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sugarcoatedstarkey · 1 year

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No Touching

Pairing - possessive!Rafe Cameron x stripper!poguereader

Summary- you’ve been fooling around with Rafe but never made it official, he becomes possessive.

Warnings- stripping, lap dance, mention of sexual services, mention of cocaine, language, mention of a gun, unprotected sexual intercourse, fingering, choking, slapping, hair pulling. (18+)

Request from anon

You had been working at the strip club for the past two years, on your first night you noticed Rafe and his friends. They slipped a few bills in your thong and let you move onto the next group.

You had expected them to say a few harsh words about being a pogue but apparently it was different when they were behind the doors of a strip club.

You saw Rafe every fortnight, dressed in his black suit and hair disheveled. He always tipped you nicely, his eyes on you wherever you went.

Finally after a few months he put cash down and ordered a private dance, you hadn’t expected him not to touch you. Instead he lets you dance, enticing him into putting his hands on you.

“I’m not going to pay to touch you princess”

You halted your movements, looking down at him from your straddle position. “So… why pay $300?”

“Because I wanted to be alone with you”

“Okay?”

“Going to have you begging me to touch you by the time the hour is up”.

You in fact did beg him, practically forced his hands on you by the end of it. Your tiny little panties were drenched. Your thighs slick with arousal, he still didn’t touch you that night.

It went on like that for a few more months until he finally laid his hands upon your skin, it was a soft brush of the fingertips to your bare thigh, his fingers trailed up the length of your stomach until they grasped your naked breast.

From that moment on you couldn’t get enough of him, and he couldn’t get enough of you.

Your ‘relationship’ was strictly physical, no one could know about the two of you. His father would throw a fit knowing his son, the man who is meant to take over the company, was sleeping with not only a stripper but a pogue. You also didn’t like the fact that he was snorting cocaine nearly every night, something you didn’t want to get mixed up with.

You were at work like any other night, your legs began to ache, body twirling around the silver pole. The only piece of clothing on your body was a teeny tiny black thong. Your feet dressed in sky high heels, cash spread all over the stage floor.

You brought yourself down from the pole, swaying your hips to the beat of the music. Chewing softly on a piece of mint gum, your eyes skimmed the sea of men and women.

You brought yourself down to your knees, crawling the space of the stage until you were in front of a gentleman who looked to be dressed in Armani. His cologne invading your nostrils, you moved yourself to a seating position.

Spreading your legs for him, instinctively he reaches out to touch you. “Uh uh… no touching” you stated, grabbing his hand. Your fingers walk up the length of his arm until they tickle his lips.

“You want to touch?” You question, his Adam's Apple bobs along with his head. “Yeah”.

“Private dances cost $300” “shit”

He turned away from you and stalked back to his friends, his shoulders slumped in defeat. You picked yourself back up and began dancing to the music again.

Running your fingers through your long locks, massaging your tits. Your eyes fall back on the gentleman from before, $300 in his hands this time.

You give him a smile and click your fingers behind you, a body guard steps out from behind the dark red curtain and helps you down from the stage.

“This way”

Jeff, your bodyguard of the night grabbed the man by his shoulders and pushed him along to the lotus room, this is where you do private dances. The place where they can touch and you can charge extra for certain services.

Just as you step over the threshold a hand grabs your shoulder, pulling you backwards.

“What are you doing?”

“Rafe!”

His eyes are dark, blown out, brows furrowed in anger. You can see the slight shake to his body, gun in his hand. There is a white speck of dust just under his nose, you want to kick him. Tell him to get the fuck out of the club, he shouldn’t be here while he was high.

“I’m working Rafe”

“Uh-uh… no way.” He starts waving the gun in the air, pointing in the direction of the lotus room. Your heart is racing, he wouldn’t kill someone. Not because you were doing your job. Right?

“You need to leave… come back another night” you hushed, reaching for his wrist that held the gun but he pulled it back.

His hand is on your shoulder again, this time he squeezes. You let out a cry and grab his wrist, he’s much stronger than you. “Rafe!”

“Sir.. you need to leave now”

A voice from behind him startles you, your boss stands tall surrounded by security.

Rafe turns to hold the gun out in front of him again, he looks manic. Manic enough to kill a club full of people just to get to you.

“He’s going to hurt you in there”

“No he isn’t”

“Trust me”

Your eyes meet him finally, his facial expressions have softened. You hated how he had control over you, even when he was 6 lines deep.

You hold your hand up to the men surrounding him and pull him closer to you. “Why do you think he’s going to hurt me?”

“I heard him and his friends talking in the bathroom… betting he could have you crying before the hour is up”

“Come in with me then… stand behind the curtain. I give you full permission to beat his ass if he does anything”

“Or… I’ll give you $300 a hour to come home with me”

“Rafe….”

“I’m serious.. come home with me. Fuck my dad… fuck anyone who wants to talk shit.. fuck them”

You find yourself nodding, turning to whisper into Jeff’s ear. You don’t miss Rafe placing the gun in the back of his pants and stepping into the lotus room though, his fist meets the man's face. Knocking him down onto the floor, he lands a few more punches before he’s pulled off.

“It’s okay! He’s coming with me” you yelled, grabbing a hold of Rafe. You pull him towards the back, racing around to pull clothes on and pack your bag.

“You didn’t have to punch him… I’m going to be in so much trouble tomorrow”

“No you won’t… I won’t let anyone hurt you… say anything bad about you”

“Ha okay Rafe… let’s go”

You follow him out, he opens his car door for you. Before you know it, you're parked outside of Tanny Hill. The lights are off and there are no cars in sight, you let him lead you into the house.

He takes you to his room, letting you take in the pictures that line the staircase. His eyes watch you as your fingers caress the photos of him.

“This is my room”

You nod, stepping into the room. You place your backpack down onto a chair and walk around the room, taking in everything that belonged to him.

You hadn’t expected the room to be so tidy, not a single school trophy out of place.

“It’s nice”

“It’s alright”

He steps towards you, his fingers hold your throat softly. Eyes staring down at you, if it was possible you would have been able to see all the words flying around in his brain. “What?” You question, his thumb traces small circles on your neck.

“Why do you do it?” He asks, you go to pull away from him but he holds you a little tighter. The apples of your cheeks redden with lack of air.

“Rafe” you choke, his fingers loosen again but you stay where you are. Not game enough to step away from him again, he was still in a mood.

“I need the money… you know why I do it” you roll your eyes, annoyed that he keeps bringing this topic up. How many times can one tell someone something until it finally wedges itself in their brain?

“I hate it… I hate that you have to sell yourself”

“Not all of us are rich” He shakes his head, pulling you closer to him this time. His lips are on yours for a brief moment.

“Stop Rafe… how many lines of coke have you done?” You question, his fingers fall from your throat. You take this opportunity to step away from him, B lining for your bag.

“Hey hey… don’t leave” he demands, grabbing your forearm and pulling you against him. Your back against his hard chest. His arm is wrapped around your waist and one in your throat. “Don’t leave”.

You can feel his breath on the back of your neck, before it’s replaced by his lips, his free hand travels up the length of your arm and brushes over your chest.

“Rafe” you stutter, your knees growing weak from the soft touches. He holds you tight against him, walking you towards his bed. “We shouldn’t”.

“We should” his lips suck on your throat, leaving behind a nice purple bruise. He still has one arm wrapped around your waist while the other starts to pull your dress up to your hips, your legs opening up for him.

“So wet already” he states, his fingers toy with your pussy. Soaking his fingers with your arousal before inserting them inside of you.

You grip his head whilst he kisses you, moaning deep into his mouth. You want to cry out from the feeling of his fingers, massaging your puffy clit. “Shit… we need to stop”.

“No we don’t… just stay quiet, such a good girl”.

His fingers are pulled out from within you, leaving a dull ache deep inside. His pants are pulled down enough for his cock to be free, holding it within his hand.

Your throat is dry as you watch him pump himself slowly, enticing you to touch. That’s exactly what you do, reaching down between the two of you, your hand grasps his cock.

Pre cum dribbles from the tip, you're about to drop to your knees but he catches you, spinning you back around and pushing your top half down against the bed.

Your ass is up high, plump and begging to be spanked. He does just that, leaving behind a deep red mark of his hand. “Ouch!” You cry, wriggling under him.

He reaches for your wrists and holds them behind your back, He presses the tip of his cock to your hole.

You had to admit, you had a secret love for when Rafe was high, his stamina was unbeatable, his cock could stay hard for hours. You could milk him dry and he’d still want to fuck you again and again.

He pushes himself deep inside of you, you press your mouth against the duvet. Crying out into the soft material, his hand meets your ass cheek again. Leaving behind a dull sting. “Don’t hide those pretty noises” he orders, gripping your long hair and pulling you away from the mattress.

“Let me hear you scream my name… I want to hear you cry for my cock”.

His hips meet your ass roughly, his balls slapping against your swollen bud. “Fuck! Rafe… yeah harder!”.

The grip around your hair becomes tighter and his hips faster, your walls sucking him deeper and deeper.

“No man will ever touch you again… ever!”

“Just you Rafe, only you!”

He pulls out of you and spins you around, he's on his back and you’re crawling up his body. Hovering over his hard cock, your arousal coats his skin.

“Ride me now!”

You're dropping down on him, letting out a moan in delight as he hits you deep. With each roll of your hips your swollen clit nudges his skin, causing extra pleasure you rush through you.

Your hands pressed firmly to his chest, head thrown back as you rode him for dear life. Chasing that familiar ecstasy, his eyes are on you. Drinking in the look of pleasure upon your face.

“Yes, just like that baby girl” he groans, his abs clenching as he holds onto his orgasm that is beginning to bubble. He wanted you to come first, he reaches his fingers down and begins to rub circles on your clit, emitting a loud moan of pleasure from within you.

“Oh god oh god” you cry, your heart is racing as you bounce on top of him. Toes curled, a light sweat begins to form on your skin. “Rafe!”.

Your fingers scratch against his chest, leaving behind deep red lines. Your warning goes unspoken as you come around his cock, arousal soaking him. Buzzing goes off in your ear drums as your orgasm hits you hard.

He takes the glazed look in your eyes and comes, Spurting his seed deep inside of you, moans and groans bounce off the four walls. His grips on your hips are harsh and will leave bruising but you didn’t care at this moment.

“You're all mine”.

You collapse on top of him, his arms wrap around your waist. Breathing in the scent of your hair, you lay like this for a few minutes.

Pulling yourself away from him finally you stand to get yourself dressed, you need to go home, you need to call your boss and straighten everything out.

“I’m serious y/n… your mine, your not going back to that place”

“Rafe-“

“No… your mine.”

🏷️ @vigilanteshitposting @outerbankspov @drewstarkeysleftfoot @cilliansangel @loverofdrewstarkey @teresalesbian @bbycowboi @hallecarey1 @tiacordelia02 @mountloverr @cameronmedia @pedrisgatorade @houseofperfecttaste @its-ria-07 @ijustwanttoreadlols @imnotapretzelsstuff @hannnaahh

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#outerbanks smut #drew starkey smut #rafe cameron smut #rafe cameron one shot #rafe cameron fic #rafe cameron #rafe cameron x you #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron imagine #rafe cameron angst #rafe cameron x y/n #rafe cameron x pogue!reader #rafe cameron fanfiction #drew starkey x you #drew starkey x reader #outerbanks fic #outerbanks rafe

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thelegend9798 · 2 years

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Spanish GP: Max Verstappen wins thrilling race after Charles Leclerc engine failure, Lewis Hamilton recovers after first-lap collision

Please use Chrome browser for a more accessible video player Charles Leclerc was forced to retire from the race lead in Spain after losing power in his Ferrari. Charles Leclerc was forced to retire from the race lead in Spain after losing power in his Ferrari. Max Verstappen capitalized on Charles Leclerc’s costly engine failure to win a dramatic Spanish Grand Prix and take the championship…

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#1 #Barcelona #Circuit #F1 #Ferrari #Formula #GP #Grand Prize #Lotus #McLaren #news #Pictures #Red Bull #Sky #Spain #sports #Video

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milksnake-tea · 5 months

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hello! congrats on your 1k followers, u deserve it! may i request for dan feng + fluff prompt 9 … maybe smt similar to ur dan feng fic? vidyadhara!reader?

this ask might be late and u don’t need to do the suggestions but i’d like to say that your writing always makes my day, keep it up! 💗 and again, congrats!

thank u!!

❀ ˎˊ- prompts: It's raining outside, and when you see them completely drenched, you immediately offer them shelter. ❀ ˎˊ- 1k followers event ❀ ˎˊ- character: dan feng ❀ ˎˊ- warnings: none !! ❀ ˎˊ- a/n: AIYEEE THIS WAS SO CUTE GOT ME KICKING MY FEET AND ALL <33 also thanks for the congrats !! sorry this was so late lol, i hope the fic makes up for it! also context, dan feng and reader are friends here, but reader is a different reader from under the lotus leaves <3

Rarely does the Luofu see rain.

As an artificial planet, a man-made home that basked in the light of an artificial sun, the weather was very closely monitored and controlled. For a sudden storm to arrive either meant that someone higher up was having an off day, or the A.I. had decided that perhaps the Luofu was a tad bit dehydrated.

Still, it doesn't make it any less irritating to you, a civilian who wasn't informed of this sudden decision.

You clicked your tongue in annoyance. Of course it had to rain on your day off. You'd planned to have a nice, easy day outside of just strolling through Aurum Alley, but that plan was now out the window.

Oh, well. Nothing you could about it now.

Gripping your grocery bag closer to you, you held your free hand towards the sky. Water swirled around you in a mystical dance, the rain droplets stilling as if frozen in time. Soon enough, an invisible umbrella formed above your head, your hand keeping there in place.

It was times like these that you were grateful for your cloudhymm abilities. You stepped out into the drizzle, perfectly dry amongst the crowd.

As you neared your home, you faltered when you saw an unexpected figure taking shelter under one of the many overhangs.

"Feng'er?"

The man in question flinched upon hearing your voice. Immediately, he turned away, embarrassed to be found in such a disheveled state.

"I... I'm fine," he stuttered. "Just... caught off guard."

You sighed, taking in the sight in front of you. Dan Feng's robes, so pristine and regal, were plastered against his body, soaked beyond what you'd thought was possible. His hair plastered against his skin as he wrung out what he could.

"Feng'er, with all due respect," you stepped closer, "you look anything but fine."

