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luffington · 14 days

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young master ♡

➤ summary: You don't worship the ground Doflamingo walks on, and it turns him on a little too much. (18+)

➤ pairing: doflamingo x afab!reader

➤ word count: 3.7k

➤ warnings: kinda sub!doflamingo (he’s a horny menace), mild dubcon, possessive doffy, spit kink, oral (f receiving), masturbation (m receiving), degradation, name-calling

➤ notes: this takes place before dressrosa but i’m only halfway done with the arc so sorry for any inaccuracies! i haven't posted my writing online in years so please lmk what you think :3

NSFW under the break! minors dni thank uuu

Doflamingo was sulking. His signature smile was comically turned upside down and his arms were crossed over his chest. Feet resting on top of his desk as he leaned back in his plush office chair, crumpling the important documents strewn underneath them that he was meant to review and sign. He knew he probably looked like a petulant child, and he felt like one, too. This was all your fucking fault.

Even though you were only in your twenties, you were already a well-known Vice Admiral. Vergo had informed Doflamingo of your impressive Haki abilities months ago, but that wasn’t the only reason he kept a close eye on you. You were sexy as hell, even in a Marines uniform, and he delighted in every brief interaction he had with you at Warlord meetings. When you decided to take some time off, he snatched you up immediately with a tantalizing job offer. After all, working for him was technically still a Government job, and he was helping so many countries in need!

You made it clear from the very beginning that this was a temporary gig and you had no intention of permanently joining the Donquixote Family. You were his business partner, not his subordinate. He never planned on honoring that agreement, of course, but you were making his plans particularly difficult.

The man had hundreds of thousands – if not millions – of loyal and passive subjects. Obedient workers who never questioned his judgment and praised his iron fist, from the filthy commoners at the bottom to the Elite Officers up top. But not you.

You had the kind of effortless confidence that got under his skin. You were unbothered and detached from his evil antics, from him. He made his presence known everywhere he went and was always the focus of the room, but it seemed like you paid more attention to the damn servants than him. His threats and intimidation which made thousands tremble in fear hardly made you flinch. When he revealed the secret of Dressrosa’s toys in hopes of getting a reaction from you, you practically yawned.

You knew who he was. You knew what he was capable of. You didn’t fucking care.

You weren’t afraid of him, and this greatly disturbed him.

A few days ago, you had strolled into his office without even knocking on the door. He furrowed his eyebrows in annoyance, but you barely took notice. You were there to discuss your agreement in order to figure out a time frame of how long he needed you. He threw his head back and laughed loudly as he said, “That’s adorable. You really think you can get away from me, hm?”

Perceptive as always, you noticed the slightest twitch of his middle finger and immediately held an Armament Haki-coated hand in front of your chest, blocking the nearly invisible string flung your way. “Doffy, I’m being serious.”

He frowned and narrowed his eyes. Diamante used that nickname once in front of you and now you wouldn’t call him anything else. You thought it was cute. “Since when can you block my strings?”

“Do you really think I’d be a Vice Admiral if I couldn’t do that? You were so obvious about it, too.” You clicked your tongue, knowing full well that anyone less powerful than you wouldn’t be able to perceive his movement. Prominent veins popped in Doflamingo’s forehead but the blonde man stayed silent. “I think I’ll stay here for a few more months, at least. Maybe longer if I don’t have a terrible time here. Dressrosa is kind of growing on me.”

“You’re acting like I can’t keep you here by force.” Doflamingo interrupted your train of thought. “I could have Sugar turn you into a cute little doll, and then your Vice Admiral position would disappear. Or Giolla could turn you into a painting to hang on my wall.” He paused as if considering his options, knowing full well what he truly wanted. “Maybe I’ll keep you tied up with strings as my own personal pet.”

Many times he’d pictured you tied to the headboard of his bed, stripped naked and covered in his drying cum as he used you however he wanted. Perhaps then he’d finally ignite a spark of fear in you.

“If you actually wanted to do that, it would’ve happened already. But you’re the one who hired me, remember?” You acted like you were explaining something obvious to a kid. “If you try anything against me, I can always call up the Navy and tell them what you’re doing to your poor innocent citizens. Maybe even let them know your alias? Begins with a J, right?”

“You wouldn’t dare.” He snarled, sitting up in his seat immediately and binding strings around your wrists to keep them pinned above your head. You kept your eyes trained on his, a determined and almost taunting glint in them.

“I’m not a big fan of blackmail, so I don’t want to do that,” you replied in an even tone. “I’m just saying that I can. Now, are we gonna talk business, or are you gonna play cat’s cradle all day?”

Doflamingo should’ve killed you right then and there. That would’ve put an end to his confusing thoughts about you, but your conversation only made them worse. You were on his mind constantly, to the point where he couldn’t focus on anything else. It was an obsession, an infatuation, one completely unbecoming of a heavenly being like himself. People were meant to grovel at his feet and kiss the very ground he walked on – why the fuck were you not affected?

He finally had enough. He pushed the chair away from his desk and stormed out of his office. Servants hurried away in fear, knowing that his scowl and heavy footsteps meant nothing but trouble. A whirlwind of thoughts swirled around his mind — he wanted to make you scream, to completely immobilize you with his power, to kiss you so hard you saw stars. No, that wasn’t it.

He wanted you to call him ‘Young Master’.

Doflamingo threw open the double doors to a secluded drawing room in his typical dramatic flair. You were alone, reclining on a couch and reading a book. Even this pissed him off – you were in a potential viper’s nest, surrounded by powerful people who could turn on you at any point, yet you didn’t feel the need to keep others around you for protection. You turned your head towards the intruder in confusion. His massive body filled the door frame and light from the hallway illuminated him and his feathery coat from behind, making him look like a fallen angel.

“What Devil Fruit did you eat.” It was a statement, not a question. His voice was a dangerously low growl.

“I already told you, I didn’t eat one.” You said slowly, slightly thrown off by his demeanor but still not afraid.

“You lying bitch!” He roared, using his strings to slam the doors behind him as he crossed the room towards you in three giant steps. “You must have some kind of mind control ability, or manipulation, or… I don’t fucking know! Tell me what’s happening!” He threw his head in his hands and crouched over, almost as if he was in pain. “Why can’t I stop fucking thinking about you!”

Your mouth opened slightly and you blinked a few times to process the situation, and then it hit you. A sly grin slowly formed on your face as you dog-eared your book and set it down next to you. You knew this man was incapable of love in its purest sense, but maybe… “Doffy, have you never been attracted to someone before?”

His head shot up and he narrowed his eyes at you furiously behind his sunglasses. Of course he’d fucking been attracted to people – he refused to settle for nothing but the best with his lovers. He had fucked enough sexy men and women over the years to form a small army. But none of them were like you.

They were all cheaply made toys, suitable for one or two uses then tossed in the trash when they broke or when he got bored. He was a greedy and spoiled child who always got what he wanted. But with you… it felt like he was staring through the front window of a shop at a shiny new toy. So close and so enticing but completely out of reach.

“Fuck you! I… I…” You would never know how that sentence was supposed to end, because he sunk to his knees and hung his head in frustrated shame. He slammed his fist against the floor hard enough to rattle the room. “Why won’t you belong to me?!”

The almighty King of Dressrosa, the feared Warlord, the powerful underground broker, was on his knees begging for you. He knew he sounded pathetic. He felt pathetic. But he couldn’t go a moment longer without getting what he wanted, what was rightfully his.

To say you were shocked was an understatement. You had always stood your ground because you knew your worth, but sometimes you did it to purposely push the blonde man’s buttons since no one else seemed to have the courage to do so. But you were just teasing him – this was not the outcome you had in mind.

You slowly stood from the couch to move in front of him. Even bent over, the massive man was practically your height, but he had never seemed smaller.

“Doffy,” you began in a quiet voice and reached out to gently touch his feather-clad shoulder, but he slammed the ground again.

“I don’t need you to patronize me! I need…” he trailed off again and hesitated for a moment before realizing what he needed to do to calm the fire roaring inside him. Fine, he would give you a fucking reason to worship him. He threw himself at your midsection, making you yelp in surprise. He had finally drawn a reaction out of you, and it spurred him on even more. Rough hands yanked your shirt up to your breasts and he hungrily mouthed at the soft skin of your tummy, a frenzied mess of tongue and teeth and soft lips. “I need you. Give yourself to me.” He said breathlessly, punctuating his words with a sharp bite at your hip.

You were frozen in place but weak in the knees, unable to do anything but accept his bites and bruises. You’d be lying if you said you’d never imagined what his long tongue and nimble fingers felt like on your body, in your body. He nipped at your skin hard enough to bruise then soothed it with his tongue, sending heat straight to your core.

Doflamingo was in a drugged-like haze, mind clouded with a dizzying mix of lust and hatred and longing. He belatedly noticed that you weren’t resisting him when he popped the button on your jeans. When he looked up, he realized your cheeks were flushed and your gaze was trained on his long fingers dancing along the waistband of your pants.

He smiled wickedly, feeling a sliver of regained control. “You fucking whore. You want this, don’t you?”

“Doffy, you’re the one literally trying to get in my pants.”

“Shut up.” He snarled, annoyed yet allured by your sweet giggle afterwards. He yanked your jeans down to your ankles to reveal pretty pink lace panties underneath. They practically matched the color of his coat – you had to have worn those just for him. Might as well take them later.

A needy and unashamed whine tore from his lips when he saw your pussy. Even more perfect than he’d imagined all those times he fucked his fist alone in bed. He told himself this was what was necessary to crush that annoying ego of yours, knowing full well he was nearly shaking with pure carnal desire. He grabbed your hips hard enough to bruise and shoved your thighs apart before diving in. His tongue was ravenous, licking a sloppy stripe from your ass to your clit, mouth closing around the nub and sucking harshly. The sweetest moan he’d ever heard fell from your lips and he echoed it, eager to hear more.

Fingers tangled in his short blonde hair as you tried to steady yourself. It was too much all at once. You tried to tug him away to tell him to slow down, yet wanted to pull him even closer. Doflamingo flinched at the contact. Part of him wanted to tie your hands behind your back because how dare you touch him without permission. But instead, he groaned at the rough pull on his scalp, which went straight to his hardening cock. His grip on you tightened as he dragged you further onto his face.

His long tongue lapped messily at your folds then slipped into your cunt, shallowly thrusting the wet tip in and out. He laughed in delight at your delicious juices coating his tastebuds and making his head spin.

“You’re so fucking wet.” He panted and rubbed his nose against your clit, making you jump. A sloppy string of his saliva still connected his mouth to your entrance. “I think you like me after all.”

“I’d like anyone who eats me out this good,” you quipped.

“But no one’s as good as me, hm?” To prove his point, he shoved the entirety of his skilled tongue deep inside you. You threw your head back and whined as the wet muscle curled and twisted inside you, hungrily lapping at your sensitive inner walls. “No one will ever be as good as me. Say you’re mine and you can have this every day.”

“F-fuck, Doffy… so, mmh, good…” He ate you out like a man starved, desperately sucking at every part of your pussy he could reach. One hand moved from your hip, leaving dark blue fingerprint-shaped bruises behind, and plunged into his own pants. He let out a deep groan at the contact.

“Call me Young Master.” Doflamingo breathed heavily as he pulled his pants down slightly. Your jaw dropped when he revealed his massive and fully erect dick, leaking beads of precum and bobbing against his stomach. You knew he’d be big based on his height, but this was inhuman. The blonde man noticed your hungry gaze and chuckled. “You want me so badly. Stop denying the truth and I’ll give you everything you want. I am a benevolent king, after all.”

You actually laughed at that, and he didn’t even try to be angry – being on full display for you meant he couldn’t hide the way your disobedience made his cock twitch. His other hand slithered between your legs and rubbed at your folds and the smile fell off your face.

You stumbled backwards – there was nothing behind you to lean on and your legs were quickly turning into jelly. “W-wait, Doffy, I can’t, ahh, l-let me sit…”

Two of his fingers moved downwards and bound your feet to the floor with his string. Immobilizing your bottom half like a statue but intentionally leaving your top half free to grab at his hair and body as you pleased. “Your king will grant you permission to move when I want to.”

“S’okay, I l-like seeing you look up to me for once.” Your witty reply was lost on the blonde, who had spread your folds apart and was hypnotized by your entrance clenching around nothing. You were so fucking tiny compared to him and he ached at the thought of molding your insides to take him and him alone.

Just one thick finger was enough to make you moan and pant, slowly pushing its way inside your cunt. “Shit, you’re so tight.” The soft squelches of your inner walls rang in his ears and pretty pearls of precum leaked from his dick. “Perfect fucking pussy. Give it to me.”

A second digit was soon added, scissoring you apart expertly. Unsurprisingly, the man really knew how to use his fingers. He crooked them and brushed against your most sensitive spot, causing you to cry out and hold onto him even harder. Sharp teeth playfully bit at your inner thigh in response. Doflamingo gathered some of the constant dribble of precum from the tip of his cock to lube his rough palm. He considered making you spit on his hand to ease the glide, but a better idea came to mind.

“Spit in my mouth.” He ordered, tilting his head up and sticking his tongue out. Waiting for you to follow his command like a good toy.

You were taken aback by the sudden request, but you gathered a ball of spit in your mouth like you were told… and it landed directly on the lens of his sunglasses, obscuring the vision of one eye. Doflamingo knew that it wasn’t just badly aimed. This was an act of defiance. You intentionally spit on his defining accessory, his very essence.

“You stupid slut.” The venomous insult came with a maniacally pleased grin. He pushed the stained glasses onto his forehead and you finally saw his eyes for the first time. Gorgeous and bright blue with lust-blown pupils. Looking at his beautifully depraved expression in its entirety, you briefly wondered if he really was an angel. His fingers sped up to a nearly brutal pace and he slipped in a third digit, causing you to choke on your spit. “Love me. Love me.”

A divine being who fell from heaven to beg at your feet.

“Y-you’re fucking insane,” you panted with a blissful smile, your cunt clenching down deliciously on him. “Make up your, mmh, mind.”

“Adore me.” He responded immediately. “Say you’re mine. Be mine.”

Even though you refused to respond, the blonde was lost in his fantasies yet grounded in the reality of your beautiful face scrunched up in pleasure. Mouth hanging open, hands nearly going numb from how hard you held onto him. He needed to see you like this every day – no, every hour. He could keep you under his desk like a pet, ready to suck his dick whenever he allowed you to. Or maybe you’d sit in his lap all day, one of his hands fondling your tits as he attended meetings and forced his subordinates to watch him play with his favorite toy.

But that was too mundane. He could snatch up anyone in Dressrosa right now and do the same. No, the twisted fantasy that really made his cock ache was already happening. That annoyingly sexy confidence of yours was threatening his godliness.

Maybe he’d make you step on him next time.

“Call me Young Master,” he begged again, too far gone to realize how ridiculous he sounded. Tongue hanging out like a dog (and panting like one, too), he rutted into his hand even faster. His cock was absolutely throbbing, red and angry and dripping precum. He was in no position to be giving orders. You stifled a giggle with your hand, which quickly turned into a moan as his fingers bumped against your cervix.

“I already t-told you,” you sucked in a few shaky breaths. He was watching you intently and still smiling, but his fingers never slowed down. “You’re not my –mm– Master, I don’t, ahh, work for you…”

“But why not?” He whined again. “At least call me it when you cum. I’ll fucking kill you if you don’t.”

You didn’t acknowledge the ridiculously empty threat, instead throwing your head back when his fingers crooked against your most sensitive spot. Slick was dribbling down your legs – Doflamingo licked it off of your thighs before slurping around his digits buried inside you. The blonde echoed your unashamedly loud moans, practically on the edge himself. He only needed one thing to send him into a rapturous white bliss.

