#Up against the glass...BRACED against the glass...standing in the middle | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

finelinefae · 3 months

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the aviator [pilot!harry x teacher!yn]

synopsis: It’s the 1950s. Harry is the best pilot on the Air Force base and y/n is a teacher at a nursery.

word count: 8.5k

contains: fluff, flirting, opposites attract, bad boy/good girl dynamic, Harry has a southern accent, alcohol, smoking, allusions to childhood trauma

This is part 1 of a new series that will probably have 3-ish parts !!

. . .

Offutt Air Force Base, situated in Omaha, Nebraska, housed thousands of civilians working in or connected to the military. People living in the nearby town would often hear the loud plane engines as they take off and land on the runway. They’d look out the windows of their home and see spitfires piloted by men undergoing training, executing missions, or just having a good time, even when they technically weren’t given permission.

“Wah Hooo!” The spitfire trembled as it finally landed on solid ground. Harry braced himself for the landing, pushing himself back against his seat to stop himself from jolting around. He did his best to hide his smile and remain nonchalant as he heard the familiar voices yelp in excitement as he landed the aircraft.

He removed his helmet and pushed the canopy of the cockpit open, leaping down and getting familiar with feeling the solid ground beneath his feet after being in the air. Two figures ran up to him, flailing their arms and screeching in excitement, “Tha’s what I’m talking about!” Harry opened his arms, unable to stop himself from laughing the two men almost knocked him over as they joined in a group hug.

“You flew her like a champ, H. Never seen anything like that in my life.” Harry looked into two sets of eyes an identical colour to his own.

Standing in front of him were his two brothers, Sonny and George. All three of them were pilots in the military and had been since they left school to sign up after the War. There wasn’t too much age difference between them which was probably one of the reasons the brothers were so close. Harry was the oldest, just over a year senior to George, who happened to be taller despite being the middle child, and Sonny was the youngest.

“Yeah well, she still needs some work. One of her engine cylinders is faulty.” The three of them walked side by side towards the maintenance shed. Despite their differences in height, anyone would assume the three brothers were triplets from how similar they looked. Most people on base knew them for their signature sea-glass green eyes and their brown hair.

“Oh I’ll go and tell Ruddy, he might still be here.” Sonny ran ahead

“Oh and Sonny,” Harry called for his younger brother, “Good job.” Harry winked at his younger brother, referring to his work on the plane he had just flown. In response, Sonny straightened his shoulders and smiled feeling proud after receiving a compliment from his older brother.

Harry and George both lit a cigarette each, pausing outside the door to the warehouse to smoke together. “I opened up a letter this morning from Ma.” George exhaled, smoke escaping past his lips.

Harry tried not to show his annoyance, “Wha’d she say?” He grumbled.

“She misses us… All of us and she wants us to stop by, come visit for dinner one day maybe.” George explained.

“Is she still with that old bastard?” Harry looked up at his younger brother.

George nodded, “Last time I heard.”

“Then we’re not going, none of us are.” Harry thought back to the last time he had allowed himself and his siblings to visit his mother. It was going well in the beginning, she’d cooked them up a roast pork and engaged in conversation, until their Father came home. It wasn’t long into their visit before they left the house and Sonny had gone home with a black eye whilst Harry had to get his hand stitched up at a hospital on the journey back.

Harry had grown up in Dallas, Texas, in a tacky old house that barely stood upright just on the outside of town. Whilst his Father was out working on a ranch somewhere and getting pissed up every night, Harry would spend most of his days keeping the house together whilst tending to his younger siblings. His mother was often somewhere in the house - nobody knew exactly what she was doing, since she wasn’t exactly all there half the time - but she was there.

Every visit they made back home was a reminder as to why they had entered the military in the first place. Whenever their mother would send them a letter, it was either because she wanted something or wanted them to come home so she could ask for that same something in person. The last time Harry had bought his siblings home was the first time in years. He thought his mother would be different yet he had no idea why - she was still letting that old man walk around as if he was the one who kept the house from falling.

“Sonny and I agreed you’re picking up Elise from nursery by the way,” George smirked, chucking his cigarette on the ground and putting it out with his foot.

“You and Sonny agreed that?” Harry frowned, receiving a nod from his brother, “I’ve been flying all day and y’ still want me to go pick up the baby?”

George clapped his older brother on the shoulder, “We’ve both got to help out in the warehouse this evening and besides, you’re Offutt's best pilot, I think you can handle picking up a two-year-old on the way home.”

Harry didn’t have time to argue with his brother as he stepped into the warehouse. He let out a deep sigh and took one puff of his cigarette before throwing it to the ground. He put his flight cap on his head to cover his messy hair and straightened his aviator jacket, walking towards the nursery.

. . .

“How have you found your first day Y/N?” Midge, one of the other nursery workers asked as they stood at the sink together to wash up some of the paint pots a few of the kids had been playing with in the afternoon.

“It’s been wonderful, Midge.” Y/N grinned. Although she was tired, she also felt ecstatic to finally be working again after months of searching for a new job. She had always been good with children thanks to her older sister having a kid of her own for her to babysit now and then. So when the opportunity arose to work a well-paying job at a nursery on the military base, she couldn’t pass it up. They’d even offer her free accommodation and discounted food for groceries which was perfect considering she didn’t have much of any of those things when she was living alone.

“I expect most of the kids will be getting picked up soon,” Midge glanced at the clock, “Everyone will be returning from work.”

Y/N hadn’t expected pick up time at the nursery to be so busy but fathers and mothers bustled in to pick up their children to take them home all at once. Once the majority of the kids had been picked up, Y/N glanced around to see the mess that had been left from the day that she’d have to clean up by herself. Her shoulders dropped as she landed on a small figure, realising she wasn’t completely alone yet.

“Elise, what are you doing?” Y/N smiled at the tiny girl playing in the corner, she was picking up picture books and flicking through them as if she were actually reading them. Y/N crouched down in front of the small toddler, “Are you enjoying those?”

Elise just grinned, picking something up with her small fingers and trying to put it in her mouth. Her brown, curly ringlets were no longer in uneven bunches like they had been this morning and her overalls were covered in food and paint stains. Y/N picked up the two-year-old to place in her lap, “Shall we read something before your dad comes to get you?” Elise babbled a reply.

Halfway through their fifth book, Elise was near enough asleep on Y/N’s lap. It had already been an hour since all of the other children went home and it wouldn’t be long before the sun would set. Y/N carefully picked Elise up so her head was on her shoulder and it was comfy enough to sleep as she stepped towards the telephone to see if Elise’s father was coming to pick her up.

As her hand went to pick up the telephone, a voice stopped her, “Hello?” It was deep and southern and husky like he had just smoked a cigarette or two, “I’m here to pick up Elise.”

Y/N turned around, and her breath caught in her throat as she spotted a tall figure leaning casually against the door frame. He wore a brown leather aviator jacket and grey trousers, with his flight cap tucked under his arm. His piercing green eyes, similar to Elise's, met hers, framed by brown curly hair. An unlit cigarette dangled from his lips.

Y/N had never seen anyone like him in her entire life.

“Y-yes,” She cleared her throat and forced her eyes to look away from his intense gaze. She stood and walked over to where he stood by the door with Elise in his arms, “You must be Elise’s father.”

“M her brother,” He corrected.

“Excuse me?” Y/N wasn’t sure if she heard him correctly, too busy gawking at him to actually pay attention.

“M Elise’s brother, one out of three of her brothers to be exact.” He repeated, his eyes glancing at the sleeping girl Y/N was holding.

“O-oh,” She blushed, “My bad, you look so similar I thought you were her father.”

“Easy mistake,” Harry smirked, “Would you like me to take her from you?”

“Yes, of course,” Y/N gently removed Elise from her and passed her to Harry.

“There we go,” He cooed as Elise whimpered at the sudden movement, “There’s m’ little Elise.”

Y/N thought her ovaries might explode as she watched the pilot interact with the small girl in his arms, making sure she was comfortable enough so she could remain asleep. “Are you new here ma’am?” Harry spoke his focus now back on Y/N.

“Yes actually, today’s my first day here,” She explained.

“No wonder, I ain’t ever seen y’ around the place. How’re you liking it so far?”

“I’ve only been here a couple of days but it’s been nice. Working here at the nursery has been lovely too,”

“Yeah?” Harry’s lips curled, “I hope this one hasn’t been giving y’ much trouble. She can be a little devil with my younger brothers.”

Y/N immediately shook her head, “No, she’s been lovely honestly. Think I spent most of the day with Elise out of all the other children.”

Y/N noticed how Harry focused on her face as she spoke to him, every now and then his eyes would dart to her lips and then back up to meet her eyes, “Y got any friends here?”

She paused, “Any friends?”

“Yeah, you know,” He half smiled, it felt almost flirty but maybe Y/N was just imagining it, “People y’ like to hang out with.”

“Uh yeah, I share a house with a few of the girls who work in various places around the base. I get along with most of them and the ladies who work here at the nursery too.” Y/N explained, cringing at how awkward she was and how she’d probably be replaying this conversation back later only to die of embarrassment of all the things she said.

“Y’ know there’s a dance down at the community centre this Friday, y’ should come, oh and invite some of those friends of yours too.”

“Oh I don’t know, I think I’m working this Friday and-”

“A lot of my buddies who I fly with go there sometimes - a good time they said. It might be a good chance to meet some of the people here,” He shrugged, “Could offer y’ a dance or two if you’d like.”

Y/N wondered if all this was really happening right now or if she was just so tired that she was hallucinating, “O-okay,”

Harry grinned, a dimple carving into his cheek, “Well alright then,”

“Alright then,” Y/N tried to keep her smile at bay as she took it as his queue to leave. She kept the door open so he could easily step out as he walked backwards with Elise in his arms and his eyes still on Y/N even as he said nothing.

“So I’ll see y’ at the dance?”

“Maybe,” Y/N shrugged, even though she had already decided she was most definitely going to the dance.

“Alright, maybe I’ll see y’ at the dance then,” Harry responded with a light, amused chuckle.

Y/N watched as he turned his back and began to walk down the dirt road until he stopped briefly and spun around, “I didn’t catch y’name by the way,” He called out to her.

Y/N cupped her mouth, “It’s Y/N,”

“Y/N,” He said the name like he was testing how it sounded, “M Harry. Hey, I better see y’ at that dance Y/N, I don’t handle rejection all that well.” Y/N couldn’t help but giggle.

“I can believe that,” She yelled back.

“I’d say goodbye but I wanna see y’ at that dance so I’ll say goodnight instead.” Harry said with a casual salute before turning and continuing down the road.

Y/N shut the door and leaned against it, clutching her hands over her chest in complete disbelief. Her sister had warned her the pilots on the base would be young men near enough her own age and that she ought to be careful hanging around them. However, her sister hadn’t warned her that a man like Harry would stumble over to her workplace to pick up his sister and invite her to a dance on Friday night.

Y/N quickly cleaned up the nursery, shoving things into boxes and wiping down the tables, before grabbing her coat and running down the road to her house.

On every street on the housing estate, there was a row of houses that all looked the same but were owned by different types of people. Some had big families all living under one roof, others were men who lived alone. Y/N’s house was the first house on the street. It was a traditionally designed home with a pitched roof, a small front porch and symmetrical windows. She shared it with three other girls who all worked different jobs across the Air Force base.

The sun had already set by the time she entered the house. All the lights were turned on and the gentle music of Buddy Holly sounded from the living room. Y/N kicked off her heels and hung up her coat, walking to the living room where Patsy and Molly were lounging on the couch. Molly had Patsy’s foot in her lap as she painted her toenails a wine red.

Y/N collapsed on the couch next to Molly, “What’s wrong? Work not go so well?” Molly inquired.

“No,” Y/N huffed, resting her head on Molly’s shoulder, “It was wonderful.”

“Well, what’s got you so blue Peggy Sue,” Patsy questioned, her tone playful. She was reading a magazine and smoking a cigarette.

“A man came into work after everybody left to pick up one of the girls, Elise.” Y/N clarified.

“You mean Elise Styles?” Molly asked.

Y/N sat up, “Yes, you know her?”

“Just about every woman on this base knows her. She’s the Styles’ little sister.” Molly explained, “We’ve all had to babysit her at least once for those brothers.”

“Yeah and neither of us will be doing it again,” Patsy piped up, as if reminding Molly.

“Oh, you must know Harry then,” Molly paused, shoving Patsy’s foot off of her lap and turning to face Y/N.

“Is he the man you’re sighing over?” Patsy’s magazine fell to the floor as she too stopped to listen.

Y/N furrowed her brows, confused by their reaction, “Y-yes, what about him?”

“What about him?” Molly stood, grabbing a cigarette from the packet on the coffee table and lighting it up, “Y/N you oughta be careful around all three of those brothers but especially Harry.”

“What do you mean?” Y/N glanced at Patsy who nodded in agreement with Molly.

“That boy is not good news. He’s Offutt’s best pilot and he thinks that gives him the right to go around sniffing out every woman that steps foot onto this base.” Y/N frowns, watching as Molly begins to pace back and forth, “He didn’t ask you to go out with him did he?”

“Well he asked me to the dance on Friday. The one at the community centre.”

“Oh, I bet he did!’ Molly exclaimed, “Listen Y/N, I’m telling you this because I don’t want any trouble for you. That boy is no good, he’s slept with half the ladies residing here and even the wives too I bet! He asked Patsy to go out to dinner with him one night and stood her up to go see another woman.”

Y/N glanced at Patsy, “He was flirting with two different women inbetween the moment he asked and our date a week later.” She added.

“That’s right. Y/N darlin’, we shoulda warned y’ before y’ stepped foot out of this house this morning. Those Styles brothers will mess you around and leave y’ lonely for sport. You’re too nice to deserve all of that.”

Y/N's shoulders slumped, “But he seemed so… nice.” Y/N pictured Harry with Elise and how gentle he was with her.

“He’s not a bad person Y/N but when it comes to women, there’s no guessing what that man turns into.”

“Everyone’s heard plenty of things about why they came here too. If you ask me, his home wasn’t exactly a perfect example to him.” Patsy said.

“Well, whatever reason, best stay away from him.” Molly finished.

Y/N heaved a sigh, “So I shouldn’t go to the dance on Friday?”

“Oh no, we’ll go to the dance. Harry’s not the only fine, young pilot on base I’ll tell you that.” Molly smirked and Patsy cheered with excitement at the thought of going out Friday night.

Y/N attempted to smile, but she couldn't shake off the sadness upon realising that the man she had met earlier in the evening wasn't as kind as she had initially believed. Molly fell back onto the couch next to her and put an arm around her shoulders, “Cheer up sweet cheeks. I’m sure plenty of men will want to take you out after this dance.”

Y/N managed a weak smile, grateful for Molly's comforting presence. "Thanks, Molly," she murmured, leaning into her friend's embrace.

"Yeah, plenty of fish in the sea, darlin'. You'll find one that's worth your time." Patsy chimed in.

Feeling a bit more reassured by her friends' words, Y/N nodded. "You're right. I can’t let one bad apple ruin my night."

Molly squeezed her shoulder affectionately. "That's the spirit! Now let's focus on having a great time at the dance. We can tell you about some of the other fellas who live here too."

With her friends' support, Y/N felt an inkling of hope return. She might have been disappointed by one man, but she wasn't about to let it dampen her spirits for the rest of the evening. She was glad she told her friends about her interaction with Harry and now she was left with one rule stitched into the back of her mind.

Keep away from Harry Styles.

. . .

The night sky was clear enough to see the stars glittering against the pitch-black backdrop. A soft, gentle breeze flowed through the air as Harry lay back on the swinging chair on the front porch of the house he shared with his three brothers.

This was his favourite time of day when it was completely silent and the air was cool and crisp. He didn’t like the nights so much when he was living with his parents. After midnight, or sometimes just before, his father would come in through the backdoor stinking the place up with alcohol and waking everyone up with his nightly rampages.

Nowadays, the nighttime was the most relaxing part of the day and Harry savoured every second of it. He often finds himself sat out on the porch after putting Elise to bed. He’d smoke a cigarette or two, and maybe play his guitar a little bit.

Tonight felt a little different though. Whilst his brothers were upstairs trying to put a fussy Elise to bed after she’d napped when he brought her home from nursery, he came outside and could think of nothing but the woman he found holding his little sister in her arms.

Harry knew everyone on base the same way they knew him. He recognised faces easily and had at least one brief encounter with everyone he met in passing. However, the face he had met for the first time this evening was unfamiliar and new.

Her features were delicate and angelic, with large doe eyes that held a hint of shyness to them. A soft, rosy blush adorned her cheeks and her lips were full and plush that he couldn’t seem to take his eyes off of them. Her movements were gentle and her voice was airy and sweet, Harry thought of her stuttering and the way she’d blush whenever she spoke. He hadn’t seen anything like her in his life - he wasn’t a religious or spiritual person but, at that moment, he was pretty sure an angel had landed right in front of his very eyes.

Even her name sounded as though it came from some kind of mythical text - one full of beauty and purity, love and light.

Harry wasn’t the purist of men, far from it. He had slept in the beds of women he couldn’t remember the name of and indulged in his fair share of reckless behaviour. But in the presence of Y/N, he felt an unfamiliar stirring within him, a sense of longing tugging at his heartstrings. He didn’t know what it was and he wasn’t so sure he was ready to find out yet.

He lit a cigarette with a matchstick and exhaled into the air, tendrils of smoke dancing above him. The sound of footsteps thudding inside of the house as someone walked downstairs, broke the silence he had been basking in.

The door swung open and George stepped out, “Finally managed to get Elise to settle down though it took a whole round of nursery rhymes. Sonny’s still up there now, he’s afraid she’ll wake up again if he stops singing.” George took a cigarette from the pack Harry had in his pocket, “I thought you told those ladies at the nursery not to let her nap before she comes home.”

“I did,” Harry spoke, his voice husky.

“What? They didn’t listen to y’?” George chuckled.

“There’s a new worker. I’ll let her know next time I see her.” Harry hadn’t wanted to tell Y/N that Elise wasn’t allowed to sleep so late in the afternoon because it was harder to get her to go to bed at night. He didn’t seem to have the heart to as he watched her hold the small girl in her arms.

George scoffed, “A new worker? Is she a knockout at least?”

Harry didn’t reply, instead asking, “What do y’ think about the three of us going to the dance at the Community Centre on Friday?”

George laughed until he realised his brother wasn’t laughing with him, “You’re serious?”

The door swung open again and out stepped Sonny, “I swear if that baby wakes up, you two can sit in there and dance circles around her singing Miss Muffet for all I care. I ain’t doing that again.” He wiped his brow with the back of his hand, “Can y’ pass me a cigarette, George?”

George handed the cigarette to Sonny, “Hey Sonny, Harry wants to know if we’ll go to the dance at the Community Centre this Friday.”

Sonny chuckled but that quickly went away, “Oh shit really?”

“Yeah tha’s what I thought,” George said.

“You got your eye on someone Harry?” Sonny spoke, “Is it that girl from the med centre? She sure is something.”

Harry sat up and turned to face his two brothers, “No, it’s not that,” He lied, “Jus’ thought we could go do something other than sit around and drink at the bar.”

“But the dance?” Sonny quirked a brow, “You hate dances.”

“I never said that,” Harry said, even though he always made it known how much he hated the dances they held every Friday night.

“No, I definitely think I remember y’ saying dances were for people who wanted to get laid but couldn’t,” George spoke, backing up his younger brother who nodded in agreement.

