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unholyhelbig · 3 months

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Romanov smut??

[This is 18+, if you are a minor DO NOT INTERACT, I will report you.]

Title: Spin Cyle

Ship: Female!Reader x Natasha Romanov/Romanoff

Warnings: Top!Natasha, Dom!Nat, Definate Mommy kink, semi-public sex, swearing, fingering (R recieving), derogatory names, pet names, Dom/sub dynamic, finger sucking, slight bimbofication if you squint [lmk if I'm missing anything], horrible grammar.

Summary: Reader is working the overnight shift at the laundromat when a mysterious stranger comes in with motives that are clear from the start.

[A/n: And so what if I have thing for laundromats? They're comforting, okay? I like writing fluff but sometimes you just really have to get in there. ]

Main Masterlist | Read my stuff on AO3 | Leave Requests

Spic & Span was one of the only laundromats left in a city that swarmed around a university, so it was always teeming with people. Between classes, students with headphones on and powder laundry soap would occupy the tables that pockmarked the large space.

No washer nor dryer were the same; some were a beautiful turquoise, with rusted patches on the front. Others were a sickly olive green that had once been coveted among housewives. They all seemed to function perfectly despite their age; but it was your job to make sure they did just that.

The usual shift you worked was 8:00pm to 8:00am, and aside from the stray kid here or there, it was mostly a silent endeavor. Since starting six months ago you had torn through at least fifteen novels, and when you grew bored of that, you moved onto movies that would hold your attention until the small bell above the door sounded.

You’d learned quickly that when people were doing their laundry, they were looking for peace. It was a tedious chore and the last thing they needed was someone breathing down their neck. Sometimes, there was the occasional person who was looking to chat, which you obliged to eagerly in order to break the silence.

It had been a clear, but cold, evening when she first came in. With none of the machines in use, the only mechanical buzz came from the vending machine in the corner that offered up stale snack-cakes and off brand soda.

Out of habit, when the bell sounded, you leaned back in the office chair and peaked around the doorframe into the main space. You were designated to the small room that had a desk, and place to sit, but was mainly a storage closet. The mini-fridge was sidled up next to a mop bucket that smelled so thickly of musk, no one tended to use either.

The woman didn’t look familiar to you. Over time you had gotten to know the regulars, and you were certain that you would remember her. Even under the harsh overhead lights, you clocked her beautiful complexion, her focused green eyes as she dug in her pockets for change. Her hair was an electrifying red, lips pursed together in frustration.

She didn’t’ have a laundry basket with her, nor her own soap. It seemed as if she were entirely unprepared to do any type of wash, and that made your fingers twitch nervously. You watched, cheeks heating up, as she stripped her shirt off and loaded it into the machine.

Goosebumps rose on her perfect skin, yet, she didn’t’ seem to mind; and holy shit, she was sporting a tight pack of abs. She shimmied her pants off and you forced yourself to look away. This was wrong. Admiring a gorgeous figure was one thing, but you refused to let your eyes linger.

Instead, you went back to your book, reading the same paragraph over and over again. None of the words were sticking. All you could think about was the curve of the woman’s mouth, how good it would feel to have it kiss every inch of your body, leaving little bruises in her wake. You were hopeless.

“Excuse me?”

The book flew from your hands, crashing onto the linoleum as you placed both feet firmly on the floor. She had been quiet in her endeavor to find you, to find anyone. It was nearly unnerving how she had wandered over undetected.

She was clad in a black lace bra and a pair of sweatpants that hugged her tightly and left little to the imagination. The amount of skin she was showing didn’t seem to bother her as much as it had flustered you.

“I think the soap dispenser ate my quarters.”

“Yeah, yes, uh” You shot to your feet at a dizzying speed “it does that. I have… key.”

She lifted both of her eyebrows at you, and you swore that you saw her smirk. You scooted past her, and she made no attempt to move. You could feel her body heat, your front pressing against hers. You did your best to mentally scold yourself for the reaction your body had to the proximity of hers. She smelled like vanilla, like something more biting that you couldn’t place your finger on. The stranger tracked your every movement.

“Just you tonight?” She asked, voice lilted.

You hummed nervously in response before heading over the small manual vending machine that would dispense little packets of soap if you had chosen to use it on the right day. She followed closely behind you, and you felt her heated stare as you unlocked the case.

“Pick your poison.”

“Mm, what do you recommend?”

“Um,” You turned, her eyes were glinting mischievously, arms crossed over her chest. It was almost painful keeping yourself modest in this situation. You refused to let them wander, but squeezed your thighs together to dispel the thoughts. “Tide.”

“You’re a shy little thing, aren’t you?”

The woman reached forward and grabbed the suggested package. She didn’t’ wait for your response. Instead, she sauntered back over to her machine.

Your mouth was suddenly incredibly dry, and it was hard to lock the soap back up without fumbling. You’d dropped the keys twice before picking them up and succeeding in your task. Building up the confidence, you turned to ask if the woman needed anything else, but were once again, stilled in your movements.

She shimmied out of her sweatpants in a painstakingly slow manner. It was deliberate, you were sure, and if you weren’t than the salacious eye contact she made with you while straightening up and throwing her sweatpants in with the rest of her load confirmed it.

She was wearing the slightest bit of fabric in a black lace that matched her bra. Your eyes betrayed you, scouring her head to toe for any imperfection, but you found none. She was utterly perfect.

This had to be some type of test. There were hidden cameras somewhere and your overnight job that paid you a measly 7.50 an hour was trying to test your morals. This was the devil, and she was in lingerie, lilting her head at you expectantly.

“Damn it all,” She cooed, frowning down at the machine “It seems I don’t know how to work this thing at all. Every machine is different, you know? I might need a little help.”

Fuck.

You must not have moved because a few moments later she let out a breathy chuckle. “That is your job, isn’t it?”

“Certainly.”

She smelled like spiced coffee, something you caught a whiff of because she didn’t attempt to step back when you joined her. There was an immense body heat radiating from her, and you fought back a whimper when her hand touched the base of your spine. She was peering over your shoulder. She simply hadn’t pressed start- but you weren’t going to tell her that.

Instead, you savored the sparingly tantalizing touch and hit the button yourself. A low whirring filled the room. It was a sound that you were more than familiar with. The cycles of the washing machine were counted as easily as your own breaths.

“Dense, aren’t you?”

“hmm?”

You felt your cheeks redden as you turned to face her. Your back was flush against the machine, replacing her hand on your spine. You instantly missed her touch. She was so close to you now, but still took another step closer as if you could climb into the washer to avoid her.

“Sweet girl, I’ve thrown every hint at you in the book.” Her fingers came up to the collar of your shirt, dancing at its hem, right past the fabric until they left blazing trails on your collarbone. You clenched your eyes shut, letting out a shuttered exhale. “While I do love a woman with manners, must I ask?”

“I’m not sure I… understand.”

She whispered against your lips, not quite touching “You’re much too tightly wound, darling. Do you want mommy to take care of you?”

No one has ever asked you this before. Most of your partners, while satisfying, wouldn’t dare murmur anything close to what this stranger had just said. And you were much too shy to ask. Instead, you settled for spicy romance novels, and a magic wand that never seemed to itch that insatiable scratch.

“Don’t be so shy now. I saw the novel you were reading earlier. It’s just such a coincidence that it’s just the two of us here.”

Your forehead was pressed against hers and you stared into intense fern-colored eyes. God, you wanted her to take you right here, right now. There was something much too scandalous about fucking in the open, a feeling that you wanted to capture and savor.

“All you have to do is ask.”

You swore there was a slight Russian lilt to her voice. The more she got worked up, the more in was shining through. Her breath was quickening in pace with yours, the proximity of her making you press your thighs together to quell the excitement that threatened to drip through the fabric of your pants.

“Please,”

Her hand came up and gripped your chin in a fluid movement, manicured fingers squeezing with just the right amount of pressure. “Please what, Kotenok? What do you need from mommy?”

“Touch me,” It came out as a whimper that was much too desperate for you liking, “I need to feel you.”

An animalistic growl rumbled in her throat before she pushed her mouth against yours in a bruising kiss. You parted your lips, groans muffled by her tongue swirling around your mouth. She tasted like coffee, the same you had smelled earlier.

She reached down and ripped your shirt open, the pearlescent buttons popping away and scattering under the many machines around you both. You didn’t have much time to protest the destruction of your shirt before she palmed your breasts.

There was a mischievous look in her eyes at the front latching bra you wore. “Wow, you really are a little desperate slut, aren’t you?”

She unhooked and discarded the garment before you could get out more than a hungry noise. Her lips attached to one of your nipples, her hand grasping the other breast and giving it an almost-painful squeeze. You arched your back, pushing more of yourself into her hot mouth. Her tongue licked away the goosebumps raising against your skin in response to her ministrations.

You would have done just about anything for her at this moment, her fingers delicately ghosting over your stomach at the waistline of your jeans. Each shuttered breath pushed you closer to her.

In a swift movement she lifted you onto the top of the washing machine. You weren’t prepared for the bout of strength, nor the spin cycle that was happening below you. Another whimper escaped you and she looked at you with a wolfish smile.

“Oh, sweetie, don’t you dare think about cuming on top of an appliance.” She squeezed your hip and you took the cue to lift yourself enough for her to pull your jeans down and discard them with your panties. “Though, it appears your wet enough at the idea.”

A downright beautiful woman had you sweating and naked on top of a washing machine, promising to take care of your every need, no matter how salacious it was. Of course you were wet, dripping, actually.

Still, you flushed when she worked a single finger up your slit, testing it for herself. You shivered at the simple gesture, falling close to her. You felt her chuckle at your expense. “Mm, Kotenok, so desperate.”

Her thumb brushed against your cheek, you could smell your own sex on her fingers. She’d barely touched you, yet they were soaked. They traced your lips and you parted them on the silent command. There was a satisfied look on her eyes, at how easily you had folded for her.

You sucked her fingers, never breaking eye contact. Her stare was starving. “God, you’d look amazing choking on my strap, darling. I’m sure it’d stretch you out nicely.”

You groaned against her fingers, something that sounded along the lines of ‘fuck’ escaped you. Her other hand dipped lower, a gentle touch brushing against your clit. Your breath hitched, and you fell forward, you head on her shoulder.

“Do you want me to fuck you?”

“Yes,” you garbled, careful not to bite down on her fingers, but thankful that they muffled your expletives. “I want to cum.”

“Mm, but darling, you have to let mommy have her way with you, no matter how long it takes. That’s what good little whores do. That’s what toys do.”

God, you’d do exactly that, anything to sate the need that made you want to buck desperately against the machine under you. It’s vibrations were slowing, but that didn’t stop your crude wanting to climax.

Without warning, the woman inserted a single digit into you. A gasp sounded around her fingers. She curled her touch inside of you and you pressed further into her. A fine sheen of sweat coated you both, the laundromat hot during the late summer night.

“You’re so tight.” She chuckled again, “Are you sure you can handle another?”

“Yes,”

“Yes what, pet?”

“Yes… Mommy.”

She was conditioning you with her words, and that much was clear, but you didn’t seem to care. This stranger had sauntered into your place of work and now had you under her full command with a few simple touches and an effective edging technique.

Another finger pushed into you, and you started to push down further into her. You weren’t sure what she saw in you that made her approach you like this. It had to be more than the novel, plenty of people indulged in smut. Maybe it was the desperation- your need to please in the most mundane of situations.

“Good girl,” she growled against the small of your neck, finally pulling her fingers from your swollen lips. You missed their taste, their feel against your tongue. “I’m sure you can handle a third, you desperate little slut.”

“I can,” You stuttered, tightening around her as she did just as promised. She flexed them inside you, drawing a whorish moan from the back of your throat. The woman started to pump slowly, at first, in and out of you until you felt something build in your core.

You hugged her close, the scratchy fabric of her bra pressing against your nipples, drawing them to points with their expert pressure. The sensation was phenomenal, something you never wanted to end. You hugged her close, your nails digging into the warm expanse of her back.

“Ask nicely, sweet girl.” She growled in your ear.

“Can I please cum?” You clenched your eyes shut, she quickened her pace, the word came out broken, but you didn’t care if you sounded like you were pleading, you absolutely were. “please. I’ll do anything.”

You could feel her smile against your shoulder “Go on, slut. Cum all over Mommy’s fingers.”

Her declaration was all you needed to finally give in to her attentive movements. The feeling that was building so deliciously in your core finally released in the most mind-boggling orgasm you had ever had. You silenced your own scream in her shoulder, but it could only do so much. You were thankful it was just the two of you in here, or your shame may have overtaken you.

She continued to pump in and out of you with her fingers, flexing and curling them expertly as you rode out your climax. You were shaking against her, nearly crying into the small of her neck when she pulled out of you entirely, wiping the slick on her fingers against your thighs.

Perhaps too kindly, she let you breathe against her for a moment, catching your bearings, her hand dragging against your bare back with a comforting amount of pressure. She was proud of herself, that much was clear in her movements. She knew in that moment that she was the best you had ever had; quite possibly the one person who you’d compare all the rest to.

The washer let out an unceremonious beep that had you chuckling, finally pulling back enough to see the woman’s face, shocked to see a bit of admiration behind her eyes. She lifted a perfectly sculpted brow at you.

“Hm,” she hummed, giving you a dazzlingly genuine smile. “I guess the spin cycle is over.”

#Natasha Romanoff #Natasha Romanov #Natasha Romanoff x reader #Natasha Romanoff x you #Natasha Romanoff x y/n #Natasha Romanoff x female reader #Natasha Romanov x you #Natasha Romanov x y/n #Natasha Romanov x reader #Natasha Romanov x female reader #Marvel imagine #Black Widow #Request

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riaki · 4 months

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haii >:3 i was wondering of you could write a thing on if reader was a classmatw of gojo when they were in jujutsu tech? ur hsbullt gojo was really well written 💗

sorry if i sound rude, im not familiar with how tumblr works ;(

hey there!! thank u sm for ur ask nonnie ! hope this is good... and don’t worry!!!! ur perfectly fine my love 🤍

classmates | satoru gojo x reader cw: calls u princess, swearing

1:34PM. 5/21/06 - JUJUTSU TECH GYM - more than friends, less than lovers

"fucking hell, satoru!" you rub your head slowly, gritting your teeth as pain hammers the side of your skull; feels like a bruise is going to form, and you’re pretty sure you have basketball line marks on your face.

satoru jogs over to you, the rubber soles of his shoes squeaking on the gym floor. there's that pesky grin on his lips again, and his eyes shine, a vibrant glow of youth. he’s not apologetic at all, you think with gritted teeth. he slows to a stop a few yards away from you, a panting, sweaty mess, yet you find yourself irritably drawn to him either way. he shoots you a quick wink, fanning himself with his shirt in a way that lets the dip of his hip expose itself to the musty air of the gym. a droplet of sweat slides down his skin, and your face burns.

"yo! pass me that ball, [name]." he waves an eager hand towards you, and you roll your eyes, tossing the basketball in his direction. it lands square on his chest with a thump, eliciting a little ‘oof’ from his lips and pressing the cotton of his shirt against his damp skin. and it sticks, defining his muscles in patches of wet cloth. the summer heat must really be getting to you, because the sound of his voice has your thoughts running far, far away from you.

you’re yanked back into reality when a little huff escapes his glossy lips, wiping his forehead and messing up his soft white hair, stray strands clinging together over his eyes. shoko made away with his sunglasses, which means you’ve got a front seat view of those gorgeous, yet equally uncanny irises. "hey, you've got a solid throw. you should give it a shot, yeah? why not join me 'n suguru for a round—"

“hell no.”

he just laughs at that, haughty and everything you should really learn to hate as he turns on his heel and heads back toward the center of the court, where suguru is waiting with an irked expression on his face.

“suit yourself, princess.” he tosses a wave in your direction of his shoulder, and you raise a hand to your chest, feeling your heart slam against your ribcage.

9:02AM. 11/06/07 - JUJUTSU TECH CLASSROOM - best friends

“so.”

gojo glances at you, as if surprised you broke the silence. you can see your own reflection in the lens of his shades, hiding his gaze from the world. sunlight filters in through the windows; it’s early, a break between classes. it shouldn’t be stuffy in the classroom with the windows open, but it still feels suffocating.

you stare at him, and he stares back from his seat atop your desk. his lips are curved down in that usual unamused look he’s always sporting, but there seems to be weight in his shoulders; a ghost tugging his muscles down, stiffening the muscles in his neck to the point where you wish you could just offer him a massage. but you’re not sure if he’d let you get close enough to ever do that.

