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day8423 · 1 year

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the idea of fiona being cursed randomly (us as the audience never discovering a reason this unknown witch put a spell on her), has always been so interesting to me. multiple times i've considered diving into writing a backstory, why she was cursed, why this witch decided fiona was destined for true loves kiss. i actually do have a whole load of headcanons and metas stored in the back of my brain, which in actuality would flesh it out and grant a reason why. but i have never put them to paper, nor will i ever, because i kinda love that we don’t know? (yeah it was probably just the writers once again belittling fiona over her male counterparts and deciding their stories were more important… but i ain’t gonna rant about that right now.) it aligns with good vs evil, the stereotypes that these films portray. fiona’s been raised on very straight forward beliefs that put her in that tower in the first place.

we never know what the witch’s motive was: was she plain evil, or was something else planned down the line? either way, far far away proved itself tenfold as a stick to the book kind of kingdom, keeping in line with all stereotypes and never drifting too far from fated paths. in fiona being cursed, harold immediately grew concerned regarding the stray of expectancy, and did everything in his power to get his daughter, his kingdom, and his own happily ever after back on track. rather than seeing how things might play out, he went to a well-known solution and beloved story: a fair maiden locked away in a tower. not actually knowing why the witch cursed fiona, ultimately reinforces the notion that far far away is a very closed minded kingdom (at least where the king is concerned, despite his own backstory). however all this unwillingly places fiona into the role of a princess like no other, the first strike of independence. she steps out of her destined pages, and rewrites her own story. and along that road, changes the entire mindset of those in higher positions in far far away. she gives lesser respected creatures a voice, advocates that being different is okay, and not only beautiful people deserve a happy ending.

i have also loved the idea that it could have been fairy godmother that cursed fiona as a little girl, under disguise as a haggard witch, in order to assure her sons place in far far away when both children grew up. then, she presented herself under a guise of goodwill, promoting this plan of locking fiona away in a tower for her own safety and security, setting the wheels in motion from the beginning. lillian and harold were so desperate for help, and she took that vulnerability for granted. which all this was not difficult given harold’s debt to her; she knew he would listen lest he risk himself and his position. (i genuinely don’t think lillian had much say in all this, but that is a rant for another time!) she waited until fiona was old enough, rather than cursing her as a baby. ‘when i was a little girl a witch cast a spell on me.’ old enough to know how to act and behave as a member of royalty, but still young enough to be moulded and naïve regarding some aspects of the world. that when she returned with charming, she would lack experience and knowledge of how to truly be a princess, given her isolation and separation from her people. thus, charming and godmother could shape her as they pleased, and gain proper reigns of far far away over carefully planned precision.

either way, cursed by fairy godmother or a random witch, fiona is never going to find out, and eventually she becomes okay with that. for a long time all she wanted to know was why. why her. why was she so different to every other princess out there. never knowing why she was cursed really does just strengthen her mindset because while she struggled with it for such a long time, it shaped her into who she is. there’s no grand backstory, she has nothing to truly blame, no one to seek revenge upon; she just needs to deal with it. furthermore, because it was random and seemingly an act of unjustified cruelty, it allowed fiona to break herself free from feeling like a victim, and get out of the tower when she did. it wasn’t destiny that cursed her, it wasn’t set in stone, her life wasn’t meant to exist in a lonely tower. if her parents had said from the beginning that it was supposed to be her story, those three stages (cursed, tower, rescue) then she would have been crafted to live like that. it would have been expected. alas, it wasn’t any kind of fate, so she really just gave a big middle finger to feeling like a victim, and took her story into her own hands!!

#ii. every princess is a beauty / every dragon must be cruel : study.#long post /#also this might seem like a harold hate blog.#(kinda is)#i DO think he loved his family a hell of a lot.#and genuinely thought he was doing what was best for fiona at the time.#but his mindset would have been VERY different if he wasn’t so scared of risking his own position and happy ending.#he’s just a weakling lbr.#also all this really is taking from my own interpretation rather than anything canon with shrek.#i probably shouldn’t need to reinforce that but like.#shrek is NOT canon here. <3 #unless specifically stated.#fiona runs her own world thank u very much!!#but yeah just the curse is so interesting to me!!!#the fact that there is legit no backstory when there could be an amazing one!#fiona being cursed really was the best thing that ever happened to her mkay.#after like...#twenty five years or so she comes to realise that rifp.#the irony in the fact that fiona’s curse was not destiny. it was random. and as such allowed her to break free from the shackles #of those emotional and physical restraints and become who she is.#but if it WAS destiny then she would have remained the dutiful princess because it was apparently who she was supposed to become.#she wouldn’t have questioned it.#i am overthinking this i know but.#i just LOVE that we don’t have a backstory.#i think it makes it way more intriguing.

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transselkie · 7 months

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Trying to make a character playlist

Anyone have any songs to capture the feeling of “I don’t actually want him to love me back” or “I think I’m content to die alone because I don’t know that I believe romance has ever brought anyone happiness”?

#this character is a teen in love with his straight best friend #who comes from a horribly abusive home with parents who got trapped together in a shitty small town #and he’s decided that all relationships become traps so he’d rather not risk trying #friendship suits him just fine actually #please do not perceive his crush. the balance in this relationship is good. anything else will just break it.#(spoiler alert: best friend is a bit of a dumbass and genuinely entierly unaware of the crush despite the fact that they’re basically dating #but uhhhh turns out he’s not straight. he falls in love with another boy entierly.#once he starts that relationship he’s like wait fuck wait shit wait why does this feel just like my friendship with my bestie ohh nooo #and the bestie is. soo fine with this. he’s GREAT. SO good. He can escape this shitty small town with this new guy & that will be just. fine #and genuinely he’s not even that upset that he’s in love with this other guy. like of course he is. he’s so dumb of course he’d realize hes #bi like this #and he really doesn’t actually want to be in a relationship with him. like genuinely. it would break the safety.#the crush is only possible because he’s so safe to be around and if he liked him BACK that safety is ruined #but they were supposed to be trapped here together you know.#rant tag

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ljf613 · 2 years

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Momiji crossdresses because it helps him feel close to his mother.

He stops crossdressing when he reaches a point where the face in the mirror is too masculine to mistake for hers (or his sister's).

There's some symbolism there about letting go and moving on and accepting that there are things you can't get back and acknowledging that no matter how hard you try, you can't really be anyone but yourself. The same themes that run through the entire series.

Why is this so hard to understand?

#fruits basket #furuba #thoughts #momiji sohma #fandom critical #everytime i see another post going 'momiji should have been allowed to keep crossdressing' or 'it's not something he had to outgrow'#i lose braincells #OF COURSE IT WAS SOMETHING HE NEEDED TO OUTGROW #it was a TRAUMA RESPONSE to being rejected by his mother #if he'd been different maybe she wouldn't have pushed him away #if he'd been a girl she would have been able to hold him #he NEEDED to let go of all his 'what ifs' and learn to live with 'what is'#rather than spend his life chasing a daydream #and learning to let go is HOW HE BROKE HIS CURSE #because that's what the curse IS #it forces connections that don't need to exist and cuts away ones that do!!!#it traps you in regrets of the past and doesn't let you move forward!!!#the only way to break it is to accept losses and risk isolation by stepping out of your comfort zone #which is what momiji does!!!#and that foreshadows what AKITO eventually does!!!#what are y'all not getting?!?#all queued up

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dramatisperscnae · 1 month

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👀 Dickie

[Send the thing, get a rating || accepting]

Bold for definite Italics for situational/verse dependent

#Communication #knightective #concerning dick #[Bruce is Dad(tm) so I mean those middle three are /right out/#and as much as Dick never wants to entertain the option or idea of Bruce needing to be stopped #he DOES recognize that they walk a very fine line and Bruce HAS had to be pulled back before #and that Bruce would RATHER be stopped or even killed than risk betraying everything he has ever fought for #so as much as Dick would HATE HIMSELF for it #if circumstances came right down to that necessity? he'd absolutely pull the trigger #and he wouldn't let anyone else do it either. It would probably break him to do it but >>;;]

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whetstonefires · 11 months

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You know what I realize that people underestimate with Pride & Prejudice is the strategic importance of Jane.

Because like, I recently saw Charlotte and Elizabeth contrasted as the former being pragmatic and the latter holding out for a love match, because she's younger and prettier and thinks she can afford it, and that is very much not what's happening.

The Charlotte take is correct, but the Elizabeth is all wrong. Lizzie doesn't insist on a love match. That's serendipitous and rather unexpected. She wants, exactly as Mr. Bennet says, someone she can respect. Contempt won't do. Mr. Bennet puts it in weirdly sexist terms like he's trying to avoid acknowledging what he did to himself by marrying a self-absorbed idiot, but it's still true. That's what Elizabeth is shooting for: a marriage that won't make her unhappy.

She's grown up watching how miserable her parents make one another; she's not willing to sign up for a lifetime of being bitter and lonely in her own home.

I think she is very aware, in refusing Mr. Collins, that it's reasonably unlikely that anyone she actually respects is going to want her, with her few accomplishments and her lack of property. That she is turning down security and the chance keep the house she grew up in, and all she gets in return may be spinsterhood.

But, crucially, she has absolute faith in Jane.

The bit about teaching Jane's daughters to embroider badly? That's a joke, but it's also a serious potential life plan. Jane is the best creature in the world, and a beauty; there's no chance at all she won't get married to someone worthwhile.

(Bingley mucks this up by breaking Jane's heart, but her prospects remain reasonable if their mother would lay off!)

And if Elizabeth can't replicate that feat, then there's also no doubt in her mind that Jane will let her live in her house as a dependent as long as she likes, and never let it be made shameful or awful to be that impoverished spinster aunt. It will be okay never to be married at all, because she has her sister, whom she trusts absolutely to succeed and to protect her.

And if something eventually happens to Jane's family and they can't keep her anymore, she can throw herself upon the mercy of the Gardeners, who have money and like her very much, and are likewise good people. She has a support network--not a perfect or impregnable one, but it exists. It gives her realistic options.

Spinsterhood was a very dangerous choice; there are reasons you would go to considerable lengths not to risk it.

But Elizabeth has Jane, and her pride, and an understanding of what marrying someone who will make you miserable costs.

That's part of the thesis of the book, I would say! Recurring Austen thought. How important it is not to marry someone who will make you, specifically, unhappy.

She would rather be a dependent of people she likes and trusts than of someone she doesn't, even if the latter is formally considered more secure; she would rather live in a happy, reasonable household as an extra than be the mistress of her own home, but that home is full of Mr. Collins and her mother.

