#and some fun palm muting

[joyridingmp3]

sleep: learnt ✅

[lottiies]

LIKE A LITTLE PIECE OF HEAVEN

→ Sneaking around with your grandparents’ ranch hand during the summer!

CW: x Fem!reader with she/her pronouns, starts with fluff and turns into smut, switch!Leon, dry humping, cowgirl, butterfly (i think that’s the position name?), fingering, short hold the moan snippet, reader wears a sundress at one point, mention of a palm injury via a cut

WC: 1.8k

NOTE: written just for fun to entertain myself during an excruciatingly long car ride, sorry that it’s fast paced </3 title lyric is from ‘tulsa jesus freak’ also i tried my best at a southern accent for him okay

MASTERLINK

You always complained whenever your parents sent you on your annual trip to your grandparents’ place. Mosquitoes ran rampant and a prayer whilst holding hands was mandatory before every meal. Summer was supposed to be a break so you could be lazy in bed all day, but now you had to go help tend to the animals.

Sure, farm animals are cute and all…but gushing over how adorable they are is much different from actually taking care of them. So much for that ‘Charlotte’s Web’ childhood dream of yours, none of the pigs are like Wilbur!

But you had a change of attitude when you went the summer after your freshman year of college. Upon your arrival, your suitcase was hauled by strong skin-kissed hands, like if your packed belongings weighed a mere pound.

Looking up, your eyes met irises that rivaled the beauty of the ocean.

Oh.

You almost had to physically lift your jaw back up to introduce yourself. Then you ran upstairs to bury your face into your pillow.

Leon Kennedy. Would his last name suit your first name? Or vice versa? Jesus.

That first summer was full of fleeting glances and flirtatious conversation. There was something romantic about being in a space far away from civilization. Like you were in your own little universe with him whenever the two of you snuck around. During dinners, you always nudged at his leg with your boot to mess with him, liking the way he cleared his throat to ward off a smile.

And maybe you relied on silly methods to see if your feelings for him were reciprocated.

Pluck.

He likes me.

Pluck.

He likes me not.

Pluck.

He likes me.

Pluck.

He likes me not.

Pluck. Last one.

He likes me!!!

Childish excitement coursed through you, an instantaneous smile on your face. You thanked Mother Nature for giving you the answer you wanted.

You also thanked the Sun every day for gifting freckles to Leon. One day, you held onto his face and tried to count them all. Squinting your eyes, you counted aloud, missing the way he looked at you with nothing but sweetness in his gaze.

The world around you was muted, as if the cows standing behind the fence had stopped mooing just for the sake of your concentration.

“Sure this is gonna work? Listen, I’ve always been an optimistic fella but—“

“Shh, you’re distracting me.” After a beat, you groaned. “Fuck I lost count. Okay, hold still for real this time.”

“Sure, doll.” She’s real cute, he thought to himself.

Or that one time when the Sun’s beams were too hot and made Leon take his hat off so he could pour a fresh bucket of water on his head. You felt so betrayed at the sight.

“You’re shitting me!”

“What?”

“Your roots…” Not very polite, but you pointed at his hair. “I thought you were blonde. Like, born blonde.”

“Sorry to disappoint.” He hid his amusement with a shrug, lowering his head to give you a better look. “Haven’t had time to dye it.”

And of course, you owed the Moon some gratitude for being an audience member to a memory you cherished. If said memory could be physically stored, you’d keep it on a frame so you could rewatch the moment your relationship blossomed.

The confession came when two heartbeats aligned, two bodies snuggled against each other on top of the roof. Leon gazed at you as if you hung up the stars and moon that were beautifully assorted in the sky, the same ones he had admired all alone prior to you coming here. He never thought he’d have a pretty woman wanting to get to know him.

“This is crazy…I can actually see the constellations out here.” Your words were a murmur, the glimmering dots above reflecting in your pupils.

“And ya couldn’t back at home?”

“Pfft. With all the pollution in the city? Not a chance.”

“Yeah? Mus’ be a special night for ya, then.”

It was. But not because of the view, rather, because of the handsome guy holding you close like you were his girlfriend.

“Yeah, it is.”

A hat was placed onto your head. His hat.

You broke your admiration of the stars, turning to look at him instead. The tip of his nose brushed against yours, suddenly his hand was cupping the side of your face. His skin was scarred and calloused against yours, a physical manifestation of how different his lifestyle was from yours.

Books always made it seem like butterflies would be swarming in your stomach at moments like these. But you felt calm. This was fate, it was supposed to happen. And who were you to deny the universe’s pull and Cupid’s arrow?

Leon was a gentleman first and foremost. “Can I…?”

“Mhm.”

Your first kiss was witnessed by the moon.

︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶

You kept in touch through letters. Leon was old fashioned, and very rarely did he pick up his cheap flip phone when you tried giving him a call. Something about his phone always being stored away, he hardly used the thing anyway. He already had the task of picking up the mail, so it wasn’t like your grandpa or grandma would get it.

You didn’t mind much. There was something endearing about sending letters, running to the mail like you were a dog fetching the weekly newspaper. It was hard to imagine his voice sometimes when reading his letters because he wrote all properly, it didn’t match his accent.

“I’m sorry it took so long for me to send another letter. I accidentally cut my hand when fixing up a fence and it took a while to heal, it left a scar. I’m okay though, promise. Just don’t want you to think I forgot about you or anything like that. Your grandpa was real nice about it, he gave me some time off, he’s got a kind heart. And your grandma kept cooking up some soup…said it would help me heal quicker. Not sure if it’s true, but it left my stomach happy and that counts for something.