“what?” he snaps, glaring at you as he sticks his bottom lip out. at least, you think he’s glaring— it’s been harder to tell lately, what’s on his mind. not that you were ever able to read him easily before, though. he likes to hide.

you kick the leg of the desk he’s sitting on with a foot, sighing and humming to yourself for a moment or two. you don’t see it, but gojo’s expression softens slightly and he looks back up at the ceiling again, callused fingers curling around the edge of the desk. the pale color of his skin makes the veins on his hands more prominent; a subtle, muted blue that makes you want to run a hand over his arm.

the two of you had stopped by a store that morning. you’d bought a cup of coffee and two onigiri for yourselves, but it seems like he’s already finished his. you know right now is the prime time for his appetite to flare up— with adolescence and all, but he doesn’t seem to be eating much. or at least, not from what you can tell.

“here, have this.”

gojo glances down at you once more, letting himself observe you with his full vision; not one that’s always hidden behind a layer of thick black stained glass, meant to absorb the pain and the headaches for him. you, who’s so gentle and soft with him— surely you wouldn’t cause him any sort of aching, if not for the one inside the cavity of his chest. it takes him a moment to realize you’re holding out something to him— your onigiri, half eaten. there’s a shriveled little plum showing, burrowed between the layers of sticky rice and dry seaweed wrappings.

he’s uncharacteristically silent as he grabs it from you, the crinkle of the plastic wrapping the only noise in the world as he stares at it for a moment before starting to eat. his cheek puffs when he starts chewing; the bob of his adam’s apple in his throat when he swallows makes it hard for you to stifle a smile. even with the weight of all he’s carrying, gojo still manages to look like a child every now and then. you can’t help but think he’s grown up too fast.

you let a moment of silence pass, stealing a long glance at him as he busies himself with his half of the rice ball, wolfing it down.

“i know i cant offer much to you, satoru…” you started quietly; tenderly, if he listened closely. the way you say his name makes his throat constrict in a way he’s not familiar with.

“…but if you ever need something— anything— i’ll be here. plus, i never finish my onigiri anyway. so you can have the half i don’t eat,” you laughed, closing your eyes and listening to the morning breeze outside. gojo takes the opportunity to observe you; the soft curve of your cheeks, the way your lashes curl, the soft fade of your full lips at the edges and the hair that frames your face.

you can feel his eyes on you, but you let him get away with it. it feels like an infinite eternity goes by before his voice finally cuts through the thick air.

“…have you been resting? the bags under your eyes are darker than usual.” he pokes at you, shifting again, but you seem to revel in the comfortable familiarity of his banter; something that makes his heart ache in a way only you elicit from him. the way you pull at his heart strings is so natural and easy that it’s unnatural to ignore.

“probably more than you have,” you teased. gojo sniffles, and you chalk it up to the seasonal illnesses.

2:46AM. 12/07/08 - JUJUTSU TECH DORMS - ?

it’s half past two in the morning when you get gojo’s text. or, more accurately, the one you forced him to send when he returned from his mission.

m done. u can come pver

he looks a little too much like a zombie when you knock on the door of his dorm and it swings open for you, revealing him in all his tired glory. the bags under his eyes are redder and darker than usual, and his hair is tussled and messy. it’s obvious he hasn’t bothered to clean himself up. his white tee is stained with something damp; his tears, but you don’t dwell on it. there’s a bandaid on the bottom of his jaw; you can see a hint of angry red scrapes peeking out from beneath the beige material.

“you look like shit.”

“are you gonna come in or not?”

you oblige and step inside, the plastic bag in your hand rustling with each movement. it’s a bit loud, and you just pray you don’t get caught sneaking into gojo’s room this late at night. at least you know which boards creak.

he closes the door behind you, crossing his arms over his chest and observing you. you look the same as you always do, but the way your hair falls over your face makes him want to brush it back, like some unresolved impulse. he doesn’t do anything about it; hanging around you for so long has taught him how to keep himself in control. for as long as he can manage, anyway.

he speaks up first, voice hoarse and low with lack of use. “what’s in the bag?” he makes it sound like it’s something illegal. and at this point, you’re not sure if the feeling that pushes you to do things for him should be considered so, because sometimes it feels like it.

“a birthday cake. or— it’s a fruit tart i stayed up to make.” you said, placing the bag on his cluttered desk, pushing away photo frames and bloody tissues and pencils shaven down to eraser stubs to make room for the box. satoru meanders over to you, peering over your shoulder with one hand on the desk to support himself. you can feel his breath on your neck, hot even in the darkness. it makes your hands clammy.

moonlight spills in from the windows next to his bed, but it’s not enough, so you turn on the lamp and open the box. the tart’s been through quite a bit— jostled in transport, marred in the making— but the sweet smell of fruit and cream makes his mouth water nonetheless.

“wow, that’s nice of you. weirdly so, actually. are you really [name]?” you can hear the grin in satoru’s voice, and you know he can hear the exasperation in your voice when you reply, using the plastic utensils you packed to cut a slice for him. the red strawberry juice stains the cream as your knife slices through, a rivulet of vermillion.

“shut up and be grateful. you get the slice with kiwi and the rotten blueberries just for that,” you huff, indignantly in a way that reminds satoru of a rather petulant housecat. he takes the tart from you, cold fingers ghosting over yours as the golden brown crust crumbles in his palm.

ignoring the sour berries, the taste is like a bite of heaven, but not the distant kind that’s hidden behind a veil of clouds. the kind that’s only found within the quaint, humble warmth of a homely kitchen, made with love by one’s own hand. your hand. the knowledge tastes all the sweeter on his tongue.

he’s snapped from his dazed pastry-savoring stupor when you speak up again, enjoying a slice of your own.

“happy birthday, gojo.” he stiffens, but he’s not quite sure why. if you notice his change in demeanor, you don’t say anything about it.

“congrats to another year,” you smiled, lifting up your half-eaten tart, not unlike the onigiri you’d shared with him a year ago. except this time he reciprocates, and you share a toast of berries and cream in the darkness of his dorm, at 3am on a quiet sunday.

the dorms are silent. the only sound is the wind outside, throwing leaves and dust at the window panes as it sings a tune in ode to winter. come tomorrow, it’ll likely be silenced by a coating of thick, white snow; unmoving, burying the secrets of the earth beneath the glittering icicles. not unlike the boy next to you, with pretty blue eyes that are constantly focused yet distant all the same, hair the color of clouds and face worn with age unbefitting of a child.

come tomorrow, the snow will fall and snuff out the life of the flowers and plants. but in this tranquil bubble of time, satoru is as free as a dove outside of its silver cage.

he reaches over, pulling you in by the sleeve of your night shirt and pressing a quick, chaste kiss to the corner of your lips. it happens in the blink of an eye; a moment of impulse, where for once, he allows himself to breathe; to let down the walls he literally holds up around him, to let his fingers curl into the fabric of your clothes and breathe in your scent, taste the heat on your skin and the buttery sweet crumbs dotting the curve of your lips; the dips in the corners of your mouth that make you always look so pretty when you smile.

when he pulls away, he refuses to meet your gaze, instead staring down at the only remaining clue of the tart in his palm— a single, rotten blueberry, squishy and soft. the silence rings in his ear as his face becomes hot.

“what was that for?” you ask quietly, staring angrily— in embarrassment, into nothing.

“there were crumbs on your mouth,” he explains.

nothing more, nothing less.

my (riaki) stuff. don’t repost and/or plagiarize !

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smutty-ki113r · 7 months

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🛩Masky🛩||Toxic

NSFW||~ One shot x afab gn!reader, includes- vouyerism, pleasure dom masky, mirror play, teasing, edging, pilot masky, minors—dni (3.4k)

Inspired by: Britney Spears

(Fun fact I wrote this on the plane 😗)!

Working as a flight attendant was such a hassle, keeping you up at ungodly hours and having you deal with customers that complained about their seat. But it certainly had its perks, learning how to balance 4000 ft in the air and ending up in some incredible places, layovers in Hawaii, Dubai, Spain. Out of all these things you never would have imagined joining the mile high club…

You had an hour to get from terminal 1 to 3, your last flight was to Miami, so you were at MIA, looking around for a bathroom. Fixing up your hair quickly and adjusting your uniform before reaching the gate.

The other attendants were also waiting to the side, you were early. Of course you had to board the plane beforehand to check the seats and restock the drink cart.

There was only a few passengers waiting around too, you swayed against your luggage. Looking around to see the two pilots that would be driving the plane walking towards you, one of them you had flown with before, Brian Thomas.

The other one, particularly, caught your eye- probably because you had caught his first. Your heart skipped a beat and you gave him a friendly smile, then averted your gaze to avoid being awkward.

You had never seen him, he was probably new, laughing at something Brian said, but his sight was on you.

The corner of his lip was raised just slightly, he was practically undressing you with his eyes. You couldn’t even complain, he was hot as fuck, and he was flustering you. But his face remained innocent, nobody noticed but you.

He had this dark brown hair and defined features, he was classy, wearing his white uniform and a tie, you couldn’t help but let your eyes wander to how it fit him so perfectly. His build so defined- you stopped from staring at his pants.

If there’s one thing you loved it was a man in uniform.

Nobody had ever flirted with you on the job, and while no words were exchanged, you could feel his burning gaze.

You gulped and tried to look ahead, relieved when they called for all the attendants to board, it took the pressure off.

You took your post at the front of the plane and awaited for the passengers to board to then do the safety demonstrations and make sure everybody had their seatbelts on.

Soon enough zone 1 people started coming and you greeted them all, the door to the cockpit opened and you found yourself face to face with the pilot, glancing at his name embroidered in gold.

“Wright” you said softly, meeting his gorgeous eyes.

“yeah like the Wright brothers” he joked, looking you up and down and giving you a subtle smirk.

“That’s fitting” you told him. “Nice to meet you…”

“Tim” he finished, catching your name as well. “We’re about to take off, be a dear and get me some water will you?” He requested.

Nodding obediently and scurrying off to find him some water, he watched you go. Knocking on the door to the pit to alert them of your arrival and handing him the drink.

“Thank you gorgeous” he said, your face turning red at the compliment and instead moving to greet the other pilot, Brian nodded to you and you left.

Your thoughts remained on the beautiful man and you mindlessly did your rounds before the plane took off. Strapping in and listening to the men over the intercom.

“And we are ready for departure, flight 113 from MIA to JFK”

Smiling at yourself at the thought of your one day vacation in New York City. You wanted to go shopping and maybe visit the Statue of Liberty.

It was two hours into the grueling flight, your ears had already popped from the altitude, you never did get used to that.

You sat at the back, passing around the cart once and letting your other fellow flight attendants do the rounds for trash and such. You were all alone, looking out the window, your head in the clouds, and being almost startled as you saw the handsome man approach.

“I thought you were driving this thing” you whisper-hissed.

“Brian’s doing it, I’ve been at the wheel for almost three hours” he said, stressed. Flexing his arms out and stretching, leaning against a wall.

You couldn’t help but stare at his hands, his thick fingers, how you wished he could fill you up and make you pant out his name and-

Shaking yourself out of your thoughts and getting up, “you can have my seat if you want” he was probably exhausted.

“Sit back down” he said, his tone low. You did as he said; a tingle in between your legs at how commanding he was.

“I just came here to get a- snack” he said slowly, smiling as if he wasn’t looking at up and down you when he said that.

“I can make you something if you like” you offered, his tense posture relaxed.

“You’re a godsend, yeah, I’ll take a black coffee” you nodded attentively and got up to make his drink. Focusing on making sure it didn’t spill and stirring it for him.

Turning to him and handing him the drink, he took a sip and set it down on the counter. “Thank you beautiful”

You shook your head, it was nothing, “yeah of course” you laughed nervously, “whatever you need” you told him in a passing tone.

His gaze pierced through you, “whatever I need?” He said, his voice teasing, dripping with desire.

Right then you knew you had made a grave mistake, gulping and looking away. He approached you, his lips so close to your ear, tucking hair behind your ear and letting his fingers brush upon your neck.

God damn turbulence betrayed you, swaying the plane and making you lose your footing and slide right into him. His hand at your waist to keep you upright.

“Now that you mention it” he whispered in your ear. “There was something else…and I’m still hungry” his gentle touches were making you weak at the knees.

You glanced behind him but nobody was watching, you were afraid of what would happen if you were caught, he seemed to notice.

“I’ll be careful” he promised, his head an inch away from being buried in the crook of your neck, and he smelled so good, like this expensive manly cologne.

“We’ll be quick” his words so soothing and convincing you. There was already a feverish throbbing at your clit that you severely needed to attend to. A wave of desperate heat at your lower abdomen that you craved for him to satisfy.

You couldn’t resist this man, he had a mesmerizing effect on you. So you focused on his lustful gaze as he walked you back into one of the bathrooms, locking the door behind him and wasting no time in leaning down to kiss you.

Tim sealed the small space separating the two of you, a knee already in between your legs because of how compact the space was. You let out a few pants at the way he rubbed you, unable to stop yourself even though there might have been people just outside that door.

His kisses passionate and needy, like he had been craving you ever since the moment he laid eyes on you. And everything he did was intoxicating, you were so receptive to him, slick already gathering in your panties as he met your lips in an open kiss and bit down on your lip, nibbling and teasing you,

There was barely any space in that bathroom, moving around and escaping him would be difficult, it almost didn’t give you a choice, but Tim felt so good, you couldnt help but whisper his name in need.

“Oh fuck” he cursed, “your kisses are so delicious” he reached a hand down to your stomach, trailing it down your torso to your most intimate area, replacing his knee and pressuring your cunt gently through your skirt, “I wanna know if the rest of you tastes just as good”

Your breath hitched when he hoisted you on the small counter, your pussy embarrassingly wet at every one of his touches. He spread your knees open and bent down to get to work.

“So this is what you meant by hungry” you said in the middle of the heated moment.

His eyes met yours and you gulped at the mischievous glint swirling his pupils. Feeling a throb at the view of the captain on his knees. “Exactly” He chuckled lowly and pressed his lips to your thighs impatiently, sinking his teeth into your soft skin and leaving marks nobody would know about but him.

You whined, having to bite your lip to stop yourself from letting any lewd noises escape. “Oh god” you whispered, when he finally got to your pussy. It was too much tension, his hot breath lingering where his teeth marks lay, and now- right on your clit.

He hooked his fingers to your panties and brought them down, amused at the wet spot on them. Now there was nothing else below that short skirt. Your body involuntarily bucked forward, and his big hands held you in place. “Impatient are we?”

But he was just as rushed as you, it was supposed to be a quickie in the bathroom not lovemaking. If you wanted to do that later he would gladly lay you down in a proper bed and do so, but for now all he was focused on was your pussy glistening with your juices that he so desired.

Bringing his lips to you and lapping a stripe up your slit before opening you up and tasting you in full. Groaning at the sensation of your sex clenching around his tongue while he fucked you with it.

His fingers digging into your skin to bring you closer to his face and encourage you to ride as wildly as you pleased. You weren’t one to resist, your knuckles white as you held onto a handle on the wall and the roof above you. Praying that the passengers on the plane thought the rough movement was from turbulence and nothing more.

Tim ate like a starved man, in a way you had never felt before. There was no stopping him either, he wouldn’t cease his tongue fuck until he was satisfied, and nothing would please him more than you gushing over him enough to let him know you were ready for something much larger.

Besides, he couldn’t get his eyes off you, he was particularly enjoying making you squirm at the brink of your first release. He liked teasing you this much, it showed him that he held all the power, and you were wrapped around his finger. Technically you were, when he slipped one in and curled it in your soft spot.

His lips sucked at your bundle of nerves hard enough to make you spasm and clench your legs around his head, everything was going according to his plan. “Yeah? Does that feel good?” He asked, taking a breath and dipping another digit inside your dripping pussy.

You struggled to keep your voice bellow a whisper, but he didn’t seem to care about a possible audience. All he was focused on was pulling more of those pretty cries from your swollen lips. “Yes-yes” you repeated.

Your brows furrowing at the pleasure he was providing you with, and Tim himself was getting off at just the taste of you. His cock twitching in his uniform pants, he was painfully hard so he had to take himself out and stroke when you creamed on his tongue.

“You taste so sweet honey” he praised, “I love it when you struggle to speak because I’m making you cum with just my tongue” he smirked. The flat of his tongue once again swirling your swollen clit enough to make you let out a mutter of incoherent nonsense.

Too drunk off the bliss you couldn’t argue back, you didn’t want to. It was like you were in heaven, preforming acts that were so sinful they would have led you to hell.

“T-Tim” you gasped, “I’m close” you warned him, “gonna cum”

Once again he started eating you like you were his las meal on earth, your eyes rolled back in delight. But he wasn’t going to let you get off that easily, you should have known. “Not until you ask for permission”

He pulled his touch away slightly, enough to keep you just at the edge of your orgasm for a bit longer.

“Please” you cried, tears in your eyes. “Can I please cum, captain?”

The man saw the look on your face but just cooed, “you haven’t said my name” he reminded you.

“Captain wright” you babbled “captain wright”, again and again because once you spoke the magic words he just kept going faster. Pumping his thick fingers in and out of your sopping hole hard enough to make you come undone. Crying out for him and gripping onto the edge of the counter to restrain yourself.

