Solace-inu - Yes That's My Chonky Dog

I’ll post this here too c: “I’ve had many masters. Each and every one of them tried to break me, and each and every one of them miserably failed. They’d starve me, beat me, spit in my face and tell me how utterly worthless I am. They’d swear up and down that I was nothing more than a pathetic maggot… an abhorrent abomination. But you know what? I laughed, and, oh, how they’d rage. They’d give up, pass me on to the next gullible idiot far too easily parted with their gold. And the cycle would start all over again. So, tell me… what makes you any different?”

atomic punk // e.m.

wow omg an actual x reader? wild. anyway.

masterlist | ao3

“We’re starting a new event program,” your boss slammed a flyer down on the bar in front of you. 

“A what?” You picked it up, squinting at the font. It said LIVE MUSIC WEDNESDAYS AND FRIDAYS. FIRST GUEST CORRODED COFFIN. The imagery had a bunch of skulls and bats plastered all around the scribble of letters that you assumed was the band’s logo.

“Corroded… coffin?” There was no way you were reading that right.

“Sales have been shit, and they booked us every Wednesday for, like, a month,” he sighed. “They’re some local metal band or something.”

“You booked a metal band,” you stared at him incredulously. “Every week this month?”

“Fans means a crowd means tips, alright?” 

You made a mental note to pick up earplugs next time you were at the store.

Keep reading

Plausible deniability | Poly! Marauders; A. Dolohov:

Warnings: jealousy; the boys are kind of dicks in this one; reader is a certified smartass; my dialogue is pretencious as hell; Dolohov is a desperate flirt.

Your lads leave you alone at a party you took them to, so they won't care if you happen to dance with someone else. Right?

You had always been a good girlfriend.

Scratch that, you always were a great girlfriend.

And you knew that for a fact.

There wasn't one thing in this world you wouldn't do for your boyfriends. Your love for them was beyond any type of rational comprehension, to the point you had made yourself look stupid in front of others just because you adored them so much.

All those days you stayed back to reason with a teacher, or a prefect or with Filch and talk them out of murdering your beloved boys while those same lads were out running to save their own skin; All those times you went out of your way to fix expulsion-worthy mistakes they commited during a prank; All those nights you lost sleep so you could help them study for the incoming exams you knew they had been ignoring in favor of perfecting yet another grandious plan to humiliate the Slytherins.

That was how you told them you loved them.

And you did.

Not only did you simply love them, you showed them you loved them.

So why was it that everytime you looked at one of them from the small green and silver couch you were sitting on, they seemed to have one or ten other girls in their arms?

You took them to this party. You were the sole reason they had gotten in here in the first place.

Would it kill them to spend five minutes with you before going off to do Godric knows what with other girls?

No.

It wouldn't.

You weren't jealous. That wasn't the point. If that was the case you would have walked up to them, muttered some half-polite excuse to whichever person was flirting with them and pulled the boy to dance with you.

But that wasn't the problem.

The problem was that you always bended over backwards for them, to meet their desires, to make sure they were healthy, make sure they were comfortable, make sure they were always feeling their best. If something of theirs broke, you were there to fix it. If they couldn't understand something, you figured it out and explained it to them. If they needed help with anything, you were always there, at their corner, ready to help with whatever you could.

You had always been a show instead of tell kind of person.

Your problem was, they were tell but never show kind of people.

Not one of your boys ever hesitated to tell you that they loved you and that they couldn't live without you and that they'd do anything for you, but they never seemed to come through in any of those things.

And for most that you tried to brush it off as them simply being from a world different than yours, it bothered you to hell and back.

There was nothing you could do, and you knew it.

It would be no good to cause a scene and forever be branded as the crazy girlfriend, specially since you knew they made a habit of downplaying your discomfort when it came to the subject of them being overly affectionate with people who clearly had less than innocent intentions.

So you stood up as calmly as you could manage and slowly made your way to the little bar Zabini had set up.

