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eilidh-eternal · 4 months

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Nasty Man™️ Johnny MacTavish would cross every line and break every rule of a lap dance.

He'd see you from across the club and is already plotting ways to get you alone in one of the private rooms so he can have his hands all over you and help you “relax” 🥴

he's a lil’ creep :)

(18+ MDNI, dub-con/non-con themes)

You can’t even remember why you’re here.

It’s loud, bass thumping in the hollow of your chest, the warmth of writhing bodies weighs heavy in the air, and flashing lights seem to follow your eyes everywhere you look without reprieve. That’s why you don’t see him, don’t notice him staring at you from across the club, and now your friends are whistling and whooping at the dark stranger climbing the steps into your alcove.

“This is the guy I told you about,” Kari leans over to whisper-shout, cupping a hand in a feeble attempt to speak over the music pouring out of the speakers overhead.

Ah, that’s right. Kari wanted to see if the dancer from the near constant stream of videos she inundates the group chat with is here tonight. Seems tonight is her lucky night, because when he steps into your circle he pivots towards the two of you, long legs rippling the slash of cut muscle and tanned skin on display beneath ripped jeans slung low on his hips, obliques bunching and flexing with the subtle tilt of his hips with each measured step. Swaggering.

And he comes to a halt—right in front of you. It’s a long way up, craning your neck at an awkward angle to look up at the silhouette of him against strobe and colorful spotlights. You don’t know what you were expecting. The black leather harness straining over his chest and distressed jeans feel fairly standard, as does his physique and rugged handsomeness, but the warmth that ripples off his body feels like a riptide instead of the languid roll of lapping waves, dragging you under and filling your lungs with the scent of sea spray and brine, the musk of his sweat mixed with whatever he’s oiled his skin with.

“Ooooo girl!” Kari grips your arm, acrylic nails scratching over your skin, and it pulls you out of your dumbfounded stupor enough for you to register the hand he’s holding out to you. “If you don’t go, I will!”

Go? With him? Where would we-

“Ye look a bit overwhelmed, lass. Think somethin’ more… private, might be your style.”

Oh…

Kari snakes her arm between your back and the tufted faux leather of the bench and bodily pushes you forward to the edge of your seat, towards his outstretched hand, and you’re caught wholly off guard when gentle fingers hook under your chin, tipping your head back at an uncomfortable angle to meet his gaze.

The brightest blue of a searing flame feels gelid in comparison to the heat that dances and flickers in his eyes, and they feel sharp as knives against your skin, boring into you, slicing through layers of trepidation and apprehension to get to the core of you.

“Promise ye wilnae regret it.” The pad of his thumb brushes across your lower lip, a slow, exploratory movement that sends a shudder trickling down your spine.

Goading shouts of ‘Go!’ and ‘Get some, girl!’ permeate the hazy bubble you’re floating in with him, echoing and bouncing off of flimsy boundaries.

“I- I don’t know… You should take Kari, she-” You’re silenced by the press of his thumb to your lips again, mouth still parted on half-spoken words, and you can feel the swipe of his flesh across the front of your teeth.

“-She’s not the one who needs help relaxin’. You are,” he finishes for you, and it sounds more like a command than an observation. The fingers under your chin tug upwards, straining the muscles of your neck, and you lift subconsciously from your seat to ease the tension. He takes advantage of this and slots a hand under your arm, pulls you up and firmly against him, and turns your head to the side to whisper low in your ear, “I’ll take good care of ye, lass. Dinnae need to worry.”

There’s a collective gasp from the group around you, excited squeals and peals of laughter that ring out over the music. ‘Go!’ they all chant in a cult-like mantra. Go to the private room with the handsome stranger.

Go to the private room where the lights don’t hurt your eyes and the music isn’t so loud.

His hand still holds your face, cups your jaw to draw your attention back to him, and the hand on your ribs has drifted down to your waist, thumb rubbing circles over the fabric of your dress.

“Ok…” you cede, voice a meek whisper and eyes darting away from his to settle on his lips, feeling too scrutinized, laid bare, under their watchfulness.

It shouldn’t be possible but his smile is somehow brighter than the flashing lights, disorienting enough that you blink a few times until the spots across your vision fade. The hand at your waist slides easily around you, tucking you into his side as he leads you away from the alcove, through throngs of patrons and dancers towards the roped off rooms at the back of the club with velvet lined walls and thick curtains across each doorway.

He guides you down onto the sofa that wraps around the entirety of the room, downy upholstery tickling the back of your legs as he draws the curtain closed, and your eyes mimic the motion with a gentle sigh as you sink into the softness that dampens the sound beyond the room, filters out the harsh light in favor dim ambiance.

Maybe he’s right. Maybe you just need to sit here for a moment away from…. Well, away from all of it. Take a moment, and just-

“Och, look at ye… just need a bit of quiet, hm?” The low purr of his voice right in front of you causes you to jolt, eyes snapping open to find him knelt down at eye level with you, arms braced against the sofa on either side of your knees.

You start to apologize but he shakes his head, one big hand sliding over your knee in a soothing gesture.

“None of that. Here to help ye relax, bonnie.” His hand drifts higher up your leg, strong fingers kneading at the supple flesh hidden beneath ruched fabric, and you think distantly that this feels more intimate than a private dance should. “Close those pretty eyes and just focus on the way it feels. Can ye do that for me?”

In the dim lighting the warmth in his eyes blazes bright and fervent with an eager insistence, an illuminating display of hunger and want that burns through your nerves like wildfire.

You take a deep, steadying breath and let your eyes fall closed once more, and the answering growl that rumbles in his chest in response to your submission pools unbidden warmth between your legs.

“Good girl, so good for me. Gonnae take such good care of ye.” Something warm and hard presses against your legs, and before you have time to think about how good that feels, both of his hands find the back of your knees and pull. They force your knees apart, yank you forward to the edge of your seat so that he’s knelt between your legs.

He clicks his tongue at the flutter of your lashes, eyes trying to open and make sense of the jarring repositioning of your lower extremities, and says, “‘S okay, keep ‘em closed. Just need t’ get a bit closer.” It is a dance afterall. But still, the notion that something about it isn’t quite what it should be festers at the far reaches of your mind.

“Give me yer hands.” It’s softer this time, his voice when he makes the request, but the demand and expectation there is clear–he’s leading, and you’re following. With tentative movements you reach out blindly in front of you until you feel the warmth of his hands enveloping and guiding yours, placing them against something rough that scratches between your palms.

His face, you realize, as your thumb brushes over the stubble on his jaw, tracing the strong line of it from his chin up to his ear. The hair is short there too, shorn close to his scalp, but it feels softer, pleasant against your fingertips. He hums, whether in approval or simply in reaction to your clumsy exploration you can’t decipher, and you can feel the way it vibrates in his throat against your hand lingering on his jaw.

Lost in the new sensation of him you don’t immediately realize where his hands have settled on you, palms rough with callouses gliding over exposed skin and up the expanse of your thighs to capture your hips, long fingers only just grazing your rear. He pulls you closer, closer to the edge, and your arms instinctively wrap around his shoulders, seeking balance and support from the broad expanse of them.

With his hands splayed across your ribs on either side he presses his face into your neck, dragging his nose up towards your jaw and breathing in long and deep, the shuddering exhale of his breath zapping against your sensitive skin in tantalizing currents.

“Had my eyes on ye all night,” he murmurs, and you can feel the brush of his lips against skin that's begun to warm beneath his touch.

Odd, you think, for a patron to catch the eye of a dancer. Shouldn’t it be the other way around? A lot of this should be happening inversely, or perhaps not at all. It feels like a violation of the rules, a breach in etiquette, to have so much contact with him–to be touching him.

“Need to know, pretty thing. Need to know… what ye taste like.” He’s panting when he voices that particular desire, voice rough and breathless, and it feels funny that he should be the one short of breath when you haven’t taken one since he put his hands on you, still holding onto the dwindling supply of air and withering sense of propriety.

This… this should not be happening, you think as he tips you back, big hands pushing you down onto the couch again and this time your eyes do more than flutter, opening wide as your back meets the cushion beneath you.

“Sir, I- this isn’t what-”

“I ken it’s not what ye thought it would be, bonnie. Doesnae change the fact that it’s what ye need,” he cuts you off, gruff and adamant in his assessment of you.

What you need? You don’t need this. The privacy is nice, yes, and he’s certainly a welcome sight, but this isn’t a dance. This isn’t what you agreed to.

He must be able to see your confusion, the warring thoughts in your mind written on your face as plainly as a line drawn on a battlefield. How your mind struggles to reconcile the sudden shift. How that line in sand has been trampled beyond recognition and you don't know which side of it you're standing on anymore. He has to know because he laughs, a warm flutter of breath ticking across your inner thighs.

The gasp that tears from your lungs when his teeth sink into the meat of your thigh, fanning dormant embers of desire you're only now becoming aware of, only seems to amuse him further. Makes his lips, pulled apart in a grin, vibrate against your skin before biting you again. You try to pull away from him but he curls a massive arm around your leg, holding you firmly in place for his tongue to lave over the imprint of his teeth on your skin.

“Just as sweet as she looks,” he remarks, more to himself than you, and his hands push the fabric of your dress up past your hips. You squirm in his grasp but he just wraps the other arm around you and coos sweet sounds between your legs, hooks them over his shoulders and clamps his hands around your hips once more. “Jus’ need some attention, hm? Poor girl, cannae breathe with these, can ye?”

Is he… talking to your pussy?

You get your answer when you feel the hot press of his mouth over the thin scrap of lace.

What the fuck is happening?

Not normal. This is not normal. This should not be happening.

It makes your head spin, the steady stream of realization that trickles in through the haze of… You don’t want to admit what you’re feeling. Don’t want to admit that amidst your panic and confusion, how suddenly the situation escalated, you never said no.

You aren’t saying no. You should be saying no.

“Such a pretty wee cunt,” he lilts as a hand trails down and pulls your panties to the side, revealing the most intimate part of you to him.

You can feel your body's betrayal of your emotions, the cooling sensation of his breath against the slick gathering between your thighs. It sends tumultuous sparks of pleasure up your spine and makes your fingers flex against the couch beneath you, seeking purchase and finding none. He coos at this, digs his fingers into your hips and presses his lips to your folds like he’s kissing your mouth, tongue flicking out to taste your slick and teeth nipping at the soft flesh.

It’s maddening how good it feels, how tormented you are about even remotely liking it. He’s taken you here under false pretense and forced himself upon you. You should be angry with him. But it's hard to separate the confusion from the adrenaline, the fear from the lust that addles your senses.

“Ye’re thinkin’ too much. Relax.” His voice is rough, pitched low and graveled by his own desire, and he digs his thumbs into your hip flexors, smoothing out the muscles wrought with tension. “‘S’posed to feel good, bonnie. Let me take care of ye, work ye over how ye need.”

You open your mouth to protest, to say someone might hear, might walk in and see you, separated by only a curtain from the rest of the club. The words die on your tongue when he cards his through your silken folds in one broad stroke, warm and wet and so fucking good, illiciting a string of breathy moans in place of your objections. A growl of assent rumbles in his chest again, rocking through you in wicked bolts, nerves firing in tandem with the movements of his tongue lapping at your entrance like a man starved.

Despite how your mind still kicks and thrashes, desperate to pull your head above water and think clearly, your body can't help its response to him, surrendering to the undertow that pulls you further into the hazy depths of pleasure with each fervent swipe of his tongue.

“Tha’s it sweet girl, doin so good.” He has no right, none at all, to make you feel this way. Warm and wanting, squirming closer, trying to find more friction. He doesn’t deserve the sniveling whimpers that crawl up your throat, the hands that blindly seek the shock of messy hair to pull him closer and beg for more.

And he gives it to you, focuses his attention on your aching bundle of nerves in tight, precise circles, coaxing you closer to the swell that’s building at the base of your spine.

“Gonnae come for me?” His teeth wrap around your clit and you keen, cry out wantonly at the sudden sharpness of the sensation, the additional pressure, and a litany of yes’s flows forth from lips parted on a moan.

He’s relentless in his pursuit of your climax. Desperate, even, to feel your body go taut with pleasure, pressing his face so far between your legs you wonder if he can even breathe. Each flick of his tongue, scrape of his teeth, pushing you closer and closer until the tension breaks, a cresting wave of pleasure crashing over you and drowning your senses in liquid fire.

He works you to the point of overstimulation, until the drag of his tongue feels like a blade against your skin and your thighs burn from the scrape of his stubble. Only then, does he give you a reprieve, panting when he pulls back and peppers kisses over the raw skin.

“Such a good girl, did so well for me. Knew ye’d be good for me, bonnie.” He gathers you up, rights your undergarments and pulls your skirt back down your thighs before he helps you sit up, and his hand feels warm against your cheek, thumb swiping away the mascara running in inky trails down your face. “Gonna get ye some water, dinnae move,” he murmurs against your temple, lips pressed against your skin in a comparatively chaste kiss before all that warmth pulls away and you're left on your own.

You couldn’t go anywhere if you wanted to, knees too weak to even think about moving off the couch, lest you look like a wobbling faun stumbling back to your friends. But when the curtain opens, bright light from a flashlight shining into your eyes, you panic, eyes closing against the offending light and you push up onto your feet. You don’t stay up very long, however, as a wave of dizziness crashes into you full-force, sending you back down onto the couch in a clumsy heap.

“Oh, shit- are you alright? Hey,” The man in front of you crouches down, hands on your shoulders to hold you upright. He has a badge on his shirt. Security. “Do you know where you are?”

You rattle off the name of the club and some of the worry bunching his brows lessens.

“Have you had anything to drink?”

“He’s getting me water.”

“He? Your boyfriend?

“The dancer, his name-” You never did get his name, from him or Kari. “-he has a… a harness? And jeans. I think he has a mohawk too.” There's a funny look on his face now, like he doesn’t really believe you.

“Honey, we don’t have any dancers here tonight that look like that.”

©️Eilidh-Eternal.2024 ~ The intellectual property of Eilidh-Eternal is not permitted for reposting, transcription, translation or use with AI technologies.

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am-i-interrupting · 2 months

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Hi! I loved your Hazbin hotel with nails head cannons. Could you do an extension of that where you get nails to match your s/o? Please 🙏 ❤️❤️❤️

There are two ways to take this so depending on whether or not the character would let someone do their nails dictates how I’ll do it. For characters who will, you get matching sets of nails. For characters who won’t, you get nails that are inspired by their aesthetic.

(Part two— the gals)

Alastor

When you show him nails that are red in color with radio dials and deer antlers decorating them, his smile widened and he tilted his head, curious.

“What do you think?” “I think that you look lovely, darling.”

Expect some extra hand holding.

He will be bringing your hand up to his lips to kiss. Looks at the design, smiles a bit more genuinely, squeezes your hand, and let’s your hands drop.

When your in private, expect to be brought into his lap.

He lets you do whatever you like but he is holding one of your hands the entire time.

Running his fingertips down your finger.

He will run his thumb over any ridges that appear due to the design.

When you’re asleep, he memorizes the design, his color, his symbols on your hand against your skin.

Husk

He’s actually shocked when you take his suggestion. He thought you were just asking out of idle curiosity. He didn’t actually expect you to get it done.

He just kind of stares, shocked at your hand.

The nails are matte and coffin shaped.

Most have a black base and have a card type design. The spade, the clover, the diamond. The first two white and the last red.

What he didn’t expect the heart to be yellow and your free fingernail to have the white and pink stripes of his ears. (Listen, I love his pilot design)

He placed a kiss to your hand and compliments them.

He’s not as obvious as Alastor would be (in comparison to Alastor’s normal no touch behavior) but he would be holding your hand a bit more.

When he thinks no one is watching, he’ll stare at your nails with a quirked little smile.

Lucifer

You go get your nails done together.

Lucifer gets a little duck design with a white background.

He just sort of stares at them, surprised at how much he likes it.

He starts going with you more often to get his nails done. It makes him feel good. He starts wearing his gloves less.

When you get nails inspired by him, he’s absolutely speechless.

The pinstripe design of his favorite waistcoat. The apple and snake imagery.

He loves it so much.

He placed a kiss on every single finger.

When the two of you next see Charlie or anyone from the Hotel or Ozzie, Bee, or any of the other sins, he grabs your hand and shoved it in their face.