The entire time I was resting, I found myself thinking of you. Would you have patched my hand up if you were here? Kissed my pain away?

Every time I look at the moon, I wonder if you are too.”

You always traced over his handwriting with an unclicked pen before proceeding to leave a kiss mark on the corner of the page and putting it in your stored pile.

Summer became the highlight of your years. You actually packed cute clothes now, flowy sundresses and some matching undergarments you wouldn’t mind Leon seeing. Of course, you also bought some riding gear, wanting to partake in his hobbies too.

The instant you were back at the farm and the two of you were alone, Leon grabbed you by the hips and pressed you up against the outdoor wall of the house, smiling at you all coyly.

“Missed ya. Shoulda jus’ stayed here with me.”

“Thought you liked me for pursuing a higher education?” Your grin matched his. Maybe after you got your degree you’d join him more often.

“Mhm.” God, that intellect of yours was sexy. He could listen to you ramble about your ambitions for ages. “Wish that college of yers was nearby, though.”

“That makes two of us…I missed you too, by the way.” Your lips inched closer to his. “A lot.”

His cheeks turned roseate, his heart thumping as fast as the hooves of a bronco at a rodeo. “…Yeah?”

“Don’t sound so unsure! Need me to show you?”

“I’d appreciate that, y’know how I am.” Leon wasn’t the most self assured, having been worried you’d find some college guy to get with.

All it took was some more sweet talking and daring touches on your end before he hoisted one of your legs up with your permission, the fabric of your dress lifting and bunching around your hips, the plush of your ass pressed against the weathered down paint of the walls.

He let you set the pace, keeping you steady as you bucked your hips against him, your panties soaking from the friction of his rough denim jeans. Your mouths clashed messily out of pent up desperation.

It didn’t go farther than dry humping, though.

Leon made sure your first time with him was more planned out, not wanting it to be in some confined space or rushed. You rode him until dawn, your knees meeting the soft blanket he laid down against the grass with each roll of your hips.

“Ah ah ah. Slow, sweetheart, slow.” He pleaded in a throaty voice, you were killing him, milking him over and over.

“Fuck…okay.” You slowed your pace, your breaths mingling when you rested your forehead against his.

“That’s it. Like that.”

And after that, there were more spontaneous times.

You wanted to get dicked down on your mattress so that’s what Leon gave you, if only your bed wasn’t so fucking squeaky. He had to put pillows behind your headboard.

“Shh…gotta be quiet f’me.” His hand covered your mouth, muting the moans that almost spilled from your mouth.

Leon wouldn’t live to see another day if his boss found his sweet granddaughter’s ankles hugging his neck and her toes all curled.

You ran your nails against his scalp, turning his hair into a mess, taking advantage of the fact he didn’t have a hat indoors. He bit down on his lip harshly to prevent himself from groaning aloud. Yeah, he had to climb out your window after that.

You almost got caught once inside one of the rundown abandoned stalls that was in need of some fixing. You were sitting betweens Leon’s spread legs, his hand down your pants. His palm gently smacked your clit with every push of his fingers inside your cunt. Open-mouthed kisses grazed your neck, making you loll your head to the side.

If only your granddaddy hadn’t interrupted.

“Son, ya in here?” Some incoherent grumbles before he got to the point, thankfully giving you some time to smack Leon’s hand away, snickering at the expression on his face — like he was about to be put six feet under. “Need yer help with the pipe I was tellin’ ya about earlier.”

“‘m on it.” Leon called out after pecking your lips, but there was a crack in his voice that left you silently giggling as he got up and wiped his fingers on his pants. He seemed so embarrassed, sparing you an apologetic glance and then tipping his hat down to hide his flustered expression from his boss.

But who knows, your grandparents adored Leon. One day he’d muster up the courage to tell them he was sweet on you, or maybe they’d catch the two of you holding hands under the dinner table.

Either way, you were no mere summer fling, and he let that be known by adorning your finger with a shiny promise ring.

[tac-the-unseen]

I love all ur blog sm!! Can I ask abt something with the slashers (specially Thomas <3) with an foreigner!reader that don't quit speak english very well and normally forget words?

(Sorry if something is spelled wrong, English is not my native language lmao)

Absolutely, I can!

And because the request didn't specify, this fic will strictly be about speaking a foreign language.

Sorry if this is inaccurate! I'm a native English speaker and don't know many who aren't. Sorry in advance!!

Slashers x Foreigner!Reader

Micheal Myers:

•This man will act like he doesn't care but in reality he's so intrigued. (It might be why you're still alive) 

•He’ll spend his time watching you practice your pronunciation and recognition patterns, like it's a movie.

•Is he a bit mean about it? Yes. Will he laugh? Probably.

•If you find yourself not knowing what certain words are and stumble around until you find the right word, You'd be surprised at how patient he is. 

•If you are very new to the English language he'll secretly get you flash cards and stash them into a place he knows you'll find them

•Despite everything, if you ask him for help, he will help. He might be mute but he can write and use TV to aid you.

Billy loomis & Stu macher:

•Stu is already romanticizing your language, but instead of using the actual name of your language, he calls it “Talking pretty to me”

•Billy asks if you want any text books or study equipment to help you on your English speaking journey 

•Both boys are a surprising help! Stuttering trying to articulate what you mean? They've already jumped in to, A) help save you some of the embarrassment, and B) give you time to think about what you're trying to say. 