Whiskey, beer, liquour and rum. One next to the other, all painfully dry. Perhaps if you could squeeze out a drip or two from each bottle you'd end up with a 1/16 of a full cup. But that wasn't enough for you. So you pulled back your hand, and just as you were trying your best to recall that fancy little spell that turned water into rum, the soft glow of light over glass caught your eye.

A bottle of vodka. The people in this party were visibly much more prudent than you could wish to be, for the bottle wasn't only untouched, but fully sealed and nearly glimmering under the dim reddish lighting that bathed the room, like a singing siren, lulling in the occasional unsuspecting sailor, the kind who was desperate enough to fall for her games.

Well, yo-ho, motherfucker.

Taking you newfound treasure into your hands, you poured the liquid into a whiskey glass, an inch and a half full over the bottom. And with no hesitation whatsoever, you took a long and patient sip, without even making a face.

- You know, dear, I have been standing next to this bar for half an hour. I've seen all those bottles be drained to the last drop, but not a single person was mad enough to consider touching my vodka. - The smell of the cologne that surrounded you as whoever that was leaned in to speak into your ear might as well have carried the stench of blood with it, because never in your life had you heard someone so painfully obvious in their villany speak in such a shamelessly ill-willed way. - I must commend you for your taste, красивая.

Antonin Dolohov.

Of course.

When did he ever miss a single chance to shark you?

Rhetoric question, the answer was never.

- I do enjoy the taste of nothingness and incoming hangovers quite a bit, thanks for the commendment. - Still staring into your glass, you pretended not to feel the way he very glaringly leaned into the spot you had pressed your perfume into just an hour ago. - Cheers, Dolohov. Good health to you.

He smiled wolfishly as he watched you empty that glass in one breath, walking around the table to stand as close to humanly possible to you. - As much as seeing you drink like this gives me hope that you will toss those three western boys and get with the one that could actually be your drinking partner, we should really get a dance in so I can tell you what is happening.

- Remind me again of why would I ever consider dancing with you...

- Because I know things that evolve not only you, bu you future in this lovely establishment you call home.

You scoffed: - Okay, Mr. Bond.

- I prefer Stierlitz, but Bond will do for now. - He gently took the empty glass from your hand, setting it on the table and slowly placing his massive hands on your waist, making sure to rub down the silk dress with his thumbs as he grinned at you. - Shall we, my dear?

- You better not be playing tricks on me, Antonin.

He immediately perked up at the slight softened tone you had emplyed, taking advantage of the opportunity to pull you closer as the both of you swayed to the upbeat madness of Siouxie and the Banshees. - Wow, first name basis again. Have you finally forgiven me, zaychik? Should I put your silk sheets back onto our bed?

- We were never in an empty room alone for more than two minutes, Dolohov. Let alone sleep together.

- You and I are meant to be, zaychik. You'll realize that sooner or later.

- You know I adore listening to your ravenous delusions, but cut to the chase, will you?

- Your wish is my command, my sweet. - You could feel James' eyes starting to search the area around you, and you couln't deny it hurt that he hadn't even noticed you weren't away being a wallflower anyomore. - A friend of mine has been fulfilling duty at Filch's office. He says that McGonagal and Slughorn have been going in and out of his office all day long, whispering secret messages, handing him suspecious papers with the ministry of magic seal, all sorts of things like that. So I told him to look into it.

- How wise of you.

- I knew you'd think so too, zaychik. - He had this strange habit of running the tip of his index finger up your spine and down your arms, and the fact that he was getting closer and closer didn't make you any less uncomfortable. - So anyhow, after Filch left, he found a paper near the burner and in this paper were your name and mine together, along with the names of all your ungrateful little lovers and the names of my friends.

- What the fuck?

- That's what I said. - He seemed genuinely amused by the fact you two held the same line of thinking, and it would've been actually a bit sweet to see him like that if your eyes didn't meet Sirius' for a split second. He did not seem happy. - What kind of paper would have the name of a two model students like you and I above a list of the most trouble-making and irresponsible people in the school?