“That’s right, just like that” he coaxed, helping you ride down from your climax so perfectly, You were thankful that he was there to hold you steady. Lapping at your release before standing up again and pressing his bare cock to your entrance.

“Gonna need you to beg for this one too” he said, to fuel his ego and also for consent reasons. His lips to your neck now. You had barely managed to come down from such ecstasy before registering what he was asking.

But you were far too gone, your cunt still clenching for him. There was nothing you wanted to do more than to satisfy him like he did you. Nodding and letting a few “please’s” to let him know you craved it too.

“Mhm that’s what I thought”, you could hear the cockiness in his voice, looking down to see if he had the package to back it up but your jaw hug open once you felt it. Prodding at you and letting his precum mix in with your slick.

“‘S not gonna fit” you said in a hiccup, eyes wide and narrowed at his heavy cock that pressed against your slit as you dripped on him. “It’s too big” you squeaked.

“Oh it’ll fit” he panted, mimicking the motions of sex but just grinding himself raw on you. “I’ll make it fit” he hissed. Finally rolling his hips into you in one swift movement. “Fuck” he cursed under his breath, it was quite a tight fit, enough to make him pause because he didn’t want to cum instantly.

A stray groan fell from your mouth but he caught it with his own, meeting you in a heated embrace. His hands on either side of you, pressing prints onto the mirror behind you. He pulled out and thrusted back in, working a good pace. You slowly acclimated to his thick girth with every stroke in your pussy.

Even with the stretch it felt so delicious, your hands clutching his once ironed uniform into wrinkled bunches. There was barely any space in that god forsaken bathroom, but it just gave him the excuse to stay closer to you. That and he just had to give smaller, quicker thrusts.

His big cock splitting you open time and time again, his tip reaching your cervix, thudding against your g spot in a way that made you squeeze him like a vice.

A hand keeping your knee open while he fucked you, practically pounding you. Making you lose your breath and your head go fuzzy. “You’re so tight” he hissed, “practically milking me”

He was panting, pulling out momentarily to turn you around and fuck you doggystyle. Except now, you could see your reflection and his own. The whole image of the captain pounding your pussy till it turned red on full display for you. A grin making its way to his lips, he liked seeing you struggle to fit him fully.

But the look on your face and the way you gripped around him told him that you wanted it, that and those obscene noises you were making every time he hilted. “Thats a good, pretty baby” he rasped, “servicing all your captains’ needs”

You looked at his eyes in the mirror, a pout on your lips from how he was acting. A hand making it’s way to your chin to redirect your gaze to your own body. “Watch yourself” he whispered, his breath hot on your ear.

“Look at yourself while you take all of me” he panted, and you felt yourself melt at the obscenity of his words. “I want you to see how good I’m fucking you”

Doing as he said and feeling his balls clap against your ass, it was almost more unholy to watch your expression and the way he made your body bounce back and forth on his cock.

“Do you see it?” He asked, “that fucked out look on your face from how deep my cock is right now”, a gentle touch at your lower abdomen to press where he was bulging. “Here, all the way inside that slutty little hole of yours” he teased.

It was all too lewd, you felt yourself sizzling with desire, about to burst again if he kept whispering those sweet words in your ear.

“You look so hot when I’m inside of you” he praised. “Mhm with me stretching you out, you’re so hungry for it” he growled. “Isn’t that right?”

“Yes sir”, You were struggling to piece together your words, the ones you could were just ‘more- more more more”, so thats exactly what you said.

“Please” you cried “please sir, more”,

Your noises getting a bit too out of control, he had to discipline you. A hand moving to your lips to hold your mouth as he told you to be quiet, but that almost made it worse. Now the sound of the lewd squelch and clapping of balls was the only thing that could be heard along with your muffled groans and pants.

“Shh that’s right” he said, softly. “Just keep taking it, just let me take care of you” you nodded at the finger at your lips telling you to be silent. “stay and let me fuck that pretty pussy just a bit longer.”

You bit your tongue and did as he instructed, trying to hold on but the throbbing at your cunt was aching. “Please captain, let me cum” you whispered.

Meeting his eyes through the mirror and he seemed to relent, it’s not like he would hold on much longer either. You were squeezing him too tight, and he couldn’t pull out too much, there wasn’t any space in that damn little cabin.

His hand gripped the rails to steady himself, the other at your ass to take a handful of. “You’ve been good, go ahead, you can cum” he whispered in your ear.

It felt like such a relief, shivers going down your spine and directly to your pussy. “I’m cumming-“ you warned, fluttering around him as you found your release.

“That’s a good baby just let yourself go” he said in a raspy tone, his fingers digging so deep into your ass there would definitely be marks. “Let your captain take care of you”

Your legs were weak, trembling as he hilted and spilled deep inside of your hole, groaning into your shoulder as he filled you up.

His cock twitching as you squeezed him until his balls were empty. Eventually he pulled out, his release dripping out from your hole and down your legs.

His big hands helped you pull up your panties once again, it wasn’t much help concealing the act, your hair was all disheveled and your cheeks rosy.

His release still inside of you a lewd reminder of what had just transpired on the planes bathroom.

“You did so good for me” he praised, making sure you were good before sending you off.

He put your skirt in place, “welcome to the mile high club” he whispered with a chuckle, “have a safe flight now”

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teyamsatan · 10 months

Text

➳ inexperienced!neteyam thoughts (nsfw)

a/n: i had a margarita or two and can't focus on monster in me but wow this made me feel so many things, and i needed to share. enjoy besties ;) (thank you to my amazing ines @cinetrix for the images as always x)

wc: 640 words

smut under the cut - minors dni 🔞

➳ inexperienced!neteyam who watches in awe as you push him back until his body collapses on the comfortable mossy ground, the biofluorescent flora lighting both your figures aglow, and he can't help but stare, can't help his lingering gaze as it settles on your body, that moves closer to him, until you straddle him, a playful smirk dancing on your face, eyes alight with mischief and desire and anticipation.

➳ inexperienced!neteyam who feels embarrassed at the way his needy, hard cock twitches against your clothed core, until you reassure him, your hands running over his thighs and up his body, trailing over his defined abs and pecs, until your fingers reach his throat, putting slight pressure on the points you know would cut off his air intake.

"do you trust me, teyam?" he squirms under you, his cock prodding at your entrance, his eyes shut tightly and mouth slightly agape, and all he manages is a soft nod. "i'm going to make you feel so good, teyam. you're going to be good and let me take care of you, right?"

➳ inexperienced!neteyam who lets out a whimpered moan as you sink onto his thick length, marvelling at the bulge forming in your belly, that you ask him to feel as you raise and lower yourself back on him, trembling beneath you as your walls envelop him, moulding after his cock, light you were made for him only.

"f-fuck, you feel so good!" "you like that, teyam? tell me how good i make you feel, tell me what you want to do to me, love."

➳ inexperienced!neteyam who starts bucking his hips wildly as he feels the intensity of the pleasure you're giving him engulf him, as he can feel his orgasm approaching, who is making you see stars as his cock buries deep in you with each thrust, hitting your cervix aggressively with feral, uncontrolled movements that spoke to a desperation you've never seen in him before, and loved wholly, that drove you close to your own release.

your hand reaches for his, taking his thumb and extending it, placing it gently on your clit as you bounced on his dick, the pleasure overwhelming as his girth stretched your viscid walls perfectly, filling you better than you could have ever dreamed. slowly, you started drawing circles and shapes on yourself using his fingers as a brush, teaching him, watching as he learnt fast, faster than you could keep up with. "that's right, teyam. you're doing so well, fuck. make me cum, pretty boy." he whimpers at your words, that he took to heart, because his fingers on you worked a magic you could barely understand, and fuelled by your praise which made his cock twitch inside you, you came, both moaning loudly as thick spurts of his milky release coated your walls, filling you and spilling down your ass and onto his thighs, and you collapsed on top of him, blissfully spent and overwhelmingly full of him, the way you wanted to be every minute of your day going forward.

➳ inexperienced!neteyam whose sex-drive is unending in his quest to pleasure you, to be worthy of your praises that drive him, that encourage and arouse him, who in no time, will have you squeal and cry as he ruts into you, learning every way to make you cum over and over, nothing more pleasurable to him than seeing how good he can make you feel, how many times he can get you to scream his name at one time, how he can outdo himself every night, as he finds new positions, new spots, new ways to use his cock, tongue and lips to fuck you better than you ever even thought possible.

➳ inexperienced!neteyam who becomes experienced quicker than it takes you to cum around him when he starts working his magic on your body.

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dontbelasagnax · 2 months

Note

Ok fine! You’ve convinced me! I’ll learn how to draw specifically so I can draw codywan kissing, you’ve spread your gospel successfully

…

How do you draw tho fr cuz I can doodle like, funky lookin birds but people is fully out of my depth send help

AAAA HELL YEAHHHH!!!!! LET'S GOOOO!!!!!

You've opened a can of worms asking me for art advice so *cracks knuckles* buckle up.

I sort of (only a little bit) use the Loomis method for easy head drawing. Here is a playlist of YouTube videos by Proko. Highly, highly recommend that channel for your art tutorial needs!

I start with a circle. For side profiles, I draw a line down the side of the circle to determine where the features will sit upon. I draw a triangular shape to mark where the orbital socket is. Around the middle point of the circle is where the jawline ends and the ear begins so draw a line there. There are proportion rules which are good guidelines when starting out in art but since I've been doing this my entire life, I have a feel for things and just wing it. That's to say, I put in a line implying the jaw based on vibes.

Next, I draw the eyebrows and brow ridge. Then the nose. I find I majorly base my proportions on this area so if anything is off, it throws the rest of the face off.

Then I draw the lips and chin... or in Obi-Wan's case, his beard. I will mark in his sideburns and hairline as well. Now, about ears: generally the top of the ear begins right around the top of the eyebrow and stops at the base of the nose. At this point I like to draw his eye, define the cheekbone, and refine the eyebrow. I'll finish scribbling in hair and that's it!

(Cody is much the same but I forgot to take useful progress pics 😂)

Extended Art Advice 👇

Tip #1: Draw lightly. Do not ever grip your pencil tight. This only leads to pain. You will notice I didn't erase at all. This is partly because I know what marks to make because I've done it a million times before and also because my lines are soft enough I can make lots of them and choose to deepen the ones that work.

Tip #2: Practice, practice, practice. Artistic skill is just loads and loads of accumulated knowledge and muscle memory from practice. This sounds boring but, in reality, you should make it fun.

Tip #3: Draw from observation/USE REFERENCE! The only reason I can get away without using reference when I'm feeling lazy is because I've drawn the same things over and over enough times it stuck. Aka I did lots of practice.

Now, to combine all these tips together, let's talk about how to use reference and how to make practice fun.

Reference is a huge aid when drawing at any point in your art journey. But I've found that in order to learn from what you're looking at, you need to think critically.

You obviously have something you want to draw. Reference helps you with that. You'll start out trying to draw what you see. Eventually you will run into an obstacle where you've messed up and things aren't looking good. This is to be expected. Every time this happens, think about what isn't working and find solutions with your reference. Analyze your subject to find your answers. Draw it again. Do not be afraid of failure. Each time you fail, you must look for a solution and this will lead you closer to your goal. This is how you grow as an artist.

I know, it sounds dreadfully boring and like a shit ton of work. It is a lot of work but you can make it fun! You love Obi-Wan and Cody so make Pinterest boards of Ewan McGregor and Temuera Morrison. Whatever you want to practice (may that be eyes, mouths, hands, hair, the face as a whole, etc) draw them. Ever hear tracing is bad? Fuck that. It's a perfectly valid tool to help you learn. If you're drawing digitally, pull up your reference in the art program of your choice, lower the opacity a little, make a new layer and trace what you see. I honestly find tracing to be very hard so when I've done this, I prefer to try to find shapes that will aid me when I'm actually drawing. If you're drawing traditionally, you can print out the photo and trace over it with a tracing paper or use a lightbox. You can also up the brightness on your computer screen and tape a piece of paper and trace that way.

Photos aren't the only references you can use! You can always look to your favorite artists' work and try to figure out how they do it. Often artists will break things down into more easily digestible shapes that will help you better understand how things work. Remember, if you ever copy or trace someone's art, it is for learning purposes only and you shouldn't post it. Feel free to take elements of people's art that you like and put your own spin on it though. For instance: I really love how this one artist draws men's tits so I studied a bunch of their art and now I'm much better at drawing them.

Oh and did you think you only get practice in while studying? Wrong! There's no reason you should shy away from trying to make the art you really want just because your skills aren't the most refined. Spoiler alert: you will grow the most when you push yourself out of your comfort zone. Draw codywan kissing. Draw it really enthusiastically and through profuse swearing and gritted teeth... but never a clenched hand. Don't hold back from the fun stuff just because it's hard. Aim high, land low, and shoot even higher next time.

In the beginning it will be especially frustrating. You'll feel like everything you make is a failure and nothing works out. You'll feel like you're not making any progress. Trust me, you are making progress and I believe in you.

If something really isn't working out and you find yourself growing distressed, take a break. It might last an hour or a week. Just take the break. Don't push it. Come back with fresh eyes and less stress. We all have days where nothing comes out right. Sometimes I can't even draw anything resembling a human face. It's okay. Whisper-yell expletives at your artwork and take the break. It will be okay.

With all that said, happy drawing and even happier codywan kissing!! 🧡💋🩵

#hope this helps!!!#(yes i did put my teaching hat on and break out my sketchbook to draw examples the moment i saw this in my inbox 😂)#ask box #lasagna rambles #my art #codywan

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darlingbabyboo · 9 months

Note

Can you make a part 2 to the tr x bimbo girlfriend with maybe izana mikey and kazutora if you dont write for them or dont want to its okay have a good day/night<3

I hope you also have a good day/night ૮꒰⸝⸝> ̫ <⸝⸝꒱ა

"Honey, you're my slut!"

♡ More Tokyo Revengers Characters and their bimbo girlfriends ♡

Kazutora Hanemiya

He loves you so much!

Your cute little aesthetic

Your adorable mannerisms

Just everything about you is just so amazing he can't control how much he feels for you

Though that's also the problem...

He just really doesn't get why you're with someone like him

You're just so amazing and he has a lot of insecurities and baggage and you're this pure beacon of light

How could you be with someone like him?

But you make sure to erase any and every negative thought he has

He won't deny that he loves the pampering

"What's that?" Is the question that's he's been asking all afternoon, but it can't be helped, he's just pretty clueless when it comes to the makeup world. He's eager to learn though, especially when you're the one teaching him.

You're focused on your craft, for once, the smarter one in a situation. "It's just mascara, supposed to really make your eyes pop-not that you need it, honestly." You cup his cheek with your hand. "Every part of you is just so beautiful!"

He squirms at your unfiltered praise. "That's not true. I-" You give him a deep kiss, stopping him from spewing any self-hatred.

He knows your lipstick will stain against his lips and he finds that he enjoys the thought of that, being marked by you. He relaxes into the kiss, you make him feel worthy of love.

Manjiro Sano (Bonten Mikey)

Mikey's life is practically defined by how much he's lost

His entire life is filled with grieving for the people that have left him or have passed away

His heart has hardened, and he cares for very little in his life

And you're one of the rare few

Mikey enjoys being with you so much because you just love him unconditionally

He doesn't have to pretend to be someone else or put on a light facade

He can talk about some really dark stuff and you won't be scared of it, no matter how much you probably should be

He also just likes how airy you can be

He finds it endearing, and even if the things you say can be a bit stupid, he always gets a good laugh out of it

You're just his special girl ᰔ☆(ﾉ◕ヮ◕)ﾉ*ᰔ

And god forbid anyone talk about your outfit

He'll destroy them

He always got his girls back

It's one of the few days of relaxation that Mikey gets and he's decided to spend it with you, just cuddled together at home. Due to the nature of his job, you two don't spend a lot of time together, but he cherishes the moments you do get. Right now you're on his lap, perfectly manicured hands typing away at your phone.

"Baby, I want this." He focuses on what you've added to your cart and finds a necklace similar to his tattoo. His lips curl into a smile.

"For me?" You nod your head eagerly and wrap your arms around his neck.

"So when you're off doing all your work, we're still connected."

You look at him with so much love in your eyes, like the 'work' you're brushing off is simply an office job and not committing multiple crimes. He doesn't know what he's done to deserve it, but he knows that you're one of the few good things left in his life. He presses his lips against yours, he's never letting you go.