This is a calculation she's making consciously! She's not counting on a better marriage coming along. She just feels the most likely bad outcome from refusing Mr. Collins is still much better than the certain outcome of accepting him. Which is being stuck with Mr. Collins forever.

Elizabeth is also being pragmatic. Austen also endorses her choice, for the person she is and the concerns she has. She's just picking different trade-offs than Charlotte.

Elizabeth's flaw is not in her own priorities; she doesn't make a reckless choice and get lucky. But in being unable to accept that Charlotte's are different, and it doesn't mean there's anything wrong with Charlotte.

Because realistically, when your marriage is your whole family and career forever, and you only get to pick the ones that offer themselves to you, when you are legally bound to the status of dependent, you're always going to be making some trade-offs.

😂 Even the unrealistically ideal dream scenario of wealthy handsome clever ethical Mr. Darcy still asks you to undergo personal growth, accommodate someone else's communication style, and eat a little crow.

#hoc est meum #pride and prejudice #elizabeth bennet #charlotte lucas #meta #charlotte is a much less sociable person than lizzie #so avoiding her husband most of the time and not seeking out his company is more viable for her!#she also has more patience for people being wrong #partly i think because she kinds checks out and lets them get on with it which lizzie isn't too great at even with her mother #people have different needs like that's a thing okay #marriage #spinsterhood #pragmatism #like if elizabeth had to listen to collins talk for a few months straight she would be nearly insane with rage #he's not just a low-quality man he's a man designed to be the worst for her specifically #also note that because jane's marriage is elizabeth's fallback plan #darcy screwed her over personally by interfering between her and bingley #she ofc does not bring this up how could she #but it's intensifying the anger during the hunsford rejection i think

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diamondsunbursts-and-marblehalls · 5 months

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The first real conversation Katniss has with Peeta is when he tells her that he wants to die as himself, that he doesn't want the games to change him into something he's not, and that he wants to keep his identity and prove he's more than just a piece in their games because that's the only thing he has left to care about.

The first time we see Lucy Gray she sings a song that basically says that nothing they could take from her was worth keeping. "Can't take my past. Can't take my history... You can't take my charm. You can't take my health."

The capitol has taken everything from them both, but at the same time, they could never take away who they are.

They are both likeable charismatic and funny, with the kindest hearts, and incredibly loyal to the people they care about.

At the same time, everything they do before the games, and during is calculated. Lucy Gray singing a love song and winning the hearts of the capitol. Peeta confesses he's in love with his district partner, therefore cementing her identity as desirable. Both of them know how to sway people with words, how to charm people, and how to manipulate crowds. Neither of them has any problem doing so to keep themselves, and the people they love safe.

Lucy Gray's song The Old Therebefore, about learning how to love and live her life to the fullest before death, a final and calculated stroke in a last-ditch effort to save herself from the arena. This evokes enough emotion in the watchers to get them to rise to their feet and plead for her life alongside Snow.

Snow, watching the 74th and preparing for the 75th Hunger Games sees Lucy Gray in Katniss. A young girl, from the 12th district. Unafraid at the reaping. Selling a false love story, manipulating a boy who loves her in order to get out and supporting the revolution with the mockingjay as her symbol.

He threatens her family to get her to sell that she and Peeta are in love, to prevent the revolution, because obviously, she's pretending. He's had experience with a girl just like her before. He has no doubt that she has the acting ability to sell this story because clearly, she manipulated the first Hunger Games in her favor, the same way Lucy Gray manipulated him.

Watching the interviews for the 75th Hunger Games he realizes-

Katniss is just an impulsive girl, in a Mockingjay dress she didn't know about, made by someone who supports the revolution.

Peeta is a boy who has the ability to move people with just his words. He made Katniss desirable, he was the one who sold the love story, and he was the one to make their romance seem real. Katniss only started the revolution because she would rather risk dying with him than live without him. A concept President Snow was completely unfamiliar with. And it is with all these realizations crashing around him Peeta drops the baby bomb. He knows the baby's not real, and so does Snow. But it evokes enough emotion in the watchers to get them to rise to their feet and plead for the lives of the tributes.

Is it Lucy Gray or Peeta?

By the time Snow realizes he's made a mistake, it's too late.

Peeta is still charming and manipulating the capitol. Katniss is in love.

He goes up against a kindhearted boy expecting to beat Sejanus again, only to find out that it's Lucy Gray he's fighting; knowing he will never be able to escape their ghosts.

-from a conversation i had with @grandtyphoonpoetry breaking down every character in the hunger games.

#I have so many thoughts about this #they are so powerful with their words #i will never get over how many different kinds of power fueled this revolution #everything came full circle #peeta mellark #lucy gray baird #katniss everdeen #coriolanus snow #president snow #the hunger games #hunger games #the ballad of songbirds and snakes #ballad of songbirds and snakes

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mostly-imagines · 28 days

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Banished

jason todd x fem!reader

aka jason misses his girlfriend

warnings: extremely mild angst, he’s just mopey (he’s fine)

Jason sits slumped over the kitchen island, head lying in his crossed arms. His now soggy cereal disregarded after barely a few bites.

Dick’s been rummaging through the cabinets for the better part of twenty minutes and Tim sits atop of the nook table shoving donuts in his mouth for the better part of thirty.

Damian trudges past them to the nook bench, taking out a knife and beginning to whittle away at a block of wood.

He glances at Jason with a scowl. “If you’re going to be so miserable, can’t you do it in your own home?”

Jason just grunts.

He wishes. You and Bruce had conspired to trap him at the mansion for the week so he could heal from injuries sustained during the last mission without risk of him suiting up and sneaking away from you in the middle of the night.

It’s not even the fact that he’s basically being babysat that’s got him so disgruntled. He wouldn’t mind it at all if you were here too. But you were dead set that the manor was too far out of your way for work, so you’d stay behind. A lose-lose for Jason.

“He’s just mad his girlfriend kicked him out.” Dick teases, swiping through the fridge.

Tim snorts from the doorway, “Me too. He’s a lot more depressing on his own.”

Jason kept his head down as he blindly reached for the spoon in his cereal and chucked it at Tim’s head.

Tim catches it without thought, continuing, “A lot more irritable, at least. Why isn’t she here?”

“She’s gotta work.” Dick says, scanning through the pantry.

Damian peeps his head up from his project. “But Todd has a rather large supply of less than legally obtained money, does he not?”

“Yeah, but she said she wants to pay her own rent, I think.” Dicks hums, finally giving up on his quest for a snack.

Damian pauses.

“So she wants to live in a tiny apartment?” He asks, a mixture of confused and horrified.

“Watch your mouth.” Jason mumbles.

“It was a genuine question!” Damian protests, face screwed up.

Jason finally lifts his head up, turning to his little brother with a raised brows. “And I’m genuinely going to break your nose.”

It’s an empty threat, maybe. But it was enough to shut Damian up anyways. Jason turns back to his cereal and swishes the bowl around.

Dick rests his arms on the counter across from Jason and speaks lowly. “You know, it is just a few days. She’s coming back.”

“Yeah, whatever.” Jason was never one for showing his feelings—let alone talking about them.

He misses you, plain and simple. Dick could see that much clearly, though the longing looked unfamiliar on Jason.

Bruce lingers in the hallway, just past the island, listening.

He’ll admit (to himself) that he’s worried about Jason. It’s been three days and Jason has yet to show a crack in this demeanor. And while it’s not uncommon for him to stow himself away, there is something quite wrong with the way he hasn’t countered his brother’s jabs at him or teased them.

And while he could do without the blatant threats, he’s proud to hear his son defending his girlfriend, even over trivial things. It’s one of the few moments where he feels like he did right by him as a father.

And now here’s his son, caring about someone else more than he cares about himself. Someone who’s a good person, no less. It had been your idea to trick Jason into staying at the manor, you were scared that he would push his body past its limit when you couldn’t do anything to help.

Bruce knew you didn’t feel great about basically banishing him for the week but he could see that you just wanted what was best for Jason. He could see it so clearly. Maybe Bruce could never have been a perfect father, could never have given his son everything he needed despite having more money than he could ever use. Maybe he couldn’t help him, even now.

But you could.

Bruce peers around the corner, leaning up against the doorframe.

He watches Damian give up on carving at his block and start into the leg of the table.

He watches the bickering that broke out after Tim grab the last glazed donut, which was apparently the only thing Dick could possibly fathom eating.

And he watches Jason.

As Jason’s phone lights up on the counter next to him. He glances down at it with a frown before his face absolutely lights up.

He scrambles to pick the phone up and starts typing away. A quiet action that catches the attention of all of his brothers.

He types and types, waits for ten seconds for a response and types and types again—smile on his face.

The Waynes didn’t need to be the greatest detectives in the world to know who he was texting.

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chrollohearttags · 5 months

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the baby trapper | armin artlert

armin wants to make sure you don’t ever leave him. Even if he has to resort to desperate measures

content + themes: porn w/ a little plot, toxic armin making his triumphant return, baby trapping (new to writing this so forgive me if it doesn’t sound right), slight yandere vibes (?) missionary, rough sex, daddy kink, breeding (dk what it is with this man and breeding 😫), unprotected sex, he’s so terrible but he’s so sexy

wc: 1.7K

📝: trying to get my steam back a little and I also couldn’t stop thinking about @levisbaldheadedwh0re and his five baby mamas 😭😭 I’d like to think this is how his ass got them.

── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ.─── ── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.

you’d told yourself no..you’d said it time and again that you were done. That this would be the very last time you’d see him..that he didn’t deserve you. All of which were false except the latter. Because somewhere in the back of your consciousness, you knew…you knew it’d always be this way. A tumultuous, repetitive cycle of breaking up and making up even harder. Telling him you hated his guts only got him to be in yours hours later; saying how sorry he was and you’d always forgive him without pause. But this time, he couldn’t be certain…the risk of you actually following through on your promise was far too great. You made it abundantly clear that if he didn’t get his shit together, you were breaking up with him. And to take things a step further, you were moving out of this city and leaving his ass behind entirely. The prospect of you moving onto bigger and better things..new job that paid amicably, an apartment on a nicer side of town than where you currently were and of course, a better man. You had every intention of doing so too. That was until…

“Keep fucking me!…just like that. Right there..”

