#i really was like for the last prompt i will not Shut Up lmao

[k2ntoss]

i feel like I've been MIA for too long lmao but hooo boyyy i have so many thoughts now because of that prompt list omg 🫠 i NEED -Fucking someone so good that they struggle to kiss you back.- and “Spread your legs baby, that’s it…Wider.” with Jason immediately please Mara, the brain rot demands it 😭

-🦊

JUST LOOK AT THIS, MY FAVORITE ANON !!! (as if it wasn't clear before) have i told you already how i love the way your mind brings the brain rot to work??? well, i do. let's get at it, babe

fucking someone so good they struggle to kiss you back + "spread your legs baby, that's it... wider"

movie nights are for two things, actually watching your movie selection while cuddling with your partner or to completely ignore whatever was playing on the screen while your partner fucked the life out of you. you go guess what was jason's plan for tonight's movie plan.

you're actually trying to focus on the movie, your eyes fixed on the screen as you lay on jason's chest and he holds you softly, his chin resting on your shoulder as he leans in to leave a soft peck on your skin. it's innocent and sweet at first but then one of his hands slides under your shirt, caressing your skin and drawing abstract lines on your stomach that made your attention drift away when he pressed a kiss on your jaw.

"jay... are you even watching the mo–" you were speaking, trying to scold him but your words caught on your throat when his hand moved further up and cupped one of your breasts at the same time he licked your neck.

"i'm not watching the movie, baby" he whispers against your skin, his lips gracing your neck right before he kisses that spot behind your ear "i want to get touchy with my pretty girl."

"oh, so you want to get touchy?" you ask, there's now a hint of amusement and mischief on your voice as you turn your face to look at him and jason can't help but chuckle and nod, like a kid that's been caught red handed doing something he wasn't supposed to "and who said i wanted to let you, jaybird?" you ask but deep down you knew you would let jason get his way with you anytime he wanted to.

"you... you're not doing a thing to stop me from touching you like this" he says, his voice is low and his hands are now both on your chest, he squeezes your tits firmly before lifting your bra "it is because you know you're all mine to enjoy or because you want me to actually feel you up completely?"

the way he speaks and touches you manage to drag a soft moan out of your lips and it makes him feel powerful because he knows how to make you melt. that's what he wants, jason wants to be the one to always make you feel good, he wants the reason you smile and moan, the only one to know every corner of your body so he could give back all the good things you gave him.

jason really enjoys the way it's so easy for him to shut your mind off with the smallest touch when mixed with the right words, he loves whispering into your ear and kissing your neck just to see how needy you can get from it but it was just the effect jason's touch had on you and he couldn't deny you could do the same to him. so now when he gets your shirt lifted and squeezes your breast while kissing your neck he has to hold back a moan when you move and push him to be able and sit on his lap.

"sometimes you should try to pay attention to a movie, you know?" you ask teasingly, leaning in to kiss him again and jason misses no time to let his hands snake under your shirt again just to feel those goosebumps on your skin. it's unthinkable to try and stop to resume your initial plans because your boyfriend is now sucking a subtle trail of small marks on your neck while he starts pulling your shirt off and when he is done your bra stands no chance against him.

"the movie can wait, we can watch it after i make you scream and beg for more..." jason whispers into your ear and he smirks when you tug at the neck of his hoodie, he knows he won and he takes it off and that's when the last strand of control you had vanishes at the sight of his toned body, the faint scars scattered over his skin around that one on his chest that ran all the way down to his stomach it only made him way more appealing.

he really loves the effect he has on you, it makes him feel like he really deserves the way you look at him and how you touch him as if he was your most valuable treasure and he was, his touch equals yours; needy but still lingering enough to make sure you know how he values the fact that you are with him, his grip firm but loving as he holds your hips to make you grind against him once he takes off those comfy sweatpants you wore to bed and that he loved because of how the hugged your figure.

clothes do not last on your bodies and it isn't so much until your body is completely pressed against his while he makes you put your hips up, jason lets his hand wander between your thighs until he has two fingers sneaking over your folds, flicking your clit as he smiles smugly at you.

"do you still want to watch the movie, ma?" he asks, voice now deeper while his finger traces a trail between your folds, teasing your aching pussy before he slips his digits into your entrance. jason looks at you, the hunger in his eyes only adds to your arousal as you grind your hips against his palm, the calloused skin brushing against your swollen clit.

you grunt something that sounds like a shut up and a please mixed up in a hushed moan, as your boyfriend keeps pumping his fingers in and out of you while he kisses and bites your neck, the smirk on his lips doesn't leaves when you struggle to beg him from how much he teases because his free arm is around your back and his hand is now groping your breast.

"already so desperate? i just started, sweetie" he coos you mockingly as he slowly lays you down under him, lips trailing down your neck until he is now kissing and biting on your nipple "just look at the pretty mess you are, all wet around my fingers and you could just cum like this... should i let you get off like this?"

"god, jason– don't do that, i need you" you moan breathlessly and for some reason his words only get you more needy, making jason feel a huge ego boost as he gives you that pretty shit eating grin before he switches to your other breast, sucking and teasing you more as his fingers leave your pussy, entrance now clenching around nothing.

there's a feeling of relief once you can see jason moving to be between your legs as he trails his kisses to your tummy, lovingly and devoted and his hands squeeze your legs softly to try and help your body to calm a little to no overstimulate you just yet.

"spread your legs baby," he says softly, his lips brushing against your skin and the sweetness on his touch and words makes you comply without thinking twice, your legs spreading almost on its own for him "that's it... wider" he says now smugly, seeing the way you open up just at his presence makes him feel so powerful.

he holds onto the back of your knees, pushing your legs until he makes them rest over his shoulder. his hand guides his hard dick until his tip is lined up with your pussy and he pushes in, slowly as a low growl escapes his throat, holding onto your hips to give a first stroke.

"so fucking thight and i had already stretched your pretty cunt before" he says, his body still until you nod for him to start moving and he doesn't hesitates to start with a quick pace "that's such a pretty toy i got myself, didn't i? i just have to touch you and you'll let me have my way with you..."

he makes it sound so good you can't help but moan, one of your hands reaching for his neck to pull him from his nape; fingers tangling on his hair as you bring his face close to yours and jason only makes his thrusts faster, hiting all the right spots as he holds you bent like this.

"jay– jay please" you whine as you try to really bring his lips to yours, it amuses him and you hear it on his rumbling chuckle, his hands gripping your hips in a way you knew your skin would be painted in finger-print-bruises by tomorrow but you just loved that, silky skin painted with his hickeys and bite marks, a sing of that ownership he had over you.

"use your words, princess," he whispers into your ear, the sound of the dominance on his voice making you moan loudly when his hands also squeeze your ass playfully "you're a big girl, you can use that pretty mouth of yours can't you?"

"please, kiss me jay" you beg, voice shaky as he pounds into you and the way jason is closer now on top of your body, his shoulders still holding your legs up just making the angle perfect for his tip to kiss your cervix.

jason does as you ask, leaning in a pressing a bruissing kiss on your lips and he seems pretty resolved to devour your mouth like that but instead he's met with you really struggling to kiss him back and he is lost in this discovering. it encourages him to move your body as if you were a pretty doll for him to use, placing your legs against your chest but this time only over one of his shoulders.

"feels like too much, pretty doll?" he asks, whispering into your ear almost in a growl and he changes his pace, slowing down to give you deep and slow strokes but still slamming his hips against yours.

"too good, jay... feels just so good" your voice slurred as you cry for him to move a bit faster but jason has just found out how to play with you a little more.

"yeah? you sound way too pretty for me to change the pace, crying like a desperate slut" the use of names sends a shiver down your spine, jason knows what buttons to push in order to get your pleasure to skyrocket and he is really proud of it as he keeps pumping into you, hissing in pleasure when he feels your walls clenching around him "god this feels so fucking good, i could cum into you so deep baby, you'll feel me right here"

one of his hands wanders from your hips to your belly and the thought of him reaching so deep inside of your body is enough to make your body tense, there's something new to all of this because you've felt way more sensitive than before and jason is feeling way too eager to find out how much he can do with that.

"jason please, fill me up like this" you say in between shaky moans, legs trembling already and the way you look at him through those teary cute doe eyes makes him throb into you.

"want me to breed you, baby? i want to see you dripping full of me" he says, his pace fastening again but it grows sloppier as his hand moves from your belly to one of your tits, squeezing it and toying with your nipple "you look so pretty like this, angel, so ready for me to use your body over and over again"

it's amazing the way jason manages to shut your brain off, making your words catch on your throat and turning you into a whimpering mess. rocking your hips to meet his movements until your orgasm hits you, pussy squeezing him like a vice, almost making it impossible for jason to keep thrusting inside of you.

the pleasure of your body washes over him, bringing his own climax to his as he releases into your throbbing pussy as he slows down, letting out a low stream of curses before he comes to a halt still holding your legs against his chest.

"i don't think we'll be watching that movie now, ma..."

#⭒ 📬 ⭒ #🦊 anon #jason todd smut #jason todd fanfiction #jason todd songfic #jason todd imagine #jason todd fluff #jason todd x reader #jason todd x you #jason todd x y/n #jason todd x fem!reader #jason todd blurb #red hood imagine #red hood x reader #red hood smut #red hood fanfiction #red hood x fem!reader #red hood x you #red hood x y/n #red hood blurb #red hood fluff #jason todd #red hood #dc comics #dc comics reader insert #dc comics imagine #reader insert

[angelltheninth]

Lesson Learned

Pairing: Professor!Viktor x Fem!Reader

Tags: nsfw, smut, classroom sex, orgasm control, desk sex, almost getting caught, dirty talk, secret relationship, co-workers, teasing, fingering, sexy lingerie

Word count: 1.6k

A/N: Part of my 15k follower event! The prompt for this one was 'Viktor + Professor AU', which had my brain going ever since I saw it. It makes sense in canon too, I think he would have made a great professor. I don't know how this got lost in my drafts for so long cause it's been done for a loooong time lmao, my bad everyone!

Many people argued that Viktor worked too much, he would argue that he didn't work hard enough. He's seen many brilliant minds get let down by the Academy, his friend Jayce once among them. Which is why he decided to become a professor, to nurture and encourage new people of any background not to give up. He very well loved amongst his students because of this.

"You're certainly popular." You looked over all the letters and flowers on his desk. "I think you got more of this than any professor today."

"Sounds like someone's jealous of me." Viktor moved the papers off his desk after looking over dozens maybe over a hundred letters today. "Is it me or the students you're jealous of?" He smirked when he saw how you were looking at the flowers.

You plucked one from the bouquet and threw it in his general direction. He heaved forward and caught it just before it hit the ground. You thought he was gonna put it back but instead he offered it forward.

"For you." You rolled your eyes at his gesture but you did accept it. He was sweet even when he was tired. "Am I the last one here?"

"No there's a few more professors tonight. Since it's exam season everyone's been working double time. Or I guess normal time for you." It was written all over his face, the tired smiles, the way too many cups of coffee he drank, the half-eaten lunches that he would only finish when the work day was over. "Do you still have papers to grade? I'll help you out."

"There's only a few more. Shouldn't take more than an hour so I can finish that tomorrow." Viktor walked over to the classroom door and shut the blinds before turning the lock. The clock sent a shiver down your spine and a pleasant throbbing in your lower belly. "I've been meaning to ask you, what's the real reason you came here tonight?"

"What do you mean? To see you." Viktor didn't buy that excuse. He walked behind you, his cane thumping a little harder on the floor then moments before.

He placed the flowers and his suitcase with the letters and the exams beside the desk and patted his hand on the now empty surface. You started to turn around so you could take a seat but he tapped the desk with his cane in warning, a series of quick taps that made your body respond and your cheeks flush. "How?" You asked with a shaky breath.

"Bend over first. I want to see what you have on for me." Oh. Well then he's not gonna be disappointed at all. You felt his slim fingers rubbing your thigh up and down, pulling your dress up over your hips and then tracing the dark red edge of your panties. "This all for stress release? You really do go above and beyond for me. And you had this on all day?"

"Not all day. I changed when my classes ended." You're bold but not bold enough to wear crochless underwear all day.

"You wanted me to have ease of access, how nice of you." His fingers plunged into your pussy, "No resistance? Darling, you were horny long before you stepped foot in here weren't you?"

You clenched your cunt around his fingers when you felt them all the way inside you. Viktor moved them quickly, way quicker then he could move his hips, way harder too, giving you the hard fucking he knew you craved with your whole being. Otherwise you wouldn't have worn this sexy little thing. "I was just thinking about you. This is how wet you make me. It's a real problem don't you think?" Viktor hummed in agreement and curled his fingers upwards, "And when you have a problem you talk to one of the best professors in the Academy. Simple as that. I'm surprised you couldn't figure that out."

Viktor stepped forward, pressing his bulge against your wetness, his hands on desk as he let his cane lean against the corner of the said desk. "It is a real problem. One can't have his girlfriend walking around, dripping wet like payed for whore. Just because no one knows that we're fucking doesn't mean you can get away with behaving like this." Moments after he stepped away from you there was a very familiar sign of a zipper followed by the even more familiar push of his cockhead against your throbbing pussy.

He kept you tightly pressed against the desk and himself, teasing you without entering. This stillness seemed to go on for a while. When you tried to push further against him to take more of his cock he pushed you harder against the desk.

"Come like this. With just my tip inside." You knew he could feel your walls flutter against him, could feel you drip down his cock and onto the floor. "What's the matter? I thought you wanted me to fix your problem."

"If this is how you fix problems I'm questioning your credentials." One of his hands pushed against your shoulder, all the way down onto the desk so when you turned your head you looked at his name tag on the desk, reminding you that you were in his classroom, you had to follow his rules. When he was in your classroom did the same, moaning and holding off on finishing through all your teasing and pussyjobs.

The hand that pushed you down was now back on your hip, making sure you don't go anywhere. He still didn't move or show any intent of sinking in deeper, no matter how tempting your warm, wet cunt was. You wanted all of him not just the tip, his whole cock, fucking you like you wanted, how you craved it. But for that to happen you knew what your task was, you knew you had to come.

So you let your imagination run wild, think back to another time when you were in here, but then he was back down on the floor and you on top of him, he had his hands on your tits, pinching your nipples as he held your legs open with his and wildly thrust his cock in and out of your pussy. He got in so deep then, very different from now, he had no self control over his pace despite how his leg protested, all he cared about was your moans above him and the sloshing wet sounds your sloppy cunt made for him.

"Must be good. Whatever you're thinking of. Your cunt is getting so tight." He finally pushed back a little more but just as fast as he did he pulled back to just the tip.

"The last time we were in here." You felt his cock twitch. Almost there, you were so close to getting what you wanted.

"An interesting choice. Did you like me underneath you then? Did you like me being that deep inside you? I believe your exact words were 'balls deep' weren't they?" They were and you wanted it again. You wanted it so bad, you could almost feel it, you could come just from that memory.

As your pussy started to clench around you and your orgasm flow through your body Viktor pushed in the whole way, catching the very start of your orgasm, filling your begging cunt with his cock. You moaned at the feeling of his cock twitching inside you as you came, encouraging Viktor to finally start thrusting back and forth fucking your orgasm out of you.

It wasn't as fast as with his fingers earlier but it didn't have to be. "Shut up." You whimpered, unable to fulfil his command this time, "No seriously darling, shut up."

Your eyes finally focused enough to see a shadow approaching the door. Since you couldn't stop making sounds you placed both hands over your mouth and Viktor leaned forward over your body, his hands digging into the desk.

"Professor Viktor? Are you still working sir?" Asked the person behind the door.

"Yes, very late night, lots to do. But don't worry, something tells me I'm about to finish fast." You heard him laugh behind you then hum when he sunk in all the way, "Really soon."

"Well... alright then, just remember to lock up when you're done. See you tomorrow Professor." With every further step Viktor got rougher, his breath coming out short against your moans. You're not sure your orgasm ever stopped through all of this.

"So naughty. Coming around my cock while I'm talking to a colleague of ours. At least I had the decency to wait until they left." The heavy Academy door shut close in the distance and your moan finally echoed around the classroom again, mixing with Viktor's, jets of his sticky cum painting the inside of your pussy. It was a good thing he wasn't too heavy, you didn't mind him laying over you to catch his breath, you needed it too. "Did that solve your problem, Professor?"

You nodded. "For now. But I might need it again when we get back home. And speaking of problems I think you may have made another one for me." You could almost hear the gears in his head turning, trying to figure it out, "I need you to go get my underwear. I can't walk home... dripping everywhere."

"Oh! Of course I will. Right away." He debated on that statement when he heard the way you moaned as he pulled out. Viktor stumbled a little as he put his pants back on and picked his cane back up and kissed your cheek before starting to walk out the door.

As you stretched your body you caught glimpse of the flower he gave you earlier. "Okay, maybe I was a little jealous."

#arcane #arcane x reader #viktor #viktor x reader #viktor x you #arcane viktor x reader #arcane imagine #arcane fanfic #arcane smut #viktor arcane x reader #league of leguends #league of legends x reader #league of legends smut #league of legends imagine #league of legends fanfiction #15k event

[hangesdarling]

I hear you want Hange requests….heres one for you angry sex with hange 🤤

attention — h. zoë

PAIRING. Hange Zoë x female reader

SYNOPSIS. During the party celebrating Marley and Eldia, the tension between you and Hange remained thick after an argument.

CONTENT. 18+, MDNI, angst, alcoholism, arguments, masturbation, cursing, Yelena making moves on you, jealousy, fingering, strap-on sex, Hange being kinda aggressive, marking up, dacryphilia if you squint, choking, overstimulation, drama (lmk what else)

WORD COUNT. 3.4k

A/N. this is my active daydream being turned into a fic. got carried away lmao

The ballroom party wasn't really necessary. All the fine-tuned instruments, lovely voices, and extravagant facade serve nothing but shallow acquaintanceship between the two parties. It doesn't mean anything, you argued with Hange. But you still sat there in a lone chair by the bar, sipping away your disappointment. And sometimes, your eyes would travel over your spouse happily chatting with fellow commanding heads. 

Irritating, you thought, rolling your eyes before signaling the barkeep for another drink. 

Not only because you and Hange fought this morning, but you were forced to wear an itchy, pretentious dress during the event. You're itching to claw on your skin, the neckline forming tiny rashes mottled across your chest. You looked beautiful, but then again what could be expected from the Commander's wife but beauty, elegance, and good manners? A huff escaped your lips as you remembered Hange ordering you to behave yourself.  

They remained at the center table, chatting and laughing with the higher-ups they used to hate. You could only clench the drink handed to you, wondering if that Hange across the room was the same person you married seven years ago. For all you know, your Hange wouldn't force you into this stupidity and would loathe the pleasantries from the country wishing to eliminate your own. They wouldn't neglect you as what they've been doing for the past months. 

You want to storm there and shake them awake, to say that they shouldn't have let you stay all alone in this stupid, friendless corner like a forgotten, dusting trophy. You've already snapped quietly like a leakage never detected. You sneaked a champagne bottle, walking away from the party as you tore the lace choking your neck. Upstairs, you stormed inside the room you and Hange shared, still tearing away the fabric of your dress in pure irritation. 