Izana Kurokawa

He loves you so much okay

Like, his heart is overfilling with how much love he has for you

You're perfect in his eyes

It's amazing how he could be blessed with someone like you

He thinks that you're one of the best things that has ever happened in his life

And for the person that he views as an angel, he doesn't want the rotten world corrupting you

He knows how bad the world can get (first hand experience is a bitch) and he doesn't want that for you

He has a smile on his face for every one of the silly things you say

He throws money at you like it's nothing

Is your biggest hypeman

Only wants the best for his queen ❤

"Pretty I was looking for you!" He hears the click clacking of your heels before he sees you. Instinctively, he opens his arms so that you can catapult inside of them. As you bury your nose in his neck, he restrains the urge to laugh at your pet name. Him, pretty. No one else would dare call the leader of Tenjiku that. But you're... different.

"How was your day princess" Brushing his thumb against your cheek.

"It was fine, but," you jut out your bottom lip, "I really missed you-why haven't I seen you all day! "

"You don't remember? " You furrow your brows at the comment, as you try to recall what he's talking about.

He laughs, a light laugh that doesn't fit what he's saying. "You told me some guys were talking shit about your gorgeous outfit, I dealt with them."

You pull away from him and see that his fists are dripping with blood. You gasp, and he wonders if you're mad at him. If, finally, you're going to leave him like everyone else. But, you've seen his darker side before, surely you won't leave him for something like this.

Proving him right, you clasp your hands around one of his and start to gently kiss each knuckle. "Thank you pretty, you shouldn't have." Your kisses leave behind some lipstick residue but Izana doesn't mind, he watches you in complete awe. He brings up his other hand and cups the side of your face gently. "Anything for you, my queen."

#tokyo revengers fluff #tokyo revengers scenarios #tokyo revengers headcanons #tokyo revengers x reader #kazutora x reader #kazutora fluff #mikey x reader #manjiro x reader #manjiro fluff #mikey fluff #izana x reader #izana fluff #accidentally made myself fall for Izana #tokyo revengers imagines

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hiraya-rawr · 2 years

Text

The Painter’s Muse (Diluc/Painter)

synopsis !! a soft fic where you came from a family of painters, painting the Ragnvindr family for generations.

cw !! 1.5k words, gn reader, pet names, reader adores diluc, muse-concept

notes !! I was in the mood for something gentle today // just a quick fic

You met him at a very young age in your family’s painting studio.

It happened right after your father came home from an important commission, all the way from the countryside of Mondstadt. Your father was setting up the rather large canvas on the easel, pushing aside tubes of paint and newspapers scattered around the floor.

“I just need to start on the details, then it’s on its way back to the Dawn Winery,” Your father said, “Would you like to help me?”

Usually, you’d start nodding in excitement; overjoyed at the prospect of helping in the family’s honorable business of painting, but this time your eyes were distracted by the red of the portrait.

Your father’s paints had always been of the best quality, but this was the first time you’ve seen such a red stare back at you. Like ruby and fire, it was bright and enrapturing.

“Sweetheart?”

“He’s pretty. . .” You mumbled almost quietly, entranced. Your father chuckled, hiding a smile behind his hand.

“He is, isn’t he? That’s the young master, Diluc Ragnvindr.”

Diluc. It suited him; yet, it felt strange to be able to fit an entire being into such a short name.

“Perhaps someday, you would be the one to paint him. Now, go get my brushes, I’ll teach you how to render this portrait.”

When you turned 10, your father brought you along to a city manor. Maids greeted your entrance at every corner as you were led to the salon, oak moldings and velvet decorating every wall and furniture. A tall man waited by the door, welcoming your father. His hair was just as red as the portraits.

“I hope you don’t mind that I brought my child along. They’re learning the ropes of painting,” Your father gestures to you as you bow your head, trying not to hide behind his legs.

The crimson man laughed, “Not at all! I’ve been bringing my sons to the taverns as well.”

As your father sets up his easel and as the maids rearrange the furniture by a scenic window, the older man (whom you now know as Master Crepus) goes on to chat about his sons. The conversation flew; from sunsettia juice to knight training to a new addition to their family (hence the reason for the new family portrait).

“Father, we’re done.”

Two boys enter the room, dressed amicably as maids held onto a pair of ceremonial coats. One of them had hair as dark as midnight blue, and the other. . .

“Pretty. . .”

If you thought the red of the portrait was beautiful, then you weren’t prepared to meet the red you see in real life. Untamable fiery curls, held back by a ponytail, a wide smile on his lips that reached the eyes you’ve dreamed of seeing so much.

He’s so, so pretty, you wanted to capture the memory.

That night when you returned to the studio, you took out your best cotton papers –ones you’ve been saving for when you felt confident– and laid out every red paint you owned. Even after days of trying to recreate the image of him in that room, none could ever stand next to the memory of him.

As you grew older, you got used to the red. You’ve visited the Ragnvindr mansion and the Dawn Winery multiple times with your father, watching and even assisting their portraits. From painting them when they were first granted as knights, to the Cavalry Captain’s inauguration, to the several other ceremonial events held by the Knights or the Winery.

You’ve interacted.

He’s called you by name with lips that fascinated you and he’s escorted you home on days when a painting breached the late hours.

You’ve seen his red eyes up close.

You’ve dubbed them as so many things; a fireplace on a winter night, ruby gemstones, twirling windwheel asters– Perhaps you were seeking to define him into something that was containable for you, but none of which could perfectly capture the Diluc Ragnvindr you know of.

This often warranted teasing from his normally meek brother.

“Paint a portrait, it’ll last longer.” Kaeya once commented as you stared at his brother from afar.

“I’m trying.” You huff.

Then came the time when the Ragnvindrs stopped commissioning portraits. How could they? When there were no Ragnvindrs left in Mond to paint.

But life moved on; you took over your family’s business, Kaeya went to further his career in the knights, and Diluc. . .

It frustrated you. Four years without a glimpse of him as your memory was dwindling.

You were in no means a fanatic, but every other night, you tried to recreate his image at a corner of your sketchbook, or a spare paper in the studio, yet no red could perfectly replicate him.

No amount of portraits you’ve painted of him could actually depict him.

His arrival back to Mond was lackluster. You cross him in Angel’s Share and the image of him was different. He contrasted every bright portrait you made of him but he struck your devotion all the same.

‘I should buy more dark paints. . .’ You think to yourself and you did. You waited months, and months turned to a year and a year added a few more months before he stepped in your studio himself.

By then, the dark paints you bought have already been used and replaced multiple times.

“Master Diluc, what could I do for you?” You greet as though this were any other day he came in with his family for a portrait.

“A. . . portrait. To hang in the study, atop a fireplace.” He does not elaborate how he needs to replace his father’s portrait, nor the fact that it took him a year to take it down.

You nod your head, “Should I visit the winery? Or would you like to schedule an appointment here-”

“I was hoping to have it done today. Now, if your schedule permits.”

You smile, inviting him into the private area of the studio where portraits are normally taken. Large windows open to sunshine, with the curtains gently flowing with the wind. Mondstadt is a land blessed by this comfort, after all.

“Please take a seat, I’ll set up my materials right away.”

It’s quiet as he sits across from you. Decades of practice has allowed him the patience for this. You hold your breath as you paint his eyes, trying to capture the reflection of light. Normally, you wouldn’t go for the details so quickly, but there was something about the stare of the portrait.

You went through everything else with ease. The shadow of his adam’s apple, the curve of his lips– you added scars you didn’t know about next to his childhood ones.

“I’m glad you’re back,” You say at some point, “I was beginning to forget what you looked like.”

“We’ve known each other since we were children. Am I that easy to forget?” He doesn’t mean to make it sound teasing but the implication felt like it.

The answer is No. He’s not easy to forget at all, not with every portrait you’ve made of him. You probably knew more details of his face than he knows himself.

“Four years is a long time.” You glance at him from behind the canvas, “But. . .” With a brush raised to its eyes, you make a small swatch of bright red, “You’re still as alluring as ever.”

Diluc doesn’t react until you put down your brush on the table, indicating that you’re done. He stands, approaching you to stand by your side, a hand over your chair as he leans down to see your progress. At this angle, his face is right next to yours.

He doesn’t comment on the painting, instead he speaks softly.

“I didn’t mean to make you wait,” He says, this time turning to you, “The painting is well done. As always.”

You hold back a breath, biting down on your lip, “The finished portrait will be shipped to the winery after it has half dried. It’ll take about a week.” You say as you stand to gather your things.

“Won’t you come?” Diluc straightens himself, “To the winery.”

You hide a small laugh behind your hand, “At least take me to dinner first.”

His face flushes, it’s not as red as his hair but you wonder if you could paint him pink next time, “I meant for a portrait. The main hall requires a new one.”

You nod along, a simple “I’ll add it to my schedule,” before walking out to leave the private room and send him on his way. A gloved hand to your wrist stops you, turning you around to meet red eyes. You think again how your portraits could do him no justice.

“Or I could take you to dinner, and we could both leave for the winery,” He suggests and you feel his hand reach up to your cheek.

You couldn’t reply; it’s because of the red – the same red that captured you since childhood.

His thumb brushes your lower lip, you spot the red glance down before meeting your eyes again. Perhaps you weren’t the only one entranced.

“Will that be alright?” His voice is soft and low, almost unsure.

For once, you stop staring at him, eyes fluttering close as you lean closer.

“That would be perfect.”

masterlist 2

taglist !! @absolut-wildflower @boundedbyfate @sadlonelybagel @eissaaaa @ladycoleigh @nejibot @milkypompon @bloodreaper08 @irethepotato @x-zho @roriver @mich-cola @mxsomn @ackrylik @nicebonescomrade @starforecasts @stygianoir @nejibot @yuminako @eccedentesiast-sapphic @nebulaera @nuttytani

#diluc #diluc x reader #genshin #genshin impact #genshin imagines #kaeya #genshin fluff #genshin diluc #diluc ragnvindr #diluc fluff

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enchanting-eloquence · 2 years

Text

Let's get physical (Bradley Bradshaw)

Summary: Something about nice guy fellow pilot Bradley Rooster Bradshaw has always rubbed you up the wrong way. Until an encounter in the gym reminds you nothing about Rooster - or your feelings about him - are quite what you'd thought they were.

3.9k words

Author notes: I am definitely not a gym goer, so forgive me if I've got any terms or details wrong. Also, I'm generally not a Rooster girl, but I've learned I really enjoy writing about him! Thank you so much as always for reading! All comments, likes and shares are always hugely appreciated.

Warnings: Porn with a little plot, minors do not engage there is nothing for you here! Semi-public sex, bad language, unprotected sex (be safe kids!), fingering, p in v sex, some angst. I think that's all.

Let's get physical

Your favourite thing about work was flying for sure, but gym time came a close second. There was something about lifting weights, working on your muscles until they were almost numb that never failed to calm your anxiety and get you all the way back into your body. And an empty gym where you could work out alone with only your earbuds for company? Bliss.

The music was loud and the workout was sweaty - the perfect way to start the day, but it meant you didn’t know you had company until those thick thighs were in front of the weights bench where you had sat for some simple butterfly presses and there was nowhere else to look but at him.

“Need a spotter y/c/s?”

“Go away Rooster.”

Bradley Rooster Bradshaw ran a hand through his hair. “Ouch y/c/s. Last I heard we’re part of the same team.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Not out of choice. And when I’m in the gym I’m a one-woman team.” Tilting your head you smiled sweetly at him. “Don’t let me keep you from working out.”

Shaking his head he turned his back and walked away to work out, broad shoulders rippling under a ridiculous muscle vest that wouldn’t have looked out of place in an 80s action movie.

It wasn’t that you had any reason to dislike Rooster - almost everyone you spoke to had only good things to say about him; but something about him had rubbed you up the wrong way since you’d first crossed paths at the naval academy.

Maybe it was the hint of nepotism you got whenever you saw him with Maverick, an influential figure in the US Navy despite the behaviour that earned his callsign; maybe it was his determination to be slow, steady and considered in a world that needed fast reactions and daredevil attitudes; or maybe it was just the fact that everyone was so damned nice about him - even the notoriously awkward Hangman had been won over just a few months before. Whatever the reason, Bradley Bradshaw set your nerves on edge and the last thing you wanted was to have him get involved in your morning workout.

Not that it was bad to share a gym with him, you considered despite yourself, as your eyes wandered over to the far corner of the room, where you could clearly see his reflection on the mirror. Long, muscular legs pounding against the treadmill with a pert, peachy ass bobbing above them, and the slightest trace of sweat beginning to gather between those perfectly defined shoulder blades as a sign of just how dedicated he was to the cause.

Shaking your head you turned away.

Focus on the workout, y/c/s. Don’t be stupid.

As you moved to the barbell, you found yourself just in front of Rooster. He smiled briefly as he caught your eye, but quickly turned his attention back to his own weights while you tried to concentrate on the task at hand.

Nonetheless he was there, pecs and shoulders rippling as he carried out ten sets of chest presses, light grunts leaving his lips with each rep.

You let out a long breath - it was hot. No, you corrected yourself. You were hot. Working out in a gym with no a/c had to be the reason for your raised temperature, maybe even the quick twist in your gut that made itself known every few minutes.

Your music continued to blast in your ears while Rooster worked out with one eye on the TV sports news, only pausing to drink deeply from a tall bottle of water every few minutes. It was a companionable silence in many ways, the two of you keeping out of each other’s way as you moved around the gym in your own rhythm.

Finally, all other exercises done, it was time to take on your arch nemesis. You made your way over to the chin-up bar and stood before it with hands on hips. No matter how hard you trained elsewhere, this was always the exercise you struggled with, and after months of point blank avoiding it, in your most recent physical you’d been told in no uncertain terms that your shoulder extension needed work and this was the way to do it. So here you were, preparing for the daily ritual that saw you dangling from the bar without, so far, any ability to lift yourself up.

Coating your hands in chalk you climbed up and grabbed the bar, before pushing yourself away from the step and, yup, dangling. Willing every ounce of energy into your shoulders you gripped, pulled… and moved no more than a quarter of an inch upwards as your entire body began to tremble.

You relaxed, closing your eyes as you took deep breaths and tensed again, grunting this time as you tried desperately to force yourself up and again, failed miserably to move.

Growling quietly, you tried one more time, moving your legs in the hope that the momentum would pull you forwards, but instead felt your hands slipping as you began to fall from the bar. The movement raised a squeal that, in any other circumstance, would have embarrassed the hell out of you.

The big hands were on your waist even as the noise left your mouth, gripping you in place with a heat that seemed to scald your flesh.

“Whoah, y/c/s. You ok?”

Cheeks burning, you reset your grip and tried to wriggle away. “Just trying to do some chin ups Bradshaw. Thanks for the save but I’ll be good.”

He paused a moment, nodding appraisingly when he was comfortable you were safe and then stepping back. “Let’s see it then.”

“What?”

“The chin-up.”

You almost spat out a laugh. “What? No. I don’t perform on demand.”

He folded his arms across his chest and you tried not to notice the way the stupid vest tightened in all the right places.

“Nope, I want proof you’re safe.”

You rolled your eyes and tried desperately to ignore the burning in your shoulders as you shifted. “What are you? My guardian Angel now?”

Rooster grinned, moustache dancing on his lip. “I’m headed for the showers after this. And if you fall while you’re in here alone I’ll never forgive myself. So either you prove to me you can do a chin up, or I stick around until you’re done. I can even help if you-.”

“No!” You barked, rolling your eyes as you mustered all of your strength and tried desperately to pull up with a grunt. It was no use, and you hissed out a curse at the failure.

Rooster stepped forward, one hand coming up to the bar as he gently tapped your fingers. “Your first problem is your hands. They need to be wider.”

“I don’t need you to show me how to do a fucking chin up.”

“What did I do to piss you off y/c/s?”

Existed. You thought. Walked around here like the golden boy of the Navy. “Who said you pissed me off?”

He gazed into your eyes for a second, but only shook his head, Adam’s apple bobbing. “Ok, hands wide. OK if I hold you?”

“I-,” you began to protest. Then realised it was quicker and easier to let the man help you. Christ knows that upper body looked like it had spent more than a little time on this bar. “Fine.”

He breathed out a short laugh. “Not exactly how I like a lady to answer that question, but ok. Hold on.”

Hands on your hips, you felt him take the bulk of your weight, found your pulse quickening and silently cursed yourself for the automatic reaction to being held so firmly.

“Ok I’ve got you.” He murmured gently, voice betraying not a hint of strain. “Now pull yourself up. Get the technique right and the rest will follow.”

Of course it was easier when you were practically weightless. Easier even when he let go a little and you found that you were pulling up only half of your own weight five times on the bounce.

“See, you’ve got it. It’ll be easier from now on. But that can wait until tomorrow, right?”

The grin was too perfect, the eyes too damned kind, and you were sure as hell determined not to have Bradley Bradshaw telling the world you could only manage the chin up bar when he held you there.

You shook your head. “No. I’ve come this far, I can do a full one.”

He opened his mouth to speak but clearly thought better of it, stepping back with a shrug.

You took a deep breath, followed exactly what he’d shown you before, pulled… and found your exhausted hands slipping again.

