#the pride belts are really funny to me in this moment i wanted them to be a different color so i was like | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

onedayimgonnasnap · 1 year

Note

I don’t know the rules but could you make every consort in CoD a how and why Mc is beating them up. And if she’d use the belt of chancla 🩴

(Ok so I’m gonna split this one into like 3 parts)

Funny thing is that despite being Hispanic my ass never got beat with a chancla. But I did get his with a belt so- 💀

MC Beating Each Prince with a Chancla

Warning: Inappropriate Language, Crack, a little bit of angst

Disclaimer: I do not condone hitting your partners or anything. Violence bad.

In the beginning of class Guy kept glaring at you and giving you an aggressive look towards you.

It freaked you out. But you also took it as a challenge so you proceeded to give him your scary face and have a staring contest, you then slowly took your sandal off your foot and grabbed it with your hand still maintaining eye contact with him.

You gave him a straight face as he “tsk” at you.

He then looked away, obviously annoyed thinking this was a waste of time.

You sadistically smiled proceeding to bash him in the head with the sandal. It stung his cheek and didn’t give him enough time to react.

Everyone gasped at the scene and you quickly tackled him to the grounded hitting him with the sandal

Rio had to pull him off, and Roy worriedly forced Guy out of the classroom so no one had to die.

Fenn was on his way flirting with Knight and getting too close to him.

You basically felt bad for the man.

So you proceeded to start thinking of ways to get Knight off of Knight. Then an idea popped in your head.

Immediately going behind Fenn you raised you flip flop above his head as a sneak attack

Then proceeded to bash his head from side to side smacking him multiple times.

When you finally stopped Fenn looked like he had brain damage. He couldn't properly say the sentence from how dizzy and in pain he was in.

And for the final blow you went in front of him as he was trying to crawl away and threw the sandal at his forehead giving you a K.O.

Bastard usually always has the last word. You’re tired of it, it’s annoying and as petty as it was you were too prideful to let this happen again and again.

As he walked away you quickly unbuckled your belt and used it as a lasso to grab his foot once his foot was caught he was confused.

About to look back, you used the force of 12 elephants and made him go flying back to you and he was on the ground still in shock mode.

You then got your sandal and proceeded your attack.

He came back to Knight shaking and clearly traumatized at the whole incident.

Once he got the letter you found out he had a fiancé, wow.

You gave him a pissed off look.

“Lynt, listen, why the hell would you ask me to be your fake paramour if you had a fiancé this whole time? If rumors got out about this, do you know how bad this would damage both you and my reputation?!”

Tino then proceeded to try to offer his personal input and try to defend his young master. But you weren’t listening clearly to pissed at Lynt.

Lynt honestly didn’t look too bothered about this.

“You don’t have to worry everything will turn out fine.”

He reasoned

You then proceeded to give him a dead cold glare and unbuckle your belt with the same look and then chased him while Tino was dragging him as Lynt had the surprised look on his face trying to run away from your wrath.

Roy was following you to get to know you better and try to gain your favor.

He ended up basically shadowing you not getting the gist that you wanted to be alone.

You tried to get him to leave multiple times and you didn’t wanna be attacked by a fangirl again clearly annoyed you looked behind you and said.

“Listen, I appreciate you trying to make me feel welcome but I don’t think you’re getting it. I would rather be alone at the moment.” You said with a blank stare.

He stopped behind you after taking a lot and looked surprised.

“Oh well I’m so sorry, but I really would like to get to know you better.” He smiled looking a little sad

You got the vibe that he was trying to guilt trip you, you saw him do it before and you were clearly tired.

Grabbing your sandal you threw it at him, getting yourself a KO then picking it up and running away fast, so you didn’t have to face the consequences.

He ate your desserts with no remorse. He said sorry but you didn’t think he meant it truly, so you decided to make the bastard repent for his unforgettable sin.

“Sorry MC I couldn’t help myself” He smiled with a laugh.

You gave him a fake closed eye smile back and didn’t say anything.

You then proceeded to unbuckle your belt and swing at the bitch. He started screaming and dodging all of your attacks with tears in his eyes clearly afraid of what’s to come.

A rumor basically spread around when he got into a fight with someone after they tried harassing Christop, Lance basically attacked the student.

The student, obviously afraid, ran away and made some rumor of Lance being bullied.

All the students started avoiding Lance and giving you both glares and such.

Eventually Lance, a little bit more pissed as usual, stayed in his room avoiding you worried that you would be deeply affected by these rumors.

You were pissed. Lance wasn’t opening his dorm room, you started banging the door and yelling. “Lance let me in, we’re going to talk.”

“Go away I say” Lance yelled back.

He was in his sad moments,

You kicked down the door and headed for Lance who was sitting in the corner in his sorry state.

“Lance what the fuck!”

You yelled

Lance looked back at you clearly surprised that you did this.

You leaned down to his level and started yelling at him, giving him a piece of your mind.

Lance proceeded to stand up and lightly pushed you away heading to the door trying to avoid confrontation.

Oh hell no.

You ran behind him unbuckling your belt in a position to smack him in the head like if it was a baseball bat.

All we gotta say is RIP Lance…

67 notes · View notes

graylinesspam · 2 years

Text

Kix is smitten with their new commander. Jesse knows that better than anyone considering the fact that his baar'ur won't shut the kriff up about her.

He's used to his baar'ur getting an itch about the things he was fascinated by. He's studied many things with his medics acess to the intergalactic web. Any subject that caught his fancy could be poured over and discussed for weeks.

But never has he been so obsessed with a person before. And never has it made Jesse so jealous.

He prided himself in being the most important person to his baar'ur. They'd chosen each other as platonic life mates after both of their batches had been scattered to the winds.

Kix was Jesse's medic. And Jesse wan kix's specialist.

They were a pair.

But now there always seems to be a spunky little pre-teen nesting in the share cot in the medbay when he wants to come in for his midday gossip.

Or tucked under his baar'ur's arm after duty when they're supposed to be relaxing in the rec room.

And sure, Jesse likes the kid ok. She's funny for sure. But he doesn't know why she has to be around all the kriffing time.

Some of Torrent have adopted her outright. It's the first time he's heard the word vod'ika spoken since they were all training under Alpha 17. And this one isn't even a clone.

Jesse doesn't understand what they're all enamored with. She's just some kid they all have to listen to.

They're trudging through a marsh the first time the commander gets shot. Honest to the maker shot and not grazed.

It's just a special squad from torrent. Two scouts and a specialist. And the commander of course. They're supposed to be scouting for seperatist scouting parties or any artillery tracks.

Not any serious work.

They don't notice the sniper droids perched on a ridge a click to the east until the bolt zips past Jesse's shoulder.

Two more blasts pop the air, a burst shot rifle apperently.

The second shot should have pierced right through his chest. But instead, Jesse found himself thrown forward, familiar invisible hands yanking him out of the line of danger. A perk of working with jedi.

But the last shot lands with a sizzling wet sound and the smell of burning flesh.

The party scatters and dives behind all manner tall plant life to disappear from the sniper's sights.

Jesse catches it, the moment the commander slides steadily through the mud and onto her knees behind a stalk tree.

She clutches her upper arm eyes wide and far off. Red bleeds between her fingers.

Kriff kriff kriff

There are a few more bursts of fire as he slides through the mud towards Ahsoka. Then a few more as all three troopers make a break for it.

Ahsoka slung across Jesse's shoulder.

She went surprisingly easy. As light as she was he almost threw her completely over his shoulder when he scooped her up. She weighed a lot less than a six foot soldier in twenty pounds of plastic armor and weaponry that's for sure.

Jesse had to adjust his hold as the mud and blood that was slowly sullying her abdomen compromised his grip.

"J-Jesse"? She asked dazed.

"Yes, sir."

"Did I get shot?"

"Yes, sir."

He was almost sure that in that moment they were both thinking the same thing. "I wish Kix was here."

When they'd retreated to a safe distance Vere tapped his pauldron. "We need to get her bleeding under control."

Bleeding. Right. Why would a blaster wound be bleeding?

Jesse paniced as he lowered her to the ground. He's trying to remember what Kix has told him about blaster wounds.

Usually, the plasma burns the wound closed. Bleeding could be a result of a nicked artery. Or, hopefully, the muscle had been penatrated at an awkward angle with her arms outstretched and lowering them had torn the burn open as the muscles shifted.

He really hoped The general's padawan wouldnt die on his watch.

She looked dazed. Eyes wide and fast away. Hand still clenched hard over her wound. She was clearly in shock.

Vere produced a roll of gauze and a small bacta patch from his belt.

"Alright vod'ika, let me see" he crooned soothingly to the distressed youngling.

Alsoka barely budged and Vere shot Jesse a look.

She's young, small, losing blood. And she's probably never been shot before. She's totally checked out.

Jesse's hand wrapped around hers and eased it away from the slick flesh so that Vere can fashion a makeshift tourniquet from the gauze roll.

She doesn't make a fuss during the whole process but flinches away when Vere starts to clean the area with spare gauze.

Jesse grabed her hands in his and pressed them to her lap. "Look at me kid." He waited until her hollow eyes moved to his face. "It's gonna be alright. Vere's gonna clean you up and we're gonna find Kix ok?"

It takes a moment but she nods slowly.

She isn't much more present for the trip back to camp. Eventually, Jesse lowers her from the shoulder carry and cradles her in both arms.

She's conscious but not present. Eyes slowly moving over his helmet every few minutes only to wander back the the foliage over his shoulder.

"Hey Jesse," she pipes up when they've almost made it back. "Am I really gonna make it?"

He's almost startled by the question. By the gentle sincerity in it. The hoarseness of her voice and the still unfocused gaze slipping over the face of his helmet.

"Course kid, it's just a flesh wound. No big deal."

She nods but he doesn't know if she believes him.

He doesn't know if she thinks she's slowly bleeding to death in his arms. He doesn't know how she feels about it. Other than her overtly calm reaction. She could die at any time really. They all could. Has the youngling already resigned herself the the concept of death on the battlefield?

Her hand covers his where it grips her shoulder and Jesse picks up the pace.

They burst into the camp with their sights on the medic tent. Jesse doesn't notice when the others split away to give the war tent their report.

He only notices when Kix looks up to see them coming. He's not wearing his helmet and Jesse notices when his face falls for only a second, the anxiety below revealed before it melts back away.

"What do we have?" his baar'ur asks in a measured tone as Jesse moves to drop her down on the closest cot.

"Blaster wound to the upper arm. It started bleeding a lot at first but Vere fashioned a field tourniquet and it's been dry for thirty minutes or so."

Kix has to sew the wound shut. The kid has to be restrained. Jesse grips her hand and her opposite shoulder as leverage to keep her still.

She squirms and cries through the whole procedure. But she makes it out only a little worse for wear. The distance has begun to clear from her eyes. The color returns to her skin. Kix gives her something for the pain and she finally eases into sleep.

Kix isn't going anywhere, however. He's stationed at her bedside. Only leaving to tend to the two other injured troopers.

Actually now that he thinks about it Kix might be coming back for him. Jesse is the one that hasn't left Ahsoka's side. He sat himself on a cot beside her. Kix does his rounds on every patient and comes back to sit next to him.

He wonders idly why he's sitting there but doesn't feel any urge to leave.

Kix is staring at him. "What is it baar'ur?"

Kix shakes his head for a minute then smiles his loose mischievous smile. The one reserved for Jesse. "She's getting to you. I told you she would"

Jesse rolls his eyes behind his helmet.

"She just got shot. Excuse me for worrying about the shiny."

Kix shakes his head again. "Not a shiny anymore. Surviving s blaster wound is a right of passage."

"Eh, she's still just a kid. No changing that with a little hole in her arm."

Kix looks at him for a moment. "It isn't her first right if passage y'know. Those teeth she wears, had to kill the monster that grew them herself. By her people's standards that makes her an adult."

Jesse grimaces. "Battle scars and trophies huh. So that makes her all grown up."

"About as grown up as you are." Kix snarks back.

"I'm not calling her vod'ika." Is all Jesse says. Stubborn denial slowly dying in his voice.

@holding-hands-and-hearts

45 notes · View notes

somewheric · 9 months

Text

230725 "21st Century Boyz": Younghoon Interview for Arena Homme+ (ENG)

We’ve heard you were cast while eating bread at the convenience store. What did you have to eat this morning?

YH: My first meal today was the musubi available at the photoshoot site. It was delicious. (laughs) I’m not the kind who eats well in the morning. I make sure to eat lunch and dinner instead.

What do you have on days where you have a photoshoot like today, or on days where you think “I did well today”?

YH: I drink whiskey. I like Jack Daniels and Balvenie. If I go home, wash up, and drink [whiskey] on the rocks before bed, I’ll feel that “I’ve worked hard today”. (laughs)

The yakgwa pastry is popular these days. What are some of your recent interests?

YH: Vintage. We’ve been going a lot to Japan these days so I went into a vintage shop and bought two or so shirts and I’m wearing them day and night. It was a brown shirt that had all this paint on it so it was strangely eye-catching. I tried it on and immediately bought it. Ah, I’m into something else too: dried salmon. There’s dried salmon in every convenience store in Japan. I buy a lot of it every time I go there. It’s so delicious.

We’re always curious about what kind of things an idol buys when they go abroad but vintage shirts and dried salmon sure are unexpected. If your company said “starting from tomorrow, enjoy one week of vacation, do everything you want,” what would you want to do?

YH: Ohh. First, I think I’d go home. I want to meet with my friends in the neighborhood, go on a long overdue date with my family. To be honest, I don’t really like going abroad. Because I’m too scared of planes. (laughs) Even so, if I had a vacation I’d want to go on a trip with my family after a long time. Either Tokyo or Okinawa would be nice.

So you plan vacations like any office worker. What’s your preferred stress reliever? Personally, I start by ordering chicken.

YH: I discovered while working that I'm surprisingly not the kind to get stressed. There’s been times when I couldn’t sleep for days, so of course my body got tired. But I’ve never felt like “I’m annoyed”, or “I don’t want to do this”. Even if I get annoyed, within an hour I’m over it. I don’t even think “I shouldn’t be stressed”, I just don’t get stressed? So with that I realized [mine] is a really well-suited personality for this job.

You’re a good member of society. Earlier during the shooting you were eyeing a watch in the studio. Are you into watches?

YH: I really like watches. I feel good just looking at them. I don’t wear one everyday but looking at a ticking clock makes me happy.

Do you have a collection too?

YH: I have about 4 or 5 at home. I only buy the bracelet models for watches.

We’ve heard that you bought gifts for your parents and for your older brother with the first money you earned in your life. Did you gift them watches at the time?

YH: Yes. (laughs) I gave watches to my older brother and to my mom, and I gave shoes and a belt to my dad. It was my mom’s birthday recently so my brother and I collected our money and bought her a bag as a gift.

What was her reaction?

YH: Funny thing is, we’ve been thinking of buying her a bag for a while now, but my mom picked it up first and said “buy this one for me”. So we bought that one, of course. Her reaction was really good.

I’m scared my mom will see this interview and give me a call. Did you ever think of using a stage name? I’m curious to know if there were any candidates.