Dan Feng glared at you from the corner of his eye, but you weren't intimidated. You worked in customer service, after all.

You held out a hand. "Come here, my house is nearby. You'll get sick if you stay drenched like that."

Fire swirled in his eyes as he looked at you, wavering between pride and safety. Amongst the pouring rain, that turquoise hue glowed like flames, an ironic contrast to his abilities.

Eventually, his desire to get out of the rain triumphed over his pride. He reluctantly took your hand. You pulled him under your makeshift umbrella, your hand held high above the both of you as you led him to your home.

The walk there was quiet, save for the soft patter of rain and the curses of those caught within it. Left with nothing but your thoughts, your eyes began to wander. Soon, they landed on the hair of the High Elder, still wet and glossy despite Dan Feng's efforts to dry it.

"Hey, Feng'er," you spoke out into the silence, "can I ask something?"

Dan Feng contemplated it for a moment. "You may."

"You also wield cloudhymm. Why not use it to dry yourself off instead of, well..." You didn't need to go on.

The tips of Dan Feng's ears lit up in red. He quickly averted his gaze, but your eyes were quick enough to catch the pink dusting his cheeks.

"I..." He coughed into his fist. "Yingxing, he claimed that I couldn't go a day in my life without using magic."

"Ah." You couldn't help a snicker sneaking out, but you were quick to disguise it as a cough. "Is that right?"

"Yes," Dan Feng sighed in exasperation, crossing his arms. You smiled. His ears seemed to burn brighter now.

"To think you'd take the words of a short-lived so seriously," you mused. "Your stubbornness will be the death of you."

"Better to die than to let that arrogant mortal insult me so carelessly."

"Right, right, of course," you nodded. "We can't let the dignity of the High Elder be tarnished."

You felt a hard blow to your back, not hard enough to hurt you but certainly enough to make you stumble. Looking behind you, you saw Dan Feng's tail dart out of sight.

"Feng'er."

Dan Feng closed his eyes, evidently choosing to block you out. You rolled your eyes.

"Try that again and I'm leaving you next time."

Your friend chuckled.

"No, you love me too much to abandon me."

You kicked him into a puddle.

reblogs w comments are appreciated !!

#honkai star rail #honkai star rail x reader #hsr #hsr x reader #dan feng #dan feng x reader #dan heng #dan heng x reader #imbibitor lunae #imbibitor lunae x reader #x reader #reader insert #y/n #archives 🏵️#event 🏵️

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currentlyfckingurmom · 9 months

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Ecstasy

Summary: Percy Jackson’s lotus flowers meet sex pollen (Natasha Romanoff x female reader)

Warnings: shameless smut (18+)

Her eyes are a starry sky.

Her smile is the death of me.

Her laughter is a lullaby.

But her kiss is unmatched ecstasy.

It was supposed to be a simple mission. In and out. Home before bedtime.

But then the waiters passed out little flower shaped cookies, and you begged your best friend to try one with you. She finally caved, and they were so good that you just had to have another. And maybe a few more after that.

By the time you realized the cookies might have had something in them, your mind was too hazy to care. Because Natasha’s body was but a few inches from yours, swaying to the thundering music with a glint in her eyes that made your stomach tighten.

Since the first cookie, a simmering heat had been building in your abdomen, amplified tenfold by the woman in front of you. Judging by the pink of her cheeks and the tilt of her lips, you thought that just maybe she was feeling it too.

By the time she pulled you closer mid-song and you both moaned at the simple touch, you knew where the night was going. A fog clouded your mind, blocking out every inhibition and logical thought that told you to not sleep with the woman you had fallen for so long ago.

Natasha giggled like a schoolgirl as she ran her hands through your hair, and you soon followed suit, both of you laughing in the middle of the dance floor like nobody else was around.

You were both far too gone to care.

��You’re so beautiful, Natasha,” you whispered.

“Can I kiss you?” She asked.

You nodded and then her lips were on yours, her arms around your neck and your hands on her waist.

Your senses were dulled, but her essence sparked them back to life. There was nothing but the smell of her sweet vanilla perfume, the taste of her red lipstick, the feel of her hands, and the sound of her sighs.

She slipped her tongue into your mouth, and a sharp wave of arousal ignited in your stomach. It was excruciatingly painful, how much you wanted her. You would’ve taken her right there in the middle of the casino, had it not been for her hand dragging you away.

Your heartbeat fluttered against your chest and your clothes felt uncomfortable against your skin, but the way Natasha’s hips swayed in front of you as she walked had you quickly forgetting everything else.

The world around you blurred, tunnel vision focused on her and only her. She led you through the club, running into people and bumping the door on the way out.

Outside, the only thing to be heard was heavy breathing and wild heartbeats. Eventually you found the car. Natasha unlocked it and shoved you in the backseat, quickly scrambling after you and straddling your lap.

“It hurts,” you whined.

“I know,” she said, and you knew then that she was feeling the same hot pain of overwhelming arousal.

“Something’s not right,” you added.

“I know,” she said again. “But I don’t care. I want you. Do you want this?”

You nodded dumbly. “Yes. Please, Nat. I need you.”

Her lips were on yours, hot and heavy. With a fleeting thought, you broke the kiss and leaned forward to finally close the car door and seal yourselves in your own little world.

The windows quickly fogged up as she kissed you roughly, grinding mercilessly down into your lap. You assisted her movements with your hands on her hips.

Your heartbeat felt way too fast as you trailed sloppy kisses down her sweaty neck, but you couldn’t find it in you to care. If you were to die right then and there, well, you thought that would be just fine.

“Fuck, detka, I’m gonna—”

It didn’t take long for Natasha to reach her first orgasm, the climax built by nothing but the movements on your lap.

To your own surprise, your orgasm fluttered and exploded inside you right after hers, the sound of her pretty moans too much to bear.

The relief didn’t last long, however. Another painful wave of arousal crashed into you almost immediately. “Oh fuck,” she whined.

“What was in those cookies?”

“I don’t know but right now I don’t care,” she muttered, her hips resuming their movements.

Your hands gripped the bottom of her dress, looking to her for permission. When she gave it, you hiked up the short black number to reveal a lace thong underneath. “Fingers,” she breathed.

You looked up at her with awe, studying the sweat on her brow and the pants leaving her mouth. Your fingers ran along her ruined underwear, causing her breath to stutter. “Don’t be a fucking tease.”

“Yes ma’am.” You pushed her underwear aside and slipped a finger inside. “God, you’re so wet, Nat.”

“More,” she panted.

You ran your thumb over her clit, slipping a second finger inside. Her hips jerked. She began rocking in time with your movements, forming a rhythm of lewd noises and breathy moans.

You did your best to ignore the fiery ache between your legs, focusing desperately on your fingers curling inside Natasha.

She came once more with a silent scream. She kissed you sloppily before sinking down to her knees as best as she could in the cramped backseat.

She hastily unbuttoned your pants, tugging them and your underwear down your legs at once. The cool air hit your center and you realized just how wet you were.

“Fuck,” she said once before leaning in. She licked a strip up your pussy and you let out a choppy groan.

“Shit, Nat,” you breathed as she flicked her tongue over your clit. “Just like that, please.”

You fell apart within moments, screaming Natasha’s name like a prayer, over and over.

She kissed up your still-clothed torso, finally landing on your lips and letting you taste yourself on her tongue.

“We need to get out of here. I need room to fuck you properly,” she said against your lips.

“Nat, we can’t drive like this.”

“Would you rather get arrested for having sex in this car?”

She handed you the keys and let you drive. You did your best to focus on the road, but the way she was shifting in her seat and clenching her thighs was far too distracting.

“Fuck, Nat, you’re killing me.”

You readjusted in your seat, fighting desperately to ignore the painful arousal.

“Give me your hand.”

“What?”

“Fuck, I need you. Now.”

She took your right hand and guided it between her legs. Your left tightened on the steering wheel.

“Holy shit. I’m gonna fucking come from this alone,” you mumbled desperately. The arousal grew rapidly and you shifted once more as your fingers worked tirelessly between Nat’s legs.

You felt her clench around you as she threw her head back in ecstasy. When you pulled your fingers out, she grabbed your wrist and sucked your fingers into her mouth, holding eye contact relentlessly.

You swallowed a moan, fighting to turn your eyes back to the road.

The ten minute drive to your apartment felt like ten hours. You parked like shit and all but ran into the building.

As soon as the elevator doors closed, Natasha pushed you into the wall, kissing you with fervor. Her lips trailed over your jaw and down your neck, pulling moans from your throat as she left bruises in her wake.

“All mine,” she murmured against the column of your throat.

“All yours,” you panted.

The metal doors slid open with a ding and you stumbled out towards your apartment. You tried to find the right key, but Natasha was kissing your neck and your hands were shaking violently.

The key finally turned in the lock and the two of you practically fell into the apartment.

“Bedroom.”

You picked her up and brought her to it, laying her down on the bed. You crawled over her, laying your hands on her stomach. “Can I take this off?”

She nodded yes and helped you remove the dress from her body.

You ducked your head and began leaving marks on her chest. She squirmed impatiently underneath you. “What did I say about teasing,” she warned.

“Another time, then,” you obliged. Neither of you were coherent enough to acknowledge your mention of doing this again.

You took a stiff nipple into your mouth, swirling your mouth around it to draw out a soft sigh. You pinched and rolled the other between your fingers. You switched to give them equal attention.

As content as you would have been to stay there all night, she eventually pushed your head lower. You trailed kisses down her stomach and over her thighs before pausing where she wanted you most.

Your breath ghosted over those ruined lace panties as you looked up at her. You held the eye contact as you placed a kiss over her clothed clit. She groaned and tangled a hand in your hair.

“Detka, fuck me. Now. Please.”

You smirked before tearing her thong off and diving into her wetness. She twitched and clenched around your tongue as your hands held her steady against you.

A river of Russian came spewing from her mouth, doing nothing to stop the arousal soaking through your pants.

When she came this time, it was anything but silent. Your name fell from her mouth like it was the last thing she would ever get to say, and the moans that bounced off the walls ensured a noise complaint the next day.

You crawled up her body and when she opened her eyes, you knew you were far from done. With stupid, drug-induced grins on both of your faces, she asked if you had a strap. You nodded in a trance.

And then she was riding you. Gripping your headboard with white knuckles and leaving nasty red scratches on your back. The way the strap hit your clit with every thrust had you panting and moaning alongside her.

“Cum with me, dorogoy.”

And you did. You did your best to keep your rhythm as you both rode out your orgasms.

Your foreheads fell against one another. Heavy breathing filled the hot room.

“Does it still hurt?” She asked.

“Not as much,” you answered.

“‘S still foggy,” she slurred. You nodded in agreement.

Your eyes caught sight of the alarm clock beside your bed. You squinted to try and read it.

05:42

“Holy shit. Nat, how long were we in the casino?”

“Um, an hour maybe?”

“Nat, it’s almost six in the morning. I know we haven’t been fucking that long.”

“Oh my god. What the fuck were those cookies? Oh god. Fury probably thinks we’re dead.”

You moved to stand up, but the moan that tumbled from Natasha’s lips reminded you of the strap still inside her.

When your eyes met hers and you saw those lust blown pupils, every logical thought went out the window once more.

“Fury can wait,” you muttered as you slowly began rocking your hips again.

“Fury can wait,” Natasha repeated before her hand wrapped around your throat and brought your lips to hers.

When Fury and a team of agents broke down the door three hours later and found Natasha kneeling before you in the shower, you realized your mistake.

At least until Natasha looked him square in the eye and said “Lotus flowers produce sex pollen. Get out.”

It took all day for the effects to wear off, and Fury left the two of you alone to sort it out.

Natasha kissed you at the end of the day and said “We should do this again sometime.”

You kissed her back and said “We should do this again all the time. But maybe without the drugs.”

#natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff #black widow x reader #black widow #natasha romanoff smut #sex pollen #natasha romanoff fluff #natasha romanov #natasha romanoff x you

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honeymaki · 3 months

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𝘐 𝘨𝘶𝘦𝘴𝘴 𝘪𝘵 𝘵𝘢𝘬𝘦𝘴 𝘢 𝘣𝘢𝘥 𝘮𝘶𝘴𝘩𝘳𝘰𝘰𝘮 𝘵𝘰 𝘢𝘥𝘮𝘪𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘐 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘬 𝘐 𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶 .｡.:*･

Warnings: mentions of bodily harm, oral sex (f → receiving), penetrative sex, creampie, unneeded religious themes, mentions of body hair; reader has a hydro vision and is from Inazuma.

Words: 6k

Characters: Cyno; mentions of Tighnari as a reluctant tutor.

→ Notes: this is my first fic in honest to god years, proper thought out all consuming insane in the head fic; and I am proud of this.

The heat of Sumeru was different to the heat of Inazuma, the sweet smelling summers and the cool touch of the vast ocean on your toes were now just memories wisping like the steam that rose from streams, and the breeze that picked up the morning dew drops from leaves larger and thicker than any you had ever seen.

Inazuma summers meant blue ice pops and sweet milk beverages, lounging in you underclothes on the veranda, fanning yourself and whoever was your companion for the day, sucking on juicy melon slices and watching the fishermen bring in their catch of the day down by the shore, the crystal waves just beckoning you in for a much needed swim. The heat there was bearable, almost, with the promise of a fiery red autumn to follow if the sun got high enough and always smelling oh so sweet in the evenings when restaurants and common folk would move their cooking outdoors, smoke from the barbeques dancing in the mellow breeze like rice plumes in their paddy fields, carrying drippings of fat and roasted lavender melons to your nose. If the night was just right, you could just catch the slow baking of Tomoki’s dango, sweet rice cakes lathed with caramel or a soy glaze, both welcomed after hours wandering the slopes beneath Narakumi.

Sumeru summers, despite only experiencing a few in your recent years, were so stiflingly different and yet, a gentle reminder of what it was like back home. It was definitely - wetter with sweltering days that made it hard to breathe and made way for almost frigid nights, dew settling fat and heavy over the land, clouds gathering to tease a storm but only showering a gentle drizzle. The sprawling fields and jagged islands of Inazuma made way for the jungles and vast forests of Sumeru, sunlight dappled and sparkling no matter the time of day, shining through leaves and spider webs and flowers you had yet to name, catching in the estuaries and ponds snaking across the landscape. And the desert, dry and barren with the formidable beast in the sky baring down at all moments, was teaming with the same greenery as your new residence. You didn’t often venture past Caravan Ribat and the few times you did travel there, the sun was shielded behind great hanging cloths and rugs of immense beauty, some old and worn and some witnessing their first day protecting the residents and travellers of the threshold of the desert. Though the shade and protection of the trees was much more suited to you and your gentle memories of Inazuma, flitting from branch to branch the way you used to with the sea caves and shipwrecks of your home.