- A paper that lists people who are either involved or facilitate riotous behaviour. The ministry wants to cut the tree by it's roots. You an I are fixers, casualties. They fuck up, we go there an make sure they're not expelled...

- Only so they can go and do it again as soon as the coast is clear. - He mumbled in an irritated tone just as the music shifted, and you had never felt so seen. - Cunts.

- You too?

- If you think trying to convince teachers that their favorite troublemakers shouldn't be thrown out of school, try arguing that same case for the students they despise the most.

- I can't fucking believe them.

- You and I are more similar than you would like to admit, my darling. That's why I'm warning you. That's why we should be together.

- You lost me at 'more similar than you'd like to admit'.

- Not even you can deny that we should join forces if we want those we care about not to be publicly humiliated. If we work together, and we find a way to invalidate whatever claims the ministry is trying to make, then we can save their arses and go along our lives knowing that we did the right thing while they were out being debils. - His eyes glimmered in hope as he watched you consider the offer, his hands pulling you flush into his body, so close that he could barely stand the warmth of your skin seeping through the layers of clothes that separated you. - What do you say, zaychik?

- You're right. I hate to admit it, but credit where credit is due. - Antonin could feel hilself swell up with pride, and he immediately took a step back, cordially raising a hand towards you like a proper gentleman.

- Pleasure doing business with you, little bunny. - Your hand met his as the both of you smiled, pretending you didn't hear Dolohov's heart beating out of his chest. - You have a plan?

- I have the begining of one.

- We could draw this plan out back in my dorm, perhaps I'll allow you some of my tsarskaya vodka.

- I'm not a whore.

- I wouldn't pay. - He grinned, seizing to sway for the first time and squeezing your hips in his hands.

- That's charming. Which Gangster did you steal that line from?

- It disappoints me that you don't know. It'll be my life's mission to educate you in soviet culture before we eventually get married. - You couldn't help but laugh. He was quite charming, and it felt nice to be noticed for once. But you were so invested in Antonin's back and forth jokes that you didn't notice Sirius calling for Rem and James. You didn't notice how mad they looked. And you definetly didn't notice that for the first time since they had gotten here, they were excusing himself off from the girls they had surrounded himself with. And they probably didn't notice that it was the first time in the night they had worried the slightest bit about you. - Oh, I love this song. You'll dance with me won't you? To celebrate our alliance.

- I should really get to to mapping out that plan. - You excused, drawing yourself back from him only for Dolohov to pull you right back.

- Oh, rumba. Sorry, you cannot escape a Frank Sinatra song.

- Is that so?

- You'll have to dance with me until another singer comes along. And I fear they just put on one of his longest records. - You laughed as he pulled you into him, guiding you through a performance of 'mind if I make love to you'. Your dress swirled around you, the iridescent fabric glowing under the light as he spun you around, and you felt glad you were here for the first time in the night. The same could not be said about the lads that watched as the two of you entretained yourselves.

You were in for it tonight.

Jjk flight attendants

call him bubonic the way he plagues me

my forever mood

as requested, a longer version of this drabble

synopsis: geto spared one woman from the village he exterminated due to the pleading of mimiko and nanako, now he has to live in between preaching a world without non-sorcerers during the day and sleeping with one during the night; a dive into the mind of a conflicted man.

cw: canon events (no major spoilers), death topics, fem submissive reader x cult leader geto, smut, oral (m -> f), 1.6k words.

The day was horribly busy, on days like these, where he had to talk in front of a crowd for such a long time, then entertain donors, then eat curses, Geto can’t sleep due to the loud noise of his mind, he would probably sleep if he was in a equally loud environment, but, except for the sound of your soft breathing, the room has dead quiet.

Dead quiet.

Geto sits up, the cold air hitting his bare chest as he takes in the sight of the red temple across the open window, a ruffling makes him draw and narrow his eyes to the figure in his bed.