YH: Back when the company told us to choose a stage name, I picked “아이” (T/N: Literally “A-I”, pronounced as “eye”), “i” in English. There was no special reason, I just thought it looked cool. (laughs) The company rejected it. Now I’m grateful that they did.

You’re famous for your love for your dog, Bori. Let’s have a “Bori pride” moment.

YH: It’s “our Bori”. (laughs) If I go back home after six months, she recognizes me right away. She greets me and cries for a good few minutes. Then she takes me to my room, which has been empty for a while. Usually Bori sleeps on the bed with my mom, but when I go home she needs to sleep in my bed.

It’s moving to have a dog with you often.

YH: Absolutely. I hear that when I’m not home, she doesn’t even care about my room. Even so, she always greets me so enthusiastically, for that alone I’m very grateful and very proud. She’s the most lovely existence in my life.

We’ve heard you like BTS’ V among artists. Do you have a role model now?

YH: I don’t. If I pick a role model, I could start unknowingly copying them. Now I have a strong desire to become a cooler and better Younghoon who receives love from fans.

This year marks 6 years since your debut. Is there anything you felt has changed about you since that time?

YH: What changed the most is how I feel about the fans. During debut, I used to think “why do these people like me?”. Of course I’m grateful. But then again, I had released one song as a member of THE BOYZ and was thinking “but will they like it, what can I do to repay them”. Now I’m not that wary. I like the fans very much as well. My relationship with TheBs is that we have formed a bond over time. It’s more than just living up to their love and expectations; now I think “I must give these people reasons to like me”, “they shouldn’t be ashamed to say they’re a fan of Younghoon.”

This is a vague question but to Younghoon, what kind of person is a cool person?

YH: It’s a person with manners. When you see someone being rude (T/N: with no manners), you start wondering [what the person does] when you can’t see it, right? You think “that person must be like that everywhere”. Likewise, a person with manners makes you think “that person must be kind to everyone”. Being a good person isn’t that big of a deal. I think that a person who says “thank you” with a smile after buying something at the convenience store won’t behave like a rude person anywhere else.

Last question. What kind of singer, what kind of person would Younghoon like to be 10 years from now?

YH: A singer who does his best at his job. I want to be remembered as a singer who liked and treasured his fans. I’ll be in my 30s so I’d like to be doing what I want even better than now. If it’s hard, that’s fine. I’ll be happy if I’m in my 30s enjoying doing my best at the things I want to do.

(source; translation may contain inaccuracies!)

#long post #t:younghoon #younghoon #i:arena #230725 #the boyz #interview #kim younghoon

4 notes · View notes

btch3sluvme · 1 year

Note

Hey! So I saw that you wanted info about ocs???

So now you got info about ocs- >:)

Okay, first of all my Oc is from the Hazbin Hotel fandom!

Her name is Paola Willson Davidson, she was Spanish when alive so that's why she has 2 surnames. She is 13 years old and is very proud to say she is AroAce (like Bro- she wears those pride pins everyday of her afterlife 👌). She got send to hell because of summoning potentially dangerous demons (not Alastor or Vox, but- ya know where this is going), she didn't do anything "wrong" apart of that and that's what leads us to her physical form.

She died in the early 2000's and/or late 90's by natural cause (heart attack) so her physical form does not differ much from a human body. Her skin is grey, and has chain tattoos (tattued in poison green ink) around her neck and wrists. She has cat-like eyes wich are completely white, she does not have pupils or iris, it can seem like she is blind but she is far from that, having a very good vision. She has black hair that fades to poison green in the ends. She likes it very much because of her hairstyle wich consists in a long kinda disheveled mane (it ends on her waist) that is practically straight from top to medium but starts to get wavy/curly in the ends. Also, since she isn't that of a sinner and was supposed to go to heaven she has a halo herself although it's not like an angel halo, hers Is more like a crown of thorns because she "betrayed" god and all the "pure" beings in heaven by summoning a demon. Her clothes are a short black T-shirt with red sleeves wich end near the elbow accompained with a black punk necklace (those that seem like theese bulldog collars from the cartoons). She wears dark green baggy pants wich are held by a black leather belt. She wears red converses and biker gloves (those who don't have fingers) as an accesory.

She is a kind and caring girl who lives to make everyone happy. She flinches over every fast moment but not because of tr4um4 or abus3 more because of her mf fucking fast reflexs. She laughs at almost everything that seems a little bit funny to her and has this Gen-Z humor wich is centered on self depricating and/or su1cid4l jokes. She is a very physical person and tends to hug everyone of the crew almost once a day, surprisingly Alastor does not hate this and lets the girl hug him everytime she wants (she kinda reminds him of himself when he was her age except for the Gen-Z humor), Husk just rolls his eyes everytime she hugs him and doesn't hug back (he doesn't hate her but she finds her clinginess quite annoying sometimes), Nifty and Vaggie are neutral about that fact, Charlie and Angel enjoy hugging her very much, they find adorable how Paola can just enter the room and tackle them into a hug, they really need to feel love and she is willing to make them realise that she does love them!

She respects everyone boundaries as they respect hers so there isn't a problem with that. The problem was when Angel told her to cook spaghetti- Well, she burned the spaghetti ._. DON'T ASK ME HOW TF SHE DID IT BECAUSE I DON'T KNOW IT EITHER 👀💦

She is like the little sister and/or adoptive daughter of everyone in the crew and Angel even introduced her to Cherri so they could get along! Angel was scolded by Vaggie not even 3 hours later for bringing Paola to a territorial war 😐

And that's all! I created her not even 2 weeks ago so I'm still trying to figure out wich demon she summoned when alive xd

(You don't have to do this if you don't wanna or if you're busy but, could you draw her please? you don't have to draw her in HH style anyways, but, don't feel presured 'cause you really don't have to, it was just a suggestion for you if you were bored or something)

have a nice day/night!! ^^

FIRST OF ALLL

IM SO FLATTERED, AND SHE REMENBERS ME OF MYSELF FRRRRRR, literally im as old as her 😩

LIKE OMG IM LITERALLY SO FUCKING FLATTERED, NOBODY EVER ASKED ME TO DRAW THEIR OC, BE SURE I WILL!!#?!#;$:$+$+#:# it may take a while tho, since im a bit busy

Also ... Would it bother you if she's a scene kid?? I just read this and I thought about this

Will try to draw her with Angel too!

#OMG TYSMM

1 note · View note

dreamerstreamer · 3 years

Text

Human GPS

Pairing: c!Technoblade x f!reader

Summary: [Dream SMP!AU] Technoblade really needs some books of mending, and you just happen to be the daughter of the village cleric.

Word Count: 3.8k

A/N: this a repost of the first ever story i posted when i first made my blog. this story takes place back when technoblade was still allied with pogtopia. i hope you like it as much as i did! <3

Technoblade blinked, his eyes squinting up at the clear, cerulean sky. It was about midday now, and the beating sun sat in the center of the sky, almost taunting him from where it hung.

If the sun is directly above me, he thought, then west must be… He frowned. Somewhere. Maybe.

He groaned and swung his legs off of Carl, the horse letting out a soft whinny as he hopped onto the ground. He had been travelling for what must have been close to an hour now, and he still hadn’t found a village. It was almost like the universe was trying to waste his time. All he wanted was to get his hands on some books of mending so he didn’t have to worry about any of his armour breaking, yet the world was sending him on a wild goose chase, anyways.

“Seriously,” he muttered, irritation gnawing away at his already dwindling patience, “how hard can it be to find just one cleric? It’s not like I’m asking to find a woodland mansion, or something.”

Letting out yet another long groan, Technoblade flipped open the pack he attached to Carl’s saddle. He pulled out a baked potato and bit in, allowing himself a few seconds of relief as he ate.

For a brief moment, he considered digging through his bag to look for a compass or—better yet—a map. But then he remembered that just prior to leaving, he had reminded himself that he was a human GPS and that “Technoblade never fails.”

He sighed. No compass, it is.

He took another bite of the potato in his hands, looking around at the terrain around him. There was a lush birch forest to his left and a barren desert on the opposite side. Just a little to his right was a river and—

Wait a second.

Technoblade froze, his jaw freezing halfway through chewing another bite of potato.

He recognized that river.

A wide grin split across his lips.

He totally knew where to find a village.

Doing his best not to choke, Technoblade stuffed the rest of the baked potato in his mouth and buckled his pack shut. With a grunt, he pulled himself back onto Carl, picking up the reins. “Like I said, Carl, who even needs a compass? I’ve got the map memorized, and my inner compass is perfectly calibrated.”

Carl looked back at him and let out an almost sarcastic sounding neigh that seemed to say, “Sure.”

Technoblade’s face rolled his eyes. He snapped the reins once, and Carl charged forward.

The human GPS never failed.

You let out an ecstatic cry as you pushed the last book in your hands onto the creaky bookshelf, stepping back to look at your work in pride. You’d been organizing the library for a little over half the day now, and you were almost finished. Each shelf was now in alphabetical order.

Dusting off your skirt, you took one last glance at the shelves before settling down at the table in the corner of the room, looking over the to-do list you had set out for yourself the night before. “Let’s see,” you hummed to yourself, “I already dusted all the tabletops, mopped the floor, and delivered that order to Mr. Hart. Now I can check ‘organize bookshelves’ off the list, too.”

You set the quill down on the table. “Meanwhile, dad’s out trading with Mrs. Lee and said he would be back soon.” You stared down at the page for a moment longer before sighing. A frown etched itself onto your features. You leaned your elbows on the oak tabletop as your gaze trailed out the church window and up at the cloudless sky.

You had lived in the village your whole life with your father, the village cleric. Everything was peaceful and you loved the familiar environment you resided in, but things had also become so… boring in the village. So bland, so dull. You can’t even remember the last time you did something fun. Sure, you were productive and made sure to help your father around his workspace the best you could, but you wanted more than this.

Please, you thought to yourself, squeezing your eyes shut in a silent prayer. Please, please, please let something new and exciting happen. At least just once in my life.

All of a sudden, you heard a distant rumbling.

You sat up straight, blinking awake from your reverie. What’s that sound?

The rumbling grew louder, and you could now recognize it as the galloping of a horse. Your thoughts were only confirmed by the loud whinny you heard right after the rumbles stopped.

You pushed your chair back, standing up from the table and walking over to the front window, crouching down to peek outside. You squinted, your eyes scanning around outside before they landed on an unfamiliar shape.

Your heart suddenly barrelled over in your chest.

Sitting atop a horse wearing diamond armour in the center of the village square was a stranger.

His back was facing you, but from what you could see of him, the first thing you noticed was the crimson robe hanging off his shoulders, cascading down his back like a scarlet waterfall. An axe was strapped to his back, tinted with a murky, violet hue. His hair was a vibrant shade of cherry blossom pink like nothing you had ever laid eyes on before, and on his head sat a golden crown encrusted with glittering gems. You wondered what his face looked like, curiosity bubbling in your chest.

Just then, he slid off his horse, landing on the ground with a small thump. He stood tall and proud, turning his head this way and that as he looked around at the houses around him, an air of regality surrounding him.

Then, he turned.

Your eyes only met for a fraction of a second before you immediately ducked down, hiding your figure from view in the window. The moment you were out of sight, you stilled, doing your best not to give yourself away.

He was handsome.

His face was calm and demure, reflecting his royal air almost perfectly, and his eyes, like his robe, were a piercing crimson red. They almost seemed to stare into your soul, laying every part of yourself bare for him to see.

He looked like a king in every sense of the word, and you just had to meet him.

Your heart was thrumming wildly in your chest as you struggled to regain your breath. You peeked over the windowsill carefully, glancing past the glass outside once more. The stranger had tied his horse to a post in the square and was walking around, glancing at the villagers here and there. Most of them seemed to be slightly wary of him—after all, it wasn’t everyday a king showed up at your doorstep. He seemed to be looking for something with the way he kept looking around him, his eyes sweeping over every inch of the village. Perhaps you could help him.

Slowly, you slid away from the windowsill and carefully clicked open the front door, stepping outside. The sun shone brilliantly on your face as you made your way toward the stranger. Once again, his back was turned to you, and you stopped a few feet behind him. Taking a deep breath, you mustered up what courage you had before speaking.

“Hello.”

The man turned at the sudden sound of your voice, his scarlet eyes piercing into yours. “Oh, hello.” His voice was deep, laced with a low rasp that sent a shiver down your spine.

Your offered him a warm smile. “Welcome to our humble village. I’m [Y/N].” You extended your hand, and he took it in a friendly handshake, smiling back.

“The name’s Technoblade.”

Your eyebrows quirked. “Technoblade,” you repeated. “That’s a unique name.”

“Thanks,” he said, jokingly adding, “I got it for my birthday.”

You giggled at that. He may look regal and intimidating, but right off the bat, it seemed that his personality was far from it. “You know what they say, a bad joke is always the best way to leave a good first impression.”

He frowned, feigning sadness. “Oh, c’mon, it wasn’t that bad.”

Your lips twitched. “Well, I laughed at it, so I’ll give you that.” His face lit up once more, and you felt your stomach churn with warmth. “Well, what brings you here?”

He gestured to the pack he had clipped to his belt. “Just looking to do a few trades, really.”

You looked at him in confusion. “A king? Trading with commoners like us?”

He blinked for a moment. “Ah, about that, I’m not really a king, per se.” He plucked his crown from off his head, tossing it casually in his hands. “The crown and robes are more for… aesthetic purposes, to say the least. I don’t really rule over my own country or anything.

Your tilted your head at him. “Where do you come from, then? I can only imagine you travelled for a while to get here.”

He shrugged. “It was kind of far, but it wasn’t a big deal, really. I never got lost.”

You raised your eyebrows at him. “Never?” you said.

“Never,” he confirmed. His grinned smugly, your heart reeling at the sight. “I’m a human GPS, if you will.”

You stifled a laugh but couldn’t hide your smile. What a dork. “Totally.”

His grin only widened. “Anyways, I’m from this place called Pogtopia.” You must have made a face at his words, because he laughed at you and god, even his laugh was pretty. “Yeah, it’s kind of a funny name, isn’t it? Well, I didn’t come up with it. My friends Tommy and Wilbur did.”

“They must be…” You looked for a good word. “…interesting people.”

He laughed. “It’s okay—you’re allowed to say they have bad taste in names.”

You giggled, your cheeks flushing in slight embarrassment. “Okay, yeah, their taste is pretty poor.” You glanced at him. “Are they the kings of your country then, since they named it?”

“Kind of. I guess you could call them kings, but they’re more like self-instated presidents, even though that kind of defeats the whole purpose of having a president.” You nodded, following along in agreement. “They’re trying to win back some land they were exiled from a while back called L’Manberg, although it was recently renamed Manberg, but there’s also Dream and his SMP, and—” He sighed, running a hand through his rosy locks. “It’s complicated. Basically, we’re sort of in the middle of this war, and I just kind of got roped into it.”

Your eyes widened in alarm. “A war?! Surely we wouldn’t get involved, right?” Your village, like many others, was a pacifist group of people, having no source of defense or battle skills to protect yourselves with. If this supposed war came all the way to your little village, all of you would surely perish.

