with adoration. "Vaggie has done so much to help get this place up and running. She's not just my right hand; she's my better half."
Vaggie smiled sheepishly, trying to conceal her blush. Charlie planted a delicate kiss on Vaggie's cheek before turning her attention back to you, adopting a more serious tone. "Listen, I know this must all be pretty terrifying, and you must be so scared, but we've got you, I promise."
"Try to keep a low profile," Vaggie encouraged, placing a hand on her hip as she stood confidently. "Keep to yourself, avoid any potentially dangerous situations, and most importantly, stay away from the Shitlord. If you can do that, you should be fine until we can figure out how to get you home."
You blinked, puzzled by the peculiar term. "I'm sorry, the 'Shitlord'?"
"Alastor," she grumbled, ignoring Charlie's subtle scowl. "Our not-so-friendly neighborhood Radio Demon."
"Why should I avoid him?" you inquired, your interest piqued, especially after your earlier encounter. "If he's here helping to redeem sinners, he can't be that bad, right?"
The conflicting responses from Charlie and Vaggie painted a vivid picture of the polarizing figure that was Alastor. Charlie's eyes lit up with loyalty, defending the demon's actions, while Vaggie's glare spoke volumes about her mistrust.
"He's an ass," Vaggie stated bluntly, not mincing her words. It was clear she had little patience for the potentially problematic Radio Demon.
"He's not!" Charlie interjected, her tone almost pleading. "He… has a certain reputation, is all. I can't just assume that every demon that walks through our doors has bad intentions. We've got to give him a chance. He's been nothing but helpful since he's arrived."
Quirking your brow, you glanced back and forth between them as Vaggie rolled her eyes. "Charlie is endearingly optimistic."
As you observed the dynamic between Charlie and Vaggie, you noticed the subtle interplay of emotions – Charlie's infectious optimism and Vaggie's more cautious demeanor. The room's atmosphere shifted, transitioning from the initial excitement to a more serious undertone. The warmth of the welcome clashed with the ominous warning about the unpredictable Radio Demon.
Vaggie's gaze hardened as she met your eyes, a stern expression on her face. "Seriously, it's for your own safety. Alastor might come off as charming, but there's a reason other demons keep their distance. He's one of Hell's most feared Overlords. He's unpredictable, and you never know what he's up to. Just steer clear of him, okay?"
Charlie tried to diffuse the tension with a comforting smile. "We're just looking out for you. The Hotel can be hectic, and we want you to feel at home." Her words carried a gentle reassurance, attempting to balance Vaggie's wariness and her own hopefulness.
Vaggie sighed, a hint of frustration in her voice. "Just trust me on this one. He isn't just a happy face; he's a creep we've reluctantly allowed to help us. And the last thing we need is an innocent, unsuspecting soul falling under his influence."
A momentary flicker of doubt passed over Charlie's expressive eyes, but she swiftly regained her composure. "Alright, let's not dwell on this too much tonight. You must be exhausted," she said, her concern palpable. "We'll talk more tomorrow. If you need anything else, Vaggie and I are just down the hall, last door on the left."
"Got it," you affirmed, inclining your head in gratitude.
"Oh! And don't be alarmed if you cross paths with some of the other hotel staff," Charlie resumed, her enthusiasm returning. "Niffty is our diligent housekeeper, and Husk is our skilled bartender."
"At the moment, we only have two other guests," Vaggie chimed in, her tone more pragmatic. "Sir Pentious is usually occupied with his little minions and shouldn't be too much of a nuisance. Angel Dust is another story. If he bothers you, just ignore him. Or strangle him. Either one works."
"Will do," you chuckled, her attempt at humor injecting a welcome lightness into the atmosphere. "Thank you so much. I don't know what else to say. I'd probably be dead by now if you hadn't found me. It means a lot that you'd go through so much trouble for someone you don't know."
"Happy to help," Charlie replied, her sympathetic smile providing tender reassurance. "Get some rest!"
With those words, the two exited the room, leaving you alone with your thoughts. Eager for a distraction, you sauntered to the windows, drawing back the curtain and peering through the grimy glass.
Hell unfolded its macabre grandeur before your eyes. The twisted, decrepit structures that lined the streets challenged the laws of architecture. Each building, crooked and battered, exuded an eerie magnetism that hinted at the horrors within. The air was tinged with a paranormal quality, a discordant symphony of colors and shadows playing on the blood-splattered streets.
As you contemplated the surreal spectacle, a question involuntarily danced through your mind—what form would encapsulate your essence in this infernal realm? Would you morph into a whimsical creature, an embodiment of the anarchy that defined Hell, or perhaps manifest as an object reflecting the remnants of your earthly existence? The sheer absurdity of the thought evoked a quiet laughter that bubbled up from deep within, a coping mechanism against the overwhelming horror surrounding you.
"Remarkable, isn't it?"
The unexpected voice, a sinister melody that sliced through the eerie silence, prompted an involuntary yelp. You spun around with a start, almost stumbling over yourself, only to find Alastor standing in your bedroom doorway. The unnerving permanence of his smile rattled you while his eyes, gleaming with an otherworldly intelligence, seemed to leer at you.
"Jesus Christ!" you choked out, a hand instinctively clutching your chest to steady the frantic beat of your heart.
"Hmm… not quite," Alastor replied, his grin deepening, causing his eyes to crease with malevolent cheerfulness. "Forgive me, miss. A gentleman should refrain from intruding upon a lady's private domain. However, our earlier conversation was abruptly cut short, and I am not one to leave matters unresolved," he continued, twirling his staff with a casual flourish. "I would be remiss if I did not take advantage of this rare opportunity. Would you grant me the pleasure of your company, perhaps for a brisk stroll?"
Your eyes narrowed, wrestling with the uncertainty of his intentions. On one hand, curiosity was a shared sentiment; however, Vaggie had explicitly warned against spending any time with Alastor. Additionally, your suspicion that Alastor's interest in you concealed darker motives had only intensified since your previous encounter.
Observing your hesitation, Alastor's low, rumbling chuckle reverberated through the air like an ominous prelude, the static overlay even more prevalent than before. He casually leaned against the doorframe, his dark silhouette swallowing the feeble light in the room.
"No need to be so guarded, sweetheart," Alastor drawled, his voice an unnatural blend of charisma and menace. "I'm merely captivated by the anomaly of a living soul gracing Hell's grounds. You see, it's not every day we welcome a newcomer like yourself." Despite his attempt at reassurance, the room felt suffocating, as if his presence tainted the entire space. "You couldn't have arrived at a more intriguing time," Alastor continued, his eyes glinting with a vicious spark. "It seems fate has a sense of humor, placing a delicate creature like you amidst the chaos of Hell–and so soon after an extermination!"