He stared up at you unblinkingly, face frozen in a grin as he took in all the telltale signs of your approaching orgasm. Sweat dribbled down your forehead, eyebrows furrowed together, body tense and breath hot. “I-I’m gonna… gonna…” He crooked his fingers inside you the way he’d done thousands of times to turn people into obedient little puppets.

“Doffy~!” Your face contorted into the most divine expression he’d ever seen, crying out his name like a desperate prayer.

You ignored his order. You used that stupid fucking nickname.

He came hard.

The tight coil that had been building in his groin for days at the mere thought of you finally snapped. An animalistic moan left his lips as thick ropes of cum coated his hand and spilled onto his abdomen. He looked even more blissed out than you, panting hard and shuddering and nearly overstimulating himself with the hand on his cock still slowly moving up and down.

Doflamingo finally removed his fingers from inside you and loudly sucked them clean of your essence. Still craning his neck upwards so he wouldn’t break eye contact with you. You could lose yourself inside that piercing gaze, so full of obsession and hunger, especially when it was coming from a position of worship rather than condescension.

Blinking out of your stupor, you realized the blonde’s cum-coated hand was in front of your mouth. If you were anyone else, he would’ve shoved his fingers all the way to your throat and made you choke on it. Instead, he stayed still and kept quiet. This was an offering.

You grabbed his wrist and kitten-licked his sticky palm twice, humming thoughtfully as if appraising the taste. His grin grew even wider. Then you pulled away and teasingly said, “You take care of the rest of it.”

Doflamingo simply giggled in delight — you’d willingly tasted the essence of a god, one that was soon to be your god, but you were still too stubborn to give in. He didn’t expect you to crumble so easily and he didn’t want you to. He was having way too much fun. The blonde smeared the rest of his cum on the crotch of the pink panties still pooled around your ankles.

“That’s disgusting.” You huffed in annoyance and rolled your eyes. “What am I supposed to wear out of here?”

The man chuckled lowly and rose to his feet, suddenly towering above you at full height. He wiped the dried spit off of his sunglasses before returning them to their rightful place on the bridge of his nose.

“Who said anything about leaving?” You paled at the sight of his devilish grin but felt your core clench in need. “You still haven’t called me by my proper title.”

#mine #doflamingo x reader #doflamingo smut #doffy x reader #doflamingo #doffy #one piece x reader #one piece smut #my fics #donquixote doflamingo

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sabosbabygirl · 2 months

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The Rendezvous Before Dinner

Luffy x You

NSFW, +18, Quickie, Sex, Growth (iykyk)

790 words

You entered your quarters and saw Luffy on the bed. He was trained at this point 😈

“Finally..Okay Sanji is making food which means we got hurry up…please?!” Luffy pouts slightly as his hands are at the waistband of his shorts. You have him trained. He knew all the ins and outs of sex with you to include the quickies. He has been more open about when he wants it…

You raise an eyebrow, “What is it you want, Luffy?” you tease him. He groans, “Ahhh, y/n, please. Just a real quickie…please?!” he pouts again, this time pressing his lips out.

You eye him up and down, you notice that he casually flexes his muscles to make you laugh. “Yes?!?!” he whines while his hands slowly lower his pants….

You can’t help but smile. Normally sex is a matter of serious but with Luffy, it’s fun which honestly makes it more enjoyable, plus seeing how excited he gets and how he is asking rather than expecting it makes you fall 10 times harder for him.

“Fine!! Let’s see how fast w-“ before you finish the sentence Luffy’s pants are off and he stretches his arms to where you are standing by the door and tosses you to the bed…

“Sorry, y/n, but I can’t wait anymore. You are more delicious than meat and that’s saying a lot,” he leans in and kisses you hard at first before softening his kiss. His kisses used to be awkward but after a little practice he became much better.

He kisses your lips softly but increases the speed slightly, so his tongue dances with yours. He moans, while one of his hands slides down your pants. His fingers gently touching your bud through your panties. You can’t help but moan back and your tongue dances with his a little more wildly.

Upon your moan, his cock twitches against your thigh and his fingers slide between your panties.

“Luffy,” you moan while kissing him. He slowly pulls away from your lips and stares at you, “Y/n, I want to see your reaction when I…” his fingers brush against your bud, moving it slowly up and down before his fingers plunging inside you. “You’re wet..” his eyes widen and watch as you shut your eyes and squirm slightly. His cock now fully erect and pressing against your thigh.

He stretches his fingers inside you so that you feel his fingertips massage your g-spot. His eyes stay on your face, as you moan, “Luffy…please….”

He bites his lip, “Little longer like this y/n. God, your face is beautiful,” his voice is barely a whisper as his fingers keep massaging your g-spot. A tiny bit of precum from his cock drips onto your thigh.

He feels your pussy walls start to twitch around his stretched fingers, your g-spot vibrating, you are so close.

“Luffy, I-“you moan before his lips press against yours. You feel his fingers leave your wet pussy and his hands push down your pants and panties.

Luffy quickly but gently pushes his cock inside you. You squirm and moan into his mouth as he continues kissing you and thrusting slowly.

Both yours and Luffy’s moans mixing in perfect harmony as his hips gently crash into yours. His cock twitching with arousal as he feels your pussy walls loosen around him. He stretches his cock so that the head of his shaft rubs against your g-spot….

He pulls away from your lips “Cum for y/n. Please. I love when you cum on my cock~” he groans while continuing his slow, gentle pace.

“Luffy…right there…faster” you moan as you feel how his entire girth stretched to fill your pussy up and his tip massaging your g-spot.

Luffy smiles and begins thrusting faster, his shaft sliding against your pussy walls and his tip now slamming against your g-spot.

He moans and puts both his hands beside your head as leverage.

“Please, y/n, I’m so close…please cum…pleaseeee,” he moans out has his shaft throbs against your pussy walls making your entire body vibrate. He stretches his cock once more causing his tip to press hard against g-spot. The pressure feels overwhelming good.

“Yesss!! LUFFY!!” you moan loudly as your pussy gives in and your orgasm flows out. Your entire pussy drenching his cock that is filling you up beyond comparison.

“OH God!! Beautiful!! Ughhhhh y/n!!” he yells as his cum shoots deep inside your uterus and coating your g-spot.

Luffy slows his thrusting and shrinks his cock to normal size inside you. He smiles dumbly at you, “See that? Quick!! With 5 mins to spare before Sanji is done with the meat.”

You widen your eyes and laugh…although you have him trained in the sex department, he is still Luffy.

#monkey d. luffy #one piece luffy #straw hat luffy #luffy #luffy x reader #luffy x you #luffy x y/n #luffy smut #one piece smut

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mysicklove · 10 months

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thots on kitty!bakugou getting his nipples played with for the first time? feels so good it scares him, i bet. good enough to break down his sense of pride to beg for you to get your wrap? hehe

𝐀 𝐍𝐄𝐖 𝐏𝐋𝐀𝐂𝐄 𝐓𝐎 𝐓𝐄𝐀𝐒𝐄

Pairing: Sub! Bottom! Cat Hybrid! Bakugou x Dom! Top! AFAB! Reader

Word count: 2.4k

Warnings: Pegging, HEAVY nipple play, anal play, mention of collar, katsuki swears in like every sentence, nickname "kitty", hints of sadistic reader, pain/pleasure play ig.

A/N: I kinda changed it up just a tad anon im sorry lol. but i loved this idea so much i had to turn it into a fic. damn another fic that is not a kinktober one, ughhh

Your kitty has a very sensitive chest. Of course, Bakugou would never tell you this. You have a problem with bullying him a little bit, poking fun at him until he hisses at you, or teasing his body until he cries from frustration. Telling you about his nipples is a one-way ticket to mewling under you. He's not taking that ride.

So he hides it. Relatively well too; he tries his best not to press his ears back and whimper when you accidentally graze one of the buds. Instead, moving your hand away from his chest either up to his collar or beneath his pants.

You never suspected a thing. Just how Katsuki like it.

"Kitty, I'm home!" You chirp, opening the front door with a small content smile on your face. Katsuki peers up at you from the couch where he was napping, a frown plastered on his face.

"Why did you take so fucking long?" He complains, automatically getting up from the couch, and making his way over to you. He leans slightly leans down, and your hand reaches up to pet him. His ears twitch and he lets a gruff sigh at the feeling of your fingers.

"Sorry, Kats. There was a car accident on the way home. Traffic was bad. But anyways, how are you?"

He pulls away from you before he starts purring, his pride getting the better of him. "Fine. Dinner is getting cold."

He walks away toward the kitchen before you can respond, fixing you a plate while you sigh and slump against the dinner table chair. He sits down next to you, and you thank him. He lets out a grunt in response. The best you'll get out of him.

Dinner goes down relatively quietly. Katsuki isn't much of a talker, and you were tired from the day. You needed a little bit of energy before holding a conversation between you too.

"Want to do it tonight," He says finally breaking the comforting silence.

You pause, looking up with a raised eyebrow. He doesn't make eye contact with you, but his cheeks are slightly pink. He tries to act all bold, but both of you know he always is so embarrassed to suggest these things. A prime subject to tease. "Do what?"

His ears fall back and he glares at you. "You know what."

You balance your head on your hand. "Hm?"

"Want to...Fuck." He sighs, staring at his bowl with bared teeth.

"You want me to fuck you?" You say, now grinning at him.

Katsuki dramatically stands up from the table, his face now blooming red. He leaves the bowl on the table, and his tail sways behind him.

"Never mind. I'm going to bed."

You are up in an instant, chasing after him before he gets too far. Without really thinking much of it, you reach out from behind him and grab his chest, pulling his back against your front.

Katsuki doesn't have time to hide himself. He feels your hands grip accidentally grip his nipple, and he whimpers. Loud and shakily, while his eyes furrow to process the overbearing feeling.

The two of you freeze, both with wide eyes. He doesn't dare to move, afraid of what you'll say.

You loosen your grip slightly on his chest, and he lets out a breath of relief. But you don't dare to let him go, now intrigued. Slowly, your hands begin to run over his chest, taking notice of the way his breath hitches when you hit his nipples.

Your face curls with a feral grin, happy to find something new about your pet. "Oh, Kats. You didn't tell me you were so sensitive here."

His ears are pinned to his head, and he gulps. "Fuck you. 'm not"

You gently pinch his right nipple and his eyes widen, a broken whine falling from his lips. "Hmm? You sure, love?"

"Don't do that!" He pleads as he shrinks away from your fingers and into your chest, afraid you'll pinch him again.

You press a kiss to his neck in apology. Then you grab his hand and lead him into the bedroom. "Let's go fulfill your request, yeah kitty?"

He stares at the hand and then you, nervously. He knows you are going to abuse him, and he's not sure if he can take it, but on the other hand, he really wants to be fucked.

He's willing to take the risk. "Alright."

You know too much. Another thing to hold above his head. How is he ever going to escape your cruel hands if his body is so complaint with them?

"Fuck you! S-Stop! The teeth."

Your mouth has made his way to his chest in a matter of minutes of the two of you being in the bedroom. He is laying limp against the mattress, and your finger is moving in and out of his hole, prepping him for later.

But your current fixation was seeing how far he can go with his tits solely. You are still working on the intensity, and seeming to how Katsuki is dripping tears, it's probably too much for him. Your teeth barely even grazed him. "My fault. Didn't mean to, shhh don’t cry kitty."

He clenches his teeth together and the back of his arm covers his face, embarrassed about the tears You begin kitten licking the nipple and he sniffles, being okay with this sort of pressure.

Gently, you reassure yourself and your fingers continue their prodding. He has already taken two of them, and now you are scissoring the hole. He was taking them well, moaning gently under you with no complaint.

You gently begin to to suck, and the cat let's out a shaky moan. Not a whimper or a cry, a better sign. Your other hand travels to his other side and you gently travel circles around the pink nub. His back arches slightly and his mouth opens.

“There ya go. See we did it Kats. Doesn't hurt so bad now, hmm?”

He gulps, slightly gripping onto the sheets from the prodding sensation and your antics on his chest. It's overwhelming him, and he is struggling to bite back moans. “Dumbass. Just be gentle.” His voice doesn't hold a bite, instead it's higher in pitch and shaky.

Cute. But he always was, unitentionally of course. His pride is to big to try to act cute sole for you (even if you begged him multiple times).

He keens when you press your fingers onto his prostate, clenching his teeth with his ears pressed against the top of his head. You immediately distract him from the sensation by gently sucking his nipple.

His eyes fling open in an instant, and he choking out moans. "Not at the same time!"

You ignore his pleads, and switch to the other side. He grabs the back of your head and grips onto it desperately. The feeling makes you wince, but you don't stop your movements.

Eventually when it gets too much for the cat, he forces you away from his chest. You glance at him, slightly peeved, but your eyes widen at the sight.

Tears are streaming down his face, and he's trembling. His ears are pressed flat upon his head, and drool slightly drips from the corner of his lips. He is shaking his head at you, slowly but full of emotions. "No more. No more. 's too much. Just fuck me already!"

You peer down at his chest to see both of the nubs swollen and throbbing. You have abused them for too long, and it almost made you feel bad. Your poor kitty didn't deserve this, but alas, his wet teary eyes made it worth it. You couldn’t help but bully him if he looked so cute.

But, you take pity on him, and grab the strap, lubing it up, along with his entrance. He bites back a whimper at the coolness, but you force it out when you press a kiss to his thighs.

You pull your fingers out and he lets out an obviously displeased noise, trying to follow the digits. "So needy," You coo, and he scoffs, rolling his eyes, but blushing.

Then you line the toy up to his hole, and his ear twitch. He gulps and stares at the silicon, trying to contain his excitement. You begin to press it in, and he sighs, closing his eyes.

Slowly, you bottom out, and the cat lets out a breathy moan. A finger travels up to his chest again, and he jumps when you drag it over again. "Not—Not again."

You lean forward, now completely above him, waiting for him to adjust to the length. You circle the bud and kiss his cheek when he whines out. "Cant' help myself. You're so cute, Kats."

"F-Fuck you! Stop teasing me," He warbles, his eyes hazy and lips wet from his own saliva.

You begin your movements and he clings onto you. His mouth flies open, exposing his pointed canines that you are so fond of. "Such a cute kitty with such an adorable, sensitive body. I'm so spoiled."

He shakes his head, tears dripping down his cheeks. "Just shut up, and fuck me!"

You giggle into his neck, and pinch one of his nipples. His whole body jerks and whines, loud and pathetic. He trembles under you and glares at you, which doesn't look threatening at all considering they are wet from tears. "Be nice Katsuki."

He doesn't say anything, afraid you'll pinch him again. Instead, he nods his head and wraps his legs around your hips, silently signaling he wants more and quickly.

You abide his wishes and quicken your pace, and he mewls out, latching his mouth onto your shoulder. You grin at him and kiss the side of his head, mumbling words of encouragement.

His grinds himself on the strap, and his eyes roll at the feeling of his throbbing cock rubbing against your stomach. Mixed with earlier teasing, he felt like he was already close to cumming. He grips onto you and begins to beg for you to go faster.

But much to his dismay, you don't listen to him. Instead, you purr in his ear, "Katsuki~"

He clenches his teeth at the thrust, but whines at your words. Something bad was coming, he could tell. "Hmm?"

"Touch yourself."

He doesn't hesitate to reach down and begin stroking himself off, but you catch his wrist with the first stroke. He gulps and glances at you hesitantly.

You stare at him, smiling softly. Then, you lean forward and press your lips to his ears. "Your nipples, silly."