Once again he was there, but this time his hands went to your back; grabbing but not quite supporting you, so you had no choice but to reach back, hands on his biceps and knees awkwardly landing on either side of those broad hips.

His eyes met yours. “Ok?”

You wanted to give a witty retort, really you did. But suddenly he was just too close, your sweaty bodies pressed together and him holding you tightly as you clung on far tighter than you’d like to admit.

Your breath caught in your throat as your eyes stayed locked. “Let me down.”

“Y/c/s -.”

You squirmed and immediately regretted the decision as you saw his cheeks pink and felt your own core tighten at the friction against his shorts.

“Rooster let me the fuck down.”

But he only gripped tighter, one hand pulling your butt into him while the other pressed between your shoulder blades.

You froze, both of you gazing awkwardly at the other and unwilling to move even a muscle.

“Seriously y/c/s, what is your problem with me?”

You flushed darker and opened your mouth to speak, stumbling over your words. “You really want to know?”

Jaw set, he nodded.

You threw back your head. “You’re just so fucking nice Rooster. So sensible, so good, everybody’s best friend.” You moved one hand up to gesture wildly. “I’m out here, sweating my ass off in the gym every day, putting my heart and soul into everything I do just so people will accept I’m good enough and you,” you jabbed a finger in his chest and saw his eyes widen. “It all comes easy doesn’t it? You don’t even need to show any fire. Who ever heard of a fucking fighter pilot without fire?!”

His voice was tight, low. “That’s not fair, I’ve got fire.”

“Oh really? Then maybe it only burns when I’m not there huh? Because whenever I’m around you’re just nice, dependable, laid-back Rooster -.”

You were cut off on a gasp as he tightened his group on you, fisting one hand in your hair while his mouth simply took yours.

And took was the word. There was no gentleness, no calm; just the hard pressure of his lips against yours and nothing but sensation as his tongue forced its way into your mouth.

You gasped into the kiss, inhaling only him as your hand clung desperately to his shoulders, still gasping as his mouth moved down your neck, sucking and biting while his hands pulled your hair back so hard it stung.

“Passion?” He growled into your neck. “Y/c/s, when you’re around, the only thing I fucking feel is passion.”

You pulled back and looked at him, chest heaving as you watched through heavy-lidded eyes. “I’m Mr Nice Guy to you y/c/s because it’s either that or I rip your fucking clothes off.”

Something within you snapped and you remembered the first time you’d ever met Bradley Bradshaw - tall, dark, dangerously handsome - and had declared loudly that your career was way too important for you to get involved with another pilot. You let out a groan that was part embarrassment and part lust, and hung your head as you realised just what it was that pissed you off about Rooster’s niceness; that nice was the very last thing you’d ever wanted him to be.

“Y/c/s?”

When your eyes met his again, there was a fire within you, and your hand moved up to his hair. “So maybe my problem is that it takes everything in me not to rip your fucking clothes off too. And that I don’t want you to be nice.”

He gave an animalistic growl and stepped forward, slamming you against the wall with a pain as delicious as the feel of his lips sucking your neck, his fingers digging into your ass, and his erection pressing against your core.

You groaned and pulled him up by the hair, biting at his lip before flicking out your tongue to entwine with his. Your free hand was on his chest, pushing its way inside the low neck of the vest in a desperate attempt to find more bare flesh, and your hips rutted against his until he groaned.

“We can’t,” he gasped into your mouth. “Someone could come in…”

“Playing it safe again Rooster?”

The eyes that gazed hungrily back at you as he pulled away were so dark they were almost black. “Or maybe I just want you for myself.”

Boosting you up and pinning you tightly against his waist he began to walk through the gym, long strides which bounced you against him in ways that made you whimper.

“Hurry. Hurry.” Your mouth was on him now, teeth scraping at his throat, cheeks rubbing against the scarred jaw covered in a sharp layer of morning stubble.

He shoved you through it, going directly to the shower room in the corner and carrying you comfortably into the nearest cubicle. When he pulled back to lock the door, you took the space as an opportunity and grabbed at his vest, tugging the the material up with both hands so that, when he finally set you down, you were faced with rock hard, honey gold abs. You had a moment to stare and swore you felt your mouth water before he was on you again, tugging up the Lycra of your sports bra as his mouth once again took yours. When he paused to drag his eyes over your bare breasts you heard him growl deep in his throat.

“Fuck y/c/s. These tits.”

There was nothing slow or gentle about the way Rooster attacked your breasts, squeezing at the thick flesh as he bit and sucked at your nipples. It was a ferocity you’d never seen in him before, one you’d once thought he was lacking. But now, as it sent heat exploding out to every cell of your body, you fleetingly realised this side of Rooster really had been there all along, concealed by only the thinnest layer of control masquerading as slow and steady.

But there was no control now as he feasted on your tits, making you whimper as your nipples became so hard they hurt.

No slowness as he snaked a hand inside your tight shorts, shoving your panties aside as his hand pressed against your sopping core.

If his touch hadn’t already made your knees buckle, the deep groan that left his lips finished the job. He lifted his head back, making a filthy wet popping noise as your nipple left his mouth, and gazed down at your still clothed core.

“You’re so fucking wet,” he wondered aloud.

“You made me that way Bradshaw. Maybe you should do something about it.”

The words were like a red rag to a bull, and suddenly he was tugging your shorts and panties down your legs and dropping to the tiled floor himself until his face was directly in front of your pussy.

He licked his lips, actually licked his lips, as he inspected you, and then flicked his eyes up to your face while he ran two fingers along the length of your slit, watching the way you shuddered when he reached your clit and rolled the sensitive bud between his fingers. You whimpered, eyes rolling back in your head, and heard him draw in a breath before replacing them with his thumb while curling those fingers up inside you.

“Feel good y/c/s?”

You breathed out a laugh. “You’re inside me Bradshaw, use my name.” You’d tried to sound cocky, but as he moved again, you whimpered and fluttered around him.

He said nothing, just watched you earnestly as his fingers moved in and out, teasing out sinful noises that came louder and louder.

“Fuck Bradley, fuck.” You hissed, nails digging into his broad shoulders as the curse came faster and faster, louder and louder while the pressure inside you built higher and higher until, with a flick of his wrist, you came apart on his fingers.

Bradley worked you through the orgasm and then sat back on his heels, staring at the wetness covering you both in a way that made him groan gently.

Your breaths were still coming ragged when he placed his hands on your hips and began to kiss his way back up your front, gentle butterfly kisses that seemed almost impossible given the size of his hands on your sides and the way that he’d just driven you at 100 miles an hour through the best orgasm of your life. As he reached your breasts, he took a moment to simply feast; using his broad hands to push them together until he swirled his tongue around your joined nipples, gazing up at you in awe as you whispered his name. You let yourself drown in the sensation for a moment before touching your hands to his rough cheeks and pulling his mouth up until you could kiss him like a woman possessed.

“Still think I’m boring?” He asked, his voice low and almost swallowed up by your mouth.

You laughed into his mouth, moving back to flick your tongue over his lower lip as you replied. “I didn’t say you were boring…” As much to distract him as from your desire to have him naked, you reached for his gym shorts, enjoying the way he shuddered as you took his erection in your hand through the fabric. As you began to tug down the shorts, you moved to crouch, but Rooster reached out to stop you.

“Next time.” He murmured, capturing your mouth with his once again.

“But I-.”

Those big brown eyes simply stared into yours as he shook his head once again and helped you to tug down the shorts. “I’ve waited long enough.”

He was longer than you had expected, and thick enough to stretch the palm of your hand as you gave him a couple of slow, experimental strokes simply to watch the way his eyes rolled back in his head. Rooster braced his hands on either side of the wall behind your head, throwing his head back as you continued to move, using the pre-cum that seeped from his tip as lubrication right the way down to the heavy balls at his base, and noticing the way he grunted as you sped up a little. Continuing your movements you leaned forwards, licking a stripe up the side of his neck and grunting gently as you tasted the tang of his sweat. You were about to move to the other side when he suddenly shifted, capturing your lips once again as his hands returned to your waist.

“Ready?”

Gazing into those eyes again you nodded, breathing heavily and wrapping your legs around his waist as he simply lifted you onto his cock. There was no gentleness here, no pausing to let you get used to his size as he rutted up into you. But there was no need. You were wet and open for him, your body pulling every inch of him inside of you as you both groaned with the sensation.

“Fuck,” You whispered again, bringing a crooked smile to his face.

“That all you can say y/n?” He murmured, beginning to move his hips until every other word was punctuated by his tip nudging the most sensitive parts of you. “Or have I fucked the words out of your head already?

You nodded dumbly, eyes wide and teeth biting into your lower lip as he continued to thrust into you, the angle stretching every part of your insides enough to have you crying out over and over again.

“You OK there princess?”

“You’re, so, fucking, big,” you panted, and were rewarded by another crooked grin as he only doubled his efforts, gripping your hips to fuck you even further into the wall.

You felt your orgasm build again, hard and fast as quicksilver, and heard yourself begin to mumble incoherently as he shifted to swipe a thumb back and forth across your clit. Your whole world was the increasing pulse of pleasure as he pressed his lips to your neck and groaned, and still you could say nothing but another steady stream of curse words while he moved inside you over and over again.

“You going to give me another one princess? Look at me when you come with me, ok?”

You nodded, using every ounce of your resolve to keep your eyes open as he thrust deeper and harder, the lewd, wet sounds of your bodies moving together the soundtrack as one final snap of his hips had you falling apart around him. The cry was torn from your throat and you heard him answer with a loud moan as his hips jerked seemingly of their on accord and he spilled himself within you, his pulsing orgasm only adding to the sensation of your release while his head landed heavy upon your shoulder.

The two of you stayed like that for what seemed like minutes, both breathing heavily as your hot, damp bodies seemed glued together. As the sensation slowly returned to every part of your body, you began to feel the discomfort of the cold tiles behind you and ran a hand through the sun-bleached dark curls that rested on your chest. When there was no movement, you shifted slightly and heard him curse softly.

“What was that about fucking me too damned good to be able to speak?”

Slowly his head lifted, eyes heavy and grin wide as he planted a deep, gentle kiss on your mouth before setting you back down on the tiled floor of the room.

“Well,” you murmured, retrieving your now damp clothes from the floor. “That was unexpected.”

Rooster chuckled softly before grinning back at you. “I’ll say. Want to go get breakfast?”

Now it was your turn to laugh as you pulled your clothes back on. “Don’t you think we need to shower first?”

His eyes flicked up to the shower head behind you as he tilted his head with a shrug and a smile, but you only shook your head.

“Nun uh, who knows what goes on in these showers!” Your eyes met his. “But my place is only five minutes away, maybe we could get some breakfast after we’ve been there?”

He pulled on his clothes faster than you’d ever seen a man move, and as you went to open the door, his hand closed around yours, the other grabbing your messy ponytail to pull you around to face him and push another breath-taking kiss on you; leaving you gasping as he pulled back and raised an eye down.

“Still think I’m too much of a nice guy?”

#top gun maverick fanfiction #top gun maverick smut #bradley rooster bradshaw #rooster x reader #rooster smut #rooster x y/n #rooster x f!reader #bradley bradshaw

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writingpei · 1 year

Text

wicked games (l.m.) - chapter one

series masterlist next chapter

pairing: lee minho x f!reader genre: academic rivals to lovers wc: 4.3k

destiny works in mysterious ways

the first time park y/n was called "smart" was when she was 7.

when you are that young and you have the premature ability to solve a math problem that contained two-digits numbers, you are prone to impress, and impress she did.

she knew she had something special the moment she told her mom what had happened in school that day and a big proud smile blossomed all over her face, so she decided to make the most out of that funny feeling she got whenever someone recognized and pointed out her wittiness.

she liked being "smart". you didn't have to be rich or popular to be smart, you simply were. it was something that came with you, and that gave her a sense of belonging in the rapidity of the world around her, making living something she could eat in small chunks.

it gave her confidence, and, most of all, the illusion that she knew who she was even from an early age. her stride through the halls of her primary school became hard as a soldier’s, because she knew her purpose in this world, even if that meant enclosing herself in such a compact box defined by a single characteristic. it didn't matter, because it gave her security, a foundation for whoever she came to be in the future.

until it all came to shreds.

they say destiny works in mysterious ways, and she believed that well enough. park y/n will never forget march 1st, 2006, because it was the day she, unfortunately, learned about lee minho's existence on planet earth and this spiritual plane. the day her life was ruined forever.

one could always argue upon her blind hatred since she didn't even know his name yet, however, when he walked into the classroom with his cocky face and his perfectly dressed school uniform, she immediately knew he was going to be trouble.

growing up, she was very wary of other kids who were dressed too nicely, too tidy, too spoiled. at that moment, it was almost as if something in the air had changed, a never-ending tension set in her core amidst the squeals of elementary school students excited about the beginning of the school year.

"everybody, could someone tell me what are the three physical states of water?", with everybody already in their seats, the teacher opened up the first class with a question.

y/n obviously knew the answer, so she raised her hand, ready to say it out loud. back at her old school, she was the only kid that ever raised her hand to answer the teacher's questions, so her surprise was practically palpable when she realized that the teacher was looking at something behind her, at the back of the room.

"yes, minho?"

"liquid, solid and gas, miss?" y/n felt her hand slowly returning to the top of her desk and her shoulders slumping, along with her entire spirit.

she has never had any familiarity with competition, giving how much she shone academically in the space she studied before.

fighting the voice in her head, y/n turned quickly to get a good look at this "minho".

she wasn't surprised when she found out the smug-looking boy from earlier. what made her blood boil, however, was the way he was looking directly at her while being praised by the teacher. he must have seen her with her arm up, ready to answer, and the smirk that marked his lips translated into nothing but a challenge in her rapidly-working mind.

that's what started it all.

it became a never-ending cycle: she would be going about her life as normal until lee minho showed up as a terrifyingly yet loathsome ghost, ready to spoil whatever peace she was having.

it happened when she entered the chess club back when she was 12, and, to no one's surprise, he walked through the door right after her. both were kicked out of the club by the next day anyway. the match they were determined to play against one another lasted almost 6 hours, preventing all the other members of the club from having the opportunity to play as well (and the monitor apparently found that "unfair" to the other kids).

there was also that time, when they were both at the age of 13, in art class, where y/n tried to replicate the movement technique that was used by monet in water lilies. she had been determinedly busy with that piece of work for weeks now. minho tried to do a retelling of some stupid picasso painting. when he walked past her desk to get another brush at the front of the room, he ended up bumping into a pot of blue paint that was laying by her canvas, ruining all of y/n's progress along with her uniform. in a combination of blue and red that tainted and heated up her face in anger, the only thing he managed to say to her was a "well, at least now is much better that the hideous thing you were doing before". she had no appeal in being expelled, so she didn't jump on his neck right then and there, refraining from making him apologize on his knees forcefully. instead, she just filled her lungs calmly and proceeded to shoot out the most obscene curses she knew up to that point in time (it was, in a way, an admirably large and effective vocabulary).

if you thought lee minho has some limit or social block to becoming even more annoying and inconvenient, you are terribly wrong. the advanced literature class was almost a private wrestling ring for both of them when they were 15. the best grade on the end-of-year assignment was the ultimate goal because whoever did the best article on a classic would win an award in front of the entire school and would have their text sent to a professional journalist. while minho chose to do it on the great gatsby, y/n decided to explore the feminine theme behind madame bovary, and without even having picked up pen and paper yet, she already knew deep down that her research would crumple whatever silly text he even thought of writing. that's if he even knew how to, in the first place.

everything was going according to what she planned; her text was well-grounded and her thesis had become very clear in that process, seeking the comprehension of the reader. her calm state was thrown into the trash, however, when minho went to the teacher's desk to ask questions about his thesis and she ended up overhearing that he had already written 25 pages.

she had only written 17 at that point.

y/n had always believed that quantity didn't mean quality, but knowing that he had been more competent than her and had a repertoire to fill more pages than she did brewed a warm, nagging feeling of anger in her stomach. even though her text was closing perfectly with what she already had, she kept in her head that you can always go deeper into things, and more knowledge was never too much.

she started researching more and more and adding as much information as she could in order to fill in at least 26 pages - and so she did.

now it was her turn. with the messy draft papers under her arm, she confidently strolled to the teacher's desk to ask about the development of her text. when she asked how many pages she had written, y/n took a deep breath, opened a proud smirk and said in a louder voice, but not too openly, "26".

move completed. walking back to her class, she noticed minho's eyes narrowed in her direction, his tongue running over his teeth.

she could never be in advantage for way too long when it came to lee minho.

the next day, when she was going to get something to drink from the vending machine, y/n was surprised to see him leaning with his back against the wall in front of it along with a friend, both looking around incessantly, as if searching for something. skeptically, y/n continued her path to get her water, but with slower steps and a small frown on her face now. when minho noticed her presence and his eyes looked deep into hers, he slightly kicked the friend next to him, who jumped and fixed the glasses that were sliding down his nose.