He remembers the day he first saw you, trying to sneak in the room where Mimiko and Nanako were locked in, he was in the process of exterminating the people in that village so he didn’t think twice when he grabbed you by your hair ready to let a curse rip you apart but the deafening sound of the girl’s scream stopped him, only then he noticed a bag with food that fell of your hands.

He could see from a distance, you were like the rest of them, a regular non-sorcerer and a few minutes ago he decided what he wanted.

A world free of non-sorcerers.

He can’t make an exception. He shouldn’t.

The twins had tears in their eyes. They’re young and his responsibility now, so a helping hand couldn’t be a sin. He could leave you for last. 

Somehow he finds in his heart to spare you, and once he consolidated his power as a leader, he took the three of you in, the girls only leave your side when he’s around, they don’t approach anyone else except the two of you.

The first week you were around sorcerers he could see the fear and confusion in your face. Nanako tugged his clothing and he squatted to listen as she whispered to him “She cannot see them”.

So he provided special glasses for you, one with cursed energy so you could see what people like you shouldn’t, and he made Nanako hand it to you as you slowly began to comprehend what the weird events around you actually were.

She should be thankful, she’s only alive because of me.

He thought about that constantly, especially when watching you smiling and minding your own business.

And you are grateful and respectful towards him, almost never making eye contact, just keeping your head down and only calling him “Geto-sama”, he appreciated that, you should know your place.

It’s only a matter of time before he grows fond of you too, with his influence and your submission, it didn’t take long before you were in his bed, being happy to serve him in any ways.

It’s a contradiction having you around, he knows it. A monkey.

You sleep so peacefully, he wonders if you understand how lucky you are to make it so far.

Tonight could be your last night on earth, how deserving were you to live in his ideal world? You had two little girls that adored you, was that enough? He could just tell them something awful happened.

His cold fingers trace the back of your neck, ghosting your cervical spine.

You fell off the stairs and broke your neck, so sad.

That’s believable, the temple has many stairs.

His index finds your pulsing point.

A man attacked you, another monkey, and cut your throat, how horrible.

His eyes drop to your rising chest.

You fell on the lake and drowned, a terrible accident.

There’s so many possibilities to get rid of you without them blaming Geto.

Warm fingers unexpectedly find his hand, your small hand covers his. Suguru feels his human side returning to him, the dark cloud over his head slowly fading away as you take his wrist and you turn your head to kiss his palm.

He feels like crying, confused and guilty.

The bedroom is dark enough for you to miss the look of despair in his eyes, he allows you to caress the veins in his forearms, tracing it all the way to his biceps until you find his neck with your arm completely extended. Suguru gives in to the light pressure you make, bringing him to lay back down with you, You kiss his shoulders, his chest, his neck.

He doesn’t feel worth your kisses.

Again the contradiction.

You kiss his jawline and he stops you with a hand over your lips, he doesn’t want you to feel the way his lips quiver, you don’t ask questions, just accept and kiss his palm again, holding it against your cheek.

Geto is hard on you sometimes, giving humiliating tasks such as cleaning up the remains of someone who wronged him or capturing a curse that will for sure attack you. As much as he sometimes thinks of creating a space between the girls and you, the little ones always find a way back, helping you clean while keeping a non-morbid conversation topic or helping bandage the scratches you got from the small but feisty cursed spirited you were assigned to.

Yet you never once complained, always bowing in obedience with a soft “Yes, Geto-sama” coming out of your lips.

He knows when to treat you well too, sometimes he knocks on your room at night, sometimes he sends someone to call you over to his. When his whole cult speech was over he would dismiss everyone except you, to be alone in the giant spacious room with him, he likes to take you there, where your quiet sounds of pleasure bounce through the walls and create an echo.

You’re good to him, not to his cause, to Geto-sama you’re useless, but to Suguru Geto you’re an anchor.