Your pace hasn't slowed and he can barely process your words, but the way you drag his fingers back to his chest lets him know exactly what you want.

He shakes his head furiously, clinging onto you. "Nooooooooo. Fuck, they hurt!"

You balance yourself on you forearm above him, and use your other to thumb over one of the buds. He moans, slightly arching his back. "They won't. See? Gotta be gentle, love."

He looks up at you with a pout and teary eyes, but nods hesitantly. His hands travel down to his chest, and he uses both hands to trace circles on them. The blonde whimpers out, shutting his eyes to try to manage the strange mix of pain and pleasure.

You finally quicken your pace, and Bakugou groans, not knowing what to with his body. He feels the sticky feeling of pre cum leaking on his abdomen, but his hands are too busy to wipe it away.

"m gonna cum."

"Are you asking for permission?"

He wasn't, and the both of you knew that. "Y-Yeah."

You smile at him, pressing a kiss to his tear stained lips. "As long as you touch your nipples through it all."

He wants to protest, already feeling overstimulated from both of the intense pleasures, but he also wants to cum. So, he nods with a sniffle. You rub you fingers over his twitching ears, and he leans into the warmth.

The pressure begins to build up, and hes now gently flicking his nipples. Hes withering from his own ministrations, and the ruthless pace of your strap isn't helping at all. Every breath is a moan, or a whine, and he shivering. "Fuck. Fuck. Im cumming. I can't!"

"Go ahead, kitty."

His whole body contracts, and his eyes screw shut. It tears viciously through him, and he's crying out. Its loud, high in pitched, but cute.

His hands clench up on his nipples, so you lean down and press your mouth to one. His shaky hands find the back of your hand and he curses, back now arching completely off the sheets.

Cum leaks onto his stomach, and some onto yours. His tail goes pin straight, and his ears are pinned to his head.

His high lasts longer than usual, about thirty seconds, and by the end of it his clinging onto you desperately while you coo at him.

When he comes down from his orgasm, he is heaving, trying to catch his breath again. You gently pull out during this time and he lets out a small gasp, but other than that doesn't complain. He falls limp against the bed, his body sweaty and flushed.

You take off the strap and begin to wipe him down with a washcloth, humming softly in your work. You are careful to leave his nipples alone, knowing hell prob freak out if you even graze them now. They are puffy and red, and most likely throbbing.

"You with me Katsuki?" You say, glancing hesitantly at him, almost feeling bad about his chest.

"Yeah, I'm here, you brat."

You laugh gently, glad your cat is back to his usual antics. "Ironic," You tease, grinning at him.

He doesn't find it funny. "Hey fuck you. I listened well today! Even after you tried torturing me." The last part comes out as a mumble, pouting into his pillow.

Your eyes whole a sadistic glaze to them, and he gulps, wondering what you are going to say next. "If you think thats torture, oh kitty, what do you think we buy you some nipple clamps?"

He throws a pillow at you and hisses before you could finish your next thought.

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prythianpages · 5 months

Note

Ohhhh would you ever write more about the witch reader x az. I loved it! I want to see feyres reaction :)

I might! I think I'd be open to making it like a series/au bc witch reader x Az makes me so soft 🥰 and I'm currently obsessed with the song that inspired it bc the song is so beautiful and whimsical and makes me wish I could experience a love like that

if you haven't read the original imagine, you can find it here.

here is a small drabble of feyre's reaction 😊 :

When you and Azriel return to the river house, Feyre is in the sitting room. She's lightly bouncing an agitated Nyx, who teethes at a cool wash cloth. "I know, baby," she coos at the infant.

Her blue-gray eyes are on you as soon as you enter and they light up when she notices Azriel's hands are ungloved and one of them is holding on to yours, fingers intertwined with another.

"How was the trip?" She asks, her lips curling up into a knowing smile.

"It was fine."

"She almost cursed Eris."

You're turning to Azriel with a playful glare and his wings twitch in response, his usual stoic demeanor now much lighter and Feyre knows it's all because of you. "It could've been a nice little hex that'd make his eyebrows fall off, you know. Just something to get him off his high horse."

Feyre laughs at the image that comes to mind. "I hope Eris didn't give you much trouble?"

"He shot an arrow through Azriel's hand."

"No."

You and Azriel exchange another look, missing the way Feyre's eyes grew distant for a brief moment.

They're holding hands! Feyre nearly screams into Rhysand's mind and he can feel all her excitement and joy through the bond.

He's sitting outside by one of the tables in their garden with Cassian and Mor on either side of him. If it were up to him, he'd be inside by his wife. But it was her who had kicked him outside, not wanting to overwhelm Azriel and you. "Out you busybodies!" She had exclaimed as she ushered them all out of the house.

"Hey, Cas," he grins. "You owe me twenty coins."

Cassian nearly spits out his lemonade. "What?" He sputters with wide eyes. Mor leans forward in her seat.

Rhysand then shows them the image Feyre had send him. It's of you and Azriel bickering and fussing over one another like an old married couple.

"Let's just call it even." Cassian insists, setting his cup down. "I am the one who got rid of all the dandelion root from her apothecary shop."

"Hey! Don't take all the credit. I am the one who kept her distracted!" Mor cuts in, dramatically throwing her hands in the air. "And also the one who kept Azriel from suspecting anything when Feyre had asked for an escort. Do you know how hard it is to sneak things around those two?"

"Thank you, Mor. Your hard work is much appreciated here," Rhysand says, his grin growing wider as he rises from his seat, knowing it'd only irritate Cassian further.

He catches the glare Cassian sends his way. "20 coins," Rhysand reminds him, holding his hand out expectantly.

"In a way," Cassian begins, not wanting to accept his loss. "I helped you win the bet!"

"That's not my problem." Rhysand replies with a smug shrug.

Cassian grumbles and digs into his pocket. He throws all twenty coins at Rhysand's face, who easily intercepts them with a wave of his hand. They fall gracefully into the palm of his hand instead.

Mor laughs as she also rises from her seat. Twenty coins is nothing to them. It's barely enough to buy a cheap bottle of wine.

Cassian follows shortly after, the three of them scurrying inside and wanting to catch a glimpse of you and Azriel holding hands in person. Although, they find you nestled on the couch with baby Nyx in your lap. You rub the elixir you had made earlier over Nyx's gums, smiling when you feel the babe relax in your arms, as you tell Feyre all about your venture earlier.

Azriel is seated on the armest of the couch right next to you, cutting into your story when he deems necessary. Everyone takes note of the way his hand is resting on the small of your back and one of his wings instinctively curls around your smaller form. They also take note of the lingering scent of your bond in the air, stronger now that you both have acknowledged the bond. Cedar and lavender.

a/n: I considered the whole Nyx being in pain to be a lie, a glamor made by Feyre to trick reader into having to go scavenge for dandelion root but decided it was better to just have Cassian and Mor be sneaky instead :)

#azriel drabble #azriel imagine #azriel x reader #azriel x witch!reader #az!dandelions #thank you for the ask!

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beanieboosstuff · 1 month

Text

Miso Soup - Mizu x Reader

Pairing: Mizu x Fem!Reader

Quote: Hello :) . First time posting something like this here on Tumblr, I apologize for any mistake and please be kind to me. 😭

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POV: Mizu doesn't admit her jealousy and you decide to share your Miso soup to improve her mood.

Mizu doesn't get jealous that easily. Why would she? She has never had a reason to.

She's on a path of revenge, seeking vengeance against the white men that made her this way, impure— But the way her lungs ache every time she sees you and Taigen laughing about something stupid or him blabbing his mouth off near you, just because you're friendly enough to entertain his hundredth story about a duel that he won. Is he really that entertaining to you, that he manages to make your mouth quirk up in that sickly, saccharine smile?

Can you blame her? How is Mizu supposed to not be jealous when Taigen, Taigen of all people gets to make you laugh and grin in such a sweet way? She hated it. She despised it.

Which is why—Mizu's eyebrow twitches in irritation, blue eyes that are hidden by her tinted shows following every movement and action in front of her with narrowed eyes. Watching you, again, raising your eyebrow playfully at whatever idiotic thing Taigen said to you, huffing to herself from resentment.

Her eyes were trained on you, not even noticing Ringo sending her a subtle look, before dragging off Taigen, both of them having a small, smug understanding of the situation. You don't seem to notice this, as you stop by a nearby stall to look at the intricate trinkets the merchant was selling. Before long, you feel a small, almost faint touch on your waist.

"Is he really that funny?" Mizu asks— no grumbles lowly, tilting her head as she looks into your eyes from under her kasa. She stands close to your back, her calloused hand having found it's way securely on your waist as she furrows her eyebrows. Was she... pouting?

You looked slightly at her lips when the pout was still apparent. Adorable. Turning your gaze to her eyes, a confused expression forms on your face.

“Who?” You asked as tilted your head slightly to the side, trying to decipher the question.

"Taigen." Mizu stated, almost sounding... irritated by the subject. "Is he really…that funny? He only babbles on about himself and his duels.." Mizu paused as a small frown appeared on her sharp lips.

"I do not see how you find him entertaining. He doesn't ever say anything funny, just brags. Yet you look at him and smile like that..." She stated quietly as she glared into your eyes.

“Taigen?” You asked digesting everything that the woman with the blue eyes told you. Little by little, you understood why she asked that.

“I find funny how pretentious he could be, he's definitely like every other man.” Replying by rolling your eyes smiling as you remembered how self-centered man can be.

Mizu huffed quietly to herself at the small response. She hated it, she really did. She had sworn herself to this revenge, and yet— the way you laughed when you and Taigen joked together... the way you smiled softly when he complimented you.

There was not a single moment in which you and Taigen weren't having fun or laughing and smiling, and she hated it. She hated that those pretty lips of yours were always smiling. "Is that it?" She asked, sounding almost disappointed with your answer.

Still confused by the topic of the conversation, you take a trinket from the tent and begin to observe the object as you prepare to formulate an answer.

“He's not funny, his egocentrism is.” You concluded by raising your gaze to face the tallest one next to you.

"You find his ego funny?" Mizu asked with an inquisitive tone. She had barely let go of your waist when she leaned more towards you, watching you closely and narrowing her eyebrows as if sizing your up.

She wanted to know the truth, not some sugar coated lie— but there was no need. You actually did find his ego funny, but that's not the point. "He never says anything funny, just brags and makes an ass of himself. But that makes you laugh?" She asked with a slight scowl.

Stop touching the object, for a moment you are silent digesting Mizu's persistent question. Putting the object again on the tent table you turn to Mizu, watching her face.

“It makes me laugh because all I could think about is if someone would be able to love someone like Taigen. He is definitely not interesting in a female gaze, at least not in my gaze.” You responds calmly, shrugging in the last part.

“Is this answer enough and enlightening for you?” You ask by raising your eyebrows.

"Does it not bother you that he is always trying to flirt with you?" She asked quickly, her voice sounding low and quiet. She tilted her head and continued questioning you relentlessly.

"That he's always touching you... trying to hug you or grab your hand." Mizu asked quietly as her jaw clenched from irritation, the muscles on her arm tensing up as she tried to hold herself back.

Frown your eyebrows with Mizu's question, now making sense of why they are having this conversation. You approach her slightly, noticing her irritation on her face.

“You jealous, Mizu?” Murmurs low just so she could hear. You tilt your head to the side in an attempt to see her face.

"Jealous?" She asked quietly, sounding both amused and irritated. Her blue eyes twinkled with a faint smile as she raised an eyebrow and scoffed quietly.

"No." She tried to push away the subtle flush that graced her cheeks. "I'm not jealous." Mizu paused, leaning back from you lightly as she sighed quietly.

"Taigen and his stupid flirting doesn't bother me." She stated quickly, sounding slightly irritated still.

Surprised by Mizu's stubbornness in not admitting that she felt jealous, you look to the side seeing Taigen in a Misô tent along with Ringo. Looking back at Mizu, you smiled with a false air of innocence.

“If that had bothered you, I would be willing to ask him to stop...” You started, staring at her to know her reaction. “But you say you don't mind, so neither do I.” You shrug a smile.

Mizu huffer quietly to herself as her cheeks flushed even more brightly. Her jaw was tensed, wanting to argue the point with all of her will but couldn't.

Why couldn't she just admit it? It was a stupid question, anyways. She was just a little envious that someone as handsome as Taigen liked you that much, was what she was going to tell herself.

"It doesn't bother me!" She repeated slightly louder, though it sounded more like a half-truth than anything.

You face her once again waiting for another answer, but as she was too stubborn to admit it, you just accepted that the answer Mizu gave you would be just that.

“If you say so.” Shrug deep sighing, moving away from the samurai and heading towards Ringo and Taigen, craving to eat Miso.

She watched as you walked off to Taigen and Ringo, and she wanted to follow, to argue some more about whether she was actually jealous or not. But she didn't. Instead, she just huffed quietly to herself as she looked down at the ground and closed her eyes with a small sigh.

Why was it so hard to admit that Taigen's flirting bothered her? Why did she care so much?

Still walking towards the food stall, you turn your face back in an attempt to find Mizu's eyes, but all you could see was her looking at the floor. In a heavy sigh turning forward again.

“Hey guys, already chosen the food?” You ask smiling excited as soon as you get closer to Taigen and Ringo, receiving a kind smile from both of them.

Taigen nodded briefly at you as his grin widened and he put an arm around Ringo gently. "We got the pork miso." He commented, sounding more than a little flirty. He even smiled more widely which was enough for you to catch onto the fact that he was trying to get your attention.

“You coming with us?” He asked— but this time his words were focused solely on you, as though he ignored Mizu's presence completely approaching.

You face them both and smile, agreeing. “That's sounds good. I think I want one.” You speak approaching the bowls, bending slightly to smell the soup while closing your eyes.

Taigen smirked as his eyes wandered to your exposed back, and before you could even do anything about it, he came up behind you and grabbed you by the hip, wrapping his hand around your waist like some sort of jealous boyfriend— and he held you close. He even leaned down, placing his hand in the small of your back which made the two of you even closer.

Opening your eyes widely surprised by the sudden touch on your back. You look back and see Taigen next to you smiling, frown your eyebrow confused by his act. Through your peripheral vision, you see Mizu behind him observing this whole situation.

Keeping eye contact with Mizu for a few seconds, you quickly take Taigen's hand out of your body, getting up completely. Looking at the man inside the stall and smile politely while placing your order.

Taigen looked at you in surprise as you ripped yourself away from his grasp, and he watched as you ordered politely from the person running the miso stall. He smirked awkwardly and glanced over at Ringo, probably expecting him to say something witty, but the big one just hummed in disagreement.

Mizu continued to watch the whole scene quietly, not making any reaction. She did, however, observe the fact that you refused to let Taigen touch you, as if his flirtations actually bothered you.

Taking your bowl and bowing in thanks to the man, you turn towards the three who were waiting for you. Ringo and Taigen already had their bowls in their hands, only Mizu who didn't ask for anything.

You approach Mizu, while putting a portion to your mouth, letting out a moan of satisfaction. “This tastes amazing. Here, try it.” You say rolling some noodles in the chopsticks and raising it to the height of Mizu's mouth.

Mizu hesitated when you raised the bowl above her, her eyes narrowing. She was about to brush it off and simply turn away but then suddenly her curiosity got the better of her. Mizu slowly lifted her head and cautiously opened her mouth, ready to bite into your offering. She took a small piece of the meal that you offered to her and bit into it, chewing slowly.

Seeing Mizu leaning so close to your hand made you feel a growing heat on your cheeks. Cleaning your throat by putting the chopsticks inside the bowl.

“Good right?” You whisper afraid of your voice getting weak if raise a tone.

Mizu swallowed the piece of noodles in her mouth, nodding quietly as a small smile appears on her lips.