Your eyebrows furrowed, skepticism etching lines on your face as you shot him a look that bordered on irritation. "Am I supposed to know what an 'extermination' is?"
"Sweet girl, an extermination is a grand spectacle of Hellish proportions! It's a symphony of destruction orchestrated to cleanse and reset the infernal balance," Alastor explained, his words dripping with macabre enthusiasm. The way he spoke made it sound like he reveled in the mayhem. "And you, my unsuspecting guest, have stepped directly into the aftermath."
Your arms crossed tightly over your chest, a mix of defiance and fear lacing your words. "Is this your idea of a sick joke?"
Alastor leaned back, a wicked grin still playing on his lips as if savoring the fear dancing in your eyes. "Who's joking?" he jested, his voice resonating with a chilling levity.
You eyed him warily, the manic in his eyes intensifying. "So, what's your role in all of this? Are you some kind of demonic tour guide or a sadistic host?"
He hummed softly as he mused. "Oh, you could say I wear many hats. But most importantly, for the time being, I'm here to make your stay in Hell as... entertaining as possible."
His words dripped with a malicious promise, each syllable carrying the weight of an unspoken threat. As he spoke, the air around you seemed to thicken with an unsettling energy, and you couldn't shake the feeling that you were just beginning to scratch the surface of the twisted game that Alastor had set before you.
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Chapter End Notes: Okay, I'm seeking honest opinions here... is my writing TOO complex? I feel like I'm using a lot of words that aren't used in everyday conversation, and I worry about any unsuspecting readers whose first language isn't English. It concerns me that they might struggle with comprehension and have it take away from their experience. I don't want to stress anyone out. Does that make sense? I'm an overthinker, so any feedback is appreciated!
69 notes · View notes
babyjakes · 2 years
Text
the devil's thirst.
〈 disclaimer: this blog posts content not suitable for individuals under the age of 18. minors are strictly prohibited from viewing, sharing, or interacting with this blog. for more information on this blog's commitment to protecting minors, read our full statement here. 〉
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summary | stupid little babies who wanna act big need to be reminded how utterly pathetic and helpless they truly are.
pairing | mean!daddy!lloyd hansen x little!reader
warnings | mean!mean!mean!daddy!lloyd like so mean, very cruel!!, denial as punishment (no cumming for a month), lloyd is a sick bastard (canon) and threatens to cut various body parts off, fake soft!daddy!lloyd for a hot minute, my strawberry shortcake trauma insertion, mocking/degredation, restraints (rope), watersports (forced wetting), fingering, black rubber gloves bc lloyd doesn't like messes (whew daddy!!), forced orgasm, squirting (i mean, ,, it's also pee but, ,, ,, you know), pussy slapping/clit spanking, big big crying kink, so much cursing, name-calling (whore, slut, bitch, all the good ones), no aftercare/lloyd makes her clean up the mess D-:, dude wtf even is this and why did i write it :^))))
word count | 2,742
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an | idek what to say about this one so i'm just gonna link this hate anon i got about having a piss kink where i responded with piss ari and cursed the haters bc i think it's funny and neat okay byeeee-
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Unsurprisingly, when it came to being your daddy, there were certain parts of the job that Lloyd found especially enjoyable. He did it all well, of course- took care of your needs and wants, doted on you, treated you like the princess you were. But he would be lying if he said the darker, more sinister parts of the role weren't his favorite; it was only in his nature. He was cruel, wicked down to the bone, and that meant strict rules, along with even stricter punishments. Considering this, you were never one to act up much.
Much.
When you did end up on Lloyd's bad side, the consequences were usually swift and scathing. One philosophy he held was that it wasn't a true punishment unless he had you in tears. And being the notorious torture fanatic he was, he had plenty of methods to extract those pretty sobs from poor little you. All in all, your daddy was very hands-on with your discipline. So the one time he finally decided to punish you by depriving instead of dealing out, you knew you had taken things too far. But it was too late to do anything about it. Lloyd Hansen gave second chances to no one.
"A month?" you exclaimed in horror, jumping down from your seat on the dark polished wood of his study desk. Hands coming to rest on your hips over your frilly tennis skirt, you stood with shock still clear on your face.
Not even pausing to look up at you, Lloyd nodded as he continued to sort through the paperwork before him. He knew it drove you crazy; that's why he did it. The more worked up he could get you, the better. He loved seeing you pout and fuss. "That's right, princess. A whole month, no playtime. And if you even so much as think about touching that pretty little clit of yours, I'll cut it off and feed it to the dogs."
Grimacing in disgust, you somehow found it in you to protest, "Ew- no, Daddy! You wouldn't!"
Chuckling softly at your outrage, the man nodded, "Oh, I would, sweetheart. Actually- maybe I'd keep it, put it in a nice frame up on the wall. You know how much Daddy loves your little button, wouldn't wanna let it go to waste. Oh- and the same goes for your nipples, young lady. Daddy knows his naughty girl can get off on those alone when she's needy enough."
Huffing softly to yourself, you crossed your arms, stomping the rubber bottom of your platform Mary Jane against the floor. Finally looking up to meet your gaze, Lloyd smiled widely, having gotten exactly what he wanted: a precious, pouty baby. How cute.
"No fair, Daddy," you whimpered, bottom lip puffing out in an attempt to change his mind.
"No fair? Why's that, princess? What were you expecting when you stole Daddy's bike for a midnight joyride, a fucking pat on the back? A new pair of shoes?"
"N-no, but..." Sniffling, your frown deepened. "You never give me punishments like this, Daddy. Always just..."
"Give you what you want? Play rough with you, let you cum?" the man finished your sentence for you as you lowered your head in shame; there was no denying that he was right. "Oh, you'll get that too, sweetheart. This is just part one of your lesson, so quit being a brat and whining about it, or I'll double the time."
"No- please, Daddy!" you were quick to beg, eyes bulging with tears as he did nothing but laugh at your pathetic desperation.
"Good. Now get out of here, Daddy's got a meeting. You might wanna take a walk around the garden, baby. Don't think you're gonna like the sounds I'm about to pull from these bastards."
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When the promised day arrived, you were a much different girl than you were only a month ago, any last hints of brattiness and defiance completely put out as you could really only be described using one word at that point: needy. In the morning as he helped you get ready, your daddy dressed you up in your favorite Strawberry Shortcake pinafore with matching pink stockings held in place by pretty lace garters, and of course he let you wear your favorite lingerie set, the baby pink lace with little strawberry patterning just so adorable against your perfect body. With how cute you were looking, it took everything in him not to bend you over your bed and fuck you into oblivion as soon as you were all dressed and ready for the day. "So beautiful for me, angel," Lloyd cooed against your hair as he held you on his lap, running a gentle hand up and down your back. "You remember what today is, don't you?"