You couldn't handle the air downstairs. The sweet scent of whisky, the rich scent of food, and the cloying commingle of expensive perfumes. Even Hange's presence. 

You tore the last ribbons off your dress, letting the fabric fall off your shoulder before crawling back to the cold bed sheets. Pulling the nearby pillow, you buried your face in frustration, trying to think of something peaceful. Flowers, sheep, anything, damnit. But your mind remained on the event downstairs, prompting the frustrated screams you let out on your pillow. 

You rolled over the bed, staring at the ceiling and ruminating what made you so frustrated. Your argument with Hange, the dress, the party... But there was something else. An unwelcomed thought you're trying to neglect out of fear to be pathetic: what frustrated you the most was that Hange hasn't touched you in such a long time. Even the past weeks became so difficult that you never had the opportunity to relieve yourself. Your body wanted to be touched, to be hugged so tightly once again, craving for the familiar feeling of Hange's arms that perfectly fit around your body.

Slowly, you unbuttoned the rest of your clothing, discarding them across the room. It didn't take long for you to set yourself in the mood, shutting the lights off to further feel yourself. In no time, you were clenching on the sheets, moaning soundlessly against the pillow as you tried to imitate Hange's rhythm inside of you. You curled and pumped your fingers inside your dripping cunt, thinking of the bleary memories when Hange was making love with you. 

However, your peak was cut short as you heard the door open and slammed closed within a matter of seconds. Hange's irritated voice followed.

"What do you think you're doing?" Hange hissed, locking the bolts shut. 

You sat up and shot them a glare, "None of your fucking business. Go away."

"None of my business?" Hange turned their head sharply at you. "Of course, it's none of my business that my wife is touching herself with the door unlocked and a huge party happening outside."

Their sarcastic tone irritated you even more. As you would argue back, Hange grabbed your wrist and pulled your chin so you would look at them.

"What were you thinking? What if I'm not the one who walked in?" 

You tore your hand off their bruising grip. "I hate you."

"Right. Hate me all you want. What is it now, you want someone else to walk in so you could be touched?"

Your eyes burned from the angry tears falling on your eyes, you pushed them away and muttered, "I hate you so much. You're making it sound like I'm a disgusting, cheating whore."

"What am I supposed to think when you're doing filthy things in our bed and didn't lock the door?" They argued back. 

"I just forgot to lock the door. Why don't you just drop it? Ugh!" Your voice rose, trying to shut them off. You wrapped a blanket around you, reaching for the bottle across the bed. Maybe handling this drunk would be better. 

Hange let out a sharp, annoyed sigh before swinging the bottle out of your reach. 

"I told you not to drink. You're a lightweight and it's not good for you," they said, trying to be calmer this time. You're so sick of arguing with them anymore that you just let them tear the drink away from you. You pulled the sheets to your chin and muttered, "Fine. Just go away."

Hange was eyeing the torn dress you threw across the room earlier and retorted, "No, you're going back downstairs. People are looking for you."

Of course. Everyone's conversation starter was to ask for the spouse of the other, flashing them like an acquired trophy to be complimented for pristine behavior. 

"No way in hell I'm going there," you said finally. "I'm sleeping."

Hange shot a hard look as your back was against them. They clenched the bottle tightly, eager to snap but wouldn't let themself. 

"Fine. Have your way." Truly, Hange wanted to talk to you, sort things out so you wouldn't sleep angry at them again but you've become so hard and cold. 

They took the bottle with them as they went out and slammed the door shut louder than before. Hange left the room, locking the door shut from the outside, thinking you would continue the act before. They won't risk anyone to see you like that. 

With attentive ears, you heard the tell-tale sound of a bolt being locked from the outside. You ran to the door and checked, wriggling the knob open to no avail. All that ran in your mind was perhaps Hange hated you so much they had to lock you in out of revenge. You pounded on it for almost half a minute, even shouting how irritated you were at them for locking you in. 

Eventually, you slumped from the other side and cried in anger. You didn't want to register what the few moments after that came to be as it was confusing. 

All you knew was that, the door managed to twist open. But it wasn't Hange from the other side. 

Yelena stood there, looking at you almost expectantly as she helped you stand up. She gave a light chuckle as you tried your hardest to cover up. 

"The bolt outside was quite easy. Magnetic," she remarked, her eyes making a subtle glance all over you. "Did Commander Hange lock you here?"

"Yes," you answered shortly, the pout on your lips looked so cute to her.

"Seems like the Commander was quite protective of you," Yelena chuckled, leaning on the door frame. "I could understand why."

Her eyes are set on yours. Knowingly, you understood her intentions but you dismissed it and immediately changed the subject, "Shouldn't you be downstairs?"

"I should be, yes. But I heard you."

You closed the door halfway and muttered, "I think you should go back now... Thanks for opening the door for me."

"Oh, wouldn't you like to be at the party? I bet the Commander would love to see you there," she reasoned, a genuine coax that made something inside you ring. 

Maybe messing around downstairs doesn't sound so bad since you cannot sleep anyway. You quickly changed into the best, most alluring dress you can find. Yelena insisted on coming with you and patiently waited by the door. She offered an arm which you took, as you both went downstairs where the party remained spirited. 

Yelena sat with you on the bar, offering you a drink after the other as you chatted, smiling to yourselves as the party went on. You were too caught up with trying some drinks and invested in what Yelena was saying to even wonder where Hange was. 

Unbeknownst to you, they already spotted you from afar minutes ago. They didn't like how you were sitting too close to Yelena or sharing a drink after one with her. Somehow, they trusted you with moderation despite the argument earlier which you didn't live by. However, they couldn't remain sitting down at the table, seeing you on the verge of drunkenness. Maybe what made them snap was Yelena's arm around yours, squeezing your sides a bit too intimately.

Hange got up from their seat, saying polite excuse me's through the crowd as their gaze remained focused on where you are. They managed to reach you, and Yelena acknowledged them politely. Hange gave her a strained smile, putting an arm around your waist to make you stand up.

"Please excuse us. My wife seems to be drunk," they muttered, pushing your drink from your hand. They pulled you off your seat and muttered, "Come with me."

"I'm not even drunk yet," you argued but didn't try to pull away. It was true, but you were tipsy enough to be tempted. Maybe a little bolder than you usually were. Your eyes set upon Hange's sharp features, wishing you could kiss them right now. Maybe even ask them to carry you in bridal style just like the old times. 

"I'm not letting that happen," they muttered. "Do you want to embarrass yourself so bad?"

Hange guided you upstairs, a firm hand on your waist as they shoved the bedroom door open once again and pulled you back inside. They let you go, making you sit up in the bed as they locked the door once again. 

A minute passed and you were arguing again, bringing up the subject of how they became so cold to you despite your attempts to warm them up. And sometimes, they would barely glance at you, not even a hug or a kiss. 

Hange grew extremely frustrated, body and mind. They wanted this argument to end but couldn't stop their anger from boiling over. You didn't know how things escalated that quickly but your next memory was Hange on top of you, a hand hiked up under your skimpy dress. They placed kisses and bites against your neck and chest, causing you to whimper and grip their shoulder. 

"You said I wasn't giving you attention, right? Then fine, I'll give it to you," their voice was almost a hiss against your ear, making you shiver as they positioned you on the bed. Hange flipped you over, pressing a hand on your lower back while the other bundled around your hair. A soft gasp went through your lips as their hand snaked, downwards tugging down the lace of your underwear to your knees. 

Hange thumbed over your clit the way you liked it, their other fingers gathering the slick from when you touched yourself earlier. You hid your face against the sheets, embarrassed at how quickly you were submitting to their touch, how your body eagerly reacted to the touch it had longing for in such a long time. 

Hange smirked at the sight, wasting no time to push you more harshly to the bed. Their fingers went deeper inside you, smoothly gliding over your warmth from how drenched their fingers were. 

Usually, Hange would start off gently, maybe even tease you until your exposed skin is all marked up by love bites but Hange wouldn't do that this time. They pushed their fingers to the hilt, brutally drawing it back and forth with such force that shook your body. Their teeth nipped against your neck as they did so, relishing the sound of your whimpers. 

"You like that, hm?" They curled their fingers, pumping every digit until your wetness was starting to drip down your thighs. You could even feel their palm against your sensitive area from how fast and deep they pumped their fingers in. You caught the pillow between your teeth in a soundless scream after hearing several footsteps from the hallway near your bedroom.

"What? Don't want them to hear you?" they tugged on your hair, speaking a little louder just to taunt you. A thumb brushed over your aching clit, urging you to moan louder than you could possibly let out. 

Your fingers dug into the sheets, "Stop... fucking with me."

"Fine, dear wife," they smirked as they drew out their fingers the moment they felt your insides clenching against them. 

You whined, about to protest from your ruined orgasm but Hange repositioned you once again, forcing your legs open in front of them.

"I'm not done with you," they said in a low voice, unbuckling their belt. Hange pushed you into a harsh kiss, your wrists locked beneath their hand. You felt the tip of the phallic-shaped toy attached to them, slowly dragging it down your slit before Hange slammed it in one go. You screamed, throwing your head back from such a force against your sensitive flesh. 

Hange gripped your throat, their other hand mounting your leg over their shoulder. The new angle draws out a sharp cry from your throat as Hange begins to plunge the dildo back and forth, their hips moving resolutely. 

"You know," they began. "I was thinking of making love with you after that godforsaken party. Maybe to fuck that frustration out of you. Both of us, really. But no, you just had to annoy me tonight don't you?" 

Hange grunted, their lips parting to plant bruising kisses against your neck. They squeezed your throat a little tighter before saying, "Why were you with Yelena?" 

You had to catch your breath, maybe stabilize yourself against their shoulder so you could speak. 

"She was just being nice," you reasoned but that wasn't what Hange wanted to hear. Their pace increased, hips snapping against yours. 

"Ah, fuck—! Hange, s-slow down," you whined against their shoulder, gripping their arm from how much they were rocking your body. 

"Shut up and take it," Hange hissed, pulling your hips even closer so you could feel every inch of them. Their mouth kissed the bruises on your chest and neck, their eyes half-lidded as they thought about how pretty you looked all marked up. By this time, Hange had torn off what remained of the dress you're wearing, eager to have you bare. No sooner, you feel tiny pricks and bites on your chest, breasts, and stomach. Hange made sure their marks look like perfect artwork on your skin. 

Your head almost dangled against the edge of the bed, their hand remained gripping your throat as they plunged in and out of you, stretching and pummelling your insides. Hange would kiss the moans and whines from your lips, drawing numerous releases out of you until you became a writhing mess under them. Tears rolled down your cheeks, your insides burning from pain and pleasure. 

Hange heard a faint I can't take it anymore from you before letting your weakened body fall back to the bed. After a few long strokes, they pulled out of you, and a soaking mess dripped down both of your thighs, even your hips. Hange watched your eyes flutter, the gentle rising of your marked-up chest whenever you breathed, and how your lips slightly parted from what they did to you. You looked so beautiful in Hange's eyes, the most perfect image ever captured and framed in their mind. 

They wrapped an arm around your waist, pulling you to their chest as they smoothed out your hair. A hand rubbed against your back, easing your body from trembling too much. Hange kissed down the bruises on your neck, inhaling the faint smell of your perfume. The soft, warmth of your body reminded them of how they missed you, of how much they longed to embrace you like this once again. 

"I'm not forgiving you just because you fucked me," Hange heard you mumble. You wanted to break away from their hug, but your body only leaned towards them despite your wishes.

"I know," they mumbled, their hand caressing your cheek, lifting up your chin so you would look at them. Their eyes softened, the way the brown earth turned a tender shade after rain. "Look, Y/N, I'm sorry. For everything."

Hange took your fingers to their lips. "I'm sorry I've been so frustrated and angry. Please allow me to make it up to you."

When you remained quiet against their chest, they continued, "I know that I haven't been affectionate with you in such a long time... Believe me I wanted to but it's just..."

Hange doesn't want to continue. They don't want to tell you what kind of hell being a commander felt like in such a demanding position. They want to appease the people, bring life-long peace, and make Eldia habitable again without any threat of being wiped out. 

They only kissed your hair and mumbled in a breaking voice, "Please forgive me, Y/N. I love you... so much, my sweetheart."

They felt a pang against their chest just from seeing the tears roll down your cheeks after they said those tender words. As if their love radiated through your heart despite weeks of misunderstanding, of not being able to tell each other what one truly feels. 

Your breath hitched against their chest, their arms preventing you from breaking apart any further. 

"I know... It's just that," you began as Hange wiped tears from your cheeks. "Sometimes... I don't even know you anymore."

Hange's heart trembled with the newfound pain from your broken confession but they remained listening.

"Sometimes I would assume you wanted a hug because you always do when you're tired, or maybe a cup of tea or a kiss from me but... there are times I feel like you're pushing me away. That I'm too overbearing, that you're getting sick of me," you sobbed. "I've often wondered if you even think about me."

Your sobs further broke their heart apart. Thinking how they made you feel puts even more resentment within them. They tried to smile with their lips against your forehead as they whispered, "Of course, my love... I think about you. Every day. And forgive me because in all those days, I've imagined nothing but a peaceful life for us after the war is over. I'm getting ahead of myself, I know. I've been so neglectful... I'm so sorry."

Hange let you cry on their chest, wrapping you up in several layers of blankets. 

"Hey, my sweet," Hange muttered, kissing the tears out of you. "How about I just cancel everything tomorrow? We'll go out, just the two of us."

"Really?" you sniffled.

"Really." Hange smiled. 

"That is if I can walk tomorrow. You roughed me up tonight," you smiled through tears. Hange laughed softly against your neck. That laugh you missed so much. 

The ballroom party remained lively downstairs, a room full of shallow chatting and emptying whiskey bottles. A place too intoxicating for genuineness and passion. War and hatred remained thick and prodding despite the fancy facade of the wealthy and powerful.

Hange dismissed all of it just for this night, finding peace the moment their head rested against your chest. Your heartbeats against their ear, your soft fingers running through their hair— each touch reminded them of the paradise they could only find with you. Hange forced the impending war away from their mind just for this time, relishing the memory of their first date with you, your first kiss, your wedding day— everything they want to hold and protect, to achieve peace for. 

"Maybe we can just spend the entire tomorrow here in bed," Hange proposed, a smirk curling on their lips as they continued. "There are still more things I wanted to do with you."

likes, reblogs, and comments are appreciated, sweethearts <3

#hange zoë #hanji zoë #hange zoe #hanji zoe #hange zoe x reader #hanji zoe x reader #hange zoe x you #hanji zoe x you #hange zoe x y/n #hanji zoe x y/n #hange zoe smut #hanji zoe smut #hange x reader #hanji x reader #hange x y/n #hanji x y/n #hange x you #hanji x you #aot x reader #aot x y/n #aot x you #aot x female reader #attack on titan fanfiction #shingeki no kyojin fanfiction #✂ rem writes____✍︎

[irisintheafterglow]

I Think He Knows (pro!kirishima x you)

summary: he's not into party games, so what do you do for seven minutes when you're locked in the closet with your high school crush?

wc: 2.9k

cw/tags: aged up characters!!, friends to lovers, mutual pining, swearing (lots of it), truth or dare, slightly suggestive toward the end but nothing descriptive, first kiss, alcohol and drinking, just pro heroes being idiots

note: prompt is once again from @creativepromptsforwriting because i wanted to write a silly party confession fic ! hope you enjoy, i did NOT mean for this to become this long lmao. he's literally so boyfriend why can't he be real

likes/reblogs/feedback is always appreciated <3

“I want him so bad I’m gonna pass out,” she confesses, throwing herself onto your body and sighing longingly. “Do you think he thinks of me often?”

“Now I really feel like we’re in high school again, ‘chaco. I think you should talk to him about your love life instead of me. Maybe he’ll get the hint, that way.” 

“Hypocrite.” She scowls at you over the rim of her plastic cup, downing another serving of punch with questionable amounts of alcohol. “I had to hear about your infatuation all the time.” 

You stick your tongue out defiantly. “It wasn’t an infatuation. It was just a crush, that’s all.” 

“Yeah, a crush that lasted three whole years,” she hiccups, crossing her legs next to you on the couch and leaning her head on your shoulder. “Do you think about him often? Remember, no lies.” Your eyes immediately gravitate to who she’s talking about, supervising some drinking game at the wet bar that has Kaminari’s eyes watering and Shoto’s face bright red. Deku tries in vain to stop Bakugo from downing shot after shot, ultimately accepting a mystery concoction handed to him by Sero. He immediately spits it out all over Bakugo and both of them are so intoxicated they can’t aim hits at each other correctly. You laugh under your breath and quickly dart your eyes away when Kirishima looks over his shoulder in your direction. Ochaco nods knowingly, giving your thigh a squeeze that startles you. “Oh, you definitely do.” 

Before you can respond, Mina throws the front door of Sero’s house open followed closely by Jiro and Momo. Overflowing grocery bags of junk food line her arms and she kicks the door shut behind her as her hands are both holding a bottle of soju each. Cheers echo through the house at her arrival and she bows dramatically. 

“Looks like the party’s finally here,” Ochaco winks at you before joining Tsu to help Mina unload the groceries. You shake your head as your chest feels the familiar lightness that always came when your entire class was happy and having fun. It was Mina’s idea to have a reunion party, after all, and you knew everyone was looking forward to it. It was scheduled months ago because everyone’s calendars needed to line up and from the looks of it, all of you needed the break. With the press kept back by several thousands of volts of electricity running through the perimeter gate of Sero’s house, you and your friends could finally relax.

Or, so you thought. 

“Okay, party people! Now that we’re all slightly fucked up, it’s time for some games! First game is 7 Minutes in Heaven!”

“As if this hasn’t been 45 minutes of Hell already,” Shinso deadpans from a neighboring armchair, but even you could tell he was enjoying himself by the slight quirk in the corner of his mouth. 

Mina sends a joking glare at him, chucking a balled-up napkin at him. “Get in the fucking circle, Hitoshi.” 

You slide down from the couch onto the floor and feel a muscular bicep press against your arm. “You mind if I sit here?” When you turn to that all-too-familiar voice, you’re blinded by a bright shark-toothed grin and glittering crimson eyes. You smile and nod in assent, eyes widening when you look away to stop your heart from racing. You catch Ochaco’s gaze and she smirks mischievously, to which you loudly suggest the seat next to her when Deku is trying to find a spot in the circle. You wink at her and crack open another can of some fruity mixed drink. 

“So!” Mina begins as Jiro positions an empty glass bottle on the coffee table in the middle of the circle. “Do we all know the rules of 7 Minutes in Heaven–”

“Why the fuck are we using a bottle?” Bakugo’s rough voice cuts through the polite silence and Mina rolls her eyes. “Isn’t that a different fucking game?” 

“It’s only there to ensure no bias in the participants of the game, Bakugo,” Shoto boredly drawls. His face is blank when his eyes meet Bakugo’s. “If we wanted, we could spin your dense head–”

“You wanna go, Ice Pack?”

