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tootiecakes234 · 3 months

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Warning: NSFW

Character aged up

You ask Katsuki if you can paint his PP🤭:

“No! Get the hell away from me!” And he starts walking away from you.

“But Katsuki! I’d make it so pretty. I already have a vision in mind. I want to paint it into a microphone! Maybe sing a song into it.” You say following behind him, positive you aren’t helping your situation.

“Y/N if you don’t get away from me right now, we are breaking up. I’m packing my shit and leaving and you’ll never see me ever again! I meant it.” And he plops down on the couch with an exaggerated groan. “You’ve lost your entire fucking mind, smooth brain.”

You know you’re gonna have to grovel for this one. You try to slide yourself onto his lap, but he pushes you off and you bounce a little on the couch cushions.

“No, you’re not kissing and snuggling your way into this. I’m not letting you practice your goddamn painting skills on my dick. Where do you even come up with this shit?” He says now looking at you with wide, concerned eyes.

“Well I was scrolling on TikTok-“

“And there it goes. I’m not even surprised.”

You lean over and run your hands over the his wide chest and buff arms.

“‘Suki when you think about, a microphone is only two colors. Black and grey. It would only take me like 5 minutes.” And then you start pressing kisses to his neck. “Pretty please. I’ll even hop in the shower with you after and help you clean up.” There’s a sultry lilt to your voice. This is something you pull out all the weapons in your arsenal for.

“Y/N i go along with a lot of your dumbass ideas, but I’m drawing the line. No paint on my d-dick. Fuck, cut it out.” You had slipped your hands down his stomach and right under the shorts he had on.

“But it’ll be easier to paint if its hard Kat, don’t ya think?” You whisper up against his ear. You run your thumb over the top and smear the precum over his slit.

“Ugghhh. I hate you, you know that.” He groans really low.

“Mmmmhhh. Pretty please,” you say and stroke down to the base of his cock and then back up. “With a cherry on top.”

“You have 10 f-fucking minutes! And that paint better be safe for skin or I swear to god!” He shouts at you.

You’re up and off the couch before he can even finish that sentence and within a minute you’re back with the paint you already had prepared and brushes.

You get down on your knees, in between his legs, and place your supplies on the ground next you. For him to be so against it, he’s already pulled off his shirt and underwear. He’s accepted his fate.

“Okay, if any of the brushes are uncomfortable or the paints don’t feel good, let me know k?” You say looking up at him.

This man has his arms crossed over his chest and he’s glaring daggers into you.

“What the hell ever woman. Hurry up, your time’s tickin.”

So you pick up a big fluffy brush and dip it into the black paint before you start working on the base of his dick.

As soon as the brush touches against his skin Katsuki screams bloody murder. Its scared the hell out of you and you’re surprised at yourself that you don’t drop the damn brush and get paint everywhere.

When you look up at him to ask him what’s wrong the bastard has a smirk on his goddamn face his shoulder are shaking because he’s holding in his laughter.

“You should’ve seen yourself. Your entire body took a screenshot. I thought you might go into shock.” Now he’s outwardly laughing loud as fuck.

He thinks he’s such a comedian. Well too bad for him because we’re a freakin party clown.

While he’s still laughing you bend down and take the head of his cock in your mouth and swirl your tongue all over it.

His laugh is cut short and you look up to see him squeezing his eyes shut. You pull your head back up and give him a sweet smile.

“So now, how about you cut out the jokes and let me focus on my masterpiece.” And you hear him grumble back some kind of rude response but you take that as an understanding.

You breathe and try to gain your composure before you start back on the task in front of you. You again start at the base of his cock and then do long stokes upwards until you get right below the shroomed tip.

You’re about halfway through when you notice his cock twitching and leaking pre all over.

Oh my gosh he likes this. Or it at least feels good because damn. When you look up at him there’s a blush covering his face and his lips are tight like he’s trying to hold in sounds that might escape. His eyes though are trained on the brush in your hand as you work.

You were about to speak when he cut you off, “Don’t. Just hurry up and finish”

“Yes sir” you say slyly as your start working on the other side.

“Ok. Base is done. Now the tip, I know how sensitive you are so I’ll try to be gentle.” And now you’re the one with a smirk on your face. “Look I can’t paint correctly if there’s precum constantly leaking up here.”

“The fuck do you want me to do. I’m not making it leak out on purpose.” He rolls his eyes at, throws his head back and uses his arm to cover his face. Hes not quick enough to cover the blush that’s dusting his cheeks.

It’s so funny that he still get embarrassed in front of you. You take your thumb and lightly run it over the top to pick up as much pre as possible then you pop it in your mouth. Then you get to work.

You dab lightly around it and make sure to avoid the opening. You hear Katsuki’s breath become more ragged.

“Ok, I’m all done. Take a look.” He removes his arms and leans his head back up. You see that his eyes are blown but you try to ignore it for now. “Do you see the vision?”

“This is so dumb.” Is the only answer you get from him.

Next thing you know you’ve wrapped your hand around it and you start singing. “ANNNNDDDDD IIIIIIIII—eeeee-IIIIII will always love Y-“

You’re cut off because he’s gotten up grabbing you with him and now you’re thrown over his shoulder.

“I’m done with this. Not about to watch you sing Karaoke into my penis. You promised me a shower.”he says as he starts striding toward the bathroom.

“But I wasn’t done! I wanted to take pictures and maybe rap a verse or two. Kats wait dammit.”

“No. I was nice. I let you play and have your fun. Now it’s my turn to play around and have some fun.” You can hear the smug grin on his face.

You take this opportunity and slap his naked ass hard asf. You were right outside the bathroom door and the jerk sets you on your feet so quickly you feel like you’re gonna fall.

“You’re gonna pay for that brat.”

And oh do you pay for it.😭

Katsuki Masterlist

Tags: @dreamcastgirl99 @i-literally-cant-with-this @xxvendettaxx @justbepeace @moonpieshawdy @theloveofnagiseishiroslife

*I have a tag list. Let me know if you wanna be added💕🤗

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suashii · 10 months

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୨♡୧ HOMECOMING — gojo satoru x reader. sfw. domestic fluff.

gojo’s side of the bed is empty when you wake up—just like it had been last night.

a yawn keeps you from frowning but your eyebrows knit together in either mild annoyance or worry, maybe a mix of both. you had stayed up the previous night expecting to at least hear the door open because satoru had promised he would be home and you always put your faith in his word. though, as your eyelids began to droop with drowsiness, you knew you wouldn’t be awake to welcome him back.

you expected to wake with him beside you, fluffy white hair hiding his cerulean gaze. his absence, while bothersome, makes a sense of unease sprout in your chest. satoru isn’t one to stray from his plans—not when it comes to you. if he still isn’t home even after the sun has risen, its rays threatening to peek through your curtains, then something held him up. as much as you try to ignore the details of his work, you’re well aware of the dangers gojo faces when he’s away.

any lingering frustration you feel withers away at the thought that something bad must have happened. you aren’t sure how much you can do having just woken up but you toss the comforter to the side and jump out of bed, sliding into your slippers. you reach for your phone in hopes of getting in contact with someone; gojo, shoko, anyone who might be in the know. you’re scrolling for his contact when you hear a commotion from the kitchen—a swear and the sound of a pan falling.

the noise would have alarmed you if you didn’t recognize the voice—it’s satoru. breathing out a sigh of alleviation, the tension melts from your shoulders as you toss your phone on the bed and make your way down the hall. when you reach the kitchen, you’re met with the sight of him, one hand on his hip and the other pushing snowy hair away from his forehead. if you had to guess, the cause of his distress is likely the half-cooked pancake splattered on the stovetop. it’s impossible for you to muffle the laugh that bubbles up from your throat.

the sound catches gojo’s attention and his head whips in your direction. much to your relief, he’s made it back to you safe and unscathed. it’s almost enough for you to disregard the mess he’s made upon his return. almost. you grin, jerking your head towards the batter spotting the stove. “making breakfast?”

sensing your jovial mood, gojo mirrors your smile as he approaches you, setting his hands on your waist. “something like that.”

he dips his head down to press a feather-light kiss to your hairline before tipping your chin up to give you a deeper one on your lips. he tastes of coffee sweetened by sugar and creamer, the syrupy flavor remaining even after he pulls away. his right hand comes up to caress the side of your face, thumb brushing your cheekbone, and you lean into the warm, comforting touch.

“sorry i didn’t make it home last night. the higher-ups held me longer than i expected.” you can feel the authenticity of his former statement and the irritation of his latter. your head is nodding in understanding before you know it. gojo continues, “breakfast in bed was supposed to accompany my apology but…”

“you’re a terrible cook?” you finish his sentence, glancing at the mess he managed to make before meeting his eye once more.

“hey.” he pouts, poking his lip out in a show of petulance. his theatrics make you breathe out a short laugh. “one mistake is not a reflection of my cooking skills.”

that much would be true if it were anyone other than gojo. you’re aware of his track record in the kitchen and it’s composed of many incidents similar to this one. though, you think you’ll cut him some slack this time around because his intentions were so pure.

you wrap your arms around his midsection and give him a squeeze, hugging him like you wish you could have last night. satoru cradles the back of your head, smoothing a hand over your hair in soothing strokes. you rest your chin on his chest, right over his heart, and look up at him through your eyelashes. “bad cooking aside,” he frowns at that but stays quiet, which makes you smile, “i appreciate the gesture. so, thank you.”

everything about your expression from the soft smile gracing your lips to the sparkle in your still-sleepy eyes tells gojo that you really are grateful for his botched attempt at an apology. though, as far as he’s concerned, you deserve more than an inedible, half-cooked pancake and a spoken “sorry.” he’s more than equipt to give you that. placing another quick kiss on your forehead, satoru pats your butt with his next words. “get dressed.”

“sorry?” your eyebrows raise in question and partial surprise at the unexpected love tap.

“i might not be very good at making breakfast but i can certainly buy it.” he swallows his pride for your sake, suggesting a new idea that’s still related to his initial plan. “go put on something nice and i’ll take you to that cafe you like.”

you grin at gojo’s proposal and his determination to make up for not keeping his promise. while you would have settled for his simple apology and mere presence, you’re finding it difficult to turn the offer down. “okay. but you have to clean this,” you gesture to the mess behind him, “up, please.”

he nods. “for you, anything.”

thanks for reading! consider commenting or reblogging if you enjoyed ❤︎

#₊˚ପ⊹ signed: jujutsu kaisen #gojo satoru x reader #gojo x reader #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #gojo x you #jjk x you #gojo fluff #jjk fluff #gojo drabbles #jjk drabbles #gojo imagine #jjk imagines #gojo scenario #jjk scenarios

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uglyducklingofthe2000s · 7 months

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Waste The Day - LN

Summary: Lando travels a lot but his girlfriend knows how to help him just enjoy his days off.

Getting back from the most recent race weekend to his apartment being dead of life. A soft scent of food from a few hours ago lingering from his girlfriend who ate alone and sent him a picture of her meal, having made some chicken fajitas. But she’s long since gone to bed thanks to the annoying time his flight landed after being delayed.

Showering off the flight and changing into something for bed, he smiles seeing his girlfriend sleeping peacefully, hugging the body pillow that she uses when he’s not there to cuddle.

He slightly eases the pillow from her arms, making her stir from her sleep.

“Shhh…shh…go back to sleep.” Lando whispers making her whine some mumble of words while he slides into the position of the pillow while she again mumbles something incoherent.

The feeling of her head resting on his chest settles in a way he didn’t know it needed to. But he feels himself settle down and begin to feel the weight of sleep pressing down on him.

He drifts off not long later with her having shifted to throw a leg over him and hug him more tightly. Y/n might not be awake but he can tell that she knows it’s him there with her rather than the pillow.

Lips brushing the shell of his hear and a gentle breath pulls him slightly from the depth of sleep but then…

“Babe…”

There’s a lazy excitement in her voice, clearly the tiredness of waking up but excitement of seeing him back home making up the combination.

Lando’s hands move up her thighs, gripping at the skin as he shifts to grind up against her as she straddles him.

“Oh good morning.” Y/n smiles before she leans forward pouting a little, and maybe teasing him with the new position. “You should’ve woke me up when you got home.”

“You looked too peaceful and I was tired anyway. I just wanted to cuddle and sleep with you here.” Lando states before manoeuvring so he can catch her in a kiss. “I’m keeping you in bed for a while too.”

“Yeah?” She smiles before he rolls them so she’s under him. “Control freak.”

“You’ve never complained before.” Lando shrugs kissing down her body as he pushes the t-shirt up to expose her skin. “God I miss getting to have you in the morning then I’m gone.”

Y/n really does try to reply, but her voice catches in her throat when his head disappears down between her thighs making her shudder through a ripple of pleasure. She’s really not a morning person, but the promise of morning sex with Lando really perks her up enough for her be happy to be awake.

It took till mid-afternoon for them to finally roll out of bed.

“What were you doing while I was gone?” Lando asks since he did talk to her while he was gone but she didn’t really mention anything specific.

“I waited for you to come home.” Y/n states bluntly earning a look before she grins at him. “No, I hit the gym. Went to that cooking class since my mum has been on me about knowing how to function as an adult who doesn’t just order in.”

“How’d it go?” Lando questions in amusement since his girlfriend has been working on a lot of “self-improvement” and has so far started going to the gym, bought a new wardrobe, cut her hair (but Lando didn’t notice because it was maybe an inch) and now she’s trying to take on the life skill of actually living off of more than sandwiches, noodles and the one thing she can make as a decent meal which is fajitas.

“Well…the teacher said it was edible.” She smiles nervously making a silence fall before Lando breaks into laughter and moves over to her.

“I love you, but you don’t need to be able to cook.”

“No, one day you’re going come back from a race to a hot meal and realise that I can make at least one good meal.” Y/n pouts before smiling. “But for now can we order pizza?”

“Yes. But I want to argue that you make amazing milkshakes and smoothies.”

And that’s how the day goes with them crashed out in the living room, they even end up playing some video games with Lando sitting on the floor while y/n’s legs rest over his shoulders.

Living life as an F1 driver is fun and all, but having a girlfriend who is happy to give him a break from all the excitement and just spend time with him doing whatever they feel like gives him the rest and reassurance that he’s didn’t even know he needed till he found her.

“Can I make one request for your appearance?” Y/n asks while they decide whether to keep playing or to make milkshakes.

“So controlling.” Lando jokes before leaning his head back enough to look at her. “Go on.”

“Don’t get rid of the curls. I love them so much.” Y/n pouts as he smiles brightly at her. “Please?”

“Ok, I promise to not get rid of the curls.”

“Thank you.” Y/n grins leaning over and kissing him. “So what else do you want to do with your days off?”

“Can we stream? Both of us?”

“So you can broadcast how bad I am?”

“No.” Yes.

Y/n looks at him with a deadpanned expression before groaning and agreeing since she can never say no to him when he’s just sat there innocently smiling at her.

“Fine, we can stream.”

After a 5-0 defeat of F12023, y/n declares she’s done and wants milkshakes.

“Guys, I can’t let her win. She’ll know and then be even more mad at me. I do have to go though, because she won’t make me a milkshake if I’m not there when she’s mad at me like this. And she makes the best milkshakes so I’m not missing out, and I do have to do a bit of grovelling to make up for it.” Lando smiles before ending the stream and rushing out into the kitchen. “Baby, I’m sorry…please make me a milkshake too.”

“No, you didn’t even try to give me a chance at winning.”

“I’m sorry. But you always get mad when I let you win.” Lando pouts then moving around and kissing her several times, apologising between each kiss. “I miss your milkshakes so much when I’m away from you, please don’t deprive me.”

“I hate how weak you make me.” Y/n pouts before she sighs softly then putting her finger on his chin and turning his head to see two milkshakes are waiting for them.

“You-You are the best thing in my life. You make days filled with doing nothing the best part of my week.�� Lando grins while she mirrors his expression.

#f1 #fanfic #formula 1 #lando norris x y/n #lando norris fanfic #lando x reader #lando norris imagine #lando norris #lando norris x reader #lando #norris #ln4 #ln4 imagine #ln4 x reader

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angelltheninth · 8 months

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Hey! Love youre work, wondering if you could a scenario with Ghost where reader and him a stuck somewhere tight and it gets spicy 👀👀

Taking advantage of small, tight spaces, in both ways.

Pairing: Simon "Ghost" Riley x Fem!Reader

Tags: nsfw, smut, grinding, quickie, coming in pants, stuck together, kissing, size difference, Reader being pinned

A/N: Small space, big guy, great combination.