“Right there, baby? That’s your spot, ain’t it?..squeezing me so fucking tight—“

until you made the rather ignorant choice to make one last visit to the toxic, selfish man known as Armin Artlert. Giving your final plea of sorts; hoping that he’d beg your forgiveness and vow to be a better boyfriend. Because although he wasn’t the best fit for you in the slightest, there was still some semblance of love there. A part of you cared so deeply and didn’t want to let him go. But the truth was, that was pure, unadulterated lust! The connection you felt for him was nothing more than an attachment to his sex..the way he fucked you was incomprobable. Hadn’t met a man who could make you feel the way he did physically. Despite causing you pain in every other area..regardless, you looked past it once he got you out of your clothes and on his mattress, practically breaking the bed frame trying to put you through it.

“Arminnn!….oh my gosh..”

coiling both your wrists and ankles into his grasp, he’d keep you in place, pounding into that core with consistent strokes. Each one going deeper and deeper..drumming out loud whimpers and arousal all the same. A sheath of your juices were leaking onto the sheets, along with staining his cock. He didn’t care..he desired more. Almost as if he were addicted to it. You were already overstimulated; afraid that you couldn’t take another orgasm. All of this came only after he had eaten your pussy to the point of tears. Yet, here he was..determined to get more than his fill. Those blonde locks plastered to his forehead due to the pouring sweat trickling down his body. He always got this way when he was inside of you. The only time he’d give you his all; completely devoted to ensuring that you received the ultimate pleasures. Trembling and shaking, (y/n) gazed into those icy colored eyes, each of which were teeming with lust for you as he finally faltered his speed a little. Those arms..each toned and laced with detailed tattoos stood at your side like that of pillars. “Yes, baby? Something on your mind?”

at the moment, it was completely blank. Your brain dumbed and fucked out by his unrelenting resolve. Not to prove he would treat you right but to ensure that you didn’t go elsewhere. That even if you decided to get in that car tomorrow, drive miles away and never look back, he’d be forever imprinted in your memory..

“I-I can’t..no more, baby. Please…oh my gosh.”

however, that wasn’t the only way that Armin was planning to leave his mark on you. Because little did you know, he had devised a plan to ensure that the two of you would be bound for a lifetime. Whether you wanted to do so or not..

“No more? Oh, sweetheart..I know you can give me so much more than that..” his voice mirroring that of a very nefarious villain. Even patting your cheek and sliding a thumb between your lips for a small semblance of comfort. You looked so cute and utterly pathetic. So much so the sight made him twitch whilst buried to your hilt. That swollen cock head pressing directly against the entrance of your womb. He hadn’t been entirely honest when he invited you over for what he called “one last talk.”..hell, he had no intentions at all of sitting down and discussing the state of your relationship, what he could do to resolve it or how to be a better man. His one and true objective was to get you pregnant! He wanted you to be with his child, so that no matter where you strayed, you’d be reminded of him. He’d constantly tell you how he wanted you to have his baby and that you’d look so pretty carrying it. But you couldn’t in good faith raise a child with someone as irresponsible as Armin! His employment was constantly fleeting, he lacked all the skills required to care for another human being and you didn’t want that risk. But you truly had no choice..no choice but to lie there and take every inch of him as your beautiful brown eyes rolled to the back of your skull. As that appendage left an imprint in the pit of your belly, kissing the inner corner of that cervix. Your legs flailing midair and your toes curling to the max. He wanted to keep you like this forever..admire and treasure his most precious possession..

“I mean..I bet if I do this..” suddenly, you’d feel that swelling tension in your loins deepening when he rubbed your clit with his free thumb. “No wait!—“ “..you’ll come so hard, I won’t even be able to stay inside of you.” His voice is so condescending but soothing in a way. He gave you sweet nothings with the most sour of intentions. Knowing that he wasn’t going to allow you to leave here tonight without every last drop of his seed in your womb. Until he saw the lines on that test indicating a positive result. He needed it..he needed you so fucking badly!

“So that’s why I want you to take it…take all this fucking dick, sweetheart. You’re such a good girl..the only one who can get all of my nut. So do it..take it just like you did the other ones.”

it was then that those vigorous thrusts would resume. Even harder than before and he didn’t care that he had now freed your hands and you were utilizing them as a means to slow him down. He’d merely put them right back where they started. “If you can’t keep your hands to yourself, beautiful. I guess I’ll just have to hold them again.” Meanwhile, he’d release another maniacal laugh and shove his tongue between your lips; swirling it around your own until you were whimpering into his mouth. He had maximized his speed and was rutting those hips until you felt him to the hilt. That tight cunt made even more constricted by his previous loads that had been sloshing around. Throbbing and leaking as he thrashed you around. His thick girth and long length fill every sector of you. He had full dominion over this body and wasn’t letting go!

“Are you gonna do as I asked, baby? You’ll do whatever I want, right?..”

“Y-yes, daddy! Fuck meeee..”

“And you’re not going any fucking where, isn’t that right?..”

“No…oh my gosh, just don’t stop.”

your answer seemed to satisfy his ego well enough and that was all he needed to persist. Smirking down and rewarding you with another kiss, Armin gently stroked the side of your face before leaning back up.

“That’s right, baby. Get used to calling me daddy..because I want to get you pregnant. Fill that pretty pussy up..you ready?” You’d vehemently nod with tears in your eyes. Begging for him to do so..to make you his forever. With only a couple more strokes, he’d take an inch or so out and for his final thrusts, slow down.. “..c’mon, beg me. Lemme hear you say that shit. Tell me you want my babies..tell me you want me to get you pregnant.” Leaving you no option than to do so and truth be told…

“Come in me, daddy! Please..give it to me..”

“There we go…now hold still..”

you wouldn’t want it any other way! Finally, he’d come to a halt and you’d feel that earlier throbbing increased tenfold. All that mounting tension of being between those tight walls had finally caught up and he couldn't hold or pull out. “Ah—haaa..shit, coming!”

pulling you into his chest, Armin would empty every last remnant of his cum into your womb, filling your stomach with every ounce, joining the other two that had followed before. You were stuffed to the brim; overflowing with the warm, white substance by the time he finished. Those strings of silky fluid didn’t come without a chorus of empty ‘I love you’s’ and tearful cries. He made you linger on every word. Hold on to hope that he meant what he spoke. But even if there wasn’t a hint of truth in his statement..

“Thank you, sweetheart…for letting me fill you up..look at that. Gonna look so pretty with my baby..I love you.”

it was too late. You were already trapped inside of his web!

8K notes · View notes

pucksandpower · 5 days

Text

Made with Love

Charles Leclerc x amateur baker!Reader

Summary: in which Charles would rather risk the entire paddock getting food poisoning (again) than break your heart by telling you that your baking is horrible

You hum to yourself as you pull a tray of freshly baked cupcakes out of the oven. The sweet, chocolaty aroma fills Charles’ kitchen, making your mouth water.

This batch is sure to be perfect! You’ve been practicing your baking skills for months now, determined to get it just right.

Charles wanders into the kitchen, drawn by the scent. “Mmm, something smells good in here!”

He peers over your shoulder at the tray of cupcakes. They’re a bit misshapen, with cracked tops that deflated the second they were taken out of the oven. The frosting is glopped on unevenly.

To you, they look absolutely mouthwatering. To Charles, they look … well, he loves you too much to say.

“Try one!” You urge, holding out a cupcake. Charles flashes you a hesitant smile before taking it. He peels back the liner and takes a bite. His eyes widen and he forces himself to chew and swallow.

“Well? How is it?” You ask eagerly.

Charles clears his throat. “It’s, uh, it’s great. Your best batch yet,” he lies. In truth, it’s dry and dense, with a strange bitter aftertaste. But the delight on your face makes the fib worth it.

You throw your arms around him in a hug. “Yay! I can’t wait to share them with the team this weekend.”

Charles’ stomach drops. The thought of the entire paddock pretending to enjoy your baking makes him cringe internally. But he plasters on a smile. “What a nice idea! I’m sure they’ll love them.”

The two of you arrive at the circuit and you can barely contain your excitement as you carry a large container of cupcakes into the paddock. Charles trails behind you, backpack slung over one shoulder, his other arm wrapped around your waist. He presses a quick kiss to your temple before you flit off to distribute your baked goods.

You first approach Max Verstappen, holding out a cupcake with rainbow sprinkles. “Here Max, have one!”

Max eyes the treat dubiously but accepts it with a polite smile. “Thanks Y/N, that’s really nice of you.”

You beam and turn to Charles, missing the look of apprehension on Max’s face. Charles catches Max’s eye and draws a finger across his throat in warning. Max’s eyes widen but he nods in understanding. Charles won’t let anything ruin your mood today.

You make your way through the paddock, handing cupcakes to mechanics, engineers, PR reps, reporters, team principals, and drivers. Charles hovers behind you, keeping a watchful eye on each recipient.

Daniel Ricciardo visibly gags on his first bite when you turn away. Charles glares and shakes his head sharply. Daniel rearranges his face into a smile and gives a thumbs up.

Lando Norris takes an overly large bite and Charles has to pound on his back as he chokes it down.

Esteban Ocon discreetly spits his cupcake into a napkin when you’re not looking. Charles lunges forward and grabs his arm, squeezing tightly until Esteban wheezes out “Delicious!”

You remain blissfully unaware of the chaos that falls over the paddock in your wake, oblivious to Charles’ desperate interventions. All you see are your friends and acquaintances enjoying your baking.

When you finally offer a cupcake to Charles, he takes it and eats the whole thing without hesitation. Because even if it tastes like sugary sawdust, the delight on your face makes it the best treat in the world.

“Wasn’t that fun?” You gush to Charles afterwards. “I can’t wait to try out a new recipe soon!”

Charles just kisses your frosting-smudged nose and says, “I can’t wait either, mon amour.” As long as you’re happy, he’ll choke down all the questionable cupcakes you offer. Because your smile is the only thing that matters.

***

The paddock is bustling with activity as you and Charles arrive for the next race weekend, yet another batch of fresh baked goods in hand. You’re eager to share your latest creations — classic chocolate chunk cookies. You spent hours carefully following the recipe, determined to get them just right.

As you make your rounds distributing cookies, the reactions are the usual mix of forced smiles and discreet spitting. Charles trails behind you, glaring at anyone who doesn’t immediately rave about how delicious they are. The drivers and mechanics quickly catch on, showering you with praise and shooting Charles grateful looks when he turns you away.

You finally offer a cookie to Graham, a mechanic from the Mercedes team. He takes it hesitantly, eyeing Charles standing behind you. But Graham is new to the paddock and unaware of the baked goods situation.