“Let’s allow Mina to finish speaking!” Ever the diplomat, Momo shakes her head impatiently while she effectively halts the two Pros’ piss match. You feel Kirishima’s sigh of relief that he didn’t have to restrain anyone and bite your lip to suppress a chuckle. 

“As I was saying,” she continues as she delicately dances around the circle. “The bottle will be spun two times. If it lands between two people on the first go-around, those people have to go in. But normally, whoever the bottle points at gets locked in the closet with the other person who’s pointed at for seven minutes. What you two do for those seven minutes…” A suggestive glint flashes across Mina’s dark eyes and she shrugs carefreely. “That’s none of our business.”

An awkward silence settles over the group as Mina continues to stand but seems to be expecting someone else to speak. She clears her throat and Denki suddenly perks up with something to say. “Wait, is this when I do the thing?” Your eyebrows dip in confusion, as do most of your other classmates except for Mina and Sero. 

“Yes, Denki. This is when you do the thing, so go get it.” Sero pinches the bridge of his nose as Denki shoots upward, running down the hallway to grab something from the storage closet. When he returns, he triumphantly holds a cardboard box labeled “HEART RATE MONITOR x2.”

Deku groans, covering his face as Mina beams. “Oh, no…”

“Oh, yes.”

“Did you steal that from some fuckin’ pharmacy?” Bakugo and Shoto both appear horrified. 

“What? No! I got it from my neighbor’s garage sale.”

“That’s even worse!”

Sounds of protest erupt from your classmates and you can’t help giggling at their reluctance to have their heart rate tracked. From your time in high school and into your professional career, you knew you never got picked during these games. You were resting easy knowing you never had to kiss one of your friends because of some stupid bottle. Especially with the positioning of Kirishima right next to you, the odds of you two needing to go into the closet together were slim to none. Tonight, you knew, would be no different than the past as you vaguely listened to Denki explain the use of the heart rate monitor. 

“Basically, we’re gonna call out if you’re making the other person’s pulse jump. It’s like that one part of that couples show we caught Iida watching during our second year,” Mina summarizes and Iida’s stoic voice pipes up in defense of his “research” on how best to acquire a lover while the circle snickers at the memory. Tokoyami’s hand reaches up to pat his shoulder sympathetically. 

“Alright, spin the fuckin’ bottle already! I’m literally aging over here.” Kirishima snorts next to you, hiding a choked laugh with a cough into his sleeve and you jokingly pat his back in concern. You’re too preoccupied with looking at him to notice the gasps and noises of shock as the bottle finishes its rotation around the circle. Confused at the excited expressions of your friends, you look down to see who the bottle pointed at. 

It was between you and Kirishima. 

You had to play 7 Minutes in Heaven with the boy you had a crush on for the entirety of high school. 

Your mind blacked out, face feeling like it was on fire as you both were hooked up to one heart monitor each. You didn’t dare glance at Kirishima because, for all you knew, he was irritated about being picked for these types of games since it wasn’t manly. Ochaco waggled her eyebrows at you and you felt slightly nauseous as she hooked up the machine to your pulse, guiding the wires under the door. “We’ll see you in seven minutes,” Mina crooned. “Have fun!” 

The door locked and you were in complete darkness with him. It was suffocatingly quiet, so silent that breathing felt like a trumpeting elephant. Hushed whispers come from the other side of the door as your classmates analyze your pulse. 

Jesus, his heart is racing. Like, dangerously fast!

So is theirs. Doesn’t sound like they’re doing anything in there, though.

You think he’ll actually make a move tonight?

Dude, shut the fuck up. They can probably hear us through the door. 

You swallow and wince when the noise is audible in the isolated quiet of the closet. 

“So, uh–”

“I, um–” 

You both start to speak and cut off just as abruptly, apologizing profusely and insisting the other go first. He takes a deep breath before he speaks again. 

“Look, honestly, I’m not really…into these types of games,” he starts, breath ragged but you couldn’t imagine why. “I don’t really know how to explain it, I just…”

“I know. It’s okay. Not manly to make out or do God knows what with someone you’re not dating, right?” Your laugh is shaky and you mentally kick yourself for feeling so jittery. 

“Yeah,” he exhales, relieved that you’re not going to expect him to do something he was uncomfortable with. You know damn well he would never make you do something you were uncomfortable with. It’s quiet again for a few moments before he clears his throat and continues. “But… I feel bad just making you sit here in awkward silence so…do you wanna play truth or dare instead?” 

Oh, shit, their heart rate finally spiked! 

Why’s it say that his breathing is super shallow? 

You’re reading something wrong because that’s definitely not what this measures. 

“Sure.” You hear him shift around in his seat on the floor and you lean against the wall, pulling your legs close. “Wanna go first?” 

“Yeah. Alright, uh…well, truth or dare?” 

You choose the safe option, always. “Truth.” You had no idea what he would possibly ask you, but you knew it was probably going to be harmless. 

“What’s your type?” Your blood runs cold in your veins and you pray that your heartbeat isn’t as loud in reality as it is in your ears. He must mistake your silence for confusion. “Like…in a guy.” 

“Um…” Your voice trails off, mind running at a million miles an hour to bury your secret. “Someone nice, I guess.” He hums in acknowledgement, waiting for you to explain further. “I’d like him to be supportive of me and my career. Good with my friends, that’s a given. Uh…yeah. Just not a scumbag.” You laugh to relieve some of the tension in your chest and feel a little lighter when you hear him chuckle too. “I don’t really care about body type or looks; I just want him to be a good person who will treat me right. In my dreams, I’d like him to treat me like I’m royalty, adore me and whatever. That’s hard to come by these days, though.” 

Fuck, his pulse is racing! 

What could they be doing in there so quietly that’s making him so nervous? 

Shall we alert medical personnel? 

No, Iida. You can see their hearts are still beating right here. 

“Alright, well. I hope you find the man of your dreams then. He sounds great.” In the darkness, you could have sworn he sounded almost…disappointed? “Okay, your turn. Ask me.”

“Hmm, okay. Truth or dare?” 

“Truth.” 

The question slips out before you can stop it. You blame the liquid courage and the mystery drink Ochaco made for you. “What’s your type?” 

Wow, that’s a huge spike for him. 

It looks like their heart rate has leveled out; does that mean they’re not nervous anymore? 

Maybe, or maybe they’re used to the energy now. He’s still a stuttering mess in there, I bet. 

“Uh, someone familiar, if that makes sense. Like, you know, hero stuff can get really exhausting. I think my type is just someone who I can come home to and who’ll love me even through the good and the bad. Someone to help me fight battles, physical and mental, you know?” You nod and realize he can’t see it, so you settle for humming in agreement. Your brain feels fuzzy and it takes a considerable amount of effort to focus on the smooth tone of his voice. 

“Do you remember the first battle we fought together?” 

“Of course I do.” You can hear the fond smile in his voice. “I volunteered to partner with you because I thought you were cool.” 

“You didn’t know anything about me yet.”

“Didn’t matter. It just felt right to be with you.” 

Huge spike for both of them! 

Seems like he’s having a whole rollercoaster of emotions in there. 

Your heart stops again and you wish there was light so you could read his expression, whether he meant it platonically or something more. “Okay, my turn. Would you ever date anyone outside? Like from our friend group?”

He’s silent for a long time and you worry he didn’t hear you correctly before he gives a definitive, “No.” Impulse takes hold of your mind. 

“Why not?” 

“I’m just not interested in any of them.” 

“But you are interested in someone?” The second question falls from your lips naturally and you don’t expect him to answer it considering that it wasn’t part of the game. 

His pulse is slowly increasing again. He must be getting nervous. 

“Yeah, I am.” Your heart drops into your stomach. Of course he was interested in someone, and they were probably interested back, but the likelihood of it being you was in your wildest dreams. 

“Hmm, okay. Your turn.” 

“Are you interested in anyone in our friend group?” 

Your voice chokes in your throat. “Y-Yeah.” Sweat beads on your burning face and for the first time, you’re grateful for the lack of light so he can’t see how much you’re panicking. 

“Are they outside right now?”

“It’s my turn to ask, Kiri.”

“You got an extra one on me, if you think I didn’t notice.” His voice is dangerously low, more serious than you’ve heard him in a long time. “So. Is the person you’re interested in outside right now?” 

Both their pulses are racing again. 

They must be talking about something because this doesn’t happen if you’re just kissing the entire time. 

Oh, because you have lots of experience kissing and getting people’s heart rates up?

Ask your mom about my experience with kissing–

You asshole– 

Shut the hell up! I’m trying to eavesdrop! 

You steady your resolve, inhaling and exhaling deeply before answering the expectant darkness. “No, they’re not out there right now.” You can hear the confusion cross his face as he calculates who in your friend group was absent. 

“Who are you–”

“He’s in here with me.” The smallest oh escapes his lips and you pray for the time to go faster, body burning in shame. “Sorry, this is a really weird way of telling you, but…”

“Can I kiss you?” 

Your brain short-circuits. 

“Huh?” You question dumbly. 

“I wanna kiss you. Please.” 

“You don’t have to, Kiri, really. You don’t have to play the rules of the game if–”

“This isn’t about the game anymore. I wanna kiss you, game or no game.” 

“Why?” 

“Because I like you.” He huffs and you hear him run a hand through his hair in the darkness. He only did that when he was nervous. You were making him nervous. “You’re the only one I’m interested in, the only one I’ve been interested in since high school.” 

What the fuck? 

Denki, your fucking machine broke! 

We lost their pulses! 

Did those idiots break the heart rate monitor? 

I think you broke the heart monitor, stupid.

You’re speechless and, tired of words, you crawl toward his voice in the darkness. It seems that he had the same idea as he receives you eagerly. His calloused hands pull you into his lap until you’re on top of him, fiddling with the hair at the back of his neck. His breath is hot on your neck as you wait there for something to happen and you sigh into his mouth when it finally finds yours. The first kiss is gentle and sweet, careful not to scare you away. But after you catch your breath and pull him closer by his jacket collar, his fingers firmly press into your hips, running over the eaves of your body. Your breath comes short and fast and you needily pull him closer as he confidently meets your wordless demands. He pulls away for a moment, pressing a light kiss to your cheek. 

“Kiri…”

“Eijiro.”

“Eiji, please.” 

“Hold on. It’s been seven minutes. And, for the record, I want to date you.”

You’re barely able to supply your agreement before a loud banging on the closet door startles you. 

Alright, lovebirds, that’s time! Opening up the door in three…two…what? 

Before they can open the door, you catch the telltale sound of Eijiro hardening his arm and a spark of light as he slams his fist down on the door handle, locking you in but also locking everyone else out. 

Oh, shit! He actually did it! 

This was his entire fucking plan? 

You better pay for my door when you inevitably break it open! 

Let them be; it’s been a long time coming. 

“Now, where were we?” You laugh in disbelief at the smug grin in his voice as he gently bites the juncture where your neck and shoulder meet, hands roaming increasingly lower on your body. 

“Eijiro, they’re gonna get anxious that we died or something,” you make to leave his lap and open the door, but his arms catch you before you stand. 

“I’ve waited years for you. They can wait a few more minutes.” 

if you enjoy my writing and would like to support me, you can buy me a coffee on my ko-fi! you can also check out my full masterlist here :)

#mha x reader #bnha x reader #mha x y/n #bnha x you #kirishima x reader #kirishima x you #kirishima x y/n

[once-in-a-blood-moon]

Jooooo!!! Hiya!!!! Can i request solomon + tell no lie? I just think this prompt kinda suits him lmao. Lots of love!! 🫶🫶🫶

Solomon - Tell No Lie

Solomon x GN! reader

Prompt: It’s impossible to lie to your soulmate.

AN: Hi Ven!!! Much love to you as well!! 💜 Sorry for the delay, but anyways this is kind of a silly fic based on a thought I had of Solomon sometime ago, and thought it worked well with the prompt...or at least I hope it did 😅 I really hope you enjoy it! Thank you for being patient and take care of yourself!!

Warnings: Solomon referring to reader as dear, darling, and beautiful, Solomon being Solomon shenanigans (I promise!), slight miscommunication but nothing angsty, established soulmate connection/relationship

Another stressful day babysitting the Avatars of Sin, you can hardly wait to go back to Cocytus Hall where it’s significantly more peaceful and quiet…as long as Solomon hasn’t snuck into the kitchen while you were away. 

You have your D.D.D. up to your ear as you wait for the sorcerer to pick up, wanting to let him know you’re on your way and that Lucifer is escorting you this evening. You hear the faint shut of the door behind you as Lucifer joins you out under the front awning, staying quiet as he notices your ear-to-phone stance. 

The phone goes to the last ring, and you don’t think Solomon’s going to pick up – which is odd because normally he picks up in less than two if it’s you – but he does at the last second, sounding as carefree as ever. 

“Ah, hello, my dear. Ready to come back home?” 

“Yeah, though Lucifer offered to walk me back,” you reply, giving Lucifer a quick appreciative grin, which he returns as he waits patiently beside you, “we’re just leaving now.” 

The sorcerer hums softly. “I see. I’ve…had something come up, so that works out perfectly then.” You pick up his nervous tone with ease and know automatically something’s troubling him.

“...Is everything okay?” You know that a question like that is his weakness. Really…any and all of your questions are his weakness. They’re inescapable, unavoidable, and you like that you can use that to your advantage often. 

He answers a hair too quickly, probably hoping you won’t interrogate him further, while still being truthful. “Yeah! Yes. Everything is great, I think.” 

“Uh-huh… So, what is this “something,” Solomon?” 

There’s a delay in the answering this time. You can almost even hear him trying to physically restrain himself from saying anything, but it’s no use. He cannot lie to you – not that he likes to anyway, but there are things better left unsaid sometimes. 

Solomon sighs into the phone as the truth pushes past his lips, “I have a kid...” 

To say you are dumbfounded is an understatement. You’re silent for longer than is comfortable, blinking slowly and unable to formulate any questions. Once you gather yourself, you fill your lungs as you try to grapple with what he just said. 

“I’m sorry… What?!” The alarm in your voice is quite apparent, causing Lucifer to glance over in worry, wondering if he should get involved or not. 

On the other side of the line, there’s some crashing sounds and light scolding from Solomon that’s hard to make out. It seems he’s holding the phone away from him. He soon brings the phone back to his ear with words coming out in a rushed flurry. 

“I need to go, I’ll see you when you get back home!” Before you even get the chance, the sorcerer hangs up on you, and you’re left just as clueless as you started. You pocket your phone, your body tense and thoughts nervous for what you’re about to go home to. 

Lucifer picks up on this as the both of you start your way towards the iron-wrought gate. “Is everything alright?” 

You sigh in response, shaking your head as you try to sort out the conversation in your head. “Honestly…I have no idea.” 

Due to how shocked and concerned you are, with millions of questions buzzing in your head, the walk to Cocytus Hall is silent. You also feel your heart in the pit of your stomach as you wonder what this means for Solomon and yourself. Lucifer doesn’t prod you any further, which you’re thankful for because what are you supposed to tell him? 

Once you arrive, you thank Lucifer for escorting you before heading directly inside to see for yourself just what the hell is happening. 

The first thing you notice upon entering is the odd smell wafting throughout the hall. It doesn’t smell anything like the chemical warfare Solomon cooks up in the kitchen with its distinct odor, so that’s at least a relief. You venture further in, making your way to the common room to see if the sorcerer is there. 

Your foot crosses the threshold, but pauses mid-step as your eyes land on something black and fuzzy laying on the couch. 

“Me-e-eh.” 

“What the-” you start, but you recognize the sound of footsteps approaching from behind and you quickly glance over your shoulder to see Solomon with a little metal bowl filled with water. His eyes are trained on the bowl, simultaneously lost in his thoughts while making sure not to spill any, so when you clear your throat to get his attention, his head snaps up instantly.

He plasters on a cheerful smile which reaches his eyes upon seeing you home. “Welcome home, darling.” 

You say nothing, now standing with your arms crossed as you stare at him with a blank expression as if waiting for him to explain why there is a baby goat sitting on the couch. Solomon lets out a sheepish chuckle as he rubs the back of his neck, indicating that he knows you know now.

“What do you think? He’s cute, no?” 

“He’s cute, alright…” you pause, taking a peek at the little thing which is staring back at you in curiosity. You turn back to Solomon. “Is this the “kid” you mentioned earlier?” 

A beat of silence passes between you two before he replies, “...yes.” 

Your brows knit together so hard you might just start knitting a sweater with them. “Solomon, why didn’t you just tell me it was a baby goat? Wouldn’t that have been, oh I don’t know, simpler? I thought something else was going on!”

His eyes dart from yours to the bowl in his hands, feeling a bit ashamed of himself for worrying you so much. “I suppose so, but I didn’t lie to you. He is technically a kid.” 

The sound of tiny hooves clicking against the wood floor draws your attention back to the goat, who trots its way over to the two of you, looking almost expectantly at Solomon. He smiles softly as he crouches down to set the bowl of water before the small creature. 

“Here you go, little guy.” The goat sniffs at the bowl, inspecting it, before tentatively lapping at the cool, fresh water within. Solomon reaches a hand out and gently strokes its fuzzy back, gazing at it fondly. It seems the two have already bonded. You almost can’t be mad with how cute this scene is to you. 

A little smile tugs at your lips as you start again. “Where did he come from?” 

Solomon glances back up to you. “Would you believe me if I told you I honestly just found him wandering around down here in the street?”  

“I kinda have to. You can’t lie to me.” 

He chuckles in response. “Indeed I cannot. Though, you can’t lie to me either, my beautiful soulmate.” 

“Hey, you can’t just throw some sweet words my way and think you can get away with this. You really had me spooked earlier,” a faint chuckle weaves its way through your words, finding this whole thing ridiculous. Still, you can’t deny how flattered you are, because you know it’s the truth. 

He truly does see you that way. 

“I know, I know. Flattery will get me nowhere… But you can’t blame a guy for trying,” he says as he shrugs with a hint of a smirk. “Anyways, I plan on looking into some notable farms in the human realm and contacting them to see if any of them are interested in taking him. He can’t stay here, unfortunately, as this wouldn’t be a sustainable life for him. But for now, he’s ours.” Solomon stands to full height and snakes his arms around your waist. 

You grin as your hands come up to rest along his shoulders. “Ours?” 

Solomon chuckles softly with a nod. “Yes,” he pauses for a moment, glancing down at the little goat who looks back up at him and “mehs” at him loudly. “I’ll think I’ll even let you name him.” 

#valentine's soulmate event #obey me #obey me shall we date #obey me nightbringer #obey me fluff #obey me solomon #obey me solomon x reader #jo writes

[therealvalkyrie]

the morning, the evening

Pairing/setting: Farmer!Ushijima Wakatoshi x Fem!Reader Word Count: 2.6k Warnings: very fluffy, implied sex, reader wants a baby AN: I've been working on this sporadically for *checks watch* 2.5 years so I hope y'all fucking like it lmao. I really struggled with tying up the ending, so if it feels abrupt that's why! also was too intimidated to try and write baby-making smut, so feel free to imagine those particular shenanigans in your own huge and wrinkly brainsicle. love you all! ~valkyrie

It’s on mornings like this that you feel most unlike yourself. When you slip out of bed before your husband and tug on one of his huge flannels, the sun just peeking into your window. It’s too early. Too early to think, too early for food, too early to do anything but slip out onto the porch in bare feet and curl up on the porch swing. The birds are just waking up with you -- chickadees singing a greeting and the chickens clucking softly in reply. The dewy air sends goosebumps up your bare legs and settles in your lungs as mist clings to the ground. It makes you feel a little lost, a little out of place; mornings have never been meant for you.