Nothing ever went wrong on your missions with Simon, and you wouldn't call your current predicament bad, just very awkward

Being on top of him, in a small, almost box-like hiding space that you barely found in the abandoned hideout wasn't the most ideal, but it was the only place you could hide in

"Little tight in here isn't it? Good thing you didn't get in first, I'd hate to crush you." He can barely move too, he can raise his head and bend his knees a little but neither of you can properly stretch your legs

Simon doesn't have his nightvision gear on right now so he can't see your flustered face, thank good, but you're sure he can feel your heart drumming in your chest

You try to move a little to get some of your weight off him, but as you do you end up pressing down on his dick, feeling it twitch in his pants, "You can't put me in a small, cramped space with a cute girl like you and expect me not to have this reaction. I'm sorry if it makes you uncomfortable but it should go away as long as you stay still." He huffed out a half-laugh, half-groan when you moved again, "You're... stop. You're gonna it even..." You roll your hips again, "You little brat." His gloved hand smack your ass cheeks, kneading the soft flesh under his fingers

He can't smack you too much because you might get heard, "It's a nice sound though. Maybe some other time." Definitely some other time

The more you move the harder his erection gets to ignore

You're cursing against his neck, breathing faster and faster while he massages your tender ass and guides your hips at the same time

Some of the gear is still in the way but you can feel the muscles of his arms and legs against you, as well as the imprint of his cock against your clothed pussy

It feels hot, but this friction isn't enough to get you off, you need more, "But you can't stay quiet. Imagine if the enemy were to find us while you're in the middle of riding my cock. I think I'd die before the bullets hit." Despite that he's chuckling against your neck, "There is a way we can actually do this. Lift my mask up a little, it's okay."

You never imagined Simon's lips to be so soft, or his tongue so skilled

That and the fact that his cock already felt so big despite the clothing in the way had your imagination reeling

"You like how big I am compared to you. With your body being... well on the shorter side I must confess that I've been scared to get rough with you during training." Simon's lips brushed against your neck, his hips thrusting upwards as much as the small space enabled him, which wasn't much, but enough to get you close

Just a little more, "I wonder if you can even take my dick. Might be too big for you." You shook your head, rocking your hips back and forth in tandem with his, "So enthusiastic about being split open. Love me a good, little size queen slut. Who knew there was one in my squad?" Simon cut off your moan with his lips right as you began to near your climax

His hips stilled against yours, pinned down under yours actually while his cock pulsed in his pants, staining their front

He held you against his chest, trying to calm his breathing in this small space

Both of you stiffened when you heard footsteps approaching, all the adrenaline of your little encounter washed away, they got closer, closer, closer... "Oh, hey John! It's just you! You'll never guess what I found out about our new teammate."

#cod x reader #simon riley x reader #cod x female reader #simon ghost x reader #cod imagine #cod headcanons #cod smut #simon riley x you #simon riley smut #simon riley x female reader #mw2 x reader #mw2 imagine #mw2 headcanons #mw2 smut #call of duty x reader #call of duty smut #call of duty imagine #call of duty headcanons

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auggieblogs · 6 months

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"As snug as a bug in a rug" | LN4

Lando Norris x Reader Author's note: Hiii, everyone. I hope you all are having a good weekend!!! I am currently sick and very needy, hence, the sick fic. Also, I saw an Instagram reel where the boyfriend made a lunchbox for his girlfriend. Needless to say, I wanted to gouge my eyes (it was so fucking adorable). Anyway, I hope you all enjoy this one. Happy reading!❤️

―୨୧⋆ ˚masterlist

You woke up to the sound of your alarm blaring, a feeling of dread washing over you as you realized you'd overslept for your important math lecture. Your head was throbbing, your throat was sore, and the cold seemed to have settled in your bones. You knew you were in no condition to face a full day of classes, let alone an important lecture.

Frantically, you gathered your books, your nose still a little stuffy, and your eyes slightly teary from the cold. But as you were about to dash out of your room, a sweet aroma caught your attention. Following your nose, you walked into the kitchen to find Lando hard at work.

Lando was standing by the counter, wearing an apron that read "Kiss the Chef," his brows furrowed in concentration as he prepared your lunch. His culinary skills might not be top-notch, but he was determined to make a good lunchbox for you.

He glanced over at you, his face lighting up with a loving smile. "Hey there, sleepyhead," he said, his voice filled with warmth. "I thought I'd make you something to eat since you're not feeling well."

He presented you with a carefully prepared lunchbox. Inside, you found a delightful veggie chicken sandwich, your favourite double chocolate muffin, a peeled orange, freshly cut strawberries, your preferred crisps, and a bottle of apple juice. Lando had thought of everything you liked.

He even managed to draw a little, albeit a bit messy, a doodle of you two holding hands on the note he wrote, "I love you" written underneath.

You rushed into his arms, giving him a tight hug and planting a small, grateful peck on his cheek, being careful not to pass on your cold.

"Thank you, Lando," you whispered, your voice barely more than a whisper.

Lando gently brushed a strand of hair from your face and smiled softly. "You're welcome, love. Now, let's make sure you're feeling better." He handed you some medication and carefully spoon-fed you the cough syrup, making sure you didn't spill a drop.

Afterwards, he helped you into a warm jacket, tucking you in with care. "As snug as a bug in a rug," he said with a wink.

With your lunch packed, your cold medicine taken, and Lando by your side, you felt much better already. He took your hand and led you out the door, making sure you were bundled up warmly before driving you to university. During the car ride, he kept his hand on your thigh, occasionally squeezing it to reassure you.

Once you arrived on campus, Lando walked you to your math lecture, giving you another quick but sweet kiss before parting. "Take it easy and get well soon," he whispered.

You smiled, "I will, thanks to you. I love you, Lan."

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thegettingbyp2 · 21 days

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maybe something like feyd x fremen reader.

Maybe she captured him he is just like strong women marry me.

Impressive

A/N: So I have changed the request slightly simply so it was a bit easier for me to write but I have kept the strong woman, I hope that's okay!

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You could feel the blood dripping down your face from the cut just above your eye and your hands instinctively moved to try to wipe it away, only to be snagged by the cuffs that were keeping them behind your back. You had been a part of Paul’s plan to defeat the Harkonnens and it was your job to plant a trap for them. You’d almost managed it until one of the soldiers found you, overpowering your quickly and calling for the Na-Baron Feyd-Rautha.

You’d heard many things about Feyd-Rautha, heard about the way he would fight in the arena and how skilled he was with a knife. His reputation made fear fill your body at the idea of coming face to face with him but you were determined to stay strong and not let him see that fear.

When he walked into the room where they had been holding you, you were surprised to find yourself attracted to him with his broad shoulders and ridiculously pretty eyes and you felt yourself shake yourself out of it before you let him see any weakness in you. You were so preoccupied in your own thoughts, you failed to notice his eyes light up slightly when he looked at you.

‘Leave us,’ Feyd commanded in a strangely seductive voice, not once taking his eyes off of you. As soon as the door closed and it was just you and Feyd in the room, he stepped closer, tilting his head as he looked at you. ‘When they told me that a Fremen had made it through our defences, I can’t lie, I was expecting a man.’

‘Sorry to disappoint,’ you replied sarcastically, causing Feyd to raise his brow at you.

‘I didn’t say I was disappointed,’ Feyd replied, pretty much cutting you off, a smirk beginning to play on his lips. ‘Tell me,’ he said, crouching down in front of you and running a finger down your cheek, making you shiver violently, ‘why are you following Paul Atredies?’

‘He’s the chosen one,’ you replied simply, meeting his gaze and refusing to be the first one to look away. Feyd seemed to like your attitude as he smiled at you, showing you a glimpse of his black teeth. You knew that you shouldn’t find him attractive, but there was something about him that drew you in. However, all for the strong front you’d been putting on in front of him, you couldn’t stop the gasp from escaping your lips when, in a flash, you felt the sharp edge of a knife pressing against your throat, but still, you refused to look away.

Feyd made a sound of approval in the back of his throat, keeping the blade against your skin as he leaned in further, completely invading your space as he looked at you. ‘You’re impressive,’ he said, sounding amused, ‘most Fremen I encounter end up begging me to spare their life but I have a feeling you’re not the type of person to do that, are you?’

‘Why would I do that when you’ll just kill me anyway? You might as well just get on with it.’

‘I’m not going to kill you,’ he replied, much to your surprise, ‘I think I’d rather keep you around a bit longer.’

‘Then do you mind taking the knife away from my neck?’ The bluntness of your tone had a laugh escaping Feyd’s lips and you struggled to hide the surprised expression on your face. Feyd slowly lowered the blade before discarding it on the floor and pulling you to your feet, keeping his hands on your arms to keep you balanced before one of his hands slid up to cup your face, his thumb brushing your bottom lip gently.

‘Pretty and strong-willed,’ Feyd mused, tugging on your bottom lip slightly as he looked at you. ‘You’ll make the perfect Na-Baroness.’

#feyd rautha #feyd rautha x reader #feyd rautha imagine #dune part two #austin butler

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bakubunny · 4 months

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@dcsiremc you started this with your lil, “better run along, daddy’s waiting,” nonsense, so eat up.

tw: jealous!izuku, f!reader, aged up characters, daddy as title, mild degradation, mild breath play, exhibition, reader is called puppy, katsuki loves to instigate bs

your cheeks grew hot the moment katsuki’s hand lightly rested on your shoulder unnecessarily. he was hovering over you, answering a question you had about a case file. izuku cleared his throat from across the work room. you immediately pulled away from katsuki, who was looking back at izuku with a smug grin, unbeknownst to you. he watched as a vein bulged in izuku’s neck.

fuck, this is too easy, he thought. katuski knew how possessive izuku was and how easily he got jealous, especially when it came to you. he’d been doing this kind of shit all day - standing a little too close, speaking a little too softly so you’d have to lean in, taking one too many glances at your body when you weren’t looking - in an effort to set izuku off for the hell of it.

the final straw was when it was just the three of you in the agency. you were in front of the microwave. katsuki walked over and brushed his hand on the small of your back, hovering there as you froze while he reached around you to grab a coffee mug. you heard a pencil snap and a chair roll against the floor as izuku stood up.

“need something, kacchan?” tension laced his tone of voice.

katsuki looked at him in bewilderment. “no? just wanted a cup,” he said, holding the only other all might mug in the office in his hand.

you kept your head down as izuku walked over.

“then why the fuck are you touching my girl again?” izuku spat. he shoved katsuki’s shoulder.

“izu, stop-”

“shut the fuck up, brat, i’m dealing with you next,” he said.

katsuki bit back a grin. “tch. dunno what’s gotten into you but you need to chill.” izuku got in his face.

“keep your hands and your eyes to yourself, and i will. and you,” he said, turning your direction. izuku grabbed your bicep. “you just gonna let him do that when you know good and well who owns you? hmm?”

you froze, unsure of how he expected you to respond.

“answer me, pup,” he said quietly, leaning in to look you in the eyes.

katsuki’s grin broke and he snorted. your body grew hot.

“n-no, sir,” you whispered.

you flinched when his grip tightened.

“then what should you do?” his voice was as soft as he could manage, but the look on katsuki’s face told you he heard izuku’s every word.

“go to you.”

“that’s right,” izuku said.

izuku dragged you to the table where katsuki now sat with a plate of food for his lunch break. he took a fistful of your hair and pulled hard.

“ow! what are you doing?”

“reminding you of what’s mine. bend over. now.” he pressed your face into the table in front of the smug, blonde hero.

“are you crazy?” you asked. heat rushed to your core as izuku pinned one arm behind your back and grabbed the other to hold both of your hands tightly in one of his.

“you wanna play stupid games, you win stupid prizes. you know daddy doesn’t like to share,” he said. he lifted your skirt and ran his fingers along your panties, already more damp than you’d wanted to admit.

“izuk-”

your breath caught as a thick finger slipped into your cunt. his skilled hand rubbed into your spongy sweet spot in a way that made you flutter around him, closing your eyes and biting back a whine. you tried to turn your face away from the grinning man you knew was staring down at you.

“no, no, don’t be shy,” izuku said. “you wanna be a brat and whore yourself out right in front of me, you’re gonna let kacchan see your pretty face when i make you cry.”

a whimper slipped off your lips. izuku pushed a second finger into you. he pumped harder and faster, the messy sound audible as you moaned.

“yeah, that’s what i fucking thought.” he leaned into your ear. “you’re just a dumb puppy, need to be put in your place. too stupid to know any better without my help.”

your cheeks burned as katsuki snickered, seeming unphased by what he was doing.

“open.”

izuku shoved slick covered fingers into your mouth to clean off before pulling your panties down. he made quick work of unbuckling his belt and freeing his heavy cock. you cried out when he pushed into your cunt with a single thrust, tears pricking the corners of your eyes from overwhelming girth as he set a hard pace. the breath was knocked out of your lungs as he fucked you, a cold sweat forming on your skin as your body tried to adjust.

“izu, fuc- ah! it h-hurts,” you whined.

izuku’s hips slapped harder and faster into yours. “stop bitching, i know you can take it. take it like a good girl. take my fucking cock.”

the lump in your throat burned from the mix of pain and overwhelming pleasure rapidly overtaking your body. tears fell down your cheeks when a hard smack hit your ass and you groaned. katsuki looked down at you with a sickening grin as he ate.

“tch. dinner and a show. at least you’re good for somethin’,” he said.

izuku grunted. he let go of your arms and moved a hand to grip your hip. his free arm worked its way under and around your neck as his bicep flexed. your eyes rolled with his thrust at a slightly different angle, dragging his cock head along your sweet spot at a blinding pace.

“hear that? even kacchan knows where you belong,” izuku said, his warm breath fanning your skin.

you made a pitiful attempt at pulling on izuku’s tightening arm, the size of him and the strength of his hold only making the sound of your wet cunt sloppy and lewd as you clenched hard around his cock. lightheadedness trickled in as gurgling moans added to the disgusting slew of humiliating noises your body made.

“‘zuku-”

“nuh uh, baby. who owns this pussy? who do you belong to?” he growled.

a shudder rolled down your back. you gasped as his grip loosened slightly. “daddyy-”

“say it again.” izuku’s lips grazed your ear.

“d-daddy, fuck, daddy,” you whined, drool pooling in the corner of your mouth.

his fingers dug into your hip hard enough to bruise.

“that’s it, puppy. better keep it up til you fucking cum. wanna hear you tell me that when you cum for me,” he said.

with your head spinning, the coil in your belly felt ready to snap as you nearly came undone. izuku’s balls clapped against your clit, sparks of tingling pleasure in your body as he moved, fucking you hard and deep. the sound of your slurred, pathetic voice crying out over and over as your legs shook made him groan.

“gonna make - shit - make me cum, fuck,” izuku said. c’mon, i know you’re close. be a good fuck toy and cum on my cock.”

“daddy, ah-”

you moaned and trembled when your orgasm came crashing down in white hot pleasure as you pushed your hips into his thrusts. izuku fucked you through it as his own hit, filling you with his hot cum with a growl.

“fuck, that’s it, milk my cock dry…. s’ a good girl….”

izuku groaned again before kissing your head as you came down from bliss. you could already feel wet heat trickling down your thighs. katsuki’s grin told you he was never going to let you live this down.

･˳ . ⋆ .˳⁺⁎˚ ⋆･˳ . ⋆ .˳⁺⁎˚ ⋆･˳ . ⋆ .˳⁺⁎˚ ⋆

one month later

you stood at katsuki’s desk, clarifying something about his recently submitted case file, feeling the weight of izuku’s eyes on you as he answered you. katsuki glanced in his direction and smirked.

“better run along. daddy’s waiting.”

if you’d like to be added to my tag list, let me know. ♡

gremlins: @sluttyshigaraki @dcsiremc @darkstarlight82 @bookcluberror @neon-gothicc @zazter-den @breadandbutter33 @i-literally-cant-with-this @rinalouu @stvrfir3 @r4td0lll @emmab3mma @aria-chikage @mhadabiandhawks4eva @yazminetrahan @doumadono @dreamcastgirl99 @maddietries @jazzafayesworld @karebear5118 @unofficialmuilover @cherriluvs35 @erensslut @ruu-https @hana-yuri @keiva1000 @katsul0vr @trickster-kat @ayeohoh-blog @dinomeow @flamgosstuff @mistressreaper @angelltheninth @anonymously-ominous @amberexe2 @hisconsistency @nanamisbigassschlong @223princess @honeeslust @naughtygobbo @acenanxious @blumoonwisteria @chaos-gem @kxtsxkii

#it’s my hc that the tables have literally been bolted to the floor bc of these two and their damn antics #but they work so well together that no one’s willing to split them up #(meaning bkdk)#shamelessly targeted payback after your many targeted aizawa & kiri fics #midoriya izuku #midoriya smut #bakugo katuski #bakugou katsuki #bakugou smut #bnha smut #mha smut #x reader #midoriya x reader #bakudeku smut #bakudeku x reader #f!reader #bakubunny #aged up characters

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johannestevans · 10 months

Text

I came out as trans at about fifteen or sixteen, changed my name, and I’ve lived as a man since. As a young man doing my A-Levels, going to university, and working afterwards, I was out as a man, using he/him pronouns, using my actual name —

Two pictures of me, one at age 16, the other at age 19.