Sumeru summers meant ripe Zaytun peaches and crunchy radishes pickled with chilli and mint, sipping on lukewarm water from your pouch but wading through ice cold streams to document new outcrops of lotus’. It meant the constant shout of brightly coloured birds beyond your window, the low hum of traders passing through and offering their wares, the enticing aroma of curries and unleavened breads, both sitting heavy and comfortingly in your belly after every sweltering excursion.

There were times you missed Inazuma, deeply and painfully, but as it was, fate had called you beyond the services to the Shogunate and beyond the great sea which had previously been barred. The lifting of the decree saw a mass migration of people, some back to their original homes and many off to new, including yourself in the form of a letter from the Akademiya offering to school you in the great city of Sumeru.

That summer saw your first sea voyage, and your last taste of Inazuman sweetness for many years. The Akademiya was good to you, one of the first Inazumans in an age to study among their natives, bringing your knowledge of Inazuman biology and medicine to their foresight and introducing them to a world of eternity and strange new ways to ferment soybeans. It was difficult to grow accustomed to their culture, their ways and laws, and their itchy uniforms, preferring the loose garb that the forest rangers wore, their bows and their nimble knowledge. Studying under the Amurta discipline was a gentle reminder of home, reading about all sorts from around Teyvat, wishing so dearly to travel even beyond Sumeru to see it all for yourself; sitting at your desk in the early hours of the morning dreaming of the mountains of Liyue and the beauty of the Qingxin that you would find, wondering what it would be like to swim in the waters of Fontain and venture among the ancient forests of Mondstadt. Your love of the forest, of all things green and living and thriving sent you to Gandarva Villa, under the apparently famed and somewhat reluctant mentorage of Tighnari. Reluctant in that upon reading your thesis and realising that you had already submitted your first manuscript, and concluding that he had little idea of the basis of your study and that you had already nearly finished it entirely.

Inazuma had been closed off, shut to any and all outsiders for a generation, prompting only theories and wild ideas about your archon and her dealings; which lead to a dramatic decline in knowledge flowing from her shores, not only technologically but also botanically. Growing your first successful lavender melon on a rickety trellis in your front garden was talked about for weeks, fuelled only by your multiple displays of how one could cook, eat and utilise it. Food from Inazuma was indeed traded in the cities, but many of the forest rangers rarely ventured into the winding, bustling streets so in between studying and writing up a new version of your manuscript; you took it upon yourself to grow as much as you could from home to share with your new and beloved friends. And the Sumeru summers were the perfect growing conditions to do this, spending your pink and orange evenings pruning the naku weed and spreading straw beneath the amakuno fruits, tending to the delicate blooms of your unsuccessful dendrobiums.

Which is where you found yourself one calm and thankfully cool evening after feasting with your companions. Knelt on the grass, books and papers surround you and your distinct annoyance, chewing your lip and pondering on the answers you finally found regarding your one nemesis. A single sprout curls and threatens to wither before you, rejecting the sprinkle of water you summon from your palm, looking very sorry for itself; a sad reflection of its carer,

“I didn’t think I’d have to resort to such sinful methods little one,” you grumble, theory confirmed by the pocketbook of your own writing completed some years ago, “But I promised Tighnari and he looks really silly when he pouts,” as if your words would suddenly spark the sprout into blooming, a crumb of soil instead shuddered and dropped from its crisped leaf in defeat. A creature called out in the distance, wind blew gently through the valley and rustled your papers, concealing the staggering breaths of a person advancing on your delicate little world, and concealing the unsheathing of a small pocket knife. It was clear your intention, fuelled by your field notes and the archived history of Nazuchi Beach, and in a dramatic display; you held your hand out over the sorrowful sprout with the blade kissing your skin.

A hiss of breath and the nicking pain never came, pressure and a grunt revealed a hand holding your wrist far from the shining lick of the knife.

“What exactly are you doing?” the familiarity of that gruff voice causes a chill to ripple down your spin, hanging your head with heat in your cheeks, “I didn’t know it was Inazuman custom to sacrifice oneself to plants, dead ones at that,”

“I wasn’t going to entirely sacrifice myself, these plants grow only where blood has been spilt and I'm not going to ask someone else to do it for me, or start a war like they did back home so I figured -,” turning to face him, something catches you off guard. It wasn’t unusual for the General Mahamtra to pass through the valley, even stay for a few nights with his fellows, but it was unusual that he seemed - not quite right, despite still gripping you and staring at you with unimpressed judgement. So much so that you abruptly ended your swotty explanation and tried to pull away from him, to no avail,

“Are you okay? You look kind of unwell?” voice gentle and curious, causing Cyno to tighten his grip on your wrist even more, “Ah ! - you’re hurting me,”

“Where is Tighnari? I need to see him, something has happened…I’ve done something regreful,” even though he seemed to have been speaking perfectly fine a few seconds ago, Cyno suddenly sounded a thousand miles away and almost intoxicated. Eyes glancing around furtively, searching for nothing and everything, specifically your reluctant mentor who currently -,

“He’s away right now, Liyue - ow ! - there was a cooking event he wanted to go to and so I asked if he could pick me up some Violetgrass and also some starconches,” you say through your teeth, struggling out of his grasp and rubbing your wrist, squinting at his figure in the doctor-ish way Tighnari taught you. All of a sudden, he didn’t look much like a General Mahamatra, or even a matra; trying desperately to hide the sways in his body and the shaking of this fists held tightly by his side, tongue dipping out of his mouth to lap at the beads of sweat rolling down his upper lip, eyes red and rimmed dark. Words seem to be a loss for him at the news, swallowing thickly and looking down at his feet, toes digging into the carefully curated moss of your garden,

“What did you eat?” your sharp question stuns him out of his stupor for a moment, scrambling to your feet to assess him properly, “Or drink, but I assume it was something edible that has you sweating like the grand sage in a brothel,”

“Don’t - ,” he spits, “Don’t mock me,” you step back, hands up in submission, face shining with the want to help,

“I wasn’t Cyno, I promise, Tighnari isn’t here right now so I’m going to help you, but I need you to answer my questions so I can do that,” it occurred to you for a moment that as the General, Cyno probably knew about his friend’s little excursion and yet, came straight to you instead of the Akademiya. But a sharp exhale banished that thought from your mind,

“In the North, near Vanarana, there were Fatui breaking protocol,” at the mention of the mysterious and mostly unmapped region, you usher Cyno into your humble hut, drawing the wicker shutters and lighting a candle in the dwindling dusk, “they had stolen goods - crests from all over Teyvat, mostly food from Inazuma, some kind of mushroom …,”

“Oh Cyno, we have both told you never to -,”

“Yeah, yeah, never eat something I can’t name, I know; but it looked like a starshroom, it was glowing and I can obviously name that so, I ate it,” sinking into a chair, Cyno suddenly looked pale in the candlelight, wiping sweat from his brow and shifting his hips beneath your scrutinising gaze,

“Did you say it was glowing? You ate a glowing mushroom?” this was hardly the time for jesting but you couldn’t help but grin, vanishing in a second under Cyno’s scowl, “Tighnari is going to be so mad at you, I thought it was obvious not to go around tasting things that glowed! We teach that to children! And newcomers who have never seen anything like it before,” your berating is only half serious, rummaging around you various knapsacks and baskets for the ingredient you needed to ease his pain, handing him a strip of dried something or other with a kind look, “Chew on this, it should stop the pain in a few seconds but just hang tight okay? I’ll take care of you,”

As much of a mother you seemed around those who made mistakes, berating them sharply before showing them the right way or the solution; Cyno almost felt like a lover to you in the way you cupped his jaw to make sure he was indeed chewing on the bark, stroking the tops of his cheekbones and the round of his collar in search of a rash, fingers soft and methodical, loving in a way he was unsure of whether you used towards other patients. He watched you work, content with his stabilising condition and preparing some kind of drink, back facing him and sweetly busy at your workbench. You were so precise and aged in your movements, picking the right herb and concoction without having to think, mixing them perfectly into a hand thrown cup with an extra spoonful of something for good measure,

“Here,” you sat down in the chair next to him, pressing a cool palm to his forehead beneath his headpiece, “I put some sugar in it to make it a little easier to drink, m’fraid I didn’t have any lavender melon syrup left,” the cup is heavy when you push it towards him, eyes curious and ever watchful, “If you need to throw up then warn me first,”

That struck him as odd. “Why didn’t you make me do that as soon as I arrived here? Surely that’s the first protocol in eating something dangerous?” you jerked your head, an indicator for him to drink and truly, the sugar did nothing to hide the foul taste and Cyno couldn’t hold back the winces and the gags as he swallowed,

“You ate fluorescent fungus, probably a rarer sub-specie that is very similar to the starshroom and native to Inazuma, obviously. The spores would have touched your lips first and as it is a very delicate plant -,” you fiddle with a small pocket book left on the table, showing him a beautiful painted depiction of the yellow-ish fungus he ate, “your saliva would have dissolved it before it even hit your stomach so vomiting would not have done much,” he nods, somewhat in defeat, gulping the last of your concoction with a poorly hidden gag, “We can sit until you feel better if you’d like, I’m surprised you didn’t have worse symptoms. Usually people get hallucinations, fainting, loss of limb control; the usual when one eats a poisonous mushroom, but you’re strong I guess,” you steal a glance at his body reclined and tense in the chair, “or just resistant,” Cyno doesn’t reply, tilting his head back and taking a shallow breath, still uncomfortable and unwell, “Just relax, it’ll take effect in a little bit, I’ll take care of you while it does,”

There was that strange feeling that made Cyno want to suck in his cheeks and puff out his chest, but it was not all that unfamiliar. Moments like this were common, more so in the recent visits, the ones where he felt like you could be a little more than the Inazuman who knows surprisingly too much. Sat around the fire in the cool nights, palm held in yours, tracing the deep callouses and lines and pretending to be a mage from your home city, making up some jumbo about his future and him suddenly so wishing you were in it; waving at him from down in the valley, wading with the fishes and the fungi, trousers rolled up to your knees and looking just about the happiest he had ever seen you; listening from the shadows as you animatedly retold stories from travelling around Watatsumi and foraging the pearls hidden beneath the glowing waters, an eagerly fond look twinkling in his eye; slyly asking about you at the Akedamiya, wondering about your studies and pretending to be interested in your thesis when all he could see was your printed name at the top of the manuscript; times when you thought he couldn’t see you looking at him with his headpiece off, a cut on his brow or a set of cards on the table in front of him, noticing your longing gaze and keeping it safe for the lonely nights in the desert.

You were looking at him now, thinking he was resting, allowing your eyes to trace the steady rise and fall of his chest, the soft skin of his stomach and the trunks of his thighs, spread and inviting. It takes all he has not to smirk, or flush, or even move. It’s strange, he thinks, he feels almost uncomfortable in that he desperately wants to do something about it, in an all the more wanton way. Makes him feel wound up, on edge almost, biting his tongue and scrunching his toes in case he might stand up and simply confess.

“How do I know if I’m hallucinating?” Cyno knows he isn’t, but it fills the heady silence and he hears you readjust yourself, sitting up a little straighter,

“Well, first of all, you shouldn’t be hallucinating now since the medicine should be working,” there’s concern in your voice, licking like a lover over his ears, feeling you press forward and he feels you caress his closed eyelid, “look at me? Why could you be hallucinating now?” he’s lazy in aiding your poking and prodding, allowing you to remove his headpiece and place it on the table, blinking blearily, “Describe what you are feeling please, and what you’re seeing,”

“I’m not sure how to describe it,” he grumbles after a moment in gathering his thoughts, struggling in your close proximity, “You’re so close, it’s interfering with my concentration,” you furrow your brows, confused and more than concerned, that same soft scowl of a lover settling on your face at his words, “there, you’re doing things and saying things and making me feel things I’m not accustomed to, it feels wrong; like it and you and all this shouldn’t be here,”

“And so, you think that you’re experiencing a hallucination of what exactly?” you feel for a temperature, sitting back in your chair at his leaning forwards into the touch of your hand, “I’m not sure you’re hallucinating Cyno, your vitals are - ,” precise fingers dig into the doughy, giving skin under his chin to feel for a pulse, finding it strong and fluttering like a small bird, “Let me get you something to drink, water this time I promise,” you’re not angry with his feigning symptoms, or that concerned at his apparent anxiety, not berating him in that motherly way like you usually do and that only causes his pulse to rocket higher and the anxiety creep further into his gut. You’re acting in that way again, sweet eyes and a sweeter voice, like honey, fetching him a cool welcomed cup of water in the way such as after a night of -

You distinctly remember hearing absolute silence in the seconds between you standing to get your guest some water, and then feeling his imposing presence behind you, close enough to feel his breath on the back of your neck. Time stops at the sound of his fists clenching by his side, swallowing thickly at the sight of your inviting skin, physically shaking in his restraint,

“I feel like I’m dreaming, like none of this and none of what I am feeling is real,” you’re silent still, barely breathing in the confined space he’d boxed you into, a small corner of your hut with a sink that provided you some much needed physical support. Psychologically however, you were in turmoil. Cyno, the Great General Mahamtra, felt as if he was having a hallucination or some kind of dream in his apparent romantic or lustful pursuit of you, and the implication of what was standing behind you was suddenly too much to bear.