When your husband wakes up with the rooster, he joins you on the porch swing, the screen door creaking shut behind him, and hands you a cup of coffee. You lean into his sturdy side and clutch your third favorite mug with both hands (the handle broke last year when you dropped it on the kitchen tile). He doesn’t say anything, just presses his lips to your temple and looks out to the mountains with you. He knows you’ve never been meant for mornings.

When his yellow mug is empty, he rubs your bent knee with a huge hand and leaves you to start farm chores. You may be entitled to a slow start, but the horses expect breakfast before 7 or they’ll be ornery all day.

The sun burns enough dew away for the farmhand’s truck to kick up dust as he drives up your long driveway -- your cue to go put on pants. Back in the bedroom, the stained glass ornaments hanging in the windows are casting shifting rainbows on the wall. This is what lifts your lips for the first time today and prompts the first sip of tepid coffee. You sprawl out on your unmade bed, stretching like a cat in a sunspot made just for you.

By the time you pad downstairs in jeans and an airy blouse, the morning has begrudgingly made a space for you in between its sense of purpose and quiet watchfulness. You set about making breakfast and more coffee, nudging the kitchen awake. You say good morning to the toaster and the butter bell and the kettle on the stove and purposely ignore the dishwasher, which has been giving attitude since the weekend.

You’re murmuring quietly to a pancake when Wakatoshi clomps back in, hanging his hat on the hook by the door.

“Good morning,” you greet, offering up your cheek, which he kisses along with a heavy hand on your hip.

“Does the pancake ever talk back?” he wonders aloud, looking over your shoulder into your cast iron pan.

“Not yet,” you reach for your spatula and grin up at him, “which is what makes it such a good listener.”

He hums thoughtfully and squeezes your waist with his big hand before turning away to reach for plates from the cupboard.

Breakfast passes in conversation about the farrier visiting in the afternoon -- some horses are due for new shoes -- between bites of food. Toshi disappears out the back door to start the rest of his day and you load dishes into the dishwasher. It grumbles to life after a swift kick to the bottom left corner. You’ll have to call the plumber before the weekend.

You’re feeling halfway back to yourself again when you settle into your creaky wooden office chair. It’s nearly the end of the month, which means today is for paying bills and making calls. It’s not nearly as much of a task as it was when you first took over the business side of the farm. Then, you’d had to wade through fifty years of an unintelligible filing system and re-negotiate deals that Wakatoshi’s grandparents had made just as long ago. You’ve always had a way with numbers and a sense for business; it’s the local politics that gave you trouble. People this far into farming country simply don’t trust outsiders, no matter if they’re married to the local golden boy.

Wakatoshi says it had been the same for his father, coming in as an outsider and marrying the beloved daughter of a beloved family. That’s why he’d left, when Toshi was just a kid, never having managed to really feel at home in the community or on the farm.

“But he didn’t have the advantage of your smile,” he’d joked, poking the corner of your mouth gently as you lay in bed late one night a couple of weeks after your wedding.

You’d giggled, swatting his hand away and burying your face into his broad chest. “Do you really think they’ll like me?” you asked in a small voice after a quiet moment.

“They’ll love you. Just like I do.”

You wouldn’t quite say they love you, but the town has at least grown to tolerate you after you’d asserted yourself into their daily lives. Miss Betty at the feed store still doesn’t give you a discount on grain like she had your mother-in-law, and Mary Fletcher still calls you a gold digger behind your back. But at least you’ve made good enough friends with her cousin Amber, who boards her horse in your stables and comes by almost every weekend, to hear about it.

You begin to sweat as the summer announces that it’s still here in the late morning and turn on the rotating fan in an effort to stay cool. The dial of the old rotary phone whirs under your fingertips as you call up the bank, one bare foot bouncing in the air where your leg dangles over the armrest of your chair and receiver cradled to your ear.

It’s a tedious conversation with Laurie, the one and only bank teller, whose daughter is going off to college in just a couple of weeks, that carries you over into lunchtime. You eventually manage to steer her in the direction of the purpose of your call, learning, amidst tidbits about her daughter’s roommate and her son’s soccer tryouts, that your check to the vet had bounced because of an error on the bank’s end. Thank God.

“Shit, that woman can talk,” you breathe when the receiver is safely in its cradle, and Laurie won’t threaten to wash out your mouth with soap for using foul language.

With a deep exhale, you allow your head to fall onto the back of the chair, languishing in the buzzing heat. For the millionth time this summer, you think back to your tiny city apartment, with its shitty water pressure and shitty commute and heavenly air conditioning. What you wouldn’t give….

Well, you wouldn’t give up Wakatoshi, for one.

And you’d had that, with him. You fit him into your tiny shower, washing each other’s bodies and then fucking on the bathroom counter when he couldn’t figure out how to finagle his limbs to fit. He kissed you every morning before work, pressing a packed lunch into your hands.

He proposed under your favorite oak tree in the park at peak foliage, asking you to marry him and move back to his home. You said yes.

You meant it.

But, God. This heat.

The afternoon drags you down, oppressive and lingering, and you find yourself incapable of thinking anymore.

You pass Wakatoshi on your way across the driveway and give him a brief wave, your ring of keys hanging off your middle finger.

“I’ll be back for dinner,” you call as he takes off his hat and runs his fingers through his sweaty hair.

He watches the way your legs propel you up into the elevated cab of his truck, loaded with some buzzing anxiety to move, even through this thick air.

“Okay,” he says.

The first summer you knew Wakatoshi, he invited you to visit home with him for a week. You weren’t together yet, still dancing on the periphery of a relationship with that youthful arrogance of those barely touching adulthood. Halfway through the six-hour drive from the city, he pulled over at a farmstand and bought peaches and lemonade. You ate them in the bed of his truck parked under a maple tree, boughs flush with green and peach juice slipping down your chin.

These grocery store peaches aren’t quite as tender --  you’re just too far North to get them really fresh -- but they’ll do. Still, you worry they’ll bruise as you set the paper grocery bag on the passenger seat next to the bakery box already there. You stand there for a second dumbly, trying to think of a better way to pack them in among your other groceries so they won’t bump around, until the afternoon sun has sunk into the top of your head so it feels like your brain is melting to the inside of your skull. Feeling a little foolish, but otherwise at a loss, you buckle the grocery bag and the box into the seat.

That makes you grin to yourself and snort a giggle as you slam the passenger door and circle around to the other side of the truck. The engine turns and complains for a second before giving in.

Sometimes this is all you need to put yourself back in your body. This little ritual of grocery shopping by yourself -- driving with the music turned up, reading ingredient labels, watching the deli counter guy slice half a pound of provolone. That mundanity, that routine of an adult woman who buys her own groceries, puts everything else in perspective.

You’re here because you want to be. Because you chose to be.

You come to a decision.

Wakatoshi doesn’t pick up the phone when you call on your way out of town, but that’s to be expected. This time of day, he’s most likely out with the horses, and cell reception gives out only a quarter-mile into the pastures. The call goes to voicemail, and you smile to yourself as his recorded voice instructs you to please leave a message. The tone beeps.

“Hey, I’m headed home now. I’ll be there in, uh, about fifteen? Anyway, meet me down at the pond for dinner. Maybe… six-thirty? I thought we’d do something a little special. Okay, I love you!”

The pond is at the East edge of the property, fed by a brook that bubbles out of the foothills. On the side opposite of where the horse pastures end, there is a willow tree that stretches and drapes down to trace the surface of the water. It is under that willow tree that you unpack your picnic basket, pouring white wine into thermos mugs as the low sun streaks through branches.

The heat of the day is finally breaking, giving way to a cacophony of peeper frogs that you can normally only hear distantly in the house. Here, it fills your mind and allows you to think of nothing else but watching the distant silhouette of your husband crossing the pasture towards you. He’s backlit, long shadow reaching across the fence long before he does. You watch him walk in an easy, rolling gait through long grass, watch him hop the fence like he was born for it.

And he was, you remind yourself. He was born for these wide spaces and nature smells. Where you must find space for yourself in the uninhabited corners of the farm (the office, the Eastern edge, the kitchen), he fills the rest as naturally as water fills the pond.

He says your name at the edge of the willow tree, ducking under a bough.

“Hello, love,” you say and smile and pat the blanket next to where you’re sitting.

Your husband sits, folding his legs under him like a little kid. It makes your heart feel a little tender as you tuck yourself into his side and explain your meal: sandwiches and fruit, cherry pie and wine for dessert. He thanks you simply, bending down to kiss you in that slow way that caught you like honey in a trap that first night in front of your apartment building, all those years ago. He tastes like vanilla chapstick.

You eat. Wakatoshi tells you about his day. About the farrier's visit and fixing a leak in the chicken coop’s roof.

“Wakatoshi,” you say, leaning forward to pick at the grass as he works the stone out of a peach with his pocket knife. He hums, deft in his work but listening. “What would you say about having a baby?”

He makes a sharp noise of pain and you look over, wide-eyed, to see he’s sliced clean through the peach and into his own palm. The blood wells before your eyes, mixing with peach juice as you gasp and lunge for the paper napkins in the basket.

“You have to be more careful! What if you seriously--” “Yes,” he cuts you off as you’re taking his hand in both of yours, setting the fruit and knife aside, and wadding up the napkins to stop the bleeding.

“What?”

“I’d say yes to having a baby.” He’s looking right at you with those hazel eyes, the expression in them so close to reverence it stuns you.

“Oh,” you breathe, staring straight back.

At that exact moment, the setting sun glows orange at the top of the pasture hill, streaking Wakatoshi’s cheek with gold through the willow branches. All the breath is gone from you, your head gone light from having this question you’ve mulled over for weeks answered so simply.

His uninjured hand finds your cheek, tucks stray hair away from your face.

“Are you asking? Do you want to have a baby?”

“I-- Yes. I’m asking.”

He smiles, soft as the cattails that sway at the opposite edge of the pond, and leans in to meet your lips with his. You let yourself sink into it for a moment, unable to stop smiling against his mouth, but pull away to further inspect the slice across his palm. He lets you, his fingers curled gently inward while you dab away blood and rub a gentle thumb on his wrist, but his gaze never wavers from your face. It’s intense-- almost like how it was when you first knew him, but with an undercurrent of affection that makes your chest warm.

“It doesn’t look too deep,” you conclude, folding up some clean napkins and pressing them to the wound. “But we should clean it--”

“It can wait.”

“But it could still get infected, what if--”

“It can wait,” he interrupts again, insisting with gentle obstinance. The next words are low in his chest. “I can’t.”

You don’t get back to the house until late, August constellations suspended thickly overhead. It’s like you’re kids again and the barn cat is your mother, watching disapprovingly from her perch on the porch railing as you sneak in after curfew, wine-tipsy and elated. Your husband crowds in the door after you, handsy even after you’ve done nothing but touch each other all evening. You pull him into the kitchen and make him wash his wound thoroughly, your thumbs rubbing into the meat of his palm.

“I hope our daughter has your eyes,” he says. He’s close, his own eyes finding yours in the almost-dark.

“A daughter, huh?”

“A daughter. She’ll be just like you.”

“And what am I like?” you ask, coy, looking up at him through your lashes in the starlight streaming in the window.

Wakatoshi leans forward gently, resting his brow on yours. “You are,” he swallows thickly, eyes fluttering closed, “you are the world.”

Your day ends nothing like it began. Your day ends with utter surety of your place in this house, in this town, in Wakatoshi’s arms. The day ends and you feel completely yourself again, cradled in the gently rolling hills of the life you’ve chosen.

#ushijima wakatoshi x reader #ushijima x reader #fluff #reader insert #haikyuu!! reader insert #valkyrie writes #tw babymaking #tw fluff

[renecdote]

18. walking home and/or "holding their hands in general" from the prompts if they inspire something!

this got soo sappy and I am not sorry about it lmao

[Read on AO3]

Buck doesn’t think he’ll ever get tired of kissing Eddie. He’s only been doing it for three weeks, but it’s already his new favourite activity, and every time he starts, he never wants to stop.

“We should stop,” Eddie tries, but it’s not very convincing when he sucks on Buck’s bottom lip less than a second later, his hand rucking up Buck’s shirt to find a home against his skin.

It’s been a while since Buck made out with anyone in a car in a darkened parking garage. At least four years. Maybe more. How long ago did Ali break up with him anyway? It all feels so blurry now. He thinks that has less to do with the passage of time, though, and more to do with the way that a lot of things feel blurry when Eddie is kissing him like this. Like Buck isn’t the only one who never wants to stop.

He thinks he makes a sound of agreement—they really should stop, if only because the front of the car is the least ideal part of a car to make out with someone in. It’s not like either of them meant for one goodnight kiss to turn into too many to count. Buck’s body is probably going to hate him in the morning for the way he’s twisted in his seat, but that is tomorrow Buck’s problem. Tonight Buck doesn’t care about anything except now, Eddie, the slide of their lips together, the heat coiling in his stomach.

The sudden honk of the truck’s horn makes him jump, startling so badly he bangs his head on the roof.

“Fuck,” Eddie gasps beside him. “Shit, sorry, my elbow—”

They stare at each other for a beat, two beats, and then they’re both laughing.

“Okay,” Buck says, trying futilely to straighten the mess that Eddie has made of his clothes. “Okay, I think that’s the universe telling us we’re not teenagers anymore.”

Eddie rolls his eyes, but it’s a distinctly amused kind of eye rolling. “Still with the universe and it’s signs, huh?”

“It’s the universe, Eds, it’s not like it’s goes anywhere.”

“You’re ridiculous,” Eddie says, but he says it like he really means I love you. It makes an altogether different kind of heat coil in Buck’s stomach, an almost-butterflies feeling that seems ridiculous considering they’re already dating. And maybe they haven’t said those three little words yet, but. It’s not like he doesn’t know. Not like he hasn’t known for a while, even if it all still feels too fragile to say aloud.

Eddie tips his chin up and leans over, more carefully this time, to give him one last quick kiss.

“Thank you,” he says, smiling the same soft smile he’s been gazing at Buck with all night. “Tonight was fun.”

Dinner, he probably means.  The rest of it too.

“You’re not gonna walk me to my door?” Buck asks, and it’s meant to be a joke, it really is, but there’s a little part of him that thinks please. Please love me the way I’ve always wanted to be loved.

“I’m not coming in,” Eddie warns him, tone almost stern. He said the same thing last time, and the time before that, and still ended up on the other side of Buck’s apartment door. “I mean it, Buck, I told Pepa she’d only have to look after Chris until ten.”

“I know,” Buck assures him. “I was kidding, Eds.”

“I know.”

But he’s opening his door and getting out, slamming it shut behind him. Buck grins and hurries to follow.

When the elevator doors slide closed on them, Eddie reaches out and tangles their fingers together, squeezing gently for no apparent reason other than that he can. It makes Buck’s heart stutter, warmth wriggling in his chest, giddy in a way he hasn’t been since Abby. Maybe even with Abby. She was so rarely the first one to reach out, unless she was reaching for his belt. It didn’t bother him at the time; he figured she just wasn’t a physically affectionate person. Then he saw her with her fiancé and realised she just didn’t want to be affection with him.

Eddie wants to be affectionate with him. Is affectionate with him. He plays with Buck’s hair while they watch TV, and comes up behind him in the kitchen to wrap sleepy arms around him in the morning, and holds his hand just because. Kisses him just because. It’s only been three weeks, but Buck already finds himself turning his head at the door and trusting that Eddie’s lips are there to say goodbye, or hello, or I missed you.

The elevator dings, spitting them out onto the fourth floor, but Eddie doesn’t let go of his hand. It makes Buck wish that the walk to his apartment was longer. A thousand feet instead of the two dozen it is down the hallway and around the corner. He finds himself taking slower steps, but can’t be sure whether he’s setting the pace or just following Eddie’s lead.

The hallway around them is empty. Will probably stay empty at this hour. If Buck was a stronger man, he might be able to resist a temptation like that, but Eddie Diaz has always been his greatest weakness. They reach his door, but he doesn’t open it. Doesn’t even take out his keys. He just tugs Eddie closer and kisses him, unhurried. Eddie makes a sound in the back of his throat, not quite a protest, and his hands slide over Buck’s hips, his ass, holding them together even as he’s mumbling, “I really should—I can’t stay—,” between kisses. Buck hums, not quite agreement, and nips at his jaw. Eddie groans, a broken kind of sound, and finally breaks away long enough to say, “Pack a bag.”

Buck leans back, confused. “What?”

“A bag,” Eddie repeats, and he’s pulling Buck’s keys out of his pocket to reach around and unlock the door himself. “Pyjamas, toothbrush—what else do you need? You’ve still got clothes at my place.”

The door swings open behind him and Buck stumbles backwards, unbalanced, caught only by the arm his partner still has around his waist.

“Are you kidnapping me?” he asks, mostly on autopilot. Moving on autopilot too—stairs, closet, bathroom, where the fuck did he leave his work bag?—since the larger part of his brain is still caught up in Eddie’s lips, Eddie’s hands, the delicious burn of Eddie’s stubble against his skin.

“Yes,” Eddie answers, no hesitation. “Don’t forget to grab your iPad for therapy in the morning.”

The iPad goes into the bag.

“Maddie won’t pay the random,” Buck tells him, picking through the basket of clean laundry on the table for an LAFD shirt to toss in as well.

Eddie shrugs. “Bobby might.”

“What if he doesn’t?”

“Well,” slinging the bag over his shoulder with one hand, reaching out with the other for Buck’s hand, “I guess I’ll just have to keep you.”

Buck can feel his cheeks flushing pink, a smile making them ache. It’s a joke, he knows it’s a joke, but.

“You’re gonna keep me, huh?”

Eddie uses their joined hands to tug him close enough to kiss, short and sweet but somehow more dizzying than anything else tonight.

“I’m gonna do a lot of things with you,” he promises, and it’s so soft that Buck’s mind skips right over the dozen innuendos he could find in that sentence and goes straight to forever. Marriage, kids, a house with a nice yard and a dog, waking up every morning with his best friend in his arms.

“Yeah?” he somehow says, only a little breathless, forever still unfolding behind his eyes.

“Yeah,” Eddie echoes, smiling that same soft smile he’s been wearing all night. The kind of smile Buck always thought he would see looking across the altar at his wedding. “I think I’ll start by taking you home.”

Buck’s heart stumbles a little, losing its rhythm and jumping ahead to get it back. His mouth feels crowded with all the things it feels too early to say. They’ve only been together for three weeks, he has to keep reminding himself, even if it does already feel like a lifetime.