To people who had no idea what a trans man looked like, it was pretty easy to give people a funny look and say, “I’m a man,” in a tone that made them suddenly flustered and nervous, because cis people feel extremely guilty about misgendering another cisgender person in a way they don’t when they know you’re trans.

I was thin, had a lower-toned but still not masculine voice, didn’t have much of a chest — I got gendered correctly automatically maybe 30 or 40% of the time, and maybe up to 50% if I employed shame in the right way, implied I was cis with a hormonal imbalance, or if people assumed I was still a teenage boy rather than an adult.

To people who did know what a trans man looked like but weren’t trans themselves, talking to them was fucking excruciating.

I remember once when I was selling house alarms and some hideous cis girl asked, “Are you transgender?” and I immediately told her, “Nope,” as she kept questioning the point. Another time, I was in the back of a taxi when a man asked if I was trans, although thankfully when I told him, “Nope, just low testosterone,” he seemed to immediately believe me and back the fuck off.

It’s one of the reasons I feel conflicted about trans visibility — it’s great for other trans people to see a variety of trans representation, but cis people knowing what trans people are is a double-edged sword, because cis people are entitled, invasive, and often just straight-up weird about gender, most of all when they think they’re being allies.

When I started working at a hotel, my immediate boss was a very abusive woman — she was petty, vindictive, and because she had poor organisational skills and frequently got flustered by her own workload, she would take this out on any staff around her, whether that was her juniors, other management, or sometimes guests.

Her being abusive in the workplace wasn’t that unusual. Now and then the managers would misgender me, and I’d correct them, and they’d brush it off as they apologised, that sort of thing.

Because this manager identified as an ally, she flipped her fucking lid.

She went off on a tirade for some ten minutes about what a great ally she is, and how much she knows about and cares about trans people, and how a lot of people wouldn’t hire a trans person, and she volunteers with local queer groups (she was at the time a mediocre DJ, and frequently DJed at a local gay club), and all this bluster.

Over one (apparently needed) correction.

All she needed to do was not misgender me — a quick “sorry” might have been nice. A ten-minute rant about how she was a saint for hiring me?

Not really necessary.

Cisgender people hate trans people — and I know some cis people reading this are immediately raising their hackles and about to go “well not ALL cis people — “ because they’re allies, and it’s important that I know that they’re a good one, actually, and they’re a real ally.

But the reason that cis people have a knee-jerk negative reaction to trans people, intersex people, and any person that they have decided is gender non-conforming, the reason they respond so punishingly to our existence or to mild misbehaviours on our parts — such as demanding respect or correcting their mistakes — is because our very existence is an interruption to their worldview, the ideologies and biases by which they live.

They should know what a man is just by looking at one, and if they get it wrong, that’s embarrassing for them — because to cisgender people the binary male-female divide is crucial to the way they respect or disrespect others, people that interrupt their thinking on it can trigger a lot of rage and upset. A trans person represents a frightening challenge — what if they accidentally treated a man with the casual disrespect that is rightfully allotted women? What if they sexually objectified a man thinking he was a woman, and it made them gay for a moment?

If they think you’re cisgender and heterosexual enough, any of these things are their fault, and they feel very bad about them.

But if you’re trans?

Well, it’s your fault for existing that way, right? You’re the one doing genders wrong — they’re not the one that made the error!

There’s a particular rage reserved for trans men, lesbians, and any other trans or GNC person that’s perceived as being “biologically female” — because society feels the greatest gender-based entitlement over these people’s bodies, in large part due to institutional misogyny, we’re perceived as gender traitors.

Cis men hate us because we’ve ruined what they perceived as a resource for them — a source of sexual gratification and aesthetic pleasure, a breeding vessel for birthing babies, not to mention a mother with all the domestic labour that comes with; cis women hate us because they perceive us as gaining all the privileges of being male, of gaming the system, and at the same time breaking what they sometimes feel is a sort of sacred trust of femininity.

In order to cope with institutional misogyny, some cis women effectively craft a further gender-based bioessentialism — if you have a uterus and are perceived as a woman by society, you’re not just physically capable of birthing a child. You must also innately have the traits of an ideal mother — you must be nurturing and lovely, you must be caring, you must have the correct emotions, you must be submissive in the right way. But also, a woman like this must be cleverer than a man, and if she effectively parents or cares for the men in her life, she just does that because she is so smart, and men are so stupid.

Again, trans people represent an interruption to that mode of thinking. If trans people are real, and we’re the genders we say we are, all of that ideology is nonsense.

If I, a trans man, can just “choose” to be a man, doesn’t that mean that every woman that experiences misogyny is just “choosing” misogynistic abuse?

The fact that as a trans man, I experience abuses that are linked to misogyny is irrelevant — that I’m at a higher risk of sexual abuse, that medical professionals dismiss my symptoms as soon as some of them realise I’m “really” a woman and cease my treatment or cease treating me with the respect due a man; that people dismiss me and dehumanise me, either because they think I’m transgender, and therefore a lesser being, or an ugly and not sexually available woman, and therefore a lesser being.

If I’m a trans man, I must experience male privilege — why else would I choose to be trans?

And if I don’t experience male privilege in every situation, because people don’t always consider me male or legitimately male, or if male privilege in any given situation I experience is actually complicated by other factors, such as race, disability, sexuality, and so on, then I must be lying.

Passing privilege isn’t the same as male privilege — passing privilege generally refers to the privileges a transgender person experiences because they reliably pass as cisgender.

I don’t think that it’s universal — “passing privilege” assumes that everyone passes in all situations, and while I would say that I pass very reliably in a lot of mine now that I’m several years on T and my second puberty has been very good to me, this doesn’t apply everywhere.

When I’m in the hospital, for example, or otherwise seeing a doctor, I get treated with even more hostility — partially because most cis doctors practice misogyny-based medicine and are more likely to dismiss women’s symptoms or generally give them worse medical care, especially male doctors treating women. In my experience, cis female doctors are more likely to punish me for being transgender than a cis male one is.

I’ve noticed multiple times going to see a doctor, being treated as a man with all my pain or symptoms being treated as a concern, and then abruptly there’s a sudden withdrawal of care and concern when the doctor either realises I’m transgender and/or realises I’m “really” a woman.

But the thing is?

I’m pretty sure that the reason I suddenly receive such aggressive negative response is because I pass so well. When cis people realise that I’m trans, they feel even angrier and more personally betrayed, because I’ve so thoroughly “tricked” them by being a man without their permission.

Me at 24, about a year on testosterone; me at 25, about two years on testosterone. Same blouse, same vest.

But in general, day-to-day life — yeah, I’m perceived as a cis man.

Notably, a cis gay man.

Regularly, other trans guys and some butches tell me that as they began to present in ways perceived as more masculine, they noticed that women in public responded to them differently.

If they were out at night and a woman was walking alone nearby, she might cross the street to be a bit further away from them; she might choose to sit elsewhere rather than be near them on a bench; a woman alone might not want to share a lift with them.

I thought this was interesting the first few times I heard it — I hear it all the time, and it still strikes me as curious, because I don’t experience the same thing at all.

I’ve never had a woman walk away from me, or be careful not to be alone with me. Frequently, women strike up conversation with me in public, they chat to me on buses the way they might with other women — a little while ago I was waiting for my boyfriend to pick me up from the airport, and a young girl of 19 or so actually came up to me to ask if she could hotspot off my phone for a second and to ask me for directions.

It’s not that women alone shouldn’t strike up conversation with men, or shouldn’t be alone with them — but just to avoid any potential discomfort or risk of being harassed, many of them understandably avoid it.

But a lot of women see me in the street or in public places, and when they perform their internal risk assessment, I don’t prompt a red flag.

Part of it is that I’m skinny and white, sure — I’m not very physically intimidating in terms of my size, and I’m not racialised in the way many Black and dark-skinned men and boys are. Sometimes, I’m using a mobility aid like a cane, and that makes a difference, too.

But as a rule, I’m pretty. I wear make-up — I often wear face stickers and have visible “tattoos”. I’m fussy about my hair, and it shows. I dress in bright prints and florals, I wear silks and satins, I wear waistcoats and high-waisted jeans, I wear block heels.

When I walk, I sashay my hips. I hold my hands in a delicate way — I gesticulate freely, and I move my fingers when I do so in an effete way. If they hear me talk, people often guess from my accent that I’m English rather than Welsh, and that I’m more educated than I am, not to mention significantly posher.

The average cishet stranger in the street absolutely sees me as a man — and they exclusively see me as a gay one. No one ever mistakes me for a straight one, and that absolutely affects the way I’m treated.

I couldn’t possibly pose a threat of sexual harassment in many women’s eyes, because I’m obviously gay, and many cis straight women feel very comfortable with — if not entitled to — gay men’s companionship, especially white gays with effete mannerisms.

When talking about gender-based privileges for trans men and mascs, we don’t tend to consider any impact that perceptions of our sexuality can have, but because of the way gay men are sorted into a different subclass of cis masculinity than straight men, there’s a noticeable impact.

Straight people sometimes roll their eyes or look amused when they think I’m being particularly dramatic or gay; occasionally straight men wolf-whistle at me or make comments about how gay I look; people strike up conversations with me about RuPaul’s Drag Race, start chattering to me about drag, because they just assume that’s the sort of thing I would be into. I get looks sometimes on the bus if I’m chatting with friends or on the phone, or sometimes if I’m just there in front of them and I look very gay.

Most of this isn’t incredibly malicious — is it homophobic? Sure, sometimes. A lot of it is just straight people trying to understand what they think is gay culture the best way they know how.

Parents with kids actually make me the most nervous — not because there’s any danger posed by the kids themselves most of the time, but because parents can be the most vicious when it comes to homophobia. They’ll accuse gay men of being paedophiles just for existing in public and seeming a bit fruity, or they’ll get nervous about how gay someone looks in case their kids ask questions about it.

And kids do find how I look interesting — all the time, I’ll be out in public, and a kid will notice that my nails are painted or that I’m wearing high heels or that they see tattoos on my face, and they’ll ask their parents about it.

It’s anxiety-inducing for any parent when their child starts acting about a stranger’s appearance where the stranger can hear them, because they get worried about the potential impoliteness — when that stranger is a faggot, some of them get angry at me, because once again, even without their knowing I’m transgender, I’m interrupting their worldview of what the correct gendered behaviours are, forcing them to think about it, forcing them to explain aberrations to their kids.

A “normal”, “real” man is straight, after all, and does straight men’s things, like dress badly and sexually harass women and get ugly haircuts. It’s confusing, if I’m out on the streets looking fuckable.

The last time I was travelling, I was sitting in a restaurant in the airport, and some boys at the next table were staring at me.

“Dad, why is that man wearing makeup?”

“I don’t know, some men wear it.”

“How come?”

“…”

It is a truth universally acknowledged that wherever a faggot goes, little boys will be asking their mildly homophobic but well-meaning and liberal parents questions about that man’s physical appearance.

A classic response, and one that I overhear often, was this man’s retort: “Why don’t you go and ask him?”

Sometimes teenagers and kids laugh at how I dress, especially if they’re in groups together — and especially, too, if there’s a bunch of us visible queers together.

One thing I’ve noticed about wearing crop-tops is that some people get het-up about how hairy I am and the hair visible on my belly, or under my arms if I’m wearing a vest — because some straight people see a white twink and want to reclassify him as being part of the woman subcategory instead of the man subcategory (based on his assumed sexual availability to men), they then apply women’s rules of physical appearance to him.

After all, if I’m wearing makeup and high heels and high-waisted jeans and a crop-top, that’s like how a woman dresses — and if I’m going to dress like a woman even though I’m obviously a man, I should be held to the standards a woman would be too. I should be hairless and odourless, like a sexy child, because “sexy child” is the ideal for an attractive woman, right?

Some cishet women also hate how I dress and instead of laughing or grumbling about it in the way that cishet men do, they wrinkle their noses and get really quite scornful about it.

Some of those women’s husbands are secretly on Grindr (I know because I have sex with them), and I believe this is the closest they get to facing their suspicions as to their husbands’ bisexuality.

A photo of me from earlier this month, age 26.

I started taking testosterone some months before the pandemic started, but experienced the bulk of my second puberty’s physical effects over the course of the following years.

Subsequently, when I went to a queer event being run after about two years on testosterone, many people there hadn’t seen me out in some time. I got a lot of looks and a lot of interest, especially from other queer men, in a way I never had before — I always got a lot of engagement and looks, but many cis gay men would take a little while to warm up to the idea of me as a man if they knew or suspected I was trans.

Maybe it’s just because I’m hotter, though, right? I’m hardly the only person to go through a glow-up on HRT, and I certainly feel more attractive.

Except that several of the older men looking at me were men I’d known casually for years — and a bunch of them came up and introduced themselves. Said hi, what’s your name, I’m x, it’s nice to meet you, are you new to the city?

Because up ’til then, they really hadn’t much looked at me in much detail. Many of these men had heard me give talks, had talked to me in queer bars, had met me at one event or another, and I just hadn’t stuck in their minds — they certainly hadn’t come up and spoken to me before, let alone with such enthusiasm.

And I do want to say, like —

None of these men would call themselves anti-trans — they’d try to use the right pronouns, they’d say that there should be trans events on, and so on. But there’s still going to be unconscious biases there — whether up ’til now they saw me as a woman (and therefore just looked past me) or saw me as trans (and therefore just looked past me), suddenly I was a fully realised human being. Maybe I was attractive and fuckable to some of them — but crucially, I was also another gay man, and therefore real and worth talking to.

And I will say that this isn’t all older gay men in my community or even like, a massive majority of them — but it was enough older gay men to be noticeable.

Even entering into new gay spaces, queer men tend to be friendlier to me than they used to, more outgoing in conversation, chattier, etc.

That’s obviously not necessarily because I’m trans — like I said, I’m also hotter than I used to be, I’m older, more educated, I dress better and more confidently, etc. There’s other factors at play, and I’m not comparing friendliness to cruelty or coldness — I’m comparing it to polite apathy, which was often mild enough that I wasn’t hugely affected by it pre-T.

Some men do treat me a little coldly, but from what I can tell it’s not usually because they suspect or know I’m trans — a lot of the time it’s actually because I’m so faggy and effeminate, or they just don’t trust that I’m gonna be cool because I’m so young.

Mixed queer spaces can be another story.

Other queer people my age have often found me intimidating — I’m a pretty outspoken person, my politics are more aggressive leftwing than many people’s, and as a autistic, I speak plainly and directly in a way that a lot of people don’t care for, or can find scary and overwhelming.

Now, though?

The response to my perceived aggression is a lot more dramatic and avoidant — because now they assume I’m a cisgender man.

People often interpret me as angry or aggressive when I’m not — I can sometimes be somewhat flat in my affect, I can be a very blunt communicator, I don’t tend to beat around the bush when it comes to my opinions. All of these are pretty standard as an autistic guy, and a lot of other people have experienced the same thing I have — the interpretation of those personality traits as aggressive or argumentative.

But it’s been interesting experiencing the negative response ramp up so much as soon as I’m perceived as “really” male, even by other transmascs, queer people, and trans men.

It can be strange at times navigating broader trans spaces as someone who doesn’t look trans in the way even other trans people expect you to, where they just assume that you’re cisgender, or that as someone who already passes and has therefore “finished” your journey as a trans person, there’s less reason for you to be in community with other trans people.

Especially when it comes to trauma like…

There is an assumption by many young queer people that cis gay people are just fine now, that homophobia doesn’t impact them in the traumatic way it did older generations, or that homophobia is no longer an active impact on people’s lives — I obviously am transgender, but to be brushed off with the assumption I haven’t experienced the same extent of bigotry or negative experience because I appear cisgender always strikes me as fucked up when of course a lot of cis men have had similar life experiences to me, or worse.

I will say that again, the negative responses are from a minority, just big enough to be noticeable, and the more people talk to me, the more they relax a little about the whole thing.

It’s still funny though, like —

I met some trans friends of a partner recently, and I came downstairs without a shirt on because I was hurriedly multitasking, and watched her do a double take at my chest.

I laughed and was like, “Did you not realise I was trans?”

And she went, “No!” and we had a giggle about it.

Most of the time meeting other queer people across the board, I’m extended care and compassion and love — it’s just weird, I think, being so aware of the gendered differences in how people speak with and apparently perceive me, and how things have and do change, especially because people assume transmasculinity means a one-way journey to Male Privilege, and all the benefits it can come with.

