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y...yes, sir! anything you say, sir! || bori's 1k special - part 1

➳ pairings: al haitham, ayato, baizhu, childe, cyno (separate) x subordinate afab!reader ➳ part 2 with diluc, heizou, tighnari, venti, and zhongli coming soon! ➳ cw: not proofread, a bit of power play (duh... they're your boss), oral (m and f!receiving), dry humping (on a shoe lol and mattress), exhibitionism, deep throating, swallowing, face fucking, dumbification, mentions of impregnation (ayato), marking, mentions of tying up hands, overstimulation, unprotected, aphrodisiac (baizhu), kinda dubcon, fingering, you're a cicin mage in childe's blurb, mention of marriage in ayato's, lmk if i've missed any...!

➳ synopsis: what would happen to you as their subordinate...?

al haitham x secretary afab!reader

you’ve met al haitham several times before… the whole mess all the sages have gotten themselves into. it was only natural, being the grand sage’s secretary and all, you would often deliver documents and knowledge capsules between the two of them. you never really thought too much of the man and neither did he think anything of you. sure, he was, well, younger than some of your colleagues, a vision holder, and… undeniably attractive. 

maybe that’s why you’ve found yourself in this position. underneath the grand sage’s desk with a mouthful of the acting grand sage’s dick. you cannot believe the amount of control this man has talking to a matra with a straight face and unwavering voice despite being balls deep into your throat. not to mention, he keeps fucking his shoe against your clothed cunt and you’re absolutely sure that both his shoe and your panties are drenched at this point. you moan on his cock, the vibrations seemingly doing something for him as you hear his voice audibly hitch and his hand fly immediately for your hair, tugging at it as if to warn you.

it wasn’t your fault, it really wasn’t. if he would just stop using his shoe on you, order the matra to leave, and finally fuck you on his desk, you both wouldn’t be in this predicament. you’re almost led to believe that maybe he likes the idea of being caught, but then it dawns on you that he just actually likes seeing you anxious. this asshole only likes seeing you in this predicament, because he couldn’t care less about what others think about him. caution to the wind, you guess, and gulp down another whine, swallowing and stretching your throat out to make room for him even deeper as he digs the tip of his stiff sole against your clit. 

you’re so close and you can feel that al haitham is too. with the way his dick is twitching in your mouth, you decide to speed up your ministrations and apparently so has al haitham. you tune in a bit, noticing that their conversation is about to end as he hits a certain spot, noticing you falter and begins to abuse it. it’s becoming harder and harder to stay quiet with how his shoe works itself so well against your cunt, your slick aiding in the feeling. you’re about to pull out to cover your mouth when you hear the door click shut as al haitham pushes your head, your nose hitting his abdomen with ropes of his cum sticking to your throat. you’re shaking at the feeling—at the fact that him using you like a fucking sleeve made that coil snap and you spill your essence all over his shoe.

he yanks you up from your knees before the cogs in your brain could generate another thought, forcing your mouth open by pushing down your tongue with his thumb, making sure you’ve swallowed every last drop.

“you’re a competent secretary, by the way. i can see why you were kept around—your services are much needed everyday in my office.”

kamisato ayato x retainer afab!reader

you grew up with the kamisatos, your family serving them as their retainers. your parents served the former heads while you were taught from a young age to serve their heirs. when the former kamisato heads had passed, your parents began to serve ayato, until he had dismissed them—told them they should retire and enjoy themselves—something he had wished his parents had the chance to do as well. and so you inevitably became his personal retainer again. not that you were complaining, no, but it was different from when the two of you were children. things like helping him bathe, get dressed, and aiding him at the crack of dawn—it just wasn’t the same anymore.

especially considering that tending to his nightly duties included him being balls deep inside of you. face down, ass up, your kimono disheveled and almost in tatters, ayato muttering something about how he’ll buy you a new one, one that he’ll personally pick out—to him, it’ll be a sign of ownership. he kept his focus on plowing into you, gripping your hips so hard every night that you’re afraid you might find indents of his fingers one day, your insides already having molded to the shape of his dick.