“Alright,” Harry held his hands up, “Alright maybe I did say that. C’mon, what are you, Gunther and Francis? Sit down the pair of you.” They followed their older brother's orders, sitting on the seats opposite him. “Maybe there is a girl.” He sighed.

“Oh yeah?” Sonny smirked.

“Yeah, little shit,” Harry chuckled, “So if you could both do me a favour and get yourselves cleaned up Friday night because we’re going to a shitty dance and I won’t be having either of y’ covered in grease and soot.”

“Okay, alright, H.” George took a puff of his cigarette, “But you’re paying for drinks after.” Harry shook his head, unable to suppress a chuckle.

. . .

Y/N stood in front of her bedroom mirror when Friday night rolled around. She had left the nursery in a hurry, needing as much time as possible to get ready for the dance at the Community Centre. She had been wracked with nerves all week, knowing there was a high chance she would see Harry there and she’d have to do her best to ignore him like Molly had told her to.

She had picked out her outfit the night before. It was one of her best dresses- a lovely duck egg blue, satin fabric with a fitted bodice and a sweetheart neckline that showed off her decolletage. From the waist, the skirt flowed down in a full, flared A-line silhouette, gently swaying with every step. She wore white low heels on her feet and decided to carry a small purse with her too.

Most of her time in the evening was spent on her hair and makeup. Y/N had almost used an entire can of hairspray to ensure her hair would stay intact the whole night. Molly had even given her a French manicure the night before and she spent the whole day at the nursery trying her best not to ruin her perfectly shaped nails.

It had been a long time since she had put this much effort into going somewhere and it was all for a measly dance. There would be many other pretty girls who had spent more or less time on dressing up who probably had a better chance of catching the eye of a man than Y/N did. Yet she wasn’t hoping for the attention of just any man.

Even though Molly and Patsy had warned her of Harry’s nature, she couldn’t stop thinking about Harry. The way his eyes sparkled when he smiled and the sound of his voice as he spoke in that deep, southern drawl. Every time she thought of going to the dance, he would appear in her mind. Maybe she didn’t necessarily want anything from him but she wanted to at least catch his eye enough to make a lasting impression on him.

Y/N applied a little more powder to her nose and did one final check in the mirror. She straightened her shoulders, “This will have to do,” She muttered, grabbing her purse.

Patsy and Molly were already downstairs drinking margaritas and listening to Frank Sinatra on the record player. “Oh and another one comes to join us,” Molly grinned, wearing a navy, spotty dress with a red belt wrapped around her small waist.

“What took you so long?” Patsy grinned, pouring a drink in a martini glass and handing it to Y/N.

“O-oh no thank you, I don’t drink.” Y/N shook her head and forced a smile out of politeness.

“What? You don’t?” Patsy replied like she couldn’t believe what she was hearing.

“Oh c’mon! Just one little sip - liquid courage and all that.” Molly took the glass from Patsy to give to Y/N who forced herself to take it from her. She held the glass to her lips, taking one small sip and feeling a tiny burn from the alcohol.

“Good right?” Molly smirked, lighting a cigarette and holding the packet open to Y/N.

“No thank you, I don’t smoke either.” Y/N laughs nervously.

“Fair enough,” Molly shrugs, passing the pack over to Patsy who happily takes one for herself.

Y/N places her drink on the table, knowing she won’t be touching it again. “We’ll be heading out in a moment, we’re just waiting on one more.” As if she could hear them talking about her, footsteps thumped down the stairs and into the living room.

Y/N’s eyes widened when her eyes landed on the tall, blonde standing in the doorway. She was wearing a black dress with a neckline that showed off her bust and a tight waistline that accentuated her curves. The strands of her golden, blonde hair were tied back into a high ponytail with her fringe perfectly curled. She wore red lipstick on her plump lips which made the blue in her eyes even brighter than they already were.

“You’ve been in your room for hours, Nancy,” Patsy whined.

“Yes well, I don’t just plan on getting wasted tonight Patsy.” Nancy retorted.

Nancy was Y/N's other housemate, but Y/N didn't know her as well as she knew Patsy and Molly. Even though they lived together, Nancy seemed a bit distant compared to the latter two, who were friendly and nice. Nancy would smile politely, but she didn't say much else. Oftentimes, Y/N would get a strange feeling about Nancy like how she would make little comments that seemed to be jabs masked by forced politeness or how sometimes it felt like Nancy enjoyed pointing out Y/N's mistakes, like how she did her laundry or what groceries she bought. She wasn’t sure what she had done to upset Nancy but Y/N hoped it was just her over-thinking that made her believe she was this way and that tonight would allow them to get to know each other a little better.

Nancy’s eyes fell on Y/N and looked her up and down, “Nice dress,” She said, her voice dripping with saccharine sweetness.

“Thank you,” Y/N offered her a smile but received nothing in return.

“Alright ladies,” Molly stubbed her cigarette in the ashtray, “Let’s go catch us a few good men.”

“A few?” Patsy giggled.

“You’re right, I think a few is a little too much for this place.” Molly huffed and led the way out of the house and towards the community centre.

Y/N could hear the live music coming from the centre as they walked down the street. Patsy and Molly were stumbling ahead, arms linked together as they laughed side by side. Y/N tried not to laugh at her friends as she walked alongside Nancy.

“You planning on hooking up with anybody tonight?” Nancy’s voice broke the silence between them.

“No I don’t think so,” Y/N replies.

Nancy scoffs, “These dances are mostly for that you know, better prepare yourself when a fella tries to talk to you.”

“You think they’ll want to?” Y/N asked, hopeful.

Nancy glanced at her, “I’m sure they’ll snatch you right up those pilot boys.”

Y/N blushes, “Is there anyone you’ve got your eyes on tonight Nancy?” She liked this, conversing with Nancy. She hoped this would be the start of breaking the ice between them and maybe they could become friends eventually, or at least build acquaintances.

Nancy smirks, “Only one.” She said nothing after that.

The girls walked into the community centre which was already full of people from all over the airbase. A live band was playing Elvis Presley songs, the music blaring into Y/N’s ears once they stepped inside. “Any of you girls want a drink-”

“Molly is that Everett?” Patsy pointed to a man in the corner, talking to a woman.

Molly’s face scrunched up, “I guess he’s back from Italy.”

Nancy interrupted the conversation, her eyes darting across the room like she was searching for somebody, “You girls grab something to drink, I’m just going to use the bathroom.”

“Who’s Everett?” Y/N asked Patsy as they walked towards the drinks table.

“A guy Molly had a thing with last year,” Patsy explained.

“Yeah until he told me he was going to Italy for a year and wanted to break things off so he could get laid by an Italian woman.” Molly ranted, leading the girls to the drinks table.

A bowl of punch resided in the centre of the table, Molly grabbed the ladle and poured them all a drink. Y/N took a sip and allowed her eyes to scan the room. Couples were dancing in the centre whilst others spoke in groups off to the side.

Eventually, her eyes caught sight of a group of men walking through the door. Each one of them was dressed in a similar uniform, a navy blue tailored jacket and matching, fitted trousers. She watched as an entire group of them continued to flood in through the doors until the last man stepped through.

He was wearing the same uniform as the others and his hair was gelled back with one curl falling in front of his forehead, unlike the messy curls she had seen when they first met. Y/N couldn’t help but stare as he weaved through the crowd and interacted with people as he walked past them. Everyone seemed to know him from the looks of it. He exuded confidence and bravado, people’s faces lighting up whenever he stopped to talk to them.

“Patsy?” One of the boys spoke.

“Here we go,” Molly muttered, forcing a smile.

A man with features that looked similar to the man Y/N had been eyeing, walked up to them with a taller man following him. “Hi Sonny,” Patsy greeted.

“Y’ sure know how to make yourself look good when you want to,” He winked, eyeing her up and down.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Patsy put both her hands on her waist.

“You know what I mean,” Sonny argued, realising he might have said something to offend her even though he had no idea what that might be.

“Hi,” The taller man behind him spoke. Y/N looked up and was met with familiar green eyes except they were a little bit lighter than the ones she had seen.

“Hi,” Y/N blushed.

“I’m George. Are you new here? I don’t think I’ve ever seen you around.” He wondered, pointing his thumb over his shoulder to the crowd as he spoke.

“Y-Yes, I arrived recently actually. I just started working at the nursery.” She clarified.

“Oh, the nursery! You must know my little sister Elise.” Y/N’s lips turned upwards thinking of the little girl she had been spending so much time with over the last few days. Since her first day, Elise had constantly been wanting her attention whether it was to nap or play with things or read books. “You must have met my older brother then.”

“Older brother?” Y/N didn’t have enough time to register as George glanced around the room and called out his brother’s name.

“Harry, c’mere!” He called.

Harry’s head turned towards them in the middle of his conversation. His eyes landed on his brother until they found hers. He offered a small smile and began to walk towards them with a drink already in his hand, “This is one of the new workers at Elise’s nursery.” George introduced even though he didn’t really need to.

“Yes, we’ve already met,” Harry said and Y/N thought she might melt into a puddle on the floor at the sound of his voice. “Hi there,”

“Hello,” Y/N smiled, shyly.

“So you came?” He teased.

“I did.” She laughed, lightly.

“And these are y’ friends?” He looked to Patsy and Molly who were bickering with Sonny who seemed to have said something else to offend them, George now joining in on the argument as he let Harry and Y/N talk.

“Yeah, they’re my friends,” Y/N said, feeling nervous under his gaze. But despite her nerves, she couldn't deny the thrill of being the focus of his attention.

“Good to know,” He murmured, “Y come here with anyone else?”

"Um, no, just the girls from my house," Y/N stuttered, feeling a rush of nerves as Harry's gaze lingered on her. "I don't know that many people. Other than the girls I live with and the ones from the nursery, who are all lovely, by the way," she added, her words tumbling out in a nervous ramble.

Harry grinned, his eyes twinkling with amusement at her flustered state. "You know me too," he stated, his tone playful as he leaned in closer.

Y/N gulped the air she breathed just as the lights in the centre dimmed. The fast-paced music began to slow down and couples gathered to the dance floor to slow dance together. “Y wanna dance with me Y/N?” Harry asked.

“I-I’m not very good at it,” Y/N smiled sheepishly, her cheeks tinged with a delicate blush. It was impossible to resist the charm that radiated from him.

He held out the palm of his hand and Y/N’s lips parted as she glanced down at it, “S just swaying tha’s all. Think y’ can do that?”

Y/N hesitantly nodded, her pulse quickening as Harry's long fingers gently wrapped around her wrist. A tingling sensation danced across her skin, sending shivers down her spine and causing goosebumps to rise in response to his touch. He led her to the centre of the dancefloor and turned around so they were face to face. Harry took both of Y/N's hands in his own, his touch sending electric currents coursing through her veins. With a tender yet confident touch, he trailed his fingers down her arms, causing her breath to hitch in her throat. As his hands settled at her waist, Y/N's breath turned shallow, her heart racing as the music floated through the air.

She was stiff at first, unable to relax until he leant forward and whispered, “Relax birdy,” She felt his breath against her neck as he spoke. He squeezed her waist a little and she dropped her shoulders, trying her best to loosen up under the circumstances.

“Birdy?” Y/N spoke, questioning the new nickname.

“I spotted y’ as soon as I stepped through the door. Your dress is blue ‘n it reminded me of the bluebirds I used to see back home whenever I’d go up in the mountains with my grandpa.” He explained.

“I didn’t know you’d seen me.”

“I searched for y’ as soon as I walked in. I only came because of you, if I couldn’t find y’ I’d probably just turn back and go to a bar or something.” He chuckled and Y/N laughed with him.

“No Elise?” She questioned, unable to stop herself from asking about the little girl she had become fond of.

“Elise is staying with the family next door. Little rascal tried to get ketchup on my uniform,” He rolled his eyes, “I got a free house if that’s what you’re implying though.”

Y/N’s face turned beat red, “N-No that’s not what I’m implying at all.”

“M just messin’” Harry grinned, cheekily.

Y/N relaxed, composing herself and trying to pull herself together, “I’ve heard things about you, you know.”

“Oh yeah?” Harry smirked, “What things?”

“Just things.” Y/N felt his fingertips press her skin for a moment.

“And do you believe these things?” Harry murmured, leaning in a little closer.

Y/N looked him in the eye, trying to see if she could read him without having to ask him a thousand questions, “I don’t know yet.”

Harry opened his mouth to reply but was stopped by the sudden change in music and the lights turning on above them. People cheered as they gathered back into big groups and began dancing again. Harry bit back a grin, shaking his head, “Y wanna come outside with me?” He asked, shouting over the loud music. Y/N bit her lip and nodded, taking his outstretched hand and allowing him to pull her through the crowd of people.

The air was cold once they stepped outside. Harry led her over to a small bench nearby where fewer people were gathered. He pulled out a cigarette and offered her the pack, “Oh no thank you, I don’t smoke.” She declined, politely.

Harry smiled around his cigarette, his gaze lingering on Y/N for a beat or two as he casually slipped the pack into the pocket of his trousers. The air between them was filled with a comfortable silence, broken only by the soft sound of music drifting from inside the centre. Sensing Y/N's slight shiver, Harry swiftly removed his jacket and draped it over her shoulders without saying a word.

"But you'll get cold," Y/N protested, her eyes widening in surprise.

"Don't y’ worry about me. I don't get cold," Harry quipped, a mischievous twinkle in his eye as he shrugged off her concern. His white t-shirt revealed toned arms adorned with a few tattoos littering his tanned skin.

As Harry tilted his head back to blow smoke into the night air, Y/N couldn't help but admire the way he carried himself with effortless confidence. Gathering her courage, she decided to strike up a conversation.

"Were those your brothers back there?" she asked, trying to keep her voice steady.

"Yeah, Sonny and George," Harry confirmed with a hint of pride in his voice.

"They look so much like you," Y/N remarked, her curiosity piqued.

"Strong genes, I suppose," Harry shrugged, his tone becoming more serious as he opened up about his family background.

"What about you? Do you have any siblings?" He inquired.

"Just an older sister and my little niece, Rosie Jean," Y/N replied, a fond smile tugging at her lips as she thought of her family.

"And your parents?" Harry pressed, his gaze intense as he studied her reaction.

"My parents are doctors, they work at a surgery in town," Y/N explained, feeling a pang of homesickness as she reminisced about her upbringing.

"And yours?" She prompted, turning the conversation back to Harry.

"M parents are nobodies," Harry's voice took on a sombre tone, clearly his family life was a sensitive topic. Sensing his discomfort, Y/N chose her next words carefully.

"What about Elise?" she asked, hoping to lighten the mood with talk of his sister.

"Elise is better off being raised by us three than being left alone in a house with batshit crazy," Harry scoffed, his protective instincts kicking in.

Feeling the weight of their conversation, Y/N searched for a way to lift Harry's spirits. "What made you want to be a pilot?" she asked, genuinely interested.

“Sonny came home wanting to sign up for cadet training after they visited his school. He came home running through the doors with a flyer in his hand and told everybody he was going into the army. I told him ‘No brother of mine is going anywhere that requires trench foot and guns.’ He didn’t talk to me for a week after that. It wasn’t until I found an advertisement where y’ could train to fly planes when I decided I was gonna make a better life for myself and my siblings. It just so happened Sonny and George wouldn’t let me go at it alone.” He inhaled his cigarette before tossing it to the ground.

As Harry shared the story of how he and his brothers found their way to Offutt, Y/N couldn't help but admire his determination. She found herself drawn to him even more, captivated by his strength and the way he always included his brother’s in everything he spoke about.

A comfortable silence settled between them. Y/N's heart skipped a beat as Harry smoothly slid his hand next to hers, their fingers intertwining effortlessly. His touch sent a jolt of electricity through her.

"Have I told y’ how beautiful y’look tonight?" Harry's voice was soft, his gaze locking with hers in a way that made her heart race.

Y/N blushed at his compliment, unable to tear her eyes away from his. "You're lying," she protested, feeling a surge of warmth spread through her cheeks.

"I swear it," Harry insisted, his hand reaching up to tuck a stray strand of hair behind her ear. "Swear on m’ life, birdy."

Y/N's heart fluttered at the nickname, a secret thrill running through her as she turned to face him. His eyes held a tenderness that melted her defences, and she found herself smiling back at him.

"Hi, birdy," Harry murmured, a dimple appearing on his cheek as he leaned in closer.

"Hi, Harry," Y/N whispered, her voice barely above a breath as she savoured the moment.

Harry's shoulders dropped and a soft smile tugged at the corners of his lips, though he seemed to be fighting to contain it. “I can’t lie to y’ birdy, I can’t stop thinking about kissing you,” Y/N's breath caught in her throat, her heart racing at his words. “I was gonna lie and tell y’ I’d been thinking about it since I saw you tonight but… quite honestly, I think I've been dreaming of y’ since I met y’ the other day.”

Y/N didn’t know what to say, she felt as though someone had put a zipper straight across her mouth and she couldn’t get it to open. All she could feel was every muscle in her body beating against her skin as though they were trying to force her to surge forward and kiss him herself. “Y-You can if you want,” She stuttered, cheeks pink.

Harry laughed, “What about if you want? Can’t go kissin’ y’ if y’ don’t want it birdy.”

“I do want it,” Y/N nodded.

“Yeah?” He spoke but it came out more like a whisper.

“Yeah.” Y/N gulped, feeling nervous.

Harry didn’t hesitate once the word had left her mouth. He leaned forward, closing the distance between them. Their lips met in a gentle, tentative kiss, soft and exploratory. Y/N's heart fluttered as she melted into the warmth of Harry's embrace, her senses flooded with the taste of his lips and the scent of his cedarwood cologne.

Time seemed to stand still as they lost themselves in the sweetness of the moment, their kisses deepening with each passing second. Harry's arms wrapped around Y/N, pulling her as close to him as possible.

In that instant, everything else faded away—the noise of the party, the chill of the night air—leaving only the two of them, lost in the heat of their first kiss.

They were both breathless as they pulled apart. Y/N’s eyes fluttered open to find Harry already looking at her, his eyes filled with emotion and intense desire. She noticed his tongue poke out to lick his bottom lip and she couldn’t help but giggle when she noticed the red lipstick stain she had left on his mouth from her kiss.

“Where abouts do you live?” Harry murmured.

“Clemon Street,” Y/N spoke, her voice coming out a whisper.

“Yeah? That’s on my way home,” He grinned.

“Oh really?” Y/N bit back a laugh, “I thought y’ lived on Newark Street - it said so in Elise’s file.”

Harry shrugged, “I like to go the long way round.” Y/N didn’t bother pulling him up on the fact that the two streets were on opposite ends of the housing estate.

“Can I walk y’ home?” He asked, his fingers fiddling with the fabric of her dress.

Y/N nodded, biting her bottom lip, “Yeah I’d like that.”

Harry grinned, “Well alright then.”

They stood up, Y/N keeping his jacket around her shoulders since it was still cold out, “I’ve just got to go to the bathroom,” She motioned towards the community centre.

“I’ll wait for y’ at the door,” He said, following her as they walked to the community centre side by side. Y/N walked up to the steps and opened the door, she looked over her shoulder to make sure Harry was still there- that he was real and not just someone she dreamt up.

Harry caught her eye, “M not going anywhere birdy,” he winked, “hurry up so I can walk y’ home and kiss y’ again.”