As with any and everything else, these matters come with nuance and layers, and nothing is as simple as A to B with no complications.

#musings #transgender #trans rights #trans man #trans mlm

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darkshelbyfiction · 6 months

Text

Personal Whore (Kink Series)

Pairing: Tommy Shelby x Female Reader

Summary: This Series will explore different fetishes including an innocence kink, somnophilia, anal play, watersports, bdsm, marking, edging, and anything else you would like me to include!

In this series, you are Thomas Shelby's maid. You are innocent and shy. This is your first job. Thomas Shelby takes an interest in you and pays you to become his personal whore. He makes you have sex with him in exchange of money, every day, using perverse techniques to satisfy his needs.

PART ONE: ORAL SKILLS

"You have been working for me for two weeks now Love and you recently turned 18, right?" Thomas questioned and you nodded timidly, nervous about what might come next.

"I... yes sir," you whispered softly, averting your gaze slightly out of shyness. The room seemed impossibly large and dimly lit, accented only by the flickering candlelight reflecting off the pristine white sheets upon the bed.

"Very well, that means that you are of legal age for my proposition." His voice dripped honeyed promises.

"Now let me ask you, Love... Do you know what some of the other maids here do for me in order to earn some more money?" your employer asked quietly, watching you closely.

"They perform various tasks, sir," you answered hesitantly, trying not to imagine where he could be going with this conversation.

"That's right," he said before looking at you with even more intensity in his gaze. "And do you know what these tasks entail?"

He asked, leaning closer, his proximity sending waves of anxiety through your body.

"Well," you began cautiously, choosing your words carefully. "Sarah said that, occasionally, she would touch you down there," you blushed, feeling mortified at having revealed such intimate information, albeit indirectly. You noticed a flash of excitement in his eyes when mentioning sensitive areas—a sign that perhaps this wasn't all just talk?

Thomas nodded thoughtfully, his expression unreadable as he processed your response. Then he rose gracefully from his seat, moving deliberately toward you like a predator closing in on its prey. It felt odd being so close to someone with whom you had worked for almost two months without any physical contact beyond casual banter.

"She occasionally touches me, yes," replied Thomas, maintaining eye contact. "But it isn't always required – merely desired. So I wonder, my dear, how far would you go for some extra compensation?" He smirked subtly, inviting himself deeper into the territory where you were reluctant to venture.

The heat of the moment caused you to feel flustered and uncertain as you attempted to gauge the severity of Thomas' intentions. Your heart raced faster than ever before, threatening to escape your chest as sweat glistened lightly along your brow.

"You want me to touch your pe..., uhm, you know...down there..." your voice trailed off, unable to find the courage to say the word 'penis'. Thomas smiled reassuringly, appreciating your discomfort as he realized you hadn't quite grasped the extent of his proposal.

"Yes, sweetheart. I want you to touch my cock and, maybe, one day, you will even take it in to your mouth or let me put it into your pussy, eh," Thomas stated confidently while running his hand across your cheek, causing involuntary shivers to run up your spine.

Your face colored deeply with embarrassment, though it also held an undeniable hint of curiosity. While your desire to please and satisfy your newfound benefactor burned intensely, something inside you screamed that taking things further than simple caresses went too far - yet another layer of turmoil added to the complex relationship unfolding between you both.

Having sensed your inner conflict, Thomas chose to approach the subject tactically.

Slowly, tenderly brushing aside a lock of your hair, he asked: "How does that make you feel, sweetheart?" His tone betrayed no judgement or impatience, instead offering understanding and acceptance. "Do you think you can handle that sort of responsibility?"

You trembled underneath his gentle ministrations, torn between fear and arousal, struggling to process your rapidly evolving feelings towards your once strictly professional superior.

"I never even seen a man's private parts before, sir. I was saving myself for marriage, but some extra cash would sound nice too," Your statement came out as a quiet plea for guidance, a confession of ignorance that exposed your vulnerability.

"Well, for what it's worth, no one would ever find out, Love. Not even your future husband," Thomas said and there was a sinister edge to his tone.

"I know that you are a good catholic girl, but sometimes it is worth doing bad things for the right incentive, wouldn't you agree?" Thomas said before he decided to lay bare his plans for you. "So, listen very carefully. If you agree to carry out these tasks, then I promise you that I will give you double your usual wages for the duration of your employment. In addition, I will give you £500 for your virginity and loyalty. How does that strike you?"

Stunned and bewildered, you stared at him in disbelief. Double your pay for doing things you didn't understand fully and parting ways with your cherished purity – your whole world suddenly seemed to spin wildly out of control. Yet despite the magnitude of the choices facing you, one thing remained clear: continuing as your present self would lead to financial ruin.

With tears swelling in your eyes, you found yourself considering Thomas' offer, wondering whether surrendering everything you believed in truly amounted to nothing less than selling your soul. Still, it was difficult to resist the lure of instant prosperity, particularly given the dire straits you faced otherwise. As you struggled internally, Thomas watched patiently, waiting for you to decide. Finally, with a heavy heart, you made your decision.

Nodding solemnly, you declared, "Alright, Mr. Shelby, I agree, but I need you to triple my wages and add another £500 for my virtue."

With an approving smile curling at the corner of his lips, Thomas conceded, "Agreed. I will triple your wages and pay you a lump sum of £1,000 for your precious purity," your employer said before unbuckling his belt without bothering to remove the rest of his clothes.

"Understandably, you may need time to become comfortable enough to execute these duties adequately, so I shall start you off slowly," Thomas explained calmly before unzipping his pants and thereby exposing his erect member. Despite your reservations, you couldn't help but notice the size and firmness of his cock as he pushed down his pants halfway.

"It doesn't look so scary, does it, Love?" he murmured, his voice holding an undercurrent of amusement, attempting to ease your apprehension as he reached for your hand, guiding it tentatively towards his penis. With an anxious breath, you followed his instruction, marveling at the weightiness of his organ, still unsure of exactly what he expected from you.

As your fingers traced delicate patterns over his length, you discovered small nubs on the underside, eliciting a deep groan from him. Uncertain about your progress thus far, you glanced upwards briefly to catch sight of his reaction, finding satisfaction etched upon his features.

"See, Love, we're making headway already," Thomas commented gently, encouraging you with warmth.

Despite your lingering apprehensions, the confidence exuded by your master proved infectious, allowing you to relax somewhat and follow the path laid out before you.

Inch by inch, your exploration continued until you encountered the tiny knobbiness located near the base of his organ. Upon stimulating it, Thomas' moans grew louder, confirming your suspicion that you had struck gold.

Encouraged by this success, you bravely moved onto his sacrum, discovering that a soft ticklish patch accompanied it. Smiling sheepishly, you proceeded to explore the area thoroughly. After satisfying yourself with a leisurely tour, you finally turned your attention back to the main event – his impressively throbbing phallus.

Feeling emboldened, you took hold of the tip, applying a slight pressure that resulted in a low grumble emitting from Thomas.

Taking hold of your hand again, he positioned it correctly, demonstrating proper technique. Encouraged by his expertise, you mirrored his movements and gradually increased the strength of your strokes, matching his fervent pace.

"That's it, love! Keep going!" he urged, his hands now wrapped tightly around yours before making a somewhat unusual request.

"How do you feel about taking my cock into your mouth, Love?" Thomas whispered huskily, watching your every move closely.

"You want me to do what?" you asked, still feeling uneasy about performing such acts. The mere idea sent waves of nervousness coursing through your body, prompting your limbs to quiver.

"I want you to practice sucking my cock, Love," Thomas insisted matter-of-factly, a commanding authority evident in his tone.

Swallowing hard, you hesitated for a brief moment before asking timidly, "Like a lollipop?"

"No, not like a lollipop, Love," Thomas replied, his words filled with amused indulgence. "Just wrap your lips around the head first and start by licking off my pre-cum. Trust me, it won't be as terrible as you might imagine."

His assurance did little to alleviate your anxiety, but nonetheless, you nodded obediently.

Gingerly, you took his thick shaft into your small hands, immediately experiencing a strange mixture of revulsion and fascination.

Carefully lowering your head, you pressed your tongue to the engorged head, savoring the salty taste of his precum.

"There you go, sweetheart. Lick around the ridge just above the hole," Thomas instructed you kindly, clearly aware of how intimidated you were feeling.

"That's a good girl," he told you and, just as you obeyed his directive, your fingers simultaneously worked to stroke the entire length of his impressive manhood.

"Now take me in your mouth, sweetheart. As far as you can," Thomas commanded authoritatively, his voice full of raw demand as, with trembling fingers, you complied, opening wide to accommodate his girth.

"Beautiful," Thomas breathed, appreciating your attempt before holding onto your hair and pulling slightly to guide your mouth deeper down on his erection.

As your lips grazed the sensitive skin beneath his glans, a wave of dizziness assaulted you, leaving you gasping as you tried to regulate your breathing.

"There you have it, sweetheart, take it all," Thomas directed firmly, pressing your mouth harder against him. Gulping reflexively, you felt the foreign object filling your mouth, causing your cheeks to bulge comically.

"I will fuck your throat now," Thomas muttered roughly, thrusting himself further into your open mouth, causing you to gag involuntarily. Your eyes watered with the unexpected intensity of sensation. But even amidst the choking panic, something inside you recognized an undeniable thrill.

Thomas held you firmly in place, ensuring you maintained eye contact throughout the experience. As your struggle to maintain control intensified, so did his aggressiveness.

"Good girl," he growled approvingly when you managed to adapt quickly, albeit tears streaming down your face and saliva dripping from your chin.

His cock now nestled comfortably within your tender throat, Thomas began moving faster, building momentum. His touch became more forceful as you submitted to his demands blindly, consumed by newfound passion.

"Do you know what happens to a man when he orgasms, Love?" Thomas asked teasingly, raising an eyebrow playfully as he continued to use your mouth and throat for your pleasure.

Confusion crossed your face, unable to discern the meaning behind his inquiry as you shook your head.

"Well, when I cum, seed will spill out from my cock right into your eager mouth," Thomas clarified casually while fondling your wet cheek. "Are you ready for that?"

Your brow furrowed, processing the implications of his statement. It dawned on you that your role as his sexual submissive required complete submission, including receiving the ultimate release from your employer.

You nodded silently, acknowledging your willingness to accept whatever fate awaited you. And as Thomas' hips started bucking violently, indicating his imminent climax, you steeled yourself, preparing for the inevitable outcome.

"Good girl. I want you to swallow my load completely," Thomas ordered, his voice rough with anticipation as he thrusted in and out of your throat. Without question, you opened wider, bracing yourself for the sudden explosion. As Thomas' hips jerked forward, releasing a torrent of hot semen directly into your gaping mouth, you could barely contain your shock. The searing liquid burned your throat, stinging fiercely, but you endured, determined to satisfy your master. Consequently, Thomas let loose a powerful roar, his muscles tensing powerfully, as his body convulsed in ecstasy.

Pulling away from your tender mouth after the volley was spent, he looked deeply into your eyes, searching for any signs of resistance or regret. Finding none, a satisfied smirk formed across his lips. "Very good indeed, Love. Now open your mouth and show me your tongue once again," commanded Thomas, placing one palm on either side of your face. Submissively, you parted your lips to expose your reddened tongue, waiting patiently for further orders. "Keep practicing, because soon you'll be giving me blowjobs regularly until, in two weeks or so, I will fuck this virgin pussy of yours," he informed you confidently, running his finger along your neck, arousal evident in his gaze.

Understanding implicitly that your services would extend beyond the confines of today's encounter, you silently accepted your fate without protest.

After all, despite the humiliation and unfamiliar experiences you underwent, there remained an inexplicable allure. Something about submitting entirely to the desires of another piqued an unidentifiable desire deep within you, stirring feelings that seemed almost forbidden. In time, perhaps these indistinct yearnings could evolve into something concrete and tangible. For now, however, you must focus solely on perfecting your skills as Thomas' personal pleasure provider and you soon learned that his requests are more than just a little unusual.

#cillian murphy #peaky blinder fanfic #peaky blinders #cilliean murphy smut #peaky blinders imagine #thomas shelby #thomas shelby imagine #thomas shelby smut #thomas shelby x reader #tommy selby x reader #tommy shelby fanfic #tommy shelby imagine #tommy shelby x reader #tommy shelby smut #tommy shelby #thomas shelby x you #tommy shelby fic

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mrsnancywheeler · 4 months

Text

the lakes (6) // finnick odair x f. reader

merry christmas to all who celebrate, my gift to you 🎄

summary: it's supposed to be over, you and Finnick are supposed to spend the rest of your lives helping each other heal. living as peacefully as possible, but the the third quarter quell throws a wrench in your domestic bliss.

previous chapter / next chapter

midnight rain

5k words

warnings: angst, fluff, SMUT MDNI (y'all better eat it up while it's here bc this might be one of like twice or three times so merry christmas lmao), orgasm denial, teasing, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it), slightly mean finnick but also softdom, mentions and allusions to trafficking and sexual trauma, self-hate, manipulation of someone's feelings, allusions to death/violence, pnv, usage of weapons, terms of endearment, no use of y/n, unedited, cumming inside, mental health issues, self doubt, hypocritical reader, savior complex finnick

𓈒⠀𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀𓇬⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃⠀𓈒

Cold air hit your skin as the doors to the training center opened, instantly you could feel the onslaught of goosebumps on your arms. “Remember brush up on skills, knives, spears and number one objective-”

"Katniss.” You finished for him. "You go get your hands back on that trident, and hopefully my instincts will remember what it takes to throw a knife or a spear.”

"If not, work on some survival skills, but I think the instincts will kick in.” You tilted your head to the side, uncertain but humoring the idea. He kissed you softly, “See you soon."

"I'm only going to be a few hundred feet away, Finnick.” You smiled and he did too.

“Well that's a few hundred feet too far.”

"Good thing you can come find me anytime you want.” Squeezing his hand as you reluctantly took a few steps back.

“You don't want to come and admire me back in my element?" He joked, his grin bearing his shining teeth.

“In your dreams, Odair."

“Absolutely!" Finnick's eyebrows quirked up before you finally pulled yourself out of his magnetic field to focus on the more viral thing, survival.

It had been so long since you'd thrown a knife with purpose, over half a decade which had been what you felt most confident in. Of course there had been a couple times, admittedly more than a couple, when your nerves spiked up and a moment where you were simply making dinner, chopping something up, to being spooked by a noise that led to a knife wedged in a wall or cupboard. So Finnick cooked and cut, he wasn't as easily startled or on edge.

This year they had clearly made more of an investment into the training, a little pad verifying it was you when you stood on the elevated block. You took a second before lifting the tiny weapons from where they lay, the weight was instantly familiar in a way that made your chest heave. It felt like you were that same young girl again, trying to see what could help her survive, help her overcome others. Finnick has been right, how to throw a knife, how to throw it to kill, all came back like child's play.

The instant the first hologram appeared it was like your brain went on autopilot, they weren't real but your brain was screaming, survive, survive, survive. Each knife flew from your hand with lethal aim, your arms instinctively knew what to do, how to throw precisely as fast as possible. So you trusted your body when suddenly the simulation was over, you felt your head coming back to reality. It was terrifying, you'd felt like you were in a dizzy high and suddenly you were that same young girl terrified in the arena. Full of guilt and regret for the lives you'd taken.

“I thought your weapon of choice was a spear." A voice cut through your thoughts, bringing your thoughts back to the person you were now. Peeta, ever outgoing and charismatic just as he'd been depicted, with an untrusting looking Katniss not far behind.

“No, that's what was convenient at the end, but the spear was never mine, it was-"

“Conway’s." Katniss finished the name you hated saying, hated remembering for you. “You killed in the Bloodbath with knives and then the girl from District 2." She must have been rewatching everyone's games, learning their tactics.

“Ironic, weren't they the District 2 girl from last year's weapon of choice as well?" You asked, stepping off the platform.

“Yes." She was tense, stiff it radiated off of her, stagnating the air.

“When there's such limited options, it's hard to get much differentiation. You certainly helped mix the bag last year.” Not just with her little bow and arrow, you hoped she knew what you were really saying, but couldn't with the people watching from above. She probably didn't, she was like a guard dog who didn't know whether or not one could be warmed up too, but would always assume the worst.

“I'm glad that was entertaining." Her voice was bitter as if she had no idea that everyone here has gone through the exact same trauma and felt the same way.

“It certainly was for them." You glanced upwards, towards the head game maker and his cronies observing you all like lab rats. “Most of us were." The Morphlings certainly had to be the most boring show of all, to those who couldn't realize it was such a smart tactic to stay alive, even if it didn't make great daytime television.

“You should teach us how to throw sometime." Peeta inserted himself back into the conversation. "If you want, we could teach each other things. I could go over camouflage.” He offered with a smile.