“Well then,” he finally manages, “what are you waiting for?”

Eddie grins, and holds them there a moment longer for another bone-melting kiss, Buck’s fingers curling in his jacket, touching at every point they can. And then he leads Buck out of the apartment, back down to the truck waiting in the parking garage, and, hand in hand the whole drive, takes him home.

#Evan Buckley #Eddie Diaz #911 Fox #fic

[viennacherries]

Hiya!! I finished Kiss the Cook a little bit ago and loved it!!! Your writing has such good pacing to it, I really enjoyed reading it!

I also have a request, if you're interested: Rolan (or Gale tbh, works with any spellcaster) is in the middle of casting a spell but Tav/reader wants to tease him so they either 1, pin his hands together so he can't do somatic components, or 2, stick their fingers in his mouth to keep him from doing verbal components. This ofc leads to some nsfw shenanigans lmao

(My ao3 is Nightreader13)

Hope you're having an amazing day, and tysm for making such wonderful content, love ya 💜💜

tried to post it as a gift but it didn't let me! sorry about that.

this got away from me a bit but i hope you still like it! as requested: fingers in mouth to shut up a spellcaster. rolan/tav because i have brainworms.

thank you for the lovely message and prompt and for enjoying my writing! hope u love it <3

read on ao3 here

~~~

Summary:

NSFW, Rolan/Tav

"His hands curl into somatic shapes by his sides, and you realise he's speaking the incantation for Ice Storm. You're both backed into a corner like fish in a barrel, if he lets the spell loose you know you're done for.

You don't think. You shove your fingers into his mouth."