Y/N laughed and hurried straight to the bathroom. Once inside, she closed the cubicle door behind her and sank down onto the lid of the toilet seat, a wide grin spreading across her face. Unable to contain her excitement, she let out a delighted squeal, her mind buzzing with thoughts of the moment she had just shared.

She pulled out the pocket mirror from her bag and quickly reapplied the lipstick that had been smeared off. She fluffed up her hair with her hands and rubbed her aching cheeks from where had been smiling so much. She stood up and held Harry’s coat in her arms. As Y/N stepped outside the community centre, she scanned the area in search of Harry, hoping to catch a glimpse of him waiting for her. Her anticipation turned to disappointment when she couldn't spot him anywhere, and her shoulders slumped slightly in resignation. Just as she was about to turn away, a figure caught her eye—a silhouette that had a striking resemblance to Harry—standing in a shadowy corner illuminated by the lights from the community centre.

Heart fluttering with excitement, Y/N smiled and took a step forward, eager to walk home with him. However, her joy quickly turned to dismay when she realised he wasn't alone.

A sudden giggle pierced the air, causing Y/N's heart to sink. Molly's warning appeared typed out in big letters at the forefront of her mind, filling her with regret and dread as she hesitated, frozen in place. With each step she took closer, the scene before her unfolded—it was Nancy, her housemate, clinging to the man she had just kissed.

I imagine George to be Callum Turner and Sonny to be Timothee Chalamet specifically from ms stevens but you can imagine whoever you’d like ! <;33

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rottenaero · 11 months

Text

“Do you have any bands?”

Eddie glances at Steve, eyebrow raised. “I mean, yeah? Probably not your taste in music but-“

Steve shakes his head, “No, not like,” He sighs, pinches the bridge of his nose. “Like rubber bands.”

The metalhead eyes him, “Uh, you of all people should know those are terrible for your hair.” He stated, but makes to grab one anyway.

“No dumbass, braces bands.”

It clicked.

“Oh.”

He stared at Steve, who had his brow furrowed, and who also apparently had braces. “I forgot to bring extras, didn’t know if you had some for Dustin, or, Jeff has braces right?”

“Yep, yeah,” Eddie says after getting over the initial shock, how had he not noticed? He stands and makes his way towards a desk drawer and opens it, before throwing a tiny package toward Steve who catches it with all the grace of an athlete.

Steve put the bands on quickly, and Eddie watches the whole process. As soon as he’s done, he’s met with a question.

“When did you get them?”

“Five months ago.”

“Five months-“ He sputters. “Was I the only one who didn’t know?”

“Eh,” Steve shrugs, and tosses the tiny package of elastic onto the nightstand. He leans against the wall, and Eddie sidles up to his side. “Maybe, no one else has asked me about it so I don’t know. Hey, what are yo-“

Eddie grabs his chin with one hand and uses the other to open the mouth. The elastics that hadn’t been swapped out were a mix of blue and black. Steve smacked lightly at his arm.

“Dude, can you ask?”

“No need to, I’m done.”

He backs up, and taps his knee. “Why’d you get them now?”

“My parents wanted to do it in middle-school, but then things got busy for them, and they didn’t want me to have them in high-school, so I just never got ‘em.”

“Till five months ago.”

“Till five months ago.” Steve agreed.

“Now all you need are some glasses and you’ll look like a proper little nerd.” Eddie jokes, leaning his head onto his palms. Steve stares at him blankly and he falters. “What?”

“I do have glasses.”

“Huh.”

“I don’t really wear them because they slide off my head super easily but I still have them.”

Steve in glasses steve in glasses steve in glasses steve in GLASSES.

“Are they uh-“

He balls on of his hands into a fist and coughs into it. “-You have them with you?” Steve leans forward, upper half off the bed to grab something from his bag and Eddie forces himself to watch as he unzips the bag, and not at the spot where his borrowed shirt rides up on his back.

He brings out two plastic cases, and flicks the larger one open.

Inside is a pair of slightly thicker framed square glasses, and he pulls them out, slides them onto his face and looks at Eddie.

The metalhead crosses his legs and puts his hands in his lap. “You uh, look good man.”

“Thanks.” Almost as if on cue the pair shift on his nose and slide down a bit. The younger huffs.

Eddie reaches out and grabs them, putting them on his own face without much fight from Steve. He blinks. “Holy shit man, you’re blind. How do you live without these?”

“Contacts.” He states, opens the other case and starts poking at his eye.

“Ew.” Eddie slams his eyes shut. “Get something to keep the glasses on, thats nasty.”

“Hold on, I’m almost done then you can open your eyes.” After a second, he feels the frames lifting off his nose, and feels a pat on his back.

“There.”

He opens them, and stares.

Takes it all in. Not just the glasses like he had earlier, the cropped Deep Purple shirt he’d let him borrow, a sliver of the bat bites peeking out from the bottom. The shorts he was wearing were the ones that Eddie knew he use to wear to basketball practice.

Definitely not because he watched the practices, no, it’s because Steve told him. Obviously.

The socks he were wearing were tube socks, and what kind of monster wore long socks to bed?

Despite that, he grinned.

“What? What’s that look on your face?” Steve asked, brows furrowed and nose crinkled but there was a smile on his face. He could see the braces.

“You’re such a nerd.” Eddie states.

“You’re one to talk, freak.” It’s not said with malice, and Steve flicks his knee as he says it.

Eddie leans into his side, feels unexplainably warm. “That’s king of freaks to you, Harrington.”

“Yeah yeah, whatever floats your boat, freak.”

#maybe eddie just focusing on one part of steve and not realizing things #maybe its the hair #maybe #stranger things #steve harrington #eddie munson #steddie #eddie munson x steve harrington #steve harrington x eddie munson #stranger things ficlet #steddie ficlet #crisisinverted17

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thesassypadawan · 5 months

Text

Relaxing (Hayden x FemReader)

Summary: Hayden’s been working out hard to get that Daddy Vader bod once more and boy does it show! You just want to help him ‘relax’ after a long day of bulking up and what better way than a nice, steamy, hot shower.

Warnings: 18+ (minors dni), because there sooo much of the smut. Size difference, shower sex, and Hayden’s big dick.

Notes: Thank you so much to everyone who enjoyed my first Hayden fic, Puck Slut! Again, I would love to know what you all thought of this...if you would possibly like to see more Hayden fics!!! Also, this pic got me going feral af!

- You know Hayden has been working out hard, bulking himself up to fill out that Vader suit again, and you want to help him ‘relax’. So, when you hear the shower turn on, you decide just how you’re going to do it.

- Quickly stripping down, you slip inside the steamy bathroom. Quietly approaching the steamed up glass door, you knock softly. “Hay,” you call his name sweetly.

- “Yeah, angel? Did you need…” He begins to say, but trails off when he opens the door and sees you standing there in all your naked glory.

- “Room for one more?” You ask cutely, trying to act all innocent.

- A sly smile crosses his handsome face. “Always.” And he effortlessly tugs you inside. A small squeak escapes you.

- Wrapping his strong arms around your waist, he pulls you under the warm spray of water. Lips pressing to yours in a sensual kiss. “Well, this certainly is a nice surprise.”

- Kissing him back just as passionately, you giggle mischievously against his lips. “Oh, this is only the beginning.”

- You place your hands on his toned chest and gently back him against the wall. Pausing a moment, you take him all in. His shoulders have broadened. Neck has thickened, along with his middle. Arms now heavy with bulging muscles. His v-line is more defined. And his cock…

- “What is it, baby?” Hay chuckles, breaking you out of your trance.

- You can’t help but bite your lip. “You’re just so damn sexy.”

- Trailing your hands down his body, you drop to your knees. Gazing up at him, you press a tender kiss to his tip. “Since you’ve been working out so hard…I was thinking I could maybe help you ‘relax’ a little.”

- Lazily lapping at his impressive length, making your big man shiver. You reach up and give his firm ass a hard squeeze. “Sound good?”

- “Yes,” he mutters breathlessly. Large hands tangling in your hair. Fat head brushing your lips, asking for entry into your mouth.

- Happily, you take his tip in; slowly sucking, his hips buck forward. Your hands massage and play with his heavy balls.

- You slide his colossal cock in as deep as possible, using your hand to pump the rest. Trying your best not to gag as you move your head back and forth.

- “Such a tease,” Hayden groans. Thrusting further in; hitting the back of your throat, tears prickle the corners of your eyes. Oh, how you love the pleasant burn.

- Just as you think he’s nearing his end, he pulls out. A string of saliva still connecting your lips to his head.

- Pulling you back up onto your feet, you give him a confused look. “There’s more than one way you can help me ‘relax’,” he whispers in your ear as he leans down.

- Hay easily whirls your around, pressing your front to the shower wall. Laying soft kisses up your spin, his hands groping your breasts. Pinching your pert nipples.

- Moaning, you arch you back into him. He wraps an arm around your waist and gives you a gentle tug. “On your tip toes, angel.”

- You give him an eager nod and, despite doing as he says, Hayden still has to bend slightly to line himself up with your entrance. Such a big boy.

- Pushing his hips forward, he slides his throbbing cock inside of you. A groan escaping him. “So tight.” You flutter around him, making him do it once more.

- You brace yourself against the wall as he begins to pound into your pussy. His face buried in your neck, nipping and biting at the sensitive skin. All the while whispering how well you’re taking him; how good you’re gripping his cock.

- You feel your peak fast approaching as he hits your cervix over and over. The thought of him bruising it makes you whimper, your whole body tensing up. “Haaay, I’m gonna… I’m gonna…”

- “Me too,” he growls. Slamming hard into you one last time, you both cry out. You gush all over his cock, he paints your walls white with his cum.

- Easing you back down onto your feet, he pulls you back against his chest. Resting his head on top of yours; he wraps his arms around you, swallowing up your entire form.

- Giggling, you press a kiss to the bottom of his jaw. “Relaxing, huh?”

- “Very,” Hayden chuckles. “Think I’ll add it my post workout routine.”

#hayden christensen #hayden christensen x reader #hayden christensen fanfiction #hayden christensen smut #anakin skywalker #anakin #anakin skywalker x reader #anakin x reader #star wars anakin #sw anakin #anakin smut #anakin fanfiction #anakin skywalker fanfiction #star wars #star wars fanfiction #star wars prequels #star wars smut

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tasteracha · 1 year

Text

bite me.

a/n: you give in to the urge to bite minho, and quickly learn why that wasn’t a good idea.

warnings: contains smut - MINORS DNI. pet names, reader is called good girl, orgasm denial

the first time you do it, it’s really because you can’t resist the urge. you’ve been thinking about it lately, about biting his skin outside of leaving hickeys all over him just because you can. he’s sitting with you, your body curled up around his side as he reads a novel with gold rimmed glasses on his face and -

you can’t stop yourself from sinking your teeth into his bicep, the part you can reach right under the sleeve of the tight workout t-shirt he’s been in for the past few hours.

he looks at you with a side eye, quirking a brow at you as if he was amused. he very well could be, you’re sure you make quite the vision with your teeth still locked into his skin as you drool a bit. he goes back to his reading once you detach yourself and go back to playing games on your phone, and that was that.

except, it wasn’t.

it hits you again when you’re grocery shopping for dinner, right in the middle of the dairy aisle while he internally debates which non-dairy milk would make the best sauce for the pasta he’s chosen to make. he looks so cute, pretty lips pursed into a pout shrouded under the hood he has pulled up over his head, small tufts of hair peeking out around his eyes. you’re already standing so close, your head is practically over his shoulder and you lean in a little more and let your teeth latch onto his muscle. you mostly get a mouthful of hoodie material, so you bite just a little bit harder and he yelps a little, shuddering under you.

you let the material leave your mouth, spitting out bits of lint and frowning at the dryness. he looks at you as if to say it’s your own fault, and you stick your tongue out at him.

“really?” he says, his face stern but his tone teasing. “in public?”

“mm,” you admire the wet patch you left on his shoulder. “couldn’t help it.”

it’s his own fault he’s so biteable, is what you don’t say.

the last straw breaks when you’re washing dishes together after dinner. he’s soaping and you’re drying, and he’s teasing you with small flicks of water in your direction every time you turn. you retaliate by swatting him with a towel several times until he takes it from you and says he’ll finish it up himself if you’re going to be silly.

silly. as if he didn’t start it in the first place.

you resort to wrapping your arms around his waist from behind as he works, enjoying the flex of his abs whenever he has to scrub particularly hard at a certain spot. his neck is right there though, and you can’t be blamed for the way your mouth moves to bite at the vein there. this isn’t the first time you’ve bitten him today, but it is the first time he reacts to it.

he turns abruptly, ripping himself out of your arms as he calmly dries his hands with the towel you were using to swipe his ass earlier. he puts it down, stalking towards you like a predator.

“so you want to be playful tonight, kitten?” he says as he backs you up against the counter behind you. his hands come to brace either side of you. trapping you in place, and you’re mesmerized by the way the veins pop in his forearms. his eyes are dark, hooded and almost dangerous, and you can feel your own pulse skyrocket. “bad kitties get punished, you know that right?”

if he were a cat, his claws would certainly be out.

he dips in for a kiss, looming over you and making you arch your back to keep up with him. it’s deep, dirty, his tongue is prodding at your bottom lip and you can’t do anything else but let him in. his hands move to your waist, fingers digging in just right and he bends down a bit to hike you up onto the counter and you moan into his mouth and take his bottom lip between your teeth and -

he stops.

a whine claws out from the back of your throat and you stare at him in annoyance.

“you just can’t stop, can you?” he says, clicking his tongue while he looks at you in pity. his voice is sharp and mocking and it sends flames licking up your spine. “pretty baby can’t even control herself.”

oh. you bit him, again?

“in front of me.” he orders, guiding your body away from the counter to lean against his, your back flush against his chest. you can feel his hard-on against your ass, but he makes no move to do anything about it.

you gulp - it’s sinking in that this does not bode well for you.

he pushes his hands under your shirt, hands smoothing their way up your stomach to reach your breasts. he fondles your breasts a bit, pushing out a moan from you and you tip your head back to rest against him.

without warning, he pinches both of your nipples hard, making you gasp and double over. or, you try, but his strong arms keep you locked into place while he unrelentingly squeezes your skin between his fingers. it burns, the sensation taking over your entire body, making your eyes roll back.

“feels good?” his voice is dark and low and sickly sweet, right in your ear. you moan in response, squirming to get away. he squeezes harder when you don’t answer, and tears begin to prick in your eyes. “i asked you a question, didn’t i?”

“y-yes!” you push out, salty tears slipping out when he relents and lets go, rubbing at your stomach in an apology. your breath is trembling and your legs are shaking, and his touch grounds you as you calm down.

“are you going to be good now?” he says, hands drifting down towards your waistband. your breath hitches as you nod; it’s his way of asking are you okay? should we keep going? do you want to stop? “that’s my good girl.”

he nuzzles your neck with his nose as he pushes your pants down, fingertips creeping into your panties. his other arm comes up to wrap around your chest, and you reach up to grip at his forearm.

he starts slowly, parting your folds and sneaking his digits inside, the wetness you’ve accumulated helping them slide along your clit. you breathe out a moan when he circles around it in teasing circles, the pressure light against you.

“f-faster,” you croak, voice hoarse, “harder.”

you’re surprised when he actually listens. his fingers almost flutter with how quickly they work you, and with how turned on you’ve been since this started you’re close already. you clutch harder at his arm, moving it down and it brushes against your nipples, still sore and sensitive from his brutal treatment earlier. the feeling sends you over the edge, and you’re riding out the waves of pleasure and grinding down against his hand as they crescendo. you breathe harshly, waiting for him to stop moving his fingers so you could relax and bask in the afterglow of your orgasm.

except, he doesn’t stop. he keeps going, with more fervor than before, fingers moving to dip inside of you and curl into your heat at a brutal pace. he knows exactly where to move his fingers, knows the contours of your body better than anyone: a blessing and a curse. you can almost feel the smirk he’s wearing against your neck before he sinks his teeth into your neck.

you’re shaking in overstimulation, the feeling almost too much, on the edge of painful, until it slowly morphs back into burning pleasure. you’re panting against his skin, nails digging into his arm as you hold on for dear life. you don’t feel any part of your body that he isn’t touching, can’t feel how hard you’re holding onto him, can’t feel your bare feet on the floor. you feel your high coming up again, too much too soon, the lack of control leaving you reeling as he takes what he wants from you.

until he stops. again.

“no!” you cry out, slumping against him as the waves of pleasure weaned back. you let out a sob, utterly confused and desperate, in need of something. he slaps your pussy lightly, one, two, three times, punching cries out of you with every strike.

“oh, baby,” he croons, “you didn’t think your punishment was done, did you?”

#stray kids smut #skz smut #stray kids imagines #stray kids drabbles #lee know smut #lee minho smut #stray kids fluff

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tadpolesonalgae · 6 months

Text

Soft!dom!Cassian x reader: On the strategy board[*]

A/N: I didn’t even try with that title, did I? Straight to the point.

Warnings: reader steps through the door after a week long mission and they’re practically on top of one another, sex,,,on the strategy board

Word Count: 2,522

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The scent of home wraps around you, baggage sliding from your shoulders as you allow it to seep into your lungs. Put its hands all over you and infuse itself into your clothes.

Bones are practically aching for him already, having subconsciously blocked off your needs while you were on your week-long mission to make it more bearable. But now it’s all flooding back—a week without your mate. And it’s hitting you hard.

Hastily, you unbuckle the backpack, setting it on the table before going in search of him. You’ve half a mind to simply settle on the floor and take care of yourself right then and there. With how attuned you are to one another’s scents, he’d probably find you in a heartbeat.

You come across his study, finding him stood over his strategy board, a map encased in glass set upon its surface, tiny block carvings scattered across the detailed expanse. His large hands are braced on the edge, leaning over with his brow tight in the middle, staring at the Illyrian mountains, evidently pondering some kind of trouble they’re kicking up.

His wings remain tucked away at his back in concentration, nostrils flaring delicately before hazel keenly cuts to where you’re standing in the doorway. His eyes widen marginally before he’s easing out a deep sigh, shoulders uncoiling from tension and a smile breaks across your lips as he stalks forward. Powerful arms wrap around your waist and shoulders, pulling you into his towering figure as he buries his face in the crook of your neck, nosing at the sensitive skin, already pressing light kisses down.

“Gods I missed you,” he breathes on an exhale, palm spanning your hip, keeping you tucked into him as he takes in the familiarity of your scent. You allow it, arms greedily snaking around his waist, keeping away from his wings for the moment, pressing your cheek into the broad expanse of his shoulder. “I missed you too,” you mumble lowly, back arching as he pushes away your hair.

“What were you doing?” You ask as he begins kissing lower, nipping at your collar bones. Calculating brain switching off for a moment to relish in the feel of you against him. He groans over hot skin, biting lightly at the neckline of your top, tugging softly before managing to pull himself away, delivering you his full attention.

“They’re making trouble for me again,” he mutters out, glancing over his shoulder at the strategy board, distaste passing through strained features. Your hand cups his jaw, guiding his gaze back to you as you push up onto your tiptoes, leaning your weight into his chest. “Can I make a little trouble for you, too?”

A low growl rumbles from his throat, and something thick and hard pokes into your stomach, hips digging in as he grips you a little tighter. “You are trouble,” he counters, pulling you flush to his torso, wings cresting at his back, the sharp talons at their peaks gleaming in the daylight. “Is that a yes?” You ask, shifting so your arms lock around the back of his neck, dark hair running between your fingertips.