you’re biting his sheets, trying so hard to not make a noise when he pulls out, maneuvering you over onto your back. he slips a thumb into your mouth as you suckle on it, much to his enjoyment, as he tells you to not muffle yourself. he pushes his length back inside, bottoming out when he caresses his hand over the bulge, admiring the sight and drags his hand back to your hips (where it belongs) and begins thrusting yet once again. you’re full on moaning now, relishing in the way ayato hits every place that makes your eyes roll back with his fingers playing with your clit, making the coil in your stomach tighter and tighter with every thrust.

when your orgasm hits, your hands fly to your face in embarrassment, blocking out any sounds leaving your mouth and covering yourself so ayato doesn’t see what a blushing mess you are. he tsks to himself, one that you can hear, but quickly throws whatever thought he had away, replacing it with the idea that he has all night to rid of those hands that’s hiding your beauty from him. perhaps maybe with your obi, or maybe a bright, red rope? how about both? what other sounds will he be able to hear tonight, what cries will he be able to coax out of you, he wonders, melodies that he can’t wait to hear.

his cock twitches inside of you at his own imagination. he leans down, his body almost flush against yours as he kisses your temple, placing a hand on the top of your head as his thrusts suddenly increase in speed, signaling him close to release. you’re whining at the overwhelming sensation, biting into his shoulder to help muffle your moans when ayato stills, pushing himself as deep as he can reach as he cums inside, his warmth filling you up.

“if this sticks, maybe this will give you a reason to finally marry me.”

baizhu x assistant afab!reader

you’ve been baizhu’s helper since he saved your life a few years ago. he had found you battered up and injured when he was visiting qingce village. it was only after he took you back to bubu pharmacy to take care of you, a complete stranger, were you able to recover. you didn’t know how else to pay him back, nor did you really have anywhere else better to go, so you asked for him to take you in, and he obliged, greatly appreciating the help. he especially appreciates your help in aiding him develop a new medicine.

one that involves his hand in your underwear. he coated the “medicine” on his tips of his fingers before shoving it down your pants, caressing it against your clit, massaging the substance in your insides. he pushes a finger to your entrance slowly, coaxing it in as it begins to make you tingle, your body heating up. you’re starting to get needy, grabbing at baizhu’s wrist when he keeps going agonizingly slow, and to your surprise, he lightly pushes your hand off. he says you have to be patient, that he’s making sure you’re properly absorbing the medicine, that he doesn’t want to hurt you, telling you all of this with a grin, not showing any hint of concern.

he finally pushes in a second finger, making you cum instantly around his fingers to his delight. it’s working beautifully on you, perhaps a little too well when you grab the hem of his jacket as he’s about to pull away, asking for more. he wasn’t actually going to stop, it’s not like he went in this purely for research purposes, but the way your cheeks are flushed, beads of sweat dripping down into the crevices of your shirt, the rise and fall of your chest from him riling you up—it’s enticing. he’ll just have to make a mental note for later and tend to you now, after all, it’d be cruel of him to leave you like this when you’re asking so nicely, right?

he tells to come to the edge of the bed, enough so that your ass is almost hanging off as he peels off your underwear, watching how it clings to your messy cunt, sticky with your cum and slick. he wets his lips in anticipation, wondering how well your essence has soaked up the aphrodisiac as he licks a stripe up your pussy, groaning at the taste. he can already feel it getting to him as well, the residue or whatever was left on you, he figures, is still doing its job. either from the high of knowing how effective his medicine is or the effects really kicking in, he starts to eat you out with fervor, lapping up everything you have to give him, the noise so obscene that they bounce off the walls of his room.

you don’t have the time to feel ashamed by how loud it is, your hands going to tug on his hair as he grunts in response, the vibration of it ripples against you making you moan. he focuses his tongue on your clit, licking and suckling the tiny bud as he shoves two fingers into you, saying something about how you’re still tight even after an orgasm and his drug combined. he’s rutting himself against the mattress of his bed, his clothed cock desperate for any sort of friction as he feels you tightening up around his fingers for a second time tonight.

he curls his fingers, thrusting them in and out as he watches you unravel on his tongue, the sight one to behold. he gently fucks you on his fingers through your orgasm as he cums against his tight pants, slurping up your release as he stands up, unzipping himself to reveal his still hard length.