Big eyes blinking innocently, you nodded, too busy holding your breath to respond.
"I knew my princess wouldn't forget. Daddy can't wait to give you the rest of your punishment- and some relief, of course." Smiling down at you, he pressed a kiss to your forehead before continuing, "But in order to get all that, you need to be a good girl for Daddy first, okay? I've got some work to wrap up in my office, and I want you sitting pretty on my lap while I do it. Do you understand?"
"Yes Daddy," you nodded obediently, jumping slightly as his other hand came up to rub against your thigh. Cheeks burning in embarrassment, you bit your lip, knowing better than to start begging early.
"Oh sweetheart, you poor thing," your daddy crooned sympathetically as he ran his fingers delicately over your trembling skin. "Look at how badly you need me- are those tears in your eyes already, princess?"
Not wanting to open your mouth in fear of breaking down completely, you simply let out a weak whimper, turning to tuck your face against the fabric of the man's shirt. Chuckling at your actions, Lloyd wrapped his arms around you, pressing a kiss down on the top of your head. "Okay, okay- Daddy'll quit teasing," he promised. "Now come on, little one. I have a surprise waiting for you in the study."
Lifting you into the air with ease, he was kind enough to carry you all the way from the bedroom to the office, letting you stay hidden away in the safety of his familiar scent and the darkness of his shirt. "Don't tell me you're gonna be a teary-eyed baby all day," he frowned as he flipped on the lights to illuminate the grand room, stepping over a bit and rousing you in his arms. "Hey pumpkin, look- look over on the couch and see what Daddy got you."
Wary eyes cautiously coming out of hiding, you glanced over to the plush brown sofa, a small gasp escaping your lips as you whispered, "Strawberry sodas! Daddy, those are my favorite!"
"I know, my love. That's why I got them for you, thought maybe you'd like a treat for being such a good girl all month for me. You wanna have one while you sit on my lap?" the man offered as he gently placed you down on your feet, smiling as you gave him an eager nod of a response. "Go grab one, baby. Actually, make it two. Daddy'll try one with you, can't remember the last time I had something sweet."
As you skipped across the rug to grab the pretty glass bottles full of sparkling pink juice, Lloyd settled himself down in his black leather office chair, smirking silently at the sight of you bouncing in excitement from the "treat" he had bought for you. "Look Daddy, cute baby strawberry cartoons on the bottles!" you beamed as you made your way back over to him, climbing up to straddle one of his sturdy thighs as you faced in his direction, handing him one of the drinks.
"So cute, angel. Almost as cute as you," he smiled widely as he helped you pop off the cap before opening his own. "Cheers," he sang as he tapped the glasses together softly, trying to keep from salivating as he watched your puffy lips pink with lip gloss wrap around the mouth of the bottle.
Taking a few gulps, you hummed lovingly at the sweet taste. "Soo good, Daddy. Thank you, thank you, thank you!"
"You're welcome, princess. Go ahead, drink up. The whole box's for you."
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"You stupid, stupid baby."
Choking against the wad of lace shoved between your sticky lips, you let out a humiliated whine as Lloyd stood above you, towering over your trembling form with his hands pressed neatly behind his back. "Look at you," he snapped, "couldn't even get through tying you up without the tears starting. Isn't this what you wanted? You were so sad when Daddy wouldn't wreck your pretty little cunt on the spot- remember that, whore?"
Sniffling pathetically into your spit-soaked panties, all you could do was cry harder at the man's degrading words. Sobs wracking through your chest as you stared wide-eyed up at the terrifying man above you, you struggled to comprehend everything that had happened in such a short span of time. Where had your loving, doting Daddy gone? You should've been suspicious when he was so kind that morning, but silly little you, all you had thought was he had woken up in a good mood. Now it was clear that he had much darker intentions settling just below the surface the entire time; it was all a part of his game. He had played you like a pathetic little pawn.
Kicking your legs with what little strength you had left, you tried to struggle against the tight ropes holding you bound and open against the smooth leather of the office chair, but it was no use- you couldn't move more than a fraction of an inch in any direction. Watching you writhe and attempt to escape, Lloyd laughed a loud and mean laugh, his spit hitting your face as he grinned in sick delight. "Poor little slut. Can't get out of Daddy's knots. You know better than to squirm, sweetheart, but I'll let you get away with it this time. I have so much fun in store for you, I don't wanna waste any time on trivial matters like spanking your nasty little fuckhole."
Icy eyes trailing down, the man's gaze settled on your exposed pussy, the soft, delicate petals of your sex puffy from excitement and neglect. "Oh baby," Lloyd cooed, crouching down in front of you as his eyes became level with your dripping heat, "look so sensitive already. Haven't been touched in weeks, and it really shows. Daddy's gonna have so much fun with you. Aren't you excited, angel? Isn't this what you wanted?"
Crying harder against your makeshift gag, you shook your head desperately, a wicked smile forming on his face as your daddy nodded knowingly. "No? Why's that, princess?" Reaching out a hand, he snatched the panties from between your teeth, giving you only a moment to cough and recover from the forced intrusion. "Speak."
Lower lip trembling terribly as you fought back stronger sobs, your voice came out in shaky gasps as you stuttered, "P-please Daddy... p-please! Have'ta- please... h-have'ta go p-potty!"
Pure depraved thrill shone in Lloyd's eyes as you let out your admittance. "Stupid, stupid baby. Drank all those strawberry sodas, how many was it again?" Warm tears rolling down your cheeks, you whimpered with heavy regret, your tummy throbbing against the ropes holding you so tightly in place. "And now look at you, so full- you could nearly burst. Stupid fucking baby. Never use your fucking brain, do you? Time to teach you how tiny and dumb you really are, slut. You wanna know what happens when little girls cum with a tummy this full?" he asked cruelly, reaching into his back pocket to pull out a pair of black nitrile gloves, snapping them onto his large hands for a dangerously tight fit. "They piss all over themselves. Like the pathetic fucking babies they are."
The panties being shoved back in your mouth knocked the wind out of you, but it was two of Lloyd's thick fingers piercing into your drooling folds that had your eyes rolling back into your head as you struggled to catch air. Digits pounding brutally in and out of your aching walls, the man quickly made you into a sputtering mess, the friction provided by your slick and the rubber of the gloves sending burning shocks through your gut and up your spine. You begged, pleaded through the fabric wedged between your lips, but it was no use; Lloyd would get what he wanted. He always got what he wanted.