He takes a bite and immediately grimaces. “Ugh, these taste terrible!” He blurts out.

You gasp, stumbling back as if struck. Tears well up in your eyes. Charles is at your side in an instant, pulling you into a comforting hug. Over your shoulder, he shoots Graham a look of absolute rage.

Graham realizes his mistake too late, shame washing over his face. “I-I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean ...” he stammers. But you’re already pulling away from Charles and rushing off, sobbing.

Charles turns on Graham, eyes blazing. “How could you? All she ever wants to do is make others happy!” Graham cowers before him, other mechanics backing away nervously.

“I’m sorry, I wasn’t thinking,” Graham says miserably.

“Sorry isn’t good enough,” Charles snarls. “You stay away from her, you hear me?” Graham nods shakily. Satisfied the message is received, Charles races after you.

He finds you behind the garage, face buried in your hands. “Oh mon ange,” Charles murmurs, wrapping you in his arms. “Don’t listen to him, your cookies are perfect.”

You cling to Charles, sniffling. “I just wanted to do something nice for everyone. But I’m so horrible at baking!”

Charles tilts your chin up. “You listen to me. You have the biggest, kindest heart. It doesn’t matter if the cookies are a little, er, overdone. What matters is you put love into making them. Don’t let someone like Graham get you down.”

You smile tremulously. “Have I told you lately that you’re the best boyfriend ever?”

Charles grins. “Hmm, I don’t mind hearing it again.” Laughing through your tears, you tell him again, punctuating it with a kiss.

After ensuring you’re okay, Charles seeks out Graham. “I trust you’ll be more considerate going forward?” Graham nods meekly. “Good. But just so we’re clear, if you upset her again, you’ll be out of this paddock for good.”

The next day, the news breaks that Graham has been dismissed from the Mercedes team for “attitude issues.” You feel a bit guilty, hoping your cookies didn’t cause him to lose his job. But Charles seems strangely satisfied, so you don’t dwell on it.

From then on, Charles redoubles his efforts to protect your feelings whenever you provide baked goods. The paddock falls in line, fawning over your overly salty pretzels and dry banana bread.

The brightness of your smile makes it all worth it to Charles. Because keeping that joy and kindness shining in you is what matters most to him.

***

You step out of Charles’ Ferrari, the engine purring as he puts it in park. Taking his hand, you smile excitedly — today is another fan meetup organized by the team, and you can’t wait to connect with Charles’ supporters again.

“Are you ready, mon cœur?” Charles asks, squeezing your hand gently. His green eyes crinkle at the corners as he looks at you adoringly.

“Absolutely!” You chirp, patting the large picnic basket hanging off your arm. “I made lots of treats to share today!”

Charles grins and leans in to kiss your forehead. “I’m sure they will love everything you made, as always.”

You beam, bolstered by his encouragement as you both make your way to the event. The meetup is being held in a local park, with tents and tables set up amongst the lush green grass and towering trees. You spot a long line of fans waiting eagerly for Charles’ arrival. Most are dressed in the familiar rosso corsa of Ferrari, holding posters and memorabilia for him to sign.

“Charles! Charles!” They chant excitedly when they see him. You hang back happily, letting him have his moment with his dedicated supporters. Charles takes selfies, signs autographs, and chats animatedly in Italian, French, and English. The fans are thrilled to interact with their racing idol.

After some time, Charles waves you over. “I would like you all to meet someone very special to me,” he announces, wrapping an arm around you. The fans erupt into cheers and applause. “This is Y/N, my love.”

You blush at the attention but manage to give a little wave. “Hi everyone! I’m so happy to be here today.”

Charles addresses the crowd again. “As some of you know, Y/N loves to bake and has brought some special treats to share with you all today.”

This is met with more enthusiastic cheers. Though none of them particularly enjoy your baked goods, the fans appreciate the effort and know Charles likes to reward them for humoring you.

You open up your large picnic basket, beaming with pride. “I made my favorite oatmeal raisin cookies, some lemon squares, and my famous rocky road fudge!”

The fans try not to visibly cringe, lining up politely with plates held out. You happily distribute your overly dry, burnt cookies and gooey, cloying fudge. The lemon squares are mushy and saccharine. But the fans accept it all with smiles and encouragement.

“Mmm, delicious!” One teenage girl forces out through a mouthful of your fudge.

An older man gives you a thumbs up as he chokes down a cookie, eyes watering. “So good!”

You beam, pleased that they enjoy your baking so much. As you chat with each person, you don’t notice Charles discreetly handing out autographed photos, caps, and other prized memorabilia to reward the fans for their efforts.

After you’ve handed out all your baked goods, Charles suggests a stroll through the park gardens. As you walk hand-in-hand admiring the flowers, he says softly, “You have such a big heart, Y/N. The way you care so much about connecting with the fans means the world to me.”

You squeeze his hand gratefully. “It’s the least I can do — they support you in everything, so I want to support them too.”

Charles stops and turns to you, his expression tender. “You are amazing, truly. I’m the luckiest man in the world.” He leans in and kisses you sweetly. Your heart flutters just like the first time your lips met.

When you return from your walk, the event is winding down. You say goodbye to the fans, who thank you profusely for the treats and making their day so special. You tell them you can’t wait to bake for them again soon!

After the last fan leaves, it’s just you and Charles. The late afternoon sun casts golden light on the empty picnic tables.

“Did you have fun, mon amour?” Charles asks, caressing your cheek.

“The best time!” You say enthusiastically. “I just love baking for your wonderful fans and seeing how it makes them smile.”

Charles’ eyes are full of love. He kisses the top of your head. “As long as it makes you happy, that’s all that matters to me.”

You snuggle into his chest happily. “Have I told you lately how much I love you?”

“I don’t think so,” Charles teases. “Why don’t you remind me again?”

You grin up at him. “I’ll tell you over dinner … I have a new donut recipe I want to try out.”

Charles fights down a grimace as he reminds himself that your love is more than worth suffering through another dreadful dessert. “I can’t wait!”

***

“Mate, you have to stop her before she poisons someone,” Max whispers urgently to Charles as you step out of the room.

Charles furrows his brow. “What are you talking about?”

“Your girlfriend. Her baking. It’s … it’s just terrible. I’m sorry, but it has to be said.”

Charles lets out a dismissive chuckle. “Oh come on, it’s not that bad.”

“Not that bad?” Max raises his eyebrows incredulously. “I chipped a tooth on her brownie last week!”

Charles rubs the back of his neck awkwardly as he avoids making eye contact.

“Look, I get that you don’t want to upset her,” Max continues, his voice lowering conspiratorially. “But we can’t keep lying and pretending it’s good! One of these days, someone is going to end up in the hospital.”

Charles sighs deeply, running a hand through his tousled hair. “What do you want me to do? If I tell her the truth, she’ll be devastated.”

You return to the room then, a bright smile on your face as you carry a plate of freshly baked apple tarts. “Who wants one?”

Max cringes almost imperceptibly while Charles shoots him a warning look. “They look great, ma belle!” He says with forced enthusiasm, taking one and bringing it to his lips.

The apple filling is gelatinous and tastes faintly of soap. Charles forces himself to swallow it with a strained smile. Max quickly declines when you offer him one.

Later that evening, Charles finds Max alone outside his apartment building. “I need your help,” he admits defeatedly.

Max looks at him expectantly.

“With Y/N’s baking … how do I get her to stop without completely crushing her?”

His friend contemplates this for a moment. “Well … you could try convincing her to take up a new hobby instead?”

Charles shakes his head. “I’ve suggested that before, but she’s dead set on baking. It’s her biggest passion.”

“Okay, then you’ll have to take a different approach.” Max strokes his chin thoughtfully. “What if … you told her a bunch of us were going vegan or something, so she couldn’t bake for us anymore?”

Charles raises an eyebrow at the suggestion, but then slowly nods. “You know, that could actually work …”

The next day, you eagerly bring a fresh batch of blueberry muffins to the paddock to share with everyone. Charles takes a deep breath before pulling you aside gently.

“Hey, can I talk to you about something?” He starts, trying to keep his expression neutral.

You blink up at him curiously. “Of course. What’s up?”

“Well …” He clears his throat. “I was talking to the guys and … Lewis has actually convinced a bunch of them to go vegan. Lando, Max …”

He lists off a dozen more names, watching as realization dawns on your face. Your shoulders slump slightly.

“Oh … I see.” You glance down at the muffins in your hands. “I guess that means I can’t really bake for them anymore.”

Charles feels a pang of guilt at the disappointment in your eyes. But then, your expression brightens again.

“I’ll just have to start baking vegan treats instead!” You declare happily. “This is so exciting, I’ve been wanting to experiment with more plant-based ingredients!”

Charles’s shoulders tense as the plan epically backfires. Of course you’d take this as an opportunity to bake even more.

Over the next few weeks, you gleefully embrace the vegan baking lifestyle. Charles has to smother his laughter when Max nearly chokes biting into one of your “chewy” vegan brownies. Lando spits out a mouthful of your gritty vegan chocolate cake when you’re not looking.

You, however, remain blissfully unaware of how dreadful your creations are. No matter how many hints Charles tries to drop, the problem only seems to be getting worse.

One evening, you set a plate of fresh-from-the-oven vegan peanut butter cookies on the coffee table, plopping down on the couch next to Charles with a proud grin.

“Try one!” You insist, picking a cookie up and holding it in front of his lips.

Charles hesitates for just a second too long. Your face falls and he scrambles to take a bite, barely suppressing a wince as he chews on what feels like a solid lump of chalk mixed with peanut shavings. He forces himself to swallow it down with an enthusiastic grin.

“Wow, these are incredible!” He lies through his teeth. “You’ve really outdone yourself this time.”

You perk up immediately, the dejected look vanishing. “You really think so? I tried a new recipe I found online.”

“Definitely a winner,” Charles affirms, trying his best to sound convincing. “We should bring some to the paddock for everyone to try.”

Your eyes light up at the suggestion and guilt twists in Charles’s gut. The last thing he wants is for the other drivers to have to suffer through these … confections. But he could never be the one to shatter your baking dreams.

The next day at the track, you eagerly pass around the plate of peanut butter hockey pucks to the drivers and crew. Charles discreetly pulls Max aside with a pained look.

“Please, I’m begging you …” he murmurs under his breath. “Just smile and nod, no matter how bad they are.”

Max grimaces as he takes an experimental bite of one of the cookies, his expression doing little to mask his revulsion. But he meets Charles’s pleading gaze and forces out a strangled, “Mmm … great!”