“there are still more tests to run, i’m afraid, before i can put this medicine on… our shelves, you see.”

childe x cicin mage afab!reader

you, a regular cicin mage, have been assigned to work closely under the 11th harbinger, tartaglia, your immediate response being nothing but a simple “fuck.” you’ve met the harbinger before and you immediately didn’t know how to feel about him. he was so… odd? so… kind? compared to the other harbingers at least, and on the contrary you actually felt the need to be even more wary with him. your first couple months working under him were quite fine. in fact, he was a great boss, he was kind and understanding and after a bit, you’ve completely adapted to being by his side. 

that is until he drags you to a harbinger meeting, forcing you to sit next to him as he places a hand on your thigh, dangerously close to your crotch. he’s stroking the soft flesh, his pinky occasionally brushing over your clit, covered by your leotard. you’re lucky that the other harbingers can’t see what’s going on, though, they seemed to not care for your existence and presence at the meeting anyways. you try to brave up, attempting to push his hand away when he doesn’t relent, completely ignoring any signals you’ve been giving him, participating in the meeting as if he’s absolutely unfazed.

he goes from being subtle to shameless rubbing the nub, not hiding his intentions whatsoever, especially when he pushes your leotard to the side, playing with you skin to skin. your hands cover your mouth, not caring about what the other harbingers might think at this point when tartaglia dips a finger inside your entrance, slowly coaxing it in as he watches your expression, choosing to put in a second. the stretch is divine, two of his fingers already proving to be larger and deft, feeling better than whatever you might be able to do to yourself, and you’re confused. how is he touching you so skillfully? as if he’s already familiar with your walls and every crevice, curling the tips of his fingers to hit your favorite spot with every thrust.

you’re unaware of the obscene noises the two of you have been making, painfully unaware of how the jester has already brought this meeting to an end, some of the harbingers completely ignoring you both as they exit, others shaking their heads in disgust. you’re resting your head against your arms on the table, trying your best to hold in your moans despite having no reason to do so at this point while tartaglia gets more bold with his movements, ripping your leotard for better access and movement.

the squelching sounds and your heavy breaths bounce around the walls of the wide hall, ricocheting back towards you, only adding to your nearing release. tartaglia can feel the way you’re tightening around his fingers, fastening his ministrations until you cum. he groans at your pussy convulsing against him, the bulge in his pants growing larger and larger as he fucks you through your orgasm.

“darling, i think you’re gonna have to… work overtime tonight, am i clear?”

cyno x matra afab!reader

you’ve never really been a good subordinate, always skipping out on meetings as you deem them unnecessary, opting out on drinking with your colleagues, never listening to cyno. it’s not like you can help it, honestly. you have your own way of doing things and you still manage to get the job done regardless, so is there really any harm to your methods? technically no, and cyno has yet to really do anything substantial that could threaten your position, so you decide to test his patience.

his patience that apparently isn’t limitless, you’ve figured out. by…well, you know, the way he’s fucking you against the shelves in the house of daena. he’s keeping you captive, trapping your body with his as it takes all of your willpower and concentration to not make any noise—to not attract any attention towards you both. his chest is flush against yours, his cock fully submerged within you as you grip the shelf for some sort of purchase with one hand, the other desperately covering your mouth.