“Yeah of course!" You smiled back. “When you blended into the rocks by that stream, it was truthfully unfathomable in talent to be able to do that."

“And Katniss can shoot, I'm sure you've seen, but she never misses." Katniss shot him a glare, "Just following Haymitch's orders.” Peeta shrugged before his eye was caught by Johanna finishing up with her ax training. “I should get a formal introduction." He was walking away when Katniss spoke again.

“Why'd you volunteer for that girl?" She asked, and you turned your head towards her.

“For Annie?" You felt like it was obvious, but Katniss just nodded. “I wasn't going to put her through this again, that wouldn't have been fair of me. I couldn't let any of them, I couldn't have lived with myself if I had, so I might as well die on that hill now." Your candor seemed to make her less stiff. “You know, she was the first tribute I mentored. Years after my games, I did everything I could to help her win, to prepare her, but I couldn't prepare her for what happened after. Seeing her after that it was like I failed." Annie would forever be known as the one who went "a little crazy.” Maybe that was a blessing though, maybe it saved her from a much worse fate. Katniss' eyes finally looked more soft, not off guard, but not blocked off from your words.

“Even though you know this time only one of you can come out?" Her eyes briefly flickered towards Finnick before landing back on you.

“I'm not expecting to be the one who makes it out and she wouldn't have either. It's worth it to save her, he'll be fine without me." The words were too raw, too much like being stripped naked, but you knew you needed her to trust you and being honest would probably be the most effective route. Of course she couldn't completely trust you if she'd watched your games, you didn't blame her for that, but you just needed a little of it. “It's not different from what you did for your sister, sometimes you just know when that person needs to be protected no matter what that means for you."

Katniss began walking over to where the spears were located, “Like Peeta said, if you show me how to use the spear and the knives, I can show you how to shoot the bow and what plants and berries you can trust." This was her way of some form of acceptance you realized and internally congratulated yourself.

“Sounds like a deal to me." You picked one of the heavy spears up, it was also just as you remembered. It brought back flashes of the boy who taught you how to use it, the boy you'd killed with it. You could tell what she was thinking as you held it, how you used Conway, used his emotions and then his own weapon. “You know, the funny thing is people act like he didn't know, but that’s really what made it so brilliant.” Katniss looked confused as you stepped into the platform, which confirmed it was you. "Looking back you realize how early on he had me figured out and was playing me right back, I really think that's what endeared us to each other in the first place. He was trying to beat me at my own game almost from the beginning and I didn't even realize.” You launched the spear into the first hologram before quickly grabbing the other as Katniss watched on, absorbing the seemingly impromptu rant. “I can't blame him, I don't blame him even if I'm the one who gets it all placed on my head, which I probably deserve." Another spear knocking the hologram figure apart. The final one ready to fly. “You just have to remember who the real enemy is."

𓈒⠀𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀𓇬⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃⠀𓈒

"You two already have an advantage being from District 4, plenty of opportunities to practice with what you would be good at using in lessons. So stick with whatever you were good at then to impress, but don't forget to learn other skills that could be life saving in the long run.” Finnick was breaking down the plan for the two of you as the walk for the first training session with the other tributes was about to ensue. Although it went unspoken you'd also been blessed with extra practice even from back when you were dating Finnick in the district, he was so anxious that he needed to ensure you knew how to protect yourself. That you polished your skills, which he was sure you could do.

"Show off your strengths, but don't forget you're not just impressing the gamemakers, but the approval of other tributes can be vital. Alliances are important.” Ondine added.

Finnick nodded in agreement, “Another advantage from District 4, is the availability of the Career pack of tributes. All of the best trained and prepared tributes, especially if you show off enough to impress Districts 1 & 2 you're both a shoe-in. I'd encourage that as the strongest choice."

“I don't think we should do that." Conway’s voice of disagreement made you stop in your tracks. What was wrong with him? What could possibly be going on in his head that possessed him to argue with your mentor, someone who'd won before? Finnick raised an eyebrow, in a look you could only describe as patronizing. “I'm just saying that also means they're the best prepared to stab us in the back when it comes down to it. If we ally with tributes from a less prominent district it could make it easier when it comes down to it, make it less vicious.” He was delusional, it would be vicious no matter what when there were just a few people left.

You looked at Ondine who’s eyes were closed as she shook her head, Finnick's arms were crossed as he looked at the two of you, and Conway looked expectantly right at you. Then it hit you, this was a test. In order to maintain his trust in the fantasy you'd been carefully creating you'd have to take his side, prove you weren't loyal to every thing Finnick muttered. Even if it was hypocritical it angered you, it felt hellishly unfair that he would put you in a predicament like that. Who cared about the relationship between you and Finnick when he was the mentor offering advice to save both of your lives?

Conway pointed at you, urging you for a response. “I mean, what do you think? I'm just babbling aloud, I'll drop it if you think it's stupid." Maybe you were just paranoid, no, this was definitely a loyalty test. To him your love would mean support, it would mean unwavering devotion. So you painfully forced a caring, understanding look in your eyes, for your muscles to relax, and a loving smile on your face.

“Of course we should keep our options open, I mean we're not even there yet, the Careers this year might not even be the best options. You're right, Conway, we should consider every path to help us." Of course the Careers would be prepared, he was going to get you killed if he kept pulling this. Reasoning that at least your actions were well calculated not blindly emotional scrutinization. It made you slightly resent him, but the answer seemed to satisfy him as he grinned at the other two before beginning to walk again.

The slight spring in his step was obvious to anyone paying close enough attention, it upset you. When you hoped Conway wasn't watching, you shot a look towards Finnick. It was quick, but you grimaced and hoped your eyes could express your annoyance. Although the bob of his head was equally quick you could see he understood and was feeling just as enraged as you felt if not more. How could Conway claim to care about you when he could threaten a potentially life saving alliance to try and prove a point about how much you felt for him over Finnick? Although Finnick still wore a charming smile you could feel him seething and it comforted you somehow to know that he would never, that he would always pick safety, your safety and that he wouldn't stand for Conway’s games either. Even if rationally it did make sense, you were messing with him which both you and Finnick knew, but there wasn't time to think on that when it was life and death.

𓈒⠀𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀𓇬⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃⠀𓈒

“You're brilliant, even if it pains me to admit that you beat me to it." Finnick shook his head, smiling wildly. Haymitch had informed you that so far Katniss would have liked you as an ally if it weren't for the package deal that included Finnick. A feat considering all the tributes that wanted to ally with her after her impressive show in the archery station. It had truly been amazing, how smoothly she used the weapon, and how accurate she was.

“Well, you're welcome." You pecked him on the lips, smiling. Sitting down on the bed and smoothing out your robe, Finnick soon followed.

“I love you so much." He mumbled as he crashed down onto the mattress.

“I love you too, Finnick." Your head lay down by his, quietly counting the freckles scattered across his face.

“Staring is rude." His eyes shone with his internal brightness that he couldn't hide from you.

“Isn't that a perk I should get being your wife and all?" He scooted closer, nose brushing against yours.

“I suppose. Don't know why you'd need to, there's no need to memorize when you're stuck with me forever now."

“Good." There was nothing you wanted more than to see his handsome face every day, from when you woke to when you slept and every moment in between.

His hot hands embraced your cold face, making you shiver and he smirked. It was so patronizing, how he knew that his skin to yours was like fire on ice so you had no choice but to melt, but you couldn't stop yourself from softening anyways. Before you could even try and conjure up words to try and call him out, his lips were on yours.

He wasn't aggressive, never, but his gentleness didn't take away from his control. Your lips chased him and suddenly you were beneath him, swept up in his plush lips. Hands searched for him before he pulled his face away. You couldn't stop yourself before you whined at the removal of his lips from yours, pouting at him.

He scoffed, looking down at you slightly condescending, “Really, angel?" You could feel your face heating up as his eyes gazed at you, his hand delicately tracing the hem of your robe. “We don't have to do this, if you don't want to, sweet girl. You have to communicate with me, I don't want to push you, if you even don't feel comfortable you need to tell me." It felt like too much in the moment when it seemed so blatantly obvious that you wanted him, craved him. But it also made you love him so much more.

For so long it had been difficult to even be touched. The Capitol had come in and dug their talons into you, your own intimacy didn't even belong to you. Play stupid games, win stupid prizes. You'd tried to push it down, he'd dealt with it for so much longer, since he was so much younger. Pushing it down didn't stop the roots of trauma from taking root deep within your soul though.

You felt guilty for not being able to give yourself in so many ways to Finnick who was unbelievably patient, of course he was, he understood, he cared. When you'd finally grazed your hand against his and let him grab it, the pureness of the touch was enough to make you burst into tears. That made it more difficult too though, your tears. A tactic that had once seemed wise in winning over the Capitol as a sweet, innocent girl had come back to bite you. Echoes of how pretty you were when you cried.

When you'd finally given that part of yourself to Finnick, of your own accord, the will that has usually been taken from you. He'd made sure you wouldn't regret it, he brought back the positives of intimacy which you'd forgotten about. You were so used to calling upon the tears as you zoned out, floated away. But not with Finnick, never with him. Where you both belonged to each other and were truly connected as one.

“Are you comfortable?" You asked softly. It felt selfish that he was so worried about you with what he'd been through as well, like it was too much about you.

Finnick sighed, “Don't do that." You looked at him quizzically, “Averting the question, you shouldn't be doing it to please me, I'll be okay. I wouldn't have gotten this far if I wasn't.” His hand stroked the side of your face which chased each movement. "Are you certain you want this? I'm not going to be upset if you say no, angel.” The way he loved you so deeply to be going step by step wasn't even grating anymore it just made your heart buzz even more.

"I do want this Finnick, I know what to say if it is too much.” The thumb grazing your neck was enough to make your eyes roll back, your entire body sensitive with the waiting.

Finnick nodded, slowly. Making sure you weren't just trying to appease him, "Color?”

You sighed dramatically, "Green.” He tugged your hair lightly, "Ow!”

"So impatient, trying to take good care of my girl and she's too desperate to appreciate it.” He shook his head, clicking his tongue in disapproval.

You pouted, “I'm sorry, Finnick. I'm just-" You gasped as his hand slipped in your rope, warm hand grazing the cold, hardness of your nipple. Legs rubbing together, his other hand, instantly sitting between them to hold them still.

“Speak up, angel. Just what?" That's what you appreciated so much, he was dominant, took care of you without the casual cruelty others often used. Of course he could be cruel in the best way, a type that still cared and knew what the line was and respected it.

“Need you, please. So, so bad." Your hands grabbed his shoulders, then the sides of his neck desperately trying to feel more of his warmth.

He hummed condescendingly, “You do?" His hand left your breast to the toe of the robe which he slowly unknotted. You nodded, brows furrowed as you tried to buck your hips. The hand prevented your legs from getting closer together, hitting your inner thigh but not in a forceful manner. “Come on sweet girl, can't you behave for me, won't you be my good girl?" His ocean eyes had you nodding along mindlessly. “Words."

“Yes, please, I just, please I need more."

“So needy." The knot on your robe untied, falling open to reveal you to the crisp air. His hand trailing down to where you needed him most, the feeling already sending shocks through your body. You wanted desperately to buck your hips up once again but resisted. He chucked, “Is this all for me? I haven't even really touched you yet." You nodded desperately, the teasing made you want to cry in desperation. Which was fine, but thinking about it scared you, the way they'd taken away two things that were so natural, so personal would distract you.

“Finnick." You said shakily and the time instantly made his face get serious.

“Are you okay? Do we need to stop?" You shook your head vigorously.

"No, just-” Your fingers fiddled with the blanket, embarrassed, "Can you just take some deep breaths with me?”

"Of course, my love.” He grabbed the hand nervously moving around the blankets to hold it to his heart. “You're okay, in and out with me, angel." You closed your eyes, breathing with him, his heart reverberating through you. “Let me know when you want to keep going or stop." He whispered.

“Finnick, I just want to cry, not in a bad way just it's been so, so ruined for me." Weaponized, sexualized.

He nodded, “You can cry if you want, I'll wipe them away from you." The idea made you want to cry at his sweetness alone.

“Okay." Your voice was shaky, “We can keep going, please." His fingers began moving again, right over your core. Palm slightly running against you and it took all of you to not rub with him. Fingers delicately circling your sensitive nub and you moaned out. The first tears falling which he diligently wiped away with his time and pressed a kiss to your cheek. “Is that good?" You nodded blissfully and he swatted at your bareness causing a yelp.

“Yes, thank you Finnick, so good."

“Good girl, such a fast learner." You whimpered, toes curling. “What do you need?"

“In me, please."

“What, my fingers?" He held one hand up, moving them in front of your face. The man was mocking you, he knew what you meant and he kept rubbing your clit, making it nearly impossible to keep verbalizing.

“No!" You stammered out desperately. He smirked and removed his fingers from your bundle of nerves, causing you to hit his arm in frustration before he was grinding his clothed member on you and your hands wrapped around his shoulder tightly. You nodded intently, “Yes please. Want you to be inside of me, want to be one Finnick, yours." It hit you that this was the consummation of your marriage which made your heart swell as well as your need.

“Can't deny you anything, sweet girl." He was such a liar, but right now he followed through. Your hands began pulling down the pants he wore, desperate to free him so he could be buried in your walls. He groaned as your hand grazed his tip, precum dotting it. You licked your lips and he smirked cockily, “Another time, angel."

"How do you want me?” You asked, you'd take him anyway he wanted just to be clenched around him.

"Just the way you are is perfect, wanna see you, beautiful.” He lined himself up with your soaked entrance, "Are you sure, you're ready? Don't need more preparation.” You shook your head vigorously, pushing yourself forward to feel the tip and he grunted.

“Don't need it, so wet, I can take you, promise."

"Only if you're sure.” You nodded again, pouting.

"Please!” You whined and with that he didn't hold back, pushing his full length in and you nearly screamed. Clenching your walls around him, fingernails digging into him.

“That feel good?"

“So, so, so good." You began sliding your hand down, but he caught it tutting in disapproval.

"I've got you, angel, just lay there like a good girl. Let me take care of you too, you're making me feel so good.” His expert fingers went straight back to your clit as he began pounding in and out of you.

“Oh God, Finnick!" Your eyebrows pulled together and eyes snapped shut as he filled you. It was like you were a perfect fit for each other.

“So perfect angel, just looking at you made me think I wasn't even gonna make it into you." Finnick groaned, he knew exactly what you liked, what pace to go. You'd been so used to faking it or them not caring at all, but with him he could get you there so fast, so hard, and could do it over and over so perfectly. His fingers rubbing into your bundle of nerves that had you biting into your bottom lip to stop you from waking the whole floor. Both actions made you want to scream in ecstacy. “Are you close already, angel? Do I really make you feel like that, so fast?” You nodded, dumbly making mindless noises as his hips thrusted in and out. “Me too. I don't know how you do it to me. Where do you want me, stomach, mouth, inside?" His groaning was making his own speech shaky.

“Inside please, need to feel it, Finnick."

“You sure?" He asked, biting down on his bottom lip as your moans from his skilled fingers working their magic as he kept moving inside of you made him even closer.

“Yes, yes, yes, need to be one, just you and me. Need it inside." He pinched the bundle of nerves lightly as he hit the spot inside of you that had you kicking your feet on sheets. “I'm gonna, oh I'm gonna-"

“I know, just wait a little bit longer, angel, I'm almost there. So close, be my good, good girl." You whined, nodding.

“Wanna be so good for you."

He nodded, the words bringing him even closer to the edge as he roughly thrusted into you. “You are, so good, just gotta hold back a little longer." You were sobbing, lost in the high as he wiped away the tears streaming down.

“Feels so good, Finnick, I can't please let me, need to."

“Wait." He said sternly, at this point he felt like he was denying himself too just to watch you squirm and listen to his every word. Grabbing your face softly so your eyes were trained on him, hand still rubbing fast circles on your clit. “Been such a good girl, don't ruin it." His hips started stuttering inside of you.

You shook your head, “I won't, I'm sorry. Wanna be good." He let go of your face with his free hand and pinched your nipple. “Finnick, please, I can't. Please don't be mean, I need you.”

"Making me feel so good, my love. Clenching around me, trying to hold back, you're such a good listener." He pinched your clit again, he was being mean, he couldn't deny it but the way you cried out and started trying to push away from him was bringing him straight to the edge. “Color?"

“Green." You choked out, “Please, Finnick, I can't." Your hands pushed against his chest.

"Then you know what to say, angel." He raised an eyebrow, “So you can." It would feel so much better, be so much harder for both of you the longer he kept this up. His lips attached to your breast and you tugged his hair, he moaned onto you and the vibrations had you desperately trying to fend off the orgasm approaching.