Technoblade raised his arms in front of him, quickly shaking his head. “Oh, definitely not. You’ve got nothing to worry about, I swear.”

You pressed a hand to your chest as you let out a breath of relief. “Oh, thank goodness.” Technoblade smiled at you from the corner of your eye, amusement lacing his lips. You suddenly straightened, another thought popping into your head. “What about you, then? Aren’t you worried?”

He laughed again, though it sounded more like a cackle. “Me? Worried? Nahhh.” He swung his axe off his back, being careful to point it away from you. “I may not look like it, but I’m actually one of the most feared warriors in the land. Tommy and Wilbur basically begged me to join their side so I can help them win.” He gestured to himself. “You don’t have to believe me, but I think it’s pretty clear to see I’m pretty much a god at PVP.”

You hummed, shaking your head. “No, I believe you. You do look like you could seriously teach someone a thing or two with that axe, but I really don’t think I need to feed your ego anymore.” You smiled bemusedly. “It already seems to be quite large on its own.”

His grin dropped. “Wait, please, feed my ego, I thrive off complime—”

A giggle escaped your mouth as you waved your hand at him. “I’m kidding, I’m kidding!” Your expression grew a bit more serious. “But honestly, you’re not scared? Even a little?”

Technoblade shook his head. “Nope. A war is just a lot of fights lined up one after the other, and I’m great at winning fights. Heck, I could probably wipe out the other side in a heartbeat with what I’ve got in my arsenal. Tommy and Wilbur might just send me out by myself to do just that.”

“They would?” you said in disbelief. “Aren’t they worried for you, either?”

He snorted. “They were the ones who wanted me here to help them win, so they definitely aren’t worried.”

Your eyebrows furrowed. Well, that was no good—no good at all. Wasn’t a single person concerned for this man’s safety, not even just one? No matter how powerful he may be, this was a war you two were talking about, and wars don’t always go according to plan.

Suddenly, it hit you.

“I see,” you murmured. You raised your chin, resolve filling your veins. “Then I’ll worry for you.”

Technoblade stared at you for a long moment, stunned into silence. Panicking, you began to ramble. “You and your friends may have overwhelming confidence in you and your abilities,” you said, “but it’s still important that you recognize that sometimes things don’t go according to plan. That’s why you should worry, and if you won’t, then I’ll do it in your stead.”

When he still didn’t say anything after yet another moment, you felt embarrassment rise up in you. “I’m sorry, we just met and that was totally uncalled for of m—”

“No, no, really,” he abruptly said, shaking his head. “It’s all good. Seriously.” There was a slight pause. Then, he softly added, “Thank you. I appreciate your concern.”

His lips curled to form a smile, but this one was different from the ones he gave you before. Those ones were proud and teasing, full of mirth and some level of arrogance. But this one was softer, kinder. More genuine and real.

You liked this one more.

Still feeling slightly embarrassed from having just rambled about caring about a near stranger to his face, you quickly shifted gears. “W-Well, I should probably ask what exactly you wanted to trade for,” you said as your cheeks flushed pink. You lowered your gaze to the ground, trying to avert your eyes from his. “I can probably help you find whatever it is you need.”

Technoblade hummed. “I have a bunch of stuff with me that I can use to trade, but I’m looking for a cleric to get some mending books from.”

Your head shot up in recognition. “A cleric, you say?” Your lips curled into a small grin when he nodded. “I know just where to find him. Wait here for a minute, okay?”

As soon as he nodded his head once more, you had already taken off, bounding down the grassy path with your skirt trailing behind you. Technoblade’s gaze followed you as you rushed down the path, a pleasant warmth bubbling in the pit of stomach and he watched you run off.

Usually whenever he came to a village, the people he met were wary of him and hardly ever spoke more than the bare minimum to him. Most of them were intimidated by his appearance, others thrown off by his cockiness. And yet here you were, treating him like a friend when so many before you had done the exact opposite. You were kind, compassionate, and you saw more than just his arrogant exterior. You genuinely cared for the person he was underneath the crown and the robes. Not to mention, you were quite the sight for sore eyes.

Warmth blossomed in his chest and something fluttered in his stomach.

He was glad he came to this village.

To say your father was more than pleased to trade some books of mending for the stacks upon stacks of emeralds Technoblade had was an understatement.

“I thought you said you weren’t a king,” you said to him, your eyes nearly bulging out of your head when you saw him open his pack.

“I’m not,” Technoblade said, twirling an emerald between his fingers. “I just happen to be very wealthy.”

You shook your head at him, a smile gracing your lips. “You’re a maniac.”

He shot you a smug look. “Oh, don’t I know it.”

After he had traded for some mending books with your father, he had asked you if your village had a fletcher.

“Oh, I made a delivery to Mr. Hart earlier today,” you said. “Here, follow me.”

The trek to the other side of the village was short enough, and you were content to wait on the sides while Technoblade made some negotiations. Just then, Mrs. Lee spotted you and strode up to you.

“Good afternoon, [Y/N],” she greeted, her lips tilting into a familiar gentle smile.

“Hello, Mrs. Lee!” you chirped happily, turning to face her. “Thank you for the pumpkins, earlier today! I’ll be sure to give you some of the pumpkin pie I bake tomorrow.”

“Why, there’s no need for you to do that, dear.” She leaned close to your ear to whisper, “You know you’re my favourite of the youngins here.”

You blushed. “You know that’s not true.”

She held a finger to her lips. “It’s our little secret, alright?” She looked over your shoulder at Technoblade, who was still debating with Mr. Hart. “Looks like you’ve become acquainted with our visitor, haven’t you, dear?”

Your blush deepened. “Y-Yes! I have. His name is Technoblade and he comes from a country called Pogtopia. He traded for some books with my father just now.”

Mrs. Lee wrinkled her nose. “Weird name, the both of them, but never mind that.” She smirked at you, glancing just behind you. “He’s quite the looker, isn’t he?”

Your face exploded like a bright red tomato. “I-I, um, he’s. Um.” You took a deep breath and fanned your face, lowering your voice. “He’s handsome.”

Her smirk only grew larger. “I hope the two of you become even more acquainted then,” she said cryptically, patting your shoulder. “I’ll be on my way now, but do let me know how it goes, okay?”

You nodded dutifully, too embarrassed to say anything else. Mrs. Lee turned away and continued her way down the grassy path, smiling to herself.

If only you had seen the way he had looked at you.

Hours had passed since Technoblade had first arrived in the village, and the sun was just beginning to set. The two of you had visited just about every working person in the village, chatting away as Technoblade traded for whatever he needed from each person you two saw.

The two of you learned a lot about each other in the time you spent together. You learned that Technoblade wasn’t a huge fan of government and much preferred anarchy. He learned that you longed for something much more than your normal life in the village, but you had yet to discover what it was you wanted to do. You learned that he owned a dog named Floof. He learned the location of your favourite spot in the village. By the end of the day, it felt like you two had known each other for ages.

You secretly hoped that he would stay, but you knew that he couldn’t. The village wasn’t his home, after all.

You stood nearby as Technoblade strapped his pack back onto Carl’s saddle, chewing the inside of your lip. He climbed onto Carl, securing his axe on his back and picking up the reins in his hands. “Well, [Y/N],” he said, a hint of disappointment tinging his voice, “it looks like this is goodbye.”

“I guess so,” you murmured sadly, casting your gaze down at your feet. You had only known him for so long, but an overwhelming sense of loss filled you knowing that Technoblade was leaving and may very well never return. He was funny with his dry, dorky sense of humour and charming with his sharp grins and deep voice.

You weren’t sure you were quite ready to let go just yet.

“Um,” you spoke up, your voice cracking a little, “will you…” You peeked up at him, nervously biting the inside of your cheek as you fiddled with your fingers. “Will you ever come back?”

Something in Technoblade’s chest seized at the shy look on your face, your cheeks rosy and your gaze darting back and forth between his eyes and the ground. While he had originally only come in search of this village to trade with a cleric, he supposed he might always need more mending books in the future. Not to mention, he would also get to see you.

He smiled, letting out a soft laugh. “Yeah,” he said, “I’ll be back, so wait up for me, yeah?”

Your eyes lit up and an elated grin spread across your face. “I-I will!”

He chuckled at your giddiness, his own heart beating wildly against his rib cage. “Good.”

Sharing one last look with you, he snapped his reins and held on tight as Carl dashed forward, his gaze trailing behind him as he watched you wave your arms frantically at him. He couldn’t help but crack a smile at your enthusiasm, raising his arm to wave back at you himself. He kept waving until he could no longer see you, and only then did he face forward to find his way home.

The journey back was significantly shorter than the trip to the village, and before he knew it, he was tying Carl to his usual fence post. He was a human GPS, after all. How else would he have found the village—and you—with so much ease?

He tilted his head up, looking up at the rising moon in the east. Now he knew that the village (and you, his heart helpfully supplied once more) lay to the west, just beyond the birch forest, desert, and river. Above him, he could make out the shapes of a handful of constellations, the stars twinkling and winking down at him from space. He wondered if you were looking up at the same starry sky as him. He wondered if your stomach was full of butterflies, too.

“So,” he mused to himself aloud, his heart thump-thump-thumping in his chest, “[Y/N], huh?”

He was definitely going back.

1K notes · View notes

quillsareswords · 2 years

Note

Happy Early Valentine's day!!!!

I read your laziest valentine's day one. Can you do a very busy day one?? Like the reader is out becuz of work and deadline and Damian is out doing vigilante stuff.

Idk what to write in this but......yeah. It's like real life Valentine's cuz it's not a national holiday where I'm from -_-

Ugh why can't the whole world just jump on board for love day? I'm single and it's still one of my favorite holidays. Whole day in bed watching roms and eating myself sick on chocolate 😩 Remember to love yourselves babes, you don't need anyone but yourself today 😘

MASTER LIST in BIO

"I can't believe this," he growls, clicking his belt together with more anger than you've ever seen someone latch a belt. "Who robs a jewelry store on Valentine's Day? In broad daylight, no less."

You're still in bed, barely dressed, trying to look as supportive as you can despite being this ticked off. "Somebody who forgot it was Valentine's Day and now has a very angry partner to appease."

He glares sideways at you. "I don't think this is funny."

He really doesn't. In fact, this is probably the angriest he's been thus far this year. All he wanted was to lay in bed with you today. That's it. He'd stocked up on chocolate and had plans for making you a late breakfast in bed, and you'd lined up a slew of cheesy romance favorites from Pride and Prejudice to Corpse Bride.

And then Tim called him and said there was a goddamn hostage situation in a Kay's Jewelry store downtown, and they were threatening to blow the whole block sky-high.

You twist a lick of hair around your finger. "It'll be fine." You keep your eyes on him, hoping he'll turn around and meet them. "I'll be right here when you get back. I took the day off remember?"

He twists his face and pitches his voice, "I too the day off." He yanks the laces of his boots tight. "Lucky you, picking your hours."

You roll your eyes. "Don't go picking fights when you're gonna want snuggles later."

He juts a finger at you while he reaches for his tunic. "Don't ever use that word again."

You chuckle, propping yourself up on your elbows. "What? Snuggles? So you don't want me to hold you and play with your hair while you try not to cry at the end of The Notebook?"

He glares at you again. He might argue, lie through his teeth and tell you no, if that wasn't his exact plan for this afternoon.

You smile smugly at his silence. "Thought so." You wait until he's got his tunic Velcro'd so he can look at you again. "It'll be fine," you repeat.

You know this is important to him. He likes making plans with you; setting aside time with the specific intent of spending all of it with you. He doesn't have a lot of spare time these days, but he makes time for you. You always appreciate it, of course, but you wish he wouldn't take it so hard when those plans have to change.

It is fine. Yeah, sure, it's Valentine's Day, and you've been looking forward to a solid day off, and some unrushed quality time with your lovely boyfriend sounds heavenly—but there will be other days.

He'll make sure of it.

He doesn't argue about it anymore before he leaves. He grumbles and complains, of course, but he doesn't argue that it will, ultimately, be fine.

Until he gets a text from you on his way home.

So...work called. Three people called out with covid so they're calling me in. They're paying me over time and giving me an extra day off next week as compensation. Lemme know what day you're free so I can take the same day. Sorry. ❤️

He swaps the sweaty uniform for his civvies the moment he gets home. Well, it's one in the afternoon, and he's got four hours to himself. On Valentine's Day.

You get home close to dark. You're tired and the beginning of a headache had balled itself into the front of your head, but you're happy to be home.

He's waiting for you right there by the front door. "Funny seeing you here. Come here often?"

You snort. "Not as much as I used to." You bend over to start prying your shoes off, but he beats you to it.

He hits his knees and starts unlacing them. "I brought you flowers," he says. "And there's a hot shower calling your name. Not a single dirty dish in the entire apartment. I even moved the pile of laundry to the guest room so we don't have to look at it."

You laugh. "Oh really? A real man of the house, huh?"

He grins up at you, all boyish and lovesick. Your heart stutters in your chest the same moment your lungs seize. You try to think up something else witty to say, but you can't dredge anything up. "I might've swiped a bottle from Father's cellar, as well," he admits, pulling off your second shoe. "And I might have already had a glass or two."

You snort. One would think Damian would be at least a somewhat experienced drinker—but he really isn't. He doesn't like the idea of not quiet being completely in control of himself, so he doesn't drink often, and that means he's what Jason would call a light weight. Course, by Jason's standards, so is Bruce.

He does drink with you, though, on occasion. When it's just the two of you, in your shared apartment, with all the doors and windows locked and the curtains drawn, he'll throw his guard down like the heaviest suit of armour and he's dying for a decent breath.

Tonight isn't different. He's grinning down at you sometime long after the sun's gone. You're sprawled out on the soft area rug in the living room, tipsy smile stretching your cheeks, eyes glittering joy. He looks much the same, havering over you with his hands planted on his knees. There's some indie rom-com playing on the television, just a little too loud.

"Ya know," he starts, still grinning down at you like some middle schooler who hasn't had to meet the real atrocities of life yet. "We've never had a normal Valentine's Day."

"What do you mean?"

"Well," he heaves, dropping himself uncharacteristically clumsily onto the floor beside you, "last year you couldn't sleep. The year before that, you– I, uh–" he pauses to chuckle at himself, "you stayed up to wait for me to get home, remember?"

You wiggle across the carpet, pressing yourself flush into his side. You lay your head on the arm he stretches out for you. "I remember. It wasn't that bad, though. I've had much worse."

"Sure, but we've never had a normal one."

You hum. "By what standards?"

He lets his eyes wander the ceiling, and the fan that spins above you. "By– I don't know. Movies, I suppose. Television shows."

You shrug against him. "Those are boring anyway, don't you think? I mean, you know how it's going to end. Either everybody gets who they're supposed to get and everything turns out fine, or everybody gets their heart broken and goes their seperate ways." You try to watch one of the fan blades spin, but you get them mixed up somewhere on the third rotation. "Plus, all the dates are– I dunno. Kind of boring. It's sweet, don't get me wrong, but I don't know. It's just all so staged."

"They are movies, beloved."