•Someone making fun of you? They're either dead or a social outcast by the end of the week. 

•Are you struggling to remember a certain word? These boys are willing play charades until you figure it out. And they won't drop it either, Stu says ‘It’s bad to give up when you've already come so far.’ 

•Over all it's not so bad (Stu 100,000,000% uses Google translate to figure out how to say ‘i love you’ in your native language) 

Thomas Hewitt:

•When both of you met, he had never met an actual foreigner before.

•He knew people travel around and occasionally some valley girl would end up in their small town, But someone from a whole different part of the world?

•His interest in you spiked the moment he heard your accent 

•Thomas has so many questions but doesn't know how to ask you

•With him being mute and your struggles with English, It's not the easiest relationship. In the end both of you just end up pointing at things and making noises to get your point across. 

•Absolutely loves to listen to you speak in your native language, Even if he'll never understand it. 

•When he's first trying to court you, he leaves you slightly damaged flowers (he struggled to pick them) to communicate his affection. 

•even with a language barrier, he's gonna love you like no one ever could 

Bubba Sawyer:

•He had no idea people outside of America existed 

•When You fell into the palm of Texas and his brothers found you failing to remember the word for your favorite snack, They knew you would be an easy target.

•When they kidnapped you and brought you to the basement so Bubba could chop you up, he was fascinated by the way you desperately tried to beg him not to kill you. 

•It ended in a huge fight in the family, But he got everyone to let you live a bit longer.

•Sits Criss Cross applesauce while you speak for your life. You could babble about anything and he would listen intently. 

•He pulls out his alphabet soup machine and spends hours typing with you. (You help him finally get past the clown level)

Bo Sinclair:

•absolute meanie, stinky poopy head about it >:(

•will mock your stutters and say stuff like “Oh come ON! The word is Cat! C. A. T. CAT! What's so hard about that?” 

•If you speak your native language around him, He thinks you're insulting him or intentionally hiding something. 

•”If you could say it to my face in your language you can say it to my face again in mine!”

•The same sentiment is not shared when it involves bedroom fun

•Will eventually apologize, But that's going to take a while 

Vincent Sinclair:

•As another non-speaking fellow he takes his time to make sure you two can understand each other 

•He’ll mostly use body language and and little doodles to get his point across 

•Stuttering over a word? He doesn't care, he'll let you work it out without any judgment!

•Want his help? He has several books, Vincent will just pull out a book he knows as the word in it, flipped to the page, and point at the word. 

•Love listening to you talk, In English or not. He'll happily let you yap his ear off. 

Lester Sinclair:

•Poor boy was lovestruck when he first heard you talk!

•Full on heart eyes while you explain where you're from and how you ended up here 

•If you end up fumbling on a word he'll start shouting out potential words for what you're trying to say. 

•Example: “and then I had too…uh…um..” “Run? Pee? Eat? Were you hungry? Are you hungry right now?” 

•So helpful, I know

•But the guy is already googling restaurants based off your native cuisine. He's got the date set up. 

•”It's no biggie, I'm a native English speaker and I still can't get it right!” 

Billy Lenz:

•Billy 100% understands the struggle of finding the right word to say 

•He can't stop stuttering himself, so when you start stuttering you kind of reinforce us in his brain that you were meant to be together 

•He feels like he can bond with you over it, and even feel safer around you knowing that you also mess up 

•the thing is if you start stuttering, he'll start stuttering. If you can't get it by God he will.

•”W-we can't bo-oth be wrong.” 

Brahms Heelshire:

•this man will 100% try to learn your language as soon as he finds out you're a foreigner

•That man has a huge library, there's bound to be at least one book written in your mother tongue 

•He spends a lot of time practicing your native language so he can speak to you more comfortably

•You already know he has children's learning books he'll pull out if you ask. 

•Can't find the word you're looking for? He's already 10 books deep, he'll find it for you. 

•Brahms is a well-educated man and he intends to use His years of learning to help 

•If you want to take classes to better your English skills he will 100,000% throw money your way to do so.

Hannibal Lecter:

•Now Hannibal really understands 

•He's a Lithuanian who learned English as a 10 year old

•He didn't struggle as much, But for the first couple of months you bet he was stumbling. 

•If you're struggling with a word, He has a process of teaching you so you don't forget it again. 

1) Identify what you're trying to say 

2)Slowly begin to sound out the word 

3)Have you recite the word a few times 

4)He'll either teaches you a little tune to remember or he'll do something so you remember the moment 

•Does it feel a little condescending? Yes. But it works 

•He's also willing to pour an ungodly amount of money into your English education if you ask 

•He'll even teach you himself in his spare time

Will Graham:

•Doesn't really know what to do, He's a bit awkward about it 

•He'll also identify the word and repeat it a few times so you can get a better handle on it.

•He thinks it's a bit funny and a bit cute when you stutter or mispronounce something 

•He will gently correct you and move on like nothing happened 

The Lost Boys:

•holy fucking shit this is a cluster fuck, let's do this one by one 

•David

-David, having been around a while, has picked up a couple languages.

-If he does know the language you're speaking he'll speak it back to you and guide you into English better than the other boys could 

-If not, he'll just read your mind and tell you what you're trying to say. It's by far the easiest way to articulate what you mean. 

•Dwayne

-Dwayne being just slightly younger than David has also picked up a couple languages 

-It's really the same if he does know your language But with a little more verbal teaching 

-If he doesn't he'll patiently wait until you figure out what you're trying to say. 