"It is, very good..." She stated quietly— though there was no trace of any awkwardness or embarrassment from her tone of voice. Mizu's eyes glanced to the side, not willing to meet your gaze for long. There was a slight blush spreading across her cheeks, but she tried to force the color out of her.

Also looking to the side, you realize that Taigen and Ringo were already out of your field of vision, getting lost in the middle of the stall.

Turning your attention to the bowl, mixing the soup a little more. “If you want to, I can share with you my meal.” You say shrugging while still staring at the food.

Mizu didn't want to admit that she was liking the attention you were giving her, that she felt her heart completely warm. She wanted to be close to someone, but at the same time she was hesitant, scared of getting close because it always ended in pain. So in the end, she would just do the opposite, distance herself from people.

She paused for a second as she noticed the two of you were now alone by the miso stall. "I would like that..." She said quietly, her tone of voice showing a small amount of vulnerability.

“Right.” You whisper smiling, as you took her hand and guided her to a bench further away.

Without realizing it, your action implied a new direction for the relationship of the two of you. Making Mizu felt seen, felt important in some type of way.

#mizu x reader #blue eye samurai #blue eyed samurai

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autisticlancemcclain · 7 months

Text

Keith walks into his room after a deliciously vigorous training season, wiping his sweaty face with a towel, and immediately notices something is off.

He freezes, towel clamped to the back of his neck, and carefully scans his room from corner to corner. His lock was still intact when he walked in, so unlikely break-in. His bed is still exactly as messy as it was when he left it. His dresser drawer is still left cracked slightly open, as he always leaves it, because it’s harder to put a drawer back to the same level of open it was before than to close it (he’s caught Hunk snooping through his shit many a time with this method. Thanks, Pa’s paranoia).

His gaze lands finally on a nondescript black book on his nightstand, and his eyebrows shoot up. He finished his book this morning and returned it to the library on his way to the training room.

He did not leave that black book there.

Wary, a thousand anxieties running through his brain, Keith approaches his nightstand bayard-first, sword extended and sharp. He pauses before he comes in contact, taking time to analyse it, attempt to puzzle out any kind of traps or discrepancies before they jump out at him. He can’t see any — the book is on the newer side, with a roughened black hardcover, gold detailing on the spine but no title or author. The paper looks thick and it’s strangely uncut, raggedy.

Hesitantly, Keith pokes it.

Nothing happens.

Less suspicious, now, he prods at it with his hands, and when that does nothing, he picks it up. It’s heavier than he expected. He cracks open the cover to reveal a red paper lining. Stuck to the inside of the cover is a baby blue post-it note, crookedly place, with only a neatly drawn heart in glitter gel pen. Keith can’t help the smile, even as his eyebrows furrow in confusion.

“What even…”

Pinching the first page from the bottom corner so as to not accidentally rip any paper, he slowly turns it over.

He gasps, fumbling with the book as he nearly drops it.

“How did it…”

He recognises the first page — it’s his. Or he made it, anyway. Scrawled in every white space of the nearly parchment-esque alien paper is his own doodling, from a boring meeting several weeks back. He recognises the slightly mean drawing of the Capnir leader and his snooty expression in the left corner, and the ninety games of tic-tac-toe he played with Lance on the bottom half of the page (Lance insisted he won because he is a nasty cheater. Keith didn’t even know it was possible to cheat at tic-tac-toe, but it is. It’s crazy).

Gobsmacked, Keith begins to flip through the rest of the pages, eyes getting wider and nose getting closer to the book with every corner he turns. These are his doodles and drawings — hundreds of them, loose papers from meetings and scrawled diagrams from mission plans and notes to other paladins and dorky little drawings he made for his friends or because of his own boredom. There are grocery lists covered in drawings of engine parts and knives and strange alien vegetables, hand-to-hand manoeuvre diagrams, several drawings of Shiro as Captain America, of Pidge and Hunk covered in soot except for the line around their eyes from their goggles, of Allura with the mice in her hair, Coran in the wackiest outfit he’s ever seen, Shiro with his eye twitching from Slav, Matt making goo eyes at Allura. Some of Kolivan, even, with over-exaggerated eyebrows and a frown that touches his neck.

And dozens, maybe even hundreds, of drawings of Lance. Smirking at Keith from across the kitchen table before he instigates a Pidge-Hunk argument, crowing in victory after making a shot, serious and focused mid battle, face drooping and sad and fixed on a glowing blue Earth projection with his chin hooked over his knees. Drawings that itched at Keith’s fingers every hour of every day, that he barely tried to resist; snapshots of Lance that plagued his mind ‘til he finally found time to grab a pencil.

Drawings that he had, apparently, left scattered all over the castle without thinking.

He cradles his flaming face in his free hand, heart pounding in his ears. He’s sure — he knows he threw half of these out. Some of them he left lying around, sure, and others he left out deliberately for his friends to find, but — Keith knows he threw out the full-page and coloured portrait of Lance, bright and beautiful in a dozen shades of earth, smiling softly at Keith in the low-light of the common room well after midnight. He can see the creases and smudges from where he’d crumpled it, embarrassed, and where someone had fished it out of the trash and carefully straightened it back out, brushing dust out of the crevices.

“Oh my God.”

Hunk would never have been able to keep the secret with how long it would have taken to bind this book — by hand, by the looks of it. Allura couldn’t either. Both Pidge and Shiro would have been gleeful in mocking Keith about the clear affection in every pencil stroke. Coran would have probably stuck it proudly on the fridge — he did that, once, Keith remembers, with a sketch he’d done of the whole team during a movie night. It’s still there; it’s been so long that Keith doesn’t notice it anymore.

There’s only one person who would pick up the discarded slips of paper and slide them in his pocket — only one person who’s that kind of sentimental. One person who prints every photograph he takes of every planet they’ve ever been on, who pins up every drawing gifted to him by young children no matter how objectively horrible, who tears off notes written in the margins of battle plans and keeps them in a jar on his dresser. Only one person who has a scrapbook with a dried blade of grass from Arus and piece of sea glass from the mermaid planet and a napkin stained with food goo from their food fight all those years ago. Hell, there’s only one person on this castle with enough skill with a needle and thread to bind a whole ass book.

Keith drops his bayard to the floor with a clatter, book clenched in his fist, and sprints out of his room. He flies down the hallway, ignoring the startled shout from Pidge as she jumps out of his way and the wide-eyed stare from Allura. He almost runs straight into his brother, spinning to the right at the last minute and rushing past him without bothering to entertain his questions. He runs all the way to the MedBay, where he knows Lance is taking inventory for Coran, and nearly crashes right into the pods because he’s too pumped up to slow down properly.

“Whoa there, cowboy, cool it before you give yourself a concussion. Christ.”

Lance places a cool hand on his shoulder, concerned, bin of counted bandages left abandoned behind him. Almost immediately his face coils in disgust.

“Aw, gross, you’re sweaty.”

But he doesn’t move his hand.

Keith stares.

How did he — how did he miss it, before?

“Keith?” Lance asks again, alarm clouding his face. “You okay, buddy?”

His fingers curve absentmindedly along the junction of Keith’s neck, and he leans in closer, and he smells so fucking good and he always does and Keith is lightheaded from more than just his cross-castle sprint.

“You’re in love with me,” he blurts, and he didn’t mean to say it like that but there’s no doubt in his words.

Lance startles, yanking his hand back in shock. Keith darts out to stop it, fingers wrapped around his wrist, keeping him from going far. Lance’s breath hitches.

“…What?”

“You’re in love with me,” Keith repeats, steadier this time. He waits a moment, then says, much more urgently: “The book.”

Mortification rings off Lance in waves.

“Oh,” he croaks. His pulse is so loud and so fast that Keith can feel it in his wrist. “I didn’t think it was — oh.”

There’s a strange quality to his voice, besides the embarrassment of getting caught, and then it clicks — he’s afraid. Of rejection, of disgust, of Keith. Keith isn’t sure. But he hates that it’s there.

Faster than he can talk himself out of, he cups Lance’s face with his free hand, relishing in the sharp intake of breath, and leans in and kisses him. There’s a moment of rigid shock on Lance’s part and it could spell trouble but Keith holds steady. He keeps his hold loose and the pressure soft and soon Lance — melts, into him, there’s no other word for it; he sinks in close and sighs and the hand Keith has gripped goes slack. His lips are soft, and his hair tickles Keith’s forehead, and Keith can still feel his jackrabbit heartbeat, and he still smells like that intoxicating mix of flowers and — sunshine, somehow, straight from the brightest days in Earth. Keith’s hands have never been steadier.

“You collected my doodles,” he says, staying close when Lance pulls gently away. He can see the deeper browns in Lance’s irises, the places where the gold gives way to near-black. They look like the flecks of the precious metal Keith would see at the bottom of the river mud in the mountains of Arizona.

“They were worth keeping,” Lance says quietly. He holds Keith’s gaze. The tips of his fingers trace Keith’s temples; they’re rough with old guitar callouses.

“You think everything is worth keeping.”

“Only the things that — bleed.”

Keith thinks that they’re both right. Lance can’t leave anything behind because he aches for the soul he finds in it. He finds the worth in everything. He found the worth in Keith.

He found enough to make Keith stay.

Keith grips the book in his right hand, left still cupped around Lance’s cheek. The difference in textures is startling, grounding.

“No one has ever done something like that for me before,” Keith admits. There’s a lump in his throat but Keith thinks it’s manageable, thinks he can talk through it. Thinks he might hold the strength for it.

Lance waits patiently.

“I want to —” Keith stops. He opens the book. The drawn Lance smiles up at him, beautiful. He looks up and Lance smiles over at him, breathtaking. “I —”

He doesn’t know how to say it. It’s there, bubbling in his chest, spilling out of him; obvious. But he doesn’t know the words for it. He’s not sure anyone’s taught him before.

“Okay,” Lance says. He tugs his wrist out of Keith’s grip then laces their hands together, squeezing. His smile only widens and he — sparkles, almost. Keith’s throat goes dry.

“Okay?”

“Yes.”

“Oh.”

“Oh,” Lance repeats, teasing. He leans in again. “I’m going to kiss you again, now.”

“Please,” Keith begs, and he does.

———

based on this post

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i8ickygrl · 5 months

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（⭒ ˘˘）ᵎ🖋️➞﹕ready player one 🪷

featuring: streamer!gojo satoru x fem reader warnings: dubcon, mention of spit, a bit of exhibitionism, blowjob proofread(?): i think so authors note: thank you guys soooo much for the support on my last two fics! this one is a little rushed so i'm not sure if i'll keep it up but my brain was itching to write this concept. don't forget to like, reblog or leave a comment if you can! hope you enjoy! thank you for reading, lovey <3

streamer!gojo who spends so much time around that desk. you know how much he enjoys being a streamer, interacting with his followers and basically getting paid to hang out with his friends all day. but you can’t help but whine when his attention isn’t on you.

“yes, love?” he’d pull one side of his headphones off of his ear and raise an eyebrow.

“what time do you think you’ll be off?” your plump lips formed into a pout.

“soon, baby. i promise.” he’d take one of your hands and rub his thumb over your knuckles loving before turning back to his screen.

it was the same every time. you really didn’t mean to be annoying, you just missed him so much… so how could he blame you for crawling under his desk and seating yourself in between his legs?

streamer!gojo who’s still so caught up in his little game, yelling at someone to revive him. not to worry though. his attention would be all on you soon enough. you smooth your hair behind your shoulders and lick your lips before sliding your hands over his knees.

streamer!gojo jumps slightly at the feeling, stopping his sentence mid way and looking down at you. you smile sweetly and bring your finger up to your lips, silently shushing him.

streamer!gojo who plays off his sudden change in demeanor, making up some dumb excuse. his eyes are wide as he tries to refocus his attention, feeling you palm him through his shorts.

you feel his cock twitch under your grip, looking up at him through your lashes and smiling wickedly. feeling him close to being fully hard, you tug at the waistband of his shorts signaling him to lift his hips.

streamer!gojo glances anxiously at the chat, noticing a few “you good?”s but nothing too alarming yet. he didn’t know how far you’d take it but he was sure he could play it off.

he was in his boxers now and you smiled further before sliding your hand into the slip and pulling his cock out. you hummed happily at the sight and began slow strokes around the tip, watching his length grow in your hands.

you hear his breath hitch above you and it only encourages you to go further. you place your other hand around the base and stroke faster, giving him kitten licks every now and then as his pink tint began to swell from the stimulation.

streamer!gojo who’s face is starting to contort is pleasure. he attempts to clench his jaw to hide it but its a bit too far gone now. he looks down at you, seeing you begin blissfully sucking his cock. your head bobbed in rhythm with the hand you twisted at the base as you happily and hummed around him.

“uhhmmm… is he okay?”

“bro does your stomach hurt or something?”

“gojo??”

he glances at the chat and curses under his breath before hearing a loud voice blare through his headphones.

“LOCK THE FUCK IN SATORU!”

“i’m sorry, ma- fuuck.”

streamer!gojo who looks down at you, your shirt off now and his cock wet with your spit. your mouth was opened slightly as you looked up at him, panting and silently encouraging him to cum for you. god, he wished he could take a picture. you looked so damn perfect.

streamer!gojo is close to his limit now, barely trying to hide the way he lovingly looks down into your eyes and sighs in pleasure.

suddenly you push your breasts up against his cock and he swears he could cum right there. you pump his length, still keeping eye contact, and your lips moves to say something barely above a whisper.

“come play with me gojo.” a moan slipping past your lips as you speak.

streamer!gojo is immediately ripping off his headphones, spewing apologies to his chat while whoever he was playing with screams through his headphones. he frantically closes various screens and waves bye to his chat before hurriedly guiding you towards him by your chin, surprising you with a deep, heated kiss.

“let’s go finished what you started.”

#💌! lanis drabbles #jujutsukaisensmut #jjk x reader #jjk #jjk gojo #jjk smut #jujutsu kaisen smut #jujutsu gojo #satoru gojo #gojo x reader #gojo smut #gojo x you #gojou satoru x reader #gojo x y/n #gojo x black reader #gojo x black y/n

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chronicbeans · 3 months

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Let's Make a Deal! (Yandere Queerplatonic Alastor x Fallen Angel Reader)

Part 2: Let's Talk

Part 1, Part 3

Tag list: @repostingmyfavs

TW: Dirty Jokes, Cannibalism, Implied Stalking

You've lived in the Hazbin Hotel long enough to meet most everyone, now... meaning, two days. Everybody is so eccentric, that it's hard not to meet them, even when they barely leave their rooms. However, you have been noticing Alastor following you around, often... Eyeing you, as if trying to size you up.

You have been having a hard time adjusting due to his stares. Everybody seems relatively safe to be around, except for the deer man. So, you plan to confront him. By confronting, you mean just talking normally. Maybe he's just curious? He certainly seems like a man who doesn't understand social cues, so perhaps he doesn't realize how much he's unnerving you? You shouldn't judge him so quickly...

You begin searching around the Hazbin Hotel for Alastor. It proves difficult, since you still don't know your way around the building very well. That, and whenever you want to find Alastor, it's as if he hides from you. As you make your way down one of the various halls, you notice Angel Dust talking to Cherri Bomb. He looks over to you, waving. "Hey, toots! You looking for someone?"

You pause, before walking over to him. "Yeah. Have you seen Alastor?" Angel raises an eyebrow, before shrugging. "Nope. Have you looked in his radio tower?" "I don't know where his room is, Angel." Angel then pauses, before laughing "Oh! With how much he watches you, I would've expected him to invite you to visit his office, if you catch my drift?"