~~~

Rolan's temper lands you both in an alleyway, hiding from Flaming Fists, and you do what you have to in the name of shutting him up. In the end, neither of you stay very quiet.

~~~

Rolan has a fierce temper, when it comes down to it.

It surprises you somewhat, after seeing how he let Lorroaken walk all over him. Sure, he'd backed you and Aylin up when it mattered, but it had taken weeks for all of the bruises from the previous 'master of the tower' to heal. Though, you suppose you saw hints of it at Last Light, when Cal and Lia were missing.

It has its uses, admittedly. When you were ambushed by Bhaal worshippers in Bloomridge Park, and an innocent woman was struck down by one of them, his subsequent attacks were absolutely devastating. You could've stood back and left him to it, and he would've more than managed.

The fact he looks rather pretty when he's angry is an additional bonus; all tense muscles and sharp breaths. You blame your physical reaction to watching him fight on the fact he's the first male tiefling you've been around for an extended period in years. Your stupid infernal hindbrain had been telling you to bed him since he first raised his voice in front of you at the Grove.

Unfortunately, his temper has its downsides too. Like right now, for instance.

The two of you split from the group to search for Mol, who still hasn't turned up after being snatched from the inn in the Shadow-Cursed lands. Pairs made the most sense; more discreet than the whole troupe travelling together while still ensuring everyone had back up. Astarion had smirked when suggested you and Rolan pair up, arguing it looked less suspicious if the tieflings travelled together.

"If anyone asks, you can pretend you're lovers," he'd chortled. "Oh! And if you need to hide you can stuff yourselves into an alley and-".

You had elected not to let him finish that sentence, dragging Rolan away from camp before he had a chance to protest.

It had actually been reasonably pleasant. Despite initial impressions, Rolan is rather delightful company. Sure, he's still a dick, and nearly every other sentence that comes out of his mouth is an insult, but that just makes things more interesting. You'd found you were actually enjoying spending time with him.

Well. You had been. Until now.

It was your fault. You were distracted. He'd laughed at something you said, and you were busy looking at him. You could see a peek of his canines as he threw his head back, and the movement had pronounced the sharp line of his jaw and the muscle in his neck. You'd been so struck with the sight, and the awful realisation that you were actually starting to become attracted to him, that you'd smacked straight into the chest of a Flaming Fist.

"Oi! Devilspawn! Watch your fucking step!"

The man's voice was laced with malice. It's been years since you've been to Baldur's Gate, and it seems in your absence the city has become remarkably less tolerable. You suppose it's something to do with Elturel's descent, but the casually thrown slur stung either way.

"Sorry," you'd averted your gaze in a display of faux meekness. Usually you'd have him out on his arse for talking to you that way, but the streets are crowded and full of Fists. It's not worth the hassle. "Won't happen again, Manip."

"You sure as shit better hope it doesn't, or I'll put you and your Hellspawn boyfriend in the ground where you belong." He sneered around every word, flitting his eyes between you and Rolan. "Fucking foulblooded freak."

You'd grit your teeth, and started to nod, but just as the mercenary was about to step away Rolan had piped up.

"What the fuck did you call her? Watch your fucking mouth, Nul'zereb."

And now you're here. Next to a seething Rolan, in front of a Flaming Fist Sergeant, being slowly surrounded by other Fists as they take note of the commotion.

You raise your hands up in front of you defensively, "easy, please, he didn't mean it. We've had a long journey and-"

Rolan scoffs, seemingly intent on digging his own grave. "Bullshit , I meant every fucking word. They call us Foulbloods but these imbeciles probably can't tell a shit from a stew."

You shoot him a glare, but he doesn't look at you. Clearly he plans on dealing with this the hard way. Idiot. You feel your core twist. He's going to get you killed, for sure, but the fact he's willing to fight a crowd of people because they insulted you is unfairly attractive. Stupid. Dangerous. But really fucking attractive.

"You cheeky demon bastard!" The Fist shouts at him, and yep, the hard way it is. "I'll fucking flay you!"

Rolan is shouting back now, and his tail whips around violently behind him in a display of his mounting rage. "I'd like to see you try, you spoon-eared piece of-"

Okay, yep, that's more than enough of that.

You grab his wrist and utter the incantation for Dimension Door as quickly as you can manage, teleporting the both of you out of reach of the group of mercenaries surrounding you. As soon as your feet hit solid ground again you break into a sprint, dragging Rolan with you as he makes an indignant noise behind you. You hear the group shout, and the thunder of footsteps on the pavement as they pursue you.

Luckily, clad in robes compared to their metal plating, you and Rolan are quicker. You drag him through a few side streets, and then at the last minute you duck into an alleyway. It's a tight squeeze, but it's better than nothing.

You hiss your admonishments through your teeth at him in an attempt to keep your volume down. "What the fuck were you thinking, Rolan? I thought wizards were meant to be smart! You almost got us fucking killed!"

His eyes widen in shock, and he hisses through his teeth back at you as he argues. "Are you joking? What was I doing? You're the one that fucking walked into him! Besides, did you hear what he fucking called you? I can't believe you just-"

"Shut up!" He's raising his voice with every word and you have no idea how close behind you they are. "Of course I heard, but the middle of the street isn't the ideal spot to pick a fight with a group of Flaming Fists! They would've fucking flattened us!"

He scoffs, "as if, I fucking had them."

"Oh sure , sorry, I forgot how great and mighty you are. You obviously could've taken on a crowd of twelve blokes with military training."

He grits his teeth, "I still will if they fucking find us, what sort of hiding place is this anyway? If they spot us we're fucking cornered."

"You didn't give me much choice, did you? It's better this than-"

You cut yourself off at the sound of footsteps in the street. Rolan opens his mouth to say something but you place a finger over his lips to shush him. His mouth clamps shut reluctantly.

You can feel your heart beating in your ears as the footsteps get closer. They're right within earshot now, the slightest noise will alert them to where you are. You hold your breath.

Six of the Flaming Fists round the corner, and suddenly you're peering at them from the alley perpendicular to the street they stand in, barely 10ft away. You're shrouded by darkness, but if one of them happens to look this way carefully you're sure you'll be spotted. You daren't move.

You hear muttering and turn to look at Rolan, and you realise he's preparing a spell. His hands curl into somatic shapes by his sides, and you realise he's speaking the incantation for Ice Storm. You're both backed into a corner like fish in a barrel, if he lets the spell loose you know you're done for.

You don't think. You shove your fingers into his mouth.

His head whips back around to look at you, eyes wide in shock and anger. It suddenly dawns on you that. Well. You've got your fingers in his mouth. Three of them.

Not the most elegant solution to a problem you've come up with, that's for sure. But hey, it works.

He tries to draw back to free himself, and you can tell from his eyes that he's absolutely seething, but you can't risk him speaking and alerting the guards. You press your fingers down on his tongue and push them further into his mouth. His head backs into the wall, leaving him nowhere to go, and he writhes around the digits in his mouth. You press a little deeper. He makes a quiet, strangled noise in the back of his throat, before he finally resigns himself to his fate.

You stare back out of the mouth of the alley. The mercenaries are still there, pacing through the side-streets searching for you, but they haven't spotted you yet. After a few moments, they're all out of view, and you hear their voices disappear into the distance.

As soon as you can't hear them anymore, you let out a sigh of relief.

It's at this point you remember rather suddenly that your fingers are, in fact, buried in Rolan's throat.

You turn back to look at him.

He still looks angry, absolutely. But his eyes are softer around the edges, a little glazed over, and his tail whips around wildly where it's pinned behind him. He's panting a little around the digits, and you realise there's a weight against your thigh that wasn't there before. You raise your eyebrows and smirk.

"Is that a quarterstaff in your pocket, or are you just happy to see me?"

He scowls, and makes a noise as if he's trying to speak, but you press down a little harder on his tongue and it turns into a whine.

This is an interesting development. Not an unwelcome one, but definitely unexpected.

You feel the smirk on your face widen, "you know," you say, as if you're pondering something, "you're much less annoying with your mouth occupied."

He scowls, but his breathing harshens. You grin.

"This is the problem with wizards," you know you're goading him, but you can't help yourself. Your hindbrain has kicked in, and he's right where it wants him. "They're all talk, aren't they? Take away your hands or mouth and what are you? You couldn't even cast a simple cantrip right now, could you?"

He makes a noise like a growl, and you can feel yourself rapidly approaching the point of no return, but you're finding it hard to care with his length pushed rock hard against your leg. You push your weight against it experimentally, and he whines around your fingers.

"Gods, you make some pretty noises. You look fucking delicious when you're angry, you know that? Defending my honour in front of all those people, spitting infernal curses at them. You wanna be the only one who talks to me like that, huh?"

His eyes are locked on yours, and he hesitates.

"Go on, now, tell me the truth."

There's another brief moment of pause before he shuts his eyes and nods.

"Good boy." He groans at that, and the noise sends heat rushing to your core. "Maybe you'll get a chance, but not til I'm done with you. Wanted to fuck you since I heard your petulant grousing in the Grove, I'm gonna fucking enjoy this."

He's writhing against you now, seeking pressure against his erection, but you pull back enough that he can only brush against you. The noise he lets out is pitiful.

"Shit, Rolan. You look lovely like this. Mouth wrapped around my fingers, all needy and desperate underneath me. Suck my fingers, show me how much you want this."

He responds instantly, hollowing his cheeks around you and stroking the length of your fingers with his tongue. You moan at the feeling. His mouth is hot and warm and his tongue is enthusiastic in its movements. Your noise seems to spur him on, and his eyes roll into the back of his head as he closes them, redoubling his efforts as he works your digits. You can feel slick pooling in your small-clothes.

You adjust your stance, rearranging your bodies so that his cock is rubbing against you between your thighs. The friction is delicious, but not enough between all the layers of clothing you're both wearing. Even so, he still moans as you grind into him.

Undoing the clasps of his robes is difficult with just your non-dominant hand, but eventually you free him from the confines of his robe and undergarments, gripping his cock in your fist. The noise he makes is completely lecherous, and it has you tightening your grip and twisting your wrist on the upstroke. He's not sucking your fingers anymore, just moaning around them, but it doesn't matter. He sounds fucking obscene and you're completely addicted as you wrench every lewd noise you can from him.

He's grabbing at your own robes now, trying to undo them, but he's struggling between the movement of your hand on his cock and the distraction of your fingers on his tongue. You pull your hand from his mouth, and the minute you do he groans and pulls you into a bruising kiss. It's feral and uncoordinated, both of your hindbrain's completely running the show now, overcome with the need to rut into one another. You release your grip on his cock to give him better access to your own robes.

He makes quick work of them, pushing them out of the way and pulling your small-clothes to the side to rub his cock against your slit. You both groan, and you lean backwards into the wall behind you as you hoist a leg up to plant it on the wall opposite.

He leans into your ear, hissing in a low tone that has your walls fluttering, and you bring your hands up to clutch at his chest. "Is this why you really dragged us down here? You're that desperate for my cock that you have to accost me in an alleyway? Fucking sorcerers. So full of yourself, when what you really need to be full of is a nice fat knot."

You moan wantonly and he groans against the shell of your ear, rubbing himself against your clit. The action has you keening.

"Gods, Tav, you're fucking dripping. Not sure you even deserve anything after pissing around like that earlier. Tell me how much you want my knot, maybe then I'll consider giving you it."

The logical part of your brain knows he's as desperate as you are, hard and heavy against your core, but the feral infernal instincts that have taken over would rather die than risk him stepping away without fucking you. The words spill from you easily without a second thought.

"I fucking need it, Rolan, need your fucking cock in me. Need you to bite me and mark me up while you split me open on your knot, need your cum inside me."

He teases his cock against your entrance, but he doesn't sink in. His words are breathless. "Yeah? Yeah you need it? Need my knot?"

You wail, "yes, fuck, please I fucking need it. Had me so wet, defending me like that, wanted to mount you then and there-".

The noise he makes is absolutely ruinous, and you moan back in answer. There is absolutely zero upper brain function going on in your skull anymore, you need him to fuck you into this wall right now or you might actually die.

He seems to feel the same, and slowly he eases his length into you. He buries his face into your neck and you wail and shudder as you feel the ridges on his cock drag against your walls with every inch he sinks further. By the time he's sheathed fully inside of you, his pelvis against yours, you're panting and writhing around him. His tail reaches around and wraps around yours, and they snake together in a tight coil.

He's shown remarkable restraint given the circumstances, sinking his cock into you slowly, but as soon as you clench your muscles around him his resolve snaps. He pulls his hips back and snaps them back into you, setting a brutal and rapid pace that has you sobbing. The angle, with your leg hoisted up, has every thrust hitting the soft spot inside your walls, and when you close your eyes at the sensation you swear you're seeing colours that don't exist, that's how intense and all-consuming the pleasure is.

He teases the soft skin at the base of your throat with his canines, and the sharp drag has you whining and baring your throat to him on impulse. It's pure instinct, your body begging for a mating bite, and he growls into your skin as he gives in to his own instincts and sinks his teeth into you.

The pain shoots through you like ice in your veins, but your mind and core sing . The pinch and sting is the perfect crescendo to the mounting pleasure, and with several shaky, panting moans you come undone around him, crying out as your whole body tremors. It's the most intense orgasm you've ever had, and your toes tingle as your release crashes over you.

He cries out, releasing his hold on your throat, and his hips stutter and pace falters as he chases after his own release. You feel his knot growing every time is catches against the rim of your cunt. Just as you start to cry at the feeling, half convinced it's going to rip you in half, he sinks it fully into you and it pulses and expands as he empties himself into you with a loud shout of pleasure. With every rope of hot spend he spills into you, his cock twitches hard into that perfect spot inside you, and without warning you're met with another orgasm which has you squeezing around him as he finishes. He groans at the feeling, low in his throat, and grinds himself into you as his cock finally gives its last, valiant pump of seed.

He groans into your neck, nosing his way up your throat and planting open mouthed kisses under your ear. You whine, and slowly lower your shaking leg back down to the floor. The change in position pushes his cock into you again, and you both grunt, overstimulated and spent. You stand there, locked together and panting for breath. He laves his tongue over the spot where he bit you, sucking a mark over it. The pain is almost too much, but the primitive part of you loves the feeling and you moan despite yourself.

There's silence after that. It stretches for a long moment as you both attempt to catch your breath, stuck together in the tight space of the alley with Rolan's knot keeping you tied together. When you speak, your voice comes out hoarse and blissed-out.

"I'm sorry for. You know. I didn't actually mean to, if you believe me."

He laughs into your throat, and rubs his nose into the pulse point under your ear in an uncharacteristically intimate gesture, "I'm not sure I do, but I'm not sure I particularly care anymore, to be frank."

You laugh too, "fair enough. I'd do it again, to be frank."

You both break down into warm, breathless laughter as you hold eachother. Slowly, you feel his knot shrink and he slides out of you. His spend gushes down your thighs, and he bends sideways to look, before moaning and throwing his head back against the wall behind him.

"That's absurdly hot. Fuck . You're lucky I just knotted you or I'd have you again right here."

You rub your thighs together, and whimper quietly, "I'd let you."

He moans again, "don't fucking say shit like that. That's not fair at all."

You shrug, "wasn't trying to be fair. If you don't like it, maybe you should do something about it."

He rolls his head forward to look at you, opening his eyes and levelling you with a hooded-eyed look that has your core pulsing. "Shut your mouth, or I'll have to shut it for you."

You shrug, then smirk. "I dare you."

In hindsight, you think Rolan was onto something earlier. Doing things the hard way is much more fun.

#bg3 #bg3 fanfiction #bg3 rolan #bg3 smut #bg3 fic #bg3 fanfic #baldur's gate 3 #bg3 fanfic prompt

[whiskey-tango-matcha]

City Slicker (m, allergies)

I present to you all: p0rn lmao. This is my first allergy fic in YEARS and it is literally just 2k of Elijah sneezing himself silly. It's a little messy, just fair warning. Hope you all (especially my allergy-hungry friends in my ask box) enjoy this - I certainly enjoyed writing it lmao.

cw: male snz, MESS

City Slicker

“What’s your favorite animal?”

“Greyson. I really am not in the mood to play twenty questions right now.”

“But I’m bored.”

Elijah sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose with one hand, the other held firmly on the steering wheel of the van. “What are you, a toddler?” he asked, replacing his hand so both were white-knuckling the steering wheel. “Play on your phone or something.”

“I’ve reached the end of the internet. Can we stop and get Starbucks?”

“Greyson, we’re in the middle of bum-fuck-nowhere. What do you want me to do, conjure up a Starbucks? You should’ve asked before we were out of the city.”

Greyson groaned loudly, living up to the toddler label his boss had bestowed upon him. “Great, so now I get to be bored and uncaffeinated.”

“I’m sure they’ll have some shitty folger’s or something when we get there,” Elijah said, prompting a loud, fake gag from Greyson. Elijah took a deep, calming breath in through his nose. “We’re almost there, you fucking brat.”

The event this weekend wasn’t one Elijah would have normally said yes to; it was a Farmhouse Retreat out in a rural part of New York State, and any town with fewer than a million people living in it tended to give him hives. Not to mention his irrational fear of farm animals – not that he’d ever actually seen one in person; the thought alone of a pig looking him in the eye was too disgusting for him to put into words. But, it was a paid event which was incredibly rare, and it was a celebrity getaway which meant buzz for the restaurant. Those were two difficult things to say no to.

Elijah’s phone signaled them to turn right, and when he did he and Greyson gasped in unison – this was no Podunk farmhouse getaway. The house itself was more of a farm mansion, twice the size of even the largest house Elijah had seen out in the Hampton's. The agriculture was meticulously kept, and the animals were grazing out in the tall grass – far enough away to escape any fear, but close enough to give the entire place a Fisher-Price-esque charm. Greyson whistled long and low as they parked next to the line of other caterer’s cars.

“Not in Kansas anymore, eh Dorothy?” the chef asked, yanking open the passenger side door and stepping out to stretch. Elijah couldn’t help but huff out a laugh as he opened his own door.

“Guess no – HTSCH!” Elijah wrenched to the side as he stepped out of the car. Clearly the air out here was too clean for his city-boy sensibilities. Greyson barked out a laugh from the other side of the van.

“Bless,” he called, pulling open the two trunk doors to start unloading their things. “I figured your systems would all start shutting down the moment you breathed in air that didn’t smell like piss.”

“Oh, like you’re any better,” Elijah said, starting towards the trunk to help his friend. “When’s the last time you chose to take a trip somewhere with no bar or coffee shop?”

“Obviously never, but I grew up in a shitty one-horse town,” Greyson said. “You’ve probably never even seen a cow in real life.”

Elijah’s face flamed, and Greyson howled. “Shut the fuck up,” Elijah grumbled, elbowing Greyson in the stomach and grabbing the decorations for their booth. Greyson doubled over with laughter, cupped his hands around his mouth, and shouted into the quiet farm air.

“CITY SLICKER! WE GOT OURSELVES A CITY SLICKER!”

“Greyson, shut up,” Elijah called, turning to face the chef. “People are paying to stay here, you fucking dickhead.”

“Alright, alright, sorry boss,” Greyson lamented. He pulled a few chafing dishes out of the back and hoisted them onto his shoulder. “Not my fault that it’s hilarious that your body hates fresh air.”

“It doesn’t – hhITZCH! TSHH! HTSH!” Elijah crushed his nose into his shoulder to sneeze this time, prompting another round of laughter from Greyson.

“Sure it doesn’t,” Greyson said, passing his boss to head towards the sign directing the purveyors to the massive yard of the farmhouse. “City slicker.”

***

Something was happening – he didn’t know what it was, but he did not like it.

“Are you sure you’re okay? Like, I know I was making fun of you before, but are you sick?” Greyson asked as Elijah buried his face in his arm for the fiftieth time that hour.

“HTSHH! Hh-ITZCHH! HRSHH!” Elijah wiped his running nose on his sleeve and cringed. He used his hand to attempt to wipe the sleeve of the watery mucus he’d left behind to no avail. “I’m not sick, I feel fine,” he said. “I don’t know what the fuck is wrong with me – HTSHH!”

Greyson slowly raised an eyebrow, covered his finished food so it would stay fresh for the first guests’ arrival in thirty minutes, and leaned against their booth. “Lij, I’ve spent a lot of time around you – you literally never sneeze this much unless you’re sick.”

“Grey, I’ve been completely fine up until we got here, are you saying the fucking fresh air made me sick? Do you think I’m some sort of nega-Victorian child, instead of needing the fresh air to clear up my scarlet fever I need the sweet smell of street hotdogs and sewage? Hhuhh’ITSCHH-ue! TSHH! ITZCHUE! Fucking hell.” Elijah covered his face with a hand and looked desperately around for something to wipe it with. Grudgingly, Greyson handed him one of his kitchen towels. “Thanks,” Elijah muttered, blowing his nose.

“Y’know,” Greyson said, “normally I would say that yes, you are the nega-Victorian child, but I don’t think you’re lying.”

“Thanks,” Elijah said, rolling his eyes from behind the towel.

“For once.”

Elijah flipped the chef off.

Greyson laughed. “Seriously, though, have you ever been on a farm before?”

Elijah threw his hands into the air, annoyed. “No, Greyson, I’ve never been on a farm. Happy? Yes, I’m a fuckin’ liberal-elite city-slicking dickhead. Happy?” He sniffled lightly, post-tirade, his nose already itching again with the need to – to -

“HTSHH! HRSHH! Huh! TSHHH! HRSHH-uh! ITZCHH-ue! Huh!” Elijah pressed the back of his hand hard into his nose to stop the stream of sneezes – the other caterers had to be staring at him. He was sure of it.

Greyson bit his cheek to keep from laughing. “Lij,” he said, placing a careful hand on his boss’s shoulder. “I think you’re allergic to this farm.”

Elijah blinked back itchy tears. He rubbed his nose on the towel, sniffled lightly, and looked around him – at the animals he’d never been near before, the grass he’d only been around when it was perfectly manicured for a lawn or fake, the trees with their yellow pollen floating in the wind. “Oh,” he said. “I… I mean, I’m not allergic to anything.”

“Not allergic to anything you’ve been around before,” Greyson corrected, a shit-eating grin slapped across his face.

Elijah pressed two fingers into his itching, swelling right eye. “Yeah,” he said, taking in the allergen-ladled scenery. “I guess you’re right.”

Greyson motioned towards the back doors of the farmhouse, where throngs of people were beginning to head towards the booths of food. “I’d offer to ask the host for an antihistamine,” he said, “but I think it might be showtime.”

Elijah watched the crowd with a mix of anxiety and abject horror. This walk-around event was two hours long, and he couldn’t go two minutes without sneezing. “Fuck me,” he muttered, shoving the towel behind their booth and sniffling. “Hhh-! HTSSHH! HRRISHH!”

“Get it together, man,” Greyson said, unwrapping his food and setting out tiny plates. “It’s showtime.”

***

By the time the event was over and the guests had filed back into the farmhouse for whatever rich person activity they had planned for the evening, Elijah had quite literally sneezed himself hoarse.

“Dude,” Greyson said as he piled their things back into the containers they’d brought with them, “maybe you should go sit down for awhile.”

Elijah turned to the chef, rubbing his nearly-swollen-shut eye, and gave him the dirtiest look he could muster. “Sit where, Chef? In the grass that’s trying to kill me, or under the tree that’s trying to kill mehhh – ETSCHH-ue! ESHHH! HRTSHH-uhh! HTSHH! TSHH! ITZCH-ue! Guhh…” Elijah had given up the facade and moved from sneezing helplessly into his sleeve to sneezing directly onto the ground, hands braced on his knees so as not to pass out from dizziness. Greyson cringed as his boss wiped a string of snot from his nose with the back of his hand – this was about to be a long drive back to the city.

“I meant in the car, Lij,” Greyson said, not-so-subtly handing Elijah his last clean kitchen towel. The GM took it, grateful, and wiped his nose, which seemingly subconsciously turned into a long, congested nose blow.

“Fuck, sorry, my brain isn’t fucking working,” Elijah muttered, clearing his throat. “I can’t fucking stop – HRRSHH-ue! Snee – HTSH! HRSSH! ITZSSCHUE! Hhh!” Elijah cringed into the now-soiled kitchen towel, delicately wiped his nose, and folded it up. “You don’t have another one of those by chance, do you?” he asked, breath already hitching once again.

“Sorry, boss,” Greyson winced. “Last one.”