"h-hey minho, how is your project going?" the blond boy with the big glasses stammered. y/n hated herself for paying attention to whatever conversation lee minho was having, but giving how close the pair were to the vending machine didn't help her one bit.

"what project are we talking about, yongbok?" she wanted to vomit. she, unfortunately, knew minho enough to know when he was faking sweetness and innocence, due to the uncountable times he used it with teachers in front of her. his pitch would go up and the smile he was trying his best not to make it be known was audible in his voice.

"the o-one from advanced literature" yongbok managed to get it out.

"aaaah" she heard minho chuckling as she inserted coin after coin into the machine. "i've got 34 pages by now".

she pressed the number of her water more forcefully than she intended. and he probably noticed.

"what? you had 25 by yesterday!" his friend exclaimed, actually seeming surprised.

"ah, you know..." the bottle of water dropped but y/n didn't move, eyes focused on the white lights of the machine, hearing little steps coming closer to her carefully. "i don't know what happened either, i guess i just got a... peak of motivation yesterday" his voice was closer to her than before, and y/n's hands were balled into fists. "let's go, yongbok, i don't want to be late for p.e.".

y/n skipped p.e.

that was the first time she ever skipped any class, but a battle was installed and she would rather die than give lee minho the satisfaction of winning over her. that's why she ducked into the school library and started to get as many books that could help with her research and went to work.

"knowledge is gold, knowledge is gold, knowledge is gold, y/n, knowledge is gold..." she repeated like a mad person. perhaps she was becoming mad. perhaps he was making her mad. she was normal before his stupid face made way into her life, wasn't she? she couldn't quite remember who she was before he came along to be the bane of her fucking existence.

by the end of the week, that is, when the article was supposed to be given to the teacher, she had managed to fill in 50 sheets from top to bottom. it was a safe number and she knew she had left minho to eat the dust she left behind. she was looking like a zombie for dodging sleep for a few days now in order to achieve her goal, but still proud and confident.

the classes felt like they didn't pass, and 10am seemed like an unattainable delirium that never arrived. until it did.

"everyone, please bring your assignments to my desk" miss young spoke, and the war enemies in the classroom were obviously the first ones to get up and go up to her desk.

miss young's surprised face was explicit as the two extended their works at the same time.

"hum..." she started, unsure. "how many pages did you write?".

again, in the same second, they both let out a proud "50", too focused on themselves to pay attention to what the other had said in the first place.

the entire class became uproar, the other students not having even managed to write 5 full pages, but y/n barely noticed. when reality came up to her, she looked at him with wide eyes. the realization of her sharing the same train of thought with an asshole such as lee minho makes y/n want to throw up everything she had for breakfast and tear her hair out with her bare hands. even with an equally surprised look coming from him, the annoyingly teasing smirk that was his trademark and also the source of y/n's daily anger appeared without further ado. it was obvious he was making fun of the whole situation while she succumbed to the disappointment she felt in herself, bubbling in the pit of her stomach.

the days that followed were marked by the tension of the rest of the students, as everyone was invested in which of the two would win the fateful prize. it wasn't that they really cared about a silly prize from a literature class, but rather the endless conflict between the school's two brains.

when she was heading to the locker room after a torturous gym class, she was stopped in her tracks by a boy sitting in the bleachers, a towel slung lazily around his broad shoulders and a bottle of water used as a freshener on his forehead. she had never spoken to him, but she had walked through the halls of that place enough to know that his name was changbin. as she passed in front of him, he called out for her with a short whistle.

"hey, you" he said. his lack of politeness deeply irritated y/n, but she stood still, waiting to see what he had to say. "did you win?" he asked.

"win what?"

"that silly award from literature class" he clarified, opening his water and taking a sip.

crossing her arms and softly scoffing, she asked "why do you want to know? were you also running to win it?"

"nah" he laughed, closing the bottle. "i didn't even turn in mine. i was just interested in whether it was you or the playboy who won it".

she looked in the opposite direction from where they were both talking, at the bleachers on the other side of the court, where minho was receiving two water bottles by two girls from the year below, their eyes had a dreamy, sickeningly sweet look to them, and she simply couldn't not feel sorry for the girls. the pair os girls talked nonstop, making minho visibly dizzy, but still, smug with the attention. changbin was more than correct, the nickname "playboy" fit perfectly with the boy's snobbish personality, although y/n had ideas of others that were a little more... hostile and explicit.

"i didn't yet, but i will, you can bet on it" she said, finally, still looking at the boy at the other side of the room with disgust.

anyone can reasonably imagine everyone's (really, everyone's) surprise when the final result was announced.

"what?!" both y/n and minho exclaimed.

"you two can't hand me the best papers i've ever received from high school students throughout my decades of lecturing career and expect me to pick just one of them. both of you will win the prize and that's the end of it. you should be happy about it!"

"but, miss young..." y/n tried to stand up for herself. losing to him was a reasonable justification for masking her stomach turn, however, being put on the same level as he was offensive and degrading.

for fuck's sake, she skipped class to do this stupid article, fought the urge to pluck gustave flaubert from his grave, bring him back to life and kill him once more, avoided sleeping, read until her eyes burned, and wrote until she couldn't feel her fingers anymore. that's what her effort was worth. all to get onstage with the federal idiot lee minho and win the same award as him, being required to have a grateful smile on her face and thank the adults who only did as much as read the product of her hell on earth for the inexplicably amazing opportunity.

"no 'but', miss park, we are finished here. be grateful for what you've got up to this point". miss young ended the conversation, gathered her materials and left the room.

"man, that was a bummer..." minho starts saying, humor plastered in his voice.

"shut up, i can't even listen to your voice right now" she interrupted, walking back to her desk.

"wow" he says, bouncing after her. when she sat down on her chair, he stopped in front of her, holding out a fisted hand as if he was holding out a microphone. "tell me then, park y/n, how are you feeling? disappointed in yourself? impressed? sad? ready to cry? with such fury that you could kill 5 helpless orphans?"

y/n only takes a deep breath, trying to keep what composure she still has left in her body.

"do you have any idea of how unbelievably annoying you actually are?" she asks, frankly. "you really needed to put your stupid brain into writing the 50 pages. god! 50 is a specific fucking number!"

"huuum..." he looks up, pretending he's making a lot of effort to think. suddenly, he opens a playful smirk. "i'm not annoying enough to have you ignore me, apparently".

"i think you're hallucinating and seeing things that don't actually exist. have you considered going to a psychologist to see what's wrong with you... here?" she replied, softly poking her own head to emphasize her point even more - the point being that lee minho was an imbecile, regardless of how many 100% scores he scored on countless tests, how many of his papers were praised by professors, and how many ugly academic olympic trophies he won.

"ouch, you hurt my feelings being like that" he pretends to take an invisible arrow from his chest. suddenly, from one second to the next, his face turns completely serious "you know, this whole situation pisses me off too, because it will make you think you are closer to my level than you are, and i hate how smug you get when you think you have more capabilities than you actually do, so you think you have what it takes to go head-to-head with someone like me...". he then places his hands on her class and lowers himself so that her eyes level with his "and, as much of a gentleman as i am, i'm not one to go easy on anyone, especially not you, y/n".

"you talk way too much for your own good, minho" she doesn't back down even though what he said had the slightest impact on her, but it is quickly smothered back inside, under lock and key. instead, she raises her chin slightly. "the thing is that you are a brainless moron, so i can't bring myself to understand whatever you are trying to babble no matter how much i try to".

"ha" he scoffs, but stares her down for a couple more second before saying "let's go grab something to eat, yongbok, i'm already bored".

the day they were to receive the award was a gray day as if the heavens had such empathy for her and behaved according to the sadness of the occasion. after a speech that neither of them paid attention to, they had to go up on stage together, take the trophies from miss young's hands and take a picture together with plasticized smiles on their faces. despite y/n's disappointment, the other students found the situation humorous, all applauding in an exaggerated matter and making hearts for them from the audience in front of the stage, causing a hot wave of anger to rise through her body. only anger. park y/n didn't get embarrassed, especially next to lee minho.

despite the already eventful timeline of terror that marked unpleasant but fundamental moments for the comprehension of the relationship between y/n and minho, the real switch in their dynamics was when the ranking by grades was introduced in their lives. now everything was, if possible, more public than ever. due to this, if minho scored even 1% higher than her on a test, the remnants of that would be printed on a huge chart that covered the wall of the hall at the entrance to the school, the one in front of the canteen and in a pillar inside the classroom. even if she would have the displeasure of discovering that he had surpassed her in a test through his ridiculous jokes directed at her in the hallways (which often happened), if she performed worse than him, her failure would be exposed to everyone's eyes, and that was not something she craved.

and now it's the first day of y/n's senior year in high school, but she barely notices. her mother is fussing over fixing her hair and uniform as she tries to eat an apple as quickly as possible.

"ah, my baby" her mother whispers, getting emotional at the end of the cycle she watched throughout her daughter's growth.

y/n, however, can only see the shade of purple that already seemed tattooed under the eyes of the exhausted woman in front of her. as much as today should have been an exciting day, she couldn't feel any trace of contentment while looking at her mother these days. she didn't know if that was a bad thought for a daughter to have, but in the back of her mind, she sometimes felt mirth with not needing to see her mother for a few days just to get away from the discomfort that crept up her spine every time she passed by her in the morning.

"mom, mom" she began, struggling to get her hands away from her face and make her pay attention to what she wanted to say. "how many hours did you sleep last night?"

"about 4" but y/n only frowned at her response. "or 3...".

"mom..."

"y/n, this is hospital life. you're need to get used to it, this is how shifts work"

"it's not about that" she tried argumenting.

"so what is it? do you want me to have less shifts? you know i can't do thi-"

"yes" she interrupted, looking away anywhere but her. "yes, i know, that's not what i meant".

after a sigh, she felt her holding her arms lovingly. "you worry too much, don't go clogging your little head with silly things".

"i know"

"just worry about your studies. you know i'll always take care of everything, don't you?"

"i know"

and so she left.

the walk to school was always pleasant, a breath of fresh air before the constant tension that marred the rest of her day. the walk back, during the night, was not so enticing; she knew she would stick her head in textbooks again as soon as she set foot in her room again, and the longed-for rest was never fully achieved, she was always very aware of what was necessary to get her what she wanted in the future.

she enters school without feeling an ounce of excitement and nostalgia that her peers feel on their last first day. what knocked the air out of her lungs, on the contrary, was the physical shock she had against someone who was right in her way as she stormed forward.

she's always seen lee yongbok in a pejorative light (a doormat, a coward, a social slave, though she wouldn't be surprised if she found out minho's parents paid him to hang out with him), and his clumsiness never went unnoticed either. when she stumbles into the blond boy and ends up falling flat on her face in the middle of the school hall, landing with such gracelessness that it seemed divinely orchestrated, she simply couldn't believe it had happened in the very first second she stepped inside the school, on the first day.

"i-i'm sorry i-"

"i can't believe it, you fucking idiot!" she exclaimed, her face's anger reflecting into his internal turmoil. pushing herself back up, she took a look at her bruised knees uncovered due to the uniform skirt, already reddening up. she made a point of throwing him a murderous look, the boy froze and his cheeks started to take on color. if she tried to imagine what a person looked like before crumbling in shame, this would be the vision that would come to mind.

"sometimes i ask myself if, in case you tried hard enough, you could actually stop being such a tremendous bitch" a snickering voice sounds behind her, just as she was contemplating whether the boy in front of her had been frozen in place or if he was simply having a cardiac arrest. "until you're faster and prove to me that it would never be possible, it's in your blood, maybe you enjoy being a prick to people".

she hisses, bending down to get her books that were splattered on the floor. after all that, the last thing that would contribute to her wrecked mood would be listening to whatever shit minho felt like dumping on her about her character as if his was oh-so admirable.

"you know he meant no harm. our yongbok is sweet to everyone and wouldn't hurt a fly on purpose, now would you, yongie?" out of the corner of her eye, she could see that minho had reached the blonde, draping an arm over his shoulders and shaking him affectionately alongside a high-pitched voice, as if he was talking to a dog. she only managed to roll her eyes.

after gathering all her stuff from the floor, she stood up and looked minho straight in the eye. not that he deserved it.

"you make me sick" she said as if bile was getting caught up in her throat simply by directing her speech to him. she wasted no time in leaving to go to the infirmary to put bandaids on her knees, which already felt like they were bleeding slightly, if the faint feeling of delicate droplets dripping to her shin gave away anything.

"there she is!" minho exclaimed, pointing at her, finding her reaction amusing as if she was a comedian, but she had already turned her back on him. "aaaah, this is going to be a very, very long year" and he smirked.

stay tuned for chapter 2! ☆

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riellewashere · 2 years

Text

'She's trying to kill me.'

Eren sat down, sighing. He loosened his tie, manspreading on the velvet couch. He closed his eyes, arm over them, his man-bun, a complete mess. He pictured you in that dress again. It was all he could ever think of. It hugged your figure perfectly. Every curve defined. The way your cleavage was showing perfectly, drove Eren crazy. Eren was positive you were trying to kill him. The perfume you wore, clouded his senses. He had to remember where he was. Sure it was his office, but his boss would kill him if he got no work done.

He sighed again, pinching the bridge of his nose. 'You started this. You'd better finish it.' It was only a matter of time before you walked in again. He didn't care at this point. He would take you on the goddamn desk if he had to. Anything to get rid of the frustration. For now all he could do was wait. He walked over to his desk, to at least try and be productive. That one didn't work at all. He couldn't take it anymore. He shifted uncomfortably in his office chair. This was hell. And the fire was burning him.

He couldn't focus that day. Every time you passed by him, his breath you get caught in his throat, heart pounding like a drum. You knew the effects you had on him. He took out a cigarette and lit the end. Puffing out the smoke, he closed his eyes again picturing you in nothing but your skin. You were like a piece of art. He wanted you. He needed you.

He was hard by just the thought of you. It was like e was being tested. Would he give in to the temptation? It was a difficult choice. You were irresistible. You tempted him like a drug. Your sex was a blessing. Nobody took him like you. Nobody could ever do the things you did to him. 'The little seductress.' He thought, blowing smoke from his lips.

"Fuck." He whispered. He reached down. All the way down to his throbbing member. He took it in his hands and tried to relieve the tension. He tried to conceal his grunts, and groans as he worked his way up and down his member. This was filthy and sinful. He was enjoying himself. You were so perfect to him. Carved and shaped by a God. He let out a breathy groan. Precum leaked from his tip. You were driving him crazy. You probably wore that dress on purpose. Just to frustrate him. He moaned again.

He was about to reach his high, then a knock came from the door. He quickly zipped his trousers up, squashed the cigarette into his ash tray, and called, "C-come in!" His heart pounded. "Sir! I brought the file you as- Eren?" It was you. Dress and all. "You ok? Your face looks red. It is really hot in here." How dare you act so innocent. "You think you can just bat your eyelashes and act like your not at fault?"

You continued to act. You slowly walked over to him. "What ever do you mean, sir?" You said the word slowly. He couldn't take it anymore. In a flash, he slammed you against the desk, breathing down your neck like an animal. "You're gonna regret messing with me like this, darling." He inhaled you like a drug. "Eren.." You whined. "Shh. You started it. You're going to finish it." He whispered sweetly. He kissed you slowly, and hungrily. His tongue danced with yours, as you let out a moan. "Shh. Don't want anyone hearing you now, darling." He chuckled like a sadist, at your impatience. His hand muffled your cries.

"Get on your knees."

"Yes sir."

He unzipped his trousers. Your mouth watered at his size. It never failed to leave you in awe. It was veiny and thick. "Well?" He sneered. "Learned your lesson yet, darling?" You shook your head. He grabbed the back of your head and forced his member down your throat. Tears formed at the corner of your eyes. Your tongue encircled his veiny length. He groaned, pulling your hair. "Always so good for me.." He groaned, smirking down at you. You continued to pleasure his aching member. "Fu-fuck I'm close." He hissed. He pulled on your hair harder as he reached his high again.

Hot ropes of his seed coated your throat. You made sure to swallow every bit of it. You slowly took your mouth off of him. "Please" Eren lifts you onto the table, kissing you. "Please what? Be specific now." You whined. "Please! Fuck me! Take me!" He put a finger on his chin, as if to think. You whined again. "Erenn.." You looked up at him, in frustration. He chuckled, slithering his hands down your waist.

"Who am I to deny you? You've been such a good girl for me." You lit up at the praise. He reached his hands under your skirt, shoving his fingers into the pool of heat between your thighs. You moaned, throwing your head back. He fingered you at a pace that made you see stars. "E-Eren!" You whimpered. Your moans were music to his ears. He took his fingers out and sucked on them. You whined at the loss of contact.