One by one, the others follow suit — fake smiles and strained praises as they choke down your baked atrocities. You remain obliviously pleased, unaware of their suffering.

Over the next few weeks, the vegan baking experiments only seem to get worse and worse. The paddock has become a silent circle of culinary martyrs — all sworn to an unspoken code to preserve your feelings at all costs.

You proudly present a tray of charcoal-colored muffins that leave the entire garage coughing from the plume of burnt flour. “Tried a new recipe for dark chocolate avocado muffins!” You explain brightly.

“Can’t wait to dig in,” Lando is close to crying, his eyes already watering.

Charles has to bite back a laugh as Max takes a heroic bite, barely managing to keep it together. He pats the Dutchman on the back firmly as the poor guy fights back a gag reflex.

“Two more words about her baking and you’ll be racing with three wheels next season,” he warns Carlos in a low mutter after witnessing the Spaniard nearly vomit up a slice of your “moist” vegan zucchini bread.

The sheer willpower it takes for the entire crew to maintain the facade is almost impressive. Technique and strategy meetings have now become immense displays of unspoken fortitude — everyone driven by the simple goal of not letting you catch on that your baked goods are, in fact, completely inedible.

Charles has started bringing backup protein bars and shakes to every race just to make sure nobody accidentally lapses into baked good-induced delirium.

He really has no idea how much longer this can possibly be sustained. But he also has no idea how to safely extract the situation without demolishing your passion and self-confidence in the process.

For now, his main objective is to ensure your bright smile and cheerfulness remain unchanged — no matter how many mouths he has to personally silence to make that happen.

At the end of the day, having you by his side, radiating that infectious joy and following your heart’s desire, is worth enduring all the subpar vegan muffins in the world.

He’ll take a bite of your latest abomination with an adoring grin, because that’s what partners who truly love each other do — they support each other through the good, the bad, and the burnt-to-a-crisp.

***

It’s the start of a new season, and Charles has been racking his brain for a solution to the ongoing baking saga. As much as he loves indulging your passion, the charade is becoming increasingly difficult to maintain. The entire paddock is at their wits’ end trying to choke down your vegan torture devices week after week.

That’s when he has an idea — one he hopes will be a win-win for everyone involved.

“Surprise!” He says with an excited grin, presenting you with the envelopes. “I got us signed up for this baking course. I thought it could be fun for us to take some classes together!”

You’re beaming as you throw your arms around his neck. “That’s such a thoughtful idea! I would love nothing more.”

Of course, Charles being Charles is hardly fully forthright about his motivations. “To be honest, I’m the one who really needs the help,” he fibs sheepishly. “We all know I’m a disaster in the kitchen. But with your talents guiding me, maybe there’s hope!”

Over the next few weeks, you and Charles diligently show up for your baking classes. The instructor walks you through fundamentals like properly measuring ingredients, controlling oven temperatures, and mastering technical skills. Slowly but surely, your creations start emerging looking (and smelling) better and better.

One evening, you return home with a fresh tray of beautifully baked chocolate chip cookies — the first delicacy you’ve felt confident enough to bake since the lessons. You present them to Charles with bated breath.

He takes one tentative bite, his eyes widening in surprise. These are actually ... edible! More than edible — they are legitimately delicious! The dough-to-chip ratio is perfect, the texture is chewy but not dry or crumbly. He quickly stuffs two more into his mouth with an appreciative moan.

“Ma belle … these are incredible!” He gasps out between bites.

You clap your hands over your mouth, eyes shining with glee. “Oh my gosh, you really think so? I was so nervous!”

“Are you kidding? I could eat this entire tray all by myself!”

The two of you dissolve into celebratory laughter and hugs, the sweet taste of success quite literally on your tongues.

“I think it’s time for the real taste test,” you declare one day, rolling up your sleeves as you start prepping an array of fresh baked goods. “We’re taking these bad boys to the paddock!”

The next race weekend, you stride in carrying bakery boxes of your fresh chocolate chip cookies as well as some decadent fudge brownies.

“Fresh out of the oven!” You announce proudly, setting them down with a bright grin. “Who’s hungry?”

For a long beat, nobody moves. The drivers exchange wary glances, their self-preservation instincts kicking in as they recall the many baking debacles of the past. Lando bravely reaches for a brownie first, his face scrunched up preemptively-

Only to blink in surprise as the rich, fudgy flavor hits his taste buds. His eyes widen comically as he takes another bite. “Bloody hell ... this is actually good!”

The words seem to shatter the suspended tension. Soon the entire paddock is swarming the trays, devouring the fresh baked goods with delight. Charles watches on in disbelief, his own taste buds experiencing flavors he didn’t even know were possible from your former creations.

He sees Max take a bite of one of the cookies, freezing in place as his eyes slip closed with an expression of pure bliss. When they open again, Charles is alarmed to see they’re glistening with unshed tears.

The Dutchman wordlessly holds up the cookie, gazing at Charles reverently as a lone tear trails down his cheek. Then, to everyone’s astonishment, he brings the baked good to his lips and takes another sensual bite, savoring it like it’s the first good thing he’s ever tasted.

From then on, it’s like a switch has been flipped. The paddock that once dreaded your baking now seemingly can’t get enough of it. Every race weekend, they await your fresh creations with unrestrained enthusiasm, like kids on a sugar bender.

Charles has lost count of how many times he’s caught drivers and crew sneaking off to wherever you’re prepping the latest batch, nostrils flaring as they try to scout out that heavenly aroma.

It’s gotten to the point where Max’s performance coach has had to implement strict rules about his treat consumption to prevent indulgences from derailing his season.

“Easy there, Max!” Rupert calls in a booming tone, swooping in to physically restrain the Dutchman as he makes a mad dash toward where you’re unpacking that week’s fresh delivery. “You know you have a limit on those.”

Max strains against his performance coach’s grip, eyes zeroing in on the platter of goodies being unloaded with unrestrained longing. “I don’t care, she brought triple chocolate cookie dough brownies this time! Let me go!”

Rupert grunts in exertion, struggling to keep his driver in check. “This is for your own good! Think of your diet!”

“That’s irrelevant!” Max practically snarls, pupils blown wide like an addict suffering from withdrawals. “Do you have any idea how long I waited to have real baked goods again?”

It’s a battle of wills and metabolism that quickly becomes a weekly sight. Charles can’t help but chuckle fondly as he watches Max and Rupert’s familiar tug-of-war happen like clockwork every Sunday.

As much as he’d love to intervene, he knows better than to come between Max and your heavenly baked creations. He’s just thrilled that this baking journey took such a delicious turn — both for your invigorated culinary passion and for the safety of everyone’s tastebuds.

Honestly, he’ll take the sight of a feverish Max drooling over freshly baked goods any day over having to choke down burnt muffins and brittle biscuits. This is the sweet upgrade everyone had been dreaming about.

The true recipe for happiness was sticking by each other’s side through all those halfbaked stumbles.

1K notes · View notes

delirious-donna · 1 month

Text

Praise [Nanami Kento]

an: this is an old fic of mine which got slapped with a flag the first time around. I’ve reworked it and I like it far better now and I hope you will too.

premise: Kento finds it so adorable when you look at him with those big, shiny doe eyes. Has he noticed that you do it more when he sings your praises? Oh yes, and he plans to make you purr for him.

pairing: Nanami Kento x female reader

warnings: praise kink, office sex, possibility of being caught, boss/subordinate dynamic, sloppy blowjob, cum swallowing, Kento being a bit of a tease but with good intentions

Masterlist

It was becoming increasingly impossible to ignore the way you squeezed past him in the break room. The lilt of faintly murmured apologies and downcast eyes that refused to meet his own.

Nanami watched you keenly whilst you poured your coffee and sprinkled in packet after packet of sweetener. Leaning against the far wall with his coffee mug dutifully hiding the smile that rose to his lips. Ever the sweet tooth.

His board of directors would shudder in their golf carts if they knew he mingled with his subordinates on a daily basis rather than locking himself within an ivory tower. It was an argument he was accustomed to, and one that he assured anyone that asked was worth the risk. Workers who knew the big boss outside of his office were more likely to be productive. He had reams of research tucked away, statistics on the positive impact on retention rates and the upward trends on quality assurance.

It was all a ruse, and a convincing one at that. Kento could recite KPIs at the drop of a hat until those scrutinising eyes turned vacant and disengaged. All for you. His every effort to satisfy the worry that stalked your every breath it seemed at times. For you see, you meant the world to Nanami Kento and he to you, but he was also your boss and that caused problems.

A secret relationship, one that might be frowned upon if he weren’t the CEO of the company, but it was at your continued insistence. You wanted to be taken seriously for your contribution to the company and he respected that decision. The board answered to him at the end of the day, he held a majority share in the organisation he had built from the ground up, but he understood your desire to find your own worth rather than be tied to his side.

You were a dedicated worker, a real asset to the executive team he managed personally and from the moment he met you, he knew he had to have you. Never before had he felt compelled to pursue something so risqué. Most would call him risk averse, what they didn’t know would likely make their jaws drop.

Whilst his gut instinct was immediate, the road to where you were now was not so quick. It had taken time and a boatload of patience. A sensual dance of flirtation and seduction which had severely tested his restraint, but after months of witty remarks and sexual tension thick enough to choke a horse, you were finally his.

Quite frankly he hadn’t known he had it in him. It was the first time he had spent as much time and energy on pursuing anyone, but the reward had been more than worth it. Only recently, he asked you to move in with him and the spacious penthouse no longer felt too large and lonesome. The bachelor life was not meant for him. It was an ill-fitting suit and he gladly welcomed the tailored fit of being your adoring partner and lover.

It was tainted by the fact that you shared the same bed, woke tangled in each other’s arms each morning but never arrived to work together. The same was true at the end of the day, though Kento tended to spend more hours in the office for obvious reasons. He understood your reservations, it was hard for a woman to be taken seriously at this level and although he operated with a policy of complete gender equality, there were still those old-school fuckers that looked down on women.

He’d assured you he wouldn’t hesitate to fire anyone who even uttered a derogatory word regarding your relationship but you begged him to keep it quiet for now. Unfortunately for him, he was wrapped tightly around your finger and so, despite his desire to the contrary, he bowed to your wishes.

Only thought of the day where he could stand proudly by your side without fear of repercussion in your eyes kept him going. Wheedling out the bad seeds covertly in the background to lay the groundwork for the years to come and how prosperous and happy you both could be if given the chance to flourish freely.