“I could - pinch you if you’d like,” the voice that leaves you doesn’t sound like your own, shaky and shy, “Dreams aren’t real, you shouldn’t be able to feel or touch or taste in a dream, if you concentrate hard enough,”

A beat passes, filled with sharp, quiet breaths passing between you and it aches that you cannot see what he’s doing, or what he looks like or how he feels. Your heart flutters like a sakura petal in the spring breeze, mouth dropping open when you feel his hands rest on your hips, burning hot through your clothes. Cyno sucks in a breath, lips dry and cool as they part against your neck, tongue darting out to taste the damp saltiness of your skin,

“I feel you,” he mumbles into your jugular, thick hair sticking to the side of your face and his nails dig into the cushiony flesh of your hips, “I feel you, and you feel - soft, so soft,” hips press into you, strong and hard and fluid, “And you taste like nectar, like honey and wine and - like a dream,”

“It’s been more than enough time for the medicine to take its full effect, you shouldn’t feel any more side effe…Cyno,” his name comes out a sigh at his attaching his mouth fully to your throat, wet and warm and causing your knees to buckle. He catches you, almost, slinging an around around your middle and hoisting you back against him, panting against the back of your neck,

“I guess you’re right,” one hand grips your wrist, urging you to put down the cup and Cyno lifts it to his lips, nose running down the pulsing veins as it trying to absorb your scent and the effect he has on your pulse, throbbing beneath the delicate skin, “How could this be a dream, a hallucination if I can feel everything, taste you on my tongue, touch you like this?”

He’s grinding against you, body writhing in tandem with his in response, mouth open with heady gasps and mewls that remind him over and over that not only did you save him from certain madness, but you also were eagerly reciprocating his equally eager advances. Long fingers unlace the ties of your trousers and dip beneath your waistband, instead dragging up into your shirt, loose and comfortable for your planned evening of study, now easily parting like clouds on a blustery day for him. The first touch against your chest sends you shivering into his grip, fingertips brushing the underside of your breast oh so softly and politely before gripping a little firmer, then altogether greedily. Flesh spilling between his fingers, nipple catching on a callous, rough and a little mean but eliciting such a submissive little reaction that Cyno nearly folds forward against you.

“Please, please, please,” you’re muttering desperately, sacred like you’re saying a prayer, pushing your chest further into his touch and arching your back, “Touch me please,”

“You’re always so polite,” he isn’t much for words, let alone praises but you’re so dear and so sweet in his arms, shivering like a little lamb and even bleating at the slithering of his other hand into your trousers. With his face still nuzzling into your neck, Cyno is only just able to hide his distinct devastation at how wet you are, positively soaking your underwear and covering his fingers in honeyed slick. He grips your breast harder, plucking at your nipple at the same luxurious pace as his forefingers sliding through your cunt, slipping sloppily over your clit and you all but howl. You aren’t quite sure what to do with your hands, the one he was previously lathing kisses to was now somehow tangled in his hair, holding him in place and it’s grounding, it’s anchoring you to the intense, gooey pleasure coursing through your gut. Your other hand is gripping his forearm, the one deep between your thighs or the one greedily fisting your breasts, you aren’t sure but your nails hurt and you think it’s because you’re holding on too tight, but how can you not when too much is happening all at once?

Cyno feels your arousal coating his hand, palm sticky and fingers pruning with his assault, languid circles over your clit, following the shivers and writhes of your body with grinds and jerks of his own. Gods, he’s so hard that it hurts, and he knows that you’re so close, so fucking close to cumming but he can’t help but still worry if he’s dreaming, if this is all an after effect of his incident, if you’d neglected to tell him how long something like a hallucination could last. He vaguely hears you howl in agonising dejection when he rips his hand from your trousers, strings of arousal glistening in between his fingers in the light and he’s struck with how you’d much prefer to cry over the loss than watch him lick up the mess you’d made. You only just manage to catch his eyes rolling back at the taste, dripping down his wrist, three fingers shoved into his mouth and positively devouring the essence of you. Tears leak down your cheeks, replacing his fingers with your lips in a whirlwind of need and hard, hot desperation, swallowing his surprised grunt with a whine of your own. Cyno doesn’t respond for a moment, shocked at your display of wantonness, tongue licking inside his mouth in a thinly veiled attempt at tasting your own arousal and his grip on you suddenly becomes all the more fierce.

“I can’t - I can’t -,” your kisses grow sloppy with your begs, struggling to pull your trousers down, almost losing your balance and it pains Cyno to part from you for even a second to disrobe himself. Red eyes follow your every movement, toeing off your shoes and ungracefully kicking away your trousers, bending over for a moment and it takes everything in him not to cum on the spot. Nestled between your thighs, dripping and plump, the scent of it wounding him to his knees, crawling half dressed over to you,

“Gods - fuck,” eyes fluttering closed at your suprised gasp, tongue darting out to lick gently, lightly like he was licking honey from his finger, catching the leaking drops and feeling his stomach clench, and his cock kick against his thigh. You remain in place, frozen against his curious, pointed licks, flattening his tongue after having his fill and splitting your pussylips with a lewd noise. He could be content between your thighs for the rest of his life, Akademiya be damned, coming home from his duties to this lifeline of saccharine sin that he swallows down greedily and selfishly. The wings of your shirt sit bunched over your hips, sliding low over your ass until he frustratedly fists the cotton against your cheek and spreads you enough to put his whole mouth against you.

“Cyno! Ah - !” you startle forwards, but he only follows like a worshipper, slurping and swallowing every flutter and every throb of you, fingers digging hard into your thigh and ass to keep himself in place. A tentative hand cards into his hair, a question and his answer was a long, slow moan directly into your cunt, vibrating between your hips and the result was your closeted strength almost shoving him over, nose hitting your clit and causing you to gyrate deliciously.

That was all he wanted, this drawn out stupor only stabilised by your shuddering grinds against his tongue, palm slapping against the countertop. If you’d allow him, Cyno would do this every day, he’d gladly station himself in the city if he got to taste the heaven between your thighs even for a few seconds in the mornings before he was called in to deal with the country’s worst and the best. It would be a welcome reprieve, one he’d been craving without even knowing it; in the moments alone with you, sacred and secret, soft and sweet and warm. To feel you gushing down his chin, moans reaching their crescendo and legs shaking on your tiptoes, all but sobbing into the crook of your elbow as you cum; it would be worth the sacrifice.

Cyno felt selfish, detaching himself from your cunt, resting his forehead against the back of your thigh and smoothing his hands over your shuddering calves, down to your ankles and then back up to your ass.

“Are you okay?” his breath is hot on your skin, and through your gulping pants, you manage to answer with a cracked ‘mhm’. You feel him smile wide and smug, standing and hiccuping at the state of you, slumped against the sink and writhing as if in pain, whole body breathing with your dwindling orgasm, “Come here, I got you,”

Carefully and all too greedily, Cyno scoops your torso against his with his hand angling your jaw, tilting your face up to his. A kiss is pressed to your lips, languid and lazy, a stark contrast to the blunt head of his cock kissing the lips of your cunt. You shudder, unable to return his kisses but trying so desperately to keep his stare, eyes boring into yours as he angles his hips.

“I got you,” he murmurs a promise, feeling your fingers lace with his over your throat, watching your lids flutter as he presses into you, “Stay with me, I got you I promise, just a little more,”

Breathy and fleeting, Cyno recites his words like a prayer, thrusting gently and shallowly at your wobbling bottom lip, swallowing your discomforted hiccups. He doesn’t thrust to the hilt like he so dearly wishes to, filling you in one swipe and leaving you reeling - no, he’s slow, methodical, precise and doesn’t break eye contact for even a second. Keeping a firm grip on your jaw, chasing the breaking down of your resolve every inch he slides into you until there’s no more, snug and warm and so fucking wet. He feels you against his pelvis, against his thighs, sticky and warm, shuddering when he kisses you once more, almost like a praise for taking him all the way.

You’re trying to speak, trying to make any sort of sound but the breath is stolen from your chest when he starts an agonisingly deep grind, up into you, hardly leaving the warmth of your cunt and digging hard into your belly. It feels as though he’s in your throat, eyes never leaving yours and sending you spiralling, gasps turning into whimpers turning into hiccuping sobs of his name with every defying push of his hips. Cyno sees your eyes flutter for a second, lips parted and brushing yours, swallowing every delicious sound you make, responding with grunts of his own in both encouragement and sin.

“Eyes on me,” he purrs, a crack in his voice at the sudden way you choke him, cunt clenching at the drop in his tone. Cyno shudders, pace slipping and he slides his hand down over the swell of your belly, feeling for the slippery bud of your clit. When he decides to match the slow, heady pushes and pulls of his hips with heavy thrums over your clit, you’re quite unsure of how you manage to stay standing upright.

“Ah - ! Cyno !” he never falters, not even when you grind back up against him, not even when you try to lick into his mouth for even a semblance of grounding, not even when you cum so hard that fat tears roll down your cheeks, not even when you finally catch your voice and reach back to grip hard at his hair, “Again, make me cum again please,” you beg, “Please Cyno, please - inside, cum inside, make it deep - please,”

Begging didn’t seem to be about your usual person, the one he knew that shared their meals and knowledge with anyone who asked, so to hear it fall from the heaven of your lips was surely his downfall. It was unexpected, it tore a deep and long snarl from his chest, grinds turning into thrusts turning into something damning and gut wrenching. The fingers on your clit were kinder, swift circles to keep you leaking down your thighs but the cock battering your sensitive walls was less so.

He never stops watching you though, even when you reach a second completion, all the more messier and sloppier than the first, red heavy eyes boring into yours without faltering for even a second. Cyno presses his forehead to yours, the angle causing your neck to ache but it goes unnoticed through the life giving pleasure he brings you, with every greedy slam of his pelvis against your ass. Lips touch yours in the moment he cums, eyes finally snapping shut and you think he looks beautiful through the fog of your orgasm; illuminated by the candle light, sweat flecking his brow, hair mussed and tangled in your fingers. Jaw ticking with every twitch of his cock deep inside of you, warmth spreading through your hips and thighs, feeling his hand flatten over your stomach as a kind of worship, caressing the space he fills so deliciously.

“I - ,” he swallows heavily,

“It’s okay,” is the first thing you can think of, “I wanted it too,” Cyno’s eyes open and he searches your face, “For… a while,”

It feels like eternity before he answers, nudging his nose against yours affectionately,

“Would it surprise you to admit I felt the same? That I waited far too long, and chose a rather idiotic time to do it?” the corner of his lips lift in a smirk,

“Honestly and with your track record? Not really, you have a bad habit of keeping things to yourself,” with bated breath you lean to kiss him softly, “But so do I, I guess,”

Cyno clenches his jaw as he pulls away from you, surveying the mess of your coupling before surveying the mess between your thighs. He flushes dark, lust threatening red again at the white threatening to spill to the floor,

“Here, let me - help you,” he aids in removing your soiled shirt, using that as a rag between your thighs and he hisses along with your protests at the sensitivity, “I’m sorry, I’ll be gentler next time, I promise,” you aren’t shy in your nudity, how could you really? And you turn to Cyno with heated cheeks,

“Next time? When - urm - when do you plan on having a next time?” Goosebumps flurry over your arms, nipples perking in the coolness of the night and Cyno can’t help but reach out, cupping the weight of your breast and sighing at the feeling, “I can’t, not right now - that’s too soon Cyno! You gotta let me rest! Don’t be so - !”

And he laughs. Full and loud and hearty, gripping you and embracing you and kissing you with laughter wrinkling his face, craning you backwards and swaying you to and fro. You squeal, thighs tacky and sticky but following his movements, allowing him to swing you over to your cot on the far wall.

“I would never defile you without asking, and not before tasting you thoroughly too,” Cyno kneels before you, a covenant and their disciple, hands tucked together in prayer, “And besides, I’m still questioning whether this is a dream,”

“I could pinch you, again, if you like?” You draw your blanket up around your shoulders, sliding backwards further on to the bed, noticing for the first time that Cyno still had a majority of his upper clothing on and there was something about the exposure of his abdomen, the ripples of his muscles, the thatch of white hair trailing down from his belly button to his cock resting between his thighs that gets you all tingly and warm again. He folds himself into the small space with you, catlike and flexible, kissing your forehead with a hum,

“Maybe in a few hours, I’ll probably wake up and need a splash of something on my face to remind me I’m not hallucinating,” it takes you a second to catch on, hiding your face in your hands with a mortified groan and Cyno laughs again, gathering you close, keeping your quaint reaction to his terrible joke a secret, a safe little slice of heaven only for him to enjoy. In the back of his mind, he remembers suddenly that out of everyone; you’re the only one who entertained his jokes and silly puns, and the first time you genuinely laughed at one was also probably the first time he decided that he loves you. The word chases tails in his mind as he succumbs to sleep, tucked up against you and keeping his lips firmly pressed to your forehead, an imprint of himself for you to feel even when he wasn’t there.

#cyno x reader #cyno smut #genshin impact smut #genshin impact x reader #cyno x y/n #cyno x you #genshin impact x you #I hope this one shows up:((((

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sorrowful-lover · 1 month

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Douma x Demoness! Reader - Devotion

NSFW : Sadistic thoughts, Dark depictions, dark thoughts, Cock Gagging, Cock Worship, slight slut shaming, slight degradation, masochism, hair pulling, graphic sexual intercourse.

Slight Summary: A young demoness, is ready to show her utmost devotion to Lord Douma in the dead of night.

I wish to give thanks to @mrskokushibo for the inspiration for this story, I couldn't have done it without her!! Go and read her content, she has some very spicy stories!!

This is my first ever story, and I wouldn't mind feedback.

The sound of crickets and cicadas could be heard singing throughout the dark forest, the night sky was a hazy deep blue, the stars standing out like white dots on a giant canvas, standing out the most against the dark canvas was the crescent moon. In the distance, overseeing the forest, stood a temple. Everyone who lived close to the forest knew of this temple and promptly called it 'The Eternal Paradise Faith' but most considered it to be a cult.

Hundreds of people went to the temple, all with the hope that the man, who has been said to have been sent by the gods to answer their prayers. Most who go into the temple never come back, as they'd rather live with the diety, to gain utmost peace and tranquility, as they say, it's the only way for your prayers to come true.

Within the temple, it was dark, everyone was in their beds asleep for the night, ready to face tomorrow, hoping that it would be the day they would obtain true peace. The floors were shiny marble, the walls were made of white rose quartz, carvings of Buddha laid about the ceiling, and the pillars, within his palms, he was holding a lotus. Along with the Buddha carvings, beautiful lotus designs littered the building, giving an ambiance of peace and relaxation.

Within the silence, the sound of something hard could be heard clacking against the marble floors in a rhythmic pattern. A pair of black high heels could be seen, cat-walking through the darkness slowly, with long smooth legs, a red dress cutting off the view of skin, hips rotating side to side, a lush waist, a pair of lovely breasts, slightly bouncing from her walk, thin straps over her shoulders. Her gaze was that of a predator, her narrow-slitted pupils piercing into the dark, locked onto a pair of large brown doors that appeared black in the darkness, their golden handles slightly gleaming in the dark.