“Look at their nails! See! They’re inspired by me! They put that on their hand!”

Vox

“So, what did you get this time, my dear?”

His brow would raise when he saw the design.

The Voxtech logo, a wifi symbol, some red and black hypno circles, and the rest same blue as his claws.

“Well, well, what sight. I do believe these are my favorite set yet.”

Would bring your hand up against his and measure how they line up.

He would then curl your hands together so he was holding yours.

He would then pull you into your lap and give you a kiss.

Ideally he’d run his hands along your fingers but that’s just something he does without them.

Secretly (not really) he likes the fact that you’ve willingly put his symbols on you.

Would try not to give away his liking to them away too much so he doesn’t really do much aside saying they’re his favorite set.

#vox x reader #hazbin vox x reader #alastor x reader #hazbin alastor x reader #hazbin lucifer x reader #lucifer x reader #lucifer morningstar x reader #hazbin husk x reader #husk x reader

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captain-hawks · 6 months

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THE LINE BETWEEN LUST & CONTEMPT

♡ — kento nanami x f!reader

As you glance down at the skimpy, khaki skirt and blue shirt that’s missing far too many buttons on the top end, topped off with a silky, patterned yellow tie and heels that may actually kill you, you find yourself wondering again who in their right mind let Gojo pitch Secret Santa-style costumes for the Halloween party.

18+ ONLY

wc — 5.5k

content — enemies to lovers speed run, protective Nanami, soft dom!Nanami vibes, "fucking it out", gagged with a tie, oral fixation, spit kink, spitting in mouth, fingering, squirting, handjob, choking, multiple orgasms, unprotected sex, creampie, washing machine sex, wall sex, praise kink, Nanami’s big dick

— AKA what if nobody went to Shibuya and everyone went to a Halloween party instead?

╰┈➤ kinktober masterlist

“You’re joking, right?”

There’s a familiar chuckle that rings out over the phone, one that often signifies nothing good is to come when you’re on the receiving end of it.

“Does everything fit?” Gojo asks coyly, as if he’s incapable of hearing the thinly-veiled threat in your prior question. It wouldn’t be the first time.

You glare at your phone where it’s perched atop your dresser before returning your gaze to the mirror in front of you, readjusting the blue button down shirt once again in an attempt to keep your chest at least modestly covered—it’s a lost cause.

“Well, this shirt’s somehow missing half the buttons from the top,” you respond dryly, moving on to fix the silky, yellow tie with black spots that’s secured loosely around your neck.

This is a disaster waiting to happen.

“And?”

“And my ass is basically hanging out of this skirt,” you continue, roughly tugging the khaki-coloured material down in vain, as if that will persuade it to extend past its otherwise permanent resting place against your very upper thighs.

“I really don’t see what the problem is.”

Kicking at the precariously tall pair of heels sitting on the floor waiting to wreck your feet, you grumble, “I can’t even walk in heels.”

“Shoko’s house is small. You’ll be fine.”

You walk over to your bed, eyeing the gift bag that Gojo had left sitting on your desk at the school earlier this morning. Something still remains neatly placed at the bottom—a lacy, red lingerie set.

“Should I ask why you bought me lingerie, too? I don’t see how that’s part of the costume. Unless Nanami likes wearing thongs on his days off.”

There’s that fucking chuckle again.

“Nanami-kun loves the color red, don’t you know?”

An unwelcome flash of heat flares white-hot in your gut at the implication behind his words, and you’re mortified. “You’re aware we hate each other, right? Have you been living under a rock? He’ll probably turn around and leave as soon as he walks in and sees me wearing this.”

Gojo’s chuckle turns into an outright laugh, and you can practically hear him shoving his stupid blindfold up to wipe away the tears of amusement prickling at the corners of his ridiculously blue eyes.

“Hate? Yeah, sure. Alright.”

Asshole.

You hang up on him.

–

You had the (dis)pleasure of becoming acquainted with Kento Nanami just over a year ago, shortly after Gojo roped him back into the world of jujutsu sorcery, despite his best efforts to avoid it during his stint as a salaryman. Given that Jujutsu High isn’t exactly brimming with a large roster of full-fledged sorcerers, the two of you have—naturally—been paired up on your fair share of cases.

To say that you don’t work well together is an understatement.

Nanami’s straightforward and calculated way of operating in the field is a direct contrast to your fast and loose approach, one that relies heavily on acting on your feelings in the heat of the moment, rather than calculating precise, measured ratios that guarantee a critical hit.

You’re too reckless.

Too emotional.

Too spontaneous.

Too sentimental.

You grate on him much in the way Gojo does, but whereas there are years of friendship that give Nanami the patience to put up with the strongest sorcerer’s antics, he has no reason to extend that same courtesy to you.

Needless to say, he’d outright balked when Gojo happily announced that you were a grade 1 sorcerer as well, something that never fails to ruffle his feathers as he watches you flirt with dangerous situations time and time again just for the thrill of it, saving your finishing blow of cursed energy for the last possible moment.

“I can’t work with someone who’s actively trying to get themselves killed,” you’d overheard him snapping at Gojo after your second mission together. “She’s worse than you.”

“She always gets the job done, doesn’t she?”

“At the cost of my sanity, I can’t say it’s worth it.”

Admittedly, you may or may not exacerbate the issue on occasion, exaggerating the aforementioned behavior that you know gets on his nerves just to further get a rise out of him in your attempts to try and dislodge the perpetual stick that’s lodged up his ass.

–

When Shoko opens the door to her apartment later that evening, the sounds of music and laughter spilling out onto her front step, she takes one look at your costume, eyes wide, and laughs, “Oh, Nanami is going to love this.”

You exhale dramatically through your nose, though the exasperated gesture is thrown off by the way you then proceed to shiver, your meager outfit doing little to protect you from the crisp October air. “Tell me again why we didn’t veto Gojo’s Secret Santa Halloween?”

She shrugs, stepping aside to let you in as she offers you a knowing glance. “I seem to remember you saying how fun it would be to surprise each other with costumes.”

“That was before he picked my name,” you lament, glancing down at the outfit that you’ve now begun to refer to as The Slutty Salaryman.

“Guess I’m lucky you picked me, then,” she winks, waving a hand to show off the far more modest and fun rendition of Principal Yaga that you’d put together for her, complete with a faux cursed corpse seated on her shoulder with large googly eyes glued to its little bear face. “If it makes you feel any better, someone with a sense of humor clearly got Gojo.”

Careful not to trip and fall to your death in the heels as you head through the entryway to the party beyond, which is bustling with a mixture of familiar faces and strangers alike, you scan the room for a tall head of white hair. True to Shoko’s words, you’re not at all disappointed when you catch sight of Gojo dressed as Gakuganji, looking completely ridiculous with fake facial hair, crudely drawn makeup to add decades to his appearance, and loose-fitting pants that are amusingly unflattering on his lean frame.

It’s not quite revenge, but it’ll do.

–

Two hours pass without a sign of the man you’re dressed as, and for a moment, you’re relieved at the thought that perhaps you’re off the hook. Every little smug, knowing grin Gojo’s been tossing your way will have been for naught.

But perhaps just to spite you, the front door swings open the moment you take a celebratory swig from the glass of wine in your hands, leaving Shoko to pound on your back while you start choking on the liquid at the goddamn sight standing before you.

Nanami’s dressed as Gojo.

Sort of.

His blonde hair can’t quite disobey the laws of gravity like the other sorcerer’s stark white locks, so it hangs soft and loose over the white blindfold on his face, which is lifted just enough over one eye so he can actually see. Rather than don Gojo’s typical uniform, Nanami’s in an all-black suit (save for the tie he never goes anywhere without), the well-fitting material leaving little to the imagination as it snugly hugs his muscled arms and thick thighs.

You’re too distracted to respond to the way Shoko’s snickering in your ear, and when Nanami turns around to talk to someone—thus offering you a view of the outfit from behind—you choke again.

Naturally, you spend the next hour doing everything in your power to avoid Nanami for reasons you’re not quite ready to examine, utilizing an excessive amount of mental gymnastics to justify the way you keep dipping out of conversations every time you catch a flash of blonde hair out of the corner of your eye. The confusing mixture of feelings you’re experiencing has sent your fight-or-flight response into overdrive.

Your concerted efforts take a nosedive when a far-too-observant Gojo manages to wrangle the two of you into a conversation before you can find an excuse to be somewhere else. It’s disastrous at best, Nanami offering a blunt, disinterested list of every poor decision he felt that you made when Gojo asks how your joint assignment the other day went.

And just when you’re about to lay into Nanami about how difficult he made that mission, Shoko grabs you by the hip, resting her head on your shoulder with a smile as she turns to him and asks in a calculating tone, “Nanami-kun, doesn’t her costume look great?”

He glances at you with a gaze full of disinterest before turning to Gojo with an unimpressed look. “I’d never wear such a cheap tie.”

Nanami walks away to get another drink before you can think of a good comeback, though admittedly, the tie is a terrible knock off.

—

“Shit, sorry!”

Cold beer splashes across your chest and soaks the front of your shirt as a man trips and stumbles in your direction, and you groan in annoyance at the feeling of the sticky liquid dripping down your skin. Despite the fact that you wave him off, heading toward the kitchen in search of paper towels, he follows you, spilling out a string of apologies as he himself scrambles for a pile of napkins.

It’s an awkward shuffle of you trying to clean your chest off without flashing him and the man getting entirely too close as he awkwardly makes an attempt to dab your shirt dry. To your relief, he doesn’t make it that far, the fingers now wrapped around his wrist halting his arm midair.

“She’s fine.”

Nanami.

The blindfold is long gone, leaving behind the rare sight of him with no glasses and soft, tousled hair. Internally, you scramble to rustle up the familiar feeling of annoyance that always weighs heavily in your gut at the sight of him. Instead, it’s all you can do to try and keep the hitch in your breath inaudible as you feel your stupid heart trip over itself.

“I’m just—”

“Do you need his help?” Nanami interrupts the man’s slightly slurred words, directing his steely gaze to you.

For all of the endless comebacks you can normally conjure up to hurl back at him between one breath and the next, you’re temporarily rendered speechless in confusion as to why he’s helping you. So instead, you just shake your head.

“She doesn’t need your help,” he repeats, nothing friendly in the way he says it.

The man apologizes again as he drops your arm and scurries from the kitchen, and you turn away from Nanami, leaning against the counter as you attempt to catch your breath and school your expression into something that doesn’t scream, “Why the fuck was that so hot?”

“Are you alright?” he asks carefully, the tinge of concern in his voice sinking into your bones.

Hand coming up short from the now-empty paper towel roll, you let out a sound of frustration, though it’s moreso due to the infuriating way your body’s been reacting all night to a man you normally can’t even be in the same room with without arguing about something.

“Like you said, I’m fine,” you tell him sarcastically, spinning around and pushing past him to grab napkins from the table instead. When all else fails, deflect.

Unfortunately, spinning in heels is arguably one of your worst decisions of the evening, because you instantly lose your balance on the smooth tile floor. When you try to right yourself mid-step, the room tilts as the heel on one shoe cracks under the pressure. Your hands fly up to break your inevitable fall, but it never comes, a pair of arms wrapping firmly around your body and catching you.

Body momentarily on an angle as Nanami holds you against his warm, solid frame, you look up at him with a dumbfounded expression. If he did this in the field, you’d have jumped out of his hold with a snarky remark about not needing his help.

But right now?

Right now, you don’t know what you want.

He stares down at you, nonplussed. “You can’t walk in heels,” he observes.

You blink.

“I can’t walk in heels,” you concede, for once not brimming with the fire to argue.

“And you’re still dripping wet.”

Nanami lifts you back into a standing position, napkins clutched in one hand as he stands on your side with the broken heel and wraps an arm around your waist, helping you to walk. You desperately try to ignore the way it feels to be tucked against him.

You hate him.

Right?

He has you facing the short hallway that you know leads to Shoko’s laundry room instead of the living room. “Should I ask where you’re taking me?”

He looks at you, sighing and shaking his head as he walks you toward another door, flicking on the light before he suddenly hoists you up without warning. You yelp at the feeling of something cold touching the backs of your thighs, short skirt and thin tights doing nothing to protect you from the metal surface you’re now sitting on. Glancing down, you realize he’s put you on top of the washer.

“Here,” he unceremoniously drops the pile of napkins into your lap. “I thought you might want to clean yourself up somewhere more private, given that you seem to be missing most of the buttons on your shirt.”

Is that fucking sarcasm in his voice?

He waves his hand in the direction of the damp blue button down, as if it’s not meant to be an imitation of his trademark outfit.

“And what are you going to d—”

You’re cut off by your own gasp at the feeling of Nanami’s hand wrapping around your ankle, the gentleness of the gesture a stark contrast to the way he’d nearly manhandled the stranger in the kitchen. He raises an eyebrow, holding up the broken-off heel in his other hand.

“Can’t have you limping around Shoko’s house the rest of the night, can we? That’s a disaster waiting to happen.”

You can’t bring yourself to argue, too mesmerized by the way he drags a hand through his blonde hair to push it out of his face, the stubborn locks fighting their way back across his forehead as his brows furrow together in concentration.

You want to card your own hands through it, to see what kind of expression his face will morph into.

No.

“I think they’re a lost cause,” you sigh, leaning forward to take them off and admit defeat. You’re sure Shoko has a pair of slippers somewhere.

You get a face full of Nanami’s hair instead as he beats you to the punch, his long, deft fingers making surprisingly quick work of the tiny buckles as you try not to make it too obvious that you’re now purposely inhaling the scent of his shampoo for whatever fucking reason has compelled your traitorous body to do so.

This entire night is a write off at this point.

Head elsewhere, you belatedly realize that your legs are spread far too wide for the microscopic length of your skirt, which may be why Nanami’s gaze has remained dutifully trained on your feet, rather than the bright red thong you know is staring him in the face. You try not to make it too obvious as you inch your thighs back together.

Putting your shoes on top of the dryer, Nanami goes to leave, turning his head to the side once he’s facing the door, “Do you want me to get Shoko?”

You should say yes.

You should say yes and watch him go back out to the party, letting the door swing shut on this strange, baffling detour in your contemptuous, stormy relationship.

You’ll go home and sleep off the tightening of your throat and the pressure in your chest, these hazy, confusing feelings sure to fade in the night, long gone after sunrise like the evaporation of morning dew.

But you’ve never been one to make things easy for yourself.

“So that’s it?”

Nanami turns around fully, eyes meeting yours. “What do you mean?” he asks carefully.

“You’re just going to go back out to the party?” You’re not sure why you’re pushing him.

He takes two slow steps back toward you, hip brushing against your knee when he comes to a stop. “Are you incapable of getting off of the washer without hurting yourself, too?”

There’s an unfamiliar, teasing lilt to the way he says it, and you shift in place, blood prickling hot beneath your skin. What’s wrong with you tonight?

“You really have nothing to say about my costume?” The words are out of your mouth faster than you can take back the idle thought that’s been nagging you since he walked in the door.

Since you caught him looking at you from across the room several times after his initial biting remark about the tie, his expression unreadable.

Nanami scoffs quietly, the scent of his cologne licking its way up your nostrils as he leans one hand atop the washer, just beside your thigh. Veins bulge against his forearm, and you find yourself wondering when he rolled his sleeves up.

Electricity shoots down your spine as a caress of hot breath tickles the shell of your ear. “What do you want me to say?”

You stare straight ahead, not turning to face him. “How much you hate it.”

The air in the small room is thick with the tension that hangs heavily in the scant space between your bodies. Nanami’s quiet for a moment.

“I do hate it.”

Why do you feel so disappointed by the response you knew you’d get?

Then, his dress shoes scuff against the floor, his right hand coming to rest on your other side as he slides over and cages you in entirely.

“I hate how badly it makes me want to fuck you,” he breathes out.

Suddenly, you feel far too hot and dizzy to be perched atop Shoko’s washer. “What?”

He chuckles darkly. “Don’t act stupid, princess.”

The air feels like it’s rattling in your chest as you inhale, your increased intake of oxygen doing nothing to clear your clouded brain. “You hate me,” you say dumbly.

His thumb twitches, brushing against the outside of your thigh where there’s a small run in your sheer stockings. The contact is so minimal, you barely feel it, but it leaves a burning hot brand echoing through your nervous system all the same.