"So fucking wet, little slut- such a fucking mess you're making," he grunted as he increased the speed of his fingers, focusing his attention on the tender spot he knew could get you to snap in seconds. Warmth building up in your tummy, you did everything you could to fight the urge to release, but it was a losing battle. "Needy little whore went all month without getting to cum once- no way you'll last long. Horny little bitch, always ready to take whatever Daddy wants to shove up her filthy little cunt."
Ripping his fingers from your tight grip, he smacked his gloved hand down several times against your tender pussy, dissolving you into a squeaking, sobbing mess as your flesh burned agonizingly from the assault. "Stupid-" smack, "little-" smack, "baby-" smack, "gonna-" smack, "squirt-" smack, "all-" smack, "over-" smack, "and there's nothing she can do about it," he grinned widely as he shoved his fingers back in, his other hand coming up to keep smacking over your throbbing clit, "absolutely nothing. Can scream and cry 'til she's blue in the face, but Daddy doesn't care. Daddy's gonna make you cum, little girl. Gonna make you gush all over yourself, 'n there's nothing you can do about it. So keep fucking crying, you pathetic little bitch. Get those pretty cheeks nice and wet for me- maybe if you're good I'll fuck your face when I'm done."
Speeding up his thrusts once more, the thumb of his other hand settling in to rub tight little circles harshly against your burning nub, there was nothing you could do but lay there and take it as Lloyd brought you to the edge of climax within minutes. Noticing the growing look of terror on your face, the man's crooked smile grew wider as he taunted, "There it is, look at that. Knew she couldn't hold it in. Dumb little babies can't keep themselves from cumming, not when their daddies are finger-fucking their pussies this good. Come on, you fucking whore. Cum for Daddy, make a big fucking mess like the stupid fucking baby you are." With the curl of his massive fingers hitting just the right spot, and the pad of his rubbered thumb stroking painfully against your bundle of nerves, with a broken sob, you heaved as you submitted to your punisher. Your orgasm sprayed out against his relentless ministrations as he laughed cruelly in delight, "That's it. Filthy. Fucking. Baby. Give it to me. Give it all to Daddy."
When the waves of terrible pleasure finally began to subside, you were left gasping for air as Lloyd slowed his hands down to a gradual stop, mercifully reaching up to pull the panties from your mouth to allow you a little more space to breathe. "Dirty little girl, look what a big fucking mess you made," he shook his head heartlessly, rising to his feet as he snapped the gloves off his hands and tossed them to the ground. Grabbing a switchblade from his pocket, he flicked out the metal edge, running it harshly over the ropes holding you in place to set you free.
As soon as your sore muscles were released from their bonds, you collapsed against the sturdy frame of the rolling chair, still struggling to catch your breath as Lloyd spoke to you with disinterest, "Now clean it up. All of it. And throw the clothes away. Stupid little baby, ruined her favorite dress. Covered in piss now, pathetic. Disgusting." Reaching under his desk, he grabbed a roll of paper towels and a bottle of cleaner, tossing them at you, ignoring when you whimpered at them hitting you in the face.
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1K notes · View notes
xmintpiex · 2 months
Text
wc: 3189
pairing: Getou Suguru x fem! reader
In which a consumed cursed spirit changes Suguru’s life, perhaps for the better.
content: sfw, fem!reader, cursed spirit!reader, bunny girl!reader, mentions of death, light angst, fluff, comfort, friendship, romance
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You were just like all the others. A condensed black orb, pungent like garbage as Suguru swallowed you whole. It was an action, a taste he was so used to, that vile stench seeping into his throat, his bones, his soul. Each orb had a slightly different taste, some of pure anger, others of greed and envy. Others of feelings far more sinister. Yours was a taste of cold snow, of loneliness, of hunger, of abandonment. His hand subtly touched the cold stone wall of the alleyway. Suguru just needed a moment, a few seconds, before he would join up with Shoko and Satoru, who were busy deciding where to go for dinner after that bothersome mission they had just finished. The familiar nausea built up in his throat again as he threaded one of his hands through his black silk hair. It was the same as always, another curse consumed, a new tool on his belt. An endless cycle.
Until a faint strawberry scent wafted around him, inside of him. Soft yet cold arms gently wrapping around his neck as you materialized. Giggles bubbled from your soft lips as you nuzzled against him, your soft rabbit ears slightly twitching against his chin as you looked up at him with a strange sense of adoration. Your master.
Satoru and Shoko had nearly died of laughter the first time they saw Suguru emerge from the alleyway, a bunny girl latched onto his arm, both of them clutching their stomachs as Suguru told them to shut up in a tired, irritated tone. You looked on, tilting your head from behind Suguru’s back, your ears twitching as you watched him interact with the two other humans. The laughter, the flicking of foreheads, the bickering. It was all so foreign, so fascinating. So warm. 
You were harmless under Suguru’s control, something he had to assure Yaga the first time he came back to campus with you still latched to his arm, your cheek pressed to his shoulder as you rubbed your strawberry scent onto him as he continued to ignore the sensation. You refused to go away when he attempted to unsummon you, even when he glared and spoke coldly. You just pouted and looked away, still clinging to his arm. Why would you ever go stay in that boring, dreary abyss when you could stay here, where you got to see how those silly humans always interacted? Where you got to nuzzle against your warm, delicious-smelling master no matter how irritated his tone got.  
The first night at the dorm, Suguru had told you, ordered you to sit on the floor and not touch anything. Initially, he had said that you should stay in Shoko’s dorm room or one of the spare rooms as it would be more ‘proper’. Shoko gave him a blank look and Satoru had nearly laughed until tears sprang from his eyes at that notion. Proper!? Sure you looked like a cute bunny girl, like something out of some goofy anime, but you were just a cursed spirit. Nothing more (it was at this point that Suguru’s ears turned red and he told them to forget it, dragging you off into his dorm room, muttering under his breath). 
It hadn’t even turned 10 pm yet on that digital alarm clock Suguru kept on his bedside table when you had already snuggled up beside him in his small bed. Too cramped, too warm, too soft. Your strawberry scent too fragrant as your soft, fluffy ears tickled against his nose, your cheek against his chest. He sighed and grumbled, telling you to get off, swatting away your ears. A distraction away from those thoughts that sometimes kept him up at night, swirling deep beneath his dark eyes. The continued nuzzling against his chest, the flickering of your fluffy ears forcing him to look down, away from the dark ceiling he was far too familiar with, and instead into your big, sparkly eyes.            
At first, it was assumed that you didn’t speak at all because although your humanoid form was quite impressive, you weren’t that powerful compared to some of the other curses Suguru had. You hadn’t spoken a single word for the whole first month. It wasn’t until that sunny afternoon, the four of you sitting on a grassy patch on campus, that you had pointed at Satoru and called him ‘dum-dum’. He had immediately shut up, blue eyes wide, his usual smug grin wiped off his face, ending his talk on that topic he always brought up that you didn’t really understand but knew Suguru disliked, the words that always made him think far too much on those occasional rainy days, during those silent nights. 