He positioned himself at your entrance. He eased you onto him slowly. You would never get used to this. "You ok?" He whispered. You nodded. After that you rode him. His pace quickened with every passing minute. You were close. "E-Eren! I'm-" He cut you off with a thrust. His member hit all the right spots, making your eyes roll back. "I'm gonna- gonna cum!" His thrusts somehow got quicker. You moaned again and again, as you released. "Always so good for me." Eren groaned. He continued to thrust , eventually releasing again. He let out a breathy moan. "S-so good.." His seed felt heavy between your hips. You rested your head on his shoulder. "This dress looks nice. You should wear it more often, you little temptress." He whispered to you, his breath tickling your ear.

A knock came from the door. "You two better be dressed." It was the boss himself. Levi.

You two were in deep shit.

#eren smut #eren yaeger smut #eren x you #i wrote this at 2am #smut #i was paid to write this #eren jaeger #aot season 4 #attack on titan

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gemini-sensei · 1 year

Text

What the Hell is Going On? Pt. Two | Hawk Moskowitz x Chubby!LaRusso!Reader

Part One ○ Fem!Shy!Reader ○ Y/N used ○ Blurb

Tagging @sensei-venus 💖 also this is partially edited bc I edited what I had written and then added more, lol. Hope you enjoy!

Hawk had been to the LaRusso home many a time now to learn how to get along with his teammates - however, whether that was working or not still needed to be seen. However, he'd never been there almost alone. He'd never seen the whole house, certainly not upstairs. He was sure he'd spent more time in the pool than he had anywhere near the staircase.

Now there he was, as far as he could go because his lucky stars aligned. Mr and Mrs. LaRusso were out for dinner with some local event planner looking for a sponsor, Anthony was spending the night at a friend's house, and Sam was having a girls night out with Moon and Yasmine. That left Y/N perfectly alone at home, just how she liked it, or at least that was how it used to be.

She and Hawk rolled around on her bedsheets, giggling and laughing with the breaths they took before diving back into kissing one another. Their hands wandered each other's bodies, exploring the undiscovered areas they had yet to traverse. His hands mapped out the curves of her hips in great detail, trailing down to her thighs only to find out her inner thighs are a little ticklish. She runs her hands up his shirt, feeling up the defined muscle he'd built up since starting karate. Her fingers dipped and swirled and splayed. It was fantastic.

She eventually brought her hands up to his hair, tracing the line it made as it reached high. Then she placed her hands on the buzzed sides and pulled his head away from her. He looked down at her with such tender admiration, a slight hint of worry that he'd made her uncomfortable somehow.

But she smiled up at him and touched his purple hair again. It was new and vibrant, exciting. "I love this."

He grinned, relieved, and happily said, "Yeah?."

"Yeah," she giggled.

Her hands slipped behind her head and cradled the back of his neck, pulling him in for another deeper kiss. They shifted in the sheets, moving into another position where he straddled her thigh. He moaned as he began to lightly rub his bulge against her thigh and she ate it up, just as he consumed her whines when she started gently grinding on his thigh in return.

They were slow and tender with each other. It didn't have to be fast or anything they weren't ready for. It just had to be the two of them and everything else would fall in later. They lived in their own little world.

A world separated from the home she lived in, where they failed to hear the front door open and close far sooner than they expected. Too involved in each other, their tongues performing a dance together, they didn't hear the footsteps coming up the stairs. Hawk, with his hands slowly pushing up Y/N's shirt and sending shivers through her, didn't hear the bedroom door open.

"Sweetheart, we're- what the hell is going on here?"

The teens pulled apart from each other, this time Hawk almost jumping away from Y/N. He rolled off of her instead, turning to look at her father at the door. They stared at each other, both wide eyed and bewildered.

Daniel LaRusso stood in the doorway of his oldest daughter's room, eyes shifting between her and the boy she'd invited over. Her shocked expression was not made innocent by the way her lips shined in the light and were swollen. She was flustered, pulling her shirt down as she sat up with Hawk of all people. Her eyes came back to him, worrisome and unprepared as she stared at her father.

Daniel turned his attention to the boy. His eyebrows scrunched up, a terrible mix of anger and confusion. He sneered as he spoke. "What are you doing in my daughter's room?"

Then he blinked and got louder.

"What are you doing in my daughter's bed?"

At that, Hawk stood up, as if the bed was a trap. He looked at his girlfriend and she looked at him, Y/N quickly becoming embarrassed and guilty and uncomfortable, so Hawk went to speak. However, no answer came out because he knew there wasn't a good enough to give her father. "Uhhh."

"What's wrong?" Amanda asked as she came to see why her husband was shouting. As she turned into the room, her mouth formed a small 'o' shape before she quickly bit her lip. "Oh... I see."

"Dad, you don't understand," Y/N began, voice already under a lot of stress. She'd never been in such a situation before. She didn't know what the right thing to do or say was, if there was any right thing to even say to begin with. "It's not what it looks like."

"Really?" Daniel scoffed sarcastically. "Please enlighten me, because what it looks like is you've invited one of your sister's teammates over for a make out party while your mother and I were out of the house."

"Okay, so it does look like what you think it is," she said looking at him, then looking at Hawk, then looking back at her father. "But it's more than that, I swear."

"What? Were you gonna have sex too?"

"Dad!"

"Daniel," Amanda spoke evenly, calling her husband down. Her tone was firm, but her eyes - as she looked at her daughter - were understanding and empathetic. "Let's hear them out before we jump to conclusions. She's never given us any reason not to trust her."

"I know, which is why I didn't expect this from her," Daniel said, turning to his wife. "Sam? Maybe. Anthony? Definitely. But Y/N, my sweet little angel?"

"Daniel, look at her," Amanda said, throwing a hand up to gesture at their daughter as she sat utterly embarrassed as her boyfriend had to witness all of this. "She's not five anymore."

Daniel didn't look at first because he knew that when he did, his wife would be right. His daughters weren't little kids anymore; they were bright young women. So when he finally looked up, he'd have to accept that. He wasn't sure if he was ready for that.

He knew he wasn't ready to learn why Hawk was the one his oldest had invited over.

"Dad," Y/N began again, garnering his attention despite his reluctance. "The truth is... Eli and I have been dating for three months."

"Three months!?"

"And I love him!"

"Are you on drugs?"

"Daniel!"

"You love me?"

Y/N turned to Hawk with wide eyes, suddenly a little terrified of his reaction to that. They'd never said those words to each other before. She'd never said those words to anyone before and now she was scared she'd said them wrong somehow.

Amanda put a hand on Daniel's back and one on his arm, ushering him out of the room. "Why don't we give them a minute?"

He shook his head, reluctant. "We can't leave them in there, Amanda. It only takes two minutes to get pregnant!"

Regardless of his protests, he let her guide him away from the room. She pulled the door almost shut, leaving it cracked in an attempt to give the teens some privacy.

Hawk stared at Y/N, too impatient. "Did you mean it?"

She stood up, nervously playing with her fingers. "Of course I did. I wouldn't... I wouldn't have said if I didn't."

Too embarrassed and unsure of herself, she looked away from him. Instead, she chose to stare at the floor, where she saw him approach. He gently grabbed her thin and lifted her head, smiling at her as their eyes met.

"I love you, too," he told her.

Then he kissed her and she smiled against his lips.

○○○

When it was time for Hawk to leave, Daniel walked him to the door and followed him out.

Hawk was a little tense when Mr. LaRusso shut the door behind him and got the sense that the earlier conversation wasn't over. He turned to the man, seeing his eyes narrowed at him, which caused him to hold his chin up. Hawk wasn't going to bow down to him just because he was his girlfriend's father.

"I'm not going to lie to you, Hawk," Daniel said, an edge in his voice as he said the boy's moniker. "I don't exactly like that you're dating my daughter."

"I know that," Hawk told him. He had a lot of respect for his co-sensei, but there was a line between sensei and father, and at the moment Hawk knew he was pushing his luck. Sometimes it was fun kicking a hornets nest. "What are you gonna do about it?"

"Nothing, for now. Y/N seems to really like you," - that was an understatement after her earlier confession, but he digressed- "So I'm not going to do or say anything. However, if you hurt my little girl, know that you're going to regret it."

Hawk scoffed and smirked with his usually level of confidence. "Like that'll ever happen."

Daniel watched the teen step away from the door, walking to his car that was parked in the street with a self-assured stride. His eyes were glaring at his back, but as his words set in, they eased and he sighed. He put his hands to his face, letting out an exasperated sigh.

"It had to be that one..."

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iwahajii · 2 years

Text

• favorite place

A fluff (and a really tiny bit of angst if you squint) about Ushijima's favorite place

It wasn't until he met you that Ushijima found his favorite place. For him, it finally meant home.

Growing up, home meant switching houses between the residences of his father and mother. As he got older, home meant the apartment he was staying in for six years now and despite the length of time he spent here, the space remains bare and lifeless, looking as it was the day he signed the lease except for the quaint garden he had on his balcony.

When he met you, something in his world just clicked as though he was an unfinished puzzle who finally found his missing piece. It wasn't a lie, though. He found what was missing in his life after all, a home.

But it still wasn't the home as defined in the dictionary.

For him, home meant you, and to be perfectly precise, home meant the crook of your neck.

The first time he hugged you was one of the best moments of his life. It was warm, gentle and he just felt so so much he hid his face on the crook of your neck. He couldn't believe how addicting it was, feeling so close to you like that with your scent wrapped around him, your skin soft and cold (because Ushijima's always warm). Later on, he would learn that placing his head on the crook of your neck in different times and on different moods meant getting what he needs (or wants), but it'll always be his favorite.

When he's tired from practice and games, he would rest his head on the crook of your neck, breathe in your scent and like some magic spell, his fatigue gets blown away.

When he's restless and cannot sleep, he would find his favorite place to be in his most comfortable place, whisper his thoughts and insecurities on your skin so they can fly away into the night. It's just a bonus for him if you're running your fingers through his hair and when you're assuring him with words that he's the strongest person you know and that he's the best (he knows this is far from the truth but he'll do all he can to be the best).

When he's overjoyed with winning and so much happiness fills him up, he would quickly run to you, lift you up in his arms and in the crook of your neck, he'll sing his praises and thanks all while placing kisses all over you. Your laughter, as always, sounds like music to his ears and it would take time before he'd come down from his high, but it's all worth it because what matters is he's sharing it with you.

Finally, Ushijima also learned that when he is in his favorite place and he bites you there, without fail, shivers would run down your arms. His most favorite part though, is eliciting a small gasp from you which is barely audible unless he's this close to you. He can feel your body become warmer then, fuelling the fire in the pit of his stomach. He'll start there, followed by kisses and then he'll move along, step by step, until he binds the two of you together, because only you can quell this hunger and thirst he feels. (He never realized he's doing this though, not until you teased him about it, telling him that a bite on your neck meant sexy time. He looked offended because he doesn't and it's not, but when he did it again and you pointed it out, he was too far gone to do something about it).

And so, to whoever asks about his favorite place or his home, he'd answer, with a straight face and in a heartbeat, that it's you. Because this man, despite how sappy and romantic the words that came out of his mouth were, wouldn't understand why the girls are swooning and crying, or why the boys are gagging and teasing him. The only thing that matters to him is to see you smile and to read your lips that says "I love you".

#haikyuu x reader #haikyuu!!#haikyuu headcanons #haikyuu fic #ushijima x reader #haikyuu #ushijima fluff #ushijima wakatoshi

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meowzfordayz · 1 year

Note

Compleeeetely almost missed this event!! I'll get my angst refill please and thank you. Gimme prompt n.11 with my man, you already know who! You can pick if sfw or nsfw >:) thanks T 💜💜💜

MILESTONE 5.0

V! 🤍 Thank you for choosing T's to refuel — we appreciate your customer loyalty! ⛽️😉😂

Is it weird that I’m drunk and on my sofa? Is it weird that I’m naked on my sofa? All alone, damn, I wish I didn’t know ya. — Kill My Time

CW: alcohol, explicit language

Sanemi believes it’s a blessing in disguise that you blocked him shortly after breaking his heart. If you hadn’t, then you’d be receiving every single one of his calls—he’s nearing ten—while he lounges naked on his couch, beer cans stacked precariously on the floor beside him. Maybe he’s trying to convince himself that They’re just busy, or maybe he’s in denial about missing the sound of your voice—your voicemail message isn’t enough anymore—or maybe he’s finally feeling sorry, but Damn it, pick up your fucking phone. And then he remembers Oh. Yeah. They blocked you… dumbass promptly downing the remainder of his eighth beer.

From the moment he saw you, he’d known that someone would leave empty chested, the other walking away with a still dripping heart staining their sleeve, because he’d stumbled over himself to say Hi, I’m Sanemi.

“Hi Sanemi, nice to meet you,” you stick out your hand, slightly warm and very soft, “Do you come here often?”

“No,” he eyes your hand suspiciously, grimacing when he realizes how sweaty his own palm is, “First time.”

In hindsight, that clammy first touch should’ve been a warning sign.

“First time in a bookstore,” you deadpan, lips pursing, “Do you prefer the library?”

Gulping, he squeezes your fingers, hoping you’re fixated on his pretty purple eyes or his wintery white hair or anything other than his pulse trembling through his fingertips.

You smirk, squeezing back, “First time shaking someone’s hand too?”

“I don’t want to let go,” he admits, reeling inwardly The fuck is this? A fucking meet-cute?!

“So don’t.”

Your flirtatious quip haunts him, especially as he opens his ninth beer. Pressing its cool metal base to his bare stomach, he tilts his head backward, stupored sigh swallowed by the living room. If only they were here to sigh with me. That’s what he misses most. Not your beautiful smile, the silence of your focus, or the tang of your wit, but the familiarity of how easily and perfectly you annoyed him. If he sighed, then you’d sigh louder, and if he sighed even louder, then soon you’d be locked in a sighing competition, one sigh away from falling into laughter — from falling back in love.

“So what are we?” he asks carefully, watching your brow for signs of unease.

It furrows faintly, his gut coiling as he realizes: I can’t tell if they’re happy or mad.

“We’re together,” you answer simply, expression relaxing as you peck his cheek, “What did you think we were?”

I don’t know he almost says, waiting for a gush of elation, peace, specialness to register, “Dating?”

“Do you want to define our relationship?” you tease fondly, his face turning pink at your directness, “Because we can do that.”

“I’m yours,” he declares, quiet and decisive.

“Mine?” you wink, stealing a sweet, lingering kiss, murmuring lowly, “I like the sound of that.”

In hindsight, he should’ve listened better, swept up in giving himself to you — for nothing in return.

“And I like you,” he whispers.

“Mm, I like you too.”

You hadn’t lied to him. Not exactly. You’d obscured the ultimate truth for something more convenient. For something shiny and tender, masking a loneliness that he’d eventually learn he could never fill.

“I should go to sleep,” he mutters abruptly, chugging his beer with stubborn reluctance, burping wetly afterwards Tengen would be proud of me proceeding to knock over his aluminum tower Eh, I guess not.

Skin prickling, he crosses and uncrosses his ankles, sunlight shifting past noon, long shadows receding from his collarbones, brightness mixing achingly with the alcohol in his vision. Scowling at the blanket strewn across an armchair, too far from his reach, he settles for resting a forearm over his eyes And you should be here with me.

#milestone event #5.0 #sanemi shinazugawa #shinazugawa sanemi #sanemi x reader #shinazugawa x reader #wind hashira #drabble #modern au #kimetsu no yaiba #demon slayer

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gourdkeeper · 10 months

Text

Follow up to Drunken Brawlin'; this time reader is AFAB, can make other versions based on request

Word count: 2590

Warnings: 18+, oral sex, submissive Jamie, switching at the end

Disclaimer: not proofread, the thirst for Jamie guided me

Read below the cut

Tomorrow rooftops. Tomorrow rooftops. Tomorrow rooftops.

It keeps playing in your mind until you finally manage to drift off to sleep.

You can't shake your mind off of him and what you've done. You've never been that bold before with anyone and especially not in such a public place. Your stomach is stirring up a fight. Stress mixed with excitement. What even got into you?

You've been meeting amazing fighters left and right as of late and yet, the small fry with the inflated ego in Chinatown catches your eye out of all people... You almost hate that you're so captivated by him. That stupid little waist and defined pectorals... The unnecessarily long hair that clinged onto his forehead every time he worked up a sweat. His fake bravado and sly smirk. Ugh.

---

The moment you wake up, you grab your phone. It still had his message on the screen.

Today rooftops.

You just know today's about to be the longest day you've ever had in your life, counting down every minute until the sun sets at last.

---

As expected, nothing else has been in your mind. The whole day you couldn't focus. Luke couldn't get you to hit the punching bag decently no matter what back at the academy. Li-Fen could not get a hold of you to have you chase after some other weird promotion.

Rest of the day was spent in your little hideout staring at yourself in the bathroom mirror wondering if you looked good and preparing mentally for what to even say. How will you face him?

Hell. How will he face you? What if he doesn't even show up, maybe the nerves are getting the best of him too.