“Gods yes,” he groans, opening his mouth over your own.

His hot tongue dips between your lips, stroking and flicking against the roof of your mouth as he explores leisurely but with an undercurrent of haste. Hands grip a little tighter, guiding you to that strategy table, calloused palms spreading beneath your thighs as he effortlessly plucks you from the ground, wrapping your legs snug around his hips. Pressing your soft centre to the shape of his cock, straining beneath the damn Illyrian leathers.

“I’ve missed you…so much,” you mumble between kisses, gripping his hair as he tastes you, pressing between your thighs. “Good,” he grits out, raising your top up over your head, throwing it off somewhere, taking the vest with it. “Can’t have you getting tired on me now.” Thumbs graze your peaked nipples, pinching and twisting, and you moan, arcing into his rough touch.

“Cassian,” you groan, his lips moving down to your throat, sucking and biting eagerly. “I need you. Hurry up.”

The male chuckles, a deep rumble from his chest as he raises to stare at you, hazel sharp and piercing. “Who gives the orders here?” He asks rhetorically, a bit of the feared Commander shining through, heat rushing between your legs that subconsciously spread wider. Teeth push into your lower lip as he pinches at your breasts, tugging lightly. “Give me some orders then,” you mumble, ankles crossing at his back, urging him closer.

The smile he offers is soft, but there’s that half-wild pulse beating between you, the bond urging you to devour one another and relish in the intimacies afforded. “Just because I won’t spank you raw now doesn’t mean I won’t do it later,” he replies lowly, pupils dilating as he stares down at you, wings flaring at his back in seductive threat.

But you part your thighs wider, hands lowering to the straps and ties on his leathers. “I’ll be good, General,” you murmur, peering up at him as your fingers work on muscle memory alone. “Just for you.”

Cassian groans, then his mouth reopens over yours, hands fumbling with the band of your trousers, palms snaking around your back, dipping beneath the band and prying them seamlessly from your skin. He swallows your gasp greedily when the cold glass presses icily into the warmth of your bare hind, goosebumps prickling your skin as he steps away to rid you of your clothes, leaving you in the single remaining scrap, clinging to your hips.

Hazel eyes latch with your own, discarding his top, pulling it off over his back having already undone the slats for his wings. His dark, hungry gaze meets yours, not even having to tell you to lay back on the board and spread your thighs before you’re doing it on your own.

Male satisfaction glitters across his features, lips carving themselves into a cocky smirk as he stalks forward. “So obedient when you want something, sweetheart,” he murmurs, hands brushing attentively across the tops of your knees. “If it’s the best way to get it,” you respond breathlessly, needing him to take himself out already and just sink into you before you flood his strategy board.

He shakes his head, chuckling as he works himself free, watching as your eyes drop to his cock, hungry with blow-out pupils. “That mind of yours,” he remarks lowly, gripping himself almost to the point of pain, stroking himself before running through the wetness of your dripping heat. “You love this mind of mine,” you breathe, hips winding, coating him in your slick so he’ll be able to sink in deeper.

Gleaming white teeth bite into his lower lip, hissing lowly as he grinds against you, already feeling the strain and stress dissipating. It does something in his brain, to see you spread out across a map of Prythian, all hot and bothered and messy. Dripping all over his strategy board—he’ll be having you lick that up later, when he has his fist in your hair and bent over the table.

He curses lowly, pressing to your entrance before sliding home, wings shuddering with pleasure as your nails press fully into the muscle of his back. He pulls back to look at you, feeling the heat practically rolling from your body, flaring with fire beneath his touch. “How do you want it?” He breathes lowly, starving hunger dancing a twisted rhythm in his eyes, hips pressed tight to your own, now secured deep inside your hot cunt.

“Your way,” you pant, bucking against him. “Just give it to me Cass.”

He growls, a half-feral sound as his hand splays across your chest, pinning you to the glass, getting off on how your nipples peak from the cold at your back, begging for him to put his teeth over. “We can be rougher later,” he breathes, palm pressing over your sternum, putting heat into your skin. “I need you to feel me feel in here,” he groans, hand dropping to your lower abdomen, pressing lightly, feeling himself move as he draws his hips back and slides in again.

A soundless moan spills from your lips, parting into a shape that on another occasion he’d love to put you on your knees for. He’d forgotten how fuckable your mouth is. How fuckable your cunt it. How fuckable you are in general, always singing for him to take you to his bed and attend to you until you’re soft and pliable beneath his war-roughened palms.

“Did you touch yourself while you were away?” He asks, feeling the hot wetness of your cunt wrapping around him, perfectly hugging him. You manage a shake of your head, fingers dancing in small patterns across the tops of his shoulders, occasionally risking dipping down—closer to his wings.

His large palm slides up between your breasts, carefully holding your throat, directing your attention upward and away from your joining point. “Talk to me, sweetheart,” he breathes, hips moving languidly against your own. “Your voice is too pretty to be silent.”

“I— I didn’t…” you pant, clutching on as you grind against him, every sense keyed to his motions, bathing in pleasure.

Again he curses, more viciously than the last time.

A wicked grin twists the edge of his mouth. “At least your learned you lesson after last time,” he gloats lowly, cock pressing in fully, touching a spot inside of you that has you fumbling. “I’d hate to have to put you in those ties again, when you were so lovely and messy for me.”

You moan at his lewd description, heat ravishing your skin as the pace picks up a little, having you tighten around him with each time his cock brushes that spot. “Cassian,” you breathe needfully, reaching further down his back, wanting to urge him on. “Please.”

All plans in his mind are ripped to shreds with that single plea. When your scent had first drifted over to him, he’d had to take a moment to steel himself so he wouldn’t put his hands on you and fuck you into the floor the second he’d laid eyes on you. But then you’d come over to him, smelling so deliciously of arousal and distinctly like yourself he’d crumbled. Now you’re again asking for something, and he can’t find it in himself to deny you.

“Okay,” he groans, releasing you in favour of dropping his palms to your hips, pulling you back as he bucks forward. “Gotta take all of it though,” he drawls, pulse increasing as your scent thickens, arousal seeping into his lungs. “Every last drop. Can you do that for me?”

His hips roll, cock hitting that part that has you going dizzy, lips parting in soft gasps as he puts new heat into your body. Cassian chuckles, keeping the pace steady as he swipes the pad of his thumb over your clit, aching beneath his touch for stimulation, finally satiated. “S’pose it doesn’t matter, does it?” He laughs lowly, circling the sensitive bud. “You’ll take it either way.”

Your eyes nearly roll with pleasure at his words, panting and moaning for him to continue, something hot and syrupy bubbling away in the pit of your belly, having missed him so greatly. “Cass…” you breathe desperately, hands grappling for something to hold onto, feeling like you’re going to be swept away if he doesn’t let you touch him. “Cassian…”

He swears under his breath, low and viciously, releasing your hips in favour of lacing his fingers with your own, holding tight so he can buck against you properly. “That’s it sweetheart,” he groans, hazel piercing down into you. “Mm right here. You’re back now.” The words reach you on a deep sigh, coated in relief and exhaustion but you have no time to wonder what extremities he went to in order to preoccupy his busy mind.

Lips part as heat begins to coil tight, close to release from having gone so long without him, finally reunited after only a week. “Fuck, Cassian,” you cry out, head tipping back, baring your throat and chest for him as you arc from the board, disturbing a small band of warriors, sending them skating across the glass with a jerk.

“That’s it,” he grits out, “take it all. You’re back here with me again.” The demand has you releasing with a cry, nails biting into the brown, scar-flecked skin of his thick knuckles. The orgasm slams into you, taking you clean off your feet as tears build at the edges of your lashes, welling and spilling down onto the now-warm glass.

Cassian can hardly speak, staring at the arch of your spine, how well you’re taking him, the need and release lacing your body, turning you supple and taut in so many different places he hardly knows where to look. It’s enough to send him over the edge, finally allowing himself to temporarily shatter now you’ve reached your peak, free to topple over that edge with you, gripping tight.

Hot spurts of cum spill into you, so much you could swear you feel your tummy swell a little, hips dragging and bucking and grinding against you, eager to put his release deep inside of you, something primal and feral commanding him to fill you up until you’re dripping onto the glass board.

A high-pitched moan greets his ears, soft and sweet and wrapped in honey as it urges him closer to you, his powerful body curving over yours as the aftershocks fade, remaining deep inside as he kisses you thoroughly, mouth open, tongue flicking and stroking. It’s messy and not at all contained, quiet wet sounds squishing between your lips as you enjoy one another, his teeth gently nipping before soothing with his tongue.

You pant into the quiet when he pulls away, large hands cupping your cheeks as he stares down at you.

“Did I tell you I missed you?” He asks breathlessly, skin gleaming with heat, his arousal permeating the air. A wide smile stretches across your bitten, glossy lips. “I think you might’ve at some point,” you murmur, “between kissing me silly minutes within returning home and fucking me on top of your strategy board. We’ve gotten it all messy now.”

The grin he gives you is nothing short of wicked, having you tighten around him. “Cassian, no,” you murmur, trying to keep your smile to yourself. “Both of us need a shower and to clean off.”

He relents, grumbling as he pulls away, creating more of that mess as he spills out, but not before his fingers dip down, pressing it back in, shooting you a cocky look that has heat bursting all over again.

“And you had the nerve to say I was the trouble-maker,” you mutter, awkwardly shifting from the glass, trying not to create more to be cleaned up later.

“You started it,” he reminds lowly, hand squeezing your hind appreciatively. “I finished it.”

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general taglist: @myheartfollower @tcris2020 @mali22 @amygdtjhddzvb @sfhsgrad-blog @needylilgal022 @hannzoaks @hnyclover

#cassian x reader #cassian x you #cassian smut #cassian x reader smut #on the strategy board

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hazbinshusk · 15 days

Text

The heat of Husk’s body pressing against your back is just as overwhelming as the cold glass he’s holding you against, the combination a sensory overload that’s leaving you a quivering mess. Or maybe that’s the way Husk’s cock is filling you every thrust of his hips sending sparks up the length of your spine.

You moan as he buries his teeth in your shoulder, his arms banded around your middle. It forces him flush against your back, his hips humping into you with an eagerness that belays the fact that the two of you have been at it for hours. His fur is sticking to your sweat-sheened skin, his hands clutching at your breasts so possessively that he’s drawn blood, and still you need more.

Every thrust of his cock into your swollen, over-sensitized cunt makes you whimper. Your thighs are slick with a mix of sweat and cum that makes Husk growl into the skin of your neck.

He mutters sweet nothings the whole time he’s fucking you, a mix of praise and utter, affectionate degradation that makes your eyes roll back. Your fingers squeak against the glass as you brace yourself against the window, your head tilting forward to cool yourself against the heat throbbing through your whole body.

You whine as he squeezes your breasts again, your knees shaking with just the effort to stay standing. “I… I can’t…”

“C’mon, sugar,” he mutters into your throat, one hand leaving your chest to instead slide between your legs. You jerk against him, trapped by the window and unable to get away from the stimulation, and he chuckles brokenly, just as far gone as you are. “You’ve got one more in you. You can do it for me, can’t you, baby?”

“Fuck!” you clench around him, head falling back against his shoulder and your vision turns white. It’s only Husk’s hold on you that stops you from collapsing to the floor. He continues his assault on your clit despite the way your whole body shakes. “Husk, please, I can’t…”

“Be a good girl, baby,” he tells you roughly, lips against your shoulder. “Be a good girl for me, just one minute more…”

“God…” you groan, reaching back to fist your hand in the fur at the back of his head and pull him into a kiss that’s all tongue and muffled moans. Husk takes painfully tight hold of your hips and slams his cock into you until he cums with a hoarse moan of your name. “Fuck, Husk…”

“You did so good for me, baby…” he murmurs, pressing feather-light kisses to the marks he’s left on your shoulder and throat. “Such a good girl…”

Your whole body is still shaking as you finally reopen your eyes, and you feel a breathless giggle escape you as you notice the shadow the two of you are casting through the window to the ground outside. Husk’s wings are stretched wide, his body hidden behind yours as he continues his careful ministrations to your skin. Together, it looks as though the wings are yours, and you smile dizzily.

Maybe there are angels in hell after all.

#husk #husk x reader #husk posting #husk smut #hazbin hotel husk #hazbin hotel husk x reader #hazbin hotel fanfic #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel #my fic

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rae-writes · 11 months

Text

reality’s nightmare

om brothers x reader

wc : 4k (holy fuck, I did not mean to do this much-)

warnings : gore!! blood, broken bones, mangled body parts, heavy injury detail, talks of intestines/organs, there’s some fucked up imagery in this one y’all

synopsis : they say angels look beautiful when they fall, but no one talks about after they hit the ground

a/n : look, I love the scene where they’re standing before Diavolo, and it’s been mentioned that they were hurt— buuut what if we saw them bruised and broken and bleeding

…thud…

…TH-UD…

crACK-

CRACK—

C R A C K…

Bloodcurdling screams filled the house of Lamentation, instantly waking the other seven inhabitants. The screams turned into sobs as many pairs of feet slammed against the hard floor.

Rather unceremoniously, your door was nearly knocked off its hinges as each of your demons burst in the room, huddling around your bed; you were frantically kicking at the covers and hiding your face behind trembling arms.

“Mc!”

His hand reached out to caress your form gently, startling you and causing you to cry even harder as you reached out for him.

†

Lucifer holds your face in his palms like you’re made of glass, lithe fingers attempting to wipe your scalding tears in vain. He’s at a complete loss as he watches you shake like a leaf in his grasp; you were terrified, more than he’d ever seen in all his time of knowing you.

When the first born finally managed to catch your gaze, he could physically feel his heart stop. “Mc…”

Pale as a ghost and face soaked with tears, you stared at Lucifer as if you never thought you’d see him again after bidding goodnight just three hours ago. “L-Luci-”

The surrounding area was dark- eerie - though thankfully, you could clearly tell you were at the Colosseum. You took only a single step forward before something slammed into the ground with a sick crack, just a couple feet away.

Wings so black they blended into the dark atmosphere were bent wickedly, feathers astray and torn out while a few bones stuck in odd directions, having pierced straight through the flesh. Two gashes on the lowest part of its back oozed blood like a river, quickly forming a puddle underneath the body. The torso itself was turned in a position that was just wrong- no matter what being in the three realms it was.

With a hand over your mouth to try and ease the bile rising in your throat, you could feel the unnatural warmth of its blood washing over the soles of your bare feet. In an attempt to scurry backwards, you slipped, bracing your arms against the dirt before your face could be washed in it.

And only then, when you finally came within face-to-face proximity of him, did you realize who it was.

Lucifer stared back at you, brows furrowed in pain and lips- blood dribbling past- curled into a grimace.

You broke into a fresh round of sobs- the broken and hoarse kind that made your chest throb- and pulled your boyfriend closer. Your movement was so rushed and unexpected, Lucifer toppled over right on top of you.

His arms caught him, but he was essentially unable to push himself up as your hands had come around his back, fingertips pressing almost harshly into the skin where his wings would normally be. “My love?”

“Show me.”

“I’m afraid I don’t quite understand-”

“Show me your wings!” words desperate and eyes frantic, you were truly starting to make him panic, “Please…” your fingers grasped the shiny feathers hesitantly; you thought they’d break or tear— Lucifer could tell.

He was confused and worried and honestly, his hands were beginning to shakily ball up your cover as he listened to you whisper in relief about how ‘they’re not broken…’

“I’m alright, Mc, I promise. My wings are alright. You’re alright.” Just what did you dream of to make you like…this? To say something like that?

You kept one hand in the middle of his four wings and the other at the base of his back where the other pair have been long since ripped out. “Can we stay like this?”

“For as long as you need.”

†

Upon seeing your frightened state, Mammon was frantic himself, hands grasping at your waist to pull you against him instead of the wall, “It’s me, Mc! It’s me, baby, it’s me!” He lets your hands grip his forearms as tight as you need, not paying much attention to the pressure in favor of trying to keep eye contact.

“Mam..mon?” the disbelief you seemed to be in sent his heart clenching, especially when you ran your palms along his bare skin, moving up and up until you were under his sleeves, grasping at his shoulders, “Mammon!”

The pained yelp that echoed in the air made you jump, head whipping around to find the source through the darkness. Calling out in vain, your feet took you in a random direction before you tripped. With hands stretching out to feel around, you felt a trembling form that didn’t quite seem…right.

What looked like they could’ve been arms at some point in time were crushed, bleeding, mangled limbs. Almost every bone was on the outside, tearing through its skin like paper. Elbows inverted, wrists twisted forward and back, fingers snapped in every other direction. Even some of its fingernails were ripped or cracked. Shoulder blades so out of place, it was hard to tell what they were supposed to be. Collar bones not where they were meant to be— one was completely shattered and it showed through the skin. Almost the entire upper portion of the chest was barely recognizable.

His face was, though. His gorgeous face, head dripping with blood and staining the ends of his snowy hair, features pulled into a heart-wrenching grimace.

“Mammon…” your hands squeezed and prodded every part of his arms, starting at the shoulders you'd dug crescent moons into- not missing his collar bones that were peeking from his sleep shirt.

He watched you examine him, pulling you closer every time you choked back a sob. “‘S me, baby, whatsa matter? You’re making your pretty eyes all swollen…”

“Hold me— just hold me. Need t’feel your arms around me…”

Ignoring the mumbled ‘in one piece’, Mammon wrapped his arms around you tightly without another word. He’ll chase away…whatever it was that scared you. He won’t leave.

“I won’t leave. Promise. ‘M right here.”

†

Oh, Levi’s eyes began watering as soon as he heard your sobbing, bursting out into tears right alongside you when he finally saw your scared form. Lacking his usual shyness, his hands curl around yours and uncover your face like you’d normally do to him.

“Mc…m-my Henry…” he didn’t know what to do or say but he knew that the way you peered up at him- like you’d seen a ghost- makes him want to curl up and die.

From the moment you heard the first shrill cry, you knew undoubtedly that it was your Levi. Without questions, you scrambled to your feet and took off sprinting despite being unable to see much, shouting his name with urgency.

Stopping to catch your breath, you froze when fingers wrapped around your ankle, turning to look at what’d grabbed you. A scream left your throat at the sight.

Crushed legs were dragging against the dirt, oozing blood and being speared with what looked like every leg bone there was. The left leg was bent out of place at the hip with the knee inverted while the right foot was twisted completely backwards, femur snapped and sticking out of the thigh. Flesh had torn where the bones caught on the ground— wide gashes that were as long as your forearm. It was horrifying.

Even more horrifying when your sweet boyfriend had blood pouring out of his mouth as he sobbed, still dragging his mangled body along, begging for help.

Levi flinched when you began pushing him back, mouth opening to spew out apologies when they were cut short as he watched you settle between his legs, arms hooking under his thighs to pull them even tighter against you.

You nuzzled your head against one of his knees, “Don’t go anywhere, Leviathan…stay- stay with me, don’t leave.” Your fingers dug into his sweatpants absentmindedly.

Levi was completely floored with how much terror filled your voice and he found himself wrapping his tail around your midsection to try and assure you that, “I’m never leaving. Y-you can’t get r-rid of me, now!”

…just what happened to you exactly? And did he really want to find out, given how genuinely terrified it made you— the bravest person he knows. Levi didn’t know just yet, but he did know that he’d stay with you for as long as you wanted him to.