“Please, I need to. I know you are too." He thrust into that special spot in you again and your hands hit the sheets in frustration as your eyes fluttered.

“Be patient, don't be a brat." He pulled away from your breast to look at you. He pressed down on your clit and thrust into you again, “Oh god, gonna let go inside of you now, angel. Be all over your walls, gonna feel so good. Been such a good girl, you ready to let go of me."

“Yes, please!"

“You can let go, sweet girl." His lips pressed to yours to quiet both of you moans as you finally both let yourself go. You could've sworn the way his split inside you made your shaking even harder. It was so good, so worth it.

You were nearly breathless when you pulled away, “That was new."

“Are you okay?" He asked, eyes full of concern.

“Yeah, of course. I just, you're always incredible, I'm great.” You laughed breathlessly.

"Oh, good.” He let out the breath he didn't know he was holding.

“Thank you."

“You don't have to thank me, angel."

“Yes I do, they've taken so much of both of us and you just bring so much of it back to just being so real, so it doesn't feel like they own it anymore."

“That's just being a decent human, I just want to take care of you. Through all the ups and downs." He was so kind, it made you ecstatic that for as long as either of you were alive you'd always be one with each other, bonded through everything you loved. “Come on, we have another long day tomorrow, let's get cleaned up."

“What if we just didn't go, just laid here together, until it passed."

“I'd love to." His eyes were earnest and like pools you could drown in, “Nothing I want more than being with you forever. But they'd drag us out and we have things to do, my love.” He helped lift you up from where you lay comfortably. Your nose scrunched up." What?”

You pulled apart your thighs, "So sticky.”

He laughed before he could stop himself, "Well I'm not the one who asked for it.” That smug, loveable ass.

"Shut up, you loved it.” Softly shoving his arms as you went to stand.

He raised his arms in defense, "Guilty as charged."

He was so perfect, the way he was so effortlessly funny, so compassionate for all your needs even if you didn't verbalize them, how patient he was yet so stern and guiding. Much too good for what you could give him, you'd go to hell and back to do half as much as he did for you. Of course he always assured you of all you did to help him, but it felt so miniscule compared to what he did for you. The things you would sacrifice to help him, to be by his side were unmatched.

𓈒⠀𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀𓇬⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃⠀𓈒

thank you so much for reading!! I haven't written smut in so long and this really isn't a smut heavy series but I felt like exploring how what snow did to the victors who were deemed to be desirable would effect their intimacy and sometimes a little spice is needed to deal with all the angst I write. if you enjoyed it feedback is always appreciated, likes, comments, reblogs, anything and my ask box is already open if you have any questions or ideas! thank you all so much for reading 💋

taglist: @imaegonstargaryenswife0 @avoxrising @artsyaquarium @jennaaaaaaaaaaaa @secretsicanthideanymore @darlingsoulbeautfulthoughts @thatonegayloser616 @kybermp3 @meri-soni-meri-tamanna @ravensinthedaylight @innercreationflower @uhnanix @aesthetic0cherryblossom @yourdailymemedelivery

#finnick odair #finnick odair x reader #finnick odair x y/n #finnick odair angst #thg #finnick odair fluff #finnick odair x reader angst #finnick odair x reader fluff #finnick odair x you #finnick odair fanfic #finnick imagine #thg finnick #finnick x you #finnick x reader #finnick odair smut #finnick odair x reader smut

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seelestia · 1 year

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— 𝐁𝐎𝐘𝐅𝐈𝐄, 𝐂'𝐌𝐄𝐑𝐄!

SUMMARY. some headcanons about sumeru men as your boyfriend in the modern ages. (teyvat who? we only know earth.)

CHARACTERS. tighnari, cyno, alhaitham, kaveh, scaramouche/wanderer.

GENRE. fluff, crack, modern au.

CW. lowercase intended, use of pet names, written before kaveh and wanderer's release, scara is referred to as kunikuzushi.

THOUGHTS. this format is a bit different than my regular ones, but i hope this is still able to tickle a little laugh out of someone <3

✰ masterlist.

☆ TIGHNARI!

boyfie!tighnari whose unofficial job is to cook meals for the both of you; he actually doesn't mind, but what worries him the most is if you step into the kitchen — unless you manage to prove the existence of your culinary skills to him, that is. (#y/nramsay??)

"nari, i'm home!" you chirp, closing the front door behind you. the smell of something tasty wafts through the air and you peek into the kitchen like a curious kitten.

immediately, you are greeted by the sight of tighnari at the stove with your favorite apron on (yes, it has "kiss the cook" on it but tighnari would throw a ladle at you). it doesn't take long for him to notice your gaze lingering on him. tighnari doesn't even have to look back as he hums, "welcome home."

you lean against the wall with an impish grin on your face, "so... what's cookin', good lookin'?"

your boyfriend shoots you an unimpressed look, "...go take a shower, (y/n)."

boyfie!tighnari who combs your hair for you when you're half asleep in the morning. he takes care of his hair very well, so he might as well help you while he is at it. tighnari reasons that he does this because you look too sleepy to function normally… but maybe, he just likes admiring your sleepy face. (that trail of dry drool, though, not so much.)

"hey, hey, stay still," tighnari huffs an exasperated sigh when you start to lean forward in your sleepy state. he puts a hand on your forehead, stopping you from moving any further. "i can't brush your hair properly if you keep nodding off," he shakes his head.

you mumble, "so... tired..." his eyes soften slightly at the sound of your light-headed tone, "yes, i can see that. now, stay still."

boyfie!tighnari who tells you lots of unnecessary botany facts that you don't really ask for, but he looks cute nerding out, so you just listen without a clue.

"unnecessary? you might need these facts in the future," tighnari frowns, clearly taking offense when you throw his botany facts into the "unnecessary" category.

you snort, "yeah, for what?"

"for the possibility of me disowning you and leaving you to fend for yourself in the jungle one day," he says that so flatly that you almost do a double take.

he sounds like he's been planning that for years but he is just joking, obviously.

boyfie!tighnari who chides you when you get sick. no, he isn't mad, he is just very concerned... and disappointed. so, you get a nagging boyfriend with a mix of both.

"...are you mad at me?" you ask through sniffles and a runny nose. "no," tighnari replied as he places a neatly folded and soaked cloth on your forehead.

"you look mad," you point out with a pouty look. "no, i'm not," he responds with that dry tone again, trying to hush you by gently shoving a thermometer into your mouth.

"...i'm sorry," you mutter.

"if you are, then don't do that again. i thought i told you that—" and off into a ramble he goes. (in his defense, he cares for you so it only makes for him to worry... and nag like a mom.)

☆ CYNO!

boyfie!cyno who clings to you like a koala when you wake up. you're like a source of comforting warmth that he can't help but snuggle. who would've thought that a scary fellow like him can be seen literally melting into you?

"cyno, i can't move," you utter quietly. as much as you'd like for him to cling onto you longer, one has to rise and shine eventually.

"...sorry," your boyfriend mumbles into your back, slightly muffled but audible and coherent enough. great, now you feel bad for telling him that.

boyfie!cyno who leans against you when he plays a game on his console. or, have you sit close to him when he is playing a card game because you're his "lucky charm".

"are you sure you'd win if i stay here?" you lay your head on his shoulder, peering into the console he is playing in his hands.

cyno nods without tearing his eyes off the screen, "even if i lose, i still want you here, anyway."

(is he... flirting? does he even realize he is flirting? yeah, he probably doesn't and he's cute for that.)

boyfie!cyno who puts little candies in your pocket for you to munch on when you feel bored.

you can't help the sneaky grin that makes its way onto your lips as you ask, "are you giving me these so i'll think of you when i eat them?"

this catches cyno by surprise. he almost splutters into a fit of flustered coughs, but he manages to hold his composure. "well, i-if you want to," he says meekly.

well, sort of managed to, anyway.

boyfie!cyno who scowls back at anyone looking at you the wrong way. scary bodyguard privilege, maybe?

"cyno, what's wrong?"

you raise a confused eyebrow at the stern expression on your boyfriend's face. he is looking at something behind you, but that deadly glint shines in his eyes already speaks volumes.

his arm sneaks around your waist to pull you closer, "nothing. somebody was just staring at you."

is he possessive or just protective, who knows? perhaps, both.

☆ ALHAITHAM!

boyfie!alhaitham who sneaks glances at you from over his book when he is reading. he denies it, though.

"you really think you're sneaky, huh? i can see you looking at me from all the way over here," you laugh.

with how much time alhaitham has spent rolling his eyes, you would've thought he lost them by now. but your lover doesn't look ready to give up.

"are you sure you weren't just seeing things? i was too immersed in the book, if you haven't noticed," he responds to your daring statement (which contains the truth, actually).

you hum sarcastically, "sure, sure."

"think whatever you want," there he goes rolling his eyes, again — but he is fooling no one with that little smile on his lips.

boyfie!alhaitham who predicts the plotlines of every single movie when you two have a movie night.

"it's getting too quiet. i reckon it's probably time... and..."

you are quite literally spooked out of your mind, holding onto the pillow in your chest like it's a lifeline. but alhaitham can't seem to relate; with the way he leans back to take in the scene on the screen, he looks more bored than anything.

"—there goes the jumpscare. i saw this coming from twenty minutes ago."

you scrunch your nose in annoyance and throw him a light scowl, "can you, at least, pretend to be the least bit shocked?"

alhaitham scoffs before letting out the fakest noise of fear, if you've ever heard one. "...ahh. there, are you happy now?"

"this is why i hate you."

"what a roundabout way to say i love you, i appreciate it."

boyfie!alhaitham who acts irritated when you want to use his shoulder to sleep, but he lets you anyway, albeit he does so very grumpily. (indirect reference to a previous work i wrote!)

the weight of your head on his shoulder doesn't bother him that much, but he can't have you getting used to this. certainly not.

alhaitham sighs tiredly, "my shoulder isn't a pillow, you know?" you nod, yet you don't move an inch as you reply, "i know."

"i assume you also know that neck pillows exist? and for a very cheap price?"

"uh-huh."

he almost wants to push you off and throw a blanket over your head. not that it'll shut you up nor would he actually do that, but a man can dream about peace.

"well, if you know, then act like it."

"no, ignorance is bliss."

alhaitham hates that philosophy but he likes you; so, he doesn't really have much of a choice, does he?

"you little... ugh, fine."

boyfie!alhaitham who quizzes you on random facts. he doesn't expect you to get them all right, of course; let's just call it "sharing is caring" but with the concept of knowledge.

why are you even subjected to this? you've asked alhaitham this before, but he tells you every time that this is just his definition of 'fun'. (and that if you love him, you'll indulge. talk about affectionate blackmail.)

"...do i look like albert einstein to you?" you gape at him, crossing your arms against your chest in disbelief. how are you supposed to answer that isaac newton level question?

"if you do, then i wouldn't have asked," he smiles. a smile that you don't think you feel relief upon seeing, you can just sense that there is a hint of sadism somewhere in his expression.

"what do i get from this?" you are ready to whine your way out of his little game, but his answer to your question has your interest marginally piqued.

alhaitham affirms, "anything you want."

"...a kiss?"

"no."

that is alhaitham's way of saying yes; well, granted that you can somewhat answer the question, anyway.

"—and don't you even think about using google," he adds. darn it, looks like you're not gonna get that kiss.

☆ KAVEH!

boyfie!kaveh who just feels his chest fluttering, his stomach exploding butterflies, his legs weakening every time you call him "your boyfriend". (he is the biggest simp for you, naturally.)

"kav, you're so old-fashioned for liking that type of sappy stuff," you stifle a laugh behind your hand. kaveh feigns a dramatic gasp, "ah! old-fashioned? i am not." he speaks again, but with a sulky hint to his tone this time, "being called yours and calling you mine are not sappy, is it not the truth?"

okay, he looks proud for saying that.

"flatterer," you roll your eyes. but then, you grin wide as you add, "my flatterer."

and only by doing that, kaveh swears you just shot an arrow through his heart. oh my gosh, you're so unfair, but you're also so cute that he wants to kiss you and smother you and— ahem, moving on.

boyfie!kaveh who always tells you that you're his only last thread of sanity whenever he deals with alhaitham.

"can you believe it?! that was what he said to me, word for word, verbatim! that jerk, i'll hide his work phone where he can't ever find it."

"good luck on that. he is about the same height as you, babe."

"[y/n], my love, you were supposed to be on my side!"

(okay, maybe you just wanted to tease him a little but god, that pout on his lips is beautiful.)

boyfie!kaveh who immediately keels over the spot every time you wear his clothes. how you look so adorable, how you smell like him... his one weakness.

"oh. my. days."

standing in the kitchen and that is the first thing you heard. not even a "hello" or a "good morning, love". you turn around, the shirt you stole from your boyfriend's corner in the closet on your figure, with a hand on your hip.

you frown confusedly, "what? what happened?" why, did the toothpaste run out again? you are about to ask until you see kaveh pointing a finger at you like a madman.

"my clothes. you're wearing my clothes," he stammers dramatically. you tilt your head questioningly, "...yes, and?"

"what do you mean, and? c'mere—"

boyfie!kaveh who kisses your hand as a greeting, as a habit, and as a hobby. he denies it but he really is into that old-fashioned thingy, huh?

"that tickles," you giggle when kaveh's lips brush against your knuckles. "a fitting greeting for my beloved, of course," he plants another exaggerated kiss on the back of your hand.

"if you like my hand so much, you might as well put a ring on it, then."

"wha— wait, did you just— did you just beat me to it? are you proposing to me?!"

☆ KUNIKUZUSHI!

boyfie!kunikuzushi who always gets blushy-angry whenever you compliment him for literally anything.

you already know that your boyfriend is a man of many talents, if only he were willing to show them more often. this time, though; you somehow manage to persuade him into being the cook for tonight. don't ask how, you have your ways.

you bring a spoonful of food to your mouth, "mm, kuni, this actually tastes pretty good!"

you hear a gasp, an offended one.

"what do you mean, actually? of course, it'd taste good," he shoots you a glare, holding back an insulted snarl in the back of his throat.

"pfft, okay, okay. you should cook more, embrace your malewife side."

"my what— i will throw this plate at you."

yep, totally worth it.

boyfie!kunikuzushi who suffers because kids love flocking around him. he can't believe he is doing this, but he has no choice but to send you a desperate look that says "help".

this sight in front of you right now is far beyond priceless. seeing your grumpy lover being surrounded by enthusiastic children tugging on his sleeve is too good, too good.

you wonder what exactly attracted them to him? he isn't really someone who looks welcoming — but eitherway, you are enjoying this.

way more than you should, actually.

"d'aww, kuni, the kids love you!"

"...i wanna go home," he deadpans at you lifelessly while the children continue to jump around him.

boyfie!kunikuzushi who snorts when you accidentally hurt yourself but he still cares, at least. (he finds amusement in your clumsiness, one hundred percent.)

"so, i wasn't paying attention and walked into a glass door today—"

"pfft."

"...did you just laugh at my pain?"

"no. anyway, let me see the bruise. put some ice on it."

(at least, he cares.)

boyfie!kunikuzushi who grumbles every time you give him affection like an automated puppet (pun intended).

"ugh, stop doing that," kunikuzushi mumbles through gritted teeth; but not in a hostile way, he looks more... grouchy than anything. as per usual, of course.

you're merely holding his hand and giving it a gentle squeeze, he looks annoyed. but the funny thing is that he is barely resisting your affection at all.

you poke at him jokingly, "what? i'm just squeezing your hand. not like i was trying to squeeze the life out of you."

"it's annoying..." he scoffs before trailing off into a quieter voice, "do it again."

(is this what they call hypocrisy at its best?)

─ ⊹ ⊱ ・・・・・・☆・・・・・・・⊰ ⊹ ─

✰ TAGLIST: @meimeimeirin @hcikazu @tsuk4sa-yug1 @catcze @semi-orangeapple @yuuki4646 @d-a-r-k-s-w-a-n @dearmarri @omgscaramouche @coquettemaiden @lemontum — [ bolded names are unable to be tagged + register here to be a part of my taglist! ]

#genshin x reader #genshin x you #genshin modern au #genshin headcanons #genshin scenarios #genshin imagines #genshin fluff #genshin crack #tighnari x reader #tighnari x you #cyno x reader #cyno x you #alhaitham x reader #alhaitham x you #kaveh x reader #kaveh x you #scaramouche x reader #scaramouche x you #seelestial.inks

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galebrainrot2024 · 2 months

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Oh boy this one is a little salacious and indulgent. Anyway, we're back!