---

The night fell and you've rushed out of your sample of a claustrophobic apartment.

Your heart is pounding at your throat and you gulp down hard as you arrive in the dreaded Chinatown. Here you are.

Once more the stupid cardboard head douche nozzles are here to pester you and you just wipe the floor with them. When will they ever learn?

Up the ladder you go. You can feel your palms getting sweaty. "Calm down" you repeat to yourself like a mantra.

You've finally made it to the top.

Your heart sinks. He isn't here. What if he ghosted you. No. He must be late. He wouldn't just do that right?

You hear whistling from behind you and you turn your head around instantly. There he is. Perched on a light sign across the street. Nimbly he jumps over, rolling perfectly and stopping right in front of you. "What is he, half cat?" You think to yourself.

"I was worried you wouldn't show up." You say, cupping his cheek in your hand.

"No, *I* was worried you wouldn't show up. Have been watching over the street for over 30 minutes now." He tells you with the same smuggy smirk on his lips as always.

You're scratching the back of your head now, apologizing for not having been there sooner and he stops you as there's no reason to apologize. "I was just too eager to see you."

He holds you by your hands and looks into your eyes.

"Listen... What happened yesterday? I never did that before. I'm sorry if I made you do anything you didn't want to. I got you drunk and then that happened. I'm sorry." For once he doesn't look arrogant or full of shit. He's being honest.

"No no no, I didn't do anything I didn't want to, trust me Jamie..." You smile to reassure him that nothing bad happened. "In fact I wanted to make sure you were okay too, I kept worrying I went too far."

He starts giggling at the situation.

You're perplexed.

"W-why are you laughing?" Blowing air through your nostrils yourself.

"We're both apologizing for no reason. Yesterday was good." Now his turn to cup your cheek in his hand. "Great even. Perfect. The best night of my life. And yet here we are excusing ourselves for possibly hurting the other."

You giggle as well. "You're right. It was the best night..."

"Hey uh," he begins, "have you had dinner yet?"

You shake your head. Food hasn't even crossed your mind in the last couple of hours.

"Let's get going, I was thinking we could eat something together and then maybe... If you're okay with it we could come over to my place?“

You raise your eyebrow at that last suggestion.

"What? I even cleaned up, just for you!"

You lightly punch his chest in jest. "Sure, I'm down."

---

You both grabbed some takeaway from the nearby noodle bar and walked over to his apartment.

"Ladies first!" You gesture him towards his own door and he does a little bow and holds his hands out as if holding a skirt before breaking into a laughing fit. Guess this guy doesn't need to drink to be a goofball with you.

"Thank you for coming with me" he chimes, now inside, gesturing you to come sit at the couch with him so you can eat in peace.

"Thank you for inviting *me*! Then again I was gonna invite you over to my place if you didn't do it first. Maybe better this way, my crib is uh cramped."

"More the excuses to be up against you..."

"Tsk..."

He turns on the TV for some background noise as we eat and share silly tidbits about ourselves. He tells me about his cousins that have given him an ass whooping on more than one occasion for getting into stupid brawls as a kid and how they'd take him to the skatepark on weekends.

You tell him about how you're only in Metro City for a bit over a week and the first person you've met was Luke who was teaching you how to fight at first.

"Luke-?“

"Hm? You turn to him and he looks like he just choked up on his noodles and is fuming.

"Luke dipshit-asswipe Sullivan? That guy?"

"Y-yeah that is his last name! Not sure about the dipshit or asswiping part though-"

He cuts you off. "Listen that guy's a piece of crap, thinks he's the best and just goes around bumping into others and provoking them into fights. Do not give him the light of the day, he is not worth your time, you're too good to grace him with your company, absolute fucki-“

"Are you jealous?“

He turns red.

"N-no, why would I be jealous of that waste of space?"

"It sounds like you're jealous..."

"Maybe a little bit." He pouts. "Just not a fan that the first person you've met here from all the people had to be him, the guy I've been butting heads with for years... It should have been me instead..."

"Well," you start, "to be fair you have been the first and only person I've gotten intimate with around here" he raises his brow, "...and I'd like to keep it that way."

"Are you trying to tell me something?" He inquires.

"I am, I am trying to tell you, Jamie Siu, that I want to be with you..." You finish the sentence poking a finger over his chest and pushing him lower into the couch so that you're laying on top of him.

"Hmm... That so?“ A sly smile spreading on his face.

"Are you finished eating?" He asks, to which you nod, "How about some dessert?“ His tone sinful, "I know *I* want some..."

"Yeah? What are you gonna do? Eat me up?"

"Mhm might as well.." He jokingly bares his teeth at you.

"I want to pay you back for what you've done to me..." His hands trailing down your body, "Will you let me?“

You take notice of how he always asks for permission and you decide to play with it, seen as it riled him so gravely last time.

"Hmm, I think you need to show me how much you want it first!“ You play difficult.

"Oh, are we doing this then?“ His eyebrow raised, licking his lips and starting to get antsy. He's certainly not shy or embarrassed over getting vocal. "Please... Will you let me please you? Been craving you all day..." He holds onto you tight and tries to pull you up to his face.

You oblige, and start kissing him, breathing heavily into each other, arms tangled together, your right hand reaching into the back of his neck to still him in place and your left creeping up his chest under his clothes, groping his defined breast eliciting a moan from him.

"P-please..." He whines as you pull back from the kiss to take a breather.

"Hmm I don't know, I don't think I'm quite convinced just yet." With a mischievous glint in your eye you start pinching his nipple, making him twitch under you.

"H-how" his breath shallow, "can I show you?"

He's blushed so red even without having drank anything... That, that does give you *quite* the idea.

"Please...let me show you how badly I need you. N-need to taste you." He's groping your ass roughly as he grows more desperate for you.

"Do you want me that badly?"

Jamie nods furiously.

"Do you...want to be my *good boy*?" Giving him a borderline sadistic smile, recalling how he reacted the first time you've called him that.

Somehow he blushes to an even darker red and parts his lips. "Y-yes..."

"This time we're inside... Which means... You," left hand reaching for his braid and pulling, tugging his head backwards making him whine in pleasure disguised by pain, "...Can be as loud as you want... No one will be able to hear you moan out my name and scream... Isn't that so?"

You see his adam's apple bob up and down as he gulps, neck outstretched as you keep the tension on his hair.

"I- I guess so..." He says sheepishly, part nervousness part arousal. Most of it definitely arousal.

"So what will you be?"

"A good boy..."

"What was that?" Pulling harder.

"Y- your good boy!"

"That's right..." Letting up now.

His lids are heavy and he can't stop himself from subconsciously lift his hips and try to provide himself some friction from rubbing and grinding on you.

"So..." You start, "if I were you... I'd get rid of those clothes, unless you want them to be a mess."

He's licking his lips in anticipation, "Yes..."

You raise your eyebrow at him and it's like he's finally back to earth, you can only wonder what fantasy was playing out in his head.

He immediately sits up and removes his top and asks you to lift yourself a bit so he can remove his pants as well.

"Why am I the only one undressing here?“ He asks, blushing at the thought of being the only one vulnerable.

"Because I want *you* to undress me..."

"Oh." A smile spreading on his lips, he can't wait to unwrap that present.

Now naked he put his hands on the fly of your lace up pants.

You slap it away.

"Be a good boy and use your pretty mouth~" You goad him.

He's quick to obey and puts his hands beside him for support and reaches forward with his mouth, wishing the pants weren't there to stop him from devouring you.

He clearly struggles with it at the start but gets the hang of it, holding onto one lace with his teeth and pulling back on it.

He mouths at the waist band now and tries his best to pull it down. You shift your body to help him out and as he pulls down his mouth gapes.

"N-no underwear??!"

You giggle at his shock, he almost sounds innocent.

"Just for you..."

Deciding to cut his work short you remove your pants off fully. Now straddling his body, with your bare crotch.

"God- I want you so bad..." He whines.

"You want a drink?"

You reach for his gourd that he settled on the little coffee table next to you and put it up to his lips.

"Go on, you deserved it."

"I'd like to drink something else..." He plays.

"Is that so? Get on the floor." You lift yourself up and give him a hand and quickly he's laying down with you standing over him with a smile.

"What do you want to drink? Hm?"

"You. I want you on my mouth please..."

Your next move is a very bold one, he's stupefied with your actions as you lower yourself down and push the gourd's neck past your lips and tilt it back, pouring the contents inside of you.

Moans escape your mouth as he watches with bated breath, astonished. Not believing how sinful you're acting, his cock straining and twitching already in his boxer shorts. Stain of precome appearing more visible by the second.

You withdraw the gourd and squeeze tight, trying to contain his herbal tea inside, some of it inevitably spilling.

"You still want a drink?"

He's incredulous, blinking up at you, shaken before he snaps, "Yes! Yes please!"

His hands rush to your backside as he tries to pull you to him in a feral animalistic need.

You take a hold of his hair one more and don't hesitate to shove your sex on his face.

He shows no hesitation either as he laps at your lips, drinking you in, kissing your clit, mouthing at your folds, moaning and breathing heavily without any constraint.

"Oh my god- Jamie... God..!" You have difficulty even asserting dominance over him with the way he's eating you out like a starved and dehydrated man who's spotted an oasis in the desert. "You're so good Jamie!" You praise, barely holding on.

Your praise getting to him, pushing him to drive you over the edge, going faster, harder. Looking up at you from that angle with fucked out eyes and his hair a mess. Juices flowing all over his face, your bodily fluids unintelligible from his tea.

"Make me come Jamie, be my good boy! Come on." You palm at his cock as you spur him on. Grinding on his vicious tongue.

He gets louder, whining with need beneath you, you can hear him hum your name in-between laps, he wants you to come and he wants it now.

It's enough to push you over the edge, trembling, strenght escaping your legs and he's quick to hold on to you, keeping you in your place, mouth still glued to you, determined to drain you dry and suck your soul from your limp body.

You both finally fall back in exhaustion, rolling over, breathlessly exchanging looks and biting your lip.

"You..." He tries to regain his breath, "...you're crazy!" Trying to laugh but wheezing only instead.

You giggle at him, "What? As if you didn't like it?"

"Me? Pfft, no, I hated every second of it-" you punch his arm in jest and he looks up at you in adoration. "I loved it. I never even thought of anyone doing that..."

"Well, I'm never taking a swig without thinking of this now so if I start losing during fights it's all your fault."

You're so smitten by him, you can't even think of a comeback, you just hold onto his face and kiss him. "You taste good." You joke.

"I know!" He quips. "You know what else I know?"

"Hm?" Clueless.

"That," he pounces over you with newfound energy, likely from the drink, "it's time for payback." Getting handsy again as he takes the lead, kissing you.

#jamie siu #jamie siu x reader #jamie siu fic #street fighter 6 #jamie street fighter #street fighter #gourdkeeper

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nirikeehan · 10 months

Note

happy friday niri!!! for DADWC perhaps "And the veil tears and rages till her voices are remembered and his secrets can be told." from the tori amos lyrics for Cullen/Thalia?

Hi Jay, Happy Friday! I really leaned on the Vibes™ for this one.

Here is some post-Trespasser marital angst for my babies.

For @dadrunkwriting

WC: 1113

CW: Some internalized ableism on Thalia's part

---

After the worst of it, he sits her down at the kitchen table and makes her tea. She stares at the varnished surface with the sort of desolation that comes when the sobs have run their course. She feels like a thin layer of ice, ready to crack.

In her periphery she sees the jagged edges of her hair. They are blood red. They ought to be dripping. Cullen’s back is to her, the muscles of his shoulder blades defined through his thin shirt. The sunlight falls on him slanted, a cheery yellow, in this house that they have the audacity to call their own.

“Does it look terrible?” Thalia’s voice is hoarse.

“You could never look terrible,” Cullen says softly. Which isn’t what she asked. He hasn’t turned to face her.

Thalia tugs fingers through the shorn hair at the back of her neck. She feels impossibly light and exposed. She might as well be naked. She shivers, wraps her one good arm around her torso, and hunches over. He’s standing at the counter, watching the water boil in the cook pot. His hand clutches the scissors he took from her. His knuckles shake.

Thalia swallows hard. “I’m sorry. I don’t know what came over me.” She feels guilty, all of a sudden. Ashamed she’s put this burden on him, of all people, when he has so many of his own.

“It’s all right.” Cullen sounds genuine, but tired. “You scared me, that’s all. I thought…” He trails off.

You thought I’d cut more than hair. Thalia sniffles. She wipes at one eye, then the other. Her phantom arm feels useless at her side. “I was just… frustrated.”

So much hair, so thick and so long. Barely manageable with two working hands. Impossible with one.

Cullen turns, a teacup in each hand. How she envies him that. He places one before her. The tea leaves steeping smell of chamomile and lavender, a blend his sister gave them as part of a housewarming gift. Thalia focuses on the steam rising and not the worry lines at his forehead that have only deepened since they moved in.

He sits across the table. His eyes are on her, warm brown in the afternoon light, but she can’t meet them. She glances to the counter; the scissors have vanished. He must have pocketed them, she realizes. He wants them well out of her reach.

Like I’m a danger. Her heart pounds in her ears.

“I told you,” Cullen says, still so softly. “I would have taken care of your hair, if you’d wanted.”

“It isn’t about that, Cullen,” Thalia snaps, too sharp. He flinches as if slapped. Now she feels worse.

“Then what is it about? Explain it to me.” Not even with an air of hurt. Infinite patience, he has. She’s learned this since marrying him. She’s been a nightmare to deal with, Thalia knows, and yet he’s taken it entirely in stride. Well, mostly. He’s treating her so delicately. Part of her wishes he would get rattled, needle her back. Do something. “I’m listening. I want to assist.”

Thalia chews her lip. It’s almost too rote, too practiced. She eyes him, tilting her head, trying to see past the bedhead that overtakes his hair most days, now that there’s no troops who need to see him perfectly groomed. He’s even grown a bit of a beard, mostly out of laziness. He claims he had a goatee in the past, but that’s impossible for her to picture. She tries to see him in an office, not at Skyhold but before that, in a city she’s never visited. It’s difficult. Everything she imagines about the Gallows looks like the Circle Tower in Ostwick, just more tropical.

“Is this what you used to do with distraught mages back in Kirkwall?” Thalia asks. “Make them tea?”

The question surprises him. He hesitates, lets out a nervous laugh. “Sometimes.”

The admission feels like progress, somehow. He’s good at this. Good at dealing with hysterics from people like her.

“Did it help?” Thalia pulls out the strainer, leaves it dripping on the table. Picks up the teacup carefully to take a sip. See? I’m trying too.

“It depended. Too often I would listen and be unable to offer any solution to their problems.” Cullen raises his own cup, both sets of fingers grasping the rim. Jealousy blooms inside her once more, alongside as the desire to kiss each one. He sighs. “It was… taxing, when that happened.”

“Is it taxing now?” Thalia asks quietly. “To have one for a wife?”

“No.” He returns the cup to its saucer with a clang. “Do you truly think me so fickle?”

“I don’t know.” Tears blur Thalia’s vision. The tea is too hot, bitter as she swallows. “You didn’t sign up for this when you married me, Cullen. I wouldn’t blame you if you… couldn’t…” Couldn’t love a cripple are the words on her tongue, burning worse than the tea, but she can’t bring herself to say them.

“Hey.” He’s standing, circling the table now, kneeling beside her to envelope her in a hug. He kisses her temple. “Of course I ‘signed up’ for this, whatever that means.”

Part of her wants to pull away, but she won’t allow herself. He must not see how broken she is. She’s deceiving him, somehow. She buries her face in the hollow of his neck, cheek scratched by stuffy facial hair. She inhales the scent of him and tries not to cry. “Are you sure?”

“Of that, more than anything.”

Thalia can feel the hum of his voice in his throat. She wants to believe him. She’s not sure she does, but there’s relief in hearing the words all the same. He doesn’t think she’s irreparably damaged. Hiding the scissors is just a precaution. Probably.

She pulls back, leveling her gaze at him. “Tell me the truth. Does it look awful?”

Cullen’s eyes stray from her face to her hair. His eyebrows raise, and he suppresses an anxious smirk that tugs at the corner of his mouth. “I think Mia knows of a barber in town who can even it out a bit. Unless you’d like to pioneer a new look, like Sera…”

“Ugh.” Thalia pulls a face. “No thank you.”

They both laugh, a little uneasily. Cullen combs his fingers through her spiky locks. “It will be all right, with a little work. I promise you.”

She puts her good hand against his chest and curls it around the lacing of his shirt. The pain is still there, lurking beneath her ribcage, but she feels a pang of love for him that briefly outshines it.

#thalia trevelyan #cullen rutherford #cullen x trevelyan #post-trespasser #fics #dragon age drunk writing circle #i imagine they have a lot of issues to smooth out in that marriage ok 🤷‍♀️

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