"Exactly. They're movies." You reach up to hook your fingers with those of the hand attached to the arm you're laying on. "You and I aren't in a movie. Things don't always work out. But since there's no script, we get to do whatever we want. Like, yeah, sure our plans for jacked. But look at us now, right? Drunk on a Monday night, havin' the greatest time to be had."

He laughs, deep and loud. It shakes you into laughing with him. "I'm not drunk," he tries, but he's laughing so hard that it comes out crackly and slurred anyway.

"Fine," you allow, "tipsy. We're tipsy, laying on a floor. In our apartment." You twist and roll until you're on your stomach, leaning up on your elbows. "But it's fun, right?"

He looks away from the ceiling. Because he who would want to look at boring old ceiling when you are within view? "Very."

"Yeah," you grin. "We don't need a normal Valentine's Day. We just need an us Valentine's Day. Which means that nothing goes all the way right and we have to improvise 75% of it, but that's okay. We have pretty great on-the-spot ideas anyway."

His grin softens, the way an old picture does with age. All those bright colors are still there, all directed at you. He just stares for a long few minutes, as if he's trying burn this exact moment into his brain until it's the only thing he'll be able to see when he closes his eyes.

And then, quietly and giggly, "I think you're smarter when you're drunk."

#no bc why am i hurt #manifesting manifesting manifesting #damian wayne #damian wayne x reader #damian wayne imagine #damian wayne blurb #quillsvalentines

153 notes · View notes

minteyeddevil · 3 years

Note

Hi! I love your writing ❤ For the asks list, may I please request number 79 from the first list of smut prompts with Lucifer and F! MC please

(Hello there! Thank you for loving my writing!! ;v; I honestly really enjoy seeing you in my notes agdjshk. And thanks for sending in a prompt!)

---

#79: “Fuck you.” “I’m up for it if you are.”

---

Seething jealousy.

That’s all she could feel, almost every day now. It consumed her like a flame, and made her stomach tie in tight knots. She knew she shouldn’t feel this way; but she couldn’t help it. She was only human after all.

She knew what she was getting into when she began to romance the Avatar of Pride. He was second to the Demon Prince, and sought after by many demon, succubi, and inccubi alike. There were bound to be admirers, as he had had many before; but this time. This time seemed far too much for her to handle.

Whoever this admirer was, made it awfully clear they wanted to win him over from her. Their letters were laced with pheromonal perfume, gifts meant to draw him in and cast a spell on him; they were left every day outside his office, and even left on the doorstep of the House of Lamentation. Thankfully he was much too powerful of a demon to fall for such trickery. But knowing there was a being so willing to do such things out there terrified her.

What made it even worse, was how nonchalantly Lucifer was treating the whole scenario. He would look over the letters, smirk and chuckle, before setting them aflame in his hand. The gifts would simply be looked over, than tossed into the trash as if nothing would happen with them. She would watch him address these things, and when she brought up her concerns, he simply would tell her they were nothing for her to worry about.

Nothing for her to worry about? Was he enjoying this attention? Did...did he want to reciprocate these feelings in some way?

This started the fit of jealous that took root in her chest. One she could no longer hold back on. She stormed into his study, fuming as she noticed another letter in his hand. As she walked up, his eyes came up to meet hers, and the letter burst into flames, disappearing from his hand.

“Another one?” she huffed, placing her hands on her hips in annoyance.

He sighed, giving her a slight nod before turning back to his paperwork. “Not anything new at this point, it seems. They write the same mess with each letter.”

“And yet you still haven’t done anything about them.”

“They are of no grave concern. Just a lesser demon with an infatuation--”

“Yeah, an infatuation with my boyfriend!”

He looked up at this. She immediately regretted saying that out loud; but it was the truth after all.

He stood from his chair and walked around his desk, leaning back on it as he looked her over. “My dear MC...are you actually jealous?”

She bristled. “I’m annoyed with how you let this continue! If it really is just a lesser demon doing all this, why not put them in their place and make them leave you alone?!”

His brows rose at this for a moment, before his features relaxed and he smirked at her. “Put them in their place, you say? Maybe you are the one who needs to be put in her place.”

Her eyes widened, and her face bloomed red with anger. He was toying with her now, and she absolutely hated it. Her feelings and jealousy were valued, and she was infuriated having him treat this like some kind of joke.

She practically hissed. "Fuck you."

A devilish grin spread across his features as he stood from his leaning position, crossing his arms in front of his chest as he looked down his nose at her. "I'm up for it if you are. So, fuck me yourself."

For a moment she was taken aback by his brazen words, but flared in return, lunging for him and taking hold of his tie. She used it as leverage to bring him eye to eye with her. “Maybe I will. Just to remind you who you belong to, demon.”

Her lips crashed against his, all teeth and tongue. She walked him backwards against his desk, pushing him back onto the wooden surface so he was flat along the top of it, scattering his stacks of papers all over. She climbed atop him, straddling his lap, her hands splayed on his chest. His gloved hands came to rest at her hips, thumbs pressing into them teasingly.

“You make it incredibly easy to get under your skin, MC. So little to make you so jealous..."

She frowned at the smirk still on his lips, not bothering with a rebuttal. Instead, she grabbed a handful of his black hair at the back of his head, tugging it back so that his neck was exposed to her. She bit down on his throat, eliciting a deep groan from him. She peppered his skin with dark marks, disregarding how he would surely punish her for them later. With the last hard suck, she pulled away with a pop, looking down at her handiwork. The darkest spots were right below his ear, ones that couldn't be hidden by his high collar.

"There. Now everyone should be able to tell who you belong to," she hummed, leaning down to kiss his lips once more. She rolled her hips against his, feeling the prominent bulge against her core, and reached between their bodies to cup him, giving him a tight squeeze.

"Mine," she mumbled before kissing him roughly again, adjusting her hands to work at his belt and zipper. Soon she had his cock free in her hands, and he hissed when her thumb drew circles over the head of it.

"Only yours," he growled in return, rutting his hips up into her hands.

She adjusted her skirt beneath her, letting his cock nestle against the fabric of her underwear as she ground against him. His hands gripped her thighs, his hips trying to match the pace of hers.

"No other being can have you, Lucifer. You're mine and mine alone, understand?"

She shifted the fabric to the side, letting the tip of his cock press against her entrance, her slick there making it easy for him to slide in. His head lulled back on his desk, a groan of swears leaving him as she pressed down, fully sheathing him inside.

"I understand, my love," he finally moaned out, feeling her hands combing through his hair and tugging him up into a deep kiss.

She rolled her hips, pace slowly picking up as she moaned into their shared kiss. He kept as still as he could, though his hips betrayed him, trying to press up against her when she came down on his cock. He could feel her walls pulling him in, mimicking the possessive feeling he felt radiating off of her.

She pushed him back down flat on the desk, hands pressed wide on his chest and she bucked her hips, riding him harder. Head thrown back, her mouth open in a silent cry as she felt her climax wash over, sending pulse after pulse through her. His grip on her thighs tightened as she felt something warm fill her, his cock hard and twitching against her walls.

She let herself lull forward onto his chest, her head tucking underneath his chin as his tires arms came to wrap around her, holding her close. She could feel the thudding of his heart against her chest, and hear his labored breathing against her ear. An airy laugh left him suddenly, and she lifted her head to look him in the face quizzically.

"What's so funny?"

"You are. Silly humans and their bouts of jealousy."

She bristled once more, swatting at his chest. "You instigated it! I just want you to do something to make them--"

“I certainly do know who the demon is sending me these unsolicited gifts, my love.” She remained silent, and he brought a hand to stroke through her hair. “Barbatos and Solomon are working with me to rid myself of the nuisance. They are in fact being dealt with as we speak."

Her eyes widened and mouth went slack. A slight flush graced her cheeks as she huffed and thumped his chest once more. "Why didn't you just tell me this!? Instead of letting me act like such...such a fool!"

He chuckled, pulling her in to peck at her lips. "I will admit...I did enjoy seeing you get riled up and possessive over me. Your little pout and angry face are rather adorable to look at."

She scoffed and tried to pull out of his grip, only for him to tighten it and pull her closer to his chest.

"I hate you."

"I love you too, my dear."

#obey me #obey me smut #obey me nsft #lucifer #fem!mc #request #fanfiction #prompt request #otome-scribbles

307 notes · View notes

moxfirefly · 3 years

Note

Pretty please do angry/makeup sex with Leo

😙👌 oh boy my favorite! I’ve been having way too much fun writing Leo as of late.

Rated Explicit (18+ only)

Arguments are natural in any relationship, no matter how annoying they could get. Arguments though do tend to lead into fights. Now a fight could consist of raised voices, a verbal spat between two opposing points of view in whatever subject.

Being hard headed came easily for you, for Leonardo not so much. He did in fact have his moments of pure stubbornness, were nothing budged no matter what was said.

Because Honor Boy had to be right.

He just fucking had to be.

So the argument escalated, which at this point you had forgotten what the genesis of it was, you had refused to stop and Leo had opted to simply not accept new information. That little tidbit when it came to him had an ability to set your skin on fire.

“You’re such a stubborn brat!” You had yelled, nearly stomping your feet like a child out of frustration.

“You aren’t too far behind, you know?” He countered, moving passed you in hopes to just simply exit out the window. There was no way this would be settled with clouded heads.

Naturally that only further pissed you off, because Leo had that tendency where he rather shelf an argument and just go off to brood. “Oh great! Go ahead leave! Like that helps this stupid situation that mind you, you started in the first place” You crossed your arms, face in a permanent scowl. Leo’s foot was on the window, grumbling to himself he turned around and glared.

“Your shit might work on your brothers but not on me, you can’t control me and you sure as hell can’t tell me what to do” The rant only sufficed in making him raise a brow ridge, he crossed his own arms. “Is being wrong for once really making you act like a petulant child?” He took cautious steps, but you remained, feet planted firm and eyes shooting daggers.

He stood in front of you, towering. “Well? Just say it, it’s on the tip of your tongue”

You swallowed, glaring up at him. “Fuck you, Leo”

Something in his gaze darkened, lips pressed in a firm line. Leo trapped you between his arms, a carefully placed palm on the wall. “Say it again” He asked, voice calm. The proximity of his body, the sizzling anger that simmered between the two of you to palpable.

Why were you getting hot and bothered?

“Fuck. You.” You emphasized slowly, confidently.

Although his lips hovering near yours made your breath catch, pride slipping, wetness pooling.

“Now wouldn’t you just love to do that” He muttered against your lips, a smirk adorned his face.

You kissed him hard, not wanting to give him an ounce of a chance to gloat. He kissed back with the same vigor, every movement fighting for dominance. He gripped you roughly, hands practically ripping your shorts down your legs. He knelt momentarily to finish ripping them off, sucking a finger into his mouth he shoved the digit into your underwear and found your entrance.

“Go ahead say it again” He growled, feeling the wetness there. You gripped his digit in moistened heat, biting down on your lower lip. “Fuck! You!” Hands reached towards his belt, untying and unfastening whatever was in the way. “Don’t think I’m gonna forget about this the next time you’re beggin me while I have you tied up” He thrusted his finger, digit hitting the right spots and making your knees buckle.

“Don’t think I’m not gonna forget this the next time you want me to blow you in the Dojo” You grinned at his glare, oh that one hit a little too below the belt.

The gloating would have to wait, it was hard to concentrate when he opted to haul you up by your thighs and rear and press you against the wall of the living room. He kissed you again hard, reaching between the two of you to guide himself inside.

You wrapped your arms around his neck and gritted your teeth at the burn, not wanting to admit how delectable he sounded when he choked on air. “I guess-shiiit-I’m fucking that bad attitude out of you” He thrusted upwards, bottoming out to your whimpering moans. You threw your head back on a particularly rough thrust, eyes shutting and wailing for him.

Leo wasn’t one to be this brutal but the two of you were in a significant mood and it required a different rhythm. “Fuck-oh!-you!” You smiled defiantly at him, the growl like churr making you chuckle breathlessly. Leo dug his hands further into the flesh of your thighs, his mouth found your neck and he bit down, hard.

He pounded into you, grunting with each hit. You felt him so deeply buried inside, each pull and push burning you deliciously even when he picked up speed and that wet slapping sound could be heard.

The neighbours were sure to have a field day with this.

He sucked a bruised onto your neck, leaving the flesh with a wet pop. That only seemed to push him further into his animal instincts. He fucked into you with abandone and anger, closer and closer to losing himself inside his favorite tight heat.

“Brat, say it again...” His hoarse voice growled against your bruise. “Say it again for Sensei” You hated how your voice betrayed you after hearing that. Toes curling and release a meer moments away, you moaned. “Fuck! Oh god!” You came, eyes rolling back and body tightening against his. Leo slammed into you with one final thrust, something behind you protested. His stuttering hips signaling the last of his cum being sputtered into you. You felt him rest his forehead against your shoulder, breathing hard.

Then he started chuckling and your dizzying mind wondered what was so funny to him.

“We broke the wall” He shook trying to hold his laughter. You did in fact feel an indentation where you were pressed up against. “Great a hole the size of my ass, my landlord is gonna shit bricks” That only seemed to make him laugh more and soon enough so were you.

#tmnt leo x reader #tmnt leonardo x reader #tmnt bayverse #leo tmnt #leonardo tmnt #tmnt leo #tmnt Leonardo #tmnt Leo #leonardo x reader #leo x reader #Leonardo #Leo #ns*w #smut prompt #ask #geekgirl24

495 notes · View notes

sparkledfirecracker · 3 years

Text

Wrong Encounter

Synth’s 5K Follower Challenge / How it started – How’s it going?

@syntheticavenger , Congrats on reaching 5K and thank you for hosting this magnificent celebratory challenge.

Title: Wrong Encounter

Pairing: Ransom Drysdale x Female Reader

Challenge: Any character but arguing over being charged for something you didn’t order at a restaurant and the owner comes to assist.

Warning: 18+ only, dark content, explicit language, explicit sexual content, vaginal play/teasing?, sex/human trafficking?, sexwork, forced prostitution, forced sexwork, smut, unprotected sex, NonCon

A/N: I can’t say this enough; Synth thank you for inspiring me to write again! I could have gone any direction yet this came out and fought me along the way, so I whipped out the old skool pen and paper. Maybe a little too save on the warnings, but at least they’re there. Don’t think it is dark enough, so enjoy this masterpiece of crappiness, because editing is not making it any better with this beer I’m consuming. Also as a non-native tongue here, so ALL mistakes are my own. Only lightly proofread, so don’t come for me.

ENJOY!

Pictures for moodboard inspo found on pinterest, so all the credit goes to the respectful owners. The quote inspired the final part to this.

How it started

The red ambiance of the room mixed well with the black shining floor and hanging chandeliers, it was slick and well set up. Looking around the room had you wondering what the parties must be like at night. A colleague had recommended this new place – an exquisite night – as they had described it. Yours ending miserably having a disagreement with your waiter.

The waiter had a way of pissing you off tonight and irritation was clearly bubbling “I’ve only had the steak with sides and a fucking bottle of rose, not the entire fish tank and three bottles of your most expensive champagne” your white knuckles balling around his collar as you practically screamed in his face.