He returns your kisses, sucking on your clavicle then down the soft skin of your breasts, where he takes in one nipple and licks until it gets hard enough for him to gently bite on and make you grasp.

Your hands find his hair, his long soft locks, the same ones you brush ever so patiently when Mimiko and Nanako turn it into a mess of knots from braiding and tying tiny silicone elastics on, you don’t scold them, even if it means to stay hours with Geto trying to undo it afterwards. 

They will grow up to be spoiled.

But he also could never scold them like a father is supposed to, deep down he knows he won’t need to, they adore him, anything he’ll say they’ll do. 

They’re good kids, he supposes he owns it to you too.

Suguru leaves a wet trail of kisses down your body until he’s in the middle of yours legs, he first starts by licking the surrounds of your clit teasing patiently as you get wetter, the sleepiness doesn’t allow you to protest or whine, only to close your eyes and take whatever he’s willing to give you while tangling your fingers in his hair.

When he finally gives your nub some attention in the form of sucking, your leg twitches, he squeezes it and places it over his shoulder, at this point he’s laying on his stomach vaguely thrusting his pelvis onto the mattress to relieve a bit of the aching in his cock he gets when eating you out.

He adds more tongue as he moves down your needy hole, which pulsates around nothing, Suguru hums nuzzling your glossy folds, the vibration goes straight to your hardened nub.

“Geto-sama” you moan when he fucks you with his tongue, the tip of his nose hits your clit perfectly, once he looks up to see you falling apart on him you shiver, his eyes are predatory, you wonder if you should retrieve your hand from his head, but he quickly closes them again, losing himself in the taste of you. God, you taste so good. What makes him get through the day when he has to absorb those disgusting curses is the thought of getting lost between your legs, sucking your nipples, eating his own cum off you, sucking your tongue…

He feels your orgasm approaching as you tug his locks harder, whimpering softly. Usually he would make you beg, stopping his ministrations just before you get there and delaying it until there’s tears in your eyes. Tonight he’s enjoying the silence, he might just let you go ahead, but there’s something he wants to hear.

“Say my name” he orders with a raspy voice.

“Get—“

“No” he bites your inner thigh, “My actual name.”

“Suguru” you roll his name so beautifully on your tongue.

“Keep saying it” he dives back, making out with your pussy and paying extra attention to your puffy clit as you call his name in a prayer.

He misses it, the way his first name used to be used, nowadays is just “Geto-sama this, Geto-sama that, master, sir”. It would inflate his ego if it didn’t come out of monkeys' mouths.

But Suguru? He left that for you only, even the other sorcerers he considers family just call him Geto.

Before he realizes you’re already cumming, hole pulsating around his tongue and heels digging on his back. He slows down his pace, nibbling on your glossy lips then taking your hand out of his hair to kiss it like you did earlier, the act makes your heart swell, you caress his face, thumb rubbing the dark circles under his eyes.

“Suguru” you call his name again, this time looking straight in his eyes, they don’t seem predatory anymore as he moves up finding a safe spot on your chest, where he lays down listening to your heartbeat as your fingers work through the knots in his hair, this time caused by yourself. Your other hand caresses his back and shoulders, whatever skin you can find to soothe him. Suddenly he doesn’t have the loud voices in his head anymore and manages to fall asleep again.

note: this was short but I wanna explore more of this side of suguru so my inbox is open to suggestions

don’t take my heart (don’t break my heart) masterlist

Dustin isn’t allowed to date until his sister, Kate, does. Problem is, he already has a girlfriend. He looks for help in the most unlikely place: the Hellfire Club. (complete)

prequel | my other works | taglist

00. prologue

01. head over heels

02. good old-fashioned lover boy

03. louder than words

04. love is a battlefield

05. bad case of loving you

06. moonage daydream

My copium au where they get to grow up

Alright, alright, had to pull my usual tomfoolery on this story. Jokes aside, ancient Eldritch God impersonating your missing husband in hopes you'll love him the same is a scrumptious (and horrifying) idea.