Once at the door, her fingers slowly wrapped around it, the confidence and sexual energy she expelled was enormous. She pulled the door open, revealing a large, dark room. The marble floor was replaced with a wooden one, and the Buddha carvings were laid upon the walls, giving off the same peaceful ambiance. Towards the center of the room on the left, lay a sizable, polished wooden shrinelike structure, the four pillars held up the top of the shrine, engravings of lotus littered the top of the border, blue and green curtains draped around it, pulled back on each side to show the middle of it.

Inside, was a large, purplish, zabuton pillow that lay in the center of it, upon the pillow, laid her target. The young deity himself. He was looking over at her with a questionable look, his rainbow eyes holding curiosity within them as he stared at her, his legs crossed and his hands lay in his lap lazily. She gave him a flirtatious smile as she walked into the room, gently closing the door behind her. She walked over towards him, the same slow rhythmic walk, a more eager bounce in her step as she stared him down. He cocked his head at her before an empty, welcoming smile graced his face.

"Oh~! Y/N!! I'm surprised to see you here, and especially at this time of night~!! What brings you here, dear?" He asked in a friendly voice. She stopped short of his shrine before she raised her hand up under her breast, she then slowly trailed it down over her waist, hip, thigh, knee, leg, and finally down to her shoe. She silently took it off, her head angled to where she was sure he could see her cleavage through the neckline of her dress. She repeated this process with her other shoe.

His eyes remained trained on her, a patient yet knowing smile on his face as he watched her. She gently picked her shoes up together before she neatly placed them down together on the floor with a gentle clack from the heel. She sat down on her legs, knees bent as she placed her hands on her lap. "I've come to you, Lord Douma, with an important question." She spoke calmly and collected. He tilted his head slightly. "And just what would that question be, my dear~?" He kindly asked. Her smirk slowly lost its flirty look and turned into a small smile across her face. "I wish to ask, how do I obtain peace and tranquility?" She asked.

Her voice sounded genuine, her smile matching her voice. His smile widened and he closed his eyes as he gave the same recited answer he always gave. "Why, peace and tranquillity are obtained once you've overcome the trials and tribulations of your life~ the more hectic your life, the harder it will be to obtain peace. Hence why you cannot be one with the world and seek peace, it's always going to unbalance itself." He explained. She tilted her head, intrigued by his words that she has heard a thousand times. "Your words are always so deep and philosophical, Lord Douma, your wisdom knows no bounds." She praised.

He chuckled at her words. "Well, I am known as the god who brings peace and tranquility, for wisdom is simply a part of what I've been blessed with~." He said in a chirpy voice. She gave him a questioning stare yet her smile never left. "Seeing as how you are the god of peace and tranquillity, does that mean I must be around you in order to obtain such?" She asked. He gave her a condescending smile as he stared at her with kind eyes that held slight pity within them. "Only if you wish to obtain peace and tranquility~." He said.

She gave a soft chuckle. "You're already aware that I do, I wish to worship you, lord Douma." She said, her eyes gleaming with an unknown emotion. His smile widens. "You've already given yourself to me, now you must work on obtaining peace and tranquility ~!! But you already knew all of this... why Y/N~? Why must you come and test my intelligence so?" He asked, his smile was far from kind as his eyes shined with the promise of pain and punishment.

Her heart nearly skipped a beat at the stare, as her back straightened out, the heel of her foot dug into her pussy through her dress, giving her stimulation. He watched as her thighs shifted and her hips wiggled, sensing her discomfort and smelling her excitement, he blinked and the dark look vanished and it was replaced with pity and mirth. "Tell me, Y/N~ what do you want from me?" He asked in a purr.

She sighed at the tone of his voice as her rocking sped up, the part where her heel was plunged into her sobbing pussy was making a damp print of her red dress, and her thighs flexed and relaxed as her hips rolled. "My Lord, I want you to touch me, I want you to do such unholy things to me~." She moaned out, as her hand slowly crept up her thigh, her fingers purposely hooking under her dress as she slowly rose it up her thighs, nearly exposing her panties before they unhooked, it trailed up her stomach slowly till it reached her breast where she grabbed it with a sensual sigh.

His eyes were slightly hooded in glee at her actions, he was entertained by her, he truly was. He wasn't aroused by demoness, they couldn't get him riled up like a young, virgin, gorgeous human woman did, the sight of the pleasure and fear in her eyes as he'd have his way with her, her screams of plea for help as he'd dig his claws into her soft skin, the smell of her warm blood, her hair getting knotted. Just the thought alone was enough to get his cock to twitch. He decided to entertain her.

" So You wished to be touched by me~? To be caressed and held~? To be unclothed and licked upon~? To be bitten and marked~? To be thrown onto your back, to be dominated~? To be forced to lie upon your back as I ravish you to my heart's content~? To be suckled upon while I finger your moist, tight, aching pussy~? To have your clit sucked upon~? To have your back arching as you call to the heavens from your orgasm~? To be flipped onto your knees, and to have your waist covered in bruises from my heavy touch~?

To be pounded into, by my thick, curved, long, dick~? To be spanked and manhandled like the little whore you are~? To be moaning my name into the echoing of my room~? To reach your second orgasm with trembling legs~? To be overstimulated by my constant thrusting~? To be flipped onto your side while I grab your soft throat with my large and powerful hand~? To have me whisper into your ear about how you're being such a good girl for me~? To have your thigh held up over my own as I thrust into you, hard and fast~? To have my groans and moans fill your dirty mind~? To have my seed fill you as you reach your last orgasm~? Is that what you want me to do to you, my sweet~?" He purred out.

Her eyes hooded and her lip locked under her teeth as her hand messaged her breast and her other slowly made its way between her thighs, her sweet moans sounded out, echoing into the quiet room, her mind imaging his vivid description of what he'd do to her. "Yes~! Yes, Lord Douma~!! That's what I want! That's what I crave, please, have mercy upon me, and bless me with such actions, I beg of you!" She whined and moaned out her pleas. His smile widened as he held back his gleeful chuckles. He didn't usually do this with demoness, but seeing her being so desperate made him want to be the slightest bit nice to her.

"You wish to worship my cock that badly~? How shameless." He teased. She whined in want as she batted her lashes at him prettily. "Please, Lord Douma?" She said in a soft voice. He observed her for a second longer before he uncrossed his legs, man spreading onto the zabuton as he curled his finger at her for an invite. "Come here, my little vixen~." He said. She was quick to crawl on her knees over towards him, climbing up into the shrine as she kneeled before him, she dared not to touch him, and her eyes trailed over his masculine features.

His handsome face, his Adam's apple, his strong shoulders, his wide chest, his toned stomach, his thick forearms, his powerful hips, and lastly, the main prize that was covered with his hakama pants. He smiled down at her with empty fondness, as he reached out and he petted her head. "Go on, I grant you permission to touch me as you please~." He said in a gentle voice. Her hands got to work, as she slowly trailed them up his strong and toned thighs, closing in on her prize. Her hands cuffed around his clothed cock in a diamond shape, his thickness was shown through the bunched fabric as she ran her hands over his flaccid cock.

He stared down at her with patient and observant eyes, watching as she literally worshiped his cock. She moved her hands back only to move them back in as she unbuckled his belt, unbuttoned his pants, and unzipped them. Her anticipation was heavy, her heart hammered in her chest as she was revealed to her prize. She gently and carefully pulled him out, holding it gently in her palm as she gazed at it. "It's very handsome." She complimented. He smiled but said nothing, as he enjoyed watching her in her trance.

She gently kissed the tip before she opened her mouth and she wrapped her tongue around the tip, french kissing it before she took him into her mouth. Unfazed by her actions, he watched with mirth as she sucked his flaccid cock, working to get him hard. "My~ You're very skilled at that, I can tell, but it'll take more than that to get me hard." He said. She sucked his cock slightly harder as she hollowed out her cheeks, her throat opened to take him deeper, he remained unfazed at the feeling of her smooth tongue rubbing under his cock, the walls of her cheeks hugging his cock, her throat tight around the tip of his cock as she took him in deeper.

"Hmm~ I don't think you understand... So, let me help you." He said with a close-eyed smile. She looked up at him, waiting for him to explain, but she was shocked when he suddenly grabbed the back of her head and he pushed her all the way down his cock till her nose was pushed into the base of his abdomen, he held her there for a while, the feeling of her throat adjusting and swallowing around his cock brought a smirk to his face and a twitch to his cock. "Human women, are so much more fun to play with, by now, her throat would be squeezing me from the lack of oxygen, constantly swallowing, the ridges of her throat feeling so good~" He said, his eyes shining with a sadistic gleam.

"But, you're sadly a demon, so I won't get that from you~." He mourned before he grabbed a fist full of her hair and he pulled her back, the tip laid on the middle of her tongue, her saliva coated his cock, strings connected from her chin down to his balls, a dazed look on her face as she looked up at him with utmost admiration. He smirked down at her face before he pushed her head back down as he thrusts up, her gagging was loud as she gripped his pants tightly, focusing on breathing through her nose as he mouth fucked her to his heart's content.

"Are you enjoying yourself, Y/N~? Is this what you wanted? To be used like a whore, to be my source of pleasure~?" He purred out. She moaned in response, her hips swayed from side to side as she rubbed her clit on the heel of her foot, and her pussy leaked through her panties to her dress. His grip on her hair tightened as he picked up his speed and force, practically slamming her face back down into his lower abdomen. His eyes grew a hazy look, as she was mentally replaced with a human girl.

Her brows furrowed as her closed eyes tightened, along with her grip on his pants, and her orgasm came crashing down on her. Her jaw twitched closed around his cock, her teeth squeezing him as his muscles convulse, her pussy spasmed as her moans came out high pitched. Her release trailed down her feet making a small pool around the ball of her foot. From the feeling of her teeth clenching down on his twitching cock, he gave a loud groan as his thigh muscles twitched, his hazy and dazed eyes shined in glee at the pleasurable feeling.

The sound of her gagging, the feeling of her contracting throat, her slapping hands upon his thighs, her nails digging into his skin. His cock twitched hard in her throat. He gave a throaty groan in response to his wandering thoughts. She moaned back in response, her hips picking up speed as she grinded down on her heel, her core clenched and unclenched, her stomach growing hot, signifying her of an approaching orgasm.

His own heels dug into the floor of the small shrine, generating a creaking sound as his thrusts became quicker. Her moaning became constant as she felt her orgasm coming, the vibration of her moans stimulated him, and he groaned deeply as his head threw back, his Adam's apple bobbing as he swallowed thickly.

He looked down at her, seeing his saliva-coated cock appear and disappear from his sight. He stared a little longer before he pulled her off his cock, and her post-orgasmic moans sounded out as she was in a dreamy daze from her intense orgasm. He gave her a sadistic smile as he chuckled. "My~ that was actually rather fun... what else can you give me?" He questioned as he sat up, he let her hair go, allowing her to sit up on her own, she stared up at him, admiration was mixed in with her fucked out haze. "Take your clothes off." He simply ordered. She raised her hands up grabbingthe thin strap on her shoulder, as she slid them down, allowing her dress to fall down her body, it pooled around her waist before she stood up, and it fell to pool around her feet.

He watched patiently, as she took off her bra, the straps slid down her shoulders, and she pulled it down, releasing her breasts, her nipples hardened, ready to be played with, she turned it around on her so that she could properly unclip it, allowing it too to fall with her dress. Her hands cuffed her breasts as she closed her eyes, her fingers rubbing over her perky nipples as she moaned softly, her thighs rubbing together. Her hands slid down her body, her bottom lip locked under her teeth as she hooked her thumbs under her panties, slowly pulling them down, bending over with them till they hit the floor.

She slowly straightened out, her hands trailing up her body as she did, running them over her legs, knees, thighs, hips, waist, breast, neck, face, and up into her hair, she gave him a sluttery stare as she batted her lashes at him. His dazed eyes stared at her as he beckoned her over with his finger. "Come here~." He purred. She walked over towards him, her hands coming up to rest on his shoulders. She marveled at how strong and toned they looked. She looked up into his eyes.

They were dazed and hazy, almost like he wasn't really staring at her, it was like he was in a dream-like state. His hand trailed up her hips, around over back to her ass where he roughly squeezed her cheeks. She gave a soft moan at the rough treatment, his nails seeming like they were going to pierce her skin, he pulled her forward, making her spread her legs as she stumbled forward into his lap. Her arms wrapped around his neck, her fingers playing with the hair at the base of his neck. His hands trailed up her waist, over her back, and back down. She looked down between them, seeing his spit-coated cock pent between them.

The tip leaked pre cum as it slightly twitched from a pulse. She was brought from her musing when he suddenly laid back, her hands pulling from his shoulders to rest on his chest as she stared down at him. "I want you to ride me, show your devotion to me.~" He said. Her hands ran over his chest, feeling his muscles underneath his shirt, theybran down his abdomen, till she reached his glistening cock. She roughly grabbed it, vaguely recalling his reaction when she bit down on him earlier. It was the right move as his cock throbbed under her actions.

He swallowed at the feeling of her rough treatment, his hands resting lazily on her hips as they moved around to circle her ass cheeks and thighs. She sat up on her knees, while her hands guided his cock down between her legs toward her aching pussy. 'This is it... I'm going to be one with Lord Douma.' She thought excitedly as she slowly sunk down on him. Her eyes rolled as they fluttered close, the stretch slightly burning from not being prepared beforehand, but it was such a good feeling, it burned just right as she descended down his throbbing cock. The feeling of his veins and throbs brought small moans from her mouth as she sunk down.

His eyes were glued to where he could see himself entering into her, her clit slightly throbbing from the stimulation, the feeling of her core clenching. This was different, he wasn't used to having sex to pleasure his partner, he'd usually have sex out of boredom as he'd kill his next meal. It was never to give his partner pleasure. It was always for sadistic reasons. With her, it was different, he didn't hate it, but it was different. His thumb brushed over her clit, and she bucked, making her descend down his shaft fully making them both give a pleasurable sigh.

Her nails dug into his chest making him groan from the pain, his thumb rubbed heavy, fast circles on her clit, and her core tightened making his cock twitch from the feeling of her soft gummy walks pressing into every crevice of his cock, his other hand held onto her hip, his nails dug into her skin making indents into the soft flesh. She moaned from the stimulation on her clit, her hips grinding up into his thumb and down on his cock, her head flopped to the side her eyes closed as she tried to focus on riding, raising her hips up before she brought her ass down heavily on his lap.