•Paul

-as soon as you start to stutter over yourself Paul starts shotgunning words off 

-some slightly related to the situation and others wildly out there 

-”Drink? Food? Ocean? Horse? The unforgiving eyes of God and His kingdom???” 

-he'll do this to confuse you and have a nice laugh 

•Marko

-Marko speaks English and Italian, so if your language isn't one of those two you're kind of shit out of luck 

-”Come on babe, you'll get it” 

-He finds it a bit funny but still tries to help in little ways 

Thanks for reading <3

Sorry if this seems hastily written together, I haven't had the request in a while so I kind of jumped at the opportunity.

[lady-of-glass-and-bone]

Sway The Stars Which Dazzle Like Pearls

Pairing: Din Djarin x female!reader

Fandom: The Mandalorian

Warnings: reader is mute due to trauma that isn't specified and uses sign language taught to her by Din, everything in italics is being signed.

A/N: I feel like I haven't written anything in forever and I was worried about not being able to get this done in time and that if I did that it wouldn't be good enough anyway. But, here it is, good or bad. If I got anything wrong as far as communicating via sign language, let me know so I can do better! My fic for the Summer Lovin' 2024 writing challenge. @pedgito @chaotic-mystery

The planet they land on seems to have an eternal night, a never ending full moon and black sand beaches. Here, the stars reflect perfectly in the still waters, a mirror image of the galaxy spread out above. She walks down the Razor Crest's ramp silently, assessing these surroundings with a sharp eye.

He watches her squat down on her haunches to scoop up a handful of the dark sand, crushing it around between her fingers like she's feeling for the quality of an expensive fabric woven on a far off planet. Her face gives little away of what she is thinking.

Din doesn't know much about her past, about what happened before he found her stowed away on the Crest and petrified of her own shadow after his (first) explosive departure from Nevarro, the tiny green kid in tow.

All he knows is that she can't talk. The words are there, he can see them tumbling around behind her eyes, but they seem to get clogged up in her throat, like a gummed up hyperdrive. So he'd started teaching her to sign.

Her footsteps crunch the gravel-sand as she makes her way over to his side, brushing her hands together to clean off the excess sand but some grains still cling to the creases between her fingers, almost sparkling in the moonlight like jewelry. She pins him with a questioning gaze and signs

'Why?'

"Why what?" he motions backs and she fumbles another word, face scrunched in frustration until she finds her rhythm

'Why are we here? Bounty?"

Din shakes his head, considering what he would call this little excursion between jobs before he replies with

"Pitstop, for fun"

"You do fun?" she pulls her mouth into a smirk, pleased at her little joke.

Din tries not to sigh. He's glad they can communicate so freely now, it's light-years better than their rough early days where any movement to sudden or big had her flinching away violently. But he has no idea how she learned to put so much sarcasm into her gestures. Not that he minds now. Anything is better than seeing that unfiltered terror in her eyes.

"Come" he turns and takes a step toward the gently lapping waters edge but doesn't hear her follow, he turns back with a questioning tilt of his helmet

"What is it?" she asks, expression concerned, still rooted in place

"Something good" he assures

"Promise?"

"Yes."

When they reach the water, the ship and the sleeping green child inside it are only a few yards away, a hulking silhouette jutting out of the otherwise flat landscape.

Pulling off his gloves and tucking them safely away, Din crouches down, the toes of his boots touching the water. His companion mimics him, watching carefully as he slowly submerges his hands in the water before carefully feeling around in the wet sand below.

She taps her knuckles into the soft place just below his beskar pauldron, knowing from unfortunate experience not to catch the armor with her bare hands, furrowing her brows when he turns to look at her, seeing her ask

"What are you looking for?"

"Just wait" Din says aloud and she leans back to sit properly on the ground, still curiously watching him dig around, one of her own hands drawing meaningless shapes in the sand beside her.

It takes him a few tries before he finds it, a small orb made and shaped by time and natural forces until it was washed ashore, waiting to be found.

Sitting back beside her, Din holds out his find nestled in the palm of his hand. It stands out stark white and shining in the odd moonlight.

She signs something he doesn't recognize at first, she watches him for a moment, waiting, and then tries again

"Diamond"

"No, pearl" he says out loud and signs it once, twice, then watches her repeat the motion.

The first few times are uncertain as her eyes dart between her hands and his, studying the movement he makes which shapes this new word. Then a couple more times, each with more confidence until

"Pearl" she signs, grinning over at him

"Good" Din smiles beneath his helmet, holding out the pearl to her, an offering.

"Mine?" she quirks a brow at him, still uneasy with receiving things she doesn't feel she has earned.

Din just watches her, hand outstretched and waiting patiently for her to accept this small gratitude.

Eventually, with the barest brush of her fingertips across his naked palm, she takes the pearl. Holding it reverently, worry flashing across her face before she curls her hand around the gifted treasure.

Din had learned to sit with silence long before he met her, so he turns his head out toward the water, then upward just a little, like he's watching the stars.

He isn't. He is giving her the privacy to feel those sometimes tumultuous emotions that come with receiving a gift.

She frowns at her closed fist, lips pulled down in a deep scowl. If her eyes look a bit glossy, she would never admit it. There's a strange feeling in the pit of her stomach, a roiling feeling that urges her to not accept this. Not to trust.

But she can see the Mandalorian from the corner of her eye, pretending to watch the stars, nervously rubbing the tips of his fingers together and smearing the gritty sand there until it sloughs off and back onto the beach.