Despite the fact that he has you caged atop the washing machine, he’s barely touching you, his body arched just enough to avoid the idle sway of your legs. His tie dangles in the space between your bodies, and you have to fight the urge to wrap your fingers around it and tug.

Nanami stares at you, an odd expression on his face. “I hate the way you make me feel,” he corrects you.

Oh.

“But you—”

“You’re reckless.”

“I’m—”

“You’re insufferable.”

“Well—”

“You’re too fucking smart to be risking your life in jujutsu sorcery.”

“You’re one to tal—”

“Too talented—”

“Well that might be the nicest thing you’ve ever—”

“—you have no regard for your own life in the field.”

“Can’t argue with that.”

“You infuriate me to no end—”

“Are you hitting on me or trying to hurt my feelings I really can’t te—”

“You drive me fucking crazy,” he rasps, chest heaving.

You stare at him, blinking slowly. “The feeling’s mutual.”

He runs his tongue over his lower lip. “I can’t stand it.”

You can hardly hear the sounds of the party anymore.

“Then do something about it.”

Nanami’s lips come crashing into yours, and every flickering ember in your body flares to life.

There’s a dizzying precision to the way Nanami kisses, mouth claiming yours so thoroughly that a moan crawls its way up your throat before he’s even begun to skirt the seam of your lips with his tongue. Your lips part for him, and he deepens the kiss, one hand cupping the back of your head as his tongue slides over yours.

He explores your mouth like he wants to devour you, and you let him, already dangerously addicted to the taste of his saliva mixing with your own, keening when he takes your bottom lip between his teeth and bites down.

His hand drifts from your thigh to your shirt, and he grunts as he feels the still-damp material. Without hesitation, you begin to undo the few buttons Gojo hadn’t torn off before giving it to you, overcome with the need to feel the pressure of Nanami’s large, callused hands against your bare skin. He slips the loose tie over your head as you toss the soiled shirt aside, a groan escaping his mouth when he finally takes in the unhindered sight of your bright red bra.

While the straps are lace, the cups are thin and sheer, leaving your peaked nipples on display. You almost hadn’t worn it after realizing how little it left to the imagination.

But now, seeing the way Nanami’s jaw ticks as he stares down at you, fingers twitching where they’re resting against the tops of your thighs, you don’t regret it one bit.

Your breasts feel heavy and tender under his rapt attention, and the coil nestled in your gut tightens.

Nanami looks like he’s holding himself back, and you feel a surge of arousal drip between your legs as you watch him teeter at the knife’s edge of his restraint.

“You don’t need to be gentle with me,” you tell him, overcome with the need to feel exactly what it is that he wants to do to you.

He cradles the side of your face, fingers curling behind your ear as he slots his mouth against yours. The kiss is thorough but brief, and soon he’s dragging his lips along the curve of your jaw, mouth blazing a trail down the side of your neck, tongue exploring the dip of your collarbone.

While you know where he’s headed, your entire body still arches hard into him when he finally cups your breasts with both hands, leaning in to wetly mouth at one of them through the material of your bra. He licks and sucks, the sensation making you tremble, and you throw your head back and moan, one leg hooking around his waist to pull him in as you scoot closer to the edge of the washer.

You’re about to take off your bra, but Nanami beats you to the punch, fingers easily flicking open the hooks and allowing your supple breasts to spill out before him. He dives back in, groaning as his lips close around your bare nipple, tongue dancing along the sensitive skin that surrounds the hard bud. His mouth is hot, and slick saliva coats your breasts as he goes back and forth between the two, kneading and sucking.

With both of your legs now wrapped around his waist in the haze of your arousal, you inadvertently begin to rock into him, your short skirt hiked up around your hips and rendered useless. You moan at the feeling of the sizeable shaft that presses hard into the heat between your legs, his erection straining against the zipper of his slacks. Nanami groans as you start shamelessly dry humping him, and your panties dampen further at the feeling of the sound vibrating against your tits. He gazes one of your nipples with his teeth, teasing it a final time before he straightens, hand coming up to cup your cheek.

Nanami stares at you intently, thumb brushing over your bottom lip, eyes tracking the way your pupils dilate in turn. He does it again, and your tongue darts out, grazing the tip. Tilting his head ever so slightly to the side, he presses the tip of his thumb just past the entrance of your lips, eyes darkening as he watches how easily you welcome the intrusion. He drags his thumb down the side of your chin, pulling down your lower lip with his pointer finger, and your lips part.

A small, eager thrum flares in your gut as you take his finger into your mouth, tongue wrapping around it as you coat it with saliva. Your panties are slick with arousal as you continue to chase the friction of his cock, moaning when he puts another finger in your mouth. You begin to bob your head on the digits, sucking on them so eagerly that you can’t bring yourself to care about the drool sliding from the corner of your mouth.

“You’re going to be the death of me,” he groans, wiping off the stray saliva with his other thumb and licking his finger clean.

He’s said the same thing time and time again before, but it’s far more preferable in this context.

You whimper in relief when he finally slides that hand down your body, bringing it to rest at the apex of your thighs. The sound is muffled by the fingers still shoved in your mouth, and a sound of amusement rumbles in his chest as he watches you desperately keen and writhe for him.

He drags a finger down the length of your wet pussy, though the contact is muted by your stockings. You begin to shift your hips, a plea for him to tear them off of you, but his impatience wins out as he outright tears them open to gain access to the plush, dripping warmth of your cunt.

“More red,” he murmurs in approval, running his fingers over the matching sheer material that covers your mound, one digit sliding up to firmly tug at the thick, lace waistband that sits high against your hip bones.

“You like red?” you ask, already knowing the answer.

But he surprises you, still. “I like you in red.”

Nanami uses his thumb to push your thong aside, steadily dragging his finger down your soaking wet slit now exposed to him. The digit slides right through your sensitive folds, and he smirks before sliding one long digit knuckle-deep into your tight hole.

You gasp, toes curling as you buck into his touch, already greedy for more. Greedy to be filled.

“More,” you pant out as he slowly pumps the finger in and out of your cunt.

“Open for me,” he tells you, voice low and rough.

You don’t hesitate, lips falling open, and your body radiates with tremors of pleasure as Nanami spits directly into your mouth. Swallowing it down, you moan, drunk on the feeling of submission as he slides in another digit and continues fucking you on his fingers.

“Good girl,” he breathes out heavily. “So pretty like this.”

You shudder under the weight of his praise, something unlocking inside of you as you begin to realize maybe you’ve wanted this from him all along. Needed this from him all along.

“Fuck me, Nanami. Please.”

“Kento,” he corrects you, hair tickling your neck as he leans in, licking and sucking at the junction between your shoulder and neck.

“Fuck me,” you moan, loosening his tie as your fingers trail their way down opening each button of his shirt. “Kento.”

He bites down hard at the sound of his first name on your lips, his gravelly voice like fire against your skin, “Come for me first.”

He picks up his pace, fingers squelching lewdly in your cunt. Your mouth falls open as you try to temper down the loud moans of pleasure you want to give him, aware that all that separates you from the partygoers is the closed door a few feet away.

Kento roughly spits into your mouth again at the same moment that he brings his free hand between your legs to tease your clit, the fingers buried inside of you curling as he strokes your sensitive, spongey wall. A choked out sob leaves you when you come, and he swallows it down with a messy kiss, meeting your muffled cries of pleasure with his own rough moan as he feels you squirt all over him, clear liquid spraying his shirt and pants.

“Fuck,” he groans, the wavering loss of his composure now evident in his voice as you ride out the last waves of your orgasm on his hand.

Overcome with the desire to feel the large erection tented painfully at the front of his pants, your fingers fumble with the button and zipper, a sigh of pleasure leaving you when you finally wrap your hands around his long, thick cock. Kento kisses you filthily, moaning into your mouth as you begin pumping his cock, thumb sliding over the precum dripping from the head.

His large hands grasp your thighs, pulling you as close to the edge of the washer as possible. Kento wraps his own hand around his dick, firmly dragging the head down your creamy slit. You rock forward, chest heaving, muscles clenched tight with desire and need, only to be met with a sharp burst of pleasure as he slaps his cock heavily against your pussy. You whimper for him.

Placing a finger over your lips, which have been far from quiet throughout this ordeal, Kento goes to grab the tie left discarded beside you. However, after his fingers close around the material, he raises a brow and shakes his head, letting it drop to the floor as he begins to loosen his own tie instead.

You make no effort to hide the shameless need on your face as he smirks at you, shaking his head before wrapping the tie around your mouth and gagging you with it.

“I like seeing you desperate,” he murmurs against your ear, before finally sheathing his thick cock inside of you.

His dick is so big, your tight pussy throbs from the stretch while he splits you open, flooding your body with an overwhelming wave of pleasure. Suit jacket already discarded somewhere along the way, your fingers tug off his unbuttoned dress shirt, leaving your hands free to explore the firm expanse of his abdomen.

The washing machine begins to shake loudly with each thrust, and Kento grunts, arms wrapping tightly around you as he lifts you, choosing to fuck you up against the wall instead. The continuous push and drag of his fat cock through your slick channel leaves your mind begging for more.

Your lewd moans are quiet and muffled against the gag, but he can still hear it when you beg, “Harder.”

He obliges, the shelf leaning against the wall beside you trembling ever so slightly when he begins to roughly thrust in and out of your cunt. His cock relentless plunges in to the hilt, your pussy greedily taking every long, thick inch as he fucks you deep. One of his hands runs down the side of your neck, and you find yourself leaning into the pressure, whimpering against the wet material blocking your mouth.

“Should have known you’d like this,” he rasps, hand sliding to the front of your throat as he tightens his grip and starts to choke you. “Now come on my cock.”

The pleasure that erupts inside of you swipes every remaining bit of air from your lungs, a choked out sob crawling its way up your throat as you tremble and shake in Kento’s steady grip, cunt squelching wetly around his dick.

He looks down between your bodies, the sight of the creamy ring you’ve left around the base of his shaft drawing a rough, aroused noise of appreciation from him.

Kento goes to pull out, but you shake your head, a small whine slipping past the tie, and he groans heavily, forehead falling against yours as he slams his cock back in to the hilt. It only takes a few strokes before he’s coming, too, shaft pulsing and throbbing within the tight grip of your slick cunt as he dumps rope after rope of hot cum inside of you, filling you to the brim.

When you’re finished, Kento sets you down carefully, his fingers tender as he undoes the gag and leans in, capturing your lips in a gentle kiss, tongue swiping along your lower lip.

“Are you alright?” He asks, thumb stroking your neck.

You don’t answer him for a beat, and his mouth curls downward in concern, meeting your gaze only to find the deceivingly innocent pout of your lips.

“Don’t tell me you’re done already?” you say.

You should be exhausted from how thoroughly he just fucked you, but instead, you’re already thinking about feeling the thick stretch of his cock inside of you again, and your cunt flutters and aches with a need that’s yet to be sated.

Kento laughs, the sound deep and rich, and you think you could get used to hearing it.

He pulls up your underwear, along with your now-ruined tights, lowering himself down on one knee before you as he presses a hot, open-mouthed kiss to your cunt while his thick, sticky cum begins to soak into your panties. You exhale shakily, already far too close to undone just from the sight before you alone, and he smirks, standing back up.

Kento takes your chin between his pointer finger and thumb, teasing your bottom lip. “We’re not done, we’re just going to go somewhere where I don’t need to cover your pretty lips next time.”

— likes, comments, &/or reblogs are greatly appreciated!

#kento nanami x reader #nanami kento x reader #nanami kento #kento nanami #jujutsu kaisen #jjk #jujutsu kaisen fanfiction #jjk fanfiction #jjk smut #kento nanami smut #dee writes

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lovingksuki · 7 months

Text

✰ SECRET ADMIRER

— highschoolers bakugo x fem!reader

synopsis: an anonymous love letter appears in your locker on valentine's day. surprised, you and your best friend start an investigation to uncover who was that person observing you from afar. meanwhile, a flushed bakugo tries to ruin your plans on the undercover alongside his shitty-haired buddy

cw: sfw; mostly fluff; lil angst; very insecure bakugo; romantic comedy; puberty; silly jokes; little swearing.

a/n: this is part one of three. let me know if you want this mini series to be continued :) and pls be patient since english is not my first language hehe ;;

word count: 1k

"oh c'mon! what if there's a heart shaped letter in your locker? you never know..."

"there's not."

"you can't be so certain about it. my girl is never looking her surroundings, who knows if someone got their heart pierced by an arrow?" mina pointed.

"shut up, every year the same thing..." you rushed and right after turning the corridor you captured by distance. "ok. maybe you were right." you said finding the metal compartment half closed.

then you grabbed the red paper in her hands, paying attention to the almost dry daisy taped lazily on the front; glanced around not spotting anything or anyone suspicious about it, then turned to your best friend.

"i got a feeling you're part of this." spurred.

"whoa, i was joking just now! even i am chocked. who's the sender?" the pink colored girl held her hands up in protest.

"i don't know, there's only my name." you stated carefully sticking the little flower out.

"let me search for a hint." mina took the letter from your hands suddenly, mumbling while quickly skimming through the words looking for something useful. she gasped before smirking at the content and then continued mumbling.

"enjoying yourself!?" you sighed waiting.

"mkay, done." handed the letter. "nothing between the lines. who wrote this sure is smart enough to not leak their identity."

"that's for me to decide. you ain't the smartest kind." you chuckled.

"hey!"

"more like the pretty girl type."

"you sly thing! you received a love letter, who's the pretty girl again?" both laughed at the statement and headed out to the cafeteria. "not reading it?"

"can't think when i am this hungry. we should hurry."

at the lunchtime the subject was the same. you two were discussing with your mouths full, sitting by yourselves on a table far enough from eavesdropping.

"hear me out. there's this line that seems to be rewritten over and over, it's a bit tattered." you mentioned. "it says: 'i'm still hesitant about what you think about me' and thanks to the pressure they put on paper seems to be 'afraid of who i am' underneath."

"adds a lot of nothing to our investigation. that's what everybody would say in a confession, i mean, nobody likes being dumped." pinky pointed out unfazed.

"yeah but, i don't think it's meaningless, what if this person is truly insecure about themselves." you pondered.

"or they're just ugly." mina chewed on her meal.

"i don't think that's the case... remember when you told me that thing you read about pretty boys' handwriting?" you brought up.

"did you actually believe that!? was just a discussion in a girl's meme forum." the pink one remarked.

"but there's some truth behind it. if you consider that people with a smaller hand can grip on a pen better when writing, also means the ones with big hands tend to have a sloppier handwriting!" you stated confident about your theory.

"girl, you're tripping... does this mean we're going across the school measuring boys' hands?" mina smirked unconvinced.

"precisely."

꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦

"what a fucking waste of time..." said raging.

"dude, calm down. at least you poured your feelings out..." eijiro reassured his bestfriend trying to point out the bright side of things.

but while he's the bright side, katsuki was the dark side. they say a good relationship is based in balance, in this case it makes total sense.

"you even checked if she read it?" asked the red haired.

"when she and mina walked by me at the corridor they were whispering and giggling like little lambs. probably laughing at that letter though." pouted.

"you're being paranoid, they're always like that."

"they're up to something..." bakugo murmured.

whilst the two struggled to put up with the 'plan cupid', the other two were constructing the 'plan pretty boy's handwriting'.

"as i was saying, a pencil has six inches approximately, we're looking for a hand as big at least. if we measure our hands we can compare with theirs without them noticing." stated grabbing a pen off her case.

"you're truly a genius. i refuse to accept you failed strategic test last week." mina complimented.

"i was in a really bad mood that day... anyway!" justified while traced her own hand in a empty page of mina's notebook. "fifteen centimeters. do yours and we're good to go!" demanded agitated.

when looking for friends of theirs, the girls pretended to just have a walk around the school.

"what if it was a girl?" mina asked suddenly.

"i doubt. how many girls with large hands do we know?" claimed.

"mmm... asui-san?"

"you've got to be kidding...!" pulled her phone and dialed quickly a number. "hey!" you smiled. "no, nothing really urgent, i just wanted to ask... are you perhaps in love with me?" questioned without any filter.

"girl you gone mad?" mina whispered holding back a laughter.

"uh, ok. anyways, thank you. we talk later, kisses!" you hung up. "see? that's not her."