You feel your face flush, only for you to shake your head. "No! He doesn't talk to me, often. That's why I want to talk to him. He keeps watching me, but doesn't talk to me..." Cherri grins, nodding. "Yeah. Creepy fuck is like that. If you want to check his broadcasting station, it's near his room. You'll notice it. It's hard to miss it." "Thank you."

You quickly head up to the top floor. The halls of the hotel feel eerily empty. There's still not that many guests, so most of the floors are empty. Once you find an elevator, you hop inside, taking it all the way up... then, once the doors open, you see Alastor as you step out. You let out a squeak of shock as you see him, causing him to laugh.

"Oh, dear! I know I'm scary, but I never knew my mere presence was a fright!" He looks down at you, smiling. "Do you need anything?" You take a deep breath, looking up at him. His eyes seem to follow your every movement, like always. "Yes. I do. Can we talk? I've gotten to know everyone here, but not you."

His ears twitch a bit, his lips pulling back a little as his grin becomes strained. "What, dear? A simple conversation was so pertinent that you needed to come looking for me?" You instantly point to him upon hearing those words. Your wings flutter as you realize you caught him so easily. "That! That's why! How'd you know I was looking for you?!" You then tense, hearing an odd noise being emitted from him... Kinda like an elk or something.

Alastor leans forward towards you, his brows furrowed in anger, despite his grin being wider than ever. "Clever bird... Fine. You'll get your conversation." He then stands up tall, grabbing his microphone as he acts calm. "Follow me. We'll talk in your room. It's a calming atmosphere, especially with the changes you've made to it." He then begins walking to your room before you can even answer. Unwilling to fight him about it, you just follow along.

You enter your room. As Alastor walks by the fireplace, the wood inside bursts into flames, that red and pink hue returning. Then, he turns on the heel of his foot, sitting on one of the two plush armchairs in front of it. "Come now. You wanted to talk, so that's what we're going to do." He then gestures to the chair across from him, implying you should sit there.

Taking a deep breath, you walk over to him, stretching your wings out for a second, before sitting down. Unfortunately, you are stuck with your wings constantly present, a bit like Husk. You can't summon and hide them, like Lucifer or Vaggie... so, sitting down in chairs that have backs to them, like these plush chairs, tend to make your wings sore after a while. You look over to him as you sit down, nodding. "Yes... Let's talk."

Alastor leans back in his seat, folding his hands together on his lap as he crosses his legs, sitting politely. "So, my dear, what is it that you wish to speak about?" "Whatever you want to." "... What?" You sigh, leaning forward in your seat. "What do you wish to know about me? I've seen you watching me, so I assume you are interested in something about me? What is it?"

He grows silent, before leaning forward. "You are an angel, yes? A fallen one. How did you fall, dear?" Of course it was that question, first. You cross your arms, sighing. "That's quite a personal question... fine, though. Somebody lied, and was able to convince the court to cast me out of Heaven." You watch Alastor's eyes seem to glow with excitement. His leg bounces a bit as he responds. "A complete lie? Well, that's intriguing... it seems like Heaven works on a faulty system... How about a lighter topic, now? What do you like to eat?"

You nod, smiling. "(Fav. Food). I think it's tasty. And you?" Alastor chuckles softly. Then, he places his hand under his chin, tapping his cheek in thought. "I'd say... Jambalaya, since it reminds me of my mother. Otherwise, I love raw meat." You tense up, your wings flinching a bit. "Raw meat...?" He then cackles, looking at you with dark eyes. "You'd be surprised! As long as the meat is fresh, properly sourced and prepared, it's safe to eat raw... Of course, it's good to avoid raw chicken and fowl. But beef, venison, pork...? They're delicious raw. I also like a little nibble of humans and demons, from time to time..."

You tense even more. You are now wondering if he has a taste for angels... he probably does. "I see... um..." "Yes, dear. I'd eat an angel. You're not on the menu, though." "Okay." You look around awkwardly, before he asks another question. "Are you afraid of me?" "Yes. I am."

He chuckles, again, nodding. "Understandable, dear. Though, you shouldn't be. I'm here to help protect those in the hotel. You're a guest. So, I am here to protect you." He then stands up, taking a few steps over to the door. He pauses once he walks by you, grinning a sharp toothed grin. He looks like a a Cheshire cat, as he looks down to you. "Plus, you may be useful for something. However, that is a story for another day. For now, just relax." "How am I supposed to relax when I'm living in the same hotel as a cannibal?" "Cannibals have hearts, too, you know! More than most, since you are what you eat!"

He then cackles, again, walking out of the room. You can swear that his radio filter plays some audience laughter, too. He must think that joke is hilarious. What does he mean by "you may be useful"? Your mind is swirling with questions... For now, though, you just hope he'll stop watching you...

#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel alastor #hazbin alastor #alastor hazbin #alastor the radio demon #alastor hazbin hotel #alastor #hazbin hotel x reader #alastor x reader #queerplatonic #yandere hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel yandere #x reader

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mediumgayitalian · 1 month

Text

———

For some reason the lack of a little jingling bell throws her off.

It’s a quintessential diner thing, she supposes. A little bell above the door. There’s the weird decor and the pressed cotton uniforms and the yelling chef and the little bell. It was in both Back to the Future one and two. That’s how she knows she’s right.

But when she pushes open the door with windows so caked with grime she can hardly see through them, there is no little jingle. And when she looks up at the door frame, eyebrows furrowed, it seems sad and lonely. She’s never been so aware of the lack of a sound, the absence of a noise. It makes the rest of the silence of the diner seem eerie, wrong. Dead.

She takes a hesitant step forward, door swinging shut behind her. She realizes as she approaches the ordering counter that her hand rests palm cupped on her belly, and removes it immediately.

“Hello?”

There are a couple groups of people in the back, talking quietly over their food. It doesn’t make the diner seem any less abandoned, somehow. If anything it feels like a TV playing on mute in a hospital. Saturated static.

“Seat yourself, girl. You ain’t never been to a diner before?”

The woman that speaks is tall and plump and harsh-looking. A very strange mixing of features. They’re at odd with the diner-specific yellow uniform she wears, collar pressed but skirt wrinkled. Apron dusted with flour and streaked with machine oil. Face pinched, eyes hard, black hair resting in dainty ringlets along her shoulders. Her name tag only reads the name of the business.

“A couple,” Naomi defends. “One even had a hostess.”

The woman — who must be a manager — raises an eyebrow.

“You see a hostess’ station?”

“No.”

“Then why haven’t you sat yourself?”

“‘Cause I’m not here to eat.”

“Well, then, get the hell out of my restaurant.”

Naomi holds her gaze, tilting up her chin. She will not be swayed by orneriness. “I need a job.”

The manager eyes her critically. Naomi’s hands twitch, and the top of her head feels suddenly itchy. Summer before highschool she’d wrote her first resume — Mama’d drawn her a bath and sat behind her and spent two hours slowly untangling the ratty mess of curls on her head with nothing but a bottle of cheap jasmine conditioner and her own two fingers, telling her about lasting first impressions.

“Go home, kid.”

“I’m not a fu —” She stumbles over her words at the last second, catching herself before that eyebrow can climb any higher. It does, and the other eyebrow begins to climb with it, but she rights herself and powers on. “I can vote,” she says finally. “I can throw on a uniform and get blown up across seas. I can — I can adopt a child, if I so choose. Right now.”

The eyebrows reach critical height, brushing the end of her carefully teased hairline. Naomi watches them and their inspiring journey with intensity, instead of noticing how the manager’s eyes drop down to her stomach, linger, and then return to her face.

“You gonna adopt it right outta your womb, or what?”

Naomi snaps her mouth shut.

“Well,” she says, and nothing else.

The manager sighs. “This ain’t a charity.”

Naomi barely manages to bite the snark back from her voice before she speaks.“I’m not asking for charity. I’m asking for work.”

Eyes shifting to the tables in the back, the manager leans over the counter, long fingers wrapping around the handle of a coffee pot so old the handle has worn right down to plain metal, and walks over to a beckoning customer. She fills a man’s mug with her lips pressed thin, offering a napkin to a child in a high chair.

“And why would I hire some pregnant kid?”

The customer pushes over a stack of plates without moving his eyes from the newspaper in front of him. There’s a woman on the other side of the table, holding a spoon out to the little kid, eyes desperate and tight smile slipping when the kid’s pudgy fist hits and sends the scoop of scrambled eggs flying. The man brings the coffee to his lips and waves the manager away.

“It’s illegal for an employer to discriminate against a pregnant person,” Naomi says finally. That had been drilled into her head by her Mama, too. That and how to keep her finances separate. She’ll have real trouble with that, what with the zero dollars she’ll have by the end of the week.

“Good thing I’m not your employer, then.” The manager sets the plates by a soapy sink, putting the coffee pot back on the hot plate. “Get lost.”

I am lost, Naomi almost says, almost slamming a hand in the counter to catch herself from her suddenly weak knees. She watches the manager watch her, tight little frown furling the corner of her mouth, through the blur of her eyes, swallowing hard around the lump in her throat.

“Please,” she says, too quiet, then tries again: “Please.”

The manager disappears behind a short half-wall, following the sound of an oven dinging. Naomi gasps silently, bowing over the counter, breathing heavily. She curls her hands into fists and presses them, hard, one to her chest and one right under her ribs. Ka-thump, ka-thump, kickkickkick. Kickkick ka-thump, ka-thump, ka-kickthump.

There’s an echoing clatter as a hot tray slams on a stove top. Scrambling upright, Naomi lifts the little door on the counter, scanning the space. The register is ancient and yellowed, buttons so worn with use the labels have worn away. There’s a thread-thin mat at the base of it. The counters are clean but scratched, walls stained but dust-free. The coffeemaker gurgles pathetically. An apron hangs from a hook nailed to the wall by the kitchen window.

As quietly as she can, Naomi slips it over her head. It’s tight around the waist, so she folds it once and ties it around her ribs, instead, letting the straps dangle loosely at the butt of her jeans. She ties her hair quickly behind her head and steps up to the creaky sink, silently moving the pile of dishes to the empty counter. When the clatter in the kitchen starts up again, she turns the water on as quick as she can — hack gurgle rush — and squeezes the mostly empty soap bottle as hard as she can to make up a lather.

“Hell are you doing?” says the manager gruffly, two pies balancing on her oven mitt hands.

Naomi shrugs.

“You deaf, or stupid?”

She thinks if laughter like a lyre and sun golden hair, plucking at her out-of-tune guitar string and asking a similar question. The ghost of a smile pulls across her face.

“Not deaf. And that’s rude.”

A pie plate crinkles under the press of a knife, and the scent of candy cherry mixes with slightly-burnt coffee. Makes her think of Grammy’s house, the smell of the jams she spent sixty years making soaked permanently in the wooden foundations. The manager finishes plating the pie slices and sliding them under the display glass around the same time Naomi suds up the last dirty mug. She watches her red-painted finger tap, tap, tap on her bicep out of the corner of her eye as she rinses it off.

Unplugging the sink, dirty water gurgling as it drains, she points a hesitant elbow at the dishtowel tucked into the managers pocket. She grabs it, threading it around her fingers, twisting the worn pink tail.

“Freezer broke two days ago.” She picks at a loose thread ‘til it pulls clean from the rest of the fabric, balling it up and sliding it into her pocket. She tugs on the fabric one last time, then tosses it, bundled, into Naomi’s waiting hands. “Tables in the back better have their bill by the time I get back from fixin’ it.”

Naomi hunches over the sopping dishes to hide her smile, listening to the scritch scritch click of the manager’s shoes as she stomps away.

———

Di doesn’t believe in paycheques.

“Great way to get ripped off,” she likes to grumble, slapping a stack of 20s bundled in a stapled piece of notebook paper into Naomi’s hands every Friday. She doesn’t think much of taxes, either, or lawyers, or racecar drivers. Naomi doesn’t quite understand that last one, but she knows better than to ask. As far as she’s concerned she’s still on probation, and probably will be if she works at the diner for another four months. Or the rest of her life.

On one hand, Naomi doesn’t have a bank account, so a cheque would be useless to her anyway. The cash she can use immediately and whenever she needs it. On the other hand, which is currently occupied with sewing back closed the hole she gouged in her backseat for the seventeenth week in a row, she has nowhere exactly to put that money, so it stresses her out.

Maybe she should look into an apartment.

Of course there are no apartment buildings in Sheffield. But she’s pretty sure Iraan is a big enough town to have a couple, as squat as they may be, and it’s only a twenty minute drive. There’s more to do there, too, so maybe she’d actually have a reason to take a day off every week. It’s not like she can buy a damn house with the less-than 3000 dollars she has saved up.

Waddling out of her car, she ducks into the diner. You’d think she’d be used to the lack of bell, now, but she finds that she still anticipates it; finds that her brain still quietly signals to her ears to prep for it. It always sets her off, a little.

“You’re late,” says Di critically, uniform hanging over her arm, foot tap tap-ing on the linoleum floor.

“I don’t have a starting time,” Naomi says lightly. “On account that I am not your employee.“

Di huffs, rolling her eyes. Naomi rolls them right back, snatching the uniform from her arms on the way to the bathroom. She has to wear Di’s, now, because she doesn’t fit into her old one. Di is much taller and broader than her and the stupid thing hangs down to her mid-calf, awkwardly drowning her shoulders, but it’s the only thing wide enough to cover her belly and Di refuses to let Naomi just wear her regular clothes.

(“You’re indecent,” she always says, sneering at her jean shorts, but Naomi has learned to translate you’re indecent but also you can’t have bare legs around hot oil, which she’s come to appreciate. Sure, Di makes her clean the bathroom whether or not she needs to crawl around in her knees to stay balanced, but she doesn’t want her burned to death, at least. That’s something.)

“And your hair’s unwashed,” she adds, as if Naomi had not walked away. She reaches up and adjusts Naomi’s collar, like that is going to do anything to change the fact that she looks like she’s wearing a collapsed tent. “You’re going to drive customers away.”

Naomi doesn’t say, you open before the community centre does, so I can’t shower in the mornings. She does not say, I spent last night trying to change the oil on my car when I couldn’t lie down to reach it. She doesn’t say, I’m too scared to sleep in the community centre parking lot, because my windows aren’t tinted and I don’t know what’ll wake me up.

She says, “The only thing scaring customers away is your busted attitude,” and scurries into the kitchen before Di can order her to clean the friers.

———

Naomi’s favourite part of the diner is the radio.

She can’t believe that Di allows it, what with her general distaste for joy in all of its forms. But it’s balanced on the window sill watching over the oven, antenna extended out the torn screen, dials permanently stuck on an old forgotten country channel. Naomi likes to hum along as she works, frying potatoes or kneading dough, twirling around the kitchen with a mop or a broom. It’s nice even when she’s cramping, even when her feet are sore — she likes hollering along to Dolly Parton when she knows Di is listening, want to move ahead, but the boss won’t seem to let me, likes the way her little parasite goes absolutely buck wild whenever Willie Nelson comes on. She can hear it even when she’s in the dining area, plates balanced all up her arms (and on her belly, too, which is one of the many things she has discovered it’s useful for), humming along to scratching dorks and scritching napkins, working 9 to 5, what a way to make a livin’.

She amuses herself often by making up lives for the various patrons. They’re close enough to the main highway that they get all sorts driftin’ in, from families with bratty kids who upend their food on the floor for Naomi to clean to men in starched suits who never leave a tip. The regulars she’s gotten to know, like the older, stocky, short-haired woman called Bella who smiles softly at her and leaves more than double her bill every breakfast. Or the two young men, college seniors, she thinks, who come in every Saturday afternoon and laugh loudly and talk about strange subjects and rope her into their conversations when there’s no one around and she’s bored.