†

Satan clutches both your ankles softly to keep you from hurting yourself, kissing at your calves when you stop thrashing. He’d never seen you in such a state and if he hadn’t trained himself over the centuries, he would’ve gone into a rage to find out who or what did this to you.

“I’m here, darling, try to calm down now. Shhh, love, listen to my heartbeat- here.” The way you clutched at him like he’d disappear…

“Tannie?”

You could barely see three feet in front of your face, shown by the way you stumbled and tripped your way through the dark. A loud, horrifying sound reaches your ears at the same time a liquid splashes across your face. It’s warm- running down your face disgustingly, but the sight in front of you…

Something had been impaled on a spiked rock; the jagged tip was coated in a dark substance— the same substance that nearly formed an ocean underneath the figure. It was pouring from the giant hole now in their chest area and the position had the rest of their body curved backwards. Not wanting to talk about the similar dark shapes you saw strewed about- knowing very well they were probably organs and intestines- you grip its twitching fingers cautiously, following the stream of blood down, down, down…until it reaches its face. His face. Satan’s face. His eyes are popped wide, clearly numb to the severe pain he should’ve been feeling.

Choking back a scream, you cradle the back of his head, lifting it up so he can swallow better as he finally begins to thrash and scream. Begs to stop go unheard and you’re forced to listen to the vile sounds of his chest ripping and tearing and blood gushing, screaming yourself when it soaks the entire lower half of your body.

“Yeah, it’s Tannie.” He doesn’t mention the grip you have on his shirt, nor does he say anything about the way you push yourself harder against his left side.

You tap your finger along to the beat of his heart- the rhythm is strong and steady. Alive. “Satan…”

He watches you smooth your hand over his chest, “Yes, love?” Frowning, he wipes at the corner of your eyes, not wanting you to cry anymore.

You say nothing at first, instead choosing to curl up closer. There’s an edge to the air before you give a nearly inaudible, “Don’t leave.”

Satan relaxes, if only for your comfort. “Never.” He needs to know what caused you so much torment— for now, though, he will be with you for as long as you need.

†

Asmo chooses to scramble around gathering water, a warm washcloth, and spritzing a light soothing scent on his clothes before he’s clamoring in your bed. He gingerly wipes down your face, whispering about swollen eyes and how much salt is in tears; he’s just trying his best to divert your attention.

But you’re still hysterical, eyes unable to stop shedding tears even as he’s wiping them away. Your hands snake up his jaw, pressing down and smoothing across the skin until your breath stutters and you simply can’t let out audible cries anymore.

Running around in the dark wasn’t such a good idea, especially now that you’re sprawled on the ground with your head throbbing from how hard you hit it. The lumpy dirt is uncomfortably irritating, but before you can move, you hear shrill crying as something comes slamming into the ground a couple feet beside you.

Nearly inaudible whimpers left it as it just laid there, body and wings twitching sporadically. Slowly, with sick cracking sounds following, it’s head turned to the side- facing right at you. His jaw was hanging, knocked out of place, and visibly broken. Teeth were fractured or missing entirely, mouth ripped one one side and lips punctured with holes from his teeth...his tongue was hanging by only a couple of muscles, nearly severed from the force of the fall— he must’ve bit it as he was screaming. There was blood pouring onto the ground underneath him, coating what was left of his lower face and splashed into his eyes, all the way up to his forehead.

You couldn’t even scream as you watched Asmo’s body convulse with choked sounds, eyes refusing to close even as an acidic taste started to make its way up your throat before you were forced to lift your upper body and retch out the contents of your stomach.

Shakily, almost like you were scared he’d fall apart, you place a kiss to his cheekbone, trailing down his jaw until you reach the corner of his mouth. “Azzy..I love you.”

You were now officially scaring Asmo, but he kept his cool nonetheless. “I love you more, hun! How about we go take a relaxing bath before trying to sleep again? Sounds good, hm?”

Briefly, your fingers pressed down harder where you were caressing his jaw before letting up. “Mhm.” You wrapped your arms around his neck like a child, not wanting him to go too far. “Sleep with you.”

“Yeah, you can sleep with me. My sheets will be good for your skin!” While his words were chipper, there wasn’t a single trace of a smile on his face; why was this happening to you? What happened to you?…what did you see?

“I love you, Mc. You don’t have to worry about anything else.”

†

Even though he knows everyone is worried, Beel shoves to the front with the sole intention of protecting you. You’ve curled yourself into a ball, but he just lifts you into his arms and pulls you in close.

At the familiar warmth of your boyfriend, your eyes snap up to see his worried smile and the only thing you can manage to do is rest your forehead against his with a choked cry of his name.

Your knees were scraped and bleeding from all the times you’ve tripped in the dark, so you were walking slowly, inching forward until your foot came in contact with something soft. Crouching down, you squinted at the orange color and rubbed the soft tufts between your fingers before your eyes finally adjusted.

It was Beel. He was curled on his right side, peeks of bone showing from where he landed. His eyes were swimming with blood, upper face drenched with it from where it streamed out of his head- he’d cracked his skull straight across his forehead. His neck was bent in an odd direction- probably twisted before hitting the ground- and more blood bubbled out of his mouth the longer he thrashed his head and tried to speak.

When he reached a trembling hand out, you finally took notice of Belphie lying beside him; the sob that ripped from your throat was guttural when the younger started crying out in Beel’s stead.

“I’m here, Mc. It’s okay now, I won’t let anything happen to you.”

You didn’t have the heart or the bearings to tell him that you were afraid of something happening to him again, instead choosing to just bury your face in his neck and sob harder. The cries only increased in pitch when you felt him move, “Don’t go! Don’t leave me, stay, don’t leave me, please…”

He’d only shifted to scoot further back, but his heart was absolutely breaking at the state of you. “Always, Mc.” Laying down, he tucked you into his right side, frowning at the thought of something causing you this much anguish. “I’ll stay with you always…I might have to carry you with me to the kitchen later tonight, though…sorry.”

†

When he finally manages to shove everyone out of the way, Belphie caresses your cheeks, dipping his fingers into the flesh softly as he forces you to look at him. “Look at me. No, no, at me.”

Your brows are furrowed, breaths coming out quick and short, “Bel…” you cradled his face even softer than he was yours, “My Belphegor…”

The sharp pebbles and uneven ground irritated your palms and knees as you crawled, trying to make your way around in the dark with little injury. You staggered when your hand slipped in something warm, flailing before bumping into what the warmth was coming from. You’d slipped in blood.

It was a trembling, bleeding lump on the ground, curled into a half fetal position on its left side. The arm that it landed on was completely bent backwards at the shoulder, fingers twitching with the pain they must’ve been feeling. A few rib bones punctured the abdomen, causing a tearing sound when they moved too much. There’s a large crack on the left side of the skull, which is where most of the blood is pouring from; through the streaked blood, where he’d probably tried to rub it away, you could see Belphie’s face. Tears had washed the blood from his eyes into his mouth where he kept having to spit it out onto the dirt in order to keep crying out for help.

With a start, you easily recognized what- or who- he was clutching onto desperately to be Beel. The way they were curled around one another…your tears mixed with the blood pooling into the dirt, hands making their way through the disgusting mud puddle it created to grab at his injured hand.

“Your Belphegor, ‘m your belphie-” he dragged you in closer, tucking you securely against his left side, “Wanna tell your Bel what’s the matter? Nightmare?”

Pushing the nauseous feeling down- and the distinct feeling that you knew it wasn’t a nightmare, that it was real- you shook your head in denial. It was such a poor lie that you couldn’t help but wince into his shoulder, but he didn't say anything.

He just pulled you in tighter and tighter until your breaths were practically his. “Told you to sleep with me. Nothing stands a chance against the avatar of sloth in this department.” Belphie relaxed when his rambling made you laugh, “Not gonna let anything haunt you like this again.”

It was real, it was real, it was real. “Okay…I love you, Bel.”

Lucifer fell backwards out of the heavens; the first to fall and the first to hit the ground (he watched his brothers fall with him— heard the vile sounds of each one of them hitting hell's earth). Though various emotions clouded his mind, he still had the wit intact to try and maneuver himself before crashing, though that made it much worse. Half twisted before his landing, his torso remained twisted, ribs shattered and internal organs pierced with bone. His back, despite his best efforts, is what had the most contact with the ground- broken at every vertebrae. Feathery wings now black fluttered uselessly against his will, shocked with the pain of having been torched, torn, broken, and pierced by their own bones. Lucifer had always been the one that hid his pain best out of the six, so he grits his teeth and twists his torso back into place and gets up because he needs to get to his family.

In an attempt to reach out for his brother, Mammon fell through the clouds with his arms stretched out, eyes never straying from the view in front of him, not even when Lucifer’s body hit the ground and he knew he was about to be next. He caught himself, or tried to, instantly snapping his wrists and sending a domino effect throughout his arms; each bone and joint cracking, shooting sharp pains straight to his head. Even his shoulders had been knocked horrendously out of place, so the only way he managed to get upright was the frantic flapping of his wings. Broken, kneeling on shaking legs, the sight of his mutilated arms made his stomach churn and bile rise. The acidic feeling has him retching miserably, yet even so, he spits out as much of the taste as he can and stands, hellbent on finding his family even if his arms are useless.

With his throat closing up from panic at having the ground beneath him crumble and break, Levi falls through feet first, head lifted to watch the heavens grow farther and farther, arms scrambling in vain to grab at something. In this frantic state, he never saw the end of his fall coming- he only felt the white hot pain cracking through his lower limbs- heard his bones shattering and snapping apart. His hands are clutching at dirt, choke sobs wrecking through his frame because he can’t feel his legs anymore. His brain is only registering the throb of pierced skin, veins, and arteries. The drag against the ground makes the pain worse, but he can’t find it in his hysterical self to stop pulling his body along, arms shaking under the strain as he attempts to seek out one of his brothers for help.

Opposite of his…’creator’, Satan fell backwards amongst the clouds, head tilted towards the ground as it got closer and closer. His eyes closed in anticipation of the impact, expecting his skull to get crushed, but they quickly shot open at the gutting sensation in his abdomen. Blonde hair tickled the rocks beneath him, head still lolled backwards with no energy to lift it, making the blood dripping from his mouth stream into his eyes. He’d been impaled on a spiked boulder, sending a numbing tingle throughout his entire body; the only moving parts of him were the shocked blinking of his eyes, bobbing of his adam’s apple as he tried to swallow his own blood, and the occasional twitch of his fingertips. Once the numbness made its way to his throat, he began to panic, blindly moving his sluggish limbs in an attempt to get free. The struggle irritated his wound, making more and more blood gush until there was a whole ocean of it underneath him- at some point, he lost the ability to move at all, and the only thing he could do was let out curdling screams until someone found him.

Asmo fell in a daze, not really processing the situation until he saw ink black washing over his ivory wings. He suddenly screamed, hands rubbing over the shedding feathers like somehow he could stop them from blowing away with the wind. Watching all the feathers burned down into four smooth, leathery wings, he was completely hysterical as the reality of the situation sunk in. When he couldn’t bear to look at what he was becoming anymore, he cast his teary eyes in front of him, breath getting stolen from his throat when his jaw met the ground, shattering instantly upon impact. The rest of his body hurdled against the dirt and he just laid there, too shocked with pain to even really feel it. The tang of copper crawled up his throat, spilling out of his mouth, but the only thing he could do was let out choked whimpers, hoping someone could hear.

As his throat constricted until he could barely breathe, heart thumping sporadically after ‘letting’ his sister be shot, Beel fell clutching his twin against his chest. He promised he wouldn’t let go, but the momentum made him lose his grip anyway, sending Beel further into panic. He never got the chance to wonder about the end of their fall- he was too busy trying to reach his brother again- but he felt it. The shock of pain blooming where he landed on his right side, the feeling of organs being pierced by bone. He desperately wanted to lift his head to see if the other was still beside him, but his eyes were covered with blood from his cracked skull. He whimpers out his twin’s name, flinching when someone grabs his ankle before frantically reaching out with his left arm to grab onto Belphegor’s ankle— he wanted to shout out, but he couldn’t find the energy to speak. Instead he had to listen to Belphie cry out for someone to save them.

Belphie fell screaming, hands grasping onto his twin with frantic desperation after having watched his sister get shot with an arrow. The wind blowing past them was grating against his ears, further panicking him when his grip began slipping the faster gravity dragged them down. As soon as they broke apart, they were scrambling to reach each other again, and he didn’t notice the sight of the ground coming closer until they crashed into it. He fell on his left side, arm and leg getting crushed under the shocking weight, ribs cracking, and head knocking against the dirt so hard it made his vision blur and skull break open. In this position, he was facing Beelzebub’s feet, like they were Yin and Yang. He uses his right arm to reach out for his twin again, gripping onto his uninjured leg tightly, voice coming out cracked as he assured his brother it’d be okay before crying out for one of the others to please come save them.

#obey me x reader #om x reader #lucifer x reader #om lucifer #mammon x reader #om mammon #leviathan x reader #om levi #satan x reader #om satan #asmodeus x reader #asmo x reader #om asmodeus #beelzebub x reader #beel x reader #om beel #belphegor x reader #belphie x reader #om belphegor

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anonymouspuzzler · 10 months

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silly little doodle page i've been chipping away at the past few months! what if Habits in an Outfits...

[Full image description under cut!]

Image ID: A full page, black-and-white, digital ink drawing of Boris Habit from the game Smile For Me, wearing various outfits. There is an off-white paper texture in the background. Going roughly clockwise from the top left corner, the drawings are as follows:

A full-body drawing with an outfit consisting of a knee-length dress with a pointed collar and pleated skirt, a loose striped tie, a long open coat with a pointed collar and trim along the collar and inner edges, knee-length socks, Mary Jane style shoes, and a beret with a pom-pom. Habit's hair is tied up in a loose bun, with his bangs loose. He is smiling and looking off to the side, posing with one arm to the side and the other holding up a lily, one leg crossed over the other as if mid-twirl.

A half-body drawing (from roughly hips up) with an outfit consisting of dark pants, a turtleneck sweater with a large lily flower and stem embroidered on the front, and a kitted hat with a large pom-pom. Habit's hair is loose under the hat and he is standing with his hands in his pockets, looking off to the side with a casual expression.

A half-body drawing (from roughly hips up) with an outfit consisting of dark pants and a sheer, long-sleeved blouse with a frilly collar and cuffs, and embroidered daisies patterned all over. Habit's hair is down and has a flower tucked behind one ear. He stands with his hands braced in front of him as if leaning against a counter or table, and he is looking off to the side and winking with a goofy grin.

A half-body drawing (from roughly stomach up) with an outfit consisting of a low-cut shirt, a dark collared blazer, and a long simple scarf. Habit's hair is also braided, with the bangs loose. A bit of chest hair is visible over the collar of the shirt. There is wind blowing in his face, sending the braid and scarf blowing back behind him. He is braced against the wind with his eyes closed and a big goofy grin with his tongue sticking out.

Two three-quarters-body drawings (from roughly knees up) showing the same outfit from the front and back. The front view shows Habit leaning back as if sitting on a surface, with a wink and goofy grin with his tongue sticking out. He is wearing jeans and a t-shirt with a large, sideways winking emoticon printed on the front. His hair is down. The back view shows him standing with left arm to his side, pulling his hair over his right shoulder, revealing the same shirt with a sideways surprised emoticon printed on the back.

A half-body drawing (from roughly hips up) with an outfit consisting of a blouse with elbow-length sleeves and a Peter Pan-style collar with scalloped trim, a loose, sleeveless flower-pattern top over it, round sunglasses, and a large floppy sunhat with flowers lining the brim. Habit's hair is loose under the hat, and his mouth is open as if in the middle of talking. He has one hand roughly at his hip, and the other is holding up a glass with an icy drink and a little paper umbrella decoration.

A three-quarters-body drawing (from roughly knees up) with an outfit consisting of a sleeveless collared blouse, jeans, a belt with a square buckle, and a small ascot tied around Habit's neck. His hair is tied in a ponytail while his bangs are loose. His hands are held behind his back and he looks off to the side with his mouth slightly open, as if in the middle of talking.

A half-body drawing (from roughly stomach up) with an outfit consisting of a frilly, off-the-shoulder, flower-patterned blouse that is tied into a bow on the back. Habit is slouched forward over a table or counter with his head peeking out over his folded, hairy arms, with his loose hair spilling forward. He is looking up curiously, sticking his tongue out.

A three-quarters-body drawing (from roughly knees up) with an outfit consisting of jeans and a printed sweatshirt with a graphic of a football, reading above the graphic "FOOPBALL", and below, "AMERICA'S SPORNT". Habit's hair is tied back in a ponytail with his bangs loose. He is giving double thumbs-up and has a silly expression with dot eyes and a big, open-mouthed smile.

A half-body drawing (from roughly stomach up) with an outfit consisting of a dark, baggy top slipping off Habit's shoulder, as seen from behind. Habit's hair is tied up in a big, sloppy bun with the bangs loose, and he has very light, patchy stubble on his face. He is looking off to the side with a sleepy expression, as if he's just woken up.

A full-body drawing with an outfit consisting of a long, open coat with thick frilly trim along all the edges, a low-cut top tucked into flower-patterned bell-bottom pants, and chunky platform boots. Habit's hair is tied up in a messy bun with the bangs loose, and he is wearing round sunglasses. A bit of chest hair is visible over the edge of the low-cut top. His legs are crossed and one arm is swinging behind him as if he's in the middle of dancing, and he is smiling wide with a little cat-mouth grin.

A small drawing of the puppet Habit. He is seen from behind with his hair tied in a ponytail, looking up and smiling wide.

A three-quarters-body drawing (from roughly thighs up) with an outfit consisting of very short, roughly cropped jorts and a similarly roughly-cropped tank top reading "HAIRY JEWISH GUY HOOTERS", with the last word being the Hooters restaurant logo. Habit's hair is down and quite a bit of body hair is visible on his arms, tummy, and chest. He is posing with one hand on his hip and the other in a V-sign, leaning forwards, with a silly expression with dot eyes and a big, open-mouthed smile.

A full-body drawing (from roughly ankles up) with an outfit consisting of denim overalls with cuffed legs, and a ringer-neck t-shirt with cuffed sleeves. Habit's hair is tied back in a ponytail and he looks off to the side with a neutral expression, standing with one hand at his side and the other at his hip.

A full-body drawing (from roughly ankles up) with an outfit consisting of roughly-cropped jorts and a spaghetti-strap tank top. Habit's hair is tied up in a ponytail, and he is also wearing simple round stud earrings. He is seen from behind mid-walk, one hand on his hip, leaning his head back to look over his shoulder with a big smile.

A small drawing of the puppet Habit. He is sitting on the ground with his hands splayed at his sides, wearing round sunglasses with frames that makes them resemble flowers.

End ID.

#anonymous puzzler art #smile for me #long post /#(just for the image description under cut but just in case since tumblr can be Silly)#tw suggestive #not to much but again just ta be safe LOL #walk walk fashion baby!!!

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inazuman · 2 years

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i gave you that necklace because i love you!!!

Content and warnings: hawks x f!reader smut, reader is fembodied, goes by she/her, and is referred to as a woman. yandere hawks, possible dark content. he mind controls you and gets off on it. dom!hawks, sub!reader, teasing. toys, possible semi-public sex (you fuck in his glass office but no one is around), oral (f receiving), creampie, some plot but not really. pet names: hawks calls you dove. Words: 3475 A/N: this was initially part of my kinktober 2022 but it was late!!