‘Big dummy!’
You pouted again at the white-haired boy. Shoko and Suguru were silent for a moment, all eyes on you. Shoko broke the silence first, leaning over to pat your head in the way you loved, your ears twitching happily as she nonchalantly called you a good bunny while Satoru huffed, reaching over to pinch your cheeks as he pouted at Suguru, telling him to make his curse behave. Suguru was still silent, his eyes almost like liquid gold in the bright afternoon sun, a ghost of something soft and forgotten etched into his face before he eventually chuckled, joining in on the ruckus.  
‘Sugu!’
That was what you called him, his full name too complex for your limited speech. ‘What’s that, Sugu?’, ‘Want this, Sugu!’, ‘Buy that, Sugu!’, those words leaving your pouty lips on a daily basis. He’d always roll his eyes and flick your ear, placing one of his big hands on your head to get you to calm down with that warm, rubbing motion.
‘Ice cream, Sugu!’
Strawberry ice cream was your favorite of all the human foods you tried. You didn’t need it, you didn’t need any food as Suguru often reminded you whenever you stole a bite of his food or expected a sip of his drink. But you loved to eat regardless, the sensations, the tastes always made your ears twitch, your eyes sparkle in that way that always made Suguru sigh exasperatedly to hide his smile as he let you have another taste. As much as he loved to blame everyone else for letting you try too many snacks (especially Yu), always calling you a greedy brat, Suguru had been the first to take his wallet out on that hot summer day. The first to hand you that slightly melted strawberry ice cream cone that had made your eyes light up like fireworks.  
‘Hug, Sugu!’
Another cursed spirit exorcised, another one to consume. Like always, that vile stench filled Suguru’s throat as he swallowed it down, seeping into his bones. That festering taste that coated his tongue. Until your soft, human-like arms gently wrapped around his neck, an attempt to imitate comfort like you saw other humans do, your fleshy cheek on his shoulder as your subtle strawberry scent filled his nose, your fluffy ears tickling his chin. Hoping that the embrace was as soothing for him as it was for you. A light sweet scent, a warm feeling that was always able to seep past the suffocating, endless black slime, into his tongue, his throat, his bones. A soft strawberry aroma filling him straight to his soul.   
‘Wait, Sugu!’
That day, that awful, awful day, you did something naughty. Something bad. You crushed that small, gross purple spirit beneath your foot without a single ounce of hesitation. Smearing it against the ground before it could approach Suguru and cry out for him, latch onto him in the vile way it intended. It had belonged to that awful man who had taken away Suguru’s new friend, your new friend. Forever. It had been something you hadn’t really considered before, the frailty of human life. 
Until that human girl with the blue braids appeared. The one that Satoru and Suguru had been tasked to protect. That girl who had been fascinated by the twitching of your soft ears but huffed when you approached her, who couldn’t help but release her pent-up laughter when Satoru pinched your cheeks and tugged your ears as you pouted back while Suguru sighed. Her eyes had sparkled with a feeling you knew quite well. A familiar desire. That sunlight-filled afternoon on that beautiful beach, where you held out your prized strawberry ice cream cone (Suguru had bought you two scoops!) and her eyes sparkled so beautifully as she bashfully had a little taste, the two of you sharing smiles and laughter.
You would have fought against that tall man with the small scar on his mouth. Fight until your soul shattered, until you faded to nothingness if you had to. You would protect your master no matter what. But the moment that man appeared, the moment Riko lay limp on the floor, Suguru had sealed you tightly away into that deep, dark abyss as he released the other curses from it, his hands so close to trembling. That was the first time you realized that Suguru could seal you away whenever he wished. That he had never felt the need to do so until that moment when that little feeling of fear, of selfishness sank into his bones. The feeling of being sealed into that dark, empty abyss, so far away from that warmth, that familiar scent that you adored made you tremble. You hated it more than anything you had ever hated before. 
It didn’t matter to you if that little purple spirit could have been a valuable tool for Suguru. It didn’t deserve it, didn’t deserve to have its sludge seep into Suguru’s throat, didn’t deserve to be etched into Suguru’s soul. It didn’t deserve your Suguru. Its vile energy faded away beneath your heel and you turned to follow after Suguru’s retreating figure.
‘Wait, Sugu!’
You called again as you caught up and latched onto his arm, your soft hand entwined with the slightly limp one he had tried to keep buried in his pocket. Your familiar strawberry scent so heavy on his nose, like a thick blanket. You wouldn’t let go of him for the rest of that day, that night. For the rest of his life. No matter what. 
‘Eat, Sugu!’
You pouted, pressing the chopsticks to his chapped lips until they lightly parted. It was another solo mission for Suguru, there were so many of those now, which meant it was just the two of you. His dark eyes moved from looking out of the train window to your face. He sighed and chewed, swallowing down the warm rice of the lunch bento you had begged him to buy. His hand running through his dark hair as he went back to looking out the train window. Mouth opening each time you pressed the chopsticks to his lips. 
‘Stinky, Sugu!’
You giggled as you dragged his exhausted body to stand under the hot steam of the shower. He stood silent, eyes closed as always while you hummed and washed his hair, his face, and his body. Wrapping your cold arms around his warm, damp body. Your lips pressing a little soft kiss to his chest, his heart, his soul. The fluttering of his lashes as he looked down at you, his eyes so dark, so tired. His forehead coming to rest on the top of your head, on your soft, fluffy ears. Drowning in your strawberry scent as the warm water droplets dripped down his skin.  
‘‘So pretty, Sugu!’
You cooed as you brushed and played with his long damp hair. He scoffed and rolled his tired eyes, his ears red as he grumbled his complaints despite leaning back more into your touch. Calling you annoying, like always, as you rubbed your face against his freshly clean hair. He always smelled best like this, the scent so light, so easy to miss. The scent of just Suguru.  
‘Sweet dreams, Sugu!’
You beamed like always, cuddling up to him as he sighed, exhausted from a long day. His voice soft and quiet in the dark dorm room. Your cold cheek nuzzling against the fabric of his t-shirt, your eyes like little bright stars, legs tangled together. A ghost of a smile on his lips as his hand ran through your hair, stroking your ears. His eyes drooping and finally closing as he drifts off to sleep, your arms never leaving their place around his waist.
‘Hurry, Sugu!’