"woah you're so straightforward! it scares me sometimes..."

the boys exited the restroom still discussing, but when the blondie heard a certain voice he stepped back. pulled eijiro's tie to hide behind a pillar with him. "shut it!" mouthed.

"i just wanted to ask... are you perhaps in love with me?"

"uh, ok."

his face started to burn as he became more anxious. could only hear a few words, enough to bring the boy into complete state of panic.

after the girls left he released his breath.

"stop overthinking! she just received a love letter, of course she's curious!" kirishima said.

"i didn't say anything, shitty-hair!"

"your face shows!" sighed. "seriously, how can she be so oblivious? just look at you! you're terrible at hiding."

"i- i... she doesn't even talk to me that often..." katsuki pitied.

"bro, you're not the friendliest around here. but she doesn't seem to be afraid of you." kiri pondered. "have you ever tried to smile?"

he looked at the red spiked guy and opened a shy smile.

"a bit more."

every time bakugo tried to put on smiling face it looked creepy. "be more genuine." said eijiro.

trying his best, but even with so much effort... his buddy analyzed. "ok. it looks absolutely terrifying."

"shit."

#mha fanfiction #mha bakugou #mha fluff #bakugou katsuki #bakugou x fem!reader #bakugo x reader #self insert #my hero academia #boku no hero academia #bakugou x you #bakugou fluff #bnha bakugo katsuki #katsuki bakugo x reader #katsuki bakugo x y/n

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jobean12-blog · 9 months

Text

Dark Desires

Pairing: Demon!Bucky Barnes x reader (Demon AU)

Word Count: 700

Summary: Now that he's finally found you he's never letting you go.

Author's Note: Another one for @pupandkisasaesthetics Aesthetic's challenge! Thank you bunches to beauties @sgt-seabass and @rookthorne for hosting such an awesome challenge!💕 And thank you bunches to my beautiful Ali @flordeamatista for reading this over and supporting me always!💕 Thank you all so much for reading! Much love always! ❤️❤️❤️Divider by the lovely @firefly-graphics thank you Daisy! 🥰The moodboard is by me and the photo prompt I was given is the very top picture. I've also included it on its own at the bottom so you can get a good look!

Warnings: some angst and tension but he's soft (maybe soft!d-a-r-kish if you squint) and definitely s-e-x-y.

In the deep, dark of the woods, where the moon’s pale light struggles to pierce through the dense canopy of trees, there is a thick silence other than the rapid thumping of your heart and the rush of blood in your ears.

Your feet catch on fallen twigs and branches, your skin scraped and torn but you don’t stop running.

Unseen eyes watch from the shadows, a presence so powerful you can feel it in your bones.

You’re being hunted.

Instinct fuels your escape but it’s futile as the forest seems to shift around you, pathways twisting and turning in a disorienting dance.

As you stumble over the ground and fall to your knees you suck in a deep breath, the whisper of wind carrying strange murmurs in a language you don’t understand.

Suddenly, you feel a cool breath at your neck, your hairs standing on end and goosebumps shivering along your skin.

You turn with wide, fear filled eyes but there’s nothing but the darkness of the woods pressing ever closer.

You stand on shaky legs and step carefully toward a large tree, pressing your back to the thick bark and searching for the source of the palpable force.

A tall and broad figure emerges from the shadows, it’s silhouette only something you’ve seen in books and as it moves closer, steps measured and deliberate, you can start to see the outline of huge wings.

You squeeze your eyes shut and will the image away, digging your fingertips into the tree.

The voice, when it speaks, is a whisper against the shell of your ear, powerful in it’s seduction and dangerous in it’s temptation.

A slow and deeply satisfied smile frames sharp teeth and his breath quickens when he inhales at the soft skin of your neck.

“Look at you,” he murmurs. “My perfect Angel.”

Your eyes are still closed tightly as a single tear rolls down your cheek. He lifts his thumb to tenderly brush it away.

“Open your eyes,” he says softly.

Unable to resist you do as he says.

“There,” he says, holding his saccharine smile. “Was that so hard.”

Your lips tremble as you try to find the words to speak. His thumb, still pressed to your skin, moves lower, tracing the outline of your mouth until he lightly presses against it, parting your lips.

“Don’t be afraid,” he coos, spreading expansive wings the color of twilight until you’re surrounded only by his presence. “I’m not going to hurt you.”

He tilts his head invitingly and holds your gaze, the horns that crown his head, twisting upward with artistic grace, glinting in the moonlight.

Your lips part further as something moves behind him, long and sinewy but before you can decipher what it is it disappears from sight.

“Wh…who are you?” you manage to ask as you finally let your eyes wander over the rest of his features.

He inches closer, his nearness creating a complex blend of emotions and sensations, blurring the lines between fear and desire in a way you could never have imagined.

His blue eyes are mesmerizing, their intensity both powerful and imposing but yet softened by an unyielding desire. Long but strong fingers continue to ghost over your face, his touch igniting a fire under your skin that spreads through your veins.

“James. You can call me James.”

You gasp out his name when you feel something slide along your calf. It’s touch is gentle despite the power you feel and as it explores the contours of your skin with reverent curiosity you become aware of what it is.

Each caress of his tail leaves a lingering trace of tingling sensations, awakening a trail of longing that seems to coil around your very being. He slides it between your breasts, lightly tracing the curve of your neck before he loosely wraps it around the delicate column.

“What are you going to do to me?” you ask, your voice barely above a whisper.

His dark hairs falls forward, brushing your cheek as his soft lips caress your ear and his voice, like velvet, whispers promises that sink deep into the recesses of your desires.

“Everything Angel. Everything you’ve ever dreamed of.”

@book-dragon-13 @hiddles-rose @randomfandompenguin @buckysdollforlife @blackwidownat2814 @late-to-the-party-81 @sebstanwhore @lookiamtrying @laineyreads @beccablogsthings @justkinsey @kmc1989 @littleseasiren

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes #demon!bucky barnes #bucky barnes x you #demon!bucky x reader #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes x female reader #demon!bucky #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes au #demon au #sebastian stan x reader #sebastian stan #pup&kisasaestheticchallenge

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ao3cassandraic · 9 months

Text

Saraqael, Heaven's Only Competent Angel

Season 2 got terrifically lucky with Liz Carr. Fantastic casting choice for a decidedly intriguing angel.

Saraqael strikes me as a Chief Operating Officer type. Judging from the colors of her lapels and Muriel's ascotty thing, Muriel is in her chain of command (near or at the bottom, naturally). Those colors also suggest that Saraqael, archangel or no, is a step down from Michael and Uriel. The big archangels don't wear plaids.

When Muriel goes to Saraqael with the matchbox, she makes a quick (and bureaucratically correct) decision to bring it to Michael and Uriel. She approaches them politely, with the correct form of address even, but fearlessly and without undue fawning. Good for her.

While Michael and Uriel are being completely and utterly useless, Saraqael heads over to the Realtime Big Globe and starts searching, zeroing in on the miracle plume quickly. So she's upper management, but she hasn't lost all ability to do hands-on OSINT. Intriguing.

Saraqael stops the standoff at Aziraphale's bookshop door with a firm but polite "Shall we discuss this inside?" She's also the one with the measurement of miracle strength, which fits a manager who still keeps her hand in. Otherwise, she observes -- and unlike Michael and Uriel, she doesn't give away anything. (Lord, Michael. "Did we [mention we were looking for Gabriel]?" It was the first thing Uriel said! Y'all get your good-cop-bad-cop story straight beforehand next time.)

And it's competent-ops Saraqael who decides on action: sending Muriel down for miracle verification and keeping a close eye on Aziraphale. Aziraphale calls this "very professional of you," and he's not wrong, considering Heaven's twisted, surveillance-laced notions of professionalism. Saraqael does her job.

Somebody definitely needed to coach Muriel better about fitting in on Earth, but I'm willing to forgive Saraqael that one; it's probably not her job to do that, but Muriel's line manager's job. Muriel's 37th-level -- I have to assume there's a line manager or two (or twelve) between them and Saraqael. Plus, of course, all the angels (except Aziraphale, possibly Sandalphon, and the Metatron) are ruinously terrible at Earthing -- s2 continues the s1 throughline of the archangels being seen on Earth only rarely and briefly.

Another moment of Michael's utter uselessness, incidentally -- in the Job minisode, when she archangelsplains the meaning of "Shuhite" our timorous Aziraphale actually rolls his eyes, and Gabriel quiets her with one hand. She's actually right to be suspicious (this happens often in s2), just terrible at actually communicating her suspicions such that anyone else will take action on them.

(I actually have considerable sympathy for Michael here. I have also 'splained a mighty 'splain professionally in my time, and had many eyes rolled at me. Michael's right. So was I. But so it goes. Knowledge without adroit communication isn't worth much.)

Saraqael recognizes Crowley in his bee!demon disguise immediately (unlike Michael and Uriel, again), but notice that she doesn't raise any alarms and she doesn't even bother punishing Muriel. (I am a bit sorry she doesn't get to take a crack at his horrific garb. Missed opportunity there.) With the Metatron's find-Gabriel mandate still in place, she lets the situation run to see if Crowley will get her closer to finding Gabriel -- which, in fact, he does! So she knows when not to act hastily, too.

In the meeting about the Second Coming, and at Gabriel's trial, Saraqael again observes but mostly holds her peace. Her opsness comes to the fore again when they decide to mindwipe Gabriel; she's the one to set it in motion via her glass phone, and she's the one to report that he can't be found. As ops, though, she doesn't unilaterally decide what to do -- she asks.

(And the Metatron, extremely punchable boss that he is, throws the worst and least accurate possible insult at her! Look, I'm not expert at British English or anything, but "wet" seems to mean "whingy halfhearted coward," and that is so not Saraqael! Ugh, if Gabriel learned management from the Metatron, no wonder he's such a horror in s1.)

So we're set up very well for the angels-and-demons bookshop scene. Does Saraqael act swiftly when told to? Yep -- if not for Crowley, Maggie and Nina would be table seasonings.

Does Saraqael observe, and draw correct conclusions? I think so. Because I'm on the side of things that thinks she rumbled the human-guise Metatron well before Crowley gave the game away to Aziraphale, yet said nothing. Very intriguing.

Here's where I'm going with all this. Two points, actually:

Point one: Maybe it wasn't the Metatron who mindwiped Crowley, since that's a thing that sure seems to have happened. (That would leave human-Enoch-becomes-the-Metatron theories intact.) Maybe it was Saraqael. Who worked with Crowley on the Horsehead Nebula, and might well have heard him asking dangerous questions. Whose job mindwiping apparently is. I'm not wedded to this theory, but gosh, it sure is interesting.

Point two: Organizations can shamble along like zombies with consistently crappy ops (a lot of us have probably worked for such; I sure have). An organization that had competent ops but suddenly loses it, however, is boned, humped, screwed, at least temporarily and quite possibly permanently.

If I were Aziraphale, wanting to ruin the Metatron and wreck Heaven's whole deal, the very first angel I'd want to subvert, recruit, or -- and I hope this doesn't happen but I'm not ruling it out, because if I'm right about what Saraqael did to Crowley, Aziraphale's gonna go postal when he finds out -- destroy, would be Saraqael.

#gos2spoilers #gos2 spoilers #good omens season 2 spoilers #good omens #good omens meta #saraqael #crowley #aziraphale #the fucking metatron #michael #uriel #the heaven non-brain trust

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presidentbungus · 2 months

Text

“What are you looking at so intently?” says Engie like any good Texan boy would, all fluttering eyelashes and blushy grins despite the fact his eyes are behind half a centimeter of tinted glass. Medic puffs out his lips into a little pucker, then smooths back out, and Engie glints with satisfaction at just the lightest dusting of pink that rises to his cheeks.

He makes sure to be just a little extra slow and sultry when he leans over and plucks a beer from the case by his recliner-chair. “See somethin’ ya like?” By which he means: you're staring for a good reason, please, god, aren't you? But he’s too respectful and upstanding to say that, though he considers himself certainly talented at this whole implications thing, and the deep mauve Medic turns when he tosses just a slightly inflected look in his direction indicates he must get the general idea.

“Well—hoo, well.” He spends two seconds frankly adorably stumbling through his words and then that gloved hand darts out and there’s rubber around Engie’s wrist, two long, thick fingers barely touching thumb-to-pointer in a little ring. “I was—er…”

He rescinds the hand, temples his fingers under his chin, caught between sitting and standing and settling in a weird in-between as Engie watches, fascinated. “I was just… thinking… about your heart. And your lungs.” He tilts his head. “And, in a small measure, your brain, I suppose. Er, imagining your breathing, and your circulation, and the oxygen flowing in and out of your limbs, and… so on. Drawing your veins in my mind and, and such.”

… Huh. Maybe he misread the situation.

And he keeps just stumbling through, pushing up his glasses every few seconds, still perched on his heels with his arms wrapped around his knees. “You’re a—private man. I have not seen much of you besides what I have been able to—have the company require,” and his voice pushes up a few notes on the last word, and well he’ll be damned if it’s not the cutest thing he’s ever seen, “but I… think about you.”

He lowers his voice just a little for this one, reclining down onto his back. “Oh, you do.”

“You have a very impressive set of lungs. Even for all the, er, damage." Engie frowns and Medic puts his hands up. "That's a compliment."

"Uh-huh."

"And your heart is a perfect specimen. Strong, and healthy… pulsing with vitality," and his eyes bug out just a little on the last line. "I was almost upset to have to cut it out of you… until, well…"

Ain't that interesting. "Until?"

He smiles sheepishly, wringing his hands together with a frankly disgusting sound of rubber against rubber. “… I may or may not have kept your original heart in a jar. With my other personal possessions.”

He mentally re-catalogues everything of interest in the lab, mentally travels to Medic’s big mahogany former-bookshelf, stacked top-to-bottom with preserved organs in jars, and sees a lot of hearts. A lot of hearts. But, then again, his mind is drawn back to a smallish mason jar near the front, suspiciously unlabeled, amidst rows and rows of perfectly organized bits and pieces.

Yeah, sure.

He's sure Medic is approaching this more from scientific curiosity than any particular angle he'd prefer, but heat's rising to his face before he knows it and frankly he doesn't really feel like putting in the effort to quell it.

And just to press the envelope that tiny bit further, he ventures: "Well I'll be darned if that's not the most romantic thing I've ever heard."

Medic turns the color of his tie. Engineer's sure he follows suit.

#hi science party post for the first time in 16 years youre all welcome (visibly frothing at the mouth)#tf2 engineer #tf2 medic #science party #bird brains #genetic engineering #god ive spent so much time away from these eggheads i dont even remember which ship tag i normally use #tf2 #bungus snippets #engiemedic

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joshsjipple · 19 days

Text

Safe Measures

JOSH KISZKA X FEMALE READER

A/N: Hey beauties! I hope you’re all doing fantastic! I love you all, hope you enjoy some josh!

Word Count: 3.1k

WARNINGS: 18+ MINORS DNI! explicit sexual content, pain kink, small sir kink, unprotected sex (wrap before u tap), slapping, choking, p in v, oral sex (f recieve), praise, dirty talk, degradation, public sex, exhibitionism, squirting, language, dom (m) sub (f).

⋆⁺｡˚⋆˙‧₊☽ ◯ ☾₊‧˙⋆˚｡⁺⋆

You stare at the man hunched over his notebook in front of you. His eyebrows are furrowed, sand-colored curls dusting over them. He pulls his bottom lip between his perfectly white teeth, tugging on the skin as he intensely studies his material.

You shift in your seat quietly, resting your chin on the palm of your hand. You lazily drag your eyes over your book just incase Josh is disturbed by your movement and tosses a glance your way. You doubt he would even care but you do it anyway.

Eventually, your eyes find his face again. His dark eyes glare into the pages of his anatomy book as he mumbles under his breath. You watch his fingers twirl a pen in circles and for a brief moment your mind attempts to imagine what else he would be good at.

You swallow and squeeze your eyelids shut in hopes of shooing the thoughts away before your whole chair is soaked. When you return to Josh’s insanely sculpted face, he is furiously jotting down notes.

Dressed in a white t-shirt, his arms are in your line of sight. You watch the muscles in his hands that run all the way up to his bicep emerge from their hiding spot.