Her courage feels like a finite thing, urgently flopping around in her chest like a gasping fish on land. She leans over closer to the Mandalorian, sees his helmet shift but not quite turn fully toward her as she wraps her arms around his bicep, the pauldron on his shoulder cold even through her shirt.

Hugging him feels like a monumental leap, her cheek pressed against the mudhorn sigil on his beskar shoulder. Her courage has waned and she feels weak, vulnerable, but the little pearl clutched in her hand reminds her that it isn't gone for good.

That it is okay to lean into her companion, her friend, who seems like a forever sturdy rock in the storm that has eclipsed her life.

Awkwardly, arms still wrapped around her Mandalorian's arm, she tells him

"Thank you."

Din makes a sound of acknowledgement, smiling gently beneath his helmet and watching her from the corner of his eye. Her face seems content and his chest constricts in pride, to see that he has hopefully earned her trust enough for her to relax in his presence.

"You're not even looking at the stars" she softly accuses, leaning forward to fully grab his attention

"Neither are you" he retorts.

She huffs a small laugh, tilting her head and raising a hand slowly toward the smooth metal cheek of his helmet. She guides him so they are face to face. Sort of.

They stare, her watching the reflection of the stars in the visor of his helmet, wondering just a little if his eyes are bright beneath all this beskar. If he's looking at her as gratefully as she is him.

Din watches her face, unsure about the hand she has on his helmet, but far more distracted with trying to decipher her expression. Joy seems too big, maybe contentment?

Either way, neither one of them is watching the stars turn above them, a precious pearl clutched between them, a symbol of more. Of hope.

[zoropookie]

HOW HATERS ARE BORN (HHAB)

♡ chapter twenty-nine — bittersweet (💋)

Reading the text didn’t bring tears to his eyes, but for some reason, it still stung badly.

It wasn’t the words themselves, but a twinge of disappointment that he felt shortly afterward. It ruminated in his thoughts the minute that the car ride started, and all he was left with was his own disappointment, and a lack of fight left.

And as he sat in that passengers seat, the words seemed to be knocked out of him yet again. The world blurred into a haze of colors and shapes. He clenched at his own palms until his knuckles turned white and his mind spiraled.

It suffocated him, but he knew a lot about that to endure it anyway.

"You know," A female's voice rippled through his chaos to grasp his attention. "It's not that bad."

He blinked, slowly refocusing his gaze and turning his head manually towards Furina. "What is."

"The (Y/N) stuff." She said, glancing every now and then from the road towards him.

His expression was of weary resignation. "You think so?" He sighed out, the words feeling heavy on his tongue every time he even spoke.

"They may be mad at you right now, but you have a plan." She said, her gaze steady. "It may not be fool proof, but you'll come out of it with a clearer conscience than that Tartaglia ever will. I promise."

But even with her promises, it didn't feel right to be comparing his peace of mind to another's. Maybe his conclusion would be completely different after all. Her words rushed over him like a soothing balm, the turmoil that he usually felt being nudged away.

For the first time in forever, he felt somewhat of a spark of determination. "Thanks." He murmured audibly, a small gasp coming from the former as he cringed, "For...all this, I guess. It's not often people are this nice to me."

"I didn't think you were capable of being grateful! I should gloat in this." She grinned, "You've grown used to people treating you like a liability. Whether you like it or not, it's not normal. Wean yourself off of that as soon as possible."

The rest of the car trip was silent. He couldn't entirely take his mind off of the events, and even the meeting he's taking himself to, but the passing scenery outside the car window put his mind elsewhere until the car slowed to a stop.

He put his back cap and mask on with less resolve than what he started with, unable to shake the feeling of discomfort her felt now that the gravity of the situation weighed down on him. He looked again out the window at the exact seat he wanted before exhaling. "If I don't come back, just abort mission."

"Don't be dramatic." Furina's eyes dulled, also knowing this situation was wary. "But...I'll be near, okay? Just in case this goes south and it actually is someone trying to kill you."

"Yeah, it's really fun being shark bait, thank you." He shook his head to himself, opening the car door to approach the cafe.

The building was more certain than he was in that moment, a warm glow beckoning the area. He never realized how little he went out these days, this same coffee shop was entirely different than the last time he came. The familiar sight and sounds of the city he used to know was suddenly unfamiliar to him.

Muted voices to him inside the little shop, all rambling vicariously. It was funny, the main reason he stopped even coming here was because things started getting busier and busier. Ei would apply pressure to him once he agreed to the streaming stuff. Did he ever really lose his identity if he never got to have one in the first place?

He squared his shoulders once the espresso he ordered was ready, quickly nodding in acknowledgement to the barista and sitting outside for a breath of fresh air. Everything around him was suffocating, and he never thought he'd be like one of those guys who are scared of having an actual life outside of their computer.

Maybe that was her plan, now that he was thinking about it.

He let the cool breeze wash over him, despite almost his whole face being covered except his eyes. He felt skittish, and uneasy, fingers lightly tapping at the to go cup of espresso in his hands. "What am I even looking for..." He murmured irritably, annoyance plaguing his thoughts.

It was a long, and arduous three minutes he sat there thinking about who Twitchpatch may possibly be now that he knew about Childe. How the fuck did he even know who it was? A familiar of his, maybe? But not that many people know about Narukami coffee shop unless someone who did told someone else.