You called out impatiently, ears twitching, waiting for him to catch up with the two little girls in his arms. Villagers were peeking out of blinds, soft, frantic whispers from behind doors. They couldn’t see you, of course, their eyes only trained on Suguru’s tall figure and the little human girls with bruises covering their faces, but you still didn’t like how those gazes felt. Eyes too full of suspicion, of hate. Of cruelty. A perfect breeding ground for negativity, for curses, for things like you. You could feel it call out to you, attempting to unearth those memories of a lifetime ago that you kept deep within your soul. Of frigid, snowy days. Of bone-numbing hunger. Of that damp cardboard box.
But Suguru had already exorcised the curse that had plagued the village, the tips of your cold fingers still stained with the dark liquid it had bled. He had gotten the two little girls from that dark, caged shack, and already made a call to Yaga. The warm car was ready to take you back to the familiar grounds of the school campus, Shoko awaiting in the infirmary room, Yaga filling out paperwork. All that was left to do was leave.    
‘Too cold, Sugu!’
You whined and pouted as you got hit by yet another snowball before you could even throw yours. You almost looked like a snowman with the amount of snow that covered you. Shoko, your supposed snowball partner, had abandoned you for a smoke break under the warmth of the courtyard roof where Mimiko and Nanako were giggling with cups of warm hot cocoa. Shoko sent you a thumbs up whenever you sadly pouted in her direction, leaving you all alone to deal with the relentless snowballs (and teasing words) that Suguru and Satoru chucked your way. Those two meanies were ganging up on you! How cruel your master could be sometimes…
But…it was worth it. To see the red flush of his cheeks due to the cold, the way his eyes closed as he and Satoru grinned and laughed together. And so giggles bubbled from your cold, pouty lips. Mimiko and Nanako finally running to your side once they had finished up all of their hot cocoa, forming little snowballs in their mitten-covered hands. Satoru shouting how he wasn’t going to hold back against little girls before Suguru elbowed him in the stomach, giving him an exasperated look. His eyes like honey when he eventually called you over, dusting the snow off your cheeks, your hair, off your long fluffy ears with his large, warm hand. A frigid, snowy day turned so warm.   
‘So sweet, Sugu..’
A murmur against his lips before going back for more. The strawberry ice cream cone long forgotten. Your sweet strawberry taste coating his lips, his mouth, his tongue. The cold, sticky pink ice cream dripping down his hand onto his dark pants. His hand firm on the back of your head. Another warm spring day. Another mission finished. Another sweet reward. The taste of his smile on your tongue.       
‘Cake, Sugu!’
You beamed excitedly, tugging on Suguru’s sleeve to grab his attention away from Satoru as Yu and Nanami brought out the large white cake. The classroom had been turned into a makeshift party room, with balloons and banners as well as the piles of confetti that Satoru had thrown around. A little pink party hat attached to your head. A graduation celebration. You still didn’t really get it, why it was so important. Wouldn’t everything still be the same?
Satoru whining as Nanami cut you a cake slice that was supposedly larger than his (the strongest deserved the biggest slice!). Shoko half listening as Yaga lectured her about the case of beer he had discovered in the infirmary room (yet again). Yu hyping up Mimiko and Nanako for the amusement park trip you all would be taking tomorrow, their eyes solely focused on him with rapt attention and excitement, his laughter bright and cheery as he talked about cotton candy and roller coasters. Suguru sitting at one of the desks, legs spread out as he ate from his small cake slice, telling Satoru to get over himself (yet again).   
It would all be the same. You leaning over the desk, pouting at Suguru for a bite of his cake in exchange for yours (his always tasted better…). Suguru giving you an unimpressed look before indulging in your request, smearing a bit of frosting against your nose as he did so. His lips tilting up into what was supposed to be a smirk if it hadn’t been so soft. A flick to your nose and then the gentle brushing of his thumb against it to soothe your pouts.  
It would all be the same. Except that there would be no more nights in that small dorm room, warm and pressed together in that little bed. Instead, the two of you would have a whole little apartment to yourselves. A studio apartment, with a small kitchen, a bathtub, and a large, plush bed. Windows overlooking a quiet part of the city. A three story building wedged between a flower shop and a convenience store. Just the right size for Suguru to relax in after a day of teaching or going on missions. The tub big enough to fit both of you comfortably. The bed not too big so that your limbs would still intertwine, your head on his chest, his hand on your head, swatting your ears from tickling his face too much. 
‘Love you, Sugu..’
Perhaps it was a lie. Could a curse truly love? You didn’t know, Suguru didn’t know. But neither of you truly cared. The sweet words you always loved to say didn’t matter. The ticklish feeling of your soft ears on his chin, his nose. Your cheek to his chest, your cold arms around his warm body. His hand threading through your hair, rubbing your ears. Smiles and pouts, smirks, laughter, frustrations and tears. Eyes brighter then fireworks, lips pressed together so gentle yet hungry. Skin pressed to skin in the warmth of the bath. Hot summer days sharing ice cream. Crisp fall days laughing under the swirling of golden leaves. Snowy winter days, cheeks so red yet hands so warm. Sleepy rainy spring days, under the warmth of the blanket. The silence after battle, wiping away the sweat, the blood. Kissing away the taste of garbage. Your soft strawberry scent always present in his nose, his throat, his dreams.The way your name, your fragrance, your essence was etched into his bones, his soul, and his etched into yours. That was what mattered.     
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mischiefmoons · 9 days
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its 2am and im delirious im so sorry but
jealous! (and maybe clingy!)luke x apollo!reader when he sees the same couple of campers constantly coming to you for medical attention over small scratches or feigned illnesses just to get your attention..and reader is just so kind to everyone they’d never refuse to treat anybody no matter how minor the injury, but it drives luke a little mad teehee 🤭
🐥 also happy (late) birthday jo!!
🐥🐥🐥🐥🐥
luke castellan x gn!apollo!reader
a/n: i will never get tired of bf!luke.
wc: 947
“Be with you in a second, sweet boy!”
Your hands were fiddling with gauze as you brush past Luke sitting on the only empty bed left in the infirmary. And you weren’t even talking to him! Your words were directed to his half-sibling and with all the others waiting for you, it was obvious that you weren’t leaving your shift anytime soon despite his plans for your date night.
“Doc, what about me? I feel sick too,” he mutters into your neck, big hands pulling at your waist and playing with the smock tied around your frame.
“What’s the matter, my love?” You coo, brushing back his mop of hair and looking into his honey sweet eyes. He grins and it’s a bit boyish and quite sinister, all Luke with a definite trick up his sleeve. 
“My heart hurts…. because I pulled a few strings to have dinner with you at the lake and we’re not there right now,” he sighs, hot breath tickling your earlobe, “And I need you to fix me up too.” Cheeky asshole.