Other patrons, though, strangers, she speculates. Like there’s a man in the farthest back corner, now, hunched over in the peeling green vinyl seats, scrawling frantically in a tiny notebook. She imagines he’s a private investigator, chasing a lead, about to discover that the woman on a date on the other end of the diner is cheating on her husband of fifteen years.

“Naomi, if you don’t get your ass back to work.”

She throws her hands up. “There’s nothing to do!”

Di observes the half-empty diner, noting the clean tables, neat counters, sparkling kitchen. Each customer sitting satisfied in their table, coffee mugs full, plates still hefty with food.

“Clean the grout.”

Scowling, Naomi stomps to the kitchen, wrenching open the cupboard under the counter and yanking out the Mr. Clean and scrub brush. It’s an ordeal and a half to get on the floor, wincing at the extra weight on her knees, sitting back on her heels with every spray and keeping one hand on her belly while the other scrubs. I Got Stripes by Johnny Cash starts playing through the radio, and she grits out the lyrics with every drag of the brush through the tiles.

“— and then chains, them chains, they’re ‘bout to drag me down —”

A pair of worn black boots come stomping into her line of vision. Naomi finishes scrubbing at a stubborn smear of grease, relishing in how it submits under her power, then rests her weight on her tired hands and tilts her chin up to glare up at her boss.

“I got stripes, stripes around my shoulders,” she sings defiantly, “chains, chains around my feet —”

“I should whip you, you damn drama queen,” Di says darkly, glaring right back. “Had three separate customers come on up to me askin’ me if I’m mistreatin’ ‘that poor young pregnant girl’.”

Naomi smiles triumphantly.

Di scowls, rolling her eyes hard enough to visibly strain her face, and drops some kind of foam pads at her feet. She stomps off without another word, scowling at the radio.

Poking at the pads, Naomi discovers they’re meant to be strapped to her knees. She slips them on, immediately noticing the relief.

For the rest of her shift, she’s an angel.

Di even almost smiles at her.

———

“Naomi, go home.”

“What happened to kid?” Naomi pants, knuckles going white against the counter. She breathes slowly and carefully through her mouth — in, two, three, four, out, two, three, four, in, two — and grits her teeth, staring determinately at the sticky tabletop until the dizziness fades. “I didn’t even know you knew my name.”

“I don’t.” A roughened hand rests on the small of her back, loosening the too-tight apron straps. “You’re sick, kid.”

“I’m fine.”

She tilts forward. Di barely manages to catch her, settling her slowly on the floor without so much as a comment about how heavy she is.

“The diner is empty, Naomi.” The same roughened hand moves up to the back of her neck, untangling the sweaty strands of hair that stick to her skin. Her voice is unusually soft. “You’re nine months pregnant, kiddo. You need to go home. You need to rest —”

“I need to work.”

With great effort, Naomi shoves her away, standing slowly to her feet. The world is still wobbly and bile climbs up her throat, but she pushes forward, hands half-extended beside her. She reaches back for the wet rag, swiping weakly at the table. An onslaught of nausea makes her pause, mouth clamped shut, breathing quick and deep through dry nostrils.

When she speaks again, Di’s voice is hard. “I’m not asking. Get out of my diner. Go home, or you won’t be allowed back. I won’t be accused of killing some dumbass kid who doesn’t know when to quit.”

“I can’t —” she gags, tears springing in her eyes, desperately trying to wrestle back some control of her body — “there’s nowhere, please, Di, let me —”

She slaps a hand to her mouth, heaving. She hasn’t even — she hasn’t eaten all day. The smell of anything makes her want to vomit. The idea of putting anything more in her body makes her want to peel off her skin. She feels — bloated and freakish and ugly; like an unsuspected astronaut on a sieged spaceship.

Like she’s about to burst.

“Oh, for the love of — Naomi, please tell me you are not nine months pregnant and sleeping in your fucking car.”

Naomi says nothing. She squeezes her eyes shut and tries not to think of Mama’s peony-scented perfume.

“Jesus Christ.”

Stomp, click, stomp stomp. Rattling chain, swishing cardboard. Flicking switch. Turning dial, fading music. Stomp, click, stomp stomp.

Two callused hands on her biceps, dragging her upright.

“C’mon, up you get. Where’re your keys?”

A hand digs around in her apron pocket.

“What, d’you fuckin’ run these over or somethin’? The hell’d you fuckin’ do to these things?”

No jingle on the door. A flipped sign.

“No, obviously you can’t — go get in the fuckin’ passenger seat, dumbass. God.”

Di mutters something about stupid kids and stupider adults, for putting up with them. Naomi smiles tiredly. Daddy used to say that all the time, flicking her on the forehead.

“Roll the window down. You need fresh air.”

The slight breeze coming in from the window is helpful, actually. It’s been a disgustingly hot summer, and Naomi has had to sleep with her windows down to avoid suffocating. She wakes up to mosquito bites in places she frankly did not know could be bitten.

“D’you think you’re going into labour?” Di asks quietly, over Dolly’s crooning. Bittersweet memories, that’s all I’m takin’ with me.

Naomi sighs, shaking her head. Already, the nausea has faded into the background. The sweat cools against her skin, and she stops feeling quite so much like she’s going to die.

“No. It’s only been eight months and a little less than two weeks.”

“…You remember the exact date?”

Well, hello, feverish flush. How I’ve missed you so. Will you do me a favour and cook me alive, while you’re here?

“It was a very memorable occasion,” Naomi mumbles, shrinking back into her seat.

“I see.”

Naomi’s never seen Di look quite so amused before. Her whole face softens, and her brown eyes look warm, for once. Naomi would attack her if she had the strength.

Di cruises slowly down Main St, conscientious of the kids ducking in and out of the shops, laughing with their friends. A tween girl looks over at an older boy and whips back over to her friends when he meets her eyes, the whole group of them descending into delighting shrieks. Naomi watches them with a smile and an ache in her chest. She wonders how Molly’s doing. How Esther’s holding up, how Leela is faring. Jen’s at school, now, all the way up in NYC. She hopes they’re well and tries not to hate them for not being here.

Sheffield’s small, and there’s not a street Naomi hasn’t driven down. She spends most of her free time in the community centre pool or the desert around the diner, sure, but she’s been around. When Di turns on Pine St and follows her all the way down, though, she frowns, looking over and asking a wordless question.

Di doesn’t answer. She’s driven them all the way to the other side of town in less than five minutes, pulling into a gravel parking lot and killing the engine.

“C’mon,” she grunts, climbing out of the tiny car and waiting, arms crossed, for Naomi to do the same.

“Sure, sure, let the pregnant woman crawl out of her own seat. Don’t lift a finger or anything.”

Di rolls her eyes.

As soon as Naomi has struggled her way out of the car, which takes her a good four minutes, Di stalks off. In her harried attempt to follow her, Naomi feels like a duck hopped up on an energy drink.

“What kinda money do you have?”

Naomi looks at her strangely. “Uh, what you pay me.”

“Yes, obviously, I meant savings.”

“What you pay me,” Naomi repeats.

Di purses her lips. “Well.”

She does not finish her thought. Instead, she strides down the gravel driveway, heedless of Naomi’s struggle behind her, until she approaches a squat looking building with ‘OFFICE’ printed on the little window.

“She needs a room,” she says to the clerk sitting behind it, gesturing at Naomi.

Naomi looks at her in alarm.

“Di, I can’t —”

“Fifty a night,” responds the man quickly.

“Try again.”

Di’s response is swift and immediate, ignoring Naomi’s tugging hand. She pulls away, resting her hands on her lower back, swivelling her head between Di and the man.

“Rate’s a rate, Di.”

She’s not surprised this man knows Di — everyone knows Di. But the slant to his eyebrows is unfamiliar, the hands clasped easily behind his head. He relaxes back into a leather office chair, heeled boot hiked up to rest in his knee, whistling absentmindedly in the face of Di’s glare.

“Two hundred a week.”

“Not a chance.”

“I’m not asking, Jed.”

The man — Jed — finally starts to look irate, meeting Di’s jaw-set stare with one of his own.

“I’m sorry, I musta missed something. Did you up and buy this place?”

Di doesn’t answer him right away. She never slouches, always standing at her full height, and she’s mighty tall for a woman. For anyone, really. She has a way of planting herself right in front of the sun, no matter where she is. Jed stares up at her, squinting, cast in Di’s shadow everywhere but where he needs to be sheltered.

“You gotta laundry list of shit you done owed me your whole life, Jed.”

Jed just his chin out.

“I don’t owe her shit.”

Blunt fingers wrap around her elbow. “She’s mine.”

“Ain’t how this works, Di.”

“Says who? You?”

For all her intensity, Naomi doesn’t think Di’ll actually fight anyone. If she would, Naomi would’ve gotten her ass kicked months ago.

(She’s mine. Kiddo. You need rest. Roll down the window.)

(…Well.)

Regardless, a flash of fear flits across Jed’s face. He cuts his gaze from Naomi to Di and then back again, pupils shrinking, and then invariably comes to a decision.

“Two fifty,” he snaps, scowling. “Not a penny less, Di.”

Di nods once. “Fine.”

She tightens the hold on Naomi’s elbow, dragging her away from the window. There’s an echoing bang, bang, bang, interspersed with muffled curses, before Jed stumbles out of a door on the side of the scaffolding. He stomps away without looking back, and Di tugs her along to follow.

“Laundry is your own problem. Clean your own shit. If you miss a payment, I’m kicking you out. Clear?”

Naomi stares. Jed standing in front of another low, old building, but this one is much longer, a door posited every dozen or so feet. A plastic chair sits in front of every door, and every door is numbered.

A motel, Naomi realises.

“Clear, kid?”

“Crystal,” Naomi manages, throat dry. Jed practically throws the key at her head, stomping back to the office. Numbly, Naomi slides it in the lock, pushing open the door.

The room isn’t big. There’s a double bed in the middle, a window in the far side and a dresser under it. A TV rests in a dugout shelf in the wall, and there’re two small doors next to it; a closet and a bathroom, Naomi assumes. Smaller than her bedroom back home.

Much, much bigger than her car.

“You’re gonna have to work another ten hours a week to afford this place,” Di says critically. When Naomi looks back at her, she’s lingering at the doorway, staring resolutely at Naomi’s face. Not a spare glance for the room itself.

Naomi does the math fast in her head.

“Twenty hours.”

Di scowls. “Don’t insult me, kid. Ten more hours a week; make sure you’re early tomorrow. I don’t give a shit if you’re sick again, either.”

Naomi swallows. She smooths a hand over the quilt tucked neatly over the bed — it’s soft, if not warm. The pillow is plump.

God, she’s missed pillows.

“Thank you, Di,” she says quietly.

Di makes a small twitching motion with her head that may, in some lighting, be considered a nod, then stalks off. Naomi sinks into the mattress; surprised at how much her feet aches now that she’s off of them.

She swings them up, kicking off her boots, to rest on top of the blanket. She leans against the rickety headboard. She rests her hand on her swollen stomach and slowly, silently, begins to cry.

“You and me and sheer fuckin’ will, kid,” she mumbles, face crumpling. The constant ache in the small of her back lifts, slightly. She stretches her toes as far as they’ll go and cries harder. “We’re gettin’ there. We’re gettin’ there. We’re gettin’ there.”

———

naomi art

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520cafe · 10 months

Text

sour grapes. avoidant and distant?!

as much as you did not want to blame your friends for the sudden and simultaneous ditching, your eye says otherwise and could not help but to twitch in slight frustration. could this really be a coincidence? it seemed too convenient. in constrast to your mind running laps thinking about the potential ulterior motives of your friends, you sat in a peaceful tranquil outside the homely cafe. bringing up the small cup to your face, the comforting and nature-like scent of matcha whirls its way up to your nose like a candle.

taking a sip, its taste immediately made you smile and almost forget about how you would scold your friends once you come back. i’ll forgive them later you thought to yourself as you continue taking sips of the latte in front of you.

however, there was now something odd with the wind. looking up from your cup, you felt your eyebrows slightly raising once your eyes meet face-to-face with a certain pair of blue ones.

no words were exchanged in between, only an uncertain silence blanketing the distance between the two of you as he walked closer and closer towards you. without even realising, he was finally standing in front of you, his sharp gaze directly piercing yours.

dan heng only stood in front of you for barely a few seconds that it can be easily unnoticeable to a passerby but to you, that short amount of time allowed you to capture everything in that moment. the way dan heng’s mouth slightly opened before closing again, the way he was the first to break eye-contact and lose the unintentional staring contest, the way his eyes were longing and desperate and the way he lightly blinked before walking away and opening the door to the cafe without saying a word.

all you were able to do was sigh, your lips formed into a small smile as you pick up your cup again. it was then and there when you finally figured out the true motives behind your friend’s actions.

🍇 SOUR GRAPES 〈 02 avoidant and distant?!

━━ MASTERLIST. ╱ PREV. ╱ NEXT.

╰► SYNOPSIS. after being in the same tight-knit friend group for over a few months now, suspicions begin to rise when march, seele and bronya start to notice the awkward tensions between you and dan heng. little did they know, you and dan heng were once high-school sweethearts who shared a romantic and fairytale-like past where the pages only lasted for a year. this heartbreak led you to meet another unfortunate victim of cupid but that chapter flew away as quick as stardust. yet, it appears that you two were also destined to cross paths once more.

╰► [ a/n ] : first written chapter !! i swear i’ll improve my writing skills as this series goes on 🤕 also, i decided that updates will be every tuesdays and saturdays!

━━ TAGLIST. @jjaedduki @sunsethw4 @shizu-c @amyena @zephestia @loudeggbananaranch @lunavixia @twistedrxses @shinjuuz @danhenglovebot @flos-veritatis @sammy-hammy @kiwidoves @aeongiies @heartswonder @lilactaro @lunnaeclipse @m1lley0ns

#🍇 ━━ SOUR GRAPES !#honkai star rail x reader #hsr x reader #hsr dan heng #dan heng x reader #hsr blade #blade x reader #honkai star rail smau #hsr smau #honkai star rail fanfic #hsr fanfic #hsr x y/n #hsr x you #honkai star rail x you #honkai star rail x gender neutral reader

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astyrial · 2 months

Text

the stars shine brightest spencer reid x fem!reader (fluff) synopsis: spencer helps you after getting kidnapped word count: 770 warnings: cuts/blood masterlist | requests are open

a solar blanket lays atop your shoulders, stars illuminating the sky. a pair of slippers are the only thing between your feet and the wet concrete street. you sit in the back of an ambulance, staring out at the sky above, one you questioned if you'd ever see it again. the ambulance's lights blare wildly; red and blue colors dancing around the street. your elbows rest against your knees, lungs taking in deep breaths.

every breath sends a rush of pain through your torso, a shallow cut just above the rib cage. another cut above your eyebrow leaves encrusted blood running down your face. the situation doesn't stop you from admiring the stars, though. from the trees slowly swaying to the clouds parting just enough so you can see the beautiful full moon. the only other lights in the secluded forest can't even begin to compare to the natural lighting above.

you close your eyes for a second, a dull headache encapsulating your forehead. as you sit there, you come to a sense of peace, despite knowing that today could've been your last. the lights in the mineshaft below the road still remaining in the forefront of your memory. the way a couple hanging glow sticks swung with the draft, barely giving you enough light to see your-

"y/n? i just got a chance to step away, are you okay?"

eyes slightly dull, you look up the familiar voice. spencer has a frown on his face, eyebrows furrowed as he finally meets your eyes. his gaze instantly softening when you notice the sour look crossing your face. "do you want me to sit with you?"