“There was another table that said you would pay for them.” It sounded like a plea of trying to settle the rage that was coursing through your body.

“OUTRAGEOUS -- you don’t fact check with your customers?” You seethed “Listen up you little shit. I want to speak to your manager” throwing him out of your grasp, making him stumble backwards bumping into someone.

“He’s already here and you have his undivided attention” your waiter stands in front of the large man awkwardly “Get back to work Jensen, I’ll deal with this fiery kitten” he nods and practically runs off.

Annoyance rising at his degrading comment. “Perfect, an insult to go with the wrongly charges to my bill”

“Ma’am please calm down, I’m sure there’s a way to resolve this mishap” his stance intimidates you

Your eyes wandered to his silver nametag “Why should I calm down, mister Drysdale? Or should I say, entitled prick?” there was pride in your comeback, no-one should ever call you a fiery little kitten.

“Ma’am, Ransom, please and watch your mouth, because we have places for woman like you.” It almost sounds like a threat and you’re willing to fight him on it.

He’s a dark enigma, you can feel it radiate from his body. You’re too caught in taking in his enchanting features and wonder what kind of sorcery this man is using on you to make you feel so small.

“Why don’t we settle this in my office” A charming smile thrown your way, but you’re too caught up in observing the blue-eyed man in front of you “Ma’am?”

“Sorry, yeah, the idiot waiting on me charged more to my bill than I even consumed.” You explained without him asking for any of it.

“Unfortunate, but it happens, please follow me to my office so we can resolve this. Can I offer you a coffee or something else for the inconvenience?”

“No – No, your waiter overcharged me. No need to sit down somewhere private for this idiotic mishap” words falling firmly from your tongue “Just fix my bill so I can be on my way and never come back.”

“Please, let us sort this out, if you just come with me to my office -- we can talk this over” His calming persistence had you hooked and you took a deep breath in.

“Fine.”

“Great, thank you – Jensen, we’ll be in my office, don’t fuck up more than you already have” You roll your eyes at the barked order, he felt superior to his employees.

You had followed him into his office, the golden name plate beaming on the door. The dark aesthetic of his office fitted well with the ambiance he’d created in his restaurant and nightclub, it felt luxurious and exclusive, sprinkled with a bit of mystery.

Ransom stood by his bar cart filled with expensive liquors while your eyes lingered on the well-stocked bookshelves. Ransom Drysdale didn’t look like much of a reader to you.

“My grandfathers, well most of it anyway, he’s a writer and owns Blood Like Wine Publishing” Ransom explained looking at your admiring gaze. You look back at him noticing his motioning gesture to the chairs “Please sit, can I offer you a drink?”

“No thank you” shaking your head at his offer, he poured his poison of choice, even though you had refused he handed you a glass. It would be rude to decline again, you accepted the tumbler letting your fingers trace the outlines of the crystal glass in your hand.

“I won’t keep you for long. What happened?”

“Tonight I celebrated my promotion and a colleague recommended this place. To find out that – Jensen, I believe his name is – added the entire fish menu and three bottles of your exclusive champagne to my bill. Only to justify it with -- the other customers told me that you would pay for them – kinda bullshit” anger returning you gulped down the strong spirit.

“I apologize for the experience. How about we forget this night? I want you to come back somewhere next week. Let us wine and dine you, give you the experience you deserved to have had tonight.” He took a sip from his own glass looking at you with darkened yet hopeful eyes.

It had been a tempting offer, was it going to be worth your time or would you be left disappointed again? “You know what, fine. I’ll be here next week, same time, same day.”

How’s it going?

One week later

Everything in you had screamed not to continue the night in Ransom’s office. Yet here you we, having had that hard liquor burning down your throat. He’d explained how you owed him now and that his interest in your aggression -- a week prior -- had sparked his desire. There was no going back, there was no way out.

Ransom’s looking forward to what is to come. For now, he’s cherishing this moment, he loves the switch being pulled, when the terror fills your eyes and start to physically fight him. They always did and he knows you will too, within the soundproof walls screaming when there is still fight left.

Your mind still trying to comprehend his plans for you. You weren’t sure what to say, instead you settled on staring back at him. Your optic view taking in his well-build frame. You licked your lips unknowingly when he flexed his pecks under the crisp white button down. Your body betraying you by your crossed legs clenching together.

“Like what you see, precious?” your wandering gaze shot up to meet his eyes, your cheeks blushed as you got caught in the act “-I am certainly liking what I’m seeing”

“Don’t flatter yourself, Mister Drysdale” you roll your eyes, leaning forward to set the empty tumbler on his desk. He’d taken a step sideways having his crotch right in your face. “Is this really how you want to settle this?”

“Ransom, I insist -- and funny you should ask.” He looks amused by your question “This is exactly how we’re going to finish this extravaganza I offered you”

He was on you before you could even make a comeback. His strong arms had lifted you from the chair, kissing you roughly. A strong – almost painful – hold on your neck, other on your hip pushing you into him feeling his stiff shaft probing against your lower belly.

You felt the shame rising as you let out a moan. His free hand hiking up your skirt, ripping your panties with his calloused hands. The sound snapped you back to reality of what was happening. You tried to push him off, but struggled in his strong grasp. Grabbing his wrist digging your nails in into his flesh.

“You evil spawn.” He roared crushing the grip on your neck, making you squirm “I was going to make this a pleasant thing, but now I’ll take what’s mine.”

“Rail me daddy.” You taunted, you knew you shouldn’t, but there was nothing left to loose.

“That mouth on you little minx. Not one to deny requests though, so the pleasure will be all mine -- Until.That.Cunt.Is.All.Fucked.Out.” with each word spoken he had rubbed himself on you, the heat in your pussy rising unwillingly.

“I just didn’t know you were running a brothel.”

“This is not a brothel, there are no prostitutes at this address. Just woman with disrespecting mouths like yours solicited for exclusive places like mine” Ransom muses “Because you’re staying right here – with me” He forces your neck to bend uncomfortably forcing you to look into his darkened orbs.

Trying to fight him, but failed under his strength. Your body surrendering to his brutal force pressing you into the mahogany wood. The chime of his belt and zip being undone echoing through the room.

“Don’t please.” You begged trying to get out of this horrible nightmare. A wrong encounter because of being wrongly charged for items you didn’t consume.

“Let’s play a little game first; if those panties aren’t drenched - I’ll let you go” Keening at the cool air hitting your clit when Ransom’s hands opened your wet lips. “But – if that sweet little honey pot of yours is soaked for me, I’ll fuck you open with just my cock and you’ll stay right here -- forever.”

“No.” you protested.

His whispered confession only proved his twisted game. “I think you and I both know what it will be.” His fingers played with your clit and prodded your entrance. A soft wail escaped at his given attention. “I think you’ll be a nice addition to my selection of ladies.” Ransom couldn’t help but smirk at your powerless expression. His confession only added to the unwavering pain of realization that you were stuck in this newfound imprisonment.

Thumbs pressing into your ass, his other fingers digging into the flesh of your hips. He slams into your fluttering cunt, the air leaving your body from his unforgiving pace. You scream loudly at the unwanted pleasure.

You’re fully trapped underneath Ransom’s body, impaling you from behind continuously. “Scream for me!” It’s an order you won’t obey and you squeak when he balls your hair in his fist “Fierce little minxes like yourself are made for places like mine” Ransom growls into your ear. “Let me hear those gorgeous sounds, precious. Scream while you still can before it vanishes. No-one can hear you, scream for ME.”

Ransom’s arm finds its way around your neck jerking you into his toned chest, your hips being bruised from the impact of the wood. Your hands grip his arm trying to loosen the chokehold, fighting for air into your lungs only to have it escape with every rut inwards. His free hand rubbing circles on your pulsating bead, his pleasured grunts making your stomach churn.

Pleasure taken from your - desperate, powerless and giving - body in his arms. He ravishes your body, like you’re his personal favourite fucktoy. Your legs start to tremble and your orgasm builds rapidly under the abuse, little whimpers escaping you. Tears streaming down your cheeks at the realisation of being solicited for a brothel.

Only seconds later your body surrendered to the fire within you, screaming out to Ransom while your body shook heavily in his hold. His arms let you go, your quivering body dropping on the desk, panting from the intense build orgasm. The lost air stings with every inhale, you’re too tired to fight him.

Ransom sat down in his leather chair and picked up the phone. You tried to look away from him, but he is fast to grab your hair and keep the intense stare. Ransom’s pride beams, he’s a heartless beast. He’s always gotten what he wanted and you’re just a new addition to his elite gentlemen’s club.

“Barber? Yes! She’s definitely the one. How I know? She’s fucked out on my desk, tight little cunt on her. Perfect for the job, draw up the contract will you” A snarled order followed by a darkened smile and filthy wink thrown your way. “Her mouth looks exquisite; I’ll make sure to reserve it for your cock. So she can suck it as a thank you!”

#synths5kfollowerchallenge #ransom drysdale #ransom drysdale × reader #ransom drysdale x female reader #ransom drydale x you #ransom drysdale x y/n #ransom drysdale smut #chris evans smut #lilo writing

207 notes · View notes

2jaeh · 3 years

Text

Bibliophile | Xiaojun x Reader

Genre: fluff, smut

Word count: 2,3k

Warnings: mature themes

Author: SIN

Two literature master students decide to make their steamy romance troupe debates a reality.

——————————————————————————

Your heels clicked against the marble floors as you ran over to the university library, hoping the evening rain wouldn’t worsen when you crossed the open courtyard.

Most of the students were either heading back to their dorm rooms or messing around in the common areas, while the only thing that rang in your head was to not be late for your part-time job at the restricted section of the library.

At first you had no damn clue why they needed someone to work there, especially since some of the books were even restricted to lecturers. But thanks to your century old university and their obsession with keeping their sacred books in pristine condition, all they needed was a literature masters student to help out from time to time.

You entered the library and greeted the woman at the front desk before she buzzed you in through to the door that led upstairs to the restricted area.

You quickly jogged up the stares and swung open the door only to be greeted by the only other person working around here, Xiao Dejun.

“You’re late again” his lips curled into a smile as he pushed up his gold framed glasses and inspected a dust covered book.

“Yeah the rain was just-“

“Crazy ?” Dejun peered up and pursed his lips, knowing that every excuse you had always ended in the same word.

“Yeah crazy” you half chuckled and removed your burgundy coat, making your way over to sign in the shift card.

All you knew about Dejun was that he finished his masters and was offered a lecture position at the university but decided to take up this job instead. He was very reserved and once told you that he craved the utter peacefulness of the restricted area, where he was usually either on his own or with you.

“I’m halfway on my thesis now” you said casually as you started fixing the binding of a physics book from the 70s.

“Oh?” Dejun raised his eyebrow and pulled out a chair next to you to tend to his own book repair, “I’m sure you’re glad it’s almost over right?”

You squinted your eyes and sighed, burying your head in your hands as that familiar migraine began to set in. “I’m....stuck” you groaned and peered up at Dejun, “I decided to dissect the romance genre of literature and honestly most of it is hot garbage.”

Dejun let out a laugh and you admired how his dark eyebrows knitted together, making his face look quite animated.

“What books have you studied if you don’t mind me asking ?” Dejun asked, his curious eyes met with yours as he shifted closer in his chair.

“Everything from Shakespeare to Nicolas Sparks, I just hate them all” you pouted and slumped back in your chair, moving the half bound book aside,

“Don’t get me wrong, I chose romance because I love it you know ? I just don’t think that those ‘classics’ do it any justice.”

Dejun nodded at your words and shrugged, “I agree with you, not a fan of that forbidden romance and rich girl poor man stuff either.”

“Right ?” Your eyes lit up and Dejun grinned at your passionate attitude. He’d always found you cute. Every so often he had the chance to work with you on a shift we’re always his best days. He’d listen to you rant about your professors, the music you hated on the radio, or the fact that someone stole your favourite parking spot.

“So....” Dejun folded his arms, “how would you change it ?”

“Change it?” You quirked a brow.

“What’s your perfect romance troupe ?” Dejun smiled softly and his soft brown eyes drew you in and made you feel warm, safe.

“Well for starters I think intimacy should come first and then the characters learn how to love each other as they develop their relationship” you explained, getting up from your chair and began pacing the small room,

“I don’t mind the cliche of they grab the same book or vinyl, I just prefer that instead of 7 chapters of them thinking about that moment they just take the leap right there.”

Dejun pondered on your words for a bit and also got to his feet, leaning against the table as he watched you pace back and forth.

“Would it work for people who somewhat knew each other before hand though ? A friend ? A colleague ?” Dejun quizzed and you nodded quickly,

“Yeah if there’s no prior feelings or hookups then why not ?”

“I guess we can’t test it then since we like each other huh ?” Dejun smirked returning to his seat innocently as you stopped abruptly and quickly tried to process what he had just said.

“I....we...don’t like each other ?” You stammered while ignoring the fact that your heart was racing against your chest.

Dejun chuckled as he carefully inspected one of the pages of his book, “the funny part is that you’re practically experiencing your ideal romance troupe and contradicting yourself by not owning up to the fact that we do in fact...like each other.”

Your mind was racing on every evening that you’ve spent with Dejun up until today. First day it’s true you both did a double take on each other and you found him extremely attractive. Day seven the two of you reached for the only hard cover copy left of Pride and Prejudice and spent the whole night critiquing the book until you lost track of time. Day seventeen you were packing books on the top shelf and as you descended down the steel steps you lost your balance and fell right into his arms.

You were literally living a goddamn romance troupe without even knowing it.

“By your words y/n, we need to skip a few steps now shouldn’t we ?” Dejuns eyes were still on his book, but he knew damn well that your eyes were on him.

“You’re right Dejun” you finally said and folded your arms across your chest.

Dejun turned his head to face you and narrowed his eyes, “I’m supposed to be the one making the move ? What happened to a change of scenery ? Uh women empowerment?”

You grabbed his hand and headed to the back of the room where the roof slightly slanted and the window panels were covered with water droplets as the night sky drew in. You neatened your blue plaid skirt and leaned against the old wood of a work station desk. Dejun cocked his head as you bit down on your lip, not knowing how to proceed to the next step.

“Why here ?” Dejun raised an eyebrow, removing his glasses and tucked them in the top pocket of his white buttoned down.

“I don’t know the setting is....pretty, also when we first met you were sitting at this desk reading the last book a literature master student would be reading” you stifled a laughter.

“Hey Harry Potter is my childhood” Dejun groaned, cutely rolling his eyes, something he did quite often and you would pester him to the point of seeing that reaction.

“Dejun,” you placed your hand on his cheek and his attention was focused on you, those soft brown eyes bore into yours as he took a step closer.

You felt the butterflies in your stomach as he softly wrapped his hand around the small of your back and placed the other on the back of your head. You finally leaned in and he did the same meeting your lips, for the first time and sighed. The kiss was soft, the two you just melted in the instant connection, basking in the feeling before continuing to deepen the kiss.

You wrapped your arms around his neck and pulled him closer until your bodies were pressed against each other, fitting each other’s silhouettes perfectly. Dejun slipped his hands down to your thighs and picked you up and placed you on the desk, not breaking the kiss as he slipped in between your legs.