You shift in your seat, rolling your hips in a motion that will only satisfy you for a minute. Your chair creaks from under you and you grit your teeth. Josh pauses and tilts his head slightly upward, just enough to give you the death stare of your life. You only give him an apologetic smile and mentally curse yourself for getting turned on by him being upset with you.

Josh continues jotting down notes and you continue pretending to help. You brush your hair over your face to make it appear like you’re studying as well but in reality you’re watching him. He’s laser focused on his notes. His red tongue darts out from out of his mouth and rests between his lips. His jaw—already freakishly chiseled— clenches at his work. He tilts his head, hands still writing, and mumbles under his breath. You lose yourself when he runs his tongue over his bottom lip. Under the damp glow of the desk light, the slight trail of saliva coating his flesh adds to your fantasy.

You shift in your seat again, another squeak accompanying you. He doesn’t look this time. Or the next time. Or the time after that. By the 3rd time you’ve caused the painful screech of the chair to echo through the room, his eyes flick up to yours again.

“Are you just going to sit there and make noise all night?” He quips, letting his pencil roll into the crevice of his book.

A bit startled, you take your time to reply. “Sorry.”

“Is something wrong with your chair? How many times do you need to readjust yourself—”

His words trail off making you bury your hands in your lap as a brief wave of silence washes over the two of you. The air is thicker now, like he’s somehow trapped in your mind, reading your thoughts and seeing your imagination. You feel hot and red, your core damp between your legs.

“I see,” he says after a few moments of impending torture.

He clears his throat and rests his arms on the edge of the table. Your eyes flick from him to the floor, undecided on where to stay. The table squeaks when he leans forward to close some distance between the two of you.

Immediately your eyes find his.

“What?” You spit out after he fails to speak.

His eyes dart across every inch of your face, inspecting and soaking up every pore. He reads you like a book, every word, every line, every individual character. When he’s done, he smirks and uses his thumb to gently circle the skin on your chin.

“Josh—”

“Hm?” He asks, his voice silky and smooth. “Something bothering you?”

Your lips part and his eyes watch them closely. “What do you mean?”

He playfully rolls his eyes, clicking his tongue in the process. “Don’t play games. I’m not in the mood, mama.”

The nickname sends goosebumps cascading across your skin. Your eyes widen but you quickly recover. The rest of your body is flaming hot and you squeeze your thighs again.

“There it is again,”

“Sit back down. You’re imagining things,” your voice shakes.

“I can feel your body heat from here. If I had a marshmallow I’m pretty sure I could roast it,”

Your cheeks are flaming as you choke back a laugh. He giggles softly, the most gentle thing you’ve ever heard him release. Your breathing hitches as your eyes connect again. It’s now that you can see the lust and desire that drowns in them.

His fingers—perched on your chin— drag your face upwards slightly to meet his lips. They brush against yours at first, along with his nose. Your eyes flutter shut as he presses them against you more firmly. His lips are warm and soft as they gently work across yours. He opens his mouth just enough to give you a taste of his saliva. It’s sweet like honey, making you want to drown in the sticky liquid until you’re covered in nothing but him.

When your mind finally processes what the fuck is going on, you pull away first. Despite only kissing for two seconds, you’re extremely out of breath. Then again, maybe it's his hand cupping your cheek that has you spiraling.

“Josh we shouldn’t,” you say unconvincingly.

“Why not?”

“We’re in a library.” You scoff.

“A private room. The hallway lights are shut off, they forgot about us. If someone comes up the stairs they will flicker on and we will know,” he talks softly into your face, thumb still stroking your skin. “Besides, I think it turns you on a bit.”

“What?” You respond rather quickly.

“You’re panting and I’ve barely touched you.” He blushes even though his eyes are filled to the brim with cockiness. “You like the idea of being seen doing something we aren’t supposed to?”

Caught in your own trap, you swallow and hunt for something else to say. “What about anatomy? We have a test tomorrow and—”

“Okay. We’ll study.” He agrees but he doesn’t move. “But first can you stand up for me?”

Confused, you rise to your feet. Josh sits on the edge of the table, a shit-eating smirk on his face. Quickly, his hands fall on your waist. He pulls you into him, parting his own legs to grant you access. You don’t protest despite your words from a few seconds ago. When you’re standing over him, you bring your hands to his hair. You can’t help but softly fluff his curls. He whines slightly when you accidentally tug on a few strands, making your knees wobble. With his big brown eyes staring into yours, you lean down and kiss him again. You’re so desperate to feel his skin against yours again. He smiles against the kiss, his hand finding its place around the back of your neck. His other hand wanders down to your ass and squeezes it. You reply with a soft moan and reward him with a light tug of his hair. With that, his hands dart to the front of your waist to work insanely fast undoing the buttons. Then he pushes you backwards a bit, giving him room to stand in front of you.

He spins you so the back of your legs are pressed against the table as his were a second ago. His tongue enters your mouth, exploring the area as his teeth pulling on your lip. He begins to work your pants down until they rest on your knees. Swiftly, he spins you around so your back is pressed firm against his chest. You feel his breathing hitch as his hand wraps loosely around your neck. You feel yourself begin to spill down your leg and with a whine you say:

“Harder,”

He obeys quickly, squeezing with enough force to knock the wind out of you but careful enough he doesn’t hurt you. His breath dances across your skin as his mouth nears your ear.

“I’m gonna fuck you into this table. But first I’m gonna play with you.” He rasps.

With no warning, you’re bent across the table. It’s cold pressed against the thin material of your shirt, making you yelp in pleasure. The hand that Josh used to guide you into the position dances down your back before smacking your ass cheek.

“Oh fuck!” You moan.

“Oh yeah? You like that, pretty girl?” He smacks the same area again and you cry in pleasure.

He sinks to his knees, pulling your panties and pants all the way off your feet. His hands massage your calves as he kisses up your body, worshiping every inch like it’s sacred. His warm tongue arouses you as it drags across the back side of your legs. You’re already squirming.

His hands sit between your legs now, gently prying them apart to his liking. Josh takes the tip of his finger and drags it through your folds and your body jumps at the contact.

“You’re soaked. So fucking wet for me, yeah? Tell me how wet this pretty fucking pussy is for me.”

You gather your strength. “So wet for you. Please do something.”

“How could I ever say no,” he says in a soft tone.

When his tongue licks a stripe through your folds, you feel yourself begin to evaporate. Flattening your hands on the surface, you allow the pleasure to engulf you. His tongue, as soft as silk, toys with your clit. He swirls the flesh in his mouth, repeating every motion that makes you whine into the room.

His fingers dig into the skin of your thighs, holding you open for his own pleasure. He eats you out like it’s the only thing he has ever wanted to do. He flicks your bud with his tongue before pulling it into his mouth with his lips. He kneads it between the skin, earning pathetic whimpers from you.

“So good, Josh. Just like that,” you encourage, reaching behind to wrap your hands in his hair.

He moans at the praise, sending vibrations straight to your clit. Fire burns in your core and your teeth violently attack your bottom lip to keep yourself from screaming. When he inserts a finger, you know you’re a goner.

You’re grinding against his face, cursing and moaning with every stroke his tongue makes. He continues to make noise into your pussy, getting off on your own enjoyment. His tongue toys at your entrance, circling the hole wishing it was his cock. You grind onto his tongue, ecstasy taking over your body as you ride out your orgasm. You eyes go black, stars shooting. Electricity spiraling down your body, making your legs fall limp. Josh catches you and holds you above him, using your weakness of knees to his advantage. You sit directly on his face, giving him better access to your dripping cunt. You ride out your orgasm, cursing and chanting his name until you physically cannot form any more words. When you’ve finished, he removes himself from under you but keeps his hands tightly wrapped around your legs. You pant as he stands to his feet, hands gripping your waist so you don’t fall.

“Oh my god,” you breathe.

“So pretty when you cum on my face. It’s unreasonable to think I’ll have to eat anything besides that ever again.” he coos, helping you onto your back.

Laying in front of him, he kisses your neck. You expose more flesh to him by removing your shirt. His hands quickly find your breasts, squeezing the fat softly. His thumbs spin across the peak, making your mouth fall open in pleasure. His hard cock is pressed right over your soaked cunt and he rolls his hips into you. Still sensitive, you yelp into his shoulder.

“You sound like heaven,” he whispers. “Keep singing for me, yeah? Be a good girl for me.”

“Josh— I need more,”

He tilts his head and slowly grinds into you, making your eyes roll back. “Really? You hated my guts ten minutes ago.”

“Well now I want you in mine so don’t screw this up, okay?” You try to sound confident with your words as if you’d truly get up and leave.

Josh only laughs at your words and rolls his hips again before wrapping his hand firmly around your neck. He squeezes, making you lose your breath. Despite his tough exterior, you know he wouldn’t dream of hurting you.

“That’s not how this is going to work.” He clicks his tongue in disapproval that makes your cunt cry. “You’re gonna shut this pretty little mouth of yours and take whatever I give you, okay?”

“Yes,” you answer when he lifts his hand.

You’re shocked and completely aroused as he brings his hand across your cheek. It stings enough to make you moan. You never knew you were into pain during sex, but you’d let him do anything to you. The way he does it, so careful yet firm, makes everything feel so intimate. It turns you on more than you’d have ever thought.

“Yes what?” He quips.

“Yes sir.”

“Good girl,” he purrs.

Pushing himself off of you, he works his jeans off. Pulling them down just above his knees, you’re able to marvel at him. He’s rock hard, straining against his boxers. A small wet spot rests on the fabric from where his precum leaks. You watch him wince as he pulls down his boxers, his cock bouncing up. Noticing your staring, he smirks and takes himself into his palm.

“See something you like?” You lick your lips. “Ask nicely for it.”

You’re a bit taken back by his words. You’ve never had to beg for a man, especially in a sexual scene. Your cunt throbs with anticipation. Josh is bringing out a side of you that you didn’t know existed.

“I want it,” you start, holding your tongue in fear of embarrassing yourself.

“What? I can’t hear you, mama. Gonna have to speak up.”

Mama.

“I want your cock, Josh. Want it so bad,”

“Keep going,”

You watch his fist work over his length, stroking slowly and squeezing as he nears the tip. With your legs spread, you slide your fingers over yourself.

“I need you to fill me up, baby. God you’re so big and perfect. Please fuck me. I want to feel you in me.”

Josh watches you play with yourself, hand gradually picking up the pace on his cock. He watches you, eyes flickering to your face and then back down to your pussy as you speak.

“Let me suck it,” you whine pathetically.

“If you do, I won't last. Bend over this for me.”

He taps on the rim of the table and backs away. You scramble off the table, doing exactly as you’re told like a dog. Bent over the table once again, your nipples are rock hard.

“You’re perfect,” Josh says, lining himself up. “So pink and wet. All ready for me.”

He pushes the tip in, a hand squeezing your hips as the other guides himself in. He lets out a shaky breath as he slowly eases his way into you.

About halfway, he stops to speak, “You’re so fucking tight and warm. It’s like you were made for me.”

“More,” is all you say, cock-drunk.

Mercilessly, he slams into you, making you launch forward. Your breasts scrape across the table, making you whimper. His hands wrap around your waist and tug you back to him. He stretches you so deliciously as he thrusts in and out of you at a steady pace.

“Oh. My. God.” You cry with every thrust.

“Feels so good, mama. So good.”

Your eyes screw shut as he quickens his pace, skin on skin filling the room. “Tell me more.”

“So soft, like silk. So fucking tight, squeezing my cock so perfectly. Fuck. I’ve thought about this for so long—bending you over a table and fucking you senseless praying no one walks in—or maybe praying someone does walk in.”

You tighten around him at the thought.

“I knew you liked it. You want someone to see how good I fuck your pussy? How I make you beg for my cock to fill you up? You want someone to see how slutty you are?”

His hips buck violently into you, hands finding your throat to pull you up. Strained, your back is against his chest again. He continues fucking you as his lips enclose around your ear lobe.

“Answer me.”

“Yes! Fuck, yes!”

“Yes what?” He sucks on your neck.

“Yes I want to be seen! I want everyone to know who’s cock I’m cumming on!”

“Oh, God.” He pants. Burying his face in the crook of your neck, he attaches his fingers to your clit. “Need you to cum on my cock. I’m so close.”

“Me too. Keep going.”

“Ah, fuck. Where do you want me?” He says as his thrusts become sloppy.

“In me. Please.”

“So hot when you beg for my cum.” He cries as he falls over the edge.

You join him, crying his name as your legs shake. You feel him in you, squirting his cum into you. He whimpers and cries, making you explode again.

“Oh my god,” he whines, his hips gradually slowing. “Have you done that before?”

You heave in front of him, oblivious to his words. After a few minutes of nothing but you and Josh’s muffled breathing, he removes himself from you. He takes a step back until his entire torso is exposed to your eyes. Your jaw drops when your eyes find his shirt completely soaked.

“Jesus…”

“It was hot. I didn’t know you could do that,”

You quirk your head. “Me either… sorry.”

“Fuck. Don’t apologize,” he smiles, grabbing your hand to help you off the table.

“So now what?” You ask, cheeks red. “I’m too messy to put my clothes on like this.”

Josh nods as he examines your body. “I’ll go downstairs and bring up some paper towels. I’ll make sure the place is empty before you come down.”

You can’t help the bubbly laugh that fires in your chest. “If anyone was in the building, I think they would have heard us.”

“Probably, yeah. But for safe measures.” He shrugs.

“Yeah. Safe measures”

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#greta van fleet #jake kiszka smut #jake kiszka #josh kiszka smut #josh kiszka #sam kiszka #greta van fleet smut #josh kiszka fic #josh gvf #sam kiszka gvf #josh kiskza fanfic #josh kiskza smut

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carionto · 4 months

Text

The duality of Man, or triality? quadrality?

Alien to Human about New Human: Correct me if I'm wrong, but they appear abnormally large for your species?

H: Yea, he's a biggun alright, even without the EV suit I'd say... 7'3'', 310 pounds, bet he power lifts.

A: Umm... not to be rude, but, uhh... he seems, well... how should I put this...

H: Intimidating? Terrifying? Evil? Yea, if this station didn't have high screening standards I'd be totally pissing myself if he started walking towards me. The mohawk and eye tat totally make me believe he could snap me in two with a single glare.

A: I feel ashamed that my instincts are telling me to flee. I wish nature were easier to change.

H (shouting at NH): Hey buddy! Could you come over here for a minute please? You look awesome by the way!

A (whispering nervously): what are you doing?!?

H: Gotta overcome those fears somehow, I believe the best way is a direct confrontation.

NH approaches, somewhat slowly, looking around at all the other aliens in the station that are chatting, waiting around, or doing some work. He finally approaches A and H, and in a very deep and husky voice says: Um, hi, hello. T-thanks for the compliment, I, uh, was a little worried I would stand out too much here.

H: Oh you totally do, my friend over here is practically about to pass out from how much like a gothic viking of death metal you look.

NH: Oh no, I'm so sorry, I-I just grew up in Sweden-Delta and both my parents were huge into classic local music, so I just, uh... it's complicated. I'm sorry, I didn't mean to scare anyone.

H: Hey, relax pal, we're all good people here. Anyway, what you here to do? I'm planning on starting a bakery, still testing out what kind of flour most species here can actually stomach. My friend here is on the team working on Moon theft preventative measures.

NH: Oh, that's cool. I'm here as an exchange student with the department of applied astrophysics. If all goes well, I can finish my Bachelors degree remotely and stay here as an intern with the head researcher.

H: Oooh, that's cool. (so cool yea that you're apparently half my age but oh well guess I'm a big fat time waster like my father before me and oh god change the subject before I get depressed in front of strangers) That's a real big bag you got there, carrying some super secret science things, eh?

NH: Oh, that... uhh... guess it can't hurt to tell, security vetted it already anyway.

NH proceeds to unzip the bag and hold up a large white piece of clothing with light blue rings and accents, alongside a strange white cap with what looked like small fins, and a curious little backpack.

NH: It's uhh... um... my... Ika... musume... cosplay.... (oh gods I can't believe I said it out loud again)

After a moment of awkward silence, NH slowly puts on the backpack and presses a button on it's strap, and suddenly numerous light blue colored tentacle-like appendages sprout out from the backpack and move in line with NH's movements.

NH: I, uh..., got my engineering friend to make them articulate and interface with my contacts. I can make them do all sorts of things, like make various shapes and animals with them, though works best as a shadow theater.