you can feel his breath, hear every groan that escapes his lips right next to your ear, the sensation only turning you on even further as his hand finds its way underneath your shirt, choosing to play with your nipple. he gives a particularly sharp thrust, as if he’s trying to elicit some sort of noise from you, saying something about how he’s been needing a reason to punish you, about he’s been waiting for this “opportunity” for a long time. his words are lost on you, could you not comprehend simple sentences anymore or was he spouting pure nonsense? you’re not sure, your head foggy from how slow he’s going, how he would suddenly snap his hips against yours, how sometimes he’d suckle on the nape of your neck or bite your shoulder, the figure eights on your clit, everything is driving you absolutely insane.

the general mahamatra, someone you figured whose sex drive was nonexistent, is throwing you for a loop today. someone who is more well endowed than you would’ve imagined, someone who’s filling you up oh so perfectly, the head of his dick kissing your cervix in ways that makes stars float right before your eyes.

at this point you’re tempted to place both of his hands on your hips, to urge him to fuck you right then and there in the house of daena, and you do, but all he does is grip your hips tightly, not budging an inch as he smirks against your shoulder.

“this is a punishment, remember? have i fucked you so stupid already that you’ve forgotten?”

➳ an: wow look at all those tags! also i literally have no idea why childe's banner thingy is so fkn blurry compared to the others... akhdkahsd

if you liked this, consider leaving me a tip!

you receive: my firstborn child

i receive: pt 2 of jjk men forgetting your birthday

pleasure doing business with you 🤝🫡

Smau: "Is it really that serious?"

- the jjk men thinking that you're overreacting after they forget your birthday

pt. 1: here

nanami, choso, geto, sukuna, shiu, toji, and gojo

contains: angst [lol, are y'all ready to be angry?] 😂

I enjoyed every second of this quest

[This art has platonic intention. Thank you for not tag ship!]

⌗︙・choking nanami ⸜⸜・

"kento, i can't." you moan, trying to ride him without your knees hurting. you want to take a break, you want him to fuck into you because he's so fucking good at it.

"a bit more." he tells you and you rise on his cock again. you smile when he finally meets your thrusts. his thrust are quick and deep and you can feel him in your belly. he would never admit it but he loves when struggle at his cock. you finally relax, falling on his chest but he quickly puts your body up again.

"oh no no, love. work for it."

you whine internally but you use the strength you have left to bounce on his as best as you can. so lost in pleasure, you can't realize your hand fell around his neck, squeezing it lightly.

"what are you doing?" he moans with a shortened breath. you finally notice your action when he grips your wrist. you look down at him, realizing what you just did.

"im so sorry. are you okay?" you apologize, stopping all of your movements. nanami thrusts in suddenly, making you let out a confused moan.

"do it again, sweetheart. come on, put it back."

remember,

you are a writer.

say it. say it in your head, say it out loud, say it to yourself as many times as you need to say it.

you are a writer.

and it doesn't matter when you started, or where you skills and style lie in this literary world. what matters is that you are a writer and you're sharing your works. sending out real works to publications, literary journals, etc. is scary and rejection is normal. and yet you're here, on tumblr, on ao3, writing works because you can.

and you know what, you're reaching an audience who looks forward to your works and that's something to be proud of. whether it's a few people who read your works, to hundreds, to thousands, you're reaching an audience and you should be proud of that!!

there are times when writing gets hard and giving up feels so easy, but what's so admirable about everyone here is that we keep going. we take breaks and read other people's works, we take hiatuses to focus on ourselves and come back with new ideas and even more writing. and even if you decide that perhaps writing fanfiction isn't your forte anymore, that's okay. you wrote because you could and you did.

you are a writer. and that's something to be very proud of.

sometimes, being in love can hurt. w/ bakugou! :D warnings: angst, hurt/no comfort, ambiguous ending

"i love you." he swallows thickly, "you know that right?" bakugou stares at you from where you stand at the other end of the room, your arms hugging your body as if it was the only comfort it could bring you in the cold, tension filled room. two candles flicker in the corner of the room, side by side on a mahogany table where papers threaten to catch fire and burn, the same way your eyes burn as tears begin to sting the longer you keep your eyes open. blinking means letting the tears rush down your cheek, blinking means crying, blinking means breaking. and the last person you want to break in front of, is bakugou katsuki.