Elijah nodded, somber. “Yeah, I’ll go waii – huh… snf. Wait in the cah – HUHHITSZHH-ue! ITSSZHH-uh! Huh! HTSHH! HuhhhITSZZHH-ue!” Elijah once again turned away from Greyson to sneeze towards the ground. Each one sounded more desperate, more painful than the last. Greyson had literally never seen his boss so… well… affected.

“Hey, sorry to interrupt,” a voice from behind the both of them said. Greyson whipped around as Elijah attended to his nose. It was one of the other chefs, smiling in sympathy and holding a pink package. “I wanted to see if he needed some Benadryl. I mean, it’s not non-drowsy, but since the event is over I figured -”

“Yes,” Greyson said without consulting Elijah. “Yes, one million percent.” He took the Benadryl out of the other man’s hand and placed a grateful hand on his shoulder. “Thank you so much.”

The other chef laughed in earnest, took a peek over at Elijah, then regarded Greyson again. “I remember my first farm trip,” he said. Greyson bit back a laugh.

“Something similar?”

“You could say that.”

Greyson smiled and patted the man’s shoulder. “Thank you again. Seriously, here’s my card – stop by anytime for dinner on me. You just saved me from five hours of breathing in his fuckin’ mucus.”

The man laughed again. “Anytime,” he said, taking the card from Greyson’s hand. “And I think I’ll take you up on that. You guys in the city?”

“Lucky guess,” Greyson said. The other chef smiled.

“See you around,” he said, heading towards his truck. Greyson popped a pink pill out of its packaging and placed a rough hand on his boss’s shoulder. Elijah, obviously gearing up for another fit of sneezes, turned and saw, almost instinctively, the pill in Greyson’s hand.

“Oh thank god,” Elijah gasped, snatching the Benadryl and choking it down dry. Greyson snorted out a laugh.

“Now you really need to go sit in the car,” he said as Elijah wiped his raw nose for the millionth time.

“Wha - ? Why, what was that?”

“Benadryl, you pill-fiend,” Greyson said, showing his boss the packaging. “Can’t sneeze if you’re passed out.”

“At this point I would’ve taken a lobotomy if it stopped the snee – sneezi – HUTSHHH-ue! HRSH! HRSHHH! HTSHH! Hhuhhh… hh, hhh… huhhITSSZZH-ue!” Elijah, clearly too exhausted to even cover his mouth, just turned away and allowed the fit to happen, sneezes sprayed into the open, pollen-heavy air. He groaned and held a hand up to his streaming nose. Greyson sighed, took off his chef’s coat so he was just in a white cotton t-shirt, and handed it woefully to his boss.

“You owe me a new coat,” he said as Elijah, too exhausted to even feel shame, took the garment and held it to his face. “Now go to the car and go to sleep.”

“Yes, Cheehh – HRRTSHH-ue!”

#whiskeyswriting #snz #snzfic #snez #allergy fic #allergies #sneezefic #snzblr #snzfucker #snz kink #snz fet

[eyrina-avatar]

Kinktober

prompts: #11 restraints, #20 edging

pairing: adult neteyam x fem!reader

warnings: 18+ minors DNI, nsfw, smut, fingering. includes a footjob since reader is tied up so don't click if you're not into that lmao😭 (I know it sounds weird af but don't worry, no feet near mouth💀). Don’t take this the wrong way, I don’t have a foot fetish lol. proofread once

“Fuck, do you really have use this rope? I swear I’ll make it up to you!” You huffed out as Neteyam finished tying you up to a tree.

“No use in talking your way out of this yawne, you had it coming for you with your desperate behavior.” He clicked his tongue as he finished securing the last knot.

You squirmed as you tried to wiggle your wrists out, making Neteyam chuckle at the sight.

“Yea, good luck with that.”

You sighed as you accepted defeat, knowing that there was no way to get your hands free.

“You think teasing is nice, huh? Giggling and shit while you get me hard and then not acting on it? Let’s see if you still think so.” And with that Neteyam’s hands made their way down to your loin cloth, fingers playing with the thin string before untying it. Removing the cloth from your hips, his hand played with your thigh, rubbing circles as they approached your core.

A small sigh escaped your lips as his fingers ran around your clit, giving it a few rubs before making way down to your hole and dipping them in.

“All wet, already? So what is it, you get off by seeing me suffer, huh?”

You didn’t respond, too busy wanting him to finish what he started.

“Huh?” Neteyam held your chin up as he waited for a response.

“No…” He raised his eyebrow at your lie.

“Just a bit…” You trailed off.

“I thought so.” Neteyam brought his hand up to his mouth, spitting before he brought it down to your clit and started rubbing.

You couldn’t help but whimper as your already throbbing cunt was being played with.

“Feels so good…” you sighed as the need for more friction grew stronger and the pace of your boyfriend’s hand moved faster.

“Fuck…” you hissed as you threw your head back, legs threatening to shut as your heat started to spread.

“You like that?” Neteyam questioned as you barely managed to shake your head up and down in response.

“F-faster…” you begged as you felt a knot grow in your stomach. His fingers worked as fast as they could as they started rubbing against your nerves harder, heightening your sensitivity.

“Close?” Neteyam smirked as he watched you whimper in your fucked out state.

“Fuck yes!” Your mouth dropped open as your high drew closer and his fingers kept up at an almost impossible pace.

“I think I’m gonna… I’m gonna…” Your moans were interrupted as Neteyam stopped his fingers and pulled them away from your core.

“Why the fuck did you stop?” You tried to reach down to help yourself but were pulled back by the rope tying your hands together.

“Fucking rope.” You muttered to yourself

“How’s that for teasing, huh?” Neteyam smirked at what he thought was a genius plan for payback.

“No, no, no. You can’t be serious, I was so close, what the hell?” You squirmed as you tried rubbing your legs together for as much as you could but it was no avail, your inbounding orgasm had already fallen flat.

“What’s that yawne, didn’t like the taste of your own medicine?” He mockingly cooed at your distraught expression.

“At least untie me so I can finish myself off, dammit. Don’t be a bitch!”

“Look who’s talking.” Neteyam chuckled at your choice of words.

“Fuck you!”

“I’d like to see you try.”

Perhaps you were nuts, but your anger made you determined to get “revenge.”And with your hands currently tied up, you had no choice but to use the only other choice available. You smirked, surely Neteyam wouldn’t have expected to have the tables turn on him, no?

You poked his crotch with your foot, not going too far as to just check his reaction.

“Ha, good luck with that. If you’re thinking about using your feet, then I’d like to see you try.” He smirked as he inched forward, cockiness overfilling him.

Luckily for you, his loincloth was already off from your previous teasing with no action that had led to you being tied up.

You sat up and got straight to work, using one foot to hold his cock in place as the other rubbed him up and down while waiting for him to become erect.

“I doubt you’ll get the outcome you’re looking for.” Neteyam chuckled as he watched you struggle trying to get him off. In fact, he even started to feel bad enough that he considered untying your hands but decided not to, interested in seeing how far you would get.

“Yea, that’s not what I’m seeing. Looks like your little friend is kinda excited.” You smirked as his length grew hard before your eyes.

“Whatever…”

You worked hard in steading yourself as both of your feet pumped him up and down, earning a low groan from your lover. You fought the grin that was growing on your face as your pace increased and you his expression.

“So, how am I doing?” Neteyam didn’t answer.

You stopped, pulling your feet away from him.

“Back to work.” Was all he responded before he pulled your legs closer.

Your feet rubbed him up and down and you watched as his face contoured, eyes screwing shut and his breaths increased and his chest began to heave up and down.

Neteyam’s mouth dropped open as his hands held him up from behind.

“Fuck…” He let out out in a barely audible whisper.

You let out a light chuckle as you continued, doing your best to work him up. Neteyam breaths grew heavy and he swore that he could almost see heaven itself as his high lingered in a not so far distance. Perhaps it was because you were mad but your pace today was unusually harsh, almost bringing him over the edge.

“Oh shit….”

“Close?” You cocked your head innocently at him as you waited for a response. He shook his head up and down as he swallowed hard, feeling his high draw painfully near.

You kept going and knew he was close as you felt his cock lightly twitch in your hold.

“Fuck, I’m gonna come. Don’t stop!” You continued pumping him up and down as fast as you could.

“Ah, ha ha.. I’m gonna-” You stopped in your tracks, removing your feet and folding them under your lap as if nothing.

“What the fuck, why’d you stop?” Neteyam stared at you, mouth open in shock.

“Why’d you stop?” You mocked as you smirked at him.

“Ohh. I see how it is.” Neteyam got up and untied your hands, letting them drop to your sides.

“What’s wrong, not what you expected?” You raised your eyebrows in a cocky manner at him.

“Nah, you’re just in for a rough night, sweetheart.”

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

Made this last minute as I had no new kinktober content for this week.

If you see any grammar/post errors lmk, I proofread this thing only once so some words are just bound to repeat.

as always, comments/reblogs are always much appreciated as they help support and motivate your favorite writers, thank you!

tags: @daeneeryss , @eyweveng , @vee1728 , @pandoraslxna

@justonesadlonelymoth @skywonder

do not steal my work and please don't post it on ao3 or wattpad

© eyrina-avatar

colors used: {29, 157, 238} and {31, 87, 255}

#LunasKinktober2023 #avatar kinktober #neteyam smut #neteyam #neteyam x reader #avatar #avatar smut #avatar the way of water #neteyam x you #neteyam sully #avatar 2 #avatar way of water #awow #neteyam fic #neteyam x y/n #neteyam x avatar!reader #neteyam x omaticaya!reader #neteyam imagine #neteyam x female reader #avatar neteyam #neteyam x reader smut #awow imagines #na’vi smut #avatar twow #avatar imagine #neteyam fluff #neteyam sully x reader #avatarkinktober #pandorakinktober #neteyamkinktober

[thrawns-babygirl]

Hey, can i put in request for our snarky hotshot?

I saw this prompt somewhere and really liked it

“want a massage? i’ve been told that i’m..very good with my hands” and if you’re bored it can lead to some dirty dirty? If that’s the case, body worship maybe? TY soo very much <3

Sorry this took so long lmao. Moving house has been KILLING me. I loved writing this and I hope I did the prompt justice :)

And yes I will continue writing Medic!Reader. Doc is just the perfect gender neutral nickname I am a sucker for when the fic writes itself. No I will not stop and no one can make me.

Crosshair x GN!Reader

(This is my first time attempting to write an actual GN penetration fic so lemme know if it leans to heavily in one way or another. It can be read as either PiA or PiV imo)

Rating: E (18+) Warnings: Unprotected sex, creampie Word Count: 1700+

Masterlist

Crosshair was loitering again. It wasn’t an uncommon thing; he wasn’t exactly subtle about being soft on you. It was a source of constant teasing from his brothers, much to his chagrin. He was very firm about it “No I do not have a ‘crush’ on the doctor Wrecker, grow up” or “they’re just so fun to tease” which would result in knowing looks shared between his brothers as he stormed off to loiter in your office as you finished paperwork.

Today was no different.

You were hunched over your desk, trying to finish off the last of the medical reports so that you could get to sleep at a reasonable hour for a change as you were once again interrupted by the drawl of a certain handsome sniper.

“Your posture is terrible, that’s gotta be bad on your back” you look over to where Crosshair is leaning against the wall of your office, arms crossed over his chest still clad in his armor moving the ever-present toothpick in his mouth from one side to the other. Fixing him with a scowl you adjust your posture slightly before replying “Well no one is asking you to hang around and berate me about it, don’t you have someone else you would rather annoy?” he hits you with his trademark smirk “No”.

You simply sigh before getting back to your work. You try to ignore him, honestly you do, but it’s difficult. His presence is a source of constant conflict for you, he is devilishly handsome, and he knows it. He enjoys flustering you with flirtatious comments and small touches when the situation allows, he enjoys the way you blush and stumble over your words at his teasing, he enjoys it far too much.

You grunt softly as rub your back, maybe he did have a good point. Your back was sore, your eyes were tired, and you wanted nothing more than to go back to your quarters, take a hot shower and fall into your semi-comfortable bed.

“Told you so” you can almost hear the smirk in his voice as he moves off the wall towards you. You sigh and shut off your terminal before glancing over at Crosshair who is now standing behind you, looming over you with his imposing height. “I’m heading back to my quarters Cross, go find someone else to piss off” you tried to snap at him, but your voice just sounded exhausted instead as you rub your shoulders. You stand up and leave towards the direction of your room, attempting to ignore the sniper who was following you.

“You know…” he starts as you look over your shoulder at him, raising an eyebrow “I’ve been told that I’m very good with my hands, if you want a massage” you think about the offer, wondering if this is a joke or if one of you has actually taken the final step in this ‘will they wont they’ situation you’ve found yourselves in. Deciding to throw caution to the wind you simply nod and lead the way to your quarters.

Once inside you feel a little unsure of how to proceed, you never really thought either of you would take this final step towards… whatever it is that’s happening right now, and you never thought this far ahead. You decide to lay down on your bed, face in your pillows as you hear some shuffling from Crosshair behind you.

You feel Crosshair’s long toned legs against your thighs, something that is decidedly not the hard jab of plastoid and you lift your head up to look behind you only to be greeted with the sight of Crosshair in only the bottom half of his blacks straddling your thighs busying himself with a small packet of lubricant that look eerily familiar. “Did… did you swipe that from my office?” you move your head back down into the pillows to stop Crosshair from seeing your blush as he tuts “where else would I have gotten it?” you decide not to question it as you feel his hands under the hem of your shirt. “You gotta take this off doc, I need room to work” you silently follow his command as you shift and allow him to help you remove your shirt. Ignoring the burning heat in your face as you lay your head against your arms on your pillow.

You shudder slightly as you hear him open the packet and rub his hands together, successfully stifling an embarrassingly desperate moan as his hands make contact with your back. He wasn’t kidding, he is really good with his hands. You feel all your tension leave you as he runs his hands along your back, working through the knots and kinks in your muscles as you feel yourself melting into the mattress.

He works his hands lower until his fingers are digging into your hips as his thumbs work on a particularly tense area of your lower back. You fail to stifle your moan this time, you also fail to notice the sharp inhale and movement of Crosshairs hips to the sound. You’re lost in the bliss of Crosshair’s hands as he finally breaks the silence that has settled over the two of you “You know doc… I think I could get better access if you moved your pants down a little” you both know this is probably untrue, but at this point you really don’t care. The two of you have been moving around this for far too long and if this is what it takes for you to finally step over the line, you’re more than ready. You nod as you feel Crosshair’s hands snake their way under your pants and underwear, pulling them down slowly as he reveals more of your skin to him.

“You’re… stunning doc” his voice is breathy with a barely contained desire as he runs his hands down over your bare skin, running his fingers over the flesh of your ass kneading the soft skin before he leans down and starts trailing a line of kisses down your back. “You have no idea how badly I’ve wanted this… wanted you” he continues pulling your pants down further. “I need you to tell me you want this too” his voice has dropped into a breathy whisper as he speaks to you.

You raise your head slightly to look behind you, his face and chest are dusted with a light blush, his eyes are blown wide with lust and there is a very prominent bulge in his blacks. You nod, wetting your lips as you find the words “yes… yes I want this too”. You watch as Crosshair lets out a shuddered exhale and moves to find the leftover lube from the packet before placing your head back into your pillow.

“Just lie back and enjoy Doc…” his voice is husky as he returns his hands to your body, running them along your thighs up towards the swell of your ass, placing kisses along your back, his stubble sending tingles through your body as he brings his now slick fingers to your entrance. You tense slightly as he slowly pushes a single finger inside you, pumping it in and out for a bit before adding a second scissoring them slightly. “Fuuuck… you’re so tight doc… can’t wait to feel you around my cock” you shudder at his voice, the feeling of his long fingers filling you up, soft moans falling from your lips as he moves the digits in and out of your tight entrance.

You whimper slightly at the feeling of his fingers leaving you, only to take a sharp inhale as you feel him move behind you, removing the bottom half of his blacks. You steal another quick glance behind you and gasp at the sight of him.

He’s huge, long and thick with precum beading at the tip. You watch as he pours the remainder of the lube onto his length, giving himself a few strokes before leaning over you, one hand beside your head as he uses the other to line himself up with your prepped hole. You moan as you feel the blunt head of his cock press against you before slowly pressing in. The sounds he makes as he slowly feeds his length inside you are utterly sinful, a long groan of your name leaves his lips as he holds himself above you with both arms, panting softly.

“Fuck… Doc you’re so fucking tight. You take my cock so well” his voice is shaky, as if he’s trying to hold himself back from slamming his hips into yours with reckless abandon. You turn your head again and nod, hoping that he gets the hint that he can start moving.

He does, his first thrusts are slow, tentative, gauging your reactions before he begins picking up the pace at your soft moans of his name. It’s not long before he’s moving his hips into yours, ripping pornographic moans from your chest that you would probably be embarrassed about if you weren’t so thoroughly engulphed in pleasure.

“Fuck just like that, you have no idea how long I’ve been wanting this Doc… You’re fucking perfect” he lets out another long groan as he fucks you with reckless abandon, the head of his cock hitting that perfect spot inside you repeatedly, bringing you closer and closer towards your release. His rhythm begins to faulter slightly as his breathing gets heavier “where...?” his voice is strained as he holds himself back from the edge “inside” you let out one long moan of his name as your climax washes over you, your legs shaking from pleasure as Crosshair slams his hips inside of you a few more times before letting out a sinful moan as his cock throbs and he finishes inside you, filling you with his cum.

He leans down against your back as you both pant, attempting to catch your breath, both of your bodies covered in a thin layer of sweat as you bask in your afterglows. He pulls his softening length out of you before disappearing to the refresher to grab you a damp towel, throwing it at you as he places a toothpick in his mouth.

“Not a word of this to my brothers. If I have to hear ‘I told you so’ from Hunter I’ll deck him”  

@where-is-my-mind-tho @antishadow2021 @healingskywalker @crosshairlovebot@ilovestarwarsmen725 @vincentferard

#bad batch crosshair #tbb crosshair #crosshair smut #crosshair x reader #crosshair x reader smut #crosshair x you #tbb crosshair smut #bad batch crosshair smut #bad batch x reader #bad batch x reader smut #the bad batch crosshair #crosshair #tbb smut #bad batch smut #the bad batch smut #tbb x reader

[narcolini]

ending the night

angel reyes x gn!reader, comfort/fluff, 1982 words

warnings for descriptions of vomiting

for day 12 of whumpril, using the alternate prompt: foodpoisoning 

a/n: honestly, this is whump in the same way dessert pizza is pizza... sweet but not really deserving of the name LMAO anyway. when in doubt write angel having a hard time, am i right ? 

tagging: @cositapreciosa @drabbles-mc @hausofmamadas​ 

You’re sitting on the edge of Angel’s tub, finishing up a final text to his brother, from his phone, not yours, while Angel empties his stomach into the toilet again. You’ve lost track of how many times he’s puked now, but it’s enough times to know that your evening is well and truly over. He had barely made it from the taxi to the house when you got here, and has said almost nothing since you’d found him in the bathroom, knees to the linoleum.

Not that you mind. Not that you expect anything from him at all, in this state. If anything, you feel bad for being so helpless. And for not being sick yourself, weirdly, but that’s just how the straws were pulled. Beyond the water you’ve left for him on the counter, and the company, there’s nothing else you can do. You’ve already opened the window behind, invited cool air to draw in and, more importantly, the sharp smell of vomit to draw out. Texting EZ as if you were him, had been your most recent idea; a last ditch attempt to be productive and to improve the already dire circumstances.

‘Well,’ you announce, clicking Angel’s phone shut, ‘EZ says he can swing by the restaurant and get your bike.’ You watch him nod, head bouncing between in the hole of the toilet seat. ‘And I told him it was me that got sick, so he can’t clown you about it later.’

He laughs, all breath, and it echoes around the porcelain. ‘Thanks.’

You smile. He can’t say that you don’t look out for him, even this early into things. Five, six, dates down—formal ones, anyway—and you’ve skipped right to the in sickness part. Which you’re doing pretty well at, all things considered.

‘I can,’ he starts, pausing to swallow in-between, ‘pay you back. For the Uber.’

You shake your head. ‘Forget it. You got the bill.’ And he’s paying twice for that too, with money and stomach lining. ‘You think it was the chicken?’

He sighs, daring to look back at you briefly, forearms on the seat. ‘No idea. Shit tastes like battery acid now.’

You wince. ‘I wish I could make it stop for you.’ You wish you could go back in time and make him choose the beef dish that you had, avoid all of this mess, and finish the drinks you’d had to abandon at the bar. ‘You want me to pass you the water?’

He shakes his head before spitting into the bowl, clearing his mouth of the last bout of sickness. You’re both waiting, really, to see if it will come again. Angel breathing slowly, audibly, catching his breath over the edge of the seat. You, staring at his shoulders like they might give you any warning of it.

The time between is getting longer, you think. A sign that the worst is done with. If he can make it twenty minutes, fifteen even, and keep down the water he drinks, then you can both relax.

‘Fuck,’ he pants, wiping his nose and mouth with the back of his hand. He slumps away from the toilet, to sit on the floor instead with his back to the tub. Arm side by side with your shin. ‘I never looked this good, right?’

‘Oh, yeah,’ you nod, ‘big time. I’m practically tearing my clothes off right now.’

He groans, dropping his head to put it against your knee. ‘Can’t believe you stuck around to watch me hurl, dulce.’

‘I stuck around,’ you emphasise, ‘to help.’ You smile, glad he can’t see from where he is, because he’s too vulnerable right now, and he might think that you’re laughing at him. ‘I’m actively trying not to watch.’

He exhales, pushing it through his lips. ‘Shit, I’m sorry. Was supposed to a good fucking night, y’know, fancy restaurant and shit, drinks.’  

‘It’s not your fault.’ You pat his head, smoothing your thumb over the shell of his ear. ‘We should probably tell the restaurant, though, because it’s definitely their fault.’

And we deserve a refund, you think, but you don’t say it, because he’ll take that to mean that you didn’t enjoy yourself at all. Right now, he would probably take you standing up to stretch as a cue that you’re gonna leave, sick of him already.

‘You think you’re done?’ you ask, bending over your lap to find his gaze.

He sits upright to help you, then nods, and his eyes flick to your lips momentarily. It’s rare that you’d be so close to one another, and able to resist a kiss, but right now’s an exception. You smile, knowing that he’s thinking it too, seeing the yeah, I get it, in his returning look.

‘Give me a minute,’ he says. ‘Gotta, y’know, make myself smell less like puke.’

‘Course.’ You opt for a kiss to his damp forehead before standing, as close to his mouth as you’ll chance for now.

You decide to wait for him in his room, legs hanging over the end of his bed as the shower cranks to life. It’s the first time you’ve been in here, which isn’t the introduction you had expected, a temporary waiting room while he washed the sick from his beard, but it’s a welcome expansion to your understanding of his home. You’ve been to his place before, but never made it past the couch. He has a preference for it, you think, at least in his own place. He’s had the pleasure of becoming well acquainted with your bedroom, ending the night there the last few times that you’ve met up.

It’s not awkward, being in here, but it is new. Foreign like a hotel room. Granted, a hotel room that someone’s already living in, from the full laundry basket, the used glasses on the side table. The unmade bed you’re perched on.  

It doesn’t seem like he was expecting you to be in here today, either. You should ask him about that. Is your place nicer, or is he just too lazy to clean, and simultaneously too proud to let you see his room as it is? You don’t think you’d mind either answer. It’s nice, really. Clean enough, and comfortable in a way that stops you from feeling shy. If you weren’t waiting for the tell-tale signs of more illness, you’d probably lie back, uninvited, and crawl under the covers like it was your bed already.

After a few minutes, the bathroom door cracks open, steam pouring out of it. He must’ve had the quickest shower he could manage, only long enough to douse the sweat and stench off him, and then out again, dressed in just the jeans from before.

He looks exhausted, so tired and disposed of energy, that you can’t even enjoy the sight of him. His bare chest, the tattoos striking across it. You just about fight the urge to throw your arms out and beckon him forward with grabbing, baby hands, because, oh, he looks so helpless, it hurts.

‘Don’t think I got any shit left in me to throw up,’ he grumbles, dragging himself forward.

‘That’s good.’ You throw him a sympathetic smile. ‘Means you’re over the worst of it.’

He makes a sour face, hand lifting to rub over his stomach. ‘Doesn’t feel like it.’

‘You should probably rest then.’

You didn’t think he could look any more sorry for himself, but that does it, that tugs it out of him. His brows sink even further as he nods, unable to argue that he doesn’t need it, but unable to seem keen on it either.

‘Sorry,’ he says, for the tenth time, ‘I ruined our night.’

You roll your eyes quickly. ‘Who says it’s ruined? We’ve got…’ You find the alarm clock, red numbers glowing in the dim room. ‘At least, what, twelve hours before I gotta leave for work?’