Nanami was a good man, at least he hoped he was.

However, his gaze was anything but at this moment. He felt the surge of predatory intent wash through him as he took in your grey skirt and the matching jacket that pinched your waist in the way he liked most. The knowledge of those delectable thigh highs that concealed your bare legs ran rampant, and he idly cursed that he wasn’t pressing you up against the counter and fucking you like he wanted to do. To hell with coffee and boring Monday meetings.

No, he had control and an idea.

“See you in ten,” he said on his way out the door, flashing a quick wink in your direction and watching your jaw drop in response.

The boardroom was noisy as everyone took their seats. Conversation flowed but you couldn’t pay attention, not when you knew that Kento was up to something. That faint crocodile smile he had offered not long ago lingered in your memory and you straightened deliberately in your chair, uncomfortable for the first time in many months.

He sat at the head of the table, fingers steepled whilst he studied the open planner set before him. Strands of blonde hair fell into his face, and the annoying part of you that wanted to sweep it back reared its head. As if he could sense your thoughts, he parted his hands and fixed his hair without glancing at you.

The sooner this meeting was over, the better. You had a project in need of your attention, and literally any excuse not to be caught feeling frisky in the office. A prospect that was growing exceedingly harder given the unknown meaning behind that sly little wink in the break room.

The proceedings started as normal, the boring bullshit of every corporate meeting and then it happened.

“Excellent work on the Fushiguro account. You exceeded expectations, well done.” Nanami announced out of the blue. His warm hazel eyes fixed you in place whilst your colleagues eagerly added to the sentiment, some genuine and some because they were simpering fools.

You found yourself staring at him—at your boss—with cheeks that felt hot enough to fry eggs and wide eyes blinking much too rapidly. Raw pride swelled in your chest along with a squirm in your lower half and a pleasant sensation twisting in your gut.

“Thank you, sir.”

Perhaps it could be put down to a one-off but not when the offers of praise started to come thick and fast. He made it seem so natural as if he were paying it no more attention than a good boss should do and he certainly shared the successes out amongst your colleagues, but this was something else—you knew it.

Could he sense that your thighs were pressed tightly together beneath the opulent table? Did he hear the hitch of your breath every time he mentioned your name? How about the heat spreading across the back of your neck or the bead of sweat that trickled down your spine? Could he smell your arousal?

Goddamn his fiendish ways. Kento always could read you like a book, and not just any book plucked from the shelf. You were a well-thumbed and beloved story that he would read fondly over and over, each time finding new things to add to the piles of reasons for loving you.

You were losing your mind. Furiously beating your pen against the still empty pad you’d brought with you for note taking. You crossed and uncrossed your legs for the hundredth time, desperately wanting to excuse yourself for the solitude of the bathroom. A splash of water to your face was long overdue.

So lost in the abundance of praise being heaped on you, you didn’t hear the call of dismissal. It wasn’t until the scrapping of chairs met your ears did you realise it was time to leave and you were ready to rocket your right out of the room as soon as the door opened.

“May I have a moment of your time?” Nanami asked you nonchalantly. Your knees almost buckled at the idea of being alone here with him.

Only once the last person left and the door thudded shut did you dare to look at him. Dared to bear witness to the blonde God that was leaning back in his chair—observing you.

“Is everything alright? You look… flushed.”

Your tongue stuck to the roof of your mouth as you chewed over your words. “I’m perfectly fine. I appreciate the concern.”

“Hm. That you are, sweetheart. So very fine…” he enthused, reclining back in his executive chair to rake your standing figure with a lustful eye. Oh, he wasn’t playing fair in the slightest and somehow that made everything far worse.

Kento admired you from the top of your head right down to your shuffling toes and back again. The flash of his pink tongue wetting his lips did nothing but force a fierce shudder down the length of your spine. You knew where this was going, part terrified and part excited beyond belief. In the sanctity of your home, you would have already pounced.

“Ken—”

“I can smell your arousal, darling.”

Quick as a flash, he was leaning forward in his seat and wrapping both hands around your wrists to tug you towards him. You gasped aloud at his downright filthy accusation and the way he was manhandling you to stand in front of him. The edge of the desk hit against the backs of your thighs and Kento used your moment of imbalance to seat your butt against the edge of the glass top.

He rolled his chair closer, a thick muscled thigh pressed between your legs and forced the tight hold of your skirt to ride up to accommodate his presence there. Nanami groaned at the sight of your lace-detailed stocking tops, a calloused finger swiped across his mouth as if deciding what to do next.

“Have you noticed how… receptive you become when I praise you? Or how your beautiful skin blooms when I tell you how clever you are?”

Kento brushed his thumb across your cheek, stroking your jaw and tilting your chin. His free hand fingered the lacy tops of your thigh highs, straddling the line where the garment met your bare skin and you fought down the moan in your throat. You were melting into a puddle, no more than an ice cream cone on a blazing summer day and longing to be licked up by the man before you.

“Such a brilliant mind inside that pretty head, I’m truly a lucky man,” he rasped, and you snapped.

Grabbing him by the knot of the tie at his throat, you pulled him to meet you halfway in a searing kiss. Damn it all to hell, you no longer cared that you were in the workplace or that the door wasn’t even locked, you needed him with a dizzying urgency that refused to be denied a moment longer.

The aroma of rich, bitter coffee and musky cologne filled your nose, it birthed a breathy sigh of equal parts comfort and desire. You tried to slide onto his lap, to anchor your knees on either side of his hips but he held you fixed on the table with two strong palms.

“My precious sweetheart needs to show me how good she can be. Think you can take care of a pressing matter of mine?” Kento’s gaze dropped to the obvious lift to his expensive dress slacks, and you caught his meaning immediately.

The idea of being praised more was all the encouragement you needed to bend at the waist and palm him through the heavy material. You could feel the outline of his straining cock, both your mouth and pussy drooled in anticipation of revealing the beast hiding beneath those layers.

You made quick work of his belt, unfastening the buckle deftly before freeing his button and dragging the zipper down. Nanami assisted in lifting his hips enough to shuffle his trousers down whilst your eager fingers hooked inside the waistband of his briefs and finally his leaking cock sprang out.

The velvet skin appeared agitated and angry, the tip flushed a deep pulsing purple and pearlescent precum oozed freely from his slit. You touched the silky liquid without grazing his skin yet he still twitched from watching you alone.

“Mm… gonna show me what you’ve got, sweetheart? Show me who the real boss is here?” He drawled almost lazily, and your breath hitched at the insinuation that you were the one in charge. That thought made your cunt clench and your stomach flutter.

You wrapped around his shaft, working the beads of moisture down his skin to make the pump of your fist more slick and comfortable. Kento watched you through hooded eyes, delving his hands through your lustrous hair and pulling it free from the clip holding it back. You were such a sinful sight; all flushed cheeks and heaving chest that strained the silky fabric of your blouse to the limit.

“Gods, you drive me crazy. Do you know how much I have to restrain myself when you’re around?”

Big, round doe eyes blinked up from where you knelt between his parted thighs. The surface of your irises were glossy like polished mirrors and saliva escaped your pouty lips before you’d even gotten close to taking him into your mouth.

He knew your tight little pussy would be throbbing in need, that lust covered your folds and tracked down your thighs, sticking to your skin and waiting to be licked clean by his tongue. He could smell it, practically taste it and he would, once you were finished.

“Kento…”

He nodded his head, giving you the permission he knew you were seeking to do what you both wanted. That first sensation from the heat of your mouth sent him crashing, head tilted to stare at the ceiling and strained the thick tendons in his neck.

You moaned around his girth, slobbering already as your overexcitement spurred you on. The ache in your pert clit was maddening, the clench of your thighs not enough to relieve the ache in the pit of your abdomen. The friction wasn’t nearly enough, you were desperate for more. What made it worse was the heavy, bitter taste of Kento’s cock. It made you salivate, but not only in your mouth. The underwear beneath your skirt would have to be trashed as completely ruined at this point.

“Fuck, that’s it. Taking me down your throat so well, so proud of you sweetheart,” he groaned whilst noticing your restless wriggling and knowing exactly what you wanted—what you needed. “Play with yourself, my love.”

You jumped at the instruction, eager not to waste a moment of time in complying with the request and grateful that your man was so in tune with your needs and not just his own. A hand slid beneath your skirt and rubbed erratically through the sodden cotton of your ruined underwear. Never had you fallen apart so quickly, never had your heart thundered so much that it might explode.

“I love seeing you like this. Let me hear you purr for me, kitten.”

Swallowing around his thick girth, your cheeks hollowed to increase the suction of your mouth and Kento’s head snapped down to your face with parted lips. The tip of his cock kissed the back of your throat but you didn’t stop, barely hesitated as he slid further down until you gagged and spluttered when you pulled off for air. It was only for a moment. You were too resolute in bringing this powerful man to his knees.

With a flickering tongue that pressed thickly against his heavy shaft, you tasted him thoroughly and let spit bubble at the sides of your mouth to coat your chin. Kento was fighting against the rise of his hips as he twisted a hand into your hair and gently guided your head up and down in the perfect bobbing motion.

He was close. Hell, you were closer.

Your forearm rested on his strong thigh, hand wrapped around the remaining inches of his shaft that refused to fit into your mouth and throat whilst the other hand dipped into your sopping hole.

Your cunt clenched around your slim fingers, and you could sob. You longed for something else, something more and you knew just what you wanted, but perhaps you weren’t going to get it.

“Sw—sweetheart… i’m gonna - oh fuck - swallow it like a good girl, please?” His plea was breathless and the nearest you had ever heard to a whimper. It was beautiful and empowering to know that he could be brought to heel by you.

The low flutter of your lashes along with a subtle nod and watery eyes were his sign of your acceptance. Kento allowed the pressure that was building to a crescendo to release like a riptide. He spilled his seed down your throat and filled your mouth as he pulled his hips back.

He was in awe at the sight of you licking your lips like the cat who got the cream. His chest heaved with every twitch of his dick, emptying himself against your pursed lips and smearing the remnants for you to lap up greedily. Kento smiled, lazy and content now that the ache of his balls had drained away. He was quick to haul you up and onto his lap with your surprised squeal causing him to chuckle.

“I love you, my beautiful, smart and funny girl,” he cooed into your ear, his large palms coasted over your jittery thighs and hooked between your legs just where you needed him the most.