“I’m afraid I’m going to want more than this” you sighed into the kiss, unable to remove your hands from his toned body as you felt the closeness of him between your legs making you feel aroused.

“Come back to my place” Dejun whispered as he began attacking your neck with kisses and played with the hem of your skirt.

You can’t remember if you said yes or just nodded but you were now in Dejuns car on his way to his place. You enjoyed the passionate kiss he shared with you at the stop street and the occasional squeeze of your thigh when he would make turn into a new road.

The rain had begun pelting down and thankfully you were already pulling into his apartment lot before it became really hazy. Dejun turned to his backseat and realized he had left his umbrella back at the library and sighed,

“Running hand in hand in the pouring rain troupe ?” He held out his hand and you chuckled, “always been on my bucket list anyway.”

The two of you ran for about half a minute in the pouring rain but it was enough to completely drench you from your head down to your shoes. Dejun quickly punched in the code of his door and pulled you inside, already covering you in kisses as his blonde hair stuck to his forehead.

It was one item of clothing after another as the trail of clothes led down to his bedroom, where he had you in just your lacy nude coloured two piece set while he was slowly ridding himself of his pants.

You fell into his bed as you watched him slowly pull his leather belt from its hoops and his black slacks finally fell to the ground,

“You are the most beautiful person I’ve ever met you know that ?” Dejun groaned as his eyes scanned over your body and he hovered over you.

“I could say the same about you Xiao Dejun” you mused and pulled him in for another hot passionate kiss. His warm body settled on yours and you wrapped your legs around his waist, wanting him closer even though it wasn’t even possible at this point.

Dejun unclipped your bra and moved his lips down to your breasts, squeezing one in his hand while licking and nipping at the other. You arched your back wanting more but also not wanting to rush him.

“Really want this to last much longer but I’m at my wits end right now” you moaned and Dejun chuckled as he peppered kisses all the way back up to your mouth.

“We have tonight, tomorrow, the next day and the day after that” he smirked against your lips before tugging on your bottom lip with his teeth.

Distracted by the stinging sensation from your lip you shivered at Dejuns icy fingers that was now hooked in the waistband of your panties, slowly pulling them down.

He watched as you squirmed beneath him. Watched how your eyes closed and how you sucked in your bottom lip, awaiting his next move.

You mewled when you felt the cool air hit your arousal and Dejun rubbed slow circles on your clit before pushing two fingers inside you, making you moan his name for the first time that night.

His fingers moved slowly but roughly while his lips softly pecked your hips, abdomen and the very top of your mound.

He was so gentle with you but his movements were still dominating, the mixture was absolutely intoxicating. You pulled him up missing the taste of his lips and before pressing his mouth on yours he caressed your cheek,

“Let me know if it’s too much okay?” He whispered against your lips and you nodded not knowing what you were in for.

Dejun locked your arms above your head and used his free hand to remove his boxers before entering you, already finding a rhythm to his thrusts. You threw your head back and moaned his name yet again as he slammed in and out of you, his grunts and your whimpers filling the bedroom.

His hand stayed locked on your wrists as he used his other hand to knead your breast, giving you multiple sensations at once. You almost hated the fact that you were close to your peak and it hadn’t been more than five minutes of him inside you.

“God I really don’t wanna cum right now” you whined as he still pounded mercilessly inside you.

“Good thing I’m not gonna let you” Dejun murmured and just as you thought your orgasm had reached, he pulled out of you and rolled onto his back,

“Get on top.”

You listened to his instructions but before sitting back on his member you gave him a few pumps, finally able to see him squirm under your touch this time round. Dejun gave you a small smack on your butt, and you finally abided to his request and sat on top of him, the new position already bringing you back to where you started.

Dejun sat up to meet your thrusts as you rode him, and you found your hand tangled in his messy locks as the two of you practically screwed the hell out of each other. The kiss this time was filled with lust, filled with lip biting and exchanging of saliva as you felt your orgasm fast approaching and noticed Dejun’s pace was slowing down too,

“cum for me baby” Dejun mused as he used the last of energy to give you a few hard thrusts until you finally came undone and he followed quickly after.

It took about two minutes of trying to catch your breath before you finally rolled on the bed next to him and wiped the beads of sweat from your forehead.

“Yeah this...this was definitely missing in some of those novels” you turned to Dejun who had a smile spread across his face.

He pulled the covers over your bodies and pressed his lips to your forehead and cheek,

“Should we write our own novel then ?”

“Yeah, yeah we should” you smiled, closing your eyes feeling at peace as his warmness enveloped you.

#nct scenarios #nct smut #nct imagines #nct angst #nct au #nct drabble #wayv imagines #wayv au #xiaojun smut #Xiaojun fic #Xiaojun au #wayv smut #xiao dejun #kpop smut

173 notes · View notes

loversandantiheroes · 3 years

Note

Anything else you'd care to tell us about what gets Frankie off (aside from manhandling you and getting you off)? 👀👀

SO! This was gonna be a nice little bullet point list, but then I got a little stuck on what would be on it and ended up distracted thinking about a couple specific points while I was hopped up on anxiety and too little sleep and too much caffeine so now it’s just a whole goddamn fic! I have been staring at this for so long I have no idea if it’s good anymore so Happy Thanksgiving / I’m sorry, YMMV.

Risk and Reward

Excruciatingly shameless Frankie/F!Reader smut, 4.2k+ words (don’t ask me I don’t know what happened either), unbeta’d bc I’m impatient and the offered beta-er went to sleep, moderately edited bc I cannot linear a thought process.

Warnings: praise kink, risky sex, dirty talk, road hand (this is apparently what it’s called???), semi-public sex, semi-feral Frankie, car sex (truck sex?), unprotected sex (do as I say, not as I fictionalize), cream pie, implied come-eating (not actually shown).

Pedro Perma-taglist: @littleferal, @thirstworldproblemss, @corvueros

It’s nothing you mean to start. It’s just a congratulatory kiss on the cheek and a soft mutter of “Good job, baby,” when Frankie thrashes Benny at a game of pool at the bar. It’s been a rough week, and it’s good to see him enjoying himself and not propped up miserably on your couch while you try to work the knots out of his shoulders and neck for the fourth night in a row. He preens a little at the attention, eyes downcast but with a crooked smile that stops just on the verge of smug. You loop your arm around his waist to keep him close, hooking your fingers under his belt, and as Frankie raises his head for a proper kiss you catch a wicked little glimmer in his eye.

His mouth hits yours and there’s nothing telling in that, it’s perfectly sweet and nearly chaste, but his hand slips up to the back of your neck, squeezing gently like a thank you. The wheels in your head are turning a little slow courtesy of the drink you’ve been nursing while you watched Frankie play, and it takes a long, long moment for the thought to finally land: he likes it when you praise him. It was possibly the easiest of his inclinations to find - the first time you’d taken him to bed and locked your ankles around him and told him how fucking good he felt had dragged such a gut-wrenching sound out of him you’d thought he’d pulled a muscle until he’d begun to move faster.

You hadn’t considered that maybe that might push his buttons outside of the bedroom, but now you’re thinking maybe it’s worth a try.

Frankie tugs you along back to the table to sit, scooting close enough that your chairs knock into each other whenever one of you shifts, but it’s enough for you to lean into the crook of his arm comfortably. You drift through the conversation, not feeling any pressing need to be included, just pleased to be close enough to feel the way laughter buzzes through Frankie’s chest.

“What about you, Fish? How’s the mechanic gig working out?”

“Eh, it’s fine,” he says. “It’s work.”

You nudge him with your elbow. “Understatement of the century, baby.”

Frankie inclines his head in reluctant agreement. “We’re shorthanded right now, I’ve been picking up extra shifts. But the boss isn’t a complete prick, and it’s good money, so…” He trails off, shrugging as if that’s the only explanation needed.

He’s modest to a fault, god bless him, and you sigh with exasperated affection as you knock your head against his shoulder. “Well I’m proud of you, baby. You’ve been working your ass off.”

Santi points a finger over his beer. “Ooh, careful, man, you ain’t got much of that to spare.”

Frankie mutters a short stream of Spanish over the top of your head - the only word you manage to catch in your limited vocabulary being pendejo - and the other man grins.

“Language, Francisco,” Santi says, one hand to his chest as though scandalized. “There are ladies present.”

You laugh, craning your neck to place a kiss by Frankie’s ear. “Don’t listen to him, baby, you’ve got a cute ass.”

His cheek grows warm, and warmer still when Benny cuts in: “All right, ease up on hype routine before we gotta call emergency services to get Fish’s giant fuckin’ head out the door.”

“We got a hacksaw in the truck, it’s fine,” you insist, giving Frankie’s thigh a squeeze under the table. “Not my fault you yahoos have never heard of positive reinforcement.”

Frankie’s chuckle is so low you almost miss it, his face hidden under the bill of his hat. Santi eyes this display with one of his impressive eyebrows hiked. He meets your gaze for a second, a knowing smirk on his face that suggests he at least is fully aware of what you’re pulling on his friend right now. You only smile, sip your drink, and let your hand wander out of sight up and down Frankie’s thigh.

Abruptly Santi thumps Benny’s shoulder with the back of his hand. “C’mon Benny-boy, I feel like knocking balls around. I’ll let you win the first round, get you some of your pride back.”

Benny scrunches his face up, scooting away from the table with his hands spread. “Like hell. You ain’t letting me do shit, Pope, I’ll kick your ass fair and square.”

Santiago tips you a wink as he ushers Benny off to the pool table. “Behave yourselves.”

“Hell no,” you shoot back, and he grins.

Immediately Frankie’s mouth brushes your ear. “You’re a menace,” he says, a little heat crackling through his amusement like dry lightning.

It’s a small effort to school your expression into something reminiscent of innocence before you turn to face him. “What, can’t a girl pay her boyfriend a compliment?” You trail your hand up, brushing the back of your knuckles against his fly. His jeans feel just a bit tighter than they really ought to, and it absolutely delights you.

His eyes seem to darken; no small feat in the already dim light of the bar. “I know what you’re up to,” he says, that small, pleased smile still curling the corners of his mouth.

“And?” you press, a little laughter coloring your voice. “Is it working?”

He doesn’t answer, but the way he looks at you suggests he finds it funny you even have to ask.

Emboldened now, you leave a kiss against the corner of his mouth and press your hand a little more firmly between his legs. “Come on. You work so hard, and you always take such good care of me. Let me be sweet on you, Frankie. You’ve been so good, you deserve a little praise.”

“Querida,” he mutters, low and light enough that his voice nearly cracks. If it weren’t for the feel of him stiffening you might’ve mistaken the tone for embarrassment rather than barely concealed excitement.

You smile at him, all sugar, and cup him through his jeans, the outline of him clear against the fabric. “Say it, Frankie. C’mon baby. Tell me you’ve been good.”

The bulge under your hand twitches hard and swells, the denim stretching even tighter. “We’re leaving,” he announces quietly, pulling his coat into his lap as he stands. “Now.”

Grinning, you stand, unhurriedly slipping on your own coat and waving as Frankie ushers you past the pool table and towards the front door.

“Good night, boys,” you call back over your shoulder.

Santi laughs, and the last thing you hear before the door closes is him announcing to Benny: “Told you. Not even five minutes. Pay up, bud.”

Ever the gentleman, even now, he follows you to the passenger side to get the door. You stretch up, offering a kiss in thanks, but he damn near collapses into it, pushing against you so suddenly the backs of your legs strike the step behind you and you almost lose your balance. Luckily Frankie’s reflexes are better than yours, even now, and as quickly as you start to feel your balance go he gets an arm around your back, dragging your body flush to his again. The surprise leaves you giddy and giggling, and before you even know you’re planning on doing it you’re giving his cock a heavy squeeze through his jeans.

“Fuck,” he breathes, breaking away. “Not here, baby. Fuck don’t get me started here. We’ll get caught.”

“Thought you liked it a little risky, Francisco,” you tease, but you still your hand anyway.

“Baby there’s two cruisers parked over there,” he says with a thin laugh, jerking his chin over your left shoulder. “Shaking my dick at the cops is not the kind of risky I like.”

You glance over and sure enough, there’s two police cars in the parking lot, one of them still occupied and idling. The men inside don’t appear to be paying you any mind, but Frankie’s right: it’s best if it stays that way. Sputtering laughter, you pull your hand away and cup the sides of his face, thumbs stroking through his coarse stubble. “Better take me home then.”

Frankie keeps a close eye on the occupied car as you pull out onto the road, eyes returning again and again to the rearview mirror for at least three blocks before he finally seems to relax a little. He rolls his shoulders, nodding, muttering a quiet affirmative to himself, and then tenses all over again when you slide your hand back up his thigh.

“Baby,” he warns. There’s a heady mix of panic and excitement in his eyes as his right hand darts out, grabbing your wrist inches away from your prize.

“Both hands on the wheel, baby,” you tell him evenly. “Let me do this for you.” And then you wait, thumb rubbing a slow circle across his denim-covered thigh. It’s an offer, not an order. You’re honestly not sure if he’s actually good with this idea, and you’re not about to bulldoze him into something he doesn’t want to do on a blind, horny whim.

He squeezes your wrist a little tighter, then nods. “Okay,” he whispers, and returns his hand to the wheel.

“Good boy. You’ve got this, Frankie. Just keep your eyes on the road,” you mutter, shifting a little closer and giving him a slow squeeze. Your heart’s beating faster now, thrilled at the prospect of what you’re about to do - what he’s about to let you do. “I know how good you are behind the wheel. What’s it Santi always says? ‘Anything with wheels or wings,’ that’s your specialty. You just focus on the road and let me take care of you.”

“Jesus,” he croaks when you undo his belt, lifting his hips automatically as you draw his zipper down and work his jeans down just enough to let his cock spring free.

You can’t help but crow a little at the sight of him: hard and wavering and already welling a glassy bead of pre-come. “Fuck, I love how hard you get for me, Francisco,” you murmur as you take him in hand, delighted at the rigid heat under your fingers. He whimpers at the praise, shoulders pushing back hard against the seat.

He’s silent as you begin to stroke him, his jaw set too tight to allow him to speak. A small whimper escapes him when you swirl your thumb around the head of his cock, spreading that bead of slickness over it.

To his credit, the truck doesn’t waver in the slightest. He damn near drives a razor-line down the highway, speed so steady you would’ve thought it was cruise control. The only real show that this is costing him any kind of effort is the way the steering wheel creaks under his white-knuckle grip. It’s still early enough that the roads aren’t fully deserted, and it’s taking all of his concentration to keep his focus on what his hands are doing instead of what your hands are doing.

The light at the intersection ahead turns from yellow to red and he slows to a stop, one hand trembling on the gear shift. In the brief reprieve his eyes slip closed, allowing himself just a minute to fully focus on the sweet, overwhelming friction of your hand. He shudders, sinking back into the seat as all the pleasure he’d tried to tamp down overspills. His hips jerk up into your hand, sharp at first and then rocking, chasing the sensation. A deep, sweet groan tumbles out of his open mouth and Frankie’s eyes flutter closed, his head dropping against the back window hard enough to make it rattle.

“Good, baby?”

“Fuck yes,” he breathes.