Summary: Inspired by the image below, gender neutral and unnamed Tav and Gale get a moment alone without their companions. Sexually explicit, denial, mutual masturbation, restraint, voyeurism, oral sex

Read on Ao3 | Master List | NSFW18+

Gale strides to the throne, running his fingers over the spines of the books, admiring the unique craftsmanship. “A bit self serving, if you ask me. Anyone who’s well read wouldn’t require such a gaudy display for their supposed knowledge.” You can’t help to roll your eyes in response and he gives a cheek grin. “Am I wrong?”

The rest of your companions returned to camp while you and Gale scourged the wizards tower, looting what you were able and taking the moment to yourselves. It wasn’t often you had time privately and away from the others. Now, here you were - isolated and contained together.

You watch as the sunlight whispers through the large paneled windows, kissing Gale’s skin and feel yourself spark to life, the tendrils of need licking up your spine. Your cheeks flush, tempted as you watch his fingers continue to run over the books, admiring their skill… you swallow hard.

As he drapes himself into the chair and leans back cooly, you feel gripped with the desire to please him, to get down on your knees in front of him and bring him to the zenith of pleasure. To worship him. He reads the lust on your face and slouches a bit cockily, raising a brow and flicks his wrist to conjures a mage hand in a flash of purple hue. He studies the hand for a moment before tossing a wicked grin your way, his pupils blown wide. When Gale speaks, his voice is low - “Are you alright, my love? Your cheeks are looking rather… flushed.” Gale rests an elbow on the arm of the chair and looks at you as if you were his prey, leaning back in the chair languidly and brushes his bottom lip with his thumb. His legs spread as if in invitation, the familiar mischievous glint evident in his gaze. You feel the tingle of your shared arousal course through your veins and your breath hitches. “It’s not often we find ourselves with such privacy. Might I suggest we take advantage of this gift of serendipitity?”

“What did you have in mind?” You breathe, though your body already seems to know the answer. The voracious urge consumes you, the need to entwine your limbs, the carnal ache for the delirium of bliss by his hands.

“Ah,” he chuckles darkly, raising a brow and leans forward. “Quite a few things, and none of them require this…” he gestures to your body, “extensive armor.” He clicks his tongue and the mage hand extends towards you, brushing through your hair. The movement sends a shudder down your spine. Your lips part as the fingers brush the hollow of your neck and skims your hems, begging to unlace and unbutton the fabric that stands between your naked form and Gale.

The erogenous heat fills your center and he watches you come undone, feeding off your desperation as the mage hand deliberately undresses you. The fingers work unhurried, the throbbing between your thighs growing with every light caress and brush. You shudder and try to shoo the hand away when it then grips your wrists together, Gale’s darker appetites seeping through. You gasp, surprised by the firm, sudden moment. He clicks his tongue again, “it’s unlike you to be uncooperative, my love…” the hand tightens around your wrist and he conjures another to begin to undo the rest. You feel your knees buckle and your lips part, wanting.

Whenever Gale was in this mood, you couldn’t resist pushing back against his hubris and the fixation with making you squirm. To deny you pleasure and inch you closer to the edge without quite giving into you. It is a game, and you will not be the first to yield. You feel your heart thrum wildly, this the first time you’ve been alone since the night in the astral plane. Your eyes drink Gale in, the way his robes cling to his form, highlighting the half formed arousal beneath the robes. It makes your mouth water, wanting to taste every inch of him. You again try to work against the hand and are met with resistance. Another manifests in front of you, tracing idle patterns between your thighs before it continues disrobing you. The air is cold against your bare skin as your armor falls away, leaving you standing stark in only your undergarments.

Gale rests back, his head tilted against the chair and you see him stir to life, his eyes frenzied with insatiable need. Gale licks his lips and a smirk dances at the corners of his mouth as he manipulates the hand with deft twists, and you stand dumbfounded - goosebumps rise across your body from the cold and your nipples stand alert. The hand brushes up your torso and up your chest, barely tracing your neck. You shudder and Gale leans forward hungrily. “Is something the matter?” His voice is thick with lust and he bites the tip of his finger as he uses the mage hand to caress your body. You feel the fire bloom within and your core pools with frenzied longing, squirming as the hand finds its way between your thighs. You hear yourself whimper and a plea falls from your lips. Gale leans forward more, his legs spread wide as he rests on his knees.

Your eyes lock on one another, profound craving and an almost punishing thrill of what was to come charging the air between you. Your underwear betray your sweet arousal and the hand barely brushes over your clothed sex. You inhale through your teeth, “Gale please…”

Gale leans back again, one of his hands snaking between his thighs to hold the evident bulge under his robes. “Please what?” He asks, his eyes flicking to the arousal between your thighs and you hear him groan. The wait is exquisite. “Use your words, darling.”

You try and as you do, the mage had around your wrists tightens and begins to push you forward and you oblige. Gale’s legs seem to spread wider as you approach and he leans back, beckoning you. As you approach, your body undulates with torturous need, the arousal between your thighs severe. He flashes his brows and flicks his gaze to the floor before him. You fall to your knees, and he leans forward, taking your chin in his hands and brings his lips to yours. The kiss is lecherous, his tongue forcibly parting your lips to roll over yours. You whimper and moan, squeezing your thighs together and another hand materializes. The hands spread your legs and work one thigh each, your hands still restrained by the first.

When Gale pulls out of the kiss you are both breathing deliriously, his black pupils revealing his craving for more. He stands in front of you and disrobes, the thick bulge in his briefs begging to be freed. Your body responds, lips parted and mouth watering. You lean forward and lick across where his briefs meet his lower torso. His hand holds the back of your head as you do this and a guttural moan escapes him.

Your carnivorous excitement takes over and you grip his briefs with your teeth, pulling them down his body. He laughs darkly, “Very good…” he purrs and you look up at him, eyes wide and eager. Gale sits back in the chair and you are entranced - he releases your wrists and the hands caress your lower body. With your hands freed they find their way to Gale’s thighs and you grip them tightly as your lips graze along in tandem. You can sense the hands massaging your butt, the source of your arousal as if to encourage you to please him.

His pulsating erection demands to be sated and you eye him, your tongue flicking higher and closer to the source of his pleasure. You hear him moan, his hand still lithely guiding your head between his thighs. The saliva in your mouth pools yet before you are able to take him, he pushes your head away. You whimper and feel the hands beginning to massage and pleasure you, your eyes flutter and you hear Gale sigh as he watches you.

Gale’s hand guides you forward now, succumbing to you and you meet him eagerly, your grip firm on the arms of the throne. Your lips wrap around the tip of his erection and saliva pools downward onto his shaft. He grunts and you roll your tongue over the sensitive tip and he squirms as you take him deeper into your mouth. Gale rewards you with a groan and thrust, the tip of his cock hitting the back of your throat deliciously. You suck as if famished, your voracious thirst for him fueling the skill of your mouth and tongue. The grip on the back of your head tightens and he begins to push harder into your mouth and you feel the hands between your thighs increase their tempo and firmness. You moan against his cock and the vibration makes him twitch, his body slick with sweat as you take him and indulge. You lick across his shaft and fondle the bridge between his ass and penis which causes him to writhe beautifully. You smirk and use your hand to grip the base of him, bringing your lips to meet your hand as you work him.

Gale comes undone, the grip in your hair sending you reeling and the hands torment you, bringing you closer and closer to bliss. Each time you feel yourself close to release, the hands pull back and you cry out desperately, your mouth full of Gale as he retreats. You suck harder, frantic, seeking the full flavor of Gale’s arousal. He is salty, warm in your wet mouth and his movements begin to grow more urgent, volatile. Your jaw aches and tears form at the corners of your eyes and your saliva covers his throbbing erection as he bucks into your mouth. You relax your throat, allowing him to plunge deeper into you and he moans louder, the sound anguishing music as he continues his retreat from your pleasure.

You pull back and you feel Gale’s hand resist and he groans, almost in frustration. He tries to press you back to him and you resist, you grip him tightly with your hand and you gaze up at him as you lick across his shaft. His lips fall open and his head tilts back. Suddenly, you feel a hand manipulate you aggressively, so close to allowing you release that you fold your entire mouth over Gale and he cries out in animalistic pleasure, plunging into your mouth as the hands work you. “Oh fuck…” he grips the back of your head almost too hard, his cock slipping deep into your throat and you moan as the warm, sticky cascade of his climax shoots into your mouth and you suck violently, tasting every part of his pleasure as he allows the hands to bring you to your own rapture while you taste the fruit of your labor.

He collapses into the chair and you onto his lap, resting your head on his thigh - both of your breathing is ragged and shallow, the calm settling between as your breath comes back to you. He brushes his fingers through your hair and across your cheeks and you look up at him. He is flushed and grins, almost sheepishly as you say: “You are full of surprises,” you murmur and kiss thigh before pulling yourself up to kiss him.

It is slow, tender, and you see him thrum to life again. You raise a brow and he shrugs before murmuring, “Well… we have time for a bit more, wouldn’t you agree?”

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capricorn-season · 11 months

Text

Homophobia in drag

When I was a young boy, I loved spending the night at my grandmother’s house. There, I could stay up as late as I wanted, and in the morning, there would always be Cinnamon Toast Crunch for breakfast. But the best part was raiding the closet in her basement, which was full of the gowns she had worn in the 1960s and 1970s – frilly pink and purple confections made of lace, chiffon and silk. I would put them on and watch The Golden Girls, sophisticatedly sipping Coke from a wine glass.

When I was nine, my dad bought a video camera, a giant monstrosity that my siblings and I struggled to balance on our shoulders while we filmed home videos. Alone, I’d prop the camera on the coffee table and record myself modelling various outfits, explaining to the camera why this plaid shirt went with these cargo shorts, or why this teal Starter jacket complemented these acid-washed jeans so perfectly. I captured on camera the dance I had painstakingly choreographed to Marky Mark and the Funky Bunch’s ‘Good Vibrations’.

As a kid, I followed my two older sisters around like a shadow, mimicking their mannerisms – the way they tucked loose strands of hair behind their ears when they were concentrating on their maths homework; the way they jutted their hips whenever they were talking to cute boys. Like them, I was a naturally athletic kid. My favourite sport was lacrosse, but I much preferred to play with the girls instead of the boys. The boys were quick to push and shove, and they loved to whack each other with their aluminium sticks. Girls relied more on their speed, their reflexes and the skills they’d honed to keep the ball securely cradled in the shallow mesh of their wooden sticks.

I grew up in a fundamentalist Christian community – most people would call it a cult. From kindergarten to the sixth grade, I attended the community’s tiny school. Because enrollment was so low, there was no in-crowd, no separate cliques of jocks and geeks. In retrospect, I’m sure my classmates and especially my teachers noticed my gender-nonconformity – all of my home videos prove that it was glaring – but it went largely ignored. All that mattered was that we were good Christians, that we loved Jesus and evangelised God’s Word to as many people as possible. When I learned about homosexuals in Bible class, or about AIDS (which we were told God had created to punish homosexuals for their sins), I didn’t think for a moment that I was one of them. Sure, my first real crush, when I was 11, had been on a boy – Elijah Wood, an actor about my age whose performance in the 1994 B-movie, North, had captured my heart. But at the time, before sexual maturity, I mistook the longing I felt for Elijah with the more sanitised desire to simply keep his company and be his best friend. I indiscriminately absorbed all of the lessons I learned about homosexuals, as if they were and would always be irrelevant to my life.

The summer after my sixth-grade year, my family left the community and we moved to a neighbouring town. I began seventh grade in a large public school, where there was definitely an in-crowd. My new classmates wasted little time informing me how unacceptable it was for a boy like me to behave the way I did – the way I enunciated my s-words, the way I brushed my auburn hair, which I had highlighted the previous summer with Sun-In. They called me a faggot, delivered me notes that said everyone knew my ‘dirty little secret’. They asked me frequently, ‘Are you a boy or a girl?’. Well, of course I was a boy, I would respond, trembling.

Meanwhile, I was beginning to sexually mature; I was soon developing crushes that inspired more than just a desire to keep a boy’s company. With horror, I realised that I might actually be what the kids were calling me – which, I knew in my bones, guaranteed me a tragically short life and a one-way ticket to hell. That, after all, was what the old form of homophobia entailed. Self-loathing.

To survive the onslaught, I defeminised myself. I lowered my voice, started wearing baggy jeans and sweatshirts, cut the highlights out of my hair, and replaced my Mariah Carey CDs with Nirvana. Soon, the fear and the anxiety became too much to bear, and the only refuge I found was in alcohol and drugs.

In high school, with each passing year, my drug use got worse. After graduation, I lasted one semester in college before dropping out. Two months later, at the age of 19, I had my first of several stays in a local psychiatric ward. I was delusional, addicted to drugs and suicidal.

It was during my second stay in the psychiatric ward that I was introduced to a 12-step programme, which was how I would eventually get sober in my early twenties. It was slow-going in the beginning of my sobriety to accept my homosexuality. I began to reconnect with the young boy I had once been, the boy whose interests expanded beyond what was typical for males. I experimented with bronzer and mascara, and got French manicures and pedicures.

Engaging in these behaviours felt liberating for a while, but eventually the novelty wore off. In fact, they started to feel performative. I realised I didn’t need those things to be my authentic self. My ideas, my voice, the way I treat other people – these are the things that make me the person I truly am.

In 2011, when I was 28, I fell in love with a man. The following year, I joined the fight for marriage equality. After we won that campaign, I knew I wanted to become a gay activist. I wanted to help create a world in which feminine boys and butch girls could exist peacefully in society. A world in which gender-nonconforming people were accepted as natural variations of their own sex. Minorities, sure, but real and valid nonetheless.

The trans question

In 2017, at the age of 33, I enrolled at Columbia University, New York to complete my undergraduate degree. There, I was shocked to discover how gay activism had evolved since marriage equality became the law of the land. The focus was now entirely on personal pronouns and on being ‘queer’. My classmates labelled me ‘cis’, short for cisgender. I didn’t even know what it meant. All I knew was that they called me ‘cis’ in the same cadence that the seventh graders had called me ‘fag’.

Soon, I learned about nonbinary identities, and that some people – many people – were literally arguing that sex, not gender, was a social construct. I met people who evangelised a denomination of transgenderism that I had never heard of, one that included people who had never been gender dysphoric and who had no desire to medically transition. I met straight people whose ‘trans / nonbinary’ identities seemed to be defined by their haircuts, outfits and inchoate politics. I met straight women with Grindr accounts, and listened to them complain about the ‘transphobic’ gay men who didn’t want to have sex with women.

All around me, it seemed, straight people were spontaneously identifying into my community and then policing our behaviours and customs. I began to think that this broadening of the ‘trans’ and ‘queer’ umbrella was giving a hell of a lot of people a free pass to express their homophobia.

At Columbia, I took classes on LGBT history, but much of that history was delivered through the lens of queer theory. Queer theorists appropriate French philosopher Michel Foucault’s ideas about the power of language in constructing reality. They argue that homosexuality didn’t exist prior to the late 19th century, when the word ‘homosexual’ first appeared in medical discourse. Queer theorists proselytise a liberation that supposedly results from challenging the concepts of empirical reality and ‘normativity’. But their converts instead often end up adrift in a sea of nihilism. Queer theory, which has become the predominant method of discussing and analysing gender and sexuality in universities, seemed to me to be more ideological than truthful.

In my classes on gender and sexuality in the Muslim world, however, I discovered something else, too. I learned about current medical practices in Iran, where gay sex is illegal and punishable by death, and where medical transition is subsidised by the state to ‘cure’ gays and lesbians who, the theocratic elite insists, are ‘normal’ people ‘trapped in the wrong bodies’. I privately drew parallels between the anti-gay laws and practices of Iran and what I saw developing in the West, but I convinced myself I was just being paranoid.

Then, I learned about what was happening to gender-nonconforming kids – that they were being prescribed off-label drugs to halt their natural development, so that they’d have time to decide if they were really transgender. If so, they would then be more successful at passing as the opposite sex in adulthood. Even worse, I learned that these practices were being touted by LGBT-rights organisations as ‘life-saving medical care’.

It felt like I was living in an episode of The Twilight Zone. How long were these kids supposed to remain on the blockers? And what happens in a few years, if they decide they’re not ‘truly trans’ after all, and all of their peers have surpassed them? Are they seriously supposed to commence puberty at 16 or 17 years of age? These questions rattled my brain for months, until I learned the actual statistics: nearly all children who are prescribed puberty blockers go on to receive cross-sex hormones. Blockers don’t give a kid time to think. They solidify him in a trans identity and sentence him to a lifetime of very expensive, experimental medicalisation.

I wondered how different these so-called trans kids were from the little boy I had been. Obviously, I grew up to be a gay man and not a transwoman. But how could gender clinicians tell the difference between a young boy expressing his homosexuality through gender nonconformity, and someone ‘born in the wrong body’? I decided to dig deeper into the real history of medical transition.