You bite your lip and slowly pull yourself away from his embrace, not without kissing the corner of his mouth before the fluttery feeling is weighed down by the reminder of your responsibilities at the sound of a scream from across the infirmary.
The room was filled with campers of all ages vying for your attention and waiting for your gentle hands to tend to everything from a scraped knee to a rising fever (though if you ask Luke, he’s so sure he saw Bradley from cabin 9 standing over the forge in the armory trying to break a sweat earlier).
It was sickening. Someone ought to tell these campers to get in line. Connor Stoll almost skips–excuse me, limps, (now that you’re watching him again) towards Luke with a shit-eating grin at his moody disposition at the fact that he has to fight for your attention.
“Beat it, loser.”
“Baby! Don’t be mean or I’ll ask you to leave. Get up, Connie needs to get his knee wrapped,” you say with a furrow in your brow. Your eyes dart around the room wondering where the rest of your siblings have gone to help you heal these campers, but unlike you, they’ve already clocked out for the day. It’s a wonder how many kids at Camp Half-Blood get brutalized, maimed, or both on the daily, but it’s all in a day’s work of being a child of Apollo.
“Yeah, move it bighead!”
Luke grumbles, rising to his feet and shoving Connor a bit harder than what’s brotherly, so much so that the preteen falls face first into the cot. (Luke thought it was dumb that the kid was acting like a baby since the idiot scraped his knee jumping off the roof of the dining pavilion because Travis and Chris dared him to.)
“OWWW!” he groans, and before you can react, Bradley’s asking for another cold towel and little Lila from cabin 4 starts crying about her sun poisoning from being out in the strawberry field—your shaking hands and wide eyes let Luke know you’re at your limit so he ushers you behind a curtain for examinations.
“Honestly, you’re overworked babe. Take a break,” he says sternly, but softens as you look up at him with a pout and a whole lot of love. He smooths your hair down and hands you a glass of water.
“Just need to see the rest of the patients for the day and send them on their way. I don’t want anyone to be hurt,” you mumble through sips, leaning against the wall and shutting your eyes. To Luke, it sounded like the quicker you get through this the more time he spends with you— and so he moves so quickly that you barely process what he’s doing until you hear various complaints from campers (who are annoyed that their new nurse isn’t as pretty as you and dons a fierce glare and curls that hang over his forehead like a dark cloud).
Nurse Luke models after what he’s seen you do here countless times, but in a way that’s very much his own. He gives out ambrosia and nectar, cleans up booboos where needed, tells Bradley to fuck off and take a cold shower, tapes Connor’s mouth shut, and awkwardly jokes to a kid from cabin 6 that he probably shouldn’t be the one doing stitches or he’ll get a scar that looks like the one running down his cheek. They agree to wait until later, holding bloody gauze to their chin.
By the time you’ve calmed yourself down, you pull back the curtain to see an eerily quiet infirmary (and you’re not sure if they’ve been threatened into silence) but everyone is bandaged, fed and watered—to the best of Luke’s ability. It brings up a sunny smile on your face that reminds him of the first rays of morning light which is a view he never gets tired of, and you finally throw in the towel when Leo and little Will come in for the evening shift. 
A resounding sigh is heard from the infirmary’s patients as you leave with your boyfriend, to which you don’t think much of as you look at Luke like he’s the answer to all of your problems. He kisses you in the doorway like its a cure, whispering sweet nothings and promises of a nice dinner at the lake even if it’s pitch black outside now.
It also serves to those damn kids as a reminder that he’s the one who gets to fuss over you and though he doesn’t like starting fights, boy, does he love ending them, in his own little way.
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minv97 · 6 months
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˖°. ˖°.𓆩♡𓆪 .°˖ ˖°.
Warning nsfw content Minors dni!!!
100 followers woo! I wanted to celebrate by writing something with Jihoon as ever since Move came out he's been wrecking me :(( also as part of the celebration my asks will be open for 24 hrs so go crazy while you can. My inbox will always be open so don't be scared to interact with me! I'm shy but nice I promise.
This is my first time writing for a member of Treasure, they're actually my ult group and I've been a teume for a good 4 years and I'm so so happy they're getting the recognition they deserve because they're very talented and handsome!
Jihoon's basically a horny MF and finds (fem) reader's dildo... Enjoy!!! <3
This yours?” You look over at Jihoon at the exact time he pulls out your shiny, pink dildo from your night drawer and you swear the nosey bastard did it on purpose, you roll your eyes at him and march over to where he stands.
“Why are you going through my stuff?” You snatch the object from his hands and go to put it back in its original location but Jihoon stops you, pulling on your wrist and yanking you towards him in one swift motion. “Wanna show me how you use it?”
You feel heat rush to your face but Jihoon ignores this, intertwining your fingers together as he walked you over back to your bed.
“Show me, I’m curious now.” He’s teasing you can tell, his eyes are crescent moon from the smile that reaches his eyes and were decorated with black eyeliner and blue eye contacts from earlier’s party, that being the only reason the pretty pain in the ass was still around since he claimed to be too drunk to go home by himself but now you’re realizing he tricked you, what he really meant was he just wanted to fuck you.
“Jihoon-” Your words get cut off by him literally shoving you into your back and you land on the bed with a bounce, the mattress under you dips as Jihoon is quick to climb over you, chain dangling in your face as he grabs a hold of both your wrists and pinning them above your head and just like that you’re trapped under him.
“When’d you get it?” His feathery bangs tickling you as he dips his head closer to you, nudging his nose into the crook of your neck for a few moments before he presses a single kiss there to the skin. “You smell like strawberries by the way.”
“I can’t remember, it’s been awhile.” You answer truthfully and Jihoon withdraws himself from you but only enough to you look you in your eye when he speaks. “Wanna play with it?”
Jihoon was too tired for his own good- the evidence clear in his eyes and you can tell every time he looks at you but his thirst to fuck you overpowered it. Sleep can wait, especially when you were his main priority.
You were tired too of course, but Jihoon knew you’d give in to him. He saw the way you had eyed him all night, like a fat kid eyeing candy in a store and knew you wanted it just as bad as he did, can feel the heat from between your legs on the palm of his hand when he releases one of your wrists to feel and palm your clothed pussy just to make sure his intuition was right and like usual it was.
“Can I please?” He almost sounds like he’s begging with the way his voice draws the words out against your neck, softly this time. You can feel his dick against your thigh, all hard and eager for you and your mouth almost begins to water just as much as your pussy has when the idea of taking him in your mouth corrupted your brain.
“Say please again.” You’re only teasing but you’re not surprised when Jihoon looks in your eyes again, a sinister grin grows on his lips and without batting an eyelash said please, this time even softer and he’s running the tip of the dildo along your lower lips.