"yeah, that'd be great," the coarseness of your voice only letting you speak those words.

spencer sits down next to you, hands resting on his knees. you can tell a part of him wants to reach out to you, wrap his arm around you. however, he can tell by the way your body stays huddled together that maybe that isn't what you need right now. maybe you just need him by you, to just listen to someone talk.

he sits for a second, unsure of what to say. sure he's talked to unsub victims before, hell he's been an unsub victim multiple times. watching you, though, makes him unsure of how he ever consoled someone. especially because he imagines himself knowing you so well. to know the way you laugh, how you cry, how you treat others. he knows the smile on your face like it's the back of his hand.

but in a situation like this? he's vulnerable to hurting you in ways he could never consider. with a simple word he could send you crying, because of him. "we were all worried about you, i- well, i was worried about you mostly," spencer looks over at you, watching as you continue to stare up at the stars.

you watch as the stars glisten, only turning your head to look at him when you hear how he felt. despite none of it being your fault, a twinge of guilt stings your wounds. to hear the worry in his voice as if he's experiencing it all over again sends a twitching frown to your lips, "i'm.. sorry."

"you shouldn't be apologizing, y/n, it was never your fault," spencer's hand raises a little, moving towards you like he wants to cup your face between his hands, stare deeply into your eyes and tell you everything will alright.

"y/n, none of this could ever be your fault," he brings his hands back down to his lap, playing with his thumbs.

you bite your lip, turning to look back at the illuminating night sky. "can we... just sit here?" you question, your breathing just barely sending a pain through your right side.

spencer nods, joining you in gazing up at the sky, the tenseness in his forehead slowly soothing itself out. it's beautiful, he knows, but there's a way your eyes shine like they never have as you stare out at the stars. like they're the most precious thing you've ever seen. if he could feel the pain you felt in only seeing those luminescent lights and wondering if they would be the last lights you would ever see, maybe he'd understand.

but for now, he lets you lean on him, letting your head rest on his shoulder. truthfully, it's all he knows what to do in this situation. maybe that's just enough for one evening, just to have someone who you could lean on.

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fanfiction #dr spencer reid #spencer reid #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid hurt/comfort #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds fic #criminal minds fanfic #criminal minds

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mmoonpies · 1 year

Text

desire | rowan laslow.

part two to unkempt! | part one is here. | visual porn link for this fic here!

a/n: (unfortunately) the reader in this specific fic will have female anatomy, however, if any of you'd like, I will be able to re-write this fic with a male anatomy version! don't want anyone to be excluded <3

warnings: sub rowan, dom reader, slightly aggressive rowan, slight mummy kink (said once), praise kink, basically just rowan being needy, fingering, cunnilinigus, smut, 18+.

“looks like i made a mess out of you, rowan…”

the shade of blush on rowan’s cheeks closely resembles the shade of burgundy as his head lolls back against the sheets, arm reaching over to cover his eyes. his breathing is laboured as the aftershocks take their course through his body, his body twitching slightly as he tries to recover. another small groan falls from his lips at the sensations of heat rolling through his body.

and it’s all because of you.

you push yourself back up from your spot between his thighs, wiping your face with the back of your palm to clear whatever residue was left. you can feel the pulsating throb between your thighs grow more noticeable, your thighs clenching together to offer some relief to your arousal; seeing rowan give in to your command so easily makes your head spin with power, the heat settled deep in your stomach flaring up at the bare thought.

yet, the sight below you is enough to make your cunt grow wet; rowan’s bare hips are still twitching underneath you, his chest still visibly flushed as beads of sweat slowly slide down his navel.

you push down your desire, placing your hand on his toned thigh before sliding your fingers up to his hip. you lean your head down to press a soft peck against his happy trail, feeling his stomach tighten and tense from the movement. his hands cover his face as a shy whimper leaves his throat, hips shifting from side to side.

“you’re so pretty,” you murmur, a soft smile spreading across your face as his index fingers separate from the rest of his fingers, shyly peering down at you. you let out a little giggle before moving up to grab his wrists, sliding his hands away from his face. “you okay, rowan?”

he nods breathless, waiting for you to remove your hands before planting them behind him and pushing himself up onto his forearms to look at you.

“actually…could you uh, pass me my inhaler please?” you could see the hesitance behind his movements as he awkwardly points his fingers towards his inhaler behind you before scratching the back of his neck. he quietly thanked you as you hand it to him, seemingly lost in thought as he took a quick puff, discarding it on the sheets next to him.

your eyebrows furrow as you watch him, practically able to see the calculated thoughts forming behind his eyes as he looks back at you, planning his next move. you silently watch as he sits up, your eyes inquisitively studying his movements as she shuffles forward, almost uncomfortable, and hesitant.

he looks so vulnerable in front of you; kneeling in front of you with his hands shyly placed on his lap. unsure of what he’s thinking, you reach out to place your hand on his thigh once more, trying to coax him into saying what he’s thinking about.

“you can say what you’re thinking, rowan…”

his eyes glance around the room, mouth opening to say something before shutting it. his heart feels as if its racing as he struggles to think of how to approach the current situation. he takes a small breath, eyes flickering up to meet yours before dropping back down to his lap.

“don’t…. don’t you want something in return?” he mumbles, shyly keeping his eyes focused on the sheets below him, hands rubbing against each other as he begins to fidget.

a bashful giggle leaves your mouth before the previous flare in your body heats up again. rowan stares at you with a pink flush highlighting his cheeks, his short hair falling down over his eyes, begging for you to take control once more.

your hand cups his cheek, thumb smoothing over his cheekbone before pressing a kiss to the opposite cheek. his eyes flutter shut almost immediately, his cheek pressing into your hand, trying to be as physically close to you as possible.

rowan’s head feels light, blood still rushing towards his cheeks as he drunkenly submits to your touch, melting into you. he knows he’s on a high, but he doesn’t wanna come down. his hands are suddenly all over you, smoothing up your torso as he nuzzles into the crook of your neck, lips pressing against your skin.

you giggle at the sudden change of heart, letting yourself be pushed down by him, body splayed across the sheets as he hovers over your body. his hands smooth back down to hold your hips, pressing soft kisses down your neck, desperate for your approval.

your hands thread through his hair, making his heart skip a bit as he sucks in a harsh breath. you slightly pull at his hair, guiding him to where you want him, making him whimper underneath your touch.

“such a good boy for me, aren’t you?” you coo, a sick and twisted delightful heat spreading out across your chest. he lets out a quiet moan in response, nodding his head as he lets himself getting pulled down in between your legs.

his eyes slowly slide up to look at you, his eyelashes fluttering as his fingers hook around the waistband of your pants. he slowly slides them down, a small smirk playing on his lips.

“get on your knees,” you demand, tongue laced with authority which causes rowan to bit his lip, his cheeks flaring red again. you suck in a breath, holding it in your mouth as rowan obeys you, getting off the bed before lowering down onto the floor, sitting on his knees. “good boy.”

his eyes are wide, so open and trusting, as you shuffle towards the edge of the bed, leaning over to cup rowan’s cheeks, thumbs placed under his jaw, forcing him to look up at you. he’s breathless – lips parted, and eyebrows tensed upwards as a small whimper bubbles up in his throat.

you lay back on your forearms, staring down at him between your legs with a raised eyebrow.

“go on then.”

that’s all the permission he needs to grip your ankles, pushing them up to make sure your legs are bent at the knee. his heart is thumping, butterflies swarming in his stomach as his eyes constantly search for your eyes, seeking approval and reassurance.

he lets go of your ankles to move his hands to your inner thighs, his firm hands push your thighs apart, forcing them to stay open. his breath his heavy as he looks up at you for permission.

you can tell he’s nervous, his moves lacking confidence and authority despite the rough nature of his movements. rowan can already see the sheen of your wetness against your core, a shiver climbing up his spine as he takes in the sight before him. his movements become slow and gentle as he leans in, hands smoothing over your inner thighs before cupping the edge of your lips, thumbs gently spreading your cunt apart before nervously leaning in, pressing a shy kiss on your cunt before immediately pulling back.

you sigh at the feeling, hands reaching for his hair once more. your fingers slide against his scalp before gripping his hair, pulling him back in. his eyes are wide as he looks up at you, eyebrows furrowed upwards again.

“you gonna be a good boy for me?” you hum, satisfied as he furiously nods before turning his attention back to your leaking cunt, leaning in to flatten his tongue against your cunt.

his tongue licks a clean stripe up your cunt before flicking against your clit, one, two, three times. your body jolts at the sensation, your own cheeks growing warm. desperate for more, his mouth latches onto your soaked cunt delicately, the warmth of his mouth earning a breathless call of his name. his heart jumps at the sound, trying to force his head further in between your legs as his tongue slithers over your slit.

his tongue briefly prods at your clenching hole, collecting the pooling wetness before tracing your slit back up to your clit, his lips wrapping around it. you let out a sharp gasp as he hungrily sucks your clit, his tongue swirling over the pulsating bud. the sensations are already beginning to overwhelm your body, your thighs tensing and twitching as they try and shut in on themselves.

rowan’s hands immediately slide up against your skin, his palms splaying against your hipbones before gently pushing you down to keep you in place. you lean your head back as he sucks harder, hands pulling him closer into your sopping wet cunt.

he moans against your cunt, causing your hips to jerk upwards, only to be forced downwards by rowan’s rough hold, causing a small moan of his name to fall from his lips. his reaction makes you lightheaded as he practically perks up at the sound, his grip growing stronger as he forces your hips back down into your bed, his teeth gently scraping against your clit before sucking it back into his mouth.

“fuck, rowan!” you can only cry out, your back arching as his tongue continues to lash against your clit in the most delightful way possible. he can feel your clit pulsating against his tongue, his quiet moans vibrating against your cunt. “doing good so for me.”

his whine is louder this time, vibrating against your throbbing clit before his tongue slides down to your clenching hole. you’re panting, trying to keep up with rowan as you try and control the moans slipping from your lips. his tongue prods against your entrance before sliding in, slowly thrusting his tongue in and out of you, drinking up your slick.

rowan’s eyes almost roll into the back of his head at the taste of you, his eyes clenched shut as he can feel his blood rushing back down towards his cock. he grips your thighs even tighter to distract himself from bucking his hips against the bed, your cunt clenching around his tongue with each thrust.

“oh god,” you breathe out, face flushed as your hands tug at his hair, causing him to let out several whines and moans against your cunt. “fucking hell, rowan.”

the praise leaking from your tongue only makes him grow harder, his moans turning guttural as he buries his tongue deeper into your cunt. one of his hands moves to roughly grip your ankle, lifting your leg up before holding onto your heel, lifting your leg up slightly higher and pushing it to the side to allow him more space.

his tongue slides out before attacking your clit once more, licking at it vigorously as while he guides your leg to rest over his shoulder. you do the same with your other leg, letting rowan’s hands slither over your legs before dropping back in between your thighs.

you can feel your stomach tighten as your moans become more consistent, the heat in your stomach beginning to feel like liquid gold, growing hotter and hotter as rowan continue to suckle on your pulsating clit. your thighs tighten around his head as your hands pull him closer – if physically possible – head lolling back as you moan his name.

he pulls away momentarily, chest heaving as he looks up at you with desperation pooling in his eyes. you let out a little moan at the sight, your slick glimmering against his chin and mouth. it’s almost as if he has tunnel-vision; his eyes focused on your throbbing cunt as his fingers run over your slit slowly, two of his fingers crooking against your entrance. your cunt clenches around nothing as he teases, the pads of his fingers circling around your aching hole.

his free hand reaches for his asthma puffer as he simultaneously sinks his fingers into your cunt, his chest swelling at the sound of your whining moan. his jaw clenches as he feels your cunt tighten and pulse around his fingers, trying to suck him in further. your hands pull at the strands of is hair as his fingers curl inside of you, prodding at your walls as he searches for that one spot which will have you crying out his name.

“fuck rowan, wait-“you breathlessly moan out, moving your hair out of your face as his fingers continue to pump inside of you. you lean over yourself, stomach and thighs tensing at the feeling of him inside of you. “I can’t-“

his eyes finally move away from your dripping cunt to look up at your flushed face, savouring the sight of you panting and trying to hold back your moans.

“just wanna make you feel good, mummy.” he whines, breathless and desperate. his eyes are blown-out as if he’s pussy-drunk, tongue swiping over his lips to collect the taste of your slick. you can hardly control your body anymore, a guttural moan slipping from your throat at the name, your back arching dramatically.

he takes a puff of his asthma puffer before carelessly dropping it onto the floor, diving back in between your legs as his tongue flicks under the hood of your clit, a small moan falling from his lips at the taste of your slick. he gathers your slick on his tongue before wrapping his lips around your clit, his fingers pressing deeper inside of you.

you cry out his name, thighs uncontrollably tightening around his head as you crawl closer towards your orgasm. his hands grip your legs once more, letting your heels dig into his back as your hands grip his shoulders, pushing down on him as you try and escape from the overwhelming sensation.

rowan feels as if he’s in heaven – the pleasure he’s delivering you make his cock throb as he ignores the growing ache in his jaw, tongue flicking against your abused clit, desperate for the cries of his name. he doesn’t care about the messy sounds echoing in the room as he brutally eats you out, only, they fuel him as his hands move to the underside of your thighs, pushing them up as he pushes another finger into your soaking cunt.

“fuck!” you let out a desperate cry, curling in on yourself as your hands grip the back of his neck, tugging at the strands of hair on the nape of his neck. “oh my fuck, I’m gonna cum, rowan, please!”

the sound of you almost begging for him to let you cum makes him moan into your cunt, the squelches of your cunt making his hips buck into thin air, his cock begging for attention.

he slight shakes his head side from side, your moans growing higher in pitch as his fingers constantly curl and prod against that one spot inside you. the heat in your stomach flares hotter and hotter, feeling like a thread about to snap as your back lifts off the bed.

a searing hot white blinds your vision as a loud cry is ripped from your body, his name falling from your lips as if it were a mantra, repeating it over and over as his tongue continues to lick at your abused clit. he lets out his own moan as his fingers stutter inside of you before immediately pressing back into you.

“please, rowan, please,” you cry out, hands pulling at his hair before trying to push him away, hips bucking into his mouth. “oh fuck…fuck, rowan!”

your body shudders as his lips continue to attack your cunt, letting you ride out your orgasm. you moan as the overstimulation makes your thighs clench tighter around his head, trying to shield yourself. he finally pulls back, your hands letting go of his head and landing on the bed next to you, panting as your body twitches.

rowan’s mouth is messy – covered with your slick dripping down his chin, his lips slightly red and swollen. his face is flushed with a shade of dark red, his hands still holding onto your thighs as he hides his face from yours, head slightly bowed.

you immediately take notice, raking your hands through his hair once more before lifting his head up. his cheeks are darker then before, his gaze averted to the ground, refusing to look you in the eye. your hands slide down the side of his face to cup his cheeks.

“what’s wrong baby?” you ask quietly, trying to catch his gaze as he swallows harshly, eyes flickering down to his lap before looking away shamefully. your eyes follow his to see cum splattered over his stomach, some dripping onto the ground as his chest heaves, recovering from his orgasm.

“you came untouched?” you smiled down at him, not expecting an answer as his hands covered his burning face. “that’s okay, you were really good for me today, okay rowan?”

he shyly peeks out from his hands, looking up at you bashfully.

“r-really?”

“yes baby, you were such a good boy,” you cooed at him, one of your fingers tucking a stray strand of hair behind his ear. “I might have to have you eat me out more often, it was really fucking good.”

he blushes harder at your statement, ducking his head before uncovering his face and turning his head to kiss your palm.

“I love you y/n,” he mumbles, nuzzling into your hand with a shy smile. “wanna make you feel good.”