And if they did...then there's also a limited amount of people. He didn't know what to think...until it hit him. Why would Twitchpatch, a news source, know about an indie coffee shop if they weren't also from Inazuma..?

And once he came to that conclusion as the cup was near his lips ponderingly, a feminine voice called, "I didn't think you'd be early."

His heart dropped to his stomach in an instant, his eyes slowly lifting up to meet the woman's voice. There, standing before him, was a sight that he never thought he'd be able to see again in his entire lifetime. Time stopped for him, and he slowly began to look mortified once he realized...

"What the fuck, Makoto." Scaramouche's voice cut through the air, sharp and accusatory. He almost lost it, if it weren't for her softer expression evening out.

"Hey, Kuzu." Makoto said with a softer tone, sitting down in front of him hesitantly. "I thought I wouldn't feel anything out of this, but...it's different when it's you."

"Fuck you." He snapped, his eye almost twitching from how many emotions were going through him in the moment. "Ei said you left us. You made that decision on your own."

"You're missing a lot of the story."

"And even with that in mind, I didn't do shit to you for you to play fake fucking journalist." He pointed. "Yeah, forgot about that little detail? The lie you capitalized off in humor of both of our downfalls? They're scattering to find a way for me to clear the controversy right now because of you."

"Is that not what Ei wanted? Controversy all of the time?" Makoto raised an eyebrow, sitting back in the chair. "It wasn't my desired effect, trust me."

"Yeah? That wasn't what you wanted to happen? I thought you were the one to always think about what you do before you do it. I guess. Fucking. Wrong." He seethed, his teeth grinding into each other. "I should narc on you right now."

Makoto's expression softened, and she reached out tentatively, her hand hovering in the air. "Please, just listen to me for a second."

"Why should I?" He recoiled. "I'm not even mad about what you did to me. But you had no place bringing other people into this. You don't get to waltz back in to my life after doing all of this and act like what you did was some sort of poetic justice. That's not how this works."

"I had no intention on it." Makoto sighed, her shoulders slumped as her eyes narrowed away from him. "Listen...Ei and I had a bad argument before I left. I felt like she was starting to change after all of this and she denied all of it and threatened me. I can't save a dying group if its leader isn't open to criticism."

He scoffed, bitterness tainting his tone. "And you only decided to tell me about this after you left me clueless? About where you were after you fucked off and went off the radar without a word? Are you not essentially just doing what she did?"

"I never said that what I did was okay!" Makoto frowned. "This meeting is harder than I thought it'd be...I wanted to figure out a way I could get you out of there as quick as possible, but I didn't have a way at that time. I was reckless...and it lead to this. If I had the ability to rally up more capable people for the job, I would. But this is all I've got. And you shouldn't be okay with how you're being treated there just because of what I did."

He knew that he wanted to clap back at her again, but he knew she was right in that accord. He chewed at the inners of his mouth, staring at her with an intense gaze.

"You lost the spark in your eyes, Kuzu." She said, "I've seen your streams. You're not even happy doing it, it's like there's nothing there. Why do you do them, in that case?"

"I didn't lose it." He corrected.

"Every time your stream, it feels like you're not passing time. You don't want to be there, and not many people can see it, but you used to look different...more lively." Makoto observed, "It feels like I'm looking at a carcass of what that used to be. You don't eat much, you don't sleep with what I've seen. You always seem like you're worried about something. It's disheartening. Excuse me for thinking of a way out for you."

He sighed fiercely at her, "What do you want from me? What do you want me to do about it?" He had trouble looking into her eyes. "You really...really fucked with me, Makoto."

Makoto sat in silence for a moment, the weight of their shared history hanging heavy in the air. But amidst her own regrets, she stood up after a second and gave a small smile. "You should stop, this isn't good for you. You're...like, deep frying your own brain at this point."

"How do you know what's good for me?" He bit back one last time before feeling his confidence weaken. "You don't even know a thing about me these days."

Her smile didn't waver at his words anymore, she gave him a light pat on his head in mild comfort before stepping back. "Stop streaming, Kuzu." She said, "And if it makes you feel better, air everything out. It's the least you could do for all that she made you do, right? I'm sorry I won't be there beside you to see it."

That light pat was something that he hated, but at the same time, haven't gotten the chance to be granted in ages. He never gave people the chance to get too close to him after all of this, nor even give them the reason to in the first place. It was bittersweet, his heart swelled with the same confusion and kindness Makoto gave him back them.

He wanted to prove her wrong, but he knew it was beyond his pride to keep her by his side. Even with how aware she was that she was right about him. Looking at her after a while, she could tell from his eyes that he was hurt. "I'll see you again sometime, okay? Reconcile with that (Y/N) if you ever get the chance; you seem to like them anyway beyond all the fake news."