The second you give Jihoon permission to touch you further he latches his lips on yours. He doesn’t stop to take the time to remove your underwear, simply pulls it off to the side and he doesn’t give a warning before he’s pushing the head of it past your lips and inside of you, your hole practically throbbing and clenching around the toy immediately and you gasp against Jihoon’s lips.
He finally releases your wrist to lift up on his elbow and watch the way the dildo slides back in and out of you, mouth drooling at the way you were already making a mess, your arousl dripping from the dildo and down your thighs every time he slid the dildo out of you just to push it right back in, your pussy squelching and sucking it right back in greedily and you lay there, hands gripping the sheets around you with your eyes closed and lips slightly apart, taking everything he gave you and the sight of you makes him chuckle you’re so adorable.
“Tell me,” he starts, you’re barely listening he can tell so he slides the dildo out of you, resorting to rubbing the tip around your clit for only a second before he stops that too, ignoring the pout on your lips as you open your eyes and give him a pleading look. “Does it feel better than me?”
“You want me to compare a toy to you?” You scuff, rolling your eyes.
Jihoon looks down at you expecting and waiting for an answer, you realize he’s serious and he’s not moving a second more until you give him an answer and you sigh in annoyance. “Of course you feel better, Jihoon. Always prefer you.”
“Yeah?” He’s smiling now because of the way your feeding his ego. “Does that mean you’ll throw this thing away then?”
“What about when you’re not around?”
“Slut.” Jihoon rolls his eyes at you playfully, tossing the dildo somewhere behind him and he’s back all over you, kissing along the exposed skin of your breast peaking out from your shirt and hands gripping your waist tightly, you only chuckle and savor the feel of him, running a hand through the back of his silky hair. “Yeah, but I’m your slut.”
Jihoon perks up at that, you can see how red his ears are getting from your comment and the effect of it all in his actions when he starts to trail his kisses lower and lower along the curves of your body until he’s at the hem of your skirt, he’s growing tired and impatient and can’t wait to have a taste of you, making sure he vocally tells you this before bunching your skirt up around your thighs for better access.
Silly of you to think Jihoon would finally stop dragging this out and allow you to finally get your sweet release, it’s like you almost forgot you were dealing with Jihoon. He’s trying to kill you, you’re almost positively sure of it when he presses his tongue flat against the seat of your underwear, can feel the very tip his nose rubbing against your clit as he leaves a long, slow lick up your clothed pussy, leaving his own wet patch of saliva.
He glances up at you with his pretty eyeliner and blue eyes, crescent shaped and disappearing behind his innocent smile. “Can a dildo do that?”
“Oh my god, Jihoon.”
“Calm down, I’m going to take care of you, baby. Don’t I always?”
After finally putting you through what felt like enough torture he pulls your underwear off to the side, he’s only kissed your clit but it’s enough to have your legs shaking as you struggled to hold them open.
“You’re so cute.” he presses another kiss against your clit, pushing two fingers inside of you, curling them inside of your pussy before retracting them only to slide them right back around your velvety walls, repeating the same process over and over again as he places his mouth over your clit, sucking and twirling his tongue around the bud just right to have tears pricking your waterline.
“F-fuck.” Your hands reach for something, anything and you find yourself intertwining your fingers through his dark locks, you’re not in the right mind when you begin pulling on his hair, can feel him wince slightly but he chuckles it away against your clit.
You really don’t mean to hurt the poor boy, but it’s hard, especially when he’s twirling his tongue around your clit so well and curling his fingers against your plushy walls. You had to admit the dildo couldn’t amount to Jihoon- hell, no other man could, but you’d have to keep that secret to yourself, didn’t need his ego getting any bigger than it already was.
“I’m so close.” You’re speaking absentmindedly, Jihoon knows how dumb you get, used to not receiving a response from you most of the time so the fact your even communicating now is surprising, thinks you must be feeling good and it’s enough to put a proud smile on his face as he glances up at you while he catches his own breath.
“Go ahead and cum baby, didn’t I tell you I’d take care of you?”
“Thankyou- thankyou so much.” You’re rambling off a bunch of thank you’s as your legs close around his head, unable to control your hips grinding against his mouth and using him like your own personal little toy and he enjoys every second of it as you cum under his fingers and tongue, lapping up all of your juices until it’s dripping from his chin and it’s the only taste he can remember.
You’re tired but you use the rest of your strength to pull him up to your mouth, kissing him and tasting your self in every corner of his mouth until you both need air.
“I promise when I wake up tomorrow I’ll suck you off until my throats sore and I can’t.” You’re still coming back to your senses but your sentence still makes Jihoon laugh, he pecks you on your lips once more before falling back onto the mattress next to you, throwing an arm and leg around you as he snuggled into your side. “No need for that sweetheart, just throw the damn dildo away.”
You can find all of my work under #minv97
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dreamties · 7 months
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Sissy Slaughter General Headcanons
A/N- Been super mega obsessed with the new TCM game !! my gf and i are, like, head over heels for Sissy so . . . Reader insert headcanons will be next! Warnings for some references to cults and dead bodies!
taglist: @friedwormeater, @strawberry-moonpies (let me know if you want to be added or removed!! <3333)
Prior to her initial run away from the farm, Sissy would put on live theater performances for her family, Nubbins & Bubba being her biggest supporters <333
She would still perform and entertain herself like this during her stint with cult culture, but it's not the same !! she loves the people she has met and surrounded herself with- but it is not her siblings ! and certainly not Granpa
When she returns to the farm, she'll often go down to the basement, where all the victims are strung up- she'll dance and monologue and sing to them, as if they were a crowd just for her
Sometimes, when she is most lonely, when her thoughts get the best of her- she grasps a victim's lifeless hand in hers and brings it about this way and that in this twisted, twirling slow dance!
She has danced with the corpses and she will dance again!
OHMYGOD Chop-Top and her would be the bestest of friends <3333 he used to play dolls with her when they were younger, he doesn't get to play like that with her until he's back from the war tho :(
Her nickname (in canon) is Sunshine! She really is a ray of it, she's so kind and sweet with the family. She tries her best to be caring- and the sinister beat of her heart is so innate to her as well. You cannot separate these two sides of her- you cannot have the good without the ugly (it's not ugly to me though !! I love her as she is hehe)
She's got a lot of guilt for leaving her family in favor for adventure! :( while she doesn't necessarily regret having these experiences (she has learned so much !! she feels so grateful, to be able to immortalize all these new memories within her- she would not change it for the world), she does wish there was a way that she could have done all that and not have abandoned her family
You wouldn't know it at first glance, but she's real polite! she puts a lot of respect into her elder(s) and older brothers
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