And that’s what the extra sulking was for; he really thought you were gonna dip and leave him here to recover alone. He doesn’t realise that if he wasn’t worth looking after, you would’ve left him at the bar, blowing chunks in the stall.

‘You’re staying?’ he asks

‘You’re sick as a dog, Angel. It’d be actual, like, neglect if I left you right now.’

He sighs, finally letting himself collapse on the bed behind you. When you turn, he’s got his eyes squeezed shut, suffering from the bouncing mattress beneath—a misjudgement on his part. ‘If I wasn’t dying right now,’ he says, ‘I’d kiss you so damn hard.’

You laugh, crawling up the length to be beside him and slouch against the headboard. ‘And give me whatever you have? No thanks.’ You pull the cover free from under you, holding it open as you invite him in. ‘Come on,’ you say, ‘get comfy, chulo.’

He steals a look, opening just one of his eyes to see what you’re offering, before rolling into you, his head on your stomach, his arm threading beneath you and the mattress. You set the quilt down again, pulling it up until it’s covering your legs and his shoulders. Then your hand goes to his hair, natural like you do it nightly, rubbing circles around the crown of his head.

‘Hopefully that’s the last of it,’ you tell him.

He hums, speaking into the cotton of your shirt. ‘If I puke on you right now, I’ll kill myself.’

You laugh, bouncing his head with the force and surprise of it.

‘I’m dead serious, dulce, there’s no coming back from that shit. You’ll dump me before I’m even your boyfriend.’

You scoff, grinning still. ‘Not true,’ you argue. ‘But I would use it against you for the rest of time. Hey Angel,’ you tease, ‘remember when you spewed chicken teriyaki all over me?’

He laughs, but it weans off into a groan, his fingers tightening over your hip. ‘Stop talking,’ he pleads, ‘I can still taste that shit.’

And as funny as it is, you really don’t want to smell, or see, or feel, any more fucking vomit, so you oblige. It falls silent and you let it, fingers twirling in his hair still, disrupting the hold of his gel. He breaths evenly over your stomach, pooling warmth on the parts of your skin that the shirt fails to cover.

After a moment, you remember what he’d said afterwards, about breaking it off with him before you’ve officially gotten together. You smile into the question before you’ve even asked, ‘Do you want to be my boyfriend, Angel?’

He takes a moment to answer, and when he does, he’s mumbling it, talking around the ends of a yawn. 'We really gonna do this now?’

‘Yeah, sorry. Bad timing.’ But you’re smiling still, smirking even. Confident of the answer despite his protest. ‘I wouldn’t mind it, though. Just while we’re on the topic.’

The reply you expect doesn’t come, he doesn’t say anything at all. You try to look at him, but can’t bend far enough, not with his head resting as it is. You can just about see the thick black of his lashes, flicking out from closed eyes.

‘Angel?’

He groans, readjusting until he’s lay on your chest, with his arms wrapped tight around your middle. ‘Your boyfriend is very sleepy,’ he says, waking up just long enough to engage and send your heart-rate soaring. ‘Keep doing that shit with my hair,’ he mutters, adding a, ‘please,’ after a moments reflection.

You laugh, light and soft over the top of his head. ‘Yes, boss.’ You thread your fingers in again, as he asked you to, and trail them across his scalp. ‘I think I like you when you’re sick,’ you muse, basically whispering it now. ‘You’re way cuter.’

‘Mhmm,’ he hums, and that’s the last you get from him. He’s asleep before he can deny it.

#angel reyes #angel reyes x reader #angel reyes fanfic #mayans mc fanfic #whumpril2023 #i keep feeling bad that i want to just write angel in various situations but like.. #oh well lol #he is possessing my spirit and thats ok

[crinkled-emotions]

Day 26: Food coma naps

Requested! The initial prompt just requested Hangman, a food coma and either Bob or Rooster :)

Ship: Hangster

(I swear I'm going to write something else after this lmao)

-

“Guys, I really think we outdid ourselves this year. We’re gonna be eating leftovers for the next month.”

“Don’t worry about the leftovers; I don’t think my belt is ever going to do up again.”

Everyone laughed, beginning the clean up from Christmas lunch. They’d finished eating about half an hour ago and just remained at the table, talking and drinking. Amelia was with her father for the holidays so Penny and Maverick had offered to host the Daggers in attempt to distract themselves. Instead of Penny making all of the dishes, everyone had contributed and they’d mostly used paper plates and plastic cutlery so there wasn’t a ton of dishes or clean up to be done.

Hangman stretched in his seat, his hand finding Rooster’s back who was looking like he regretted that last serving of pie. To be fair, everyone was regretting their last slice of pie.

“C’mon, let’s clean up,” Coyote said. The Daggers stood and began bagging up the rubbish, waving off Penny and Maverick when they went to help.

“You hosted us; the least we can do is clean up a little,” Fanboy smiled. Whilst the others worked on getting things fixed up, Rooster and Hangman went into the kitchen to get through the minimal dishes needed to be done. Rooster rolled up his sleeves, preparing to wash whilst Hangman located a dry dishtowel. As Rooster washed Hangman methodically dried and stacked the dishes on the counter so Penny could put them away in their correct spot, talking quietly between themselves until Hangman stopped responding.

Rooster glanced over his shoulder.

“You good?”

“Yeah.”

He leaned against the counter, yawning quietly.

“Don’t you start,” Rooster groaned. Hangman grinned.

“Start what?”

“If you start yawning I’m gonna start yawning.”

“Oh c’mon, a little nap never hurt anyone.”

Hangman reached out, pulling Rooster toward him by the waist. Rooster huffed as he stepped into Hangman’s arms but he was smiling.

“A little nap? We both know it’s not little.”

The pair burst out laughing, Rooster pressing a kiss to Hangman’s temple before going back to the dishes.

“C’mon, let’s finish these and then you can nap.”

-

The others had already spread out across Penny and Maverick’s living area, leaving a loveseat for the two aviators to share. Rooster flopped down first but Hangman didn’t hesitate to sit on his lap which earned groans from around the room.

“Can you two not be in love for once?” Fanboy complained, Bob nodding.

“We just ate. Don’t make me nauseous.”

“Are you gonna rock him to sleep?” Phoenix snickered, to which Rooster shrugged but Hangman very quickly shook his head.

“As Bob said; we just ate. I wouldn’t if I were him.”

That being said, he did scoot to rest his head on Rooster’s shoulder. Rooster sucked in a breath, grasping his boyfriend’s arm.

“Jake, can you not-“

“-what are we watching?” Penny interrupted as Fanboy flicked through Netflix, trying to find a Christmas movie. He glanced over.

“How do you feel about the Guardians of the Galaxy Christmas movie?”

“We all know we’re gonna be asleep in five minutes anyway, might as well pass out to a great soundtrack,” Payback said. Bob glanced at Phoenix beside him, an amused smile crossing his features. She was already half asleep despite teasing Hangman for his food-coma-induced potential nap.

“You good?”

“Shut up.”

She lifted his arm to use his chest as a pillow and by the time the movie was starting she was asleep. Bob ran a hand over her back, moving in slow circles whilst the others all settled into the movie.

-

About halfway through the movie Rooster stirred, grimacing when he realised he couldn’t feel his legs. His arm was still across Jake’s waist, gently circling his hip. It appeared the others had also flaked, strewn across the living room and napping off their food comas. Rooster sighed, his hand reaching up to work his fingers through Hangman’s hair. Jake groaned, turning his face back toward the crook of Bradley’s neck and huffing at him.

“I was finally asleep, asshole,” he muttered. Rooster’s lips twitched upward in amusement as he kept his hand in Jake’s hair, scratching at the back of his neck. It made Hangman shiver, eyes falling closed again but Rooster poked him in the ribs.

“Don’t go back to sleep; c’mon, let’s go home, our bed is much more comfortable.”

“Pretty comfy here, don’t worry ‘bout it,” Jake replied. He shifted, pulling his arm out from where it had previously been tucked behind Rooster’s back for support. He dropped a kiss to Rooster’s forehead, standing and holding his hand out to him.

“Okay, let’s go home.”

Rooster grabbed his keys and wallet, then as an afterthought shoved them in his pocket to grab Hangman’s hand.

“C’mon, babe. If you fall asleep in the car just know I’m leaving you there.”

“You always say the most romantic things, Roos.”

-

The pair made a beeline for their bed, not even bothering to get under the covers before they flopped on top of it. Rooster pulled himself up to the pillows but Hangman stayed by his stomach, lifting Rooster’s shirt to blow a raspberry before he slung an arm over him. Rooster glanced down at him, an amused smile crossing his face.

“Is it comfortable down there?”

“It’ll do.”

“You’re gonna put your neck out; c’mere.”

Rooster put his hands under Hangman’s arms, suggesting he scoot up. Hangman groaned.

“You’re killing me.”

“Me? I think it might have been that last slice of pie.”

“It’s always the last slice of pie,” Jake yawned. He shifted up, letting Bradley press a kiss to his forehead before they went quiet. Rooster drifted back off to sleep but Jake stayed up a little longer, the earlier nap fixing the worst of the food coma. He glanced up at Rooster, already snoring his ass off, and he snorted.

“Happy holidays, B.”

-

#Top Gun: Maverick #Top Gun Maverick #TGM #Bradley Rooster Bradshaw #Bradley Bradshaw #Rooster #Callsign: Rooster #Jake Hangman Seresin #Jake Seresin #Hangman #Callsign: Hangman #Hangster #G's Dec 2023 Prompts!

[whorekneecentral]

kinktober - day 24: dad’s best friend // m.w

Mark Webber x Fem!Reader

Warnings: forced proximity, power imbalance sorta, age gap (reader is 20), teasing, alcohol and the consumption of, mentions of corruption, penetrative sex, fingering for like 0.2 seconds, ‘whore’ used in a sexual context, gagging,  nipple play (I guess ?) 

Word Count: 2,430

Author’s Note: now I don’t know if this counts as a kinktober prompt but take it or leave it besties // also I wrote this with no notes so please forgive me lmao and not proof read I’m lazy bye

kinktober 2022 masterlist

--- 

You had known him for as long as you can remember but the crush? That started this summer and spiralled into a secret you can’t take back now.

You've known him your whole life. Your dad's best friend, Mark Webber, the great Formula One driver.

You always just knew him as Mark, he never was anything else other than your dad's best friend and well, that was it. You two had a good relationship, he wasn't around very much due to his job but when he was, you laughed and smiled and he made you giggle like nobody else.

Your mother always just assumed that it was a childhood crush, that Mark peeked your fascination and that it was nothing more.

That was up until this weekend.

Mark was having something at his summer house, which was a bit odd to begin with because when you're in Australia every day of summer but I digress, your father was stuck in the city for a few more hours, left to work on his business proposal and your mother didn't want to leave him alone.

So they suggested that you go up ahead with Mark. You had known him your whole life so there was no harm in you travelling and spending a few hours alone with him.

Currently you were sitting on the front porch watching Mark lug the bags in through the front door. “You do know that we're only here for a few days right, darling?” He calls and you glance up from your phone, “do you really need all of this?” Mark lifts his arms, showing off the three bags you packed.

“I need variety.” You reply, going back to your phone. Mark puts the bags inside and when he walk back out, he snatches the phone from your hands and shoves it in his pocket.

“Mark!” You shout, running after him as he walks back to the car. He notices your hand reaching for his pocket so he takes the phone and holds it above his head. The man towered over you, looking down at you.

“Give it back!” You shout at him, jumping to try and grab the phone from him.

He didn't even have to try, his arm was up high enough that you couldn't reach it but he sure was enjoying the view. It was a hot day, and you decided that it would be a good idea to wear a pair of shorts and a tank top. So when you jump to get the phone, Mark couldn't help but notice the way your tits bounced; the thoughts running through his head were nothing but filthy.

This is wrong, he thinks. This is my best friend's kid, I've watched her grow up and I can't think of her like this.

But god, she's stunning.

Mark feels wrong just thinking it, he pushes the thought from his head.

“Go inside, it’s out. Turn on the air conditioning, I'll grab the last of the bags and come in.”

“Give me my phone.”

“Go inside.”

“Mark.”

“Y/n.” His tone is stern, the look he was giving you sent shivers down your spine. “Go inside.”

You roll your eyes, “fine.” You grumble, walking off towards the house. He can’t help but look at your figure, the way your clothes fit every curve of your body -- stop it, don’t look at her like that.

Mark slams the door, startling you when he comes in. “Want a beer?” You asked from the kitchen and Mark found his way there, “are you old enough to drink?”

“I’m offering it to you, old man. Not for me.”

Mark laughs, taking the beer from you. You hopped up on the counter, watching as he opened the bottle and took a sip. He tips the bottle towards you, “want some?”

“I don’t really drink.”

“Really? That time you asked me to pick you up says otherwise.” He laughs, taking another sip.

“Shut up,” you laughed, “that was one time.”

Mark takes a step closer, standing right next to you. The cold beer bottle sits on your thigh and you glance over at him, you can feel the water dripping down your thigh. “Sure you don’t want some? It is hot out,” he says and you hum, taking the bottle from him before taking a sip.

His hand reaches out, thumb passing over the wet spot on your thigh. He wipes it away and makes another pass over your thigh with the back of his head to dry off the remainder of the water.

“I’m gonna go for a swim,” you announce, getting off the counter and setting the bottle on the counter.

“Be safe,” he tells you, watching as you walk towards the back door. “I’m not a baby, Mark. I don’t need a warning before I get in the pool.”

“You’ll always be a baby.” He teases, earning a laugh from you. Mark watches as you slide the back door open, standing there for a moment before you peel off your top and head outside.

Okay, so maybe she wasn't a baby after all.

Mark stays inside, watching you from the kitchen window as he works on dinner. He watches as you get in and out, diving back into the pool before doing laps.

It was a few hours before he stepped out to find you.

“Come on,” he calls for you, crouching down by the end of the pool, the towel he brought out for you tossed over his shoulder. “Dinner’s ready.”

You swim up to the edge of the pool, your arms resting on the ledge as you look up at him. “I’m not hungry.”

“Did you eat breakfast?” “I woke up at noon, like right before you got me.”

“So all you had was iced coffee, you need to eat. C’mon.” Mark’s hand reaches out for yours to help you out of the pool but because he was crouched down, he falls in when you pull on his hand.

You bite back a smile when he comes back up to the surface. Mark passes a hand over his face, “what the hell.” He looks over at you and you can already tell what he's thinking.

Before he could grab you, you're out of the pool and running back into the house. Mark is right behind you, chasing you around the kitchen island. You nearly slip but Mark grabs you from behind, picking you up and spinning you around. There’s water dripping everywhere and your laughter fills his ears.  

When Mark puts you down, you turn to face him; chest pressed to his and his hands rested on your hips. “I uh- I should shower.” You mumble, looking up at him.

“Don’t take long, dinner will get cold.”

You step away, your hips cold without his touch and you head upstairs to take a quick shower; a very cold shower because the way you were feeling was wrong.

You grew up in front of him, you shouldn’t be thinking about him like that.

You can’t help it. The way he felt against you, his hands on your hips, your chest pressed to his.

You pushed out to remind and head downstairs for dinner after your shower. “Cute shirt,” Mark chuckles when you sit next to him on the couch. You set the bowl on your lap, stabbing the pasta with the fork before you glance down at your shirt.

“Oh,” your cheeks heat up, “thanks.”

The navy blue t-shirt was baggy, your shorts barely peeking out under it. The Red Bull insignia over your left tit. “I found it in dad’s room.”

“It's actually mine.” He laughs, “let him borrow it after a night out.”

“Oh.. do you want it back?” You ask, setting the bowl on the coffee table. Mark shook his head, his hand resting on your bare thigh, “looks better on you, darling.”

Your eyes are fixed on the man, you had conflicting feelings. You wanted him but you shouldn’t.

Mark can’t help but admire you. You were sitting there, all pretty and so innocent. He wanted nothing more than to ruin you.

It's like all the lights go off and you both have the same thought at the same time. Both you and Mark lean in but before your lips could meet, there's a knock on the door.

You get up before he could say anything, rushing to the door to open it. Your parents have arrived and Mark comes over to greet them. “What'd you guys do all day?” Your father asks and you shrug.

“I hung out in the pool.”

“Yeah I was cooking,” Mark says, neither of you mentioning the fall in the pool or the almost kiss.

The rest of the evening you were in your room watching Netflix while your parents and Mark caught up. Your mom came in to say good night to you telling you that she and father are tired so they are going to head to bed earlier and that you shouldn't stay up too late even though you were 20 years old, she still babied you.

It was quarter past two in the morning when you feel like you need to stretch your legs. You pull yourself off the bed, stretching before quietly stepping out of the bedroom. You wanted a snack but the door at the end catches your attention and you quietly walk towards the door.

You stop. Are you really doing this? You should leave.

The way he looked at you crossed your mind. The way his hands felt on you.

Before you could stop yourself, you push the door open, shutting it behind you quietly. The room was silent, Mark was sleeping.

“Hey,” you whisper, sitting onto the bed next to him. You nudged him in the side with your knee, “Mark?” You called out to him in a sing-song voice.

Mark stirs a little, rolling over and now facing away from you. You lean over his side, your hand pressed flat against his chest. “Markkkk,” you call, leaning down to kiss his arm.

That wakes him.

He groans, rubbing his eyes before glancing at the clock on the nightstand. “Y/n? What are you doing?” He asks, voice laced with sleep.

“Couldn’t sleep,” you shrug, laying beside him. Mark is laying flat on his back now, looking over at you. “Okay but why are you in my room?” His eyes are open now, fixed on you. The moonlight shines through the window, the sheer curtains did nothing to block out the white light.

You look over at the man, “I can’t stop thinking about you.” You admit. Mark doesn’t say anything but his hand rests on your hip, laying on his side and you follow suit, mirroring his actions.

Mark leans in, his lips barely touching yours. “I can’t stop thinking about you,” he repeats your words. You close the gap, kissing the man.

It was heavy, heated. His hands on your body, pulling you over and onto him. You were perched on his lap, Mark’s hands on your ass when he kisses you.

Not a word is spoken between the two of you, what little clothes you had on was gathered in a pile on the floor when he rolls you two over again. You were flat on your back, Mark settled between your legs.

“Are we-” you cut him off with a kiss. “Please,” your hand rested on his jaw, “Mark please.”

He nods, there wasn't much else to say. Not that anything makes sense at the moment, it was all physical. His hand slips between the two of you, his fingers rubbing slow circles on your clit. Your hips lift, wanting more from him.

Mark’s hand wandered a little lower, a finger pushed in slowly. He can feel how wet you are, wrapped around his finger and he smiles.

“All of this for me?” He asks, cocky as ever.

“God, just fuck me.” You mumble, not wanting to wait. You waited long enough.

“Do you think about me?” Mark asks, the tip of his cock rubbing over your clit. You bite back the urge to moan, looking up at him. He sees the confusion and expands on his question; “when you touch yourself, do you think of me?”

You smile, “do you think of me?”

Mark nods, barely pushing into you. “Always. I shouldn’t but I do.”

Your hands grip on his biceps, his lips finding yours when he pushes in all the way, muffling the moans that left your lips. “I do.” You finally answer him.

He pulls one of your legs up to hitch on his hip. “Fuck,” you breath, his thrusts faster and harder. How you wished you could scream his name right now. Mark’s hand drops between the two of you, rubbing your clit; matching the pace of his hips.

Your head falls back into the pillows when he hits the spot he was looking for. His fingers that were previous on your clit now shoved into your mouth to muffle the sounds tumbling from your lips.

Mark leans down, his lips next to your ear; “you have to be quiet, you don't want everyone to know what a whore you are, do you?”

You mumble something along an okay, your hips bucking, telling him you want more. Mark manages to flip you over once again, you're on top and his cock is still buried in you. He lets you take over, setting the pace and using him for your own pleasure. Mark wanted one thing and he leans forward, arms wrapped around you as his lips wrap around your nipple.

“Mark, fuck- please.” You mumble, your hand tangled in his dark hair as you bounced up and down. His tongue lapped over your nipple, biting on it softy; just enough to get you to arch your back, pushing into him.

“Come on darling,” he mumbles against your skin, now kissing up to your collarbone. Mark’s hand behind your neck to pull you down for a kiss. “Want you to cum for me.”

Mark’s arms wrap around you when you drop against him, your face buried against his shoulder, biting down to muffle the sounds. “Good girl,” he hums, rubbing your back.

You were both lying in bed now, facing the ceiling. Neither of you said a thing but instead laid there in silence. Mark’s hand found yours under the blanket, quietly interlocking fingers with you.

“Round two?” He asks, earning a laugh for you. You climb back over onto his lap, “round two.”

---- 

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#kinktober - anj's version #kinktober 2022 #mark webber #mark webber smut #mark webber x reader

[soporificshoebill]

One of my favorite thing about Amanda and Chanse is how on the same wavelenght they are with gross jokes. He often has an out of pocket sexual thing to say and she never shuts it down, she jumps right in, continues and sometimes pushes it too far for him and he recoils lmao. For examples: the synced YAY! when Tommy said "it's cum" in the last eioyi, the weird hand humping in the staring stream or them wanting to fake kiss at the same time on todays stream. She's the ultimate ally.

OKAY, LISTEN. Excellent point about them being in the same wavelength for dirty bits and the "ultimate ally" bit made me laugh. They feed off each other for sure.

But I really feel like I need to say. We CANNOT understate how much Amanda loves to make dirty jokes. She can match/outpace Chanse's energy for sexual jokes because Amanda Loves Making Sexual/Flirty/Dirty Jokes. Unprompted. There are multiple times where she's made a masturbation joke with zero prompting. The blowjob bit on that Smosh mouth. Amanda's single word prompts in the staring stream like. Ma'am Please. TNTL bits go dirty so fast. She said "do you know where your clitoris is" to Angela in Trivial Pursuit and then followed it up with "you can help me find mine." Loves a good flirting bit with any and all of her castmates. I know we (I) (amangela fans) are Unwell about her tendency to go for a kiss with Angela for a bit but lbr she does that with. A LOT of people. Zero hesitation. Amanda Simply Loves Going For The Dirty Joke, which. Is both great and terrible for my health. (and great fodder for shippers. amanda please).

That said: YES. She and Chanse i think really have such good synergy with bits and always elevating when together. And unfortunately (for me) that goes double/triple with dirty jokes. alas.

#smosh #amanda lehan canto #chanse mccrary #really and truly amanda is such a menace about dirty jokes. god if i ever have time maybe i should make that compilation #chamanda #ask tag #there was that one reddit post about courtney making too many dirty jokes and like yes the guys blah blah but also. amanda is RIGHT there. #i say this with the most affection btw. hope she never changes

[mitsuristoleme]

hi bbs

cant believe i hit 100 followers lmao

ok so i thought i'd do a little event thing because why not

you guys can send me request for any of the prompts (ill put them below) with any kny or jjk character

im using prompts from @me-writes-prompts from this and this post because i have no idea how to make my own

p.s. i will also write wlw and mlm if u want me to

prompts-

"You look so hot today, babe." "Hotter than yesterday?" "Hotter than yesterday."

Always finding ways to have fun i.e wearing costumes and playing around, hosting parties.

"If we were to fight, like in a fight fight, who do you think would win?" "Obviously, me. You would admit defeat the moment I punch you." "Hey, I'm not that easy!" "Oh, yes you are."

The late-night karaoke and dances

"You know what they say, love. Warriors don't go to war without their armor. Let's get ready." *their partner nods seriously and puts their work clothes on* "Gotta be prepared."

Taking random (not-so-good-looking) pictures of each other and their partner pretends to be mad before bursting into laughter.

"Oh, I really want this. It's so cute!" "Now, I know, you were only after my money. I've already bought you 50 of these damn ducks." *gasps and mockingly puts their hand on their mouth* "You found out my secret."

“Can we please go back to sleep? I’m tired.”

“My muscles are aching.” “They weren’t aching last night when we were…” “Shut up. That's exactly the reason why they are aching right now.”

“If you promise to carry me to the bathroom, I’ll get up.”

They don’t want to get up, but they do anyway, because their partner has made them their favourite breakfast

“Coffee time! Let’s get you out of bed.” “But-,” “No buts.”

Smooching them all over the face, because that’s the only thing that gets them to wake up

Whispering gently in their ear to wake them up

“We can shower together if you get up.”

“I don’t wanna go to work today, can we just cuddle? Please?” “Yeah, let’s do that.”

“I’m not kissing you until you get yourself off that bed and brush your teeth and shower.” “Unfair.” “No kisses for you then.” “Hey!”

“Wake up!!!” *sprays water on your face and laughs maniacally at your reaction*

check out my masterlist if you want to

dividers by @/cafekitsune

#kay's writing #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen #jjk #jujutsu kaisen x reader #gojo satoru #jjk fanfic #gojo satoru x reader #gojo x reader #geto suguru #jjk maki #maki zenin #jjk itadori #yuji itadori #yuuji x reader #megumi fushiguro #megumi x reader #ryomen sukuna x reader #ryomen sukuna #sukuna x reader #sukuna #toji x reader #toji fushiguro #jjk toji #demon slayer x reader #demon slayer #demon slayer fanfic #kny x reader #sanemi shinazugawa #sanemi shinaguzawa