He moaned out as his hips raised up to meet her halfway giving her the extra boost to bounce up, their moans, huffs, and groans sounded out in the room, the muffled sound of clapping echoed out, the gooey sound of her pussy could be heard as she grew wetter, her walls contracting and releasing around his twitching cock. He pulled his thumb from her clit, in favor of grabbing her ass, effortlessly picking her up, and letting gravity do its job of making her plant back onto his cock. The muscles in his arms, chest, and shoulders flexed.

His thigs slightly moved back and forth as he thrusts up into her fluttering walls, one of his feet rose onto the ball of his foot, helping his hips to angle up slightly, her reaction was immediate as she threw her head back and she moaned loudly into the empty room. The head of hisbcock pressing against her g spot heavily, hard and fast.

His eyes focused in on her bouncing breasts, watching as they did small little circles as they moved freely from the forcing of their fucking. Her hands moved down his chest towards her clit where she pressed her fingers against it heavily as she aggressively rubbed it.

"NNUAAGH!! FUCK!" He shouted before her walls loosened and they fluttered aggressively as she came hard around his cock. "AH! AH! AH! UGAH! OH GOOOD!" She moaned aloud in time with each new wave from her orgasm. He helped her ride out her orgasm, his thrusts speeding up, chasing for his own climax. Her body relaxed, and she slumped onto him. Her orgasm was harder than she expected, and her eyes were dazed. His arms wrapped around her lower back as his hips continued to thrust his cock up into her well-spent pussy.

"YES! YES! GOD YES! AH!! AHH!! I'M GONNA CUM~!! OH GOD!! LORD DOUMA!! PLEASE!! UAHH!" She cried out in pleasure as her other hand unconsciously came up to groop her breast. His cock twitched from her moans, the thick vein in his cock pulsed harder than expected and his head threw back from the feeling.

Her walls grew tighter, hotter, wetter, and her G spot flexed against the tip of his cock, his thrusting becoming urgent as he knew her climax was coming. Her moans got caught within her throat, and her walls grew tight for a moment, his cock fluttered and the thick vein on his cock pulsed quickly from the feeling.

The loose feeling of her relaxed walls made him groan, his cock twitch, his balls tightened and his world turned white. The feeling of his cock pulsing and twitching against her gummy ridges helped stimulate his orgasm. "NNNUGH! HA! HA! HAAA!" Came his breathy groans in time with his release, his hips doing small weak thrusts, His arms tightened around her, making her groan as it felt like his arms were going to sever her spinal cord, but they slowly loosened as his orgasm came to an end. His legs relaxed against the zabuton.

The room was silent as they both rested in their afterglow. She sighed as she felt his nails gently dragging up and down her back mindlessly. She moved her head, her chin resting on his chest as she looked up at him. "You up for round two?" She asked, a smirk on her face. He looked down at her and he smirked in return. "You still wish to show me your devotion?" He asked. She chuckled in return. "I feel that showing my devotion once isn't good enough." she said in a teasing voice. He gave an empty smile at her words. "Very well then, show me your devotion~." He said, mirth in his eyes.

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ciphykiss · 1 year

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incubus >

blade x f!reader; nsfw, mdni somnophilia (does it count if its in a dream idk), slight dubcon, light “claiming” elements

You’re going to resign tomorrow.

This is what you tell yourself when the siren of your cell blares Jingyuan’s ringtone at 3 AM on a weekend, a mere two hours following your last shift at the general’s personal slammer (you’d applied for an administrative assistant position, dammit; you were supposed to be serving the slick bastard tea and going on lotus cake runs, not wiping prisoner spit off your cheek). In the beginning, you’d attempted to balm the degrading lifestyle with girthy checks, cruising into salons like clockwork every Friday with your hair up and eyes cucumber’d, lovely Foxian ladies attending to your nails and worn muscle (you’d try to ignore their comments about how you’d aged fifty years in half of one but just end up crying), flirted with the latest designer dresses, and found yourself zombie-clicking add to cart whenever you were on the verge of your bi-weekly meltdown.

No amount of flashy makeup, a piled vanity, and three grand miniskirts are convincing enough for Tingyun, however, and the Foxian would only glance over in pity as you threw yourself at your weekend prize in attempts to forget whatever near-death experience you’d suffered from grooming Jingyuan’s latest charge before their trial.

Your holidays always ended in one of two ways: the ambassador consoling you by observing her nails while you threw your guts up on a clubside of the red light district, remarking on how you should’ve just worked under Yukong like she’d told you to (it wasn’t your fault you’d been seduced by the sleeping general enough to delude yourself into thinking you’d had a shot at a postgraduate office romance), victim to you screeching obscenities of “that bastard” while vomiting a day’s meals (five shots of espresso, a chicken wing, and offbrand Lexapro). Then, you’d spy grime under your nails from previous altercation and wail louder, because you were wasting your prime in fucking prison cells.

It was either that, or being rudely interrupted at approximately five-thirty the next day (a holiday, mind you) to a string of texts that had bypassed warnings of “do not disturb” in favor of bitching about how a true friend wouldn’t let you sleep with a negative four. The true miracle was you not ending up on Tingyun’s blocklist (she’d added you indefinitely once until you’d bombarded the Sky-Faring Commissions with love letters begging their amicassador for “one more chance pls :’(( </3”).

“Why don’t you just quit,” Tingyun had asked on an average Sunday afternoon while stirring her margarita; the Foxian looked a picture-perfect beauty next to your rat-haired, hoodie-clad figure, makeup from last night melting off your face.

You’d ceased licking hollandaise sauce off your upper lip to stare at her. And instead of arguing about how you’d likely never procure a salary as high as your current one (nothing was worth the cost of your youth and beauty), or how Jingyuan could, quite literally, ruin every one of your future job prospects if he deemed you necessary (you’d find a way to murder him; hell hath no fury like a woman scorned), you could only muster a single thought.

“Tingyun, you’re a genius.”

The paperwork (because he is the bastard, Jingyuan had purposefully orchestrated his resignation process to be thrice as lengthy as the average Luofunian businesses, complete with word-limit essays detailing the exact reason for departure and a five-year timeline on future posts) is stashed under a vase on your nightstand; you make a mental note to litter expletives along the margins to finalize the word count. With the shit he’d just pulled, the general would be in no position to even raise a brow.

“Where’s the newbie,” you grit, slamming your receiver and thumb print over the holographic lock of the Cloud Knight’s maximum security cells. Your companion, a Vidyadhara accountant-turned-night watch guard (because Jingyuan’s ever-growing penchant for tossing civil servants into the line of criminal apprehension remained steadfast even before your recruitment), sweats nervously, shifting from one foot to the other.

“Miss [Name],” Danyin stresses, wincing at the sight of weeks-old inmates clawing at his fabrics for scraps of food, money, and flesh; you ignore him, walking onwards with an air of pissed-offery not even the most seasoned of inmates would dare inflame; your hair hangs behind you, perfumed and damp from its midnight shower, face void of the traditional rouged eyes and thick liner you’d adopted since entering Jingyuan’s court. “If I may speak—”

“You may not.”

“—the general was adamant you meet with him first before apprehension of our newest inmate. He seems… quite ruffled.”

“As he should be, because the next time I see him, I’ll rip him a ne—”

“It is evident that this criminal is naught like the others, [Name], and this is the first time we’ve had to quarter anyone in Cloudford’s maximum security ce—”

You whirl around to face Danyin, eyes ablaze. The guard withers under the brunt of your glower.

“I will see to it my duties are performed,” you say evenly, “and then, I will clock out, return to bed, and enjoy the rest of my weekend with my cell muted. You can let that scoundrel know I will be unavailable for the next 48 hours.”

And with that, you jerk the handlebar of the deepest cell in Jingyuan’s fort shut, your last sight that of Danyin with his mouth hanging open.

The maximum security cells of Jingyuan’s prison are surprisingly less unkempt than the bustle of the commons; it is dark and smells distinctly of a new, unused apartment complex. There are neither guards nor cellkeepers, no windows to speak of; only a dark, winding hallway leading to your destination.

It’s the first time you’d been allotted clearance; originally, you’d presumed the general lacked faith in both your combat abilities and the unwavering loyalty shared by his retinue (both are correct), but now, you realize it’s simply due to a lack of occupants.

(And rightfully so, because you’re having a terrible time imagining what dangers would have Jingyuan paranoid.)

You stop in front of a glass cell; it is tempered, element, bullet, sound, and magic proof; you glance down at your wristwatch and realize it has lost its signal. A neon red “O” flashes on top of the door.

Hesitantly (because despite your lack of sleep and the fact that you’re moving on sole hatred), you touch the glass, peering into the darkness for any sign of movement (any sign of life).

There are none.

Chewing your bottom lip, you decide to adopt the usual “fuck it” mentality you’d been ailed with after more than a few double-digit near death encounters in these halls and press the pads of your fingers over the lock.

It churns, once, twice, thrice, before responding in a robotic monotone; “high-risk individual detected; please exercise caution.”

“Yeah, yeah,” you wave your hand. “Just get it over with.”

A pause. “Searching database; clearance confirmed. Please confirm entry command.”

You click your tongue. “I do.”

A soft, buzzing sound. “High-risk individual detected; please reaffirm entry command.”

“Oh, for fuck’s sake, yes!”

The algorithm grows silent. The cogs behind the seemingly innocuous doorway bluster for at least ten seconds, winding open in a rigid, clumsy gait.

Inside, it is darker still. It smells of the preserved glaze used all over the Luofu to seal unused buildings, and a hint of dust; metallic odors assail your nose. Your eyes adjust to the blackness, and you peer long enough to spy the end of a conversation table.

“...uh, hello?”

No response. Annoyed, you search the walls for the lightswitch—your hands dart blindly until it finds the lever.

Dim, blue hues glint off the corridor, bathing the cell in an ominous, funeral-morning light. Your eyes train to the end of the table, and there he sits—still, unmoving, a mane of raven hair cascading down his back, a flesh-and-bone composition of some western Dracula. He is unlike any other inmate you’d laid eyes on before, something incorrigible, clandestine about him; it’s as if he’s frozen in the intersection of immortality and death, one foot through the door, never fully on either side. Distinctly, it reminds you of some late-stage cases of mara-struck individuals that would eventually be sent for termination (the grim fate of all Xianzhou natives).

He is as strong as he is imposing, and nearly as tall as the general himself; this, you can ascertain by the muted rise of his chest, the cling of Xianzhounian fabric over battle-hardened muscle, and knees that hit the bottom of the table.

He can kill you, you realize instantly; a part of you screams that he not only can, but will. It is a primitive fear, one you hadn’t thought you’d face in the closely-guarded Luofu ship, especially under the watchful eye of the Cloud Knight’s general; it’s enough for you to stop breathing, and render you frozen in your tracks.

You force yourself to exhale, dragging the chair on your end of the table back to situate yourself.

“Good evening,” you manage to utter, cringing at how it comes out a half-squeak; you bite your tongue, willing yourself to harden. A killer this man might’ve been (a professional one, if your screaming gut instinct had anything to say), you didn’t power through half a decade of amicassador training and Jingyuan’s bullshit to flail at the sight of a wanted criminal. “I’m [Name], associate-assistant of General Jingyuan of the Cloud Knights, acting director-in-command of Cloudford’s maximum security center; my duties include, but are not limited to, prerequisite questioning of inmates following admission, collection of bio-data, and basic care of inmates that are unable to groom oneself.” You spy the etherous shackles bound at the wrists of his gauze-covered hands. “Do you consent to the precursory collection of bio-data?”

No response. Not even the slightest tilt of a head, not a single hair moving out of place. A little paler, and you’d presume him dead. You chew the inside of your mouth.

“Would you be willing to provide your legal name? Planet of origin? Species?” Each question is followed by another inch of silence, widening the sea between you and the stranger; though you’re simply following protocol, you can’t help but shiver at the thought of offending Jingyuan’s newest specimen. “...that will conclude logistics. As per duty, and due to current physical restrictions, I am, by law, required to provide basic grooming; this will include a wipe-down of the face. You may vocalize any additional requests; if deemed appropriate by the Cloud Knight Codex, I will comply.”

Silence.

You decide you’d rather the world swallow you back into its womb and spit you back out so you might choose another path in life. Anything to prevent the development of that stupid crush on the scoundrel-general that had left you moon-eyed enough to brush off Tingyun’s recommendation of bannering under Yukong’s Sky-Faring Commission, where you’d entertain foreign investors and tryst with exotic artists instead of dancing with the stink of death every workday.

“...I’m going to touch you now,” you murmur, the scrape of your chair filling the cell. “Please excuse me.”

It’s like diving head-first into a guillotine; every live-wire nerve in you is shrilling for you to run, dignity and Jingyuan and the peace of the Luofu be damned. Leave the goddamn cell door open if you had to; anything to save your own skin. You don’t, of course; instead, you waver in front of the man, still a sitting statue, and tear open the sterile clothpack you’d pocketed.

Slowly, you kneel—and suddenly, you’re having to look up at him, all harsh lines and dark hair, and you thank the Aeons he’s blindfolded and you can’t see his eyes, because you know you wouldn’t have been able to perform any duty under the brunt of a killer’s stare.

He smells of incense and the bloodied scabbard of a sword. Specifically, the woodsmoke used in funerals. Hesitantly, you press the damp end of the satin to the stranger’s cheek.

The result is instantaneous, and you would’ve missed it had you hadn’t been seasoned by years of dealing with the most insidious of criminals; his mouth twitches, his nostrils flare; the actions are subtle, not at all assuming to the naked eye, and would, when performed by any other inmate, be brushed off as involuntary fidgeting;

But not this man, not death himself.

You nearly drop the cloth in alarm. But you don’t, and you try to look anywhere but him (because looking at him hurts as much as it would staring into the core of a non-artificial sun), climbing over the bridge of his nose, the flesh of his lips, the dip of his brows and the cuts of his hard, narrow jaw.

He is handsome.

The thought is both funny and terrifying; it helps you function, albeit more normally, though a part of you knows you shouldn’t find a national security threat anything more than appalling.