It’s wonderful to see him like this, so willingly overwhelmed and aching for what you want to give him. It lights you up, a bright, sweet ache that starts low in your belly and blooms out everywhere, flaring up hotter with every little sound he makes. The heater’s blowing now, warmth swirling around your legs and you hike your dress up, pressing your fingers insistently against your clit through your tights.

A moan escapes you before you can stop it, teeth clamping down on your lower lip just a bit too late. Frankie’s head whips around at the sound, mouth agape at the sight of you with one hand around his cock and the other working half-hidden between your legs. And then you’re reminded of just how fast this man can be, because one moment his right hand is resting on the gear shift and the next it’s pushing your own fingers aside to rub eagerly at your clothed slit. The fabric is absolutely soaked through, and Frankie swears under his breath.

“You get this wet for me, baby?” he all but whispers, rubbing a slow, firm circle over your clit.

Sighing, you cover his hand with your own, trying to match your strokes with the rhythm of his fingers. “Mm-hm. Just for you, Frankie. You look so sweet like this, I can’t help it.”

“I promise you, baby, you look sweeter. Fuck, I could eat you up. Wanna tear these fucking tights off you and bury my face in your sweet little pussy until you can’t think of anything else.” He’s quiet - he’s always so quiet - but somehow the gentle rasp of his voice only serves to make that stream of filth even hotter.

A sudden honk makes you both jump, Frankie spitting out a stream of obscenity in Spanish while you can only give an undignified squeak. The light, you realize as you look up, has gone green again.

Frankie fumbles the truck back into gear, waving an apology to the person behind you. As soon as he’s got the truck into gear his hand returns to you, trying to take its place between your legs again. Despite literally everything in you that desperately wants to feel those thick fingers against your desperately aching cunt, you shake your head.

“Both hands on the wheel, Frankie,” you remind him, considerably more breathless this time than the first. “The sooner you get me home the sooner you can take these off me just like you want.”

“Jesus fucking Christ, you’re killing me, baby,” he pants shakily as he settles both hands on the wheel again and eases down the road.

Control is a little harder to come by now that he’s let it slip, his body turned into a perpetual motion machine, rocking back and forth without the need for his input. He’s dripping like mad, enough that your hand slides easy back up his length. Your fingers glide over the slick head and he shudders, swearing, and thumps his heel against the floor.

“Don’t-” he chokes, and his hips press up hard against your hand as a thick runner of pre-come trickles down the underside of his cock.

You slow, squeezing him rhythmically. “‘Don’t’ what, baby? You want me to stop?”

He groans, gritting his teeth. “No. N-no, no. Just...fuck, if you keep going you’re gonna make me come. Don’t make me come like this, baby, please.”

“You got something else in mind? Tell me, Frankie. You deserve a reward. Tell me what you want.”

“Christ,” he pants, searching for words and coming up empty, his ability to think stretched far too thin trying to drive a straight line while you nudge him closer and closer to the edge. “Madre de fucking Dios, baby, goddamn it.”

Home is still a good five minutes away, but there’s no way Frankie’s going to make it that far. Grasping his cock tight at the base, you scoot in closer until your chin’s on his shoulder and you can press your mouth right up against his ear. “Easy, Frankie. Take a breath, and tell me what you want.”

There’s a thin whistle as he hitches in a deep breath, the loose front of his t-shirt drawing tight under his jacket as his chest expands. He holds it for a dizzying moment, pulse thudding so heavily his cock bobs in your grip with it.

“I want to fuck you, querida,” he whines. “Lemme fuck you, baby, please. I don’t want to wait until we get home, I want to feel you on my cock now.”

The heat that’s been pooling in your belly bursts into a goddamn fireball, and any desire you had to keep your hand on the reins in this little scenario, to make him wait for it just a little longer, wholly evaporates. The skin high up on his neck is cool when you press your lips against him, smooth at first and then raising up into goosebumps when you whisper: “Pull over, Frankie.”

“Fuck, I- fuck.” His throat works, eyes darting between the road and the mirrors, and then his arm shoots out, holding you back against the seat. There’s a side road ahead, choked with weeds and largely unused, and Frankie takes the turn onto it one-handed, killing the engine as soon as he gets the truck far enough into the weeds to be mostly unnoticed.

And then he’s on you, his mouth crashing into yours with a staggering intensity, dragging you up to straddle his lap and sliding his hands underneath your dress. His fingers hit the apex of your thighs, catching at the sodden seam of your tights and wrenching them apart. The sound of fabric ripping is startlingly loud in the small space, and you gasp against his mouth, stealing his breath.

Your head spins, wondering if maybe you teased him just a bit too far, but then there’s another rip and your panties are gone, too, fluttering down to catch on the brake pedal. The hot, wet head of his cock nudges your entrance and suddenly your only thought becomes - oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck. You brace yourself for the jolt, because even as wet as you are Frankie is big, and you’re certain you’ve worked him up so much he hasn’t got the control left to give you time to adjust.

But Frankie always has a way of surprising you. You’re tensed up, expecting force and speed and instead he pulls you down slow; taking you at a crawl when you expected a sprint, and all you can do is scratch your fingers across his scalp and whine as he fills you up, sweet and hot like honeyed brandy. He shudders so hard the springs in the seat creak as you slip down another inch, and another, clenching and fluttering around him as he buries himself inside you with a groan so deep it’s nearly a sob.

“Yes, baby,” he mutters, words returning to him in a slow trickle. He drops his forehead against your chest, his breath lovely and hot on the thin skin between your breasts as he tugs the neckline of your dress down to leave a kiss there. “Fuck yes. You take me so good. Keep going.” His fingers bite into your thigh as you sink down a little more. “Don’t-don’t stop, baby. I need to fuck you. I need to. Don’t stop.”

His body thrums underneath you as you sink down, every muscle trembling like high-strung wire, ready to snap. He’s trying so very very hard to hold on long enough to let you open for him, to be ready for him to give you what he wants. The realization leaves you dizzy, your grip tightening around his shoulders and he lets out a choked moan as you settle fully in his lap and all but gush around his cock.

You’ve got bare seconds before his patience gives out, but you settle your hands on his chest, feeling the race of his heartbeat under the well-worn cotton of his t-shirt, and push yourself just far enough away that you can look down at him properly. God, you want to move. You need to move. Every time with Frankie holds the same sense of shuttered awe, like you forget what it’s like to be this full until he’s inside you again, pressing up against nerves you barely knew you had.

It’s dark now, the streetlights barely reaching into the shaded alley, and Frankie’s face is painted only in shades of blues and blacks. But even in the darkness you can see that awe-struck look on his face: lips parted, eyes wide and impossibly dark. The first thing you think rolls straight off your tongue without a second to parse it: “You’re so beautiful, baby.”

And Frankie breaks.

He grits out a sound that’s half a snarl and half a whimper and lunges up into you so hard you have to brace yourself against the roof of the cab to keep from hitting your head. Without even meaning to you cry out, the air forced out of you in a broken staccato as Frankie plants his feet on the baseboard and fucks up into you so hard you swear you feel the jolt of it lance up brightly through your ribcage. It’s unrelenting, frantic and primal and fucking overwhelming. All you can do is wrap your arms tight around his shoulders and hang on, let him take what he needs, letting him give you everything he can.

Frankie’s beyond words. Teeth bared against your throat, arms locked tight around you. One of his hands is hooked around your shoulder, the other gripping mercilessly at your ass. Even as wet as you are you still grip him tight, especially at this angle, and it’s nearly a struggle for him to move, to drag himself out of you and bury himself all over again.

You want to encourage him. Want to praise him. God knows he’s earned it, but every nerve in your body is on fire and you can’t even find the air to breathe, let alone speak. You manage a sharp, keening whine as he shifts under you, just barely grazing your g-spot. Every nerve sparks like raw metal on flint and without even meaning to you clamp down on him tight, your body taking the initiative and trying to hold him against that spot, to chase that burn.

Snarling, Frankie shoves you back, your shoulders thudding against the steering wheel. The change in angle is sudden and shocking and oh god it puts him right where you wanted him, driving up relentlessly against your sweet spot. It’s brutal and blissful and fucking perfect, and when he shoves his hand under your dress and drags his thumb in shaking circles over your swollen clit it’s even better. It’s fucking heaven, and you’ve got no idea how much more of it you can take. Your whole body shakes, unmindful of any direction you might give it. Your hand strikes out blindly, knocking hard against the solid plane of his chest and grabbing a fistful of his t-shirt.

“Please, baby,” he groans through gritted teeth, and you have just enough senses left to hear just how close he is to coming, and how desperate he is to get you there, too. “C’mon. Come for me. Please.”

“F-f-frankie.” So close. Each thrust, each stroke of his fingers pushes you a little closer to your peak, all other sensations fading out and making room for the overload. You’re not sure if you could see anything even if it was broad daylight right now, but goddamn it you wish you could see his face...

The last thing you hear is Frankie’s shaking voice pleading with you: “Please baby.” And then there’s just a ringing, high and tuneless. You have the barest second to wonder if you’ve truly gone deaf and then, like the sheer enormity of it was too much for your brain to process at once, then you come. Every muscle contracts and you seize up, shuddering, all control over your body lost. Your throat burns, and it isn’t until Frankie’s hand clamps down over your mouth to quiet you that you understand why.

His heel pounds the floor and he thrusts up into you once more, lifting you up as he goes rigid, under you and inside you, his arms locking tight around your body. He comes with a broken sob, his face buried against your neck as he quakes his way through the spasms.

The ringing fades, and you listen to the sound your mingled breathing, harsh and labored. You tighten your grip on him, curl one arm around his head so you can brush his hair back - god, when had he lost his hat in all this? - and press a long kiss to his damp forehead.

Your throat’s a wreck, your voice rough and uneven when you finally find it again.

“Good boy,” you murmur.

“Love you, baby,” he says hoarsely, the words stifled against your skin. “Jesus Christ I fucking love you.”

“Love you too, Francisco.”

He laughs, breathless and utterly come-drunk. “Fuck, we need to get out of here. Somebody definitely heard that.”

You stroke your fingers through his hair, too pleasantly fuzzed to care overmuch about that. “Hm. I’m gonna make a mess of the seat,” you complain drowsily, already feeling him begin to trickle out of you as his cock softens.

“‘S okay, baby,” he says, the scratch of his stubble oddly soothing as he kisses his way up your neck. “As soon as we get home I promise I’ll clean you up.”

His tongue traces a shockingly warm line up to the corner of your jaw, and your legs tremble at the suggestion.

“Very good boy,” you amend.

#Anonymous #frankie morales #frankie morales x female reader #frankie morales x reader #frankie morales x you #pedro pascal character fic #pedro pascal #triple frontier #citrus variations #I will show myself to the sin bin now

1K notes · View notes

cyoc49 · 3 years

Text

HIMBO Magazine: Changing Departments

*click! click! click! click!*

Derek listened to the camera flash as he sat on the side of the bed. He was currently doing a photo shoot for HIMBO magazine, a fashion and lifestyle magazine “for the modern gay male™”. Fake blood dripped against his chest - they were doing some Halloween type of shoot. But let’s be honest, the blood wasn’t the focus of the shot: it was his body. Derek had never been the best student - and his attitude certainly didn’t help - but if there was one thing he knew how to do, it was make his body look as sexy as humanly possible. Derek scoured nutrition blogs to make sure he stayed up to date on everything related to fitness, and the dedication showed itself in his beautiful, sculpted body. Sitting here with no shirt on and wearing a pair of lethally tight skinny jeans, he looked like every gay man’s wet dream. To put it simply, Derek was hot as hell; problem is, he knew he was hot at hell.

“Alright, that’s good. I think we have what we need, thank you Mr. Hale” the director said. Derek stood up and two twinkish looking assistants came over to remove the blood. Derek stood still and tried to ignore the two obviously gay men putting their hands all over his body. Derek was the kind of guy who thought all gay men were jumping at the bit for any man they can find. Doing a photo shoot for a gay magazine was certainly not his dream, but hey: a paycheck is a paycheck.

After he was cleaned off, Derek put on a t shirt and enjoyed the feeing of it stretched tight against his pecs. He slung a Louis Vuitton backpack over his shoulders. All he had to do was collect his check and he could be done with this homo magazine. Derek headed towards the doorway connecting the studio space to the rest of the offices. He turned the corner into the hallway, only to immediately crash into someone coming from the opposite direction. Papers went flying.

Derek hesitated, then reluctantly crouched down to help the man pick up his papers. As he did, the man spoke to him in a deep voice “You know, you should really watch where you’re going. People are busy around here.”

This was the remark that set Derek off. It was enough that he had done a photo shoot outside his comfort zone, and ran into someone while he was leaving, but now he was being sassed by some worker who couldn’t slow down enough to watch out for passers. Derek had had enough of this magazine. “You know,” he said, “I’m surprised. I thought you fags would be more excited to slam into other guys.”

Derek could sense the shift in mood immediately. All the workers around him who had been buzzing about immediately stopped and looked at th scene. The office had gone dead silent. As Derek looked around at all the men staring at them, the man he had bumped into finished collecting his papers and stood up, allowing Derek to finally look at him properly. Woah, this was a fine looking man. Strappingly tall and ruggedly handsome. He filled out his expensive-looking three-piece suit perfectly. His whole demeanor was one of absolute confidence. Finally, Derek realized what had happened. He hadn’t bumped into some random employee. He had knocked over and subsequently cussed out the boss of the whole place.

*Well*, Derek said to himself, *I fucked up bad this time*.

The boss was surprisingly well-composed for someone who had just been called a slur, Derek thought. As if to prove this point, the boss suddenly started laughing. It was a good, deep laugh. And when he laughed, everyone else in the building laughed along with him. Derek stared at everyone in the office in confusion. Why did they find this so funny? Was it because he’s their boss? And they were all looking at the boss with such admiration. Derek just hoped this meant the issue would blow over and he could leave before embarrassing himself sooner.

But before he could step away, he was spoken to. “I used to get really angry when people said stuff like that to me,” the boss explained in a rich, inviting voice, “now it just makes me sad, because I see all the failed potential hiding behind that language.”

Derek took a little offense to that last statement, but he knew he was in no position to argue right now. It seemed like the laughter was the all-clear the rest of the office needed to know their boss was okay, because the normal hum of voices and keyboards had returned. Now it was just him and the extremely powerful man he had pissed off. Derek broke the silence. “Look, Mr...”

“Christian Le Maítre” the gorgeous boss informed him, “Editor in Chief of HIMBO magazine. But everyone around here just calls me Mr. M.”

“Right. Well, uh, Mr. M, I’m really sorry about-“

“No you’re not.” Christian cut him off without missing a beat. “I’ve seen so many models like you come and go through these halls. You think you’re hot shit, and take pity on all of my boys in this office who had to take desk jobs because their bodies weren’t nice enough to let them get by on looks alone. But you know, we’re hard workers here. And we’re a close knit family.”

Derek objected to being interrupted, but as Christian talked, he felt his defenses melt away with every word. Mr. M was right, Derek realized. I am a narcissistic asshole who holds myself above others. He had never felt like this before. But everything Mr. M said just seemed right. When this gorgeous, confident man spoke, Derek realized he was speaking the truth.