"you did baby, now let's get you cleaned up, yeah?"

#rowan laslow #rowan laslow x reader #rowan laslow smut #rowan laslow x reader smut

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holygrailimagines · 1 year

Text

After Fight

Summary: Erling and Reader get into a small fight which then turns into some filthy smut. Slight angst in the beginning, SMUT!

☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆

“What the hell is this?” Erling asks, walking into your bedroom with disbelief and shock written all over his face. You looked up from your phone and were greeted with a shirtless Erling holding up his Manchester City jersey, only it was about three times smaller than usual. Your eyes widened as you placed a hand over your mouth.

“Oh, my goodness!” You let out, standing up to inspect the jersey. Erling lets go of the jersey, letting it puddle to the floor as his large hand runs down his face in frustration. You couldn’t help but let out a laugh, finding humor in the thought of Erling sporting a cropped version of Man City’s uniform.

“You think this is funny?” Erling snaps at you, taking you by surprise. You thought Erling would have been laughing with you. You shrug in response, “a little,” you admit, a small smile forming on your lips. He scoffs at you, bending down and snatching the jersey off the floor. He looks at you with stern eyes, anger visible in his blue orbs.

“I'm gonna be late for practice and it’s all your fault.” He states accusingly, your smile falters as your eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

“What are you- my fault?” You couldn’t even choose what sentence to respond with, anger bubbling in your blood.

“Yes, you're a grown woman. You should know how to do laundry by now.” He shakes his head in disapproval, walking right past you and into your shared closet. You stood there, dumbfounded by his words. You feel yourself go red, chest heaving rapidly, eyes scanning the now empty space in front of you. You follow him angrily into the closet, your arms folded over your chest. Erling doesn’t even acknowledge you as he searches the racks of clothing for a spare jersey.

“If that’s how you feel, then maybe you should do your own laundry.” You respond fiercely. You glared up at his side profile, waiting for his response or a change of heart.

“You know what?” He turns to you, and suddenly you remember how tall he was compared to you. You take a small step back, your confidence fading and the anger in your eyes momentarily flickered with fear. “I will.” He states, turning his attention back to the racks. You open your mouth to respond but before you can, you hear him mutter something under his breath.

“You never know how to do anything right anyway.”

You clenched your jaw, your eyes stinging with tears. Erling, noticing your lack of response, turns to you. If it weren’t for your blurred version, you would have seen his hardened expression soften, guilt and regret replacing every trace of anger. You try blinking away your tears, only for a few to squeeze out. Erling reaches for your face, wanting to stroke them off your soft cheeks. You quickly back away, wiping your own tears before turning and leaving him in the closet. He’s quick to follow you, turning you by your shoulder and engulfing you in a tight hug. Your cheek and arms are pressed tightly against his bare chest, tears flowing freely from your eyes.

“I’m so sorry my love,” he whispers, his Norwegian accent thicker than usual, “I should have never said that.” You let him hold you like this for some time, relaxing into his warm embrace. His large hand gently holds your chin, turning your head so he could see your face. You look up at him through tear-soaked lashes, eyes full of sadness. Erling literally felt his heart shatter, angry with himself for making you feel like this.

“Please, what can I do for you to forgive me?” He asks, his soft gaze searching your eyes for some sign of forgiveness. You bite your lip, the question making you feel things you shouldn’t. You snake your arms around his neck, bringing the side of his head to your level while getting on your tippy toes.

“Fuck me.” You whisper in his ear. With only two words, Erling could already feel his cock twitching with excitement. He quickly turns to meet your gaze, wondering whether you were serious or not. He knew you weren’t joking when your eyes, once full of sorrow, were now clouded with lust. Just like that, he forgets all about practice. He places a large hand on your throat, gently pushing you backwards and onto the bed. You sit down on the edge, still looking up at him teasingly and pretending you didn’t notice his raging bulge. He looks down at you with hungry eyes, already feeling the pleasure of your lips wrapped around his dick. He quickly slides down his white shorts and boxers, his monster cock springing free. He hisses as the cold air embraces his throbbing shaft. He grips it firmly, his tip already leaking. Before he can tap his tip against your lips, you put a finger up.

“No,” you say sternly, catching Erling by surprise, “I said. Fuck. Me.” You remind him. He smirks, slowly undressing you himself. Now completely nude, you lean back on your elbows and bring your knees up before spreading them wide. Erling swallows hard at the sight, your pussy glistening and begging to be fucked by his cock. He crawls on top of you, his lips smashing into yours. It’s sloppy but passionate, your core heating up at the smacking noises. He trails his kisses from your lips to your jaw, then your neck, down the valley of your breast and finally dangerously close to your aching cunt. You watch as he dived down, his tongue plunging into you. You let out a loud moan, your hands gripping his hair tightly. You were so glad he didn’t have it up. He grunts against your pussy with each tug, the sensation sending you further into pleasure.

“Oh, Erling. Just like that.” You praise him. Your hips jolting with each swirl of his tongue. He reaches a hand up, gripping your breast tightly. His thumb caresses your sensitive nipple. You gasp, overwhelmed by all this gratification.

“I’m gonna come.” You let out through high pitched moans. He doesn’t even flinch, adding two thick fingers inside you and pumping them rapidly. That’s all you need as the knot in your stomach comes undone. Moans and whines escape your lips as you lose complete control of your body, shivers running up and down your spine. Erling roughly pumped himself at the sight of your orgasm, proud of what he’d done to you.

Before you could properly recover, Erling stands at the edge of the bed and pulls you toward him, stuffing every inch of his manhood into your raw cunt. It hurt so good. You moan loudly, your tight pussy violently clenching around his girth. He lets out a grunt, your walls feeling slicker and warmer than ever before. He grips your thighs as your legs are up against his chest. With more access to your core, his thrusts became rougher and animalistic. He looks down, watching as he pulls all the way out before slamming back in. All you can do is moan, looking up at him with droopy eyes. His eyes focus on your tits, watching as they jolt with every thrust. He reaches down and slaps one of them, leaving an instant red handprint. You gasp in response, head thrown back against the bed as you grip the sheets beneath you. Sweat begins to build up on Erling’s forehead, soaking the roots of his blonde hair. He reaches down again, only this time placing his large hand around your neck. He applies a tiny amount of pressure which is enough to send you into overdrive. Your walls clench around him even tighter, earning a groan from the giant man above you. You could feel your second orgasm creeping up inside you.

“Erling,” you struggled to let out.

“I know baby, I know.” He says, his hands tightly grip your waist as he jackhammers into you. He grunts and groans, his cock twitching and pulsating against your walls. He’s balls deep now, struggling to keep up with his previous brutal pace.

“Let go, my love.” He whispers in Norwegian and that’s all you need. Your eyes roll to the back of your head as your second orgasm rocks your entire body. Erling thrusts a few more times before you hear him moan your name, his load warming your insides. His limp cock slips out and you whimper at the feeling. Erling collapses beside you, trying to catch his breath. He places his calloused hand on top of yours, his fingers interlacing with yours.

“Do you forgive me?” Erling asks sincerely. You smile, nodding in response.

“Well, I guess it is my fault you're late to practice now.” You joke, glancing at the clock on the wall. Erling smiles, placing a gentle kiss on your cheek. You're too spent to even move, opting to stay in bed naked for a bit longer. After some time, he gets up and slides his boxers on before heading back into the closet.

“I think this would look so hot on you.” You look up to see Erling holding up the shrunken jersey.

☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆

#erling x reader #Erling Haaland #erling håland #erling haaland imagine #erling haaland smut #erling haaland x reader #erling #haaland #Smut #football fic #football smut #erling haaland angst #erling haland #Man City

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zoeykallus · 1 year

Text

Mayday

Mayday x Reader Oneshot

Angst/Fluff/Comfort

I already put it in the tags, but just in case: SPOILER ALERT FOR TBB SEASON2!!!!

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AC: After a misunderstanding with someone requesting this on anon. I decided to write this one now and don't put it in my to-do list first. As a little "apology" because I was pretty rude. Wish I could tag you, but unfortunately you contacted me on anon. Hope you still get to read this 😊

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Actually, you don't work for the Empire. You are an independent contractor, a small business mainly for cargo and logistics. When an Imperial officer contacts you, you are reluctant to take on the job. However, you don't want to upset the Empire either. None of your handful of workers is eager to deliver the cargo for the Empire, especially not to Barton-4, the ice-cold lump of a planet. So you take over the delivery yourself. Food, gasoline, energy packs for flashlights and a new generator for environmental sensors are to be delivered. Even the approach to the imperial station is complicated and dangerous. Fierce crosswinds push your cargo shuttle from all sides and make it difficult to land the ship safely. But you make it anyway. With a sigh, you see the clone troopers coming across the landing platform, who should be unloading the goods. You put on your thermal jacket, zip it up to the top and pull the hood of the jacket over your head, then you open the ramp and see the soldiers already coming towards you. Their equipment doesn't look exactly winterized, some of the men are provisionally wrapped in cloth and skins in addition to their armor. The sight makes you frown. One of them addresses you. "Of course, the Empire is sending civilian transport out here". You blink, then say dryly, "I guess the Empire knows they don't have pilots good enough to land in these weather conditions." You hear a rough laugh from under the clone's helmet, shortly after the soldier removes his helmet and you see an unfamiliar image. You clearly have a clone soldier in front of you, but one with long hair and a full beard, something you haven't seen before. He holds out his hand to you. "I'm Commander Mayday, this is Hexx and Veetch." You shake his hand, the others too, and introduce yourself. "Hi, nice to meet you guys" Maydays laughs again, and you can see a cheeky glint in his eyes. "We'll probably get to know each other a little better, whether you like it or not, the weather has been closing in, changes like this happen practically every minute around here. You're not going to get the shuttle out of here anytime soon." You look down the ramp, over which an icy wind blows into the interior of the shuttle. Outside everything is white, it is snowing, a blizzard, you can barely see two meters. "Fantastic," you say with a dry smile, and begin to help the men unload.

You have your own little area. But at night, the weather still hasn't cleared, and the cold is even more relentless than during the day. A bit unsure, you make your way out of your little cabin and into the main area, where you find the commander. He is sitting at a heat battery, his helmet lying next to him on a dura steel table. When he hears your footsteps, he looks up. You are still wrapped in your thermal jacket, in this outpost nothing works at all, not even the heating system, which is actually essential for survival. A barely noticeable, gentle smile twitches at the corners of his mouth as your eyes meet. "It's not so easy to fall asleep in this cold, especially when you're not used to it. In fact, it's probably better that way, here in this cold they tend to mistake fatigue for hypothermia. Lost some good men that way". You raise your eyebrows in surprise as well as shock and sit with him, close to the heat battery, across from Mayday. "Wait, that's that serious medical condition in which a person's body temperature falls below the usual level as a result of being in severe cold for a long time? Right?" you ask, frowning. Mayday nods. "Mmm, that's right. The body shuts down, you get very tired, but in reality you die instead of falling asleep." "That's terrible! Why don't you get proper care here? They should have given me more heat batteries and a technician to get your heating system back up to speed. Not even your equipment is intact." Mayday sighs softly and shrugs his broad shoulders, his arms folded in front of his chest, a thick wool blanket draped around his shoulder. "Clone soldiers are expendable, we always have been, but since the Republic was replaced by the Empire, it's worse than ever" Your teeth start to chatter even as you try to suppress it, your whole body keeps shivering as it tries to fight the cold that creeps under your skin despite the thermal jacket. Mayday raises his brows and looks at you. "You're not used to the cold, hmm?" "Not even close," you admit, "I've spent most of my life on Tatooine." Mayday laughed softly, "It's an extreme contrast to Barton-4."

He taps the bench he's sitting on next to him and holds out his blanket invitingly. "If we huddle together, we can keep each other warm. I'm happy to share my blanket with you" For a second you consider if the clone has any ulterior motives, but even if he does, it is so cold you don't care, and he is probably just as cold, probably even too cold for ulterior motives. You walk around the table and sit right next to him, close to the heat battery, and let him put the blanket around your shoulders so that the two of you are finally underneath it. You sit so close to each other that no hand's width fits between you. Your pulse is a little faster and you really feel warmer. However, you are not sure if it is the blanket, the heat battery, or the situation. Slowly, you turn your head to look at him. "Are you okay?" he asks quietly, and you can feel the bass in his voice as you sit so close to each other. "Yeah, it's getting better" He smirks. "Told you so"

You talk for a while. Mayday tells you about his experiences in the war and how he and his men have fared since he was stationed on Barton-4. You sympathize and feel your anger at the Empire flare anew. At a certain point, you are leaning against him, and he has an arm around you. It happened automatically and yet your heart is beating fast. You talk until the sun comes up. As you both look out the window and see that the weather has cleared up considerably, you feel no real relief. You have enjoyed Mayday's company very much, and the fact that this togetherness must inevitably end pleases neither of you. Mayday takes you out to your shuttle on the landing platform. As you say goodbye, you begin to feel a certain longing, which is reflecting in his eyes. On impulse, you kiss his wind-chilled cheek. He blinks in surprise, but he finally smiles at you. "We probably won't see each other again too soon," he says a bit wistfully, with a sad smile. You smile and say, "Maybe we will." As you take off in your shuttle, he watches you for a long time until the shuttle is completely out of his sight, and finally turns back to the outpost with a sigh.

One week later "Commander! An unannounced shuttle is on approach!" Mayday jumps up, puts on his helmet and asks, "Identification?" "It's the cargo shuttle that was here a few days ago, the civilian freighter". Mayday feels his pulse quicken. "Really?" "Yes, sir." Mayday makes his way out onto the landing platform, alone this time. He doesn't want to greet you in the presence of the others, wants a moment to himself. He's as excited as a young Cadet and doesn't really know how to categorize that feeling. All he knows is that he is looking forward to seeing you again. As the ramp to your shuttle opens, he pulls off his helmet and tucks it under his arm. You smile back at him as you walk down the ramp. "Actually, I can't allow you to land here, not without explicit Imperial permission," he says with a wry smile. "And yet you don't seem to want to chase me away," you return, amused. Mayday admits, "I was looking forward to seeing you again." You smile, feeling your face grow warm despite the cold wind. "I take it the Empire still hasn't provided for you properly?" He shakes his head. "We are expendable, still". You cross your arms in front of your chest and say, "Not for me". Behind you comes an astromech and a cargo droid. "I brought you something" Mayday frowns. "This is not an official delivery by the Empire". You shake your head, confirming his statement. "No, a little something from me and my workers. We chipped in and got you a few things. The cargo droid is to help you with transportation and the astromech is an all-rounder, he can fix your heating system. I also brought half a dozen heat batteries, a few more rations, including caf and tea." Mayday strides up the ramp so that you are finally facing each other halfway up. "Thank you." A simple word, but coupled with the soft expression on his face and the warmth in his voice, this word speaks more than a thousand words. You kiss his cheek again, like last time when you parted. "You deserve it, more than that, actually. But I hope this helps you for a while" Suddenly his hands are on your cheeks and his face comes closer. His lips touch yours. It's not urgent, not challenging, it's tender, slow, and intimate as he kisses you. Your heart almost flips over in your chest. As his lips very slowly, languidly break away from yours, you ask softly, "Would you like me to stay maybe a night or two?" Mayday smiles and replies," Please do."

Ko-Fi (If you feel like giving me some coffee)

#spoiler #tbb spoiler #tbb s2 spoiler #bad batch spoiler #clone #clones #clone x reader #mayday x reader #clone fluff #clone comfort #star wars #bad batch season 2 #clonelove #tbb #imperial clones #mayday #clone commander mayday #fluff #cc mayday

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