H:...

NH:...

A now frozen out of confusion than fear:...

H: That's so

NH: (oh I know it's so lame, but I love that show)-

H: COOL! I don't know what a ika musume is, but those things look amazing. You said articulate? How precise can they be? I'd love to have something like that instead of my useless assistant. Poor lad can't make a piece of toast if his life depended on it...

NH: Y-you like it?

H: I LOVE those things. My daughter does cosplay too sometimes, but she makes her Dreadnought suits herself from scraps. One time the military came to our house and installed a limiter on the gauss cannon she found in a crash site, said it would otherwise start to generate small doses of radiation if used too frequently. But she replaced it with a handmade rail gun before the next convention. Do you go to those? Did you see a 7 meter tall hulking metal monstrosity with a bunch of candles all over? That was her.

NH: Oh, I think I've seen video of that, but no, not in person, I go to smaller events. I don't really like big crowds.

H: Oh yea, I get ya, you do seem a bit on the shy side now that we've been talking for a bit. Hey, no worries, like I said, we're all good people here.

NH: T-thanks, but I think I should be going now, the teacher is calling me over.

H: Oh yea, go ahead, didn't mean to take up so much of your time. Have a fun stay and I'm sure you'll ace that paper or theory? Or whatever astrophysicists do, you seem like a solid kid.

NH: Oh, uh, thanks. Good luck with your bakery. And you with stopping those weird people from stealing more moons. Bye.

H: Bye bye, come visit, don't be a stranger now, I'm set up just a short bit from the main lift on floor 14.

NH: R-right, I'll, uh, be sure to stop by soon.

A is finally able to process what they just heard and says: What was all that just now?

H: What? Just a friendly chat with what is apparently basically a kid. Man, this kid's got so much going on, while I'm almost 50 and I have an oven. Life, man, it can go in so many ways. Anyway, let's go grab a drink, I'm parched.

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luimagines · 4 months

Note

ALRIGHT SO first meeting but either the boys or the reader let's slip a 'god you're beautiful' or something real nice and cheese like that

🐰

Yes. Yes! Yes! You got it Bunny!!!!!!

Masterlist

Content under the cut!

Legend

If he had to be honest with himself, he wasn't paying attention.

Sure they had managed to walk into the inn of the local town and get themselves from rooms for the night - but then Warrior decided to go to the nearest pub to collect information about their newest destination. Granted, it wasn't a bad idea. Legend just couldn't care less for it.

So as they all ate and drank to their heart content, making conversations with staff and other patrons of the pub, Legend was willing to keep to himself for a change.

"Papa!" Someone called out. A new comer came in, b-lining directly towards the bartender of the joint. They were stunning and Legend poured his drink onto his lap because of it.

He jumped, groaning and instantly annoyed that he was sidetracked enough where that happened. Now it looks like he pissed his tunic. Great. Hopefully it'll dry before he has to get up again. He does not have the patience to deal with explaining himself right now.

Legend looks over to you again, putting his drink on the table for safe measures.

The bartender appeared to be your father and he happily indulged in conversation with you before he caught that Legend was staring. He perked up and shrunk down, embarrassed over being blatantly caught.

He couldn't find the nerve to look up again and keep his gaze to his lip, hoping that he doesn't make a fool of himself.

"Here." You walked up and put a plate of food in front of him. You didn't hesitate to sit next to him. "For you."

Legend felt like he was caught in a trap. The tips of his ears went pink and his mouth gaped softly.

You bite your lip, not expecting his lack of response. You waited a few seconds to see if he'd say anything and apparently felt awkward enough to continue the script in your head anyway. "I know you didn't order anything. It's on the house."

Legend look down to the food. It looked good, but now that you were right nest to him, Legend could make out more details about you.

You laughed awkwardly. "Are you... going to say anything or...?"

"You're beautiful." He whispered.

You froze and blushed a brilliant red color.

Legend coughed and looked away. He can't believe he just said that. Loser. "Hey." He looked to you, pushing the plate in your direction slightly. "Share it?"

You cleared your throat and nodded. "Y-yeah... I'd like that."

Sky

He was dead on his feet.

After relentless travel, spearheaded by the Hero of Time, he was ready to call it a day and end it. But then more monsters attacked and a portal opened and a new person joined in the "fun".

He sighed and tried to focus. He kept to the back of the group so that he wouldn't seem too rude to the new person.

The others quickly started to question everything they could about you. Where were you from? Why did you got through the portal? what do you know about the hero?

He could hear that you had no idea what the Hero of Courage was. You have a little brother named Link. Your brother was five. And you went through the portal in an attempt to keep their brother at home.

Given that the portal had closed behind you, Sky thought it was safe to say that you completed your goal.

He shook himself awake again. Vaguely, he was aware that he was more of less going to have to introduce himself. But he could not be bothered to talk to more people today. It's not the fault of this new person, but he really just wanted to take a nap.

As he expected, he saw each of the others speak up and say their dumb nicknames that he found amusing and slowly (but surely) you made your way toward him.

He tried to put a smile on his face for your sake.

Might as well get it over with, Sky sighed and slapped his face a few times to look alive. When you got close to him, seeming to also want to make your way to the back of group, he stuck out his hand. "Hi there, welcome to the team. My name is Link, but I think you knew that already. You can call me Sky, the others do."

You stare at him. It doesn't seem to register that he's spoken to you.

He tries to keep his pleasant smile on his face. Please tell him that you're not a weirdo... Unless he seemed like the weirdo? He can't do people right now. Can't this be a little easier on his brain right now?

He slowly puts his hand down.

"You have a name, stranger?" He tries again, hoping to end the conversation quickly.

"You're beautiful."

Sky is suddenly very much awake. And flattered. He starts to laugh. It takes him a minute to calm down, his sour mood instantly lifted. He wipes a tear from his eye, not even remotely worried about crazy he might have seemed. "Well, Beautiful, it's a pleasure to meet you."

Given by the way you seem to be horrified with yourself, he can safely assume that you're going to fast friends.

Four

When Four walked through this poor provincial town, he wasn't expecting much. There was a shop here, a school there and the main market place where farmers would sell or trade their harvest and wares.

It wasn't much to snuff at but it was an honest place. He walked around without much of a destination in mind. He was supposed to be gathering information but he didn't want to run the place through and then be left with nothing to do later in the day. Besides, the others were also gathering information. Between all of them, they could cover this town three times over in an afternoon at their rate. There's no need t do that to the locals.

With that in mind, he took to exploring.

Four was tempted to look for the local blacksmith and see if there was anything he could learn or impart of his knowledge of the trade. If he could stock up on a few more personal items, that would also be accepted.

As luck would have it, he was so lost in his thoughts that he wasn't watching where he was going and collided fully onto some poor unsuspecting person, spilling their very hot tea over the both of them.

He's been more happy to wear as many layers as he does.

"Oh, oh, oh, oh. OW. Oh man. I'm sorry." You grabbed your shirt and fluffed it away from your body. Clearly you took the worst of it. You were so distracted by the pain that you didn't even look up to see him. "I wasn't watching where I was going. I'm so sorry. Are you ok? Are you hurt?"

Four shook his head, doing the same thing with his tunic. He's going t have to wash this now. "No, no. I'm ok. You should go get some ice or something. That looks like it hurts."

"It was fresh. I didn't want-" You look at him finally and click your mouth shut.

The sudden change startles Four and he takes a hesitant step towards you. "Everything alright? I'm serious you should go change and check that out."

"You're very beautiful."

Four also comes to a screeching halt.

You're both staring at each other as the seconds pass. Fierce lushes suddenly cover both of your faces.

You gasp and look away in horror. "I'm sorry. I just spilled hot tea over the new hot guy. I'm sorry. I'll leave. Goodbye. May we never meet again."

Four blinks and watches you run away. He brain seems to kick back into gear after that. "Hey... Hey wait! Come back!"

He runs after you.

Wind

Wind ran through the portal as fast as his legs could carry him. A new place! A new Hyrule! A new time! It was all so exiting! He couldn't wait to see what was on the other side.

When he sees the world around him, he takes a minute to breath in the area. Then he coughs, choking on the air.

Sure the place looked green and clean, but it smelt like rot and moldy water. Gross.

"Ah- You're not from here, aren't you?" You walk out from behind a tree. The others, who were both in front of him and behind him, turn to look at you. You're around his age, he realizes and very very pretty.

His mouth goes dry and he forgets how to breathe. Wind is star struck. You seem giggle at his face, taking his shock for surprise over your sudden appearance. "Sorry, I hid when the portal opened but you don't seem so bad."

Legend brushes down his tunic and juts his thumbs behind him. "You were already here? Did you see where the big black lizard went? We gotta catch him."

You nod, keeping your hands to your chest. You point to your left. "He went that way."

"Did he see you?" Hyrule asks. You shake your head. "Good. You acted quickly. He's very dangerous. Is he heading into a nearby town?"

You shake your head again. "My village is that way." You point behind you, the opposite way the lizard went.

The group relaxes a little and adjusts their weaponry. Time whistles and gestures for the group to get moving. "Let's go boys. It couldn't have gotten far."

Wind looks over to Time before looking back over to you. You seem to catch on now that he was staring at you the entire time and grow shy. "What?"

"You're beautiful." Wind whispers, smiling. "My name is Link, what's yours?"

You blush and tell him your name. With a flourish, Wind bows. "Then when we come back! I'll meet you first."

He comes up with a pirate's smirk before Warrior starts calling for him. Wind looks to the group and rolls his eyes- but he winks in your direction. "Coming!"

You giggle and waves to him, watching him leave. What a strange boy. But he wasn't so bad, now was he?

Wild

Wild was walking along side Epona as they all traveled through the newest portal.

He, along with the Rancher, did their best to keep calm and to keep her calm. This portal was no different from the others, but there was no telling what was on the other side.

When sunlight finally reached his eyes again, it was blinding. Much different from the darkness of the forest they were coming from. It looks like they were dropped off in the middle of Hyrule field. But the question wasn't 'where' but rather 'when'.

"Howdy!" Someone called out from the distance. The familiar gallop of a horse reached his ears as you rode closer to them. "Did you cause that strange purple thing in the middle of my property?"

"Property?" Twilight echoed. Like the others, they quickly engaged with conversation with you, but Wild found himself stunned.

Wild's jaw dropped at the sight of you. Your hair looked so incredibly soft and shiny. Your eyes were bright and lovely. What a beautiful color. He might have the gem to match it in his sheikah slate if he bothered to look for it. And your nose! He's never seen a shape quite like that before, with the jawline to match to boot.

"Wild?"

He couldn't even register that he was staring. His hand landed on his sheikah slate but he didn't unhook it. What is he even trying to do? Match your eyes to that gem? Take a picture? Offer you a flower? Would you like flowers? Pretty flower for a pretty person, right? Would that be weird?

"Wild?"

He gulped slightly and found himself unable keep his posture straight and steady anymore. He heart was beating faster. He's never seen someone so drop dead gorgeous before. And your outfit... It hugged all your dips and curves perfectly.

"Champion!" Twilight shook his shoulder. "They asked for your name."

"Your name?" Wild couldn't keep his eyes off of you. "You're beautiful."

"No-!" Twilight groans.

You take it in stride, your cheeks flushing a soft pink color. You repeat your name and smile. "I certainly wouldn't mind you called me beautiful though. Do I all you handsome then?"

"I have no complaints." Wild smiled and held his hand out for you to shake. It doesn't seem to click at all in his head that he's a little beyond typical greeting protocol. "My name is Link. It's a pleasure to meet you."

You laugh and hop off of your horse, shaking his hand. "The pleasure's all mine."

Warrior

Warrior sighed and ruffled his hair as quickly as he could to get the frustration out. They had traveled all day with nothing to show for it. No new information, not new leads, no new portals and there was hardly any infected monsters to at least let them know they were going in the right direction.

He knew, realistically, that sometime these things happen. He was equipped and trained to make the best of any situation and to still win at the end of the day.

That doesn't make it any less annoying though.

He walks into the local inn, ready to check out some room and leave with his wallet significantly lighter.

He sees you there, wiping down the main counter, keys on display in the background. Warrior walks up the entire way. You don't notice him, seemingly to focused on your current job of cleaning with a vengeance. He knows the look. You're stuck in your thoughts, having an argument with something that's never going to see the light of day.

He dings the bell gently. "Got room for nine?"

You gasp and jump, snapping your head to him. He tries to be as disarming as possible, putting on his best smile.

You clutch your hand to your heart and take in a breath. Warrior feels a little bad for startling you but there was little he do if you didn't notice him for that long.

He opens his mouth to repeat his question but you speak first.

"Oh, you're beautiful."

Warrior clicks his mouth shut.

Another beat passes before you seem to realize what you just said. Your face explodes into color and you scramble to remedy the situation. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. Ignore me. I've been all over the place today. How many? Just you?"

You dives for the keys, trying to get a room for one.

Warrior puts his hands up and shakes his head. "I'm in a group of nine. I was just curious if you had the room here."

You seem to still be frazzled. "Yes... Yes! We have the room! Do you all want to be in the same place? I can rent you three rooms in a row. Only two of them have three beds, the one on the end only has two. It would be one short."

"They don't have to be connected." Warrior smiles softly, feeling less like his past is haunting him and more like he's caught you more off guard than either of you want to admit.

"Perfect. Perfect. Right. Here." You hand him the keys and look down, both ashamed and embarrassed over your innocent blunder.

He can't help but smile more genuinely. Usually when people comment on his looks, they don't react apologetically.

"My name is Link. What's yours?" He leans on the counter.

Your face burns brighter as you mumble your name. Warrior repeats it back effortlessly. "Lovely. It's a pleasure to meet you."

You cover your face with your hands. "I swear I'm better than this. You've caught me on an off day."

"I could tell. If looks could kill, this counter would have burst into flames long before I ever walked in." Warrior chuckles.

You only seem more embarrassed.

Despite himself, Warrior likes this. He doesn't seem to mind the attention so much if it's coming from you.

Hyrule

Hyrule looked around the market place as the group walked through it. He was supposed to stick close to the group and not get distracted but he couldn't help it.

He simply didn't have places like this back home. There was so many people. So many new smells. So many sounds... Maybe too many sounds- but the trade off made sense in his mind.

He quickly got distracted once more by a small booth that appeared to be selling jewelry and the like. There were metal wraps and wood pieces and some that looked like were made of bone. There was no way he was going to see something like that and not get a closer look.

He kept his bag close to his body, gripping the edges of his tunic tightly. He looked over each item, wondering if it was ok to touch them.

"Oh, good to see you're back!" A voice called from beside him, making itself home in the other spot the booth provided.

"Of course I'm back!" The seller replied joyfully. "There's too much business here to leave this town without my presence."

You laughed and Hyrule finally turned to look at you fully.

His breath caught in his throat. He'd never seen anyone like you. Your eyes rivaled the gems on the table with their shine and hue. He finds himself gulping slightly. "...You're beautiful."

Your laughter dies as you turn to him, finally noticing him beside you. Your face slowly turn to one of shock and a slightly blush.

Hyrule can't register that he's made things awkward. He's too captivated by you. He licks his lips with the tip of his tongue and blinks. The spell's been broken and it's as if his breath returns to him all at once.

Hyrule takes a step back and flushes darker than you. "I'm sorry. I don't know what came over me."

He clears his throat and nods to the seller, ready to run away from the encounter. That could not have been any weirder. What's wrong with him? At least he's not staying in this town for long. You would never have to meet again. But he knows this is going to haunt him.

Your arm reaches out before you can stop it. "Wait... Can I at least know your name?"

Hyrule bite his lip. "L-link... My name is Link. Nice to meet you."

You smile softly and introduce yourself as well. "Well, Link, that was might kind of you to say.... You might actually be the first person to tell me that. Thank you."

Hyrule can feel his eyes bulge out of his head. Him? The first? Impossible! You're stunning! He was sure you would have hear dthat all the time.

If anything, this only serves to fluster him more. He covers his mouth with his hand and look away. "Sorry."

"Don't apologize! It just took my by surprise."

Hyrule looks to the seller. They have an expectant look on their face. Hyrule feels like he should do something but he's not sure what. "Um... Do you... want to go for a walk?"

Is he lame? Could he not think of anything better?