“Now then, time for your reward…”

#delirious writes #nanami kento #nanami x reader #nanami kento x reader #nanami smut #nanami kento smut #kento smut #jjk x reader #jjk smut #jujutsu kaisen smut #jujutsu kaisen x reader

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microclown · 4 months

Text

I was rewatching s1e3 and something finally clicked for me..

Please forgive me if this seems obvious to you. It helps me to type out my thoughts, but I'm sure I'm just an idiot and no one else needs this explained to them, lol. That said - I was always slightly confused by the emotional weight of the holy water arc during the flashback sequence. Particularly I was confused by how angry Crowley got when Aziraphale referred to their relationship as fraternizing in the 1862 fight. I mean, "to associate or form a friendship with someone, especially when one is not supposed to" is exactly what they are doing, right? So why the 80 year breakup?

Crowley says he wants the holy water for if "it" all goes pear shaped. The phrasing is necessarily vague, and could mean lots of things. Since I know what he eventually uses it for, I was thinking about it in the context of Armageddon, or maybe more generally and vaguely about Crowley not always choosing to go along with Hell, and associating with Aziraphale. But there was not much reason for Crowley to already be thinking about Armageddon back then.

As we know from the full diary entry Neil posted, the timeline of the Edinburgh entry, and the cut bookshop opening scene, it seems like Crowley and Aziraphale were spending A LOT of time together by the 1800's. When Crowley is pulled back down to Hell in 1827, he learns that Hell is paying more attention to him than he'd previously thought. Crowley realizes at this point that spending so much time with Aziraphale is actively putting him in real danger. He recognizes that, and instead of breaking things off, or seeing Aziraphale less, he doubles down. If this relationship is dangerous, then he wants the tools to fight for it.

That's what I think I didn't get about the holy water request. It's not just general insurance, it's specifically insurance for if Hell finds out about him and Aziraphale. It's also a super vulnerable request because in making it, Crowley is openly acknowledging how important their relationship is to him. Aziraphale casually brings up the arrangement at the beginning of the conversation, and that's part of it, right? Because the whole basis of their relationship is the arrangement. It continues to be the pretense under which they meet, despite the relationship clearly having developed beyond that. And the arrangement, as Crowley proposed it in 537, is born out of convenience, and the assumption that Heaven and Hell would never notice anyway.

Crowley's request for insurance breaks that facade. He's acknowledging that it's not convenient, or safe, but he wants to do it anyway, despite the risk.

Aziraphale, on the other hand, is not ready for the screen to be taken away so abruptly. To make it worse, he assumes Crowley wants the holy water as an escape, rather than a weapon. Suddenly he is confronted with both the danger their association poses, and the idea that Crowley might choose to take his own life. He can't imagine the guilt of being directly responsible for the latter.

I also think the strength of his own emotional response to the thought of losing Crowley catches Aziraphale off guard. He hasn't admitted to himself how much he actually cares, and it scares him. Worrying about Heaven is more comfortable and familiar, so he falls back on that and switches to "If they knew I'd been... fraternizing!"

But bringing up the threat of Heaven reads to Crowley as Aziraphale saying "You may be willing to put yourself at risk for the sake of our relationship, but I am not." The word choice of "fraternizing" comes off as a dismissive and demeaning way to describe a relationship that Crowley just admitted he would risk his life for.

It's an unintentionally deep cut when Crowley is already at his most vulnerable, and so he lashes out. As far as we've seen, this is possibly the first time Crowley has truly lashed out at Aziraphale. So yeah, 80 year breakup makes sense!

And what makes this so much worse is what happens next. Crowley reaches out again in 1941 with a dramatic gesture (rescuing Aziraphale from the Nazis, saving his books). It's clear they've missed each other. They don't discuss the fight, but it's there subtextually. Aziraphale, tentatively and thrillingly, refers to them as friends, for the first time ever. He tells Crowley that he trusts him.

And then, that very same night their worst fears are confirmed. Just when they've finally reconciled a fight over the dangers of their relationship, and just when Aziraphale has finally admitted that it is not a relationship of convenience, but genuine friendship, they are exposed. Crowley is going to face punishment from Hell, explicitly for being Aziraphale's "trusted confident", and he doesn't have insurance. If Aziraphale's trick hadn't succeeded, Crowley would have had no way to protect himself.

idk it just makes me feel things ok

#good omens #ineffable husbands #aziraphale #crowley #aziracrow

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cherubfae · 2 months

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Hi 👋

I'm loving your work so far and had to follow for more!

I was wondering, if you're not busy, if you could do the scenario when the reader tells them i can hold the whole world in my hands and the other looks confused and the reader holds their face in their hands with the hazbin crew + striker and how'd they react to it?

If not, it's totally cool. I look forward to what you put out next! 😊

you're my whole world || hazbin/helluva boss x reader

"I can hold the entire world in my hands. Wanna see?"

tags: gn!reader, afab for vaggie, implied!masc reader for angel, fluff, cuteness, established relationships

Alastor

A crackle of radio feedback as his eye twitches when you reach for him, calms for a second when you cup his face. His clawed hands rest on top of yours. He's rather confused, how is this holding the--

"You're my whole world, Alastor~!" You grin up at him, lovingly.

The facade of a smile he always wears slips for only a second. But it's one second too long and you catch it. His eyebrows relax, lids drooping, cheeks pushing upwards and he beams at you softly. A genuine smile crossing his lips. He cups your face in return, puffing your cheeks like a fish and a muffled laugh track plays. Leaning his forehead against yours, he grins.

Softly, he whispers, "And you are mine, mon cour."

Lucifer

Immediately his eyes well up. He doesn't have the need to act all cool and collected when he's a total softie. He leans his cheek further into your palm, his eyelids fluttering shut allowing for a moment of respite. Tilting your chin upwards, he captures your lips in a gentle kiss.

"I love you more than anything. You are my life, sweetling, my galaxy. I would dismantle Heaven, Earth, and all of Hell to keep you and Charlie safe."

Charlie

The meeting with Heaven hadn't gone to plan and now, she's curled up like a little blanket burrito in her crimson comforter. She doesn't say anything when you announce that you can hold the whole world in your hands, but she's definitely curious in the way she immediately watches you with interest. She's confused when you cup her cheeks but soon gasps loudly in realization, eyes welling up. You always know just what to say when she's feeling blue.

"M-me? I'm your whole world? But you're my whole world, too!" Charlie grunts, breaking free of her blanket cocoon to cup your face in return. "Look! Now I can hold the world too~!"

Vaggie

She expected your reaction to be much worse. Vaggie finally admitted, albeit she was forced to tell, that she had been an angel this entire time. You hadn't been sure how to react and it was clear you were hurt by her secret and she respected that you needed time to process all of this new information. What she hadn't expected was you approaching her a few hours later, gently cupping her face and telling her that she was your entire world.

A valve breaks loose and Vaggie begins to cry. She wanted to tell you for so long! She really, really did, but she didn't know how! You hold her close, slipping down onto the floor with her letting her cry on your shoulder.

"I didn't want to keep this part of me a secret, but there was so much risk in people knowing-- if they would directly come for you, I just... I couldn't risk your safety if you knew what I truly was. I love you so much, I just wanted to keep us safe."

Husk

The glass he had been wiping down would've shattered on the ground had his tail not caught it. His wings instinctively fluff up, setting the cup on a rack with the rest of the clean, empty glasses.

"Didja have to get up there to tell me this?" He clears his throat deeply, gesturing wildly to ask what you were doing. You, currently perched on top of the bar counter on your knees cupping his face.

"Yeah!" You chirp with a grin. Husk sighs, grabbing you by the waist and hefting you down and off the countertop. He doesn't say a word when your legs wrap around his waist and your arms slide around his shoulders. His cold nose presses to your cheek and he chuckles softly, utterly happy and in love.

"You're a dork, huh, hun? But you're my dork." Husk purrs softly, pulling you in for a brief kiss.

Angel Dust

Owlishly, he stares at you. That confusion melts into a genuine smile and a soft chuckle. His third set of arms materializes, tugging you in by your hips while the other two wrap around your shoulders and waist respectively. Pressing his soft cheek to yours, he affectionately nuzzles you with a laugh.

"You're full of surprises, ain't ya, toots? Y-you're my everything, baby. My world. The one light in this whole damned darkness I call my life."

Vox

He was expecting something much different from you when you climbed into his lap, turning his attention away from his displayed monitors. Red eyes flickering, he's confused when you grasp both sides of his monitor screen. This is new...?? Vox's gaze widens as you finish your statement, chuckling deeply. Covering your hands in his, he places your hand to his chest where his dead heart would still be beating. You make him feel alive, no heartbeat and all.

"Fuck, baby, that's pretty cheesy. But I liked it." Vox grins, red dripping from the corners of his mouth. "C'mere, sweets. Wanna kiss ya."

Blitzø

Why do you have to say some of the cutest shit? Ugh, it makes his heart feel all weird and he's not sure how to react, but he does appreciate it nonetheless, especially with the two of you being alone. You know he's been working on his emotions, trying to do better. When he can't find the words to say, he nuzzles your palm softly and gives you a wobbly smile before harshly rubbing at his eyes.

"Th-thank you, ah, fuck.. Why am I crying? Must be a damn ninja chopping some fuckin' onions somewhere." He sniffles, deeply sighing. He grasps your hand in his, squeezing it softly. "I'm not sure if the world is a large enough example.. To, y'know, express my love or whatever.."

Loona

She's pretty taken aback by your statement, a soft blush staining her cheeks. Her tail gives a little wag and she smiles. Bending down to your height, she gives you a quick kiss on the cheek, her hand slipping into yours.

"You're such a sap, babe, but I love you too. You're my world as well. C'mon, let's see what kind of chaos Beel is having at her party tonight. Not every day I can show off how amazing my partner is."

Striker

Saying that he's surprised is an understatement. He recovers quickly, a smirk curling up his lips and he chuckles softly. He kisses each of your palms, gently removing them from his face. He tugs you in close, tail swaying behind him. Tilting your chin up, his claw running along your lower lip. He leans in close, lips only inches away. His voice noticeably deepens.