"i know." your voice is surprisingly steady, far too calm for his liking. but the tell-tale signs of your nervousness are present: a shaky inhale, lip pulled between teeth, and shaking hands you curl into fists. you refuse to meet his gaze, no matter how hard he silently begs, and he can feel that anxiety creeping into his chest.

for once, he sucks up his pride, that same explosive pride that drips from his words like pretty poison, sinking beneath the skin until it burns. he swallows thickly as he stares at you and for the first time, he can't tell what's going through your mind. it scares him, more than he'd like to admit. his mind screams at him to do something, do anything that might offer some sort of comfort. but his limbs refuse to move, the mere thought of you moving away being enough to render him still.

so where did it all go wrong? when did coming home start to feel like anxiety crawling up your arms when you twisted the doorknob to enter a space that was once filled with love. bakugou katsuki rises to the top with a triumphant grin, baring his fangs for all to see as he shows off the skills that have gotten him so far. and still, he refuses to stop, brandishing scars like medals, roaring for victories as he grins at the sight of villains cowering just at the sound of his name.

you take a shaky breath, "it's just, sometimes— sometimes, bakugou, you can be so cruel." bakugou. bakugou. not katsuki. not baby. not any of the sweet nicknames that have tumbled from your lips with such laughing adoration. just, bakugou.

"you say you don't mean things when you're upset." your voice cracks and his brows furrow. his hands twitch at his sides but just as he's ready to move forward, you look up at him and let him see the tears that are threatening to fall. "so why doesn't it feel that way?"

instantly, he's brought back to the night before, when he greeted you after a long day from work with nothing but an irritated grunt. you had tried, as calmly and patiently as you could, to coax him to open up, stepping on eggshells in the warm space of your living room until he snuffed it out. words bounced around the walls as voices rose, desperation in your tone as you refused to back down from him.

this is what it meant to fall in love with bakugou katsuki. it's harsh words and cold sneers, putting up a front and reminding yourself, after your tears had dried, that he still cared. he shows his love in different ways, and he tries his best to show that he cares.

"i'm sorry." he says hoarsely. he doesn't know what else to say anymore. he can feel the thread about to break and the thought of that terrifies him. he sees the first tear fall and his chest lurches. you brush it away as quickly as it fell and look away, up at the ceiling in an attempt to blink away the rest that have started to spill down your cheeks.

"i need to cool off." you take a deep breath and take a step back. "i've already texted mina. i'm staying at her place tonight."

he remains frozen in place, unable to move, only to whisper, "okay," as his voice breaks.

perhaps in another time, in another world where the stars were honest and the moon didn't tell lies in reflection pools, things would be different. and as you walk out the door, a candle dies out.

reblogs and comments are greatly appreciated! <3 a/n: this was supposed to be a tighnari fic but i felt like it fits bakugou better!

Fanfic writer ask game

1. Favorite scene or line from (fic name)? 2. Did you have any ideas that didn’t make the final cut of (fic name)? 3. Is there any trope/scene you've been wanting to write? 4. Would you ever consider writing ____? 5. Would you ever collab with another writer for a fic? 6. What character(s) do you find it most difficult to write? 7. Have you ever written anything based on personal experience? 8. Which fic or hc do you feel most proud of? 9. What scene in (fic name) took the longest to write? What was difficult about it? 10. If you wrote a sequel to (fic name), what would it be? 11. Post something from a current wip or concept 12. The funniest comment someone has left on a fic of yours? 13. Inspiration for (fic name)? 14. My favorite line from this fic was [xyz]. What inspired it? 15. Any changes that you've noticed in your writing since you started? 16. Favorite thing about (fic name)? 17. Free space-- ask anything 18. How'd you come up with the title for (fic name)?

Favorite ship dynamics

Jason: I’ll give you $5 to tell Dick you haven’t seen me today.

Bruce, a literal billionaire: What did you do?

Jason: And I’ll call you Dad in front of the lanterns.

Bruce: Done.

pls :(