“What’s your name, son?” Mr. M asked him.

“D-Derek, sir. Derek Hale.” Derek was never one stutter, but how else could he feel right now?

“Well Derek, I’m sure our lame little office doesn’t fit your macho man swagger persona, but I think you’d find that working here is pretty great.”

Was that an offer? Derek didn’t know. He had completely forgotten the context of their conversation, and indeed his reason for being in this office in the first place was slowly becoming a distant memory. All Derek knew in this moment was that he HAD to work at HIMBO. In fact, he couldn’t imagine life without working here.

Derek tried to compose a response, but was increasingly timid in the presence of this incredible man. “Well, uh, Mr. M. Perhaps if you have any opening I might be able to, uh-”

Mr. M just laughed again, and this time Derek laughed right along with him.

“Well I’m shocked to hear you change your tune so quickly, but I can’t say I’m surprised. Working here is kind of a dream job, if I do say so myself. But there’s no need to submit your CV and go through the traditional channels. I am actually prepared to offer you a job on the spot.”

Derek felt his ears burning. How lucky was he! To be offered a job at the best company on earth. He would take it immediately!

“Mr. M, it would be an honor to work for you” Derek bowed his head as he said this. Respect was important, especially for the man who was giving him a job no questions asked.

“Glad to hear it, sport! Now full disclosure, it’s a clerking position. I know, not the most exciting stuff, but here at HIMBO we believe even the most mundane work can be made magical! Of course, you would have to change a few of your behaviors to *best* fit the position. Your ego, your hot-headedness. Do you think those are things good for a clerk to have?”

“No, sir” Derek said with convocation. “Anything you want me to change, I will change.”

Christian cracked a smile, as if Derek had said something unintentionally funny. “Well I admire your commitment. It’s just, clerks are so straight-laced and serious, and you are such a character, Derek. Mr. Macho Man with a great body. Actually, I do like this body.” Christian looked Derek up and down, “I think that can stay. But as for everything else, well, I can take care of that.”

Christian stopped talking and instead just looked at Derek. The hopeful employee stood there silently, unsure of what to do. Just then, he suddenly felt a draining feeling. It wasn’t his muscles or his IQ or any of that stuff that he felt fading away, it was more like he was losing... his personality? All the pride Derek felt over his hot body and great life was disappearing. All the anger he get towards people not like him, slipping away. But it wasn’t replaced by new emotions, it wasn’t replaced by anything. Derek stopped feeling strong feelings about much of anything. He liked his job, he followed the news, but he had never had any opinions of his own. Never tried to be individual or stand out. Derek was becoming like his new favorite flavor of ice cream: vanilla.

As Derek’s personality slowly morphed him into a contender for the World’s Most Dull Man, his wardrobe changed to follow suit. His designer t shirt loosened out a bit. The sleeves grew down his arms before spouting buttons and cuffs. Buttons also sprouted down the middle, and the shirt gained a collar, becoming a basic button-up shirt. A white plaid pattern spread across the shir. At the same time, Derek felt his skinny jeans go “pah” as all the tightness shrugged out of them, changing them into (gag) regular fit pants. They lightened to gray and changed material to thin cotton, becoming work slacks. His new plaid shirt automatically tucked itself into the pants, and a brown leather belt formed around his waist, with his expensive designer sneakers morphing into brown leather dress shoes to match. The LV backpack he wore fell as one of the straps broke off, before disappearing altogether. The remaining strap lengthened and slung itself over his shoulder, and the bag itself shifted into a basic messenger bag, holding plenty of important documents and paperwork.

For a brief moment, Derek felt confusion and fear. Why were these changes happening to him? Where did his nice stuff go, and what were these boring-ass clothes replacing them? These thoughts only lasted for half a second, before Derek realized how right this was. This was his style, or more accurately his *lack* of style. Derek had never cared about trends, or getting fancy new clothes. As long as they fit him well and looked professional enough for work, that was all that mattered in Derek’s eyes. A Ross Membership Card popped into his wallet to cement this change.

Derek felt something in his pocket, and pulled out a pair of black-rimmed glasses. These were the glasses he needed to see, of course. Derek opened them up and put them on. To follow suit, his hair parted itself to the side and became thick with gel holding his new professional haircut in place.

As promised, Christian had left Derek his body, but had taken basically everything else from him. Where there had once stood an arrogant, trendy mode, there was now a walking turtleneck. Normally in cases like this, Derek would sprout new memories of his new life. But no memories came, because Derek didn’t really *have* a life. He was now a total office drone. From 9-5 he worked faithfully for HIMBO, and after that he went home and solved jigsaw puzzles until it was time for bed... except on the nights where Mr. M invited Derek to his house. Derek truly wanted nothing more from life.

Christian smiled at the new corporate boy that stood before him. “Okay I think you’ve handled the onboarding process well, Dirk. Dirk, isn’t it?”

“Yes sir.” Dirk replied matter of factly. Dirk Kent. Filing clerk for HIMBO magazine.

“Great! But there’s actually one more thing I need from you. I’m still a little raw about that comment of yours earlier, and I would hate for it to taint our working relationship with each other, so allow me to bury this hatchet.”

Christian snapped his fingers, and Dirk felt his impressive manhood shrink, and shrink, and shrink, until he heard a “pop!” sound and knew that it was no more. Poor Dirk was smooth as could be in his private areas. But he didn’t mind: being unable to orgasm helped him focus on his work. And besides, if Mr. M needed help Dirk still had two perfectly serviceable holes on him.

Christian laughed again, eliciting another laugh from Dirk. “Dirk, pal, I don’t think I have ever been happier with one of my new hires. But you know, I do seal my deals with a kiss.”

“Why thank you sir!” Dirk replied with enthusiasm, as he allowed Christian to walk over, turn up his chin, and plant a kiss on his lips. And it was the greatest kiss Dirk had ever felt. Indeed, it was the only kiss he had ever felt, but as far as kisses go it was still pretty spectacular. As Dirk stood there with his lips pressed against those of his incredivle boss, he knew there was nothing more he would want from life.

As they parted, Derek looked hopefully up at his boss “Where should I start with my work, sir?” He lived to work.

Christian smiled again. “I’ll film you in on that in a minute, but let me take you to your desk. You’ll be down in the accounting department. In fact, I think you’ll be desk neighbors with our other new hire Bartholomew! You’ll love him. A total nerd but a sweet kid regardless.” Without warning, Christian turned and walked down the hall. He didn’t need to say anything. Dirk instinctively followed him, just as he instinctively obeyed every command Mr. M gave him. Life was easier that way.

#gaytf #gay #officetf #suittf #tyler hoechlin #suit #slick hair #derek hale #teen wolf tf #nerd derek #nerd Derek hale

173 notes · View notes

englishmuffinsrd · 3 years

Text

Valentines Day Special

Just Like The Books

Pairing: Shoto Todoroki X Reader

Genre: Fluff

Word Count: ...

Synopsis: Valentines day was only a few days away and Shoto had not yet asked you to be his valentine!! Were you too romantically inclined from all those books you read or was Shoto just trying to make things extra special?

SPECIAL NOTE: This story is being read aloud by Mad July on youtube!!! The link will be posed here very soon, please give the channel all your love!

Link To Video- Here!!!

Link To Channel- Mad July

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

It was less than four days until Valentine’s day and Shoto, Y/n’s boyfriend of a year and a half, had yet to request the spot as their valentine. Pure radio silence on his part. They weren’t worried though. Seriously! Y/n knew Shoto wasn’t the best with romancy stuff- it just didn’t come naturally to him which was fine! Still… everyone in 1A had a valentine. Heck even Mineta had received a love letter! Of course, everyone was painfully aware he had sent it to himself but either way- it was a bit embarrassing- what to have a significant other and them not even ask… whatever- Valentine’s day wasn’t even a big deal anyway!

Despite that- when the little envelope- wax sealed with a fingerprint- showed up in their school bag- they couldn’t help but feel the tiniest bit relieved. The paper was light brown and smelled of burned wax, after struggling for a second to open it without ripping the letter- they read to themselves:

“For every day that passes- I realize how many more I want to spend with you. Is this how Mr. Darcy felt when he was with Elizabeth?”

A smile grew on their face- Having introduced Sho to Pride and Prejudice last summer, it made their heart flutter to hear him bring it up.

“In vain I have struggled. It will not do. My feelings will not be repressed. You must allow me to tell you how ardently I admire and love you.’ It must have been…will you accept my confession?”

- Your Secret Admirer

Not only did he remember their infatuation with the book, but he quoted the line too… he was just too cute! They folded the letter and gently put it in the box in which they kept all his letters. Only to promptly pull it out and read it a few more times.

The next day- it seemed Shoto was ignoring them. In class they would turn- only for him to look away. This wasn’t like him, usually he had no trouble staring- in fact, in the past Shoto would stare until Y/n was embarrassed, not realizing how hard it was to have him look so intently.

That night- after a whole day of hiding- it appeared that Shoto had been on their balcony. Strange as it is, there was a very obvious glow of a flashlight outside Y/n’s dorm room. Sat in the middle of the balcony’s ledge was another letter, held down by a small box. Y/n took at least a minute to look at the whole set up. It wasn’t crazy or anything- just a bit cute. The flashlight shown right through their curtain so they could see the display. Eventually they reached for the envelope. Wax sealed with a fingerprint just like it had been before.

“’Doubt thou the stars are fire; Doubt that the sun doth move; Doubt truth to be a liar; But never doubt I love.’ I remember when you read Hamlet to me- I remember knowing I loved you when I heard the smile in your voice when you read those words. Do you remember? When you quoted them to me while you braided my hair? Do you remember when you leaned over and said them that last day of summer? I hope you do… Because I can’t stop thinking about them.”

- Your Secret Admirer

“Yes” they thought, “Yes, yes of course I do.”

It was a little funny, Sho referring to himself as their “Secret Admirer” when everyone knew they were dating, still- they couldn’t help but find it charming.

By the time they had read the letter for the fourth time- the icy air had chilled their skin considerably. The wind whooshed past their face, but it was hard to leave their spot on the balcony knowing he had been right there. They had already stood before they remembered the box that had been used as a paperweight.

Leaning over to pick it up they ran their hand over the silk exterior. Inside, delicately placed on a velvet stand was a silver ring- a tiny sun on one side and on the other? A tiny moon. It was exactly their ring size and was so beautiful they had half the mind to keep it hidden in a box and not wear it at all. It took a particularly cold gust of wind to bring them back to reality and go inside.

At lunch the next day Y/n sat with Jirou and Kaminari. Food was the last thing on their mind. All their thoughts were occupied with was the fact that Shoto Todoroki had been wearing a ring in class today. A ring that had tiny, engraved stars all over. They couldn’t even thank him because he was gone when class ended. Y/n had even stood quickly and ran after him to try to go looking but he was nowhere to be found.

“Hey- what’s wrong?” Mina stared worriedly. Y/n was sure everyone could tell something was up. It wasn’t the fact that they hadn’t been asked anymore-but that Sho seemed to be avoiding them. They couldn’t answer their friend because suddenly Kaminari jumped upright- startling the whole table. Jirou and the man in question were sharing a look. Jirou looking exasperated and shifted her eyes from the bag hung across his chair- then at Y/n and then back at Kaminari.

“Oh! Oh!!” Kaminari clapped his hands as if remembering something. He bent down and pulled out an enveloped from his bag- it had the tiniest of stems attached- little clusters of baby’s breath had been sealed to the letter. They looked up from their table with Jirou, Kaminari and Mina and watched Deku from across the lunchroom nudge Sho with a worried look. He just took a breath in and stared at his lap- a content smile on his lips.

“Just ask me Sho…” They thought. Maybe this was his way of asking. Previously- whenever Shoto wanted attention- he never asked- he would pull on their sleeve or tug on their belt loop… maybe he didn’t know how to ask. Either way- Y/n wanted to thank him for his gestures- to give him a gift too- even if it wasn’t as nice as what he gave to them.

“If you asked anything of me- I believe my heart always replies- ‘As you wish.’ You read to me all about Buttercup’s requests of Westly- I myself have a request of you if it is not too much. Would you be willing to meet with me at my dorm this evening?”

- Your secret admirer

And when they looked up- Sho was gone from his seat with Deku and Iida.

Tomorrow was Valentines- and y/n had spent so much time worrying whether Todoroki would ask them that they didn’t even have a gift for him. Needless to say- they skipped final period to go out and get something.

That night Y/n was nervous- “Pull yourself together” they told themselves- they’d dated over a year and yet it was still a bit nerve wracking to see him. They didn’t really get all that dressed up- just changed out of their uniform into something comfortable and made their way to Shotos dorm room. They had his gift in a small bag and while they knew he would love anything they gave him- it didn’t feel like enough. Simply him reflecting on the moments they had shared had warmed Y/n’s heart to no end.

Romance novels were sort of a part of their relationship- a little thing Shoto had never experienced before they had the chance to become close. And when y/n heard such a horrible truth? They made it a mission to read to him all their favorite stories.

They twisted their ring and took a deep breath- “It’s just Sho…” they told themselves before they knocked.

Instantly the door swung open- as if Shoto had waited for them to knock- “You’re here” he said softly- his hair was fluffier than normal, spread across his eyes- he had also changed out of his school uniform.

“Yeah” is all they could muster- eyes falling on his expression. He looked so good even when he didn’t mean to.

He slowly took a step forward and tugged on their waistband. Pulling them into his room. It smelled like wood and varnish inside- within the brief second in the room they spotted the books laying on his desk. Pride and Prejudice- Hamlet- and The Princess Bride were all neatly set in a pile next to his laptop- behind those were some other stories y/n had shown him- The Notebook, Anne of Green Gables and The Phantom of The Opera were set on his wall.

He grabbed their face- “Y/n” he cleared his throat-

“I’ve been meaning to ask you- and seeing as- “He pulls his finger from their pants elastic- his hand messily grasped at their sleeve before tightly grasping it and then letting it go. He looked at the clock on the wall and faltered- “seeing as- I have three and a half hours before well- you know- I think its best to ask- the thing? You know- Tomorrow is Valentines day and I was wondering if you wanted to stay- with- stay here… with me- until then. So, we could spend the day together?” Somehow his hand had gone back to their sleeve and was shyly tugging on it.

“Oh right!!” he let go. “What I meant was, would you be my Valentine?”

And the hand holding Shotos gift let go somehow and had pulled him in by his neck.

And you know, it really was just like the books. Time slowed down and it was so warm, and they didn’t want to move- so they didn’t.

They pulled away “Yes, yes that would be just perfect.” And then Shoto pulled them back in again by the shoulders and quietly murmured, “oh thank goodness.”

#my hero academia #baku no hero academia #bnha fanfiction #mha x reader #todoroki x reader #bnha x reader #todoroki x y/n #bnha shoto todoroki #shoto x y/n #todoroki fluff #bakugou x reader #bnha bakugo katsuki #todoroki fanfic #shoto x reader #hawks x y/n #hawks x reader #dabi x reader #shoto todoroki x reader #katsuki x reader

165 notes · View notes