"You're sweeter than pie, ain't ya, sugar? Got my heart and stomach all twisted in knots like somethin' awful. I'm not the best with words but I'd be happy to show ya just how much your tender sentiment is mutual. If you'll have me."

|| I DON'T GIVE PERMISSION FOR MY WORKS TO BE REPOSTED, RESHARED, OR EDITED. TUMBLR IS MY ONLY ACCOUNT AND THE ONLY PLACE WHERE I POST MY WRITING. ALL CHARACTERS BELONG TO THEIR RIGHTFUL OWNERS, THE STORY BELONGS TO ME. || CHERUBFAE © 2024

#hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel imagines #hazbin imagines #hazbin hotel x you #alastor x reader #hazbin lucifer x reader #lucifer morningstar x reader #charlie morningstar x reader #vaggie x reader #angel dust x reader #husk x reader #vox x reader #blitz x reader #loona x reader #striker x reader #cherubfae 2024 #helluva boss imagines #helluva boss x you #helluva boss x reader

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tohokuu · 1 year

Text

there’s only one bed left - tengen, akaza, rengoku, giyuu

REBLOG MY WORK.

warnings : suggestive, fluff, smut in giyuu’s

a/n : they’re so cute and fluffy i love and omg k want this to happen to me so bad. also, can you guys tell i love akaza???

TENGEN

you and your current boyfriend had offered to take you on a vacation to turkey. you agreed, happily ready to see the mountains and planes of turkey. upon arrival at the hotel, tengen took both of your suitcases, handing them to the bus boy that was at the door to carry your luggage for you.

“tengen, i could’ve held it.” you insisted. he shook his head. “it’s not very flashy.”

you raised an eyebrow, sighing and giving up because there was never any good reason to argue with him and win.

you two walked up to the reception, a kind old man standing behind the counter.

“a reservation for uzui tengen, please.” tengen crooned. his body seemed giddy and the hair on his arms rose. maybe he was cold?

the bus boy carried your luggage onto a cart. you felt bad for him. no one was helping him and he was pushing a card with a total of 12 suitcases with him. he couldn’t see ahead of him but neither tengen helped him, nor did he allow you to.

you pursed your lips, hoping the awkward silence would pass by quickly in the elevator.

at the ding of the elevator, you all stepped out and tengen was gracious enough to carry 4 suitcases on his own, not even breaking a sweat.

his work out routine was rough.

upon arrival, you looked into the large spacious king suite. two beds settled into each side of the room, 5 feet of space between both of them.

tengen walked through the threshold in shock. the smile on his face replaced with a shocked and confused expression.

he threw his arms out forward, bending and looking at the two beds.

“what the fuck!? i asked for one bed!”

AKAZA

“there’s only one room left and it’s got a single queen sized bed.” the receptionist said as she looked up at you and akaza.

you and him turned to look into each others eyes, dumbfounded expressions on your face.

“uhm… are you sure there aren’t any more?” he asked her. she shook her head. “i’ve checked twice, sir. this is the only room available. there will be more later tomorrow.”

you observed your situation. would you drive through the pouring snow for another hour for the next hotel, or sleep in your car and risk freezing to death?

what could you do? because you’d rather sleep on the edge of a volcano than sleep in the same bed as akaza.

not that you hated him or anything. it was his sheer attractiveness that pulled you in. he was so handsome and so sweet and respectful, but he was also strong and kind.

there was nothing to dislike and that’s exactly what bothered you. you liked him.

so how could you be able to handle sleeping with him??

“does the room come with a couch?” he asked. the receptionist shook her head.

“i’m afraid not, sir. there’s only one room available with one bed.”

akaza sighed and looked at you. “we can stay if you’d like, or i can go find a different hotel .” he quickly offered. you shook your head.

“it’s too cold, akaza. just stay here, we’ll figure it out.”

just like that, you two are forced to be in close proximity together. akaza had tried to take the floor but the cold marble was freezing and you’d rather not make him suffer through that.

so your next option was to sleep together with pillows put in between you two as a barrier.

the silence was awkward.

there was so much tension, it could have been cut with a knife. sleep wouldn’t come easy either, you were too stressed … and a little bit hot.

“akaza, it’s hot in here.” you whined. he sighed, knowing it was because the hotel had racked the heater up so high and the pillows and blankets you used to separate yourselves wasn’t helping.

“let’s get rid of the pillows, then.” there was hesitation in his voice. he wasn’t completely sure if you’d be okay with taking the pillows down. you sighed, thinking with your cunt instead.

“it’s perfectly fine.” you smiled, leaning back on your elbows as you stared at him from across your little wall.

the pillows were thrown on to the floor by the both of you in a comical manner. you pushed the comforter down a bit, revealing your tiny shorts and crop top.

this felt a lot better.

but akaza warmed up. he realized how close to naked you were lying next to him on this big bed. what was to stop him if he wanted you?

his brain, of course.

“can we cuddle?” he asked. his voice was filled with that same hesitation from earlier. you turned your head to look at him.

“what?” you asked.

even in the moonlight, you could see the redness of his cheeks and the way his long lashes fluttered over his blue eyes.

“nothing, i-… i just-“

your wave of confidence washed over you as you turned towards him, hooking one leg over his waist and wrapping your arms around his neck.

his body was frigid. he didn’t know what to do. your own was excruciatingly hot because how on earth did you manage to do this?

a moment of silence and pure awkwardness passed by until his arms wrapped around you, a little bit tighter as he nuzzled his face into your neck.

“you smell good.” you two whispered at the same time. a laugh booming into the air as you realized your mistake. he laughed too, eyes shutting closed while peacocks formed at the corner of his eyes.

he looked back at you, smiling in content in this position he got himself in.

a hand trailed up your neck and as if the world has slowed down and the wind had began to blow, you felt the searing touch of akaza’s lips slot against yours.

you whimpered into his mouth, kissing back with just as much passion. he held onto your face he tenderly, cradling it as though you might break.

“i like you.” he whispered against your lips.

“i like you more.”

RENGOKU

“rengokuuuu!!” you wailed. he turned to look at you, his eyebrows knitted in concern.

“what happened, y/n?” the orange haired male asked.

you pouted, explaining to him that there was only one cabin left and the cabin only had one bed. rengoku smiled as if there were no issues. “that’s quite alright. i can take the couch!”

you shook your head. “no, absolutely not. i’d feel terrible.” the smile never faltered from his face. he was an endless ray of sunshine that kept you warm for days.

“don’t worry, my dear y/n. we’ll figure it out. don’t worry.”

you wondered how he’d ended up in your bed. he was shirtless, hair sprawled out messily on the pillowcase and his abs were on full display.

you lay against him, his arm pulling you over his chest. then you looked down…

‘why am i fucking naked??’

rengoku was also naked… does that mean you two?..

you looked in the corner at the empty bottle of whiskey. your face felt impossibly hot but a wet feeling erupted in between your legs at the idea of rengoku being the one to pleasure you.

still, you sat there in shock. how could you have spent a night with rengoku and not even remember it?! this was absolutely atrocious.

“good morning, my flower.” a voice interrupted your thoughts. it was deep, coming from the broad chest of the man you slept with last night.

“g-good morning, rengoku…” you replied, swallowing an awkward lump in your throat.

“rengoku, did we… did we fuck last night?” you asked him sheepishly, holding the bed spread tightly to your chest. he looked confused, still half asleep.

he peered one eye open, looking to check if he was nude.

he was.

with that, he shot up. a blush enflamed his cheeks. what the fuck..he thought.

“n-no.. i didn’t just fuck you for the first time and not remember it.” he whined, worry deeply set in his voice. you calmed him down, rubbing a soft hand up and down his chest.

“we have many more opportunities to make love again.” you reasoned. you had been with the man for just a few months, wanting to take it slow and surely not sleep with each other until you were both ready but this… this was quite different than what you planned.

“i know, but angel, this was the first time.” he whined softly.

you pulled his head onto your chest. running your fingers through his hair, trying to get him to stop being mean to himself.

“it’s okay, baby.” you cooed. “we have all the time in the world, don’t worry.”

“well in that case…you wanna go round 2 right now?”

GIYUU

“there’s only one room left, sir.” the receptionist called out. giyuu sighed. “we’ll take that one.” he didn’t give you much of a choice. dragging your luggage and his with him up the elevator, he hadn’t said a word.

you figured he was already quite annoyed about the pompous amount of rain outside. you two were traveling for a meeting and the rain had delayed both of you. it bothered him endlessly that he was going to miss such an important meeting.

you chose not to speak, not wanting to irritate the quiet male.

he set down your luggage on the side, next to the bed. his clothes came off next. jacket, sweater and a black tank top that he chose to leave on. he took off his jeans, lounging around in plain black boxers.

“take the bed. i’ll be fine on the couch.” he grumbled. you nodded, heading to the bathroom to change into something more comfortable to sleep in.

you walked back out in a large t shirt and panties. you figured it didn’t matter much because your t shirt was so big that it reached the middle of your thigh, anyway.

but giyuu saw. he was turned towards you when you reached down to put your phone on charging, your ass on clear display for him.

he breathed sharply through his nose. it was simply a bad idea to even have turned facing your direction. he felt his dick semi-hard.

turning around, he ignored it, choosing peace instead.

it was later that night that something woke him up. was it the rush of heavy rain? the hotel telephone? or … heavy breathing coming from your side of the room.

he quietly listened, steadying his own breathing.

his eyes widened as he heard everything that fell from your lips, dick straining against his boxers.

fuck.

you were touching yourself… to the thought of him.

the mewls were hushed, doing your best to keep quiet. the air was hot and heavy and when he slowly peeked to look over, he saw you with your legs spread. they stretched far apart as your pretty pussy was on display. he could hear how wet you were, fingers sloshing around in the mess inside of you.

“g-giyuu…” you breathed heavily. he couldn’t help but trail his own hand to his cock, rubbing it uncomfortably against the palm of his large hands.

“f-feels so good.” you whined softly.

he could only imagine. he could think of 10 different ways that he could make you cum. 10 different ways to make you go stupid and crying for him and his cock.

he rutted against his palm harder, trying to keep the grunts of pleasure in. he was so close to his orgasm, just needed a bit more, and you gave it to him.

“ ‘m gonna cum so hard,, g-giyuu..” you cried softly, the tears in your voice apparent.

then what giyuu got up, trailing his way to your bed. he pulled the covers farther down, revealing your calves.

your eyes shot open as you stopped, the pleasure long gone.

“g-giyuu, this isn’t what it looks like- i swear!” you shouted.

he put a hand over your mouth.

“shut up, i’ll take care of you now.”

REBLOG MY WORK.

taglist form.

#akaza smut #rengoku smut #giyuu smut #tengen smut #akaza x reader #rengoku x reader #giyuu x reader #tengen x reader #demon slayer smut #demon slayer x reader #kny smut #kny x reader #akaza x y/n #rengoku kyojuro #giyuu headcanons

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