“Done,” you murmur, pulling back until you’re no longer drunk on the scent of orientals and woodsmoke. You pause, affirming just how pretty he is up close—a word you’d seldom use to describe men, and though he is absurdly handsome, there’s something flowery about the drape of his hair over his shoulder (another sign of danger, you now realize, as Xianzhounian warriors only cut their hair after defeat), the fullness of his mouth; like a carnivorous, night-flowering jasmine, you muse, blooming a scent so elusive it would only attract the most macabre of victims into its maw.

Aeons, the wanted criminal had you waxing poetry. Had your perpetual sleep deprivation toed its way to insanity?

“...do you require any further assistance?”

It shouldn’t shock you, it really shouldn’t; and yet, his response has the same effect as being struck with a killing blow from the general’s lightning lord itself;

“No,” he rasps, and the sound shoots right down to your core.

Fuck. Maybe you should’ve convinced your Foxian friend to take that old geezer up on his threeway offer last weekend, because it had clearly been too long since you’d gotten laid. For a wanted criminal you’d just laid eyes on to have such—

No. There’s no way. You make a mental note to ask Tingyun what self-care devices are trending and hide the pang in your nether regions with a shuffle of your thighs.

“Alright,” you squeak, scrambling to your feet—and protocol be damned, because there’s nothing in this godforsaken intergalactic universe that can stop you from crawl-dashing out the door as fast as your stupid work heels will carry you.

You need an intervention (an orgasm). Stat.

ꨄ︎

The Jingyuan that haunts you at dusk is as capable as the one you loathe during the day, thrice as inflamed, and so deliciously pliant. Your vision is obscured in the pewter-gray of his mane, teeth scraping the naked flesh of your shoulder, wet and warm and hard.

You dig your nails into the roots of his hair, as always, and yank. In response, he lets out a muffled groan—you imagine the sound reverberates under your skin like ripples along a lake, and feel his (your) hands dip below the hem of your dress. He would be careful, you think—considerate, despite his bastardry, barely bruising, just harsh enough to leave you wanting, just how you like it (or so you think).

“I hate you,” you gasp, to no one; Jingyuan chuckles, lips soft over the juncture of your throat.

“Me?”

“You,” you moan, the rake of your nails along his back coaxing him into littering a thousand kisses over your neck. “I hate you, I hate you—you and your stupid hair and lackadaisical, know-it-all attitude, and—fuck, I deserve a raise!”

“You don’t sound as though you hate me,” he hums. “In fact, you sound… rather pleased.”

Of course the Jingyuan in your hallucinogen-inspired wet dream is as cocky as the one in flesh; you scowl, landing a good one across his left cheek. He laughs, then, which spurs you to lock your legs around his hips and push him into the plush of the many pillows of your dreamscape.

“Shut up,” you order, “and put that mouth of yours to use for once.”

He doesn’t need any further instigation; dream-Jingyuan (somehow just as insufferable, despite being the byproduct of YOUR imagination) grabs you by the thighs and splits you open like his last meal. You gasp, hips moving of their own accord—reality blurs with the walls of your dreamworld, your own fingers replaced with the general’s calloused ones, and you sway to build the peak of your climax to your heart’s desire, lips coaxed open by his tongue, clit brushing against the bridge of his nose.

It’s all too much, really; you don’t remember the last time you’d had a dream so vivid, despite having remedied your insomnia quite often with visions of taming the sleeping general. There’s a strange sense of liminality; the thick fog separates to make way for cracks that closely resemble your bedroom wall, silk sheets fading into the strewn blankets you’d received as a New Year’s gift.

And then, Jingyuan does something completely unscripted—he slides you off his face, throws your leg over his hip, and grinds into your core.

You let out a whimper, something small in the back of your mind screaming that this isn’t normal—that a fabrication shouldn’t be chasing after his own pleasure, that the teeth along your neck feel harsher, more volatile;

But you can’t be bothered to care, whining for more—because suddenly, his mouth isn’t enough, and you need him, you need to be filled—had your vision been less blurry, and had you been even a smidgen less wanton, you wouldn’t noticed the shock of white hair fade into ink, the bare chest replace itself with dark fabric, and the fog of your dreamscape turn to overhead skies and a bed crowned in a million spider lilies.

And then,

“Jingyuan?” The forbidden, familiar baritone husks into your ear, and Aeons, you’d never crumbled faster—your eyes split open, still hazy, glittering with unshed tears—of frustration, of want, of hatred, everything in between and more, and you feel yourself getting even wetter. “Of all men, him?”

“What’re ‘ou doing here?” You babble, incoherent; your arms are still wrapped around his neck, and slowly, the inmate you’d been acquainted with mere hours before rises, shrouding your world in a curtain of black hair.

He smells the same—incense and blood and rain. Great. Now you’re hallucinating scents.

“That won’t do,” he says, lowering his face; the fabric of his blindfold touches your forehead, and you’re not sure why, but the fact that you can’t truly see him is even more erotic than any fantasy you’d ever conjured up before.

“You shouldn’t be here,” you mumble, the last shreds of decency slipping away to the cloudsmoke of his perfume and the flush of his hardened body against yours. “This isn’t—mmm!”

His mouth is on yours, and it is nothing like any mirage store-bought fantasia can conjure up; he is nothing like the men you pick up at clubs, nothing like the teasing Jingyuan in your dreams. He is taking you, commanding your lips to part to make way for him; his tongue searches yours, feverish and so ravaging that it should have you fleeing the planet.

Then, he moves, and you feel the brush of something hard against your mound, near corporeal; the threads of rationality snap, and you’re arching, using your hooked leg as leverage to melt into the dream-criminal’s body, because now, a dream isn’t enough—you want to feel him, warmth and muscle and the cage of his arms, and become one; a mouth isn’t enough. Suddenly, nothing is enough.

He pulls away to latch onto your neck, and you cry at the loss.

“No,” you wail, hooking your remaining leg over his waist. Slender, moreso than Jingyuan’s. “Kiss me more—gimme more—I need—”

“Take it yourself,” he says, working on the welts now littering your collarbone in what an absurd part of you assumes is an attempt to replace any remnants of the dream-general. “Do you really think yourself deserving?”

Tears brim at the corners of your eyes. “So—so mean,”

You lay there for a minute more, frustrated and so stupidly wet, aching for his touch while he seems content to deliver his punishments in the form of mouthing along every inch of your throat and breasts.

“You demon,” you accuse, fisting his shirtsleeve pathetically. Your lips twitch into a frown when he continues to ignore you.

Take it yourself, huh?

And then, because it’s a dream and you would rather die than be left unsatisfied in your own un-reality, you grab the stranger by the face, part your lips open, and finish what he so rudely began.

A part of you expects a nightmarish turn—one where he lashes out to skewer your gut, or worse; instead, he indulges you, fingers steadying your hips as they attempt to grind into a rhythm.

“You’re in my dream, aren’t you?” You whisper, scattering pecks along his cheek—he is, after all, so pretty, too pretty not to dote on. “Take responsibility. Jingyuan would.”

It’s like smelting a firecracker; his mouth bends into an almost-scowl, and the grip on your hips turns bruising.

Bandaged fingers curl into your heat, building atop an existing pressure—your reaction is visceral. A gasp, then an involuntary swivel of your spine with the heels of your feet digging into the bed; and just as you think he’s going to build a staccato, his ministrations halt.

It’s devastating, and it has you wailing into the crook of his pale, unforgiving, not-quite-embrace; frustrated, you knock your fists against his chest. If it were reality, it would hurt you more than it hurt him.

“You bastard.”

“I could ruin you,” he haunts, an echo in your ear. “I could make it burn. You would dream of me in the waking world, cry for me in the dreaming. A slave to passion, day and night; hardly sleeping, hardly eating, merely breathing, finding relief only when I move inside you.”

His lips graze over your own.

“But I won’t.”

It’s a strange, humiliating experience, coming undone from a mere kiss; your heat throbs, neglected, still sobbing to be touched, be soothed, put at rest; but the way he holds you can be mistaken as loving, and the curl of his mouth against yours is almost kind; it’s like grasping at the shadow of a man that never existed.

And then, you wake up.

Your walls are sepia and no longer skies, there are no lilies at your feet. Your cheeks are tear-stained, and there’s a hand under your skirt, the other cupping your breast in poor mimicry of your dream demon.

Something red catches the mirror on your nightstand.

There, splintered across the previously unmarred expanse of your throat, lies a canopy of bruise-colored kisses.

#blade x reader #honkai star rail x you #hsr x reader #hsr x you #blade hsr #honkai star rail smut #blade smut #part of a series but im too lazy to format parts rn

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suicide-with-dazai · 6 months

Text

"Diluc fluff scenarios"

tw: none !

tags: diluc x reader , esablished relashionship , 100% fluff <3

contrary to popular belief , dilucs heart isnt all that cold . sure , he lives for battle and revenge and the succession of his own industry, however , only you are aware that diluc has a soft side , a warm side . a side that climbs into bed next to your sleeping frame; whispering sweet nothings into your ears as he strokes your hair .

he may seem like a dangerous man to some - but you know hes far from it !

"luc...im cold..." you shiver as you toss and turn in bed , the window is shut but the freezing air attacks mondstadt like a vicious hound , biting at your fingertips and turning your lips blue .

"come, sweet girl~" he whispers deeply and softly as he wraps his toned arms around your body , kissing your forehead and making your heart flutter .

"i think you look really cute in that one~" he sits back on the dressing room chair , arms crossed and eyeing your figure as you try on a dress he picked out for you . a satin one , wine red ruffles hugging your waist and long panels of soft fabric flowing all the way down to the floor . you look ... perfect , you can tell by the way your boyfriend adjusts himself on the chair , trying not to stare too long .

you had been walking for about half an hour , and the sun was setting , he told you that he was going to show you something beautiful . the two of you reached a peaceful looking spot , with a large tree and a pond , just on the outskirts of mondstadt .

"soo... whats the beautiful thing you were going to show me ?" you sit down by the water , confused .

diluc kneels infront of you and softly says , "look in the pond."

you oblige , expecting to see a pretty lotus or a koi , but you see nothing... apart from your reflection . the moonlit starry sky behind you illuminating the ripples as you look into your own eyes for a moment .

you almost shed a tear , as youve been feeling a little insecure lately and you throw your arms around your kneeling boyfriend , his arms already out .

"isnt she pretty~?"

you nod , sniffling and resting your head in the crook of his neck . archons , he always knows how to charm you and make you feel like a nervous teenager all over again .

diluc treats your hands like glass , like theyre made of silk and holds them like a precious artifact .

"my treasure~" he whispers while he strokes and kisses the back of your hand .

its after hours in the Angels Share , and youre sat across from diluc , who is only slightly tipsy yet completely lovestruck . he intertwines his fingers with yours and brushes his thumb over your hand .

"i.... think i have a crush on you ..." he jokingly says .

you notice him blush and squeeze your hand tighter while he giggles like a child .

sat alone at home , you decide take a nap . gods , since dilucs been away on a business trip the house just feel so ... empty . you start to settle down , having nobody to cuddle you from behind .

but suddenly , you hear something slip through the letterbox . with a sigh you walk over to retrieve it .

'To my love ,

From Diluc Ragnvindr'

the envelope reads .

you quickly rush back to bed to open it :

'My baby , you have no idea how much i miss you , how lost i am without you , and how cold these nights get without someone to hold .

I hope youre okay , and coping well . Ill be back in a week , i promise , and ill give you the biggest kiss and cuddle youve ever had . Im eager to return to you , however this business trip could be a life changer for us - just know that i really love you , and i miss you darling .

- Luc ♡'

your eyes prick as you fold the letter back up , holding it in your arms as you drift off to sleep.

reblogs welcome <3 check out my pinned post i worked really hard on it :')

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bestepisode · 2 months

Text

Venom of the Red Lotus

The Red Lotus tortures a chained Korra by poisoning her with mercury, in order to force her to the point of death, triggering the Avatar State before they kill her, which would end the cycle of the Avatar's rebirth. However, a wrathful Korra overpowers her captors and fights Zaheer in the skies. Meanwhile, her friends find and rescue the airbenders. After Mako electrocutes Ming-Hua, he and Bolin narrowly escape Ghazan's collapsing the Red Lotus's lair on top of himself. As Korra is about to succumb to the poison, Jinora leads the airbenders to pull Zaheer out of the sky with a massive air vortex formed from their combined bending. Zaheer is captured, and Suyin metalbends the poison out of Korra. Two weeks later, in Republic City, a weakened, wheelchair-bound Korra watches as Tenzin anoints Jinora as an airbending master and rededicates the Air Nomads to a nomadic life of service to the world, following Korra's example.

Korra Alone

Over the past three years, a despondent Korra has been slowly recovering her health with the aid of physical therapy and healing administered by Katara at the South Pole, following her torture and poisoning at the hands of the Red Lotus. However, the effects of the assault and the other suffering and losses that she has faced has left her psychologically traumatized, and haunted by doubts that she will ever be the same again, and she has not been into the Avatar State since the assault. Tricking her family and friends into believing she has returned to Republic City, she is in fact wandering aimlessly throughout the world, isolating herself as much as possible from human contact. She is haunted by a dark vision of herself as she appeared in the fight with Zaheer, which appears to watch her wherever she goes. A spirit leads her into the banyan swamps which previously featured in Avatar: The Last Airbender, where her doppelganger apparition chases her down and attacks her, and she suffers a hallucination of drowning, but regains consciousness in the abode of Toph Beifong.

#the legend of korra #tlok #tlok best episode #venom of the red lotus #korra alone #the red lotus #zaheer #toph beifong

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badmusejail · 1 year

Text

the muses as kids in school

(modern earth setting)

group 1:

Gemuse. Shy kid; keeps mostly to himself with maybe one or two friends. Can be energetic or reclusive depending on the situation.

Quentin. Resident cowardly bully, picking on people verbally because he’s too afraid of getting his ass kicked. Thinks he’s the smartest. Regularly picks on Gaster, taking advantage of his general inability to speak and usually calling him derogatory names like “flathead.”

Gaster. Actually the smartest. He was a sweet if reclusive kid, at least until the accident that killed his parents and left him scarred and mostly mute. Now, he’s just trying to get through each day; avoiding people like Quentin.

Ozai. Bold and arrogant, but because of his youth comes off as more cute than annoying. He’s noble but aloof; unlikely to intervene in anything that doesn’t directly involve him. Already kicked Quentin’s ass for insulting his hair.

group 2:

Giovanni. Much like Ozai, his lofty ideals and words tend to be more adorable than annoying. He’s a good kid, albeit a bit opinionated.