She left as quick as she came, and with Scaramouche's previous arrogance and general disposition. He didn't know what to do anymore.

previous ♡ masterlist ♡ next

YOU ARE on your way to being one of the hottest streamer in your nation at the moment, racking a monthly average of 10 million viewers, but something specific bothers you about it. you know that a lot of people hate you, but there's this one account. one account that's been following you since the early days of your career. they leave a flood of rude comments in your stream, your moderators banned each account they made, but they keep making more. you are at the end of your tether. but you are yet to find out that this persistent cockroach is none other than your friend's friend (and the only other streamer that's bigger than you), scaramouche.

taglist ♡ @thystarsshine @veekoko @gumickajolli @simonisferal @kamiboo

@justpeachyteastea @feiherp @pinkismyfavcolor @aether-darling @kunisnaomi

@keiiqq @mine-lu @featuredtofu @danhenglovebot @k4zushi

@kyon-cherri @b4tm4nn @iiinaurate @quacking-simp @auroratumbles

@kookiibun @ulquiorraswife @amvpk01 @simplysm1le @h3xi2g0n3

@alatusorrow @scaranthropy @mellowberrie @magica-ren @vernith

@kabukipookie @bananasquash @suqarlaced @dellalyra @lightyagamifan

@yourfavoritefreakyhan @heartsforseo @yomishen @pwushizz @swivy123

@strxwberryfetish @ibyobi @ashfrommars4 @chemiru @ainnofinway

@agaygothicmushroom @levianamor @dragontammerz @wth121 @lylovw

@morgyyyyyyy @lovemari @suniika @littlesliceofcheese @yumejo89 @liuaneee

@franaby @tiddieshakeshownu @mimi3lover (bold users means i'm having trouble tagging you)

[gurggggleburgle]

Every time I think about the return to childhood extra I'm reminded that the reason it's no fun for Luo Binghe is that it forces this budding and progressive communication and understanding going on between the two to a standstill and in some ways reverses it.

And it's simply because Binghe has already been the doting child of Shizun before. He already knows what it's like to be seen as the fluffy kid hanging around his Master. He already knows what it's like to feel powerless and on an uneven ground with his Shizun. Binghe wants to turn back ASAP because he is finally getting to have an adult relationship and be seen as equal. He doesn't like being helpless (he may cry for attention but hes not helpless) but he also doesn't like being back where he was when he was a disciple.

And yeah it would suck. He can't be romantic with his own husband. He can't express himself and be taken seriously. Everyone is quick to pinch his cheeks and try to steal his husband. Your body isn't tall enough to reach the shelf you placed the pots and pans on. The knife is awkward in your child sized palms. Brooms are too tall. You can't scare off any of the people you dislike and you don't have a network of friends you can explain this too because you're a super scary demon lord and your closest possible friends are your coworkers and you happen to be their boss (and right now they might try to kill you) so you can't be vulnerable with them.

And yes. You can be open with your husband but he doesn't see the big deal the same way. He doesn't get it because functionally this is a good enough time for him because you're a cute dumpling and it's temporary. And yeah it is but also it's that you feel your husband is being nostalgic for a version of yourself that exists in the past that you don't necessarily want to repeat. Not to mention Binghe had a frankly shitty childhood. Yes his life improved once he moved in with Shizun for 3 years but that's 3 out 17. Most of that was spent in poverty and being stepped on by everyone else around him. He doesn't have a nostalgia for childhood. He doesn't miss being a kid. What he wants from that time is the lack of animosity and misunderstanding, the simplicity, that came from the abyss which by this point is mostly a mute desire. So it has to hurt being stuck in a situation like this. An emotional limbo of expression where you can't really say what's on your mind and people basically express the same opinions you're certain they already would say to your face as you stand smoll in the room. That has to hurt. That has to make you doubt things in your relationship. To hear every bias you have built in your head that others have confirmed constantly but now directly to your face while they think you're your own son.

It's a baad time.

If Shen Qingqiu had turned into a kid honestly I think Luo Binghe would have had a marginally better time. He'd love to see and dote on a tiny Shizun and pinch their cheeks and tease. But he'd be over it by the end of the week for almost the exact same reasons. Like yeah he can attic wife his husband so easy right now but he doesn't care about Shen Qingqiu being a kid. He has no reason to be invested in that experience. He doesn't get anything out if it. He still doesn't get to do what he wants which is an adult relationship with the person he loves that he can show people and present this to the world. Binghe doesn't get anything out of a child Shizun. It becomes a stall in exploring and learning each other which is the point of the extras. Yes, it probably be a wholesome good time but the same problems would happen but Shen Yuan isn't likely to nearly the same reaction because he's already a trophy husband. It's not like he's cooking or cleaning. He's already used to everyone wistfully staring at Binghe with interest. This doesn't effect how Shen Yuan processes their relationship.

It makes the fact that Luo Binghe still thinks that Shen Yuan will say no to marriage even after everything just hit harder. Because even after everything he's still thinking of that probably. There are more extras assuring him but that doubt remains and it's so juicy.

[awkward-walking-potato]

what about some headcanons of Gambit w a gn human reader who is very nearsighted and needs glasses? without their glasses they can't even see his face so when they first wake up in the morning they just squint at him to see if hes awake before they get up for the day

A Little Blurry, A Lot of Love

The morning light filtered in softly through the curtains, casting a gentle glow across the bedroom. You blinked slowly as you woke, your mind still foggy with sleep, and immediately squinted into the hazy world around you. The room was a blur of muted colors and indistinct shapes, the familiar fuzziness you were used to before reaching for your glasses.

Instinctively, your gaze shifted to the side where Remy was still lying next to you. His face was just a vague outline—messy hair, broad shoulders, and the suggestion of a grin. You squinted harder, trying to make out whether he was awake or still lost in sleep. You couldn’t see the details, but you had a feeling that the smirk you couldn’t see was definitely there.

“Chérie, you starin’ at me like dat, you tryin’ to figure out if I’m a dream or what?” Remy’s voice came, thick with sleep but laced with amusement.

You groaned softly, still squinting at his blurry form. “Can’t tell if you’re awake or a shadow,” you muttered, reaching for your glasses on the bedside table.