Hawks cannot believe how well his plan went.

After nights of flying to the roof across your apartment, days of dropping his feather in your bag so he could track you, a friend from hero support gave him something special. He gave you, his trusting little secretary, a necklace as a gift, and asked that you never take it off. Though a little confused, you thanked him and complied with no complaint.

He was shocked, filled with the glee that comes from events being followed through perfectly. Because at the back was a clasp the shape of a circle, which connects itself to the bottom of your skull, to the brain stem.

After three days, Keigo sent just one piece of information to your brain. Like good mind control equipment, the thought isn’t loud in your head, but like a suggestion, a subtle change to you and your environment. First, was the sudden growing warmth of your body, which quickly subsided after a few minutes.

After another two days, it was the sensitivity of your breasts. You could feel the material of your bra brushing against your nipples more acutely than usual. A little forward of him, but to your naivety, you shook it off.

After another day, already addicted to your reactions and knowing it’s him that causes it, he causes you to feel slick in the middle of the day. Keigo watches through his glass wall at the way your eyes widen, your thighs pressing together. You grip the table for a moment and take deep breaths, then quickly resume back to your work.

Since then, he activates the device for a few minutes every few hours of your day. It gets more frequent, more intense. You excuse yourself to the bathroom more often to clean yourself up, sometimes touch yourself. You can barely wait to go home, to finally be in the comfort of your bed so that you can take the vibrator out of your drawer. You wake up in the middle of the night, heart beating fast and thighs shut tight.

It’s Keigo who sits in his own home, touching himself and forcing you to feel that arousal, almost as punishment for making him think about you. He imagines your tight skirt, undoing the buttons of your shirt… He fists his cock at 2AM in the morning and thinks, “she should feel it too”.

Finally, he can’t take it. He sits at his desk again in the morning, playing with the device and thinking to himself, “How far can this thing go?”. He plants the suggestion for you to work late tonight, despite how aroused you are. That you suddenly feel you must take care of the work that’s piled up from you leaving early the last few weeks.

He watches you, from his floor-to-ceiling glass walls. Watches as every staff member leaves and bids you goodbye. Watches as your thighs clench and you bite your lip, trying to focus on the screen. You even go to unbutton the top button of your shirt, to relieve yourself from the heat your body is making.

As the lights get darker in the office, leaving just his and yours, he inputs one last suggestion: Ask Hawks for help.

It enters your mind, and he knows immediately what you’re ‘thinking’. For help from him on the situation. The situation that has you having less and less good orgasms. That can’t just be satisfied by your vibrator.

He pretends that he doesn’t see it in the corner of his eye, the way your legs are wobbling as you stand, the way you brace yourself for every possible response he could have, your deep breaths before you open the door.

“H-,” you clear your throat, “Hawks-san-”

“Please, I’ve said before, call me Keigo.” His smile is bright, easy-going. It makes it easier for you to say what you want to say, but doesn’t make it any less nerve-wracking.

“I- um. I know that you’ve told me… to come to you. If I, ah, if I need anything at all? Even if it’s strange?”

He lets you finish your sentence, relishes in the way you struggle to speak, your face flushed with arousal, your embarrassment.

“Of course. I’m here for you, with whatever you need.”

“Well, um…,” you shift your weight either side of your feet. “I’m having… problems.”

“Oh, what sort of problems?” He can hardly contain his smile, resting his chin against his hand.

“It’s… I’m having trouble, ah, feeling good?”

“Feeling good? What do you mean?” His feigned innocence is artful, and for a moment, he considers whether he should’ve been an actor instead.

“Ah, please… Please feel free to say no! I don’t want to feel like I’m pressuring you, or you have to help me.”

He laughs. “I know my boundaries, dove. I won’t just abide by you.” His wink makes you shy.

“I-I’ve been very, a-aroused lately… I don’t know what came over me! It just happened, and I can’t make it go away… And I don’t know what to do.”

Your eyes on the ground make you fail to notice his dark smirk, his all-knowing gaze, and his mind running wild with what he wants to do to you.

“Of course I’ll help you, little dove.” Your head swishes up, eyes bright.

“Really? Thank you, Keigo-san!”

“Just Keigo is fine, darling.” He rolls his chair back, gesturing to you. “Come stand here.”

“H-Here? In the office?”

His head tilts. “Wouldn’t you like your help right now?”

“But… anyone could come in and see.”

“No one’s gonna come to the office at this time,” he chuckles, “who wants to work on a Friday at 10PM?”

You hesitate for a moment, but under the thick fog of your arousal, and the slick you can feel still dripping from your core, you step forward. Letting him eye you up and down, you fiddle your fingers in the silence.

“You’re real pretty. You know that, doll?” He leans back, and your eyes for a moment go to his thick thighs spread across the chair, big hands against his armrest.

Keigo brings his chair right up to you, your body is trapped between his legs, no running from him. He brings his hands to the outside of your legs, just under your skirt.

“You sure you want this?” He asks, and his cologne is intoxicating, his minty breath, you can feel the warmth of his skin against yours. You don’t know why it’s him, but your body aches for him, wants him, needs him.

“Yes, please Keigo, I want this. I want you.”

He smiles wide, lets his hands run up and down your legs. “Good girl.”

He slides your skirt down your body slowly. Your panties are only in view for a moment, before your shirt falls to hide it, but Keigo sees clearly the way it sticks to you, the dampened material making his mouth water. You step out of the skirt that’s pooled to the floor, kicking it to the side.

Your now-bare thighs are for his perusal, warm skin under his calloused hands. He moves his hands up and down, thumbs brushing against your inner thigh so teasingly that almost has you begging.

“Mm, little dove… how long have you been having this problem for? Hmm?” He presses his thumb on the junction of your inner thigh. “You’re soaked.”

He knows. Knows that he’s embarrassing you, that the way your hands play with your buttons and you can’t bare to look at him is because he got you here, wet and waiting for him.

“I-,” you don’t have the words to explain what came over you when you don’t even know. Is it something to do with your period cycle? Just your body demanding things?

You stop thinking as he raises his hands to the top of your shirt, unbuttoning just enough so that only one button holds your sanity, and prevents you from possibly being seen half-naked by someone.

When your head turns back to check, he immediately brings it back forward forcibly. “Shh, dove. No one’s gonna see, yeah? I’ll make sure of it.” His hands bunch your shirt up higher, and he whistles low. “You wear this pretty lingerie for me?”

You gulp, his hands on your skin feel like heaven, his breath over your clothed cunt feels like you’re so close to relief and so far at the same time. “Keigo…” you breath, your hands still gripping the edge of the table tight. He decides to be nice, doesn’t make you say it, and instead presses a kiss against your clothed cunt. He dHe decides

You inhale sharply, you want to touch him, you want to touch him so bad, but he hasn’t said you can, and you don’t know why you know you shouldn’t? Hawks is smiling at the fact that you’re such a good girl for not, that you follow orders so easily. He likes you like this, all obedient, no matter how it happened. He rewards you for it, pulls your panties down and they land on the floor with a plop. He lifts you slightly so you’re sitting on the edge of the table, forces you to spread your legs with his hands.

“What a pretty pussy,” he chuckles low, watching your slick dripping from your pussy to the table and onto the floor. “You’re making a mess.”

“I’m sorry,” you whine, flustered.

He smirks, but doesn’t comment further, diving into your pussy, a loud, broken mouth eliciting from your mouth. And this is what he’s been waiting for, to have you pliant underneath him, begging for his touch and tongue.

You can’t even hold yourself up anymore, back falling slowly onto the expanse of the table, thighs shaking despite it having been only maybe a minute that he’s been between your legs. The pleasure of your wrung-out arousal borders on pain, your core throbbing against his tongue. And he can feel it, feel the way your clit pulses under nis tongue. You’re so wet that the slick he can’t swallow down drips down his chin, down to the floor.

“Keigo! Feels so good, so good,” and he knows, that any stimulation that isn’t from your own hands or toys must feel like heaven right now. That his strong tongue lapping your folds intensively is the product of his own greed for you. His plan worked perfectly. He revels it when your back arches at a swirl he does against your clit, the pants and gasps of your breath fogging up the glass walls.

You get to the edge much quicker than you expect, your thighs tensing, the band inside of you tightening. Your body is hot, hands begging for reprieve against Hawks’ table. All you can think is you should’ve asked him sooner, that you knew he was so willing to help you, so good at it, you would’ve been able to have this daysago. This growing arousal inside of you, your mind going blank as his stubble brushes against your inner thighs, his hair falling against you. Your senses are acute and you wanna cum so bad.

“I-Can I? Can I come? Please, please Keigo, I wanna come, I-,”

“Mm, of course, dove, I’m here to help.” his mouth moves over your cunt, tongue only stopping for the moments he’s speaking. The pressure on your sensitive bundle of nerves increases, he coaxes the orgasm out of you, like he knows exactly what you need.

And you cum, you come hard, the intensity wracks your brain and there’s nothing but his tongue against your cunt and the pressure inside of you releasing. Your whole body tenses, a series of sobs and whines coming out of your mouth at the satisfaction.

He watches you, carefully, wants to watch more, but he knows he needs to use this opportunity. When your eyes are still closed from the aftershocks of your orgasm, he quickly inputs another suggestion. That you’re desperate for his cock, that you want nothing but to be filled by him.

After another minute, your thighs relax and your eyes widen. You grab him in a way he doesn’t expect, pulling his pants towards you and feverishly unbuttoning them.

“Whoa, dove,” he presses his hands to your thighs, “we got time, just relax.”

“I-I need it, I need you so bad. Wan’ your cock in me now,” your babbles are plenty and he chuckles, letting you bring your hand inside his pants and watching as you freeze, hand wrapped around his clothed cock.

He’s big, you know it as you squeeze him, you nervously bring your hand against his pubic hair and into his underwear. It’s so big that even after all the prep and how wet you are, in the back of your mind, you’re a little worried about taking it. But you take it out anyways, bending down and bringing your mouth over it.

He moans, deep and dark, and to you, it’s the hottest sound in the world. His hands go to your hair, pressing your mouth down and pulling your haair back up, your tongue lathering over him has him thrusting into your mouth.

You only do so for a few minutes before he’s bringing you up to lie down on the table, spreading your legs around his wide figure.

“Thought you wanted my cock inside of you, dove?” His gold eyes take in your whole body under him, the rise and fall of your chest, your hair a mess behind your head.

“Yeah, K-Keigo, I want… want your cock,” your smile is delirious, and he takes the opportunity to make his visual better, unclasping your bra and pulling it down your chest.

“Keigo, please. ‘Want you now, please just fuck me.” The timid, soft secretary is gone. You no longer care about if people walk in, if anyone sees you. The only thing in your brain is his cock, to have him, to be fucked by him and filled by him.

He made you like this, the thought making him harder as he presses the head of his cock against your cunt, watching the way it opens up for him as he teases you. Your usually-anxious work-filled mind is blank because of the device around your neck, the one that keeps him in control without you knowing about it. And he’s grateful, especially as he slides into you and you moan wantonly under him, that the woman he’s been wanting for months is now wetter than he has ever seen in his life. The woman who he’s seen get flired with by other staff, that he’s watched tighten her thighs underneath her desk, is now begging him for his cock.

“Keigo, mm, so full,” you’re grabbing onto him, on his hands, his arms.

“Your pussy is so good, dove.” It’s thrilling, to hear your boss so vocal. “‘S so tight around me. Suckin’ me in.” His deep voice makes you slick up his cock even more, tightening up around him as he brings a thumb over your nipple.

“Best pussy I’ve ever had. Oh, that’s it. Sing for me as I fuck this cunt.” His cock enters you slowly, his hands over your breasts distracting you from the careful line of pleasure and pain that you balance on. It takes minutes for him to fully sheathe himself inside, the head of him pressing against your cervix makes you see stars. He moans deep, chestreverberating as his balls slap against your ass, fingers gripping your thighs tight.

“’m gonna fuck you like you’ve been begging for, dove. Gonna make sure you can’t live without this cock.” He mumbles it against your neck before he starts to slam into you, your screams echoing against the walls with the slap of skin and sweat.

“What a good fuckin’ cocksleeve, so fucking warm. I should make this cunt milk me every fuckin’ day. Would ya like that, dove?” His cock feels like it’s carving into your pussy, like he’s the last cock that you’ll ever take, like it’s made for him. You can barely respond with a “yes” and “please”, moaning wantonly, head hanging off the other side of the table before he pulls you back towards him. You’re helpless underneath him, your hands flail, grabbing on to both him and the table. Your slick spurts from the impact against your thighs.

“Oh! Keigo, Keigo, it’s so big, so good,” your mind and words jumble together, not sure what you’re thinking and what you’re saying or both. He responds to it, fingers spreading around either side of his cock to gather the wetness, before tapping on your clit. Your body reels towards him, the pleasure both too intense and not enough. The words coming out of your mouth just become a series of “ah-ah” and “please” and “Keigo!”. And listening to your voice just gets him harder, makes his hips smack against your thighs harder. The sick feeling of knowing he created this outcome for himself, that he’s fully in control makes sweat drip down his back.

You don’t know, but he’s waiting for it. Because he knows one of the first commands he’s ever implemented in your little, pliant mind. That your orgasms around his cock are the best you’ll ever have. That nothing will ever compare to it.

He cements his need in your life. Your pussy squeezes around him hard, puts him right on the edge too, but he holds on. Because he wants to feel you.

“Come around me, dove. I know you can do it.” His thumb runs circles around your clit, your slick making it easy and slippery. You feel the way your thighs tighten, your heartbeat rapid in your chest.

You squeeze him for all he’s worth, he moans in tandem with you, gripping you so hard to stop himself from cumming but you don’t seem to notice, head thrown back and in ecstasy, your mouth open in a silent scream. The orgasm wracks through you, from your core to the rest of your body, everything tensing. It’s never been like this before, not with your vibrator or anyone else. It’s like every nerve in your body explodes in pleasure.

It lasts minutes, you don’t move, you don’t even know if you breathe properly. He chuckles above you, slowly continuing to fuck you in and out, his fingers never leaving your clit. Your pussy is a vice around him, making him hiss as he rides out your pleasure, your body jolting under him.

When you come down, the first thing you notice is your hands gripping his arms so tight. Your body finally relaxes, taking deep breaths in. Only your heart rate in your ears slows down very little, which is when you realize he’s still going, fingertips tapping your clit. You try to scream, but it comes out small, a little noise that doesn’t compare to the slap of skin and the dirty noise of your cum moving with his cock. You try to tell him, you try so hard but it just comes out in babbles of nonsense, your arms trying to get his attention with the little energy you have.

The only response you get is him moving his hand from your clit to your thigh, pushing both legs back to either side of your ears. And you don’t know when you’ve been this flexible, but in the malleability of your body and mind, it’s somehow possible.

You didn’t know he was holding back, don’t realize how much he was focusing on your pleasure until he starts fucking you harder and faster than before. Your moans are uncontrollable, your mouth open for any sound. Your mind only knows the feeling of overstimulation, of his cock continuing to press into your raw cunt and cervix. You have no control under him, he presses your legs down until he slides once-twice- into you and then he comes, a beautiful moan coming out of him as he paints your walls white.

He slowly pushes in and out of you until he’s fully spent, aware of the sweat surrounding both of you. He almost collapses on the chair behind him, relaxing and basking in his afterglow.

“That was…” your tongue is dry in your mouth, “amazing.”

“Yeah, dove?” His response is surrounded by deep breaths, his hands going to your pussy and pressing them together and apart until he watches his pearly white cum drip slowly out of you.

“Ohh, fuck,” he almost gets hard again at the sight, but decides he doesn’t want to drain you too much. After all, he’s always got control of you now.

And even if he doesn’t? Well, he’ll find another way.

thank you for reading! masterlist

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lale-txt · 2 years

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♡ taking care of them when they have a fever ➳ w/ Kid, Mihawk & Rayleigh

a/n: i… i fought Tumblr text editor so long and hard for this and it‘s still a mess oh my god. anyway enjoy those silly little headcanons, i love putting those lads into ✨situations✨

Kid

simply the worst patient you can ever imagine <3

when falling sick, he goes through the five stages of grief several times a day

denial: „i am not sick, what the fuck are you talking about“, he asks with a runny nose and face almost as bright red as his hair, beads of sweat running down his temples, barely able to stand up straight

Killer and you just exchange a look and brace yourself for what‘s coming next

anger: ever saw a tulip explode? now you will

don‘t mind the claw marks on the ground when Killer drags Kid by one leg to bed while the captain combusts and grunts out curses you‘ve never heard before

lots of shouting and yelling and middle fingers being raised with the last bit of energy he has left before you watch Killer pull out some wrestling moves to get the tulip into bed. it‘s like watching two grizzlies fight

feel free to join but be prepared to get bitten in the ass

bargaining: so Kid is in bed, blanket pulled up to his nose, breathing heavily

it‘s when it all sinks in. the realization that maybe he should have covered up those honkers when visiting that winter island. Kid was a South Blue child after all, not used to the cold

don‘t disturb him during that phase, just enjoy the silence while he ponders on every life choice he made that led him here

depression: that‘s when he will call you and the other crew members into his cabin one by one despite you telling him he‘ll just spread his germs that way, but Kid doesn‘t care. he feels like he‘s dying from that common cold and he needs to tell everyone his last words

don‘t flinch when he clutches his metal fist around your hand and rattles something about how he doesn‘t mind when you fall in love again after he dies, but preferably with Killer because then he‘ll know from heaven (or hell) that you‘re in good hands (followed by an hour long monologue on why Killer is the greatest man ever existing)

acceptance: so Kid realized he might not die today but his throat is still sore and all the yelling probably didn‘t make it any better

bring him some tea, tuck him in and kiss his forehead, he‘ll pass out in a minute and the whole thing will repeat a few more times on his way to recovery

Kid is gonna act like none of this has happened once he is back to his old self but he‘ll still make sure to pull you into a hug and mumble a Thank You against your skin, followed by making up for all the kisses he couldn‘t give you during that time

Mihawk

have you ever tried giving your pet any kind of medicine? it was bad, wasn‘t it? then good luck with this man because he is worse

it‘s hard to imagine that someone as perfect as Mihawk could fall sick with a fever, but here you are, standing with a glass of water and painkillers in your hands next to him while he‘s passed out on the couch

„get those away from me“, he mumbles like a dying peasant who is confronted with his own mortality in the face of a common cold

even with his strength being robbed he is still much stronger than you, using this fact to his advantage (by rolling over flat on his stomach, face down, so you can‘t hold the glass of water against his lips)

give him five minutes for some frustrated groaning until he admits his defeat and finally reaches for the things in your hands

brace yourself for a silent staring duel when he asks for a glass of red wine to wash down the painkillers

he‘s lucky that you‘re in love so madly and deeply with him and have all the patience in the world to bear with him, knowing well he would pamper you too if you ever fell sick (you remembered how he pulled out a whole first aid kit as if he was ready to perform emergency surgery when you cut your finger slightly once while cooking together)

Mihawk would hate the fact that you see him in such a weak state but deep down he is still happy to have you by his side during his darkest hours

he‘ll have a few fever dreams and will be startled, probably panting something about his crops and how he gotta look after them

just gently push him back down by his shoulders and calm him down by telling him that you watered the garden and that the tomatoes are looking plump and ripe and ready for harvesting once he‘s back to full health

he‘ll ask you to read him from his favorite romance novels before he drifts back to sleep

Mihawk will cook you the fanciest dinner to show you his gratitude for nursing him back to health, including the most expensive bottle of red wine and kitchen dances together

Rayleigh

„you‘re burning up, Ray.“

you look at him worried, hands on his cheek and forehead to feel his temperature

Rayleigh just sighs, pushes his glasses up his hair, pinches the bridge of his nose and accepts his defeat

the Dark King knows that there‘s a limit on how much you can push a sick body and that the only cure is rest

after all, he had watched Roger struggle during his illness when no one else was watching; it made him realize that every action has its toll and us humans are fragile little things

he will do his best to not make you worry, after everything he‘s been through at his age a simple cold won‘t take him out

sure, he will try to send you home so he doesn‘t pass on the fever to you, but you insist on staying by his side — after all it was „in sickness and in health“ what you vowed to

a fact that earns you a lot of forehead kisses and the inevitable fate that you‘ll be down with a fever as well a few days later (where Rayleigh will take care of you as well, of course)

he is an easy patient on his best behaviour, drinking up the tea you brewed for him and staying in bed with the newspaper and some card games (since he can‘t go gambling)

Rayleigh will hum and lean deep into your touch when you run him a bath and wash his hair, your fingers massaging every bit of tension out of him

knowing you can‘t resist his charm he‘ll ask you to join him in the bath tub. just do it. the old man is needy and a little cold won‘t stop him from using his hands to return a little favor…

Rayleigh is a restless man, never one for settling down completely or staying in one place for too long, but those days in bed together are surprisingly nice and help him to recover quickly, thanks to your committed care

countless kisses on your skin show you his gratitude and blur the line between heat and fever…

#eustass kid x reader #mihawk x reader #rayleigh x reader #one piece x reader #one piece x you #eustass kid #dracule mihawk #silvers rayleigh #dracule mihawk x reader #silvers rayleigh x reader #one piece headcanons #one piece fluff #one piece reader insert

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bakugotrashpanda · 7 months

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Bakugou x F!Reader, Demon!Dabi x F!Reader Word Count: 3.4k

!!: sex, noncon, virginity, fingering, oral, spanking, ‘good girl’

A/N: And to round out kinktober 2023, something more than 100 words

Is there a word for bad miracles?