You bite your lip, clearly amused. "You know what... I don't usually do this, but I don't seem to mind this time around."

"Cool..." Hyrule looks away, scratching the back of his neck. I smile boyishly. "Awesome, actually."

Time

They had just walked out the newest portal to an unknown land. Time looked around the area with the rest of the boys, taking is as much as he could to try and pin point their current location, even if it was lost to time.

At this point it was standard procedure. Everything was more or less what he was expecting to come from it. What he wasn't expecting was when they ran into you more or less right away.

You had seemingly locked onto him- ignoring the rest of the group as they asked you questions.

Time raised an eyebrow in your direction, silently wondering what was your deal. It seemed to be the wrong move. Your face grew red and you looked away from him for a moment, suddenly remembering that there were other people around you.

You cleared your throat and once again tried to answer their questions the best you could. Your home was nearby but the nearest village was further away. It was just you, your grandpa and your little sister. You haven't heard anything about monsters or their increasing aggressiveness. It seems your life has been peaceful up until they showed up.

Time sighs and whistles, getting the boys to stop hounding you for more information. "That's enough. We'll move on and look for different troubles. No need to antagonize them."

You also sigh and relax a little as the boys back off. Time watches as Warrior does a quick head count once more and begins to take the point, leading them away, apologizing for any undue stress they may have caused.

You wave them off with a pleasant smile.

Time stays behind a little longer. He bows as he retreats and also apologizes. He knows the boys can be enough to fluster anyone. "Forgive them, truly. It seems time on the road can have one forgetting their manners."

You fluster further. "It's alright. I didn't mind it. Yours?"

Time pauses and laughs. "Some. But not all. I'm not that old yet."

"Right. Of course some are yours, you're beautiful- I mean. Right! You're right! Not that old. I guess. Um!" You take a step back, looking about as embarrassed as he feels.

Time coughs, feeling his own face light up. Is that why you were staring at him earlier? You thought he was beautiful?

He smiles and takes your hand, kissing your knuckles. He looks up and gives you a wink. "I'm single."

"O-h." You flush, putting your hand over your heart.

"I'll come back to talk to you more if the heavens allow it."

"...'kay..."

Twilight

A portal opened right next to their camp as they rested for lunch. Hands snapped to their weapons as they all took a defensive stance in the direction of the portal.

They were waiting for whoever was going to come through the other side, not willing to hesitate to attack whatever was about to greet them.

Wild pulled his bow back as the lights within wobbled but a human hand reached out first. Twilight put a hand on his shoulder to hold him from firing.

An arm followed the hand, then the body and their figure.

Twilight as if he was struck dumb in that moment.

You looked around and jumped back in shock at their aggressive profiles. Your hands tightened on the strap you held by your shoulder and gulped. "Um... hi..."

Warrior raised an eyebrow and pointed his sword in your direction. Twilight jerked, as if in motion to stop him. Warrior doesn't see that. "Who are you?"

You state your name with a slight stutter.

"What brings you here?" Legend asks next, also not willing to let his suspicion down. "Don't you know you should walk through random portals you don't know where they go?"

Hyrule coughs and looks away. Wind snickers in the background.

You poke the ground with your toe and blush. "Nothing ventured, nothing gained right?"

Wild laughs and puts his weapon down. "I like you already."

"Ok, we can all calm down now." Sky sighs. "Right?"

"Not quite." Warrior glares harder.

You shimmy in your spot. Twilight walks forward and tries to calm the situation. You watch him cautiously.

Twilight turns to you and can feel himself already getting distracted. How can someone's skin look so soft? Your hair was so shiny. What a beautiful color you have in your eyes... He felt himself being slowly pulled in.

"Twilight?"

"You're beautiful." He says, ignoring whatever they might have been calling his attention for.

You blush harder and cover your mouth with your hand. Many snickers throughout the group are heard and he thinks that Time is somewhere behind him with his face in his hands, but he's still too busy staring at you to register that maybe he shouldn't have said that.

"...Thank you..." You reply in a quiet voice, smiling softly. And oh, isn't that a sight for sore eyes...

Twilight smiles back at you, a little breathless from the visage in front of him. "You're welcome."

#linked universe #linked universe x reader #linkeduniverse #lu x reader #in the background for Legend's part #unseen #is a very proud and smug bartender #a.k.a. dad knew what he was doing

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curvykittyyssmutfics · 2 months

Text

Dad's Best Friend ft. Kishibe

dbf!Kishibe who's been your father's bff for over 25 years and loves you more than anything in the world: Coddles and shows you a gross amount of affection, like you're not a whole grown ass woman. Let's you plop in his lap evertime he comes over for a drink, ignoring your father's taunts bout your neediness. Dark eyes glued the tv, absentmindely rubbing circles on your back as you nuzzle into his neck. Ignorant to the sheer will it takes you not grind onto his soft cock. "Okay there, sweets? You keep squirming.. Won me ta hold you closer?" You nod, warmth spreading through your body when Kishibe tightens his embrace.

dbf!Kishibe isn't big on conversation but thinks it's adorable how you ramble on about any and everything to him: Just random shit. From your favorite celeb gossip to simple girl talk, you keep his attention for hours. Only his girl can get him caught up on the most recent trash reality tv shows that he never intends to watch. Unless you ask him to of course. Kishibe lends a honest ear, asks questions, and provides commentary when needed. "Baby, I can't be the only person you got to talk to right now. Its 2am. Know I have work early in the mornin." He groans from his end of the phone. "Yeah, but I haven't seen you inna few days. I miss youuu. Wanna hear your voice." Kishibe sighs. He knows that's only a half truth. Also knows he won't be gettin off the phone anytime soon. "That right? Think you just wanna tell me what happened on the next episode of.. What was it?" He teases. "It's called Baddies! See? You never listen!" Kishibe rolls his eyes. "Uh huh. That must be why you on my line right now. tsk. Go on and tell me what happened on ya lil show before I go to sleep on yo ass." "Okay, okay! Geez.."

dbf!Kishibe has always treated you like his princess, but you're older now, and very aware of his Queen treatment: All begins when he notices you real down for a few days. Doesnt wanna pry so he starts wakin you up to compliments and affirmations through text. Even as a man of few words, he thinks it's important you know how smart, kind and pretty you are. You're worth simply can't be measured to Kishibe, and he needs you to understand that. Doesn't care if your dad's around or who hears how special he thinks you are. "Fuckin aced my exam!" You exclaim one late afternoon, slidin through the kitchen after gettin back from uni. Kishibe and your father wait for you, posted at the breakfast bar. Kishibe arms squeeze tight inna hug while your dad opts for high five and small tickle to your side. "So fantastic, sweetheart! Knew you could do it. Always been too smart for your own good." Kishibe chuckles at your pout. "Know what? Let's go out. We gotta celebrate our girls milestone." But your dad scoffs. "Milestone? It's just a test, Kish. She takes em all time." "Dad, it's not just a test. I studied hard as hell for this one. It's a large chunk of my grade." Kishibe slings an arm round your shoulders, holdin up your exam papers before chiming in again. "Come on, old man. She passed with flying colors. Our girl could be a doctor or some shit. Never know. I say she deserves some special treatment." "Then you take her. Work drained all this old man's energy. I'm goin to sleep. Great job again, y/n. Proud of you." With a kiss to your forehead, he's off to bed. Kishibe doesn't let you wallow though. Pulls you in close to whisper in your ear. "Three's a crowd anyway, sweet thing. Go put on somethin black and tiny. Let's go do somethin fun tonight."

dbf!Kishibe only pretends to be oblivious to your little crush on him: He doesn't mind his gorgeous girl's longing stares or subtle flirting. Teases the fuck out you by purposefully acting clueless. Wants to see how far you'll go with your little infatuation. And it's a full time job. So Kishibe finds any reason to sleep over whenever he can. "Babygirl?" He calls for you naked and wet through the cracked bathroom door. "Bring me my towel, please. Left it on the bed." You comply, not realizing the treat you're in store for. Jaw dropping seeing his pretty dick for the first time. It's not hard but it's still so thick. A nice medium toned flesh colored shaft, mushroom tip dark pink and flaring wide. Its fuckin perfect. "H-here.. Here you go." "Thanks." Kishibe takes the towel, sexy grin appearin how your gaze never wavers from his cock. He's startin to stiffen- and drip more than water from your lusty stare . "Careful, honey. You're wakin the beast. Can't do that when your dad's around."

dbf!Kishibe loves to spoil you rotten: Takes you shoppin, gets your nails and hair done, puts gas in you car. Whatever you desire is at your finger tips. All you gotta do is flutter your lashes and pout your full lips and Kishibe is bending to your every will: "The fuck you need this for?" His words a nasty growl when you interrupt him workin on your dad's car to shove your phone into his face and show him a skimpy lavender lingerie set. "Thought you said pretty girls deserve pretty things." You whine, stomping your foot when Kishibe scoffs and bends under the hood to resume his task. "I'm not buyin that shit for you to show some lil fuck boy in your class, y/n." How dare he! You were absolutely repulsed by your first taste of fuck boy and only have eyes for him. "Not for anyone, Kishi. Just thought it would look good on me. Don't you?" He glances up, eyes raking over every inch of you. Fuck yeah, he does. Plus, Kishibe just can't take the soft vulnerable face you put on once he meets your gaze. Or the thought of that flimsy scrap of lace wrapped round your frame. "Fine, y/n." He takes his wallet out and tosses it to you. "You better get one in my favorite color- nah. Scratch that. Get one of each. And do same day shipping. I want a picture of it on you by tonight."

dbf!Kishibe does random pop ups when your left home alone for extended amounts of time: Knows your father works hard and promises to take good care of their little girl when he's away. Though this time, you don't expect him anytime soon since Kishibe texts he'll be comin by late tonight. When he finally does arrive, his idea of surprising you with your favorite dish doesn't quite go as planned. He let's himself in with the spare key and tip toes to your room but your not there. After a quick search, he finds you in the guest room and is stunned into silence. You're tangled in the sheets on your hands and knees, hardly covered in that damn pastel purple scrap of lace, slowly fuckin your puffy chocolate puss with a pink dildo. Clearly you hadn't washed the covers from Kishibe's overnight stay the way you inhale them, arch deepening and puttin your most delicate areas on display to his greedy gaze. The little show you put on has his girth raging stiff for you in record time. "Uhn! Oh, Kishibeee! Uhh, uhh, uhh! Stuff me till I can't take it. Need your fat cock to ruin me, Kishi!" His ears burn hot listening to you as he stares intently between your beautiful brown thighs, mouth watering for a taste. Swollen cock won't stop twitchin, precum already drippin in anticipation. "Yeees! Feed this pussy that dick, give it to me! So fuckin wet for you, know it'll slide right in." Your brows pinch, nose scrunching as you fuck yourself a bit quicker. Little puss drooling from the stretch, squelching loud from the swift pumps. "Wish you were here.. Ahh! Don't wanna -mmm- wait anymore. Want you to h-hold me down.. Fuck me like onahole, Daddy!" The fuck?! Kishibe groans quietly at your slutty pleas. Fuck, you're askin for it. His dick throbs widly from how feral you're behaving, even though the dildo's barely half way in. "Ohfuh- Kishibe!Fuckfuckfuck! 'S so big, splitting me in half! Fill me up just like that.. Haah, so close! Gonna cum so much, Kishi!" Kishibe's mouth drops open, grip on your dinner involuntarily loosening a bit as his groin pulses intensely. He's stuck frozen in place, totally entranced, ready to burst at the seams from the erotic visual. "Yeees.. Oh God, gonna wet up that big dick.. F-fuck me, Kishi! Fuck this pussy till I cum, make it yours Daddy! Ohmy- cummiiing! So good! Haahshit! Feels so fuckin goood!" Witnessing you gush all over your toy and sheets is his demise. Kishibe's gotta bite his bottom lip to muffle his grunts as he nuts. Pent up cock spurting cum like a fire hose as he watches you shiver, swearin and callin out to him while you fuck yourself into overstimulation.

dbf!Kishibe can't stop his dick from chubbin when your in his presence anymore, so he spends less time with you: It's always been a challenge to look and not touch but how can he do that when he hears your beautiful filthy fuckin sobs of his name ringin in his ears 24/7? The image of you cummin ingrained in his mind so fiercely, he's officially rubbed his dick raw. Thinks his hiatus will save you before he does somethin he can't take back. But then you show up on Kishibe's doorstep, hair inna messy bun, dressed in one of his old hoodies and the tiniest pair of jean shorts he's ever seen. Pretty y/e/c eyes rimmed red and teary as you yell at him for ghosting you. "..so what, replace me that fast? Can't answer my calls or texts? At least coulda responded to my fuckin email- I begged you to tell me what I did wrong! You're a fuckin piece of shit, Kishibe!" You tire yourself shoutin and bangin on his chiseled chest. End up right back in his lap, on his couch this time as he tries to console you. "I know sweetheart, I'ma fuckin jerk. Asshole like me don't deserve a perfect girl like you. Didn't do anything to me. How could you? Ain't nothin a sweet thing like you could do to push me away, you know that. Its.. It's all my fault." "Then why, Kish? Why'd you leave me? Told me.. Told me I'm you're favorite girl, that you'd always be here for me. So why can't you just tell me what's goin on? I don't get it.. Or at least my dad. He's your best friend." Kishibe sighs, shakin his head. "Yeah, I know that. But how in the hell do I tell my best bud that I watched our girl fuck her own brains out while screamin for me to use her like a onahole? Hmm? And that I actually almost did. Was two seconds from pushin your head into the sheets so I could breed that inexperienced lil pussy all night long." You tense on his muscled thigh for the briefest of moments. "Had to stay away, y/n. I went too far.." The fuck he did. Didn't go far enough. And how could you not realize he saw the lewd display? Even with pretendin to arrive a good while after, he couldn't take his gaze from you the entire evening. Finally.. At last it feels like your advances are gettin you somewhere. "And?" You stand up, lookin down on his fine ass. "And? Wha- ... Fuck you mean and?" Kishibe stares up at you incredulously, tongue swipin over his bottom lip when his eyes do a swift dart to your smooth mocha thighs.

"Did you really think we'd just endlessly flirt forever? Geez Kishi.. Don't make me have to spell it out for you. Supposed to be this big strong devil hunter." You pull off your hoodie, revealing your bare chest. Undoin your bun, messy 30 inch waves tumble down your shoulders and back. "Y/n, baby, wait. Let's talk bout this." "Looks like you wanna do more than talk, Kish." Fuck, your right. Kishibe's so fuckin hard. Even though that should be impossible after how much he's nutted to you these past 2 weeks. But your tits are so damn pretty and he really wants to play with the cute cherry piercings dangling from your stiff dark peaks. Still, Kishibe attempts one last play at 'the good guy' when you go to push down your shorts. "Don't." It's a weak protest. "Please, babygirl. Don't do this.. I'm only a man." Your bottoms hit the floor as you giggle, pussy clenchin at his dick visibly beatin against his slacks. "And I'm a woman, Kishibe. Your woman." He groans a low "Fuck yes." fists balling when you crowd him, settin your painted toes on the edge of the couch; the angle spreadin your glistening cocoa cunt for him. "You know.. Lately, you don't listen to me very well, Kishi. And we've both know I've always been very concise about my wants and needs." Two fingers creep to move in and out of your hot lil snatch, free hand fisting at his short blonde tips as you effortlessly fall into a slow deep rythym. "So I need- mmm.. Need you to listen like you used to.. You can do that for me, yeah?" Kishibe's dying to replace his digits with yours. Swallows hard watchin you scissor your fingers before strokin your coochie a bit quicker. The generous amount of slick provides a nice wet plap plap to fill the air. "But you hear me now, right Daddy?" Fuck it! He can't fight against it anymore. Lips dam near teleportin round your poundin clit, eyes closing in bliss as he nods and nurses your sensitive nub. "Kishibe!" His big hands grab your ass and hold you against his incessant mouth, dick ready to buss from your shrieks and the taste of your creamy cookie. Yeah, Kishibe hears you all alright.