Before you could grab them, Remy’s hand was there, gently snatching them up and holding them just out of reach. “Ah, ah, ah,” he teased, grinning as he leaned in closer, his face still a blur to you but his proximity unmistakable. “Where’s de fun in dat? You don’t need your glasses to see how much I love you.”

You huffed, rolling your eyes even though you couldn’t see him properly. “I’d like to at least know if I’m kissing you and not the pillow.”

Remy laughed, that warm, rumbling sound that sent a shiver down your spine. “Chérie, I promise, dere’s no mistakin’ me.” He leaned in even closer, until you could feel his breath on your skin. “You wanna test it?”

Despite the teasing, you couldn’t help but laugh softly, feeling the warmth of his presence more than anything. “You’re such a flirt.”

“Only for you, mon amour,” he whispered, his voice low and sweet, making your heart flutter.

Without warning, Remy brushed a soft kiss against your cheek, the sensation clear despite the fuzziness of your vision. “See? Don’t need no glasses for dat.”

You smiled, finally giving in and resting your forehead against his chest, the warmth of him grounding you in the blurry world you were still waking up to. “You make mornings impossible, you know that?”

“Impossible?” he repeated with mock offense, still holding your glasses just out of reach. “Non, I make ‘em worth gettin’ up for.”

His voice softened, though, as he placed the glasses in your hand, his teasing tone fading into something more tender. “Here you go, chérie. I’ll let you see me proper now.”

You smiled, putting on your glasses and blinking a few times as the world around you snapped into focus. Remy’s face appeared crystal clear, that devilish grin spread across his lips, his red-on-black eyes glowing with affection.

“Better?” he asked, winking at you.

You shook your head, laughing softly. “You were right. I don’t really need my glasses to see how much you love me.”

Remy’s smirk softened into something more genuine, his hand coming up to cup your cheek. “Told you, mon amour. Doesn’t matter if I’m a little blurry in de mornin’—as long as you know I’m always right here.”

You leaned into his touch, feeling the warmth of his palm against your skin. “And you’re never going anywhere, huh?”

He chuckled, leaning down to press another kiss—this time to your lips. “Non, chérie. Nowhere but right here beside you, every mornin’, glasses or not.”

You sighed, content, as you nestled closer to him, the warmth of his body radiating into yours. With Remy, everything—blurry or clear—felt perfect

[yolehiho]

On Your Knees (NSFW)

GIP Vada Cavell x Reader Summary: You let her dominate you this time.

Warnings: porno, no plot, not proofread, gagging, choking (ig), finger sucking, blow job

Word Count: 711

Vada approached you and wrapped her arms around your waist, drawing you closer to her as she muttered, "Hey."

You responded, "Hello, baby," and Vada draws you in even closer, if that's even possible. squeezing up against her back with your front.

"So, how was the party?" She whispered through your neck, kissing your neck lightly.

In order to see you, she turned you around, and now you're facing her. "I had fun, my love," you said while scrunching up your nose.

"You’re so hot," Vada said, leaning in to kiss your jaw. She smiles a little as she kisses downward toward her chin, feeling it tighten under her lips. then continue until she kisses her lower lip.

Pulling you into the bedroom slams you against the wall. "I want you," she says as she humps you and presses her front against yours.

You smile into the kiss, and she slowly takes off your dress. She finishes stripping you until all that's left are your undies.

Your lips and hers quickly connected again. Vada inched forward until there was nowhere left for you to turn, and she was certain you could feel her hardness. Muting her whimpers as she rubbed her hardness against your back.

Your ass presses firmly against her groin, and it is both a relief and a torment.

Everything seemed even better at this point, and Vada started to feel needier. She rutted your back so hard that it caused her to whimper like a child.

She had you on your knees. "Open up," she ordered, and you obeyed. A finger slips inside your mouth, followed by another one.

"Suck on them," Vada orders, so you do, letting your tongue swirl over those invading fingers as they push deeper inside, almost making you gag.

After some time of this, Vada pulls her fingers out, raising them so she can run her tongue over one glistening finger, never taking her eyes off of you.

"Tell me," you tell her. "Whatever else you want me to do, I'm all yours, yours to play with." Vada loves how she has power over you. She grinned widely at you and nodded.

Vada said nothing as she aligned her cock into your mouth to be sucked.

Vada needed to feel your mouth on her. She needs your mouth around her throbbing cock.

"Suck my cock, Baby," she instructs while she puts her strong hand behind your head, pulling you in closer. Your mouth adjusts to her cock and draws her in, inch by inch, until you reach the bottom. "You're such a good cock whore, fuck... You take my cock so well mhmm...!"

She could stay like this forever with you on her dick like this, on your knees obeying. "Good god, baby... Hold it there," she grunts, keeping your head still with her cock shoved down your throat.

"Your mouth feels so warm," she said breathily. After you start to whine, the palms of your hands tapping her thighs, she finally pulls you away. You gasp for air as you rise from your knees, only to start jerking her off. Looking up at her with hooded eyes.

"You're so fucking hot like this, baby," she whispers.

Flicking your tongue over her head and gently pushing her hips while slowly thrusting in and out of your mouth. She was in heaven, your warm, moist, lovely mouth around her cock, cheerfully taking her almost all the way without a care. Her stomach burned with arousal, her toes curled, and her hands twitched in your hair.

She jerked her head back. She was about to stuff her cum into your mouth. "F-fuck." she heaved a sigh.

"Mhmm," you murmured out loud.

"