Stairs creak under your feet. A small gust of wind swirls around you and makes every hair on your body stand on end. Your boyfriend shines his flashlight around the dark foyer, highlighting the furniture covered with musty tarps. Whoever lived out here clearly thought they were coming back… until they didn’t.

“Katsuki,” you whisper, “Why did we have to come out here?”

“Don’t tell me you’re afraid now,” Bakugou scoffs.

You watch the flashlight beam sweep across a corner laced with cobwebs. “It’s… creepy.”

“Come on,” he says and keeps climbing the staircase. “I got a surprise for you upstairs.”

“I swear to god if you’re trying to scare me.”

From the top of the stairs, the flashlight turns on you and illuminates your face. “Remember when we first started dating? Your profile said you liked adventure.”

“Yeah,” you cross your arms over your chest. “Hiking and shit, not abandoned houses.”

“C’mon, you’ll like it. I promise.” He walks down the hall, and when an eerie feeling settles over you from being alone, you run up the last couple steps to catch up to him.

Bakugou turns a door knob. You brace yourself for one of his friends to pop out from behind and scare the shit out of you. He walks in, and you take a hesitant step forward. Warm, soft lights come on.

Peering in, you let out a soft ‘oh’ before relaxing. In the middle of the room is a neatly made bed covered in rose petals. You recognize the plush comforter from Bakugou’s closet back at his apartment. The man in question walks around the room lighting white votive candles – some in equally small, carved pumpkins and others in glass holders.

“Not so scary now, is it?”

“Katsuki,” a blush crawls up your cheeks. “Did you do all this?”

“Well I sure as shit didn’t let anyone else do it.” He lights the last candle before walking over to you and wrapping his arms around you.

“Why not a hotel or something?” you blurt out.

“Really?” he raises an eyebrow. “You’re going to nag about where I chose to go?”

“It’s just that it’s so romantic and everything else about the house is… not.”

“Our anniversary is Halloween. I’m sticking with the fucking theme.”

“We could’ve gone to an amusement park-” you start to protest.

Bakugou’s brows furrow together. “Why’re you stalling?”

“What?”

“You’re stalling.”

“I-”

“Damn it,” Bakugou runs a hand through his hair. “Kirishima was right, this was stupid. You hate it.”

“Katsuki, I don’t hate it, but there’s a bed in the middle of the room! And you know I’m saving myself for…” Your voice trails off. Saying it outloud, here, in the abandoned house, makes it seem so childish.

Bakugou’s rough thumb strokes your cheek. “I know you’re saving yourself for marriage. Which is why-” he slowly sinks down to his knee and pulls out a small velvet box. “-I was hoping you would say yes to marrying me.”

“Oh my god!” You slap a hand over your mouth. Through the tears welling up in your eyes, you can barely make out Bakugou’s hopeful expression as he waits with bated breath for your answer. Nodding, you hold out your left hand and let him slide the ring on with shaky fingers. “Yes, oh god, yes!”

You pull Bakugou to his feet and stare at the ring, a new comfortable weight on your finger. “I’m still waiting until we’re married,” you choke out as he wipes away the tears.”

“Don’t remind me,” he groans and pulls you close. “But there’s other things we can do here.” His lips press against yours. You relax into it, your body softening against his.

It starts as a distant rumble, something you could pass off as a car in the distance. But when the lights start to flicker and the house shakes, you and Bakugou break apart. An earthquake? Right now? Bakugou grabs your hand and mutters something about needing to leave before the place falls in on itself.

Black smoke swirls from floor to ceiling in front of the two of you and all the air in the room is sucked in by the vortex. Bakugou’s arm stiffens under your vice like grip. When the smoke falls away, a man with jet black hair stands where the vortex was. Scarred skin covers a majority of his arms and upper part of his torso, but what stands out against that are his unsettling turquoise eyes that seem to glow from within.

“Mortals,” a gravelly voice snarls, “You dare to disturb my resting place?”

The more you stare, the less… human the man seems – if you can even call him a human. His ears, pierced with silver, are elongated and pointed, almost like one of the aliens from a sci-fi show Bakugou had you watch. And is it your imagination, or are there puffs of smoke escaping his body where scarred and unscarred skin meet?

But the cherry on top, the features that make all the alarm bells ring in your head, are a pair of white horns standing out against his dark hair.

“Back the fuck off.” Bakugou puts his arm out protectively in front of you — as if that would protect you from whatever the fuck this thing is.

“And what are you going to do about it?” the man sneers. With a flick of his clawed fingers, Bakugou flies away from you and slams into the wall. Hands splayed, he scrabbles to find purchase as he slides upwards.

“Let him go!” you scream, “Please! Let-”

As you take a step forward, Bakugou coughs, his words strained. “Get outta here.”

“Katsuki, no, I can’t leave you here!”

“Get. Help.” That jumpstarts something in your brain. Help. Right. Help. You don’t even get one step when the door slams closed. You freeze like a deer in headlights. The demon – you decide this as your mind catches up with the last thirty seconds, it’s the only thing that makes sense – turns his attention to you. He raises his other hand and you brace yourself to fly against the wall like Bakugou had.

“Hell, what is that scent. I haven’t smelled this since…” He trails off. Inhaling deeply, his eyes burn bright, an ethereal blue you can’t stop staring at. “A virgin.”

Bakugou lashes against his invisible restraints, but you remain rooted to the spot.

A virgin.

“You. You’re my ticket out of this shithole.” He stalks around the room. Turquoise eyes glow with excitement and rove up and down your body. “A virgin sacrifice will get me out of here.”

“If you’re going to kill me, get it over with.” Kill you? Where are these words coming from? You don’t want to fucking die here! You certainly can’t fight this thing. Now is not the time to find false confidence.

“Kill you?” His sharp laugh grates your skin like broken glass. “Why would I kill you when I could have my way with you?”

Blood drains from your face, leaving you lightheaded. “Have your way with me?”

“I intend to take your virginity, babe,” he smirks, “I’m outta here if I fuck you.”

“Fuck me?”

“Beelzebub below, are you dating a parrot or a woman?” the demon laughs at Bakugou. Turning to face you, all humor leaves the demon’s face. He makes a zipping motion with his fingers. “If all you’re gonna do is repeat what I say, then I don’t want to hear a single sound come out of you.”

Maybe it’s fear, maybe it’s demonic power, but one way or another you’re paralyzed as the demon walks over to you. He drags one of his claws down your cheek and hooks it at the top of your shirt. Acrid smoke fills the air as his finger cuts away your clothes. Your shirt and bra — a black lace specially picked out for Bakugou — fall to the floor, leaving your tits exposed to the cool air of the room. Your pants and panties follow suit and you close your eyes as both the demon and Bakugou drink in your naked form.

Sharp nails drag across your skin as he circles you – thankfully painless and leaving no cuts like he did your clothes. The demon’s hand cups one of your breasts as if appraising it before trailing down your stomach and across your ass.

This can’t be happening.

He’s talking, but it’s not to you, and you tune him out.

Please, please. Someone help us.

Bakugou struggles against the wall and the demon cackles before slinging more taunts.

If there is a god out there, please help me.

The demon’s hand smacks your ass with a satisfying smack. Silent tears roll down your cheek.

No one will come and save you.

Your head is viciously jerked to the side and you can make out the demon’s face inches from your own through your tearstained vision.

“I said,” he says softly, “Let’s give your precious boyfriend a show.” His hand slithers down your stomach and parts your folds. You shudder against his touch.

No. No, no, no, no.

His fingers graze your clit, sending a bolt of electricity to your core. Bile rises in your throat.

Please god no. Don’t let him touch me. This is humiliating enough.

There’s a chuckle in your ear. The demon presses a finger against your entrance and slowly eases in. Your mouth opens in a silent sob. He teases you, strokes your walls with a ‘come hither’ motion.

You hate that you can feel him writhing around inside you. You hate that he’s gone farther than Bakugou ever had. But most of all, you hate that you can feel yourself loosening up for him; getting wetter for him.

A second finger slides in. Bakugou glares at the demon but doesn’t look away. Can he not look away? Is he stuck watching you get fucked against your will?

A forked tongue wraps around the demon's fingers when he drags them out of you and holds them up for Bakugou to see – clear strings of arousal lapped up.

“Have you even tasted her?” he taunts, “She’s divine.” Bakugou’s gaze flits from you to the demon, his cheeks turning beet red. There’s no retort from him.

With a wave of the demon’s hand, the bed in the middle of the room slides closer to Bakugou. The demon takes your hand and leads you over.

A front row seat to your first time. Rose petals flutter around you as you bounce onto the bed. The bed Katsuki prepared. Your legs are knocked apart, and you watch in silent horror as the demon strokes his cock mere inches from you.

“Watch, mortal, as I take your girlfriend’s fucking virginity.” His glowing eyes turn back to you. The head of his cock presses against your entrance. You don’t want this. You were saving yourself for the man you planned on marrying. You were saving yourself for Katsuki. And now he has to watch this.

You should be embarrassed.

You should feel shame.

You should feel anything except… needy arousal.

You can’t even look away as he pushes in. Your voice may be gone, but you inhale sharply as his cock splits you open. It’s not what you thought it would be. There’s no pain, no uncomfortable tearing sensation; just a stretching that leaves you dazed and overwhelmed.

“Fuck,” the demon hisses, “I forgot how good virgins are.” Large hands wrap around your waist and pull you further down on his cock. You bite your lower lip. Maybe the pain can distract you from how your blood is roaring inside you.

It’s not until he’s buried all the way inside you that his eyes flash a brilliant blue. He holds you against him, his mouth slightly agape. His whisper barely reaches your ears. You wouldn’t have known he was talking if you weren’t watching his mouth move.

“I’m free.”

You lay on your back unmoving. If he’s free then he could leave. He could walk out of the house and leave you and Bakugou alone. This nightmare could end.

“You fucked her, now let her go!” Bakugou’s shout causes the demon’s blissful peace to crumple into a snarl.

“Your pretty lady set me free, the least I can do is give her a good fuck to remember me by,” he smirks. His hands slide up the back of your legs and hook under your knees. Pushing them towards your chest, he leans in, somehow pressing deeper into you. Your breath hitches and your mouth falls open.

Shit.

If you had your voice, you know a needy moan would’ve filled the room.

All that leaves your mouth though is a sharp exhale. But he knows. He heard. You close your eyes to school your features. The moment you open them, his eyes, blazing with desire, are locked on yours.

He knows.

There’s an intimacy that brings a blush to your face as he fucks you slowly, his eyes still holding your gaze. Neither of you can look away. His cock kisses your cervix and when you think it can’t get any better, he shifts slightly, changing the angle. The demon leans in, his tongue licking a stripe up the column of your neck

“You taste so good, babe. I can taste your fucking arousal. If I give you back your voice, will you be a good girl for me?” His teeth graze your skin, sending shivers down your skin. You nod, slowly at first – like the way the demon thrusts into you – then more emphatically as he speeds up.

“I want you screaming my name,” he murmurs in your ear, “I want to hear you screaming for Dabi.” His lips lock on yours, his tongue pressing against your lips. You can’t even pretend to put up a fight; you spread your lips and meet his tongue in the middle.

A trail of spit connects his mouth to yours when he pulls back.

“Say my name.”

“Dabi,” you croon with a worn out voice. You’re rewarded with the entire length of his dick pulling out and pushing back into you.

“Again.”

You say his name louder.

Each iteration louder than the last is rewarded with a torturously slow thrust.

But you need more. You squirm beneath him, angling your hips, anything to entice him to fuck faster. And the fucker has the audacity to slow down.

“C’mere, Princess.” Dabi wraps his arms around you, pulling you close and rolls the two of you over. “I want to see these lovely tits of yours bouncing.” You arch your back as his claws trail down your back and settle at your waist. He lifts you up and down his cock, helping you get a rhythm before you take over.

The pressure building in your core has you bouncing frantically on him – you’d felt it before when you used toys and your fingers to bring yourself pleasure, but this is something more. Something toe curling. Something that has you digging your fingers into his forearms. His dick is able to hit the right places you could never get, barely satiating a newfound need deep within you.

“Hold on, Princess,” Dabi groans and effortlessly holds you above him, the tip of his cock barely inside you. You whimper at the loss of contact and try to fight his grip. “I want this to last as long as possible, so take a seat up here.”

Apparently your dumbfounded expression is hilarious since he starts laughing.

“Up here, babe.” His tongue flicks out between a scarred bottom lip and an unscarred upper lip. When you still look unsure, he hauls you up and settles your legs on either side of his face. He trails kisses up your inner thigh, each one inching closer to your core.

“Don’t worry, babe, I won’t break.”

He locks your legs against his face and you have no choice but to seat yourself against his mouth.

He has you gasping the moment his tongue flicks out. Your hands run through his hair as he laps at you, each stroke adding to your overwhelming passion. Grabbing onto hair and horn – really whatever is within your grasp, you pull yourself against him and spread your legs further.

A chorus of ‘please’ and ‘more’ fall from your lips like a desperate prayer as Dabi’s tongue swirls around your sensitive nerves.

It’s not until you lean back so his tongue can delve inside you that you feel guilt. Crimson eyes locked onto you in disbelief silences your intoxicated begging. He might as well have poured ice water over you.

You forgot about him.

You forgot your fiance was pinned to the wall, watching you enjoy a demon’s cock.

Every moment, every sound forever etched into his mind as you stopped fighting and gave in to temptation.

A sharp nip on your inner thigh brings you back to Dabi. You tear your gaze away and pull back to see the forked tongue you were enjoying so much laving the pinpricks left from his teeth.

“As much as I want you to come on my tongue, I’d rather have you creaming on my cock.”

He rolls you off his face and onto your back.

Obediently, you spread your legs, one hand creeping down to continue where he left off. The buzz running throughout your body increases with every enticing swirl of your fingers around your clit.

“I want to come, Dabi,” you mewl.

He laughs, the sound no longer shards of glass against your skin. “How can I refuse since you asked so nicely.”

He sinks inside you with a single stroke and you wrap your legs around his hips. Dabi’s fingers swat your hand away before taking over, his hand possessively splayed over your mound as his thumb works on your clit. Your hands twist in the comforter and rose petals as you drown in impending pleasure.

“Who does this cunt belong to?” Dabi growls.

“You,” you whisper.

Correct, but not enough. There’s no rewarding thrust of his dick.

“Who?” He raises an eyebrow. You know what he wants. You’re teetering on the precipice of orgasm, and every second he’s not fucking you, the feeling slips ever so slightly.

“You, Dabi!” You clench around him, desperate to keep your high. A clawed hand digs into your waist slightly and pulls you flush against him.

“Who’s the only one you’re going to fuck?” he hisses, turquoise eyes narrowing.

“You, Dabi!” you wail, the electric feeling building up, almost uncontainable. “I belong to you!”

“Good girl,” he growls and fucks into you again, “Come for me.” His words – his permission – wash over you and release the pent up feeling. Your orgasm rips through you, an intensity you’ve never felt before. No toy or even your own fingers could compare – would compare ever again.

Dabi’s hips smack against your own once, twice more before pressing flush against you. Heat pools in your lower abdomen and you can feel his cock twitching inside you. A part of you wonders if sex is always like this, but an even smaller part of you knows that it’ll only be this good when you’re with Dabi.

He untangles from you and leans over, panting slightly. He presses a surprisingly chaste kiss to your cheek before his lips ghost over your skin to your ear.

“Left you a parting gift, Princess,” he purrs, “If you ever want to see me again, just look in a mirror and say my name three times.”

The bedroom door flies open and Dabi looks your blissed out form over one last time before walking out.

When the front door slams closed, Bakugou is released and falls to the floor. He rushes to you, his hands clenching and unclenching as he hovers at the edge of the bed. Worry pushes his brows together.

All he can do is watch.

It’s up to you to break the silence.

“I’m sorry, Katsuki,” you pant, “I said I was saving myself for the person I was going to marry.”

One Week Later

You look yourself over in the bathroom mirror, adjusting your light blue bra. Pushing moving boxes out of the way, you nod to yourself encouragingly.

No time like the present.

“Dabi,” you whisper. Your irises flash a brilliant turquoise for a second. Your heart leaps into your throat.

“Dabi.” You swear you can feel his claws ghosting over your skin.

“Dabi.” The lights flicker for a moment before going out completely. The only thing visible in the mirror is the thin blue ring around your irises – until another pair or ethereal blue eyes just over your shoulder joins them. Sharp nails dig into your arms.

A deep voice chuckles in your ear. “Miss me already?”

banner image by /mwrona on unsplash

#kinktober 2023 #dabi x reader #bakugou x reader

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becauseplot · 9 months

Text

It's over. It's done. It's over.

Forever is sobbing when Phil, Cellbit, and Bad walk back into to the room.

It's a desperate tangle of English and Portuguese that's spilling from his lips, nigh unintelligible. As the three of them make their way around the cell, Phil starts to desipher the words: "--faça parar! Faça parar! Please stop, please stop, PLEASE! Faça parar, por favor! Por favor...!"

Forever is curled up in the corner of his cell, face hidden in his hands, crying out for anyone, anyone to help him.

Phil swallows. Breathes.

He takes a step back and lets Cellbit step forward, taking up the view of the window. Cellbit starts to speak in Portuguese to Forever as Forever continues to wail, shrinking away from Cellbit and shaking something fierce. Cellbit asks Bad to remove the glass pane and Bad does so in a heartbeat.