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brandycranby · 4 months

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ce characters + their skill at wrapping presents (based on technique, style, and enthusiasm) 🎁✨

crocheting a last minute gift rn hehe

steve: 9.5/10. the military precision comes in clutch when it's time to measure out wrapping paper. if he's not doing the wrapping himself, he's at your elbow with tape strips and scissors when you need them. gift bags? hell no, back in his day, presents were wrapped (ok old man 🙄💕) heh expect steve to come home with half a dozen new tubes of gift wrap because he just can't resist the cuteness (target snoopy paper, beloved 🥺💕)

andy: 7/10. if he did it himself that is 😌 this is a man of experience and few close relatives. the holidays are a quiet uneventful time for him (besides the odd party) and he spends it with you, showering you in gifts and treats for the new year. most of those treats come with complimentary gift wrapping that he'll most definitely take advantage of hehe if not, he's a sparkly gift bag kinda guy

ari: 8/10. he doesn't have much skill at getting those sharp corners on a wrapped box but can he curl a ribbon or what? great color sense, he doesn't look like it but he can tell a french silver from classic silver 😌💕 whatta man whatta man. eight presents though, that's a lot of gift ideas to come up with. defaults to cash and gift cards for some nights, slaps a ribbon on top and adds mesh bag of chocolate coins and calls it a night

johnny: 6/10. look, he's a guy. still, he's a guy with a big sister. sue comes over and they make a night in of it. wrapping paper is everywhere, someone gets hit with a tube, nothing's lit on fire but reed's gift is singed and labeled "to: asshole". it's probably just fruit of the loom boxers. your gift though? he keeps adding stocking stuffers until sue makes him use a wicker basket to hold everything bc "it's chic, johnny, and a paper bag can't hold all of that."

ransom: 5/10 +3 effort points. ONCE HE TRIES?? HE TRIES!!! i mean not for his parents' gifts, he probably amazon shipped those to their house. but he'll pull out the ribbons, the glitter, the tinsel, the special wrapping paper just for you 🥹💕 ransom doesn't really Get It, not until you have a day of present prep with him. cups of hot drinks and a movie on in the back, that sort of warm nostalgia that's so familiar yet distant from what he's known 🥺surprisingly good eye for it

jake: 4/10. oh lord he tries. he tries so damn hard. the living room is a wreck, there's tape everywhere and mismatched wrapping paper. he measures a length of paper too small and worries about cutting another one because you like that paper!! you'd probably cry if he wasted it!! so he takes a discard piece and kinda... band-aids it together... oh baby 😔 also how do you wrap plushies??? (put it in a box, jake, please put it in a box)

curtis: 7/10. solid score because he goes for maximum efficiency and doesn't take a break until every single present is completely hidden in gift wrap, tissue paper, ribbons, bows, and a gift tag. would be a 10 if he was a little more fancy and a little less practical about his present style. but he has the assembly line efficiency and it helps you get everything done in one day so kudos 😊 points off for getting suspicious when you take a long pee break tho

---

since i've started writing this hc list, i've redone my amigurumi THREE TIMES. why do i do this to myself. i also wrapped last minute gifts like a jake today heh

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throneofsapphics · 4 months

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Can i ask for something similar to it only takes three azriel x reader but like where reader struggles with an ed and suicidal thoughts and it gets really bad

If not thats ok I understand that can be triggering i loved how you wrote for it inly takes three it was good I really enjoy your writhing your very talented 🤍

from the shadows

Summary: “It would’ve been nice, you supposed, if he’d cared before you were already balancing on the edge.”

Warnings: toxic parents/friendships, ed, suicidal ideation, drinking, depression

Word Count: ~2.7k

A/N: ahh you’re so kind, thank you for the request!

Did you want someone to notice? Not really. These battles were supposed to be your own to fight. Every time you’d brought it up to your parents, they told you it means you need to be stronger, that your mind is weak.

You stared at the food in front of you, waging a mental war with it. Each time you tried to touch food, words and memories would slide into your mind.

The half-finished plate is pulled away from you. “Don’t eat too much, dear,” your mother tutted.

Closing your eyes, you let out a long breath.

“Are you going to eat that?” Cassian asked.

“All yours,” you pushed it towards him. He shot you a grateful grin, and slid your food onto his plate. You could’ve sworn you saw a muscle in Azriel’s jaw flex, but he didn’t say a word.

You registered everything, but none of it held any meaning. Nothing mattered, you were trapped in this endless void. Haze clouded your world. Muted colors, dimmed voices, even the air surrounding you felt lifeless. Each smile a facade, each action and response carefully measured, everything designed to make it seem fine. To make you seem fine.

There wasn’t any other option. Anything else felt like failure to you. Weak, weak, weak. Each time you’d reached out before - every time to your parents or old friends, your hand was slapped away with a scathing gaze and cutting remark.

‘Just deal with it.’

‘You’re being dramatic.’

‘Stop looking for attention.’

So you did. Everything stayed inside - under firm lock and key. Your conscience argued against itself, you had different friends now. Friends that gave the appearance of caring, that seemed genuine -

“Hey,” a voice called, a hand waving in front of your face. Blinking, you brought your consciousness back into the present. Mor. “Where did you go?”

Was that concern or worry in her tone? Maybe.

“Just a memory,” you forced a smile you hoped was reassuring. She didn’t look convinced. From your peripheral, you spotted narrowed hazel eyes watching you, a shadow swirling around the bearer's ear. “What do you have planned for today?” You deflected.

Mor, face still lined with a tinge of worry, took the bait.

Laying on the bedroom floor, studying the dips and whirls of the ceiling, the hard wood surface dug into your back. Today was the day you’d decided to say something. To build up the courage to ask for help. Azriel, who you’d always gone to. It was getting bad enough you knew something needed to change, and you were the only one who could start it. ‘Asking for help makes me strong,’ you reminded yourself.

The door creaked open, and you knew who it was before he saw you. Maybe you should be embarrassed, getting caught like this. But … you’ve already hit the bottom, and it didn’t matter anymore if others saw it.

A scarred hand loomed in front of you, coming from an amused looking Azriel. You took it, and his fingers closed around you, warm and comforting. He yanked you to your feet - hard enough you stumbled forward a few steps, catching yourself with a hand on his chest.

“You’re lighter than I remember,” he commented, scanning over your body. Your shoulders lifted and fell. Azriel frowned, but dropped your hand - leading you out of the room instead.

“Where are we going?” Your voice was rough. When was the last time you’d spoken to someone? Working in the library, doing research, didn’t require it, and people were rarely around the townhouse.

“Meeting,” he answered - his voice a bit short. Like he was annoyed you had to ask. You dropped his hand.

A meeting nobody had told you about.

“I didn’t know.”

He cast a sidelong glance at you, studying you briefly, deciding if you were lying or not. When had he started questioning that? Throughout all of these years, you’d provided him with nothing but honesty. Azriel, your close friend and on and off lover.

Maybe he read the confusion on your face.

“You’ve been hiding something.”

That made you pause in your tracks. “Excuse me?”

“There’s something you’re not telling me.”

“What do you mean?” Fury rose in you, heart pounding, chest tightening, face blazing.

Azriel stood there, watching you with that cool quiet. Long enough you realized it was a tactic, waiting for you to offer up information. Like you were one of the prisoners he interrogated. Gods, your anger only grew and grew.

“Ask me,” your fists clenched. “Ask me what’s wrong.”

His mouth tightened at the corners, a sign you were testing his patience.

A clock ticked in your head, counting each second, both of you staring at each other - seeing who would speak first. Thirty. That was it for you. You scoffed and rolled your eyes, turning on your heel. If he didn’t have the decency to ask, you wouldn’t tell him a damn thing.

Azriel expected you to offer everything up on a silver platter. To come to him for everything, like you had in the past.

You were about to, and now you felt like a fool for even thinking of it.

For all this time, you thought you’d kept it hidden well enough that nobody noticed. Now it’s clear - he’d seen something, and chosen to ignore it, watching from his shadows and not doing a damn thing. If the person you trusted the most saw you struggling and didn’t bother, what does that mean?

It meant you weren’t going to crawl all the way to someone who wouldn’t move an inch for you.

You prayed you’d somehow find the strength to deal with this on your own.

Feet and instinct guiding, you found yourself down by the Sidra - a secluded area. You fell, gravel digging into your knees and palms, hands pulling at your hair. A shield wrapped around you, cloaking you from sight and sound. Nobody could hear your screams, and right now - that’s the way you wanted it.

Distantly, you heard the rain clattering on your shield, the sound normally would bring comfort - but now it felt like some kind of beating drum, like a haunting melody. Light flashed in your vision, streaking across the sky before striking the ocean. Maybe it would hit you too.

Screaming. It could have been hours or minutes you sat there, tears flooding from your eyes and throat burning. It was supposed to make you feel better, but if anything it got worse. Numbness overtook you, drowning out every other sensation. You could fall off a cliff and feel nothing, maybe until your broken body hit the rocks below.

Weak. Weak. Weak.

Was it that? Or did it make you strong enough to end your own suffering?

Different images flooded your mind. Fighting back a laugh at one of Mor’s presents, offering your thanks instead. Watching live music in the rainbow. Azriel taking you flying for the first time.

Like cold rain, the thought of him pulled you out of your mind. What would he say if he saw you like this? Probably nothing, but he’d think you’re pathetic.

Good thing you didn’t give a damn what he thought anymore. You stood, brushing the gravel from your knees and palms, frowning at the small indents left behind on your palms, and let the shield disappear.

This was where the Sidra tumbled out into the ocean. The rocky cliff, seldom frequented, where you could truly be alone.

You didn’t really want to die … but you took another step towards the edge, peering closer. This way wouldn’t be quick, your body would break but you’d lie on the rocks below for hours, maybe trapped between them - slowly drowning under the waves.

“Y/n,” someone called - and you startled, body starting to launch over -

Shadows curled around you, dragging you back several feet, Azriel’s arms wrapped around your waist - holding you tight. “I’ve been looking for you,” he murmured, still holding tight.

At least your shield had done its job. Still, he was the last person you wanted to see right now. Catching him by surprise, you stomped on his insole and wiggled out of his grip - just like he’d taught you. Taking a few steps, not daring to turn your eyes away from him, you watched something like fear cross over his features.

He held his hands up, palms facing you. “Stop, please.”

Water sprayed against your calves. You’d gotten close to the edge again, without noticing. Looking over your shoulder, it would only take a few more steps.

Do it, the demon in your head screamed at you. He’d be relieved.

Turning your gaze back to him, worry shone there. It would’ve been nice, you supposed, if he’d cared before you were already balancing on the edge. There was no doubt his shadows would interfere if you got any closer, but for now he was giving you a choice. Letting you choose to walk away from the edge. Slowly, ever so slowly, his hand turned - reaching out to you instead. Teeth tugging into your bottom lip, you realized there was a decision to make.

It really wasn’t much of a decision at all, you ignored his hand, and brushed past him - making for the Townhouse.

Like an annoying guard dog, Azriel trailed you the rest of the way home. You didn’t see him, but you could feel his presence - moving through the shadows. You’d walked away, hadn’t you? He could leave you the fuck alone now.

Stopping for a bottle of wine, you made your way back to your bedroom. Meeting forgotten. Leaning your back against the door, a bit of magic popped the cork out. Funny, wine was one of the few things you could tolerate now. Maybe because of the release it brought.

You scented him, then heard a knock. You ignored it.

A sigh, and the sound of someone sliding against wood.

Azriel wouldn’t leave you, not like this. His shadows peered inside to tell him what you were doing. Sitting against the door, drinking right from the bottle. He could feel your warmth through the wood, a barrier separating the two of you. He mirrored your position.

If you didn’t want him inside, that was fair enough, he still wouldn’t leave. Not when you were just standing on the edge of a fucking cliff. Two hours spent searching for you when he noticed a small disturbance in the rain - droplets displaced before they struck the ground, and decided to wait a few minutes. Just in time for you to appear.

You’d always come to him in the past, and it was wrong for him to expect you to again. He’d already cast a thought out to Rhys and told him to clear everything for the next week.

Azriel had just nodded off, when he heard movement. He barely had time to stand before the door swung open, spotting you - half empty bottle of wine on the floor, bracing your hand on the wall next to the door.

“You can leave.”

“I’m not going anywhere.”

The door slammed shut again. Fine, he could wait.

“Talk to me,” Azriel pleaded and grabbed both of your hands, squeezing, his thumbs running over your knuckles. You ripped them away from him, shooting him a scathing look and storming past into the dining room. Inviting him in had been a mistake. The intent was to prove you were fine, and tell him he could stop hovering on your doorstep, but if anything he seemed more worried at the end.

You couldn’t hear anyone else in the house. Good. You didn’t want to deal with anyone. Sitting at the dining table, a plate appeared in front of you - a single muffin. One of your favorites. Swallowing harshly, you reached one shaking hand out for it.

Inches away, your hand fell to the table. Fuck.

Just one bite, you told yourself.

Steeling yourself, you reached again. Trembling fingers peeled back the paper, and you brought it to your lips. The scent of blueberries filled you, and the feeling of crusted sugar brushed against your lips.

One bite.

“Hey,” you heard Mor. The spell broke, and you dropped the muffin back on the plate. “Don’t let me stop you,” she winked, pulling out the seat across from you. Her own muffin appeared, and she took a bite herself - moaning at the taste.

Somehow, that helped, and you took one of your own.

You hadn’t noticed him, thankfully, but Azriel watched from the shadows and felt like an idiot. Somehow, Mor’s presence for a few minutes brought more light to your eyes than he’d seen in months. Or maybe it was that you managed to eat some of that muffin.

Those hours he sat outside of your door … had they been worthless?

Maybe, maybe not, but at least he’d proven he was there for you - even if it was a bit too late.

If you didn’t want him physically in your proximity, he could wait in the shadows.

Waiting didn’t help before.

He’d read the expression on your face - on that cliff, and understood your anger.

Azriel was waiting for you to come to him, when he should’ve been the one reaching out.

Walking out of hearing range, his palm slammed against the wall, forehead resting on the cool wood. If he couldn’t do this one damned thing right, what did that say about him?

For a while, Azriel really did think you were getting better. You smiled more, ate more, and had a spark of life in you. But, as the weeks went on, he saw you draw further into yourself. Plate half full, eyes dull. This time, he’d actually do something about it - even if you shoved the door in his face.

Your door was already open, so he pushed a bit further, knocking.

Bleary eyed, you lifted your head from your desk and sighed, but jerked your head. He surveyed your room, taking in the books piled everywhere, empty bottles, clothes strewn over chairs haphazardly. A mess.

“What do you want?” The words weren’t sharp or cutting - although he’d prefer that to the emptiness in your voice. The bleakness of your expression, even though he could only see your profile - eyes unfocused on the book in front of you.

“You’re struggling. Again.” Not the most eloquent, but he got right to the point.

“What’s it to you?” Narrowed eyes finally looked up at him. Cautious. Wary. Even months ago, you’d never looked at him like that before.

“I care about you.” Maybe he expected your eyes to soften - to show some kind of understanding, but if anything they only hardened further. You didn’t believe him. He tried a different tactic. “Is it that hard to admit you need help?”

“Yes,” your voice rose, but he didn’t take a step back or flinch. He could deal with your anger, anything’s better than the distance, and that veritable wall you put up between them.

“Why?”

“It means i’m weak,” the first tears lined your eyes as you shifted in your chair to face him. He could see all of the sharp angles of your face, even more defined now - and not in a good way. There was no shine to your hair or eyes, none of that normal glow to your skin.

“You don’t believe that.”

“You don’t know that.”

“I know you.”

A sigh, and your hand ran down your face. “Why are you here, Az?”

“I don’t like seeing you … hurting.”

“You didn’t bother before,” you countered.

“And I regret that,” cautiously, he reached out and grabbed your hand. You didn’t protest or fight him, and he took that as a good sign, letting his other hand brush away one of your tears, the droplet catching on his thumb. Even with the tear gone, he brushed his thumb across your cheek again, savoring the smooth feeling of your skin. Ever so slightly, you leaned into him. Catching yourself, you jerked back, but didn’t let go of his hand - if anything you seemed to grip onto him tighter. As if he might disappear and leave you by yourself again. That wouldn’t happen.

“I don’t know how you can help.”

His thumb brushed back and forth over your knuckles. “We can figure that out.”

The slightest smile appeared on your face, and lingered.

azriel taglist: @acourtofinkandpapyrus if anyone wants to be added please let me know!

#azriel x y/n #azriel x reader #acotar drabble #acotar x reader

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