Medicalising homosexuality

What I learned validated all of my worst fears. I learned that for decades after their invention, synthetic ‘sex hormones’ were used by doctors and scientists who sought to ‘cure’ homosexuality, and by law enforcement to chemically castrate men convicted of committing homosexual acts.

I learned about actress and singer Christine Jorgensen, one of the first people in the US to become widely known for having ‘sex-reassignment’ surgery in the early 1950s. Jorgensen may now be celebrated by the modern ‘LGBTQIA+’ community as a trans icon, but he seemed more concerned with escaping his homosexuality, which he said was ‘deeply alien to my religious attitudes’. As Jorgensen put it, ‘I identified myself as female and consequently my interests in men were normal’.

I learned that of the first adolescents to be treated for gender dysphoria (or what was then called ‘gender identity disorder’) with puberty blockers and cross-sex hormones in the 1990s and early 2000s, the vast majority were homosexual. And I learned that these studies inform current ‘gender-affirming care’ practices.

Soon, I met detransitioned gay men who had sought an escape from internalised and external homophobia in a transgender identity. They continue to suffer severe post-surgical complications, years after their vaginoplasties.

I began to fear we had reached a point of no return a couple of years ago, during a conversation I had with a supposedly ‘progressive’ friend. I told her that, if I had been a young boy now, I likely would have been prescribed puberty blockers and gone on to medically transition. ‘And you don’t think you would’ve been happy as a transwoman?’, she asked me. Her question left me speechless. I couldn’t find the words to state the obvious: that I am a gay man, not a transwoman; that statistics tell me my medical transition may not have been successful; and that I would suffer severe medical complications. In any case, if I had transitioned, I wouldn’t be living an authentic life. After all, isn’t that what this is supposed to be about? Living authentically?

Sylvester, an androgynous disco icon of the 1970s and 1980s, was once asked what gay liberation meant to him. He answered, ‘I could be the queen that I really was without having a sex change or being on hormones’. Perhaps I belong in an earlier era, when newly liberated gays and lesbians rebelled against the medical and psychiatric experiments they had long been subjected to. Perhaps my early aspiration of expanding what it means to be a boy or a girl was nothing but a pipe dream. In Europe, there is hope that these medical experiments will cease, and that gay and lesbian adolescents will be spared from a lifetime of medicalisation. But in the US, nearly eight years after same-sex marriage became the law of the land, it is full-steam ahead with these homophobic practices.

For voicing my concerns about gender-affirming care for minors, I have been called a transphobic bigot. If that’s what speaking out against the medicalisation of homosexuality makes me, then so be it.

#gender critical #jk rowling #twitter #artículo

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sourcherryandsprinkles · 8 months

Note

i absolutely love the prompt you have "I'm pretty sure we almost broke up last night" cause major swiftie and I will only read that like she says it in stay stay stay so can you pretty please to conrad x reader with that prompt when you get the chance tysm take ur time

Silly little one I forgot I started writing a week ago

my taglists are here + you can send requests here at any time

—

The best relationship advice your mother ever gave to you was that you should never leave a fight unresolved or go to bed mad at each other. You and Conrad had been pretty good at doing that…until last night.

To be fair, the whole situation had everyone on edge.

After his exam, you and Conrad emptied his dorm and hit the road. He had slept less than five hours last night so you kindly offered to drive while he caught up on sleep. Everything was going well, until you accidentally took a wrong turn and ended up in a totally different place. You tried to get back on the right road, but panicked when you couldn’t figure a way…then Conrad woke up, grumpy and still tired, and started criticizing your driving skills.

To add to the situation, rain and thunder decided to join you. A little rain and thunder didn’t scare Conrad, but they decided to close the highway, forcing the two of you to stay at a motel for the night.

You showered and changed out of your wet clothes, while Conrad did his own thing. When you came out, he was there, in his pajamas, taking out extra blankets from the closet and setting them on the floor.

Getting what he was doing, you stopped him. ‘’You’re not sleeping on the floor. Don’t be ridiculous.’’

You had a fight, but you weren’t that mad at him. He just struck a nerve.

Conrad's tired eyes met yours, but he didn’t say anything as he moved his pillow to the bed. He drew back the covers and laid down, his back turned to you.

A knot formed in your stomach, hurt, and you turned off the lamp, plunging the room in the dark without exchanges of ‘goodnight’s. Rare were the occasions where you and Conrad were sharing a bed and alone, but instead of taking advantage of it, you were caught in an uncomfortable silence where neither of you found sleep.

You tried to close your eyes, but couldn’t. So you listened to the loud rumbles of thunder and the tapping of the rain until your eyes couldn’t stay open.

Just as you were about to fall asleep, Conrad spoke.

‘’What I said earlier, I didn’t mean it,’’ he said in the quiet of the room, knowing you weren’t asleep either. ‘’I’m sorry. You’re not the worse driver I know.’’

A tired smile twisted on your lips...and you felt yourself drifting to sleep.

When you woke up, the morning light seeped through the curtains, casting a soft glow over the motel room. The rain from last night had finally subsided, meaning you’ll be able to get back on the road and go home.

Beside you, Conrad was still sleeping. You watched him for a moment, the gentle rise and fall of his chest, the way his dark hair fell over his forehead. It might sound dumb, but you missed him.

You heard a muffled groan, getting excited as Conrad slowly stirred. His eyes blinked open, struggling to adjust to the daylight coming from the window, and you chuckled. You didn’t think of drawing the curtains all the way last night.

‘’Morning,’’ you greeted with a soft smile, brushing hair from his face.

"I'm pretty sure we almost broke up last night," he said, his voice a little deeper from sleep.

You rolled your eyes. ‘’You’re exaggerating.’’

Conrad sighed, looking up at the stucco ceiling. ‘’We had this big fight over something so stupid—’’

‘’Real relationships are not perfect, Con. Even the ones who seem perfect aren’t. They fight with their partners and that’s totally normal. We’re not gonna break up because I didn’t pay enough attention and took a wrong turn. That’s ridiculous.’’

There was a silent pause, then Conrad laughed.

—

All and more taglist: @spiokybirdstarfish @kenqki @liidiaaag @hawkegfs @gillybear17 @areaderinlove @acornacreacure @black-rose-29 @fudge13 @cece05 @rosie-cameron @Caxddce @laylasbunbunny @gemofthenight @beautyb1ade @hi-bored-as-fcuk-rn @lovelyy-moonlight @mellabella101 @vxnity713 @marzipaanz @bisexualgirlsblog @queenofslytherin889 @thatbxtchesblog @softb-tterfly @ethanlandrycanbreakmyheart @xyzstar @graceberman3 @Heartsforneteyamsully @aerangi @hallecarey1 @bxbyyyjocelyn @mikeyspinkcup

TSITP taglist: @msmarvelknight @maritaleane @dingus0401 @idontknowwhatimdoing777 @nomorespahgetti @lomlolivia @5sosbands @bloodyhw @depthsofdespairr @a-band-aid-for-your-heart @gilbertscurls @brandirouse86 @leilani-nichole @Veescorneroftheworld @papayaboyluvr @bchindureyes @bellysbeach @slytherinambitious @darylscvmdumpster @johannelis2302nely @aqshua @foockingasshole @straberryshortcake143 @luiise

#conrad fisher #conrad fisher imagine #conrad fisher x reader #conrad fisher x you #conrad fisher fanfic #tsitp #the summer i turned pretty imagine #the summer i turned pretty

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risuola · 6 months

Text

DO YOU WANT MY FINGERS? — F. READER x GOJO SATORU, who cannot stop twirling the god damn pen

You really needed to rest. You just wanted to sleep the day off, forget about the series of misfortunes and turn off your mind, but Satoru, your classmate just had to practise his pen spinning abilities.

cw: smut, Satoru and reader are students, fingering, Gojo is a menace, as usual, teasing, fingering, reader discretion is advised — 1,9k words

Can he stop?, you wondered, your mind racing like a sports car with the accelerator pushed to the floor, successfully rendering all of your efforts to relax fruitless. So many little things went wrong that day, so many failures that in themselves weren’t even that significant, but once accumulated, they created a tension in your body that you wished you could just sleep off. You hoped for the night to wipe away the concoction of not one, but two missed busses and a long run in the heat of the summer, the curse that was meant to be at most second grade but turned out to be first and exploding in purple goo, the fact that the room that ideally would have two beds, has just one and your infuriating colleague, now bedmate.

Gojo Satoru.

You had no idea what was his point in twirling that goddamn pen in between his fingers. Maybe he wanted to change his career path into becoming a circus artist or maybe he just wanted to annoy you to death – in both he had high chances to succeed. He clearly wanted to make you explode. That for sure was it, because the pen time after time fell from his hands, hitting the wooden floor. You lost count after the twenty sixth failed attempt of whatever the hell he was trying to accomplish, other than driving you completely insane.

Driven by the desire to break his neck, you flipped in the bed and took a quick glance of his form, fully ready and prepared to scold him, but then, your eyes landed on his hand and the voice got caught up inside your throat. Satoru has pretty hands, you always knew that, but somehow never paid them enough attention to notice how incredibly long his fingers are. You found yourself hypnotized by the way his lengthy digits worked all over the pen, twirling and twisting it between them. Skillfully bending and sliding against one another, using all of their slender length to make the movements effective.

Suddenly, you found yourself curious; your mind drifting into forbidden territories of rated thoughts, that you couldn’t, or maybe didn’t want to, push away. As you watched, hypnotized, how Satoru’s fingers were working their way around the pen, you wished to know if he’d be just as skilled using them in other ways? Would he be able to softly pour his magic onto your body, working them through your skin instead of the plastic? And how would they feel inside of you? For sure he’d reach into places you couldn’t yourself, for sure he’d-

“Y/n, my eyes are up here,” his voice snapped you out of your trance. “God, what got you so invested?”

“Nothing,” you muttered, exhaling deeply to ground yourself. “You’re annoying me with this pen, can you stop?”

“I’m trying to destress myself. I have to have my hands occupied- wait, were you looking at my hands?”

“No, Gojo.”

“Are you attracted to my hands?”

“How did you get annoyed and attracted mixed up, huh?”

“Don’t be shy now,” his face brightened with mischief as he grinned, wiggling his digits in the air. “Do you want my fingers?”

“God forbid you lay those on me,” you scoffed, trying to brush him off as you made an attempt to turn away from him, but he quickly rendered it fruitless by grabbing you by the wrist and pinning you down.

“Woops, I guess I just did,” he chuckled; one of his legs between your thighs as his body hovered above yours, making you wonder what the hell was happening. “Might as well go a little further.”

“I will knee you in the nuts if you don’t back off,” you threatened, but once again his chest, and whole body, shook with laughter.

“You can’t do that. Infinity, baby.”

Gojo and his goddamn infinity. A short tsk escaped your mouth, before he placed two of his fingers over them, brushing them ever-so-lightly along your upper lip, then lower and down the chin, painting a little s pattern with his, surprisingly soft, fingertips. His own lips never faltered from the menacing smirk, as his eyes focused on where he was outlining your features.

“So, tell me, where do you want them?” His voice now an octave lower went straight between your legs, you could feel yourself throbbing at the very thought of what he could do to you just by touching. “Here?” He peeled down your bottom lip just slightly, creating an opening for him to slip a fingertip into your mouth. “Nuh-ugh, don’t be mean,” he purred when you made an attempt to bite his digits off – the last signs of your dignity talking, before your body surrendered. “I assume it’s not here. So maybe… here?” With his finger now brushing just slightly over the swell of your breast, teasing the embarrassingly hardened nipple through the thin fabric of your sleeping shirt.

“Gojo-“ you tried to put some warning into your words, but he cut you off quickly.

“I’m not holding you, sweet thing. You have more than enough strength to push me away, we both know this.” He was right, and you hated it. Yes, he was above you, his thigh resting between yours, but other than that, he wasn’t exactly keeping you captive in his grip, because there was no grip whatsoever. Sending mental profanities at your own direction, you failed to notice his hand shifting downwards and you only realized it when your body jolted at the sudden pressure applied over your clothed clit. “Oh, it’s here where you want them, huh?”

To admit was way above your current state of self-respect, so you said nothing, trying to join your legs back together, to hide the wet patch that soaked through the soft, light-blue cotton, but to no avail. The more he stroked his fingers along the outlines of your folds, pressing little circles of tease into the swollen bud, the less control and clarity of mind you had.

“Use your words, will you?”

“G-gojo, please-“, you nearly whined.

“Yeah? Tell me, is that where you want my fingers?”

“Y-yes,” that was the most humiliating thing you’ve ever said, and you were certain that the consequences of it will haunt you for as long as you live, because Satoru was surely never gonna let you live that down, but at this particular moment, you couldn’t care less. You’ll be embarrassed later, now you needed to feel those sinful digits inside.

“Good girl,” he praised, pressing a soft kiss to the side of your jaw. Satoru was full of content, watching you lose your composure piece by piece right before his eyes, and he tried to take mental picture of every stage you went through since he began his teasing torture. From the soft frown that made your brows crease in the middle and your pretty eyes narrowed, sending death stares; through denial – the looks pointed away from him, the delicate tension of every muscle and clenched teeth and the current one – the most adorable flush that spilled over your cheeks and nose, the slightly nervous chew on your lower lip and those same eyes now lost, confused and yet, full of want. What he’s used to see in you was your every day calm, perfect composure and lighthearted approach to life and now, as all of those began to break, taking down the façade of carelessness, Gojo felt the swell of his confidence and ego. And the twitch in his pants.

“There you go,” he nearly whispered, slipping effortlessly into your underwear and the sudden contact of his skin against your aching, throbbing clit made your entire body shiver with anticipation. Satoru shifted his body to your side, placing his own down to be more comfortable, now sure that you won’t push him away. “You’re so wet. So wet and it’s only because of my fingers?”

“S-satoru…”

The grasp you took around his forearm could probably break a bone, but Gojo felt nothing, too consumed by the sweet whimpers that were escaping your lips as he was stroking the letters of his name right into your clit, time after time making your thighs tremble with pleasure. You were so incredibly wet, so worked up that it surprised even you how easily he made you unfold.

You could feel his hot breath fanning over the sensitive skin of your neck, where he was nipping at slowly, murmuring soft praises interlaced with the filthiest of things that could sound so sexy only slipping over Satoru Gojo’s tongue. His skillful fingertips brushed a little lower, gathering your slick and teasing your entrance painfully. You felt yourself clenching around nothing, needy for what his hands have to offer and he was quick to provide. One of his long fingers slipped into you with ease, entering your warm walls and pushing a breathy whimper from your throat. Satoru reached so far, way further than you could ever even try to reach. And then the subtle burn from the stretch came, when the second finger followed; the heel of his palm pressed tightly to your clit. With the way he moved in and out, pushing and pulling at your nerves, curling his digits inside of you and pressing every oversensitive button along his way – all of it was driving you insane.

The stars were overflowing your vision, the glittering particles of pleasure dancing right in front of your eyes and you couldn’t even care about keeping yourself from breathing out his name. The heat searing at your core spread throughout your entire body, setting it alight with its sparks. You felt like a volcano was erupting inside of you, the hot lava now flowing through your veins instead of blood, pumped sharply with the deft movements of Satoru’s fingers.

A surge of pleasure electrocuted your system, seething tendrils of blissful lust followed every push and pull of his digits. Your thighs began to tremble, your walls were contracting rapidly, clenching around him. Your breath got caught inside your lungs and those stars before your eyes began dancing around, blinding you with white.

“Think you can take the third one?”, Gojo asked, his mouth right next to your ear before he bit onto the petal of it. He challenged you with the question but wasn’t expecting the answer for it. Something incoherent slipped through your lips, following with a moan when he added another dose of stretch to your throbbing pussy, filling you to the impossible levels with the third fingers that still, slipped in with ease. He was almost too much, it sent you overboard with the excitement that got you spiraling into the bliss, head first, full speed. Your entire body tensed, your hand clenched around his forearm, but he didn’t falter from the torturous pace he’s set. Orgasm began overtaking your body in waves of ecstasy that was rushing through you every time he moved.

Your entire form shook underneath his touch, your mind was a blurred out, hazy mess and you were getting lost, drowning in the waves of climax and as he curled his fingers once more, pressing the most sensitive spot inside your velvety walls with all of his might, the knot in your stomach snapped. His name began escaping your mouth unknowingly, breathlessly repeated like a prayer, feeding into his ego as you came all over his hand. The orgasm came with the intensity that shot you straight onto the cloud nine, overwhelming you completely. Your eyes closed shut, your breath was racing just as the heart in your chest.

Gojo slowed down, leading you through the high and eventually, he pulled his hand out.

“Ah, what a mess you made,” he teased, smearing the milky white residues between his soaked fingers. You could barely hear him, but you didn’t need to, to know that he’s gonna tease you for that forever.

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