"Olha para mim," Cellbit says with a voice that's firm and raw but not unkind. He takes a deep breath, feline tail swishing about his ankles, and holds a bar of the cell for support as he leans in closer. "Olha para mim, Forever. Abre os olhos. Por favor."

A few seconds pass. Forever's sobs wither out into wheezing breaths, and his trembling hands slide down his face. Bloodshot eyes peer up at Cellbit. Terrified. Confused.

And Cellbit begins to talk. Phil barely understands a word of it, but Cellbit is calm and clear in his speech. He holds up the syringe for Forever to see, pointing to its contents, and he talks Forever down when he starts begging again. Bad, meanwhile, kneels down behind Forever. He doesn't say anything, but he places a feather-light hand on Forever's back through the bars, oh so gentle and wary of his claws.

And Phil? Phil stands off to the side. He gives the two of them plenty of room, refusing to crowd Forever and send him into another fit of panic; but his shield is still strapped to his arm, and his axe still hangs in his hand at his side.

He won't hurt Forever. God, no, he won't hurt Forever, but Phil---Phil needs something to hold onto right now.

At last, Cellbit reaches through the large gap in the bars, holding out the syringe in an open hand. Forever sits and stares at it, throat bobbing in half-aborted sounds of doubt. He doesn't move to take it.

Phil shifts his wings. They'll hold him down and administer the antidote themselves if they have to, but no one here wants to force it on him. He's been through enough.

Thankfully, Forever finally uncurls himself from his corner just long enough to take the syringe. His fingers tremble around it so badly that Phil is afraid he'll drop it and the tube will shatter on the floor, spilling the precious medication, but he doesn't. He takes syringe and jabs it through the pearl-white fabric of his sleeve and into the meat of his arm and sinks the plunger.

Silence.

And then Forever howls. The sound rips out of him, head tipped back and tears spilling over his cheeks and jaw open wide, wide like someone reached down into his esophagus and tore his insides up and out through his mouth.

Cellbit squeezes his eyes shut and ducks away, ears pinned back. Bad knocks his forehead against the cold metal bars and makes a quiet, pained noise. Phil closes his eyes and puts a hand over his mouth and curls his wings around himself and leans on his axe because oh god, he feels like he's going to be sick.

The cry tapers off. Phil hears Cellbit hurry away and start talking to Pac on the other side of the room. Bad mutters something about the inventory scanners. Phil opens his eyes and sees Forever slumped in the corner of his cell, eyes glassy and chest rattling with every inhale. His hand lay at his side, the syringe held limply between his twitching fingers.

Phil approaches the cell and braces a hand on one of the bars. "Forever," he says. Forever doesn't so much as twitch. "Forever, can you hear me?"

Forever's gaze drags itself from the middle distance over to Phil. He blinks. His eyes flutter shut, and he sags back against the bars completely, a heap of limbs.

Phil stands there. Rubs a hand over his mouth. In the distance, there is the sound of soft, gentle Portuguese undercut by anxious mutterings. The click-clack of an inventory scanner being disarmed echoes off the walls. There's an outcry, raw and guttural. Forever's cell is dismantled with a thunk of a universal block breaker. Weeping reaches Phil's ears, muffled by an embrace, soothed by hushed reassurances.

And Forever lies sprawled out on the floor, eyes closed. Unmoving. Phil, for that matter, can't bring himself to move either. He stands, and he stares, and he breathes, and he watches Forever breathing.

"Is he okay?"

Phil jolts. He looks away from Forever to look up at Cellbit. The man's eyes are red, his mouth drawn tight.

Phil shrugs. It's barely more than a shift of his shoulders; it's all he can manage. "I don't know. I think he passed out."

Cellbit nods. "Okay. Okay." He exhales and drags his hands down his face with a shudder. "Jesus Christ, man..."

Yeah. Yeah, that just about sums it up.

#oh. ough. ouuhgg. god. fuck. ow. my heart.#i am emotionally processing yesterday's stream so i had to write something #here have a semi-accurate retelling of the final bit of the confrontation from phil's point of view #my writing #doubt i'll put this on ao3 but maybe #qsmp philza #qsmp cellbit #qsmp forever #insaneduo #insane duo #sugarduo #sugar duo

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cevansbrat0007 · 1 year

Text

Warm

Summary: Andy makes you sit through one of his favorite punishments...

Warnings: Smut, Fluff, Cock-Warming, Bratty Reader, Spanking (mentioned), Pussy Spanking, Daddy Kink, Light Degradation, Punishments, Cursing, Lloyd Evans-Drysdale, Minors DNI

A/N: Written for @writer84, @sarahdonald87, @lexivass, an anonymous reader, and several others. Part of my ongoing Growing Pains Series. All mistakes are my own.

___

You let your head rest against the doorframe as you watch your little girl’s eyes slowly fall shut, her quiet breaths evening out as she clings tighter to her stuffed pink cow, Ms. Marie Moo. Rory had woken up less than an hour after you’d tucked her into bed claiming that she and her “best friend” needed a glass of water.

While that certainly wasn’t anything out of the ordinary, her little knock at your husband’s study door had thrown you both for a bit of a loop.

Because you’d been in the middle of one of your discussions at the time. And since it was well past your all of your babies’ respective bedtimes, you hadn’t necessarily anticipated the interruption. Thank goodness you’d at least been able to throw on your robe before unlocking the door. After assuring Andy that the two of you would be quick, you'd ushered her down the hall in the direction of the kitchen.

That had been well over fifteen minutes ago. Which meant that you needed to head back. Casting one last gentle smile in her direction, you blow individual kisses to both of your sleeping daughters, who also happened to share a room. And then you turn on your heel, quietly shutting the door behind you before traipsing back down the stairs to rejoin your man.

Your hands toy with the belt of your plush robe as you round the corner, tugging at the messy knot you’d tied in a hurry. Bracing yourself for what’s to come, you stride through the still open door before shutting and locking it behind you.

“Hey, baby girl.” Andy greets you from his place behind his imposing mahogany desk. “I thought I was gonna have to come looking for you.” He takes a sip of the whiskey you’d dutifully poured for him before you’d been distracted by your child.

“Oh no…just had to tuck her back in. And then we accidentally left poor Marie Moo behind on the counter, so I had to double back.” You go to take a seat opposite him, only to stop at the quirk of one tawny, challenging brow.

Oops.

“Sorry, Daddy.” You mumble as you make quick work of removing your robe before draping it over the small couch located on the other side of the room. He leans back in his chair, his bearded chin resting between his thumb and forefinger as he lazily peruses your naked form.

Andy’s intense gaze fixates on your breasts, watching them bounce gently as you pad towards him. Seconds later, you’re standing in front of your husband, your hands fisted nervously at your sides. Even though this man has seen every inch of you a million times over, you still have to fight the urge to cover yourself.

But you also knew that Andrew Barber wouldn’t tolerate any attempts to hide from him – not that he ever did. Sometimes when was in a mood he would keep you naked in his study the entire night while he reviewed whatever legal documents he’d brought home from the office. Lately, he’d even taken to splaying you out on his desk alongside him while he worked. That way he could stop and play with you whenever he needed a break. Or, as he so often put it…

So that he could enjoy his favorite treat.

“God, I’m so lucky.” Andy purrs as one of his big hands palms his erection, even as the other reaches for your special notebook. “You ready to try this again, little love?” He holds it up, the glossy cover you’d designed gleaming in the light.

“Yes, please.” You nod. “Can I, um…I mean may I…um…”

“Use your big girl words, sweetheart.” There’s no mistaking the mocking edge to his tone. “You can do it.”

You blow out a sharp breath as you will yourself to start over.

“Um, D-daddy. May I please warm your cock while we finish our discussion?” Your newly polished toes dig into the carpet while you await his answer.

“You may.” He places his arms behind his head, his muscles flexing beneath his cotton t-shirt. “Go on and take me out again.”

Sighing, you go to reach inside his sweats, wrapping your hand around his impressive length. You give him a playful squeeze, eliciting a hiss when you finally free him from his pants.

“Good girl. Now go on and have a seat.”

Your teeth graze your bottom lip as you maneuver yourself over his lap. And then you grip him again as you slowly lower yourself onto his thick cock, whimpering softly as you take him inside you.

Inch by delicious inch. Christ he was filling you up just right!

Your walls clench around him as your core spasms against your will – reminding you of just how desperate you were to ride him. Grind against him. Make him go crazy enough to fucking explode and fill you up right.

But once again, you knew better than to move without permission. Your Daddy could thrust in and out of you all he liked, but you weren’t allowed to do a damn thing without his permission. Unless you fancied earning yourself a sore bottom. Not to mention that it had been three – no wait, almost four days – since your last spanking and you had no desire to ruin your hot streak.

“You feel so good, baby.” You tell him, your head lolling backwards against his solid chest. “Sir? Can I–can I please move? Maybe just a little bit?”

Andy’s hands go to your hips, his long fingers digging into your flesh as he playfully thrusts once, then twice. “Now, that’s all you get until we’re finished with your little list.” He smacks your thigh for good measure, making you cry out. “Assuming it is finished, of course.”

“It is. I–ooh.” You find yourself squirming in his lap. “I did it last night–just like I said I would.” You have to bite the inside of your cheek to keep from whining. Especially when he tweaks your nipple before cupping and kneading your breast.

“Need I remind you that you were also a day late?” He presses a kiss to your throat, making you shudder when his bearded chin lightly scrapes over your thrumming pulse.

“I’m sorry, Sir. But I wanted to make sure it was good.” Your man’s hand caresses its way down your body, only stopping when he reaches that sweet, wet juncture between your thighs. The pads of his fingers swirl over your sensitive bundle of nerves, loving the little sounds you make as you try to fight the bright onslaught of pleasure.

“I know.” Andy taps your clit, making you jerk and clench on his cock. “Stay still, brat.” He grunts, pinching you roughly. “You just worry about keeping me nice and warm deep inside my pretty pussy while we go over your apology list. And if you’ve done a good job –” he bounces you then, groaning as your walls milk him for all he’s worth. “I’ll give you the ride you’ve been asking for, okay?”

“Mmhm.” You hum, picking up the notebook and flipping it open to the appropriate page.

“And just how many items did you manage to include on this apology list of yours, baby girl?” His talented fingers stroke their way across your soft belly, before coming to rest just above your abdomen. “Hope it’s more than two, otherwise Daddy isn’t gonna be very happy with his baby.”

There was a time when you had to stop yourself from flinching, or curling into yourself whenever he touched you there. It had been after the birth of the twins. You’d found yourself struggling with your self-image back then. You’d hated the way you looked, to the point where you almost couldn’t fathom how or why your husband was still attracted to you.

But Andy had helped you through it all. Reminding you again and again of just how much you meant to him. How much he loved and worshiped you, not just as the mother of his children – but as the woman with whom he had chosen to share his life and his bed.

That night you’d received the green light from your doctor after your babies’ arrival had been nothing short of amazing. He’d been so tender with you, so gentle. But he’d also been very firm about your letting him in.

Letting him adore you. Cherish you.

Until you remembered how to love yourself again. Andy was your man. Your anchor. Your love. And most important of all right now…

He was your Daddy.

“It’s definitely more than two. “See?” You tell him, biting your lip as you show him the page. “I’ve got six. And I was really honest, too.”

Just like he’d told you to be. And the way you saw it, that meant there was no way he could be mad about what you’d written.

Sweat beads across your brow as you shift in Andy’s lap, a strangled mewl catching in your throat. Damn, it was hard to focus like this! Especially, when all you wanted to do turn around and fuck him so long and hard your eyes rolled back in your heads and you both succumbed to unconsciousness.

“I see that, sweet girl. And I have to tell you that I really like your first one.” Your husband pecks your temple. “Proud of you for recognizing that you should have listened to me when you weren’t feeling well. Next time I bet you’ll go to bed when I tell you to, huh?” Another kiss, this time on the apple of your cheek.

“Uh huh.” You murmur, allowing your head to fall back against his broad chest when he gifts you with three short thrusts. “I’m sorry, Sir.”

“Forgiven. Now, onto the next.” Andy grabs your hand, squeezing encouragingly. “Oh yeah, I’m glad to see you being more understanding about our lunch plans. Daddy didn’t like having to cancel with you like that, baby.”

“I know.” You turn your head towards him, offering up your mouth for a kiss. “I do feel really bad about withholding my cuddles. I always forget how pouty you get and – oww!” You squeal when he pinches your side.

“Wrong time to sass me. Keep it up and you’ll leave me no choice but to turn you over my knee.”

“Yes, Daddy. I’m sorry…” You clear your throat, feeling yourself flush. “Do you – I mean…do you want me to add that to my list then?”

Now that earns you a quick slap to your pussy.

“I’m sorry.” You grit out as he pops you again, trying to ignore the way the sharp contact makes your walls contract. “But sometimes I just can’t –”

“Sometimes you just can’t help yourself.” He grumbles. “I know, honey. The same way I knew you were a brat from our very first date.”

All you can do is shrug. “But in my defense, at least I’m cute.” You bat your lashes at him before lightly nipping at his chin. “Plus, I also gave you four babies, I make the best smothered pork chops you’ve ever had, and I look sexy as hell in all of your shirts.”

“See what I’m talking about?” Comes Andy’s throaty growl. “Goddamned brat. And watch your fucking language, before you force me to find a much better use for your disrespectful little mouth. You got that?”

“Yes, Sir.” You breathe, feeling your breasts swell and your nipples harden at his words. “S-sorry, Sir.”

“S’alright. You’re forgiven. It’s not all your fault, especially since I suspect that part of this has to do with that greedy pussy of yours running the show.” He takes a deep breath before moving onto the next apology item on your list. “Okay, number three. I see here you’re apologizing for the…” Your man trails off as he takes another calming breath. “For those fucking spiders.”

“Yep.” You flash him your best, most innocent smile. “I am so very sorry about that. When I heard your panicked screams I…well…it sounded like you were being attacked.”

“I was being attacked, Y/N! By a bunch of stupid fucking spiders that fell out of the cabinet, on top of my head, and onto the floor. And it wasn’t just me! They got Junior too!”

Yes, but unlike his father, your three-year-old had found the whole affair rather funny. He’d cackled his little head off while Andy had practically hyperventilated in the corner. And once he was done, he’d scooped up a bunch before taking off down the hall to show his sisters.

Now they, on the other hand, had reacted more like your poor, flustered husband. Yeah. It was safe to say that he had not been amused. And the way he’d roasted your bottom later on that night had confirmed that fact.

“Yeah. He seemed really disturbed by it.” You deadpan before mentally facepalming.

Shit! There you went again, mouthing off when you were in no position to be cheeky. At this rate, Andrew Barber was never gonna let you cum. And it was going to be your own goddamned fault!

“Err, I’m sorry. What I meant to say was, I shouldn’t have preyed on your fears like that, Daddy. It was wrong of me to do. I know now that I caused you extreme levels of distress. And since you’re getting on in years, I should take more care with your blood pressure. Please accept my apology.”

Andy is quiet for a moment as he mulls over your admission.

“Are my ears deceiving me, or did my sweet girl just make a crack about my age?”

Yes.

“Nope. Didn’t even cross my mind, sweet husband.”

Yes it had. So you did. Maybe you needed mental help.

“W-which brings me to number four.” You bravely forge on, not wanting to give the man time to think. “I’m sorry for going a little feral when you tried to, um, discipline me for that whole spider nonsense.” You let out a surprised yelp when Andy swats your breast.

“You bit me, you little hellcat.” His warm, slightly calloused hand wraps its way around your throat. “Nearly took a chunk out of my left calf.”

“I–I didn’t want to be–ooh!” Andy holds you in place while he moves his hips, teasing you with several tempting thrusts. “I didn’t want to be punished!” You cry, arching your back when he hits that special spot inside of you as white-hot sparks dance behind your eyelids.

“And how’d that go for you?”

“Terrible.” You concede with a gasp. “And then I pinched you. And then I followed it up with that unnecessary quip about you lacking an actual working funny bone.” Oh God! “It was mean spirited of me then, and it sounds just as bad now when I reflect back on it.”

“Sounds to me like you’ve really seen the error of your ways, baby girl.” He rasps as he moves his hand from your throat in favor of stroking your sensitive little clit. “Daddy is quite proud of you.”

“Th-thank you, Sir.” You forced yourself to take a steadying series of breaths. “As for the next one, you really do have my word that I’ll keep working on the–on my, um, n-negative self-talk.”

“Okay.” Andy ceases his movements, knowing you needed to make it through this one without him interrupting. “Keep going for me.”

“I am a good–no. Let me start over. I am a freaking fantastic Mama Bear who adores her children. Having four kids all under ten can be challenging. And there are only so many hours in the day. Which means that I need to give myself a little more credit, along with a healthy dose of grace.”

“There we go, Y/N. There it is. That is exactly what I was looking to hear from you just now.” Andy grips your jaw, tilting your head back just enough to steal himself a kiss. “Do you believe everything that you just said, little love? Because we can keep breaking it down if we need to.”

“No. I honestly don’t think so.” You murmur, your lips softly gliding over his. “But can we maybe revisit this one in a few days?”

You knew there was no way he would possibly say no to that. Andy never allowed himself to forget that you occasionally still struggled in the self-esteem department.

“Alright, put a little star next to it so we can remember that we need to do a brief check-in.” You do as he asks without missing a beat.

“Thank you, Daddy.”

“Anything for my baby girl.” He purrs, his voice deepening with approval. And then his eyes stray to the final item on your list. “And as for this last one regarding that damned Drysdale fucker–”

“Maybe we should just focus on the fact that I openly and knowingly deprived you of blackberry cheesecake.” You quickly interject, wishing you had thought a little more before including the name of your husband’s supposed rival for your affections.

Andy positively loathed Lloyd Evans-Drysdale, which sometimes made things difficult since the aforementioned man also happened to be your favorite actor.

“Or, we could focus on the fact you deprived me of the chance to eat a positively decadent treat off of your delectable little body. All over some pretentious jackass who’s too preoccupied with his fading spotlight to actually care about making a decent film once in a while.”

“I’m so sorry, honey. I know this is a sore spot. And, honestly, I shouldn’t have poked it.” You choke back a sob when he finally begins to move again. Which let you know that he was most likely satisfied with that apology.

“You mean that, little one?” Andy grunts, his arms lacing themselves around your middle as continues to drive into you. You find yourself feeling grateful when he increases his pace, both of you loving the way your messy cunt clings to him, refuses to let go of his thick cock.

“So much, Andy Bear. Am I…am I forgiven then?” You hold your breath.

“Depends.”

"Mm?"

“You owe me one orgasm for each point on that piece of paper.” He nods in the direction of your notebook as he possessively cups your drenched core, shaking his hand back and forth.

“What!” You wail as your eyes fly open. “That’s not even fair!”

That was one hell of a penance, not to mention a ridiculous stipulation to put on any one girl’s pussy at any given time.

“Didn’t ask if it was fair.” Andy hisses as your velvety walls continue to milk him for all he’s worth. “You give me six good, strong orgasms and Daddy will consider the slate wiped clean.”

With a whimper you begin to bounce on his lap, working hard to push yourself closer to the brink. "There we go. Bein' such a good girl for me." Andy praises.

"Now be a doll and turn around. Daddy wants to watch those perfect tits bounce while you use him to fuck yourself senseless."

END

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