Surge. The Cool Kid ™️. With a rebellious streak and confidence to match, a lot of kids gather around him. But he’s still a decent guy; just tends to ignore those not in his circle.

Oak. Friendly and outgoing, the star pupil, who coincidentally has a lot of friends that want help with or to copy homework. He’s mostly loved by kids and teachers alike, though there are some who envy his intelligence (specifically the fact he shows it off so much.)

Iroh. Very similar to Ozai, actually, although a bit less likely to resort to violence. (He will, though.) He still has a nobility / arrogance to him, but it’s mostly hidden behind his friendly demeanor.

#|| OOC | out of character.#|| SHARED | HEADCANON | modern.#|| GEMUSE | the ketchup spy.#|| GEMUSE | HEADCANON | red eyes take warning.#|| MYSTERIO | smoke and mirrors.#|| MYSTERIO | HEADCANON | a world in rose tinted lenses.#|| GASTER | chorus of nothing.#|| GASTER | HEADCANON | can a fragment be a whole?#|| GIOVANNI | the bad boss.#|| GIOVANNI | HEADCANON | stubborn as the earth with goals as lofty as the sky.#|| SURGE | HEADCANON | the lightning lieutenant.#|| SURGE | electric!#|| OAK | the scheming scientist.#|| OAK | HEADCANON | silver fox silver knife.#|| IROH | kindhearted firebender.#|| IROH | HEADCANON | proud white lotus.

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neverchecking · 10 months

Note

Hi I am 🪷 Aron from couldninetonine

And I have a request for you if it ok.

Can I request yandere platonic sage , sky, time, warrior, four x child zoni reader.

Like the reader is rauru and queen Soni little baby half breed daughter. Half elf and half zoni. And they found her in her little bubble pod that a flower a lotus. And how they fell for her big doe eyes and big ears. And teaching her the ways and have her call them papa's and how they keep her safe. Please and thank you

omg hi! I love cloudninetonine! It is totally okay to request!

I haven't done a lot of platonic yandere, but this seems fun!

Imagine them calling the boys their papa bc her real dad is dead lmao-

・❥・@lovanmari and @wayfayrr I got some DILF Sage for yall

・❥・Sage as a dad. First off-- who in their right mind is trusting him with a kid?

・❥・Nah, I kid, I kid. When he's given a child, one so small and innocent and one that he connects with? It burns something within him.

・❥・He was a child soldier (I think canonically BOTW Link was in the army by age twelve?), and when he sees this small child who's relying on him? He swears they'd have a better life than he ever had.

・❥・He absolutely refuses to let his child anywhere near anything sharp, too hot, too cold, explosive, etc.. If there's any chance at injury, his flower bud isn't going anywhere near it.

・❥・You know that his kid is eating like royalty. Every single day. Breakfast, lunch and dinner. And dessert. And you know that dessert is the best damned thing in the world.

・❥・Sage as a dad is probably just as unhinged, but in more protective way? Lynel look in their direction? Here kid, look at this butterfly, Papa will be right back- He's back within three minutes tops and look! He's got the fur for a new blanket for you!

・❥・Cece tries pinching your cheeks? He's glaring down at her, daring her to try.

・❥・Someone tries offering you a treat because your just so adorable? He knows his kid is cute, nice try. Nothing is getting past him. He's a bit of a helicopter parent.

・❥・Not a bit. It's a lot.

・❥・He loves playing with your big ears, ones that you'll grow into, flopping them about even as you get red-cheeked and angry at him.

・❥・He'll make it up to you eventually :)

・❥・He also spoils you absolutely rotten. He has his rules, yes, and expects you to follow them, but his rewards are things like trips to the Zora Domain or a sand seal ride in Gerudo. Never Eldin. Are you kidding that's an active volcano site?!?!

・❥・The sages are one-thousand percent your personal body guards. You don't go anywhere without your dad and at least one sage.

・❥・Sky is absolutely smitten from the start.

・❥・You look at this man and tell me he's not dad shaped. You can't.

・❥・He doesn't even care to learn what a Zonai is. All he knows is there are none here and your all alone and your his now. He doesn't make the rules

・❥・He is also another protective dad, but he's a little more willing to let you experience the world around you. You wanna see those flowers over there? He's following! You wanna go for a dip in the river? Great idea, he's helping you! You can go explore, but never alone.

・❥・He absolutely introduces you to Crimson right away. Crimson is the perfect co-parent guardian. Crimson is always pulling you into her side, ruffling her feathers and grooming you.

・❥・Like you become Sky's kid and Crimson's chick. They are two halves of a whole soul so it makes sense.

・❥・HFHFDOFDHN imagine sleeping on Crimson's back while Sky leads the two of you through a forest or sum ;^;

・❥・Or soaring through the sky with you pointing at every cloud you pass and Sky harnessing you to his chest while Crimson flies much slower than normal.

・❥・Sky can cook basic things, but he definitely spends more time with village moms and elders learning more.

・❥・He for sure carves toys for you out of wood. Like trains or maybe a doll of Crimson.

・❥・You get the fluffiest blankets stuffed with Loftwing feathers

・❥・Groose is such a good uncle-sidebar. Even if Sky isn't...jazzed about letting you out of his sight, he will trust Groose. For an hour.

・❥・Which he is within earshot of for fifty seven minutes.

・❥・He's kind of torn between letting you be with Zelda-- who adores you-- and not. she's the reincarnate of Hylia. What if you get dragging into the wretched reincarnation curse as well?

・❥・He wouldn't wish it on his worst enemy let alone his fletchling.

・❥・Fi for sure has a beacon on you at all times.

・❥・He's more...withdrawn when it comes to first meeting you

・❥・Afterall he's in a war.

・❥・but...so are you. And you are so much younger than he is.

・❥・and what self-respecting parent would let their child wander so far? None that deserve their child.

・❥・So you become his. He doesn't do take backsies.

・❥・When you stutter out that your old, irrelevant, unworthy father was a Zonai, he does take that with some caution.

・❥・But no one even knows what a Zonai is. Ravio has a general idea-- a race blessed by the gods-- but thats as far as he gets.

・❥・That's okay. You were his now and he didn't care what you were. You were perfect just the way you are <3

・❥・Wars as a dad is probably pretty strict. But he lets you out of his sight more than the previous two.

・❥・You get schooled and have friends, but are expected home right away.

・❥・He doesn't like your friends. Not a chance. But because he's such a public figure he needs to give you a semi normal life.

・❥・Which means those dumb friends and parent interventions and schooling and hours away when you could be spending time with him!?

・❥・He probably sneaks you out of school often to go for treats at a bakery or a swim in a river. What are they gonna do, tell the Hero no?!

・❥・Artemis loves you. He trusts her with you while he's dragged away for things he cannot control. She has the power of Sheik on her side and proved her worth to him in battle.

・❥・You definitely have a fairy on you at all times which reports back to him.

・❥・Fours is so fun for one reason and one reason alone.

・❥・the minish.

・❥・They probably are the ones to alert him about your presence, giving their small knowledge of the Zonai race.

・❥・They chirp and chitter at him until he brings you back to the home he shares with his grandpa (Uncle? It's one of the two). The older male was out at the moment leaving Four to figure out what he's going to do with you.

・❥・Obviously he keeps you. No one else can handle such a task! You're so delicate and so rare and the minish already love you.

・❥・So your his. no ifs ands or buts.

・❥・The forge? Off Limits.

・❥・It's too hot with too many sharp pointy things and open flames and its dirty.

・❥・Not for his kid.

・❥・When it comes to cooking, he can do it, but like sky, he's not overly good.

・❥・but! You guys can learn together. Under his strict supervision. Where you sit at the counter. Away from the fires and knives. It's a bonding experience.

・❥・Back to the minish, they love you. They love playing with you and calling your attention away while your dad deals with someone whose watching you a little too closely.

・❥・They leave small trinkets for you all the time! Which four keeps in a box. Because you could choke.

・❥・He's also another one to make your toys! Little metal horses and wooden doll houses.

・❥・If he needs to run out for a few errands or something, he's not leaving you with anyone. Oh no not his kid. No, he's splitting. Two stay with you, three depending on the errand, while the other runs out.

・❥・You aren't allowed the Four sword. Ever.

・❥・He would never wish that upon you. Even if you love the colors and it helps you differentiate between green and red and blue and Violet.

・❥・Thats probably how you learn some of your colors in fact.

・❥・Even as you grow up, you cannot get away with anything. The minish are snitches and it would do you good to learn that. And fast.

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kth1fics · 11 months

Text

Safe Haven (M) | PJM (Teaser)

Safe Haven

⟶ Pairing: Park Jimin x Female Reader ⟶ Genre: royalty, smut, 18+ ⟶ Tropes: forbidden love au, medieval royal au, royal king’s guard werewolf!jimin, etc ⟶ Teaser WC: 1k+ ⟶ Warnings: mild birth scene mention (hardly any details!), mentions of d*ath, brief fighting/attacking descriptions, blood, hair pulling (when attacked), weapons mentioned, poison/venom mention, random side character d*aths, soft pining, (smut warnings will be added in the official post!) ⟶ Summary: When a wolf protects the royal family for many years, he’s faced with one special princess who he’ll do anything for. ⟶ Author's Note: This is a teaser for my upcoming fic which is apart of the “To Love a Monster” collab! Teaser is currently un-beta'd! If you would like to be added to the taglist, please leave your url in the comments! (assumingly you allow tagging of your blog!) & Also feel free to tell me what you think in my asks (link right below!)

Masterlist ◈ Mail Box ◈ AO3 ◈ Ko-Fi

White flurries fall slowly from the gray clouds above, decorating the large courtyard you spy down on in a sheet of fresh snow. Most of the garden that blooms the most gorgeous flowers is now a mess of dead plants and weeds.

The bare trees stand firm. But for those who stand strong in the winter months like hollies with red berries and camellias, continue to stand out next to the beauty of sheared evergreens and deciduous shrubs with colorful stems.

Your eyes are not trained on admiring the bright snow that cascades from the sky so beautifully. Normally you do. As you sit by your glass window with a blanket around your shoulders, you look down from your chambers on the third level of the castle to fancy something different.

Men – some of the royal guards – play around with one another in the cold weather. Some have shifted, others remain in their noble suits. The one you fixate your stare on is your personal guard, Jimin.

He stands leaning against the stone staircase besides a few of his equals. Chatting away about who knows what, watching the others roughhouse with another. Jimin is quite handsome, he always has been. For as long as you remember he’s looked the same, minus the fluctuation of hair styles and added tattoos that linger his body. A few battle scars to add.

As a guard he wears your family's sigil proudly – a lotus flower – on each of his articles of clothing. Customized into each of the guards’ crested plates of metal armor and sewn into each leather hide.

Jimin possesses the unfair mix of unlimited masculine and feminine traits, having a soft-looking composure and full lips plus a sharp jawline and toned muscles. His voice is nearly angelic when speaking in hushed tones but also stern as ever when he leads with his strong confidence. He may not be as large as his fellow wolves, but he’s proven himself countless times to your family to have the privilege to be your personal guard. There’s nobody quite like him; no one you’ve met in your life that is.

You commend him in silence, appreciating what you can watch from afar. Even from a distance behind a glass window, he somehow manages to make your heart race. An infatuation some may call it. A yearning. He and your family have been consistent in your life, he’s comfort – as are they. But you knew from a young age, from when you began favoring Jimin’s company over others, that you need to call it ‘nothing’. Because whatever feelings that spin deep inside you are never to be spoken aloud. It’s foolish for your Kingdom, family, and you to long for a wolf who doesn’t see you as anything but a duty.

What’s more disappointing is that you don’t need to admit these infuriating feelings to Jimin, he already knows. He would never allow it to get far by cutting you short and being curt with clipped words and disapproving looks.

He is a wolf and you are a royal. Two beings who have no business intertwining besides with loyalty to the family and the job of a guard. Your acquaintanceship between another is only going to be professional. Perhaps it’s to keep the bloodline pure, untainted. How every sibling of the family is betrothed to a neighboring kingdom, growing the alliance across countries. And not one of them has a blend of wolf’s blood in them. Even though werewolves are evident in the world around you.

“Aren’t you supposed to get ready for the party tonight?” A maid who's making your bed quips up as you're daydreaming down into the evergreen.

“I’ve been stuck on deciding which dress I should wear.”

“No, you’ve been stuck staring out into the courtyard,” she corrects.

You slump in your seat as you stubbornly hold your position by the window. When you look back down, you admire the off-brown and black tones of that particular wolf you fancy. She isn’t wrong, you know. His kind eyes and kind smiles make you feel warmth like no other, and you enjoy seeing them when you gain the chance.

“I can multitask,” you feebly argue. You drag the blanket tighter around your shoulders, keeping in the warmth of your body as much as possible. “Besides, the party isn’t until a few more hours.”

“Princess, you already have guests arriving. Half the guard is at the entrance welcoming the parties who show up early. Let’s not begin to mention how several potential suitors are arriving today. You’ve failed to marry even when betrothed. Such a shame what happened with the Jeon family.”

“I prefer not to be a royal. It doesn’t feel right the way we work,” you sigh as the joyful wolves down below have fun while you’re stuck in your tower with envy. “Can we braid my hair like that one time at my Aunt’s wedding? It cascaded down beautifully.” You speak while staring out of the window, purposely ignoring the heavier topic your maid mentions. “I’ll go with the silver dress. That one comes with the gorgeous fur shawl.”

You notice the way that Jimin has suddenly turned to look up toward your window, half expecting to see you through the glass. Even in the midst of his comrades, he finds a way to give you an ounce of attention. He shakes his head momentarily, already scolding you without knowing what you’re supposed to be doing. Jimin knows looking for him isn’t on your agenda, you purposely put him there.

“For me to do that,” – you hear the voice of your maid – “I need you to get out of your chair and into your washroom.”

A small frown carves into your face when Jimin circles his finger in the air and directs you to turn around, go back to your business. He knows he’s escorting you tonight at the party, you will see him later. To make his point come across sternly, he disassociates his eye contact – bringing his attention back to his other peers and away from you.

“Princess,” your maid bids you once again.

Reluctant to leave your post at the window, you stand up regardless. You have a long night ahead of you while the castle starts to fill up with guests for your younger brother’s birthday party.

⟶ Estimated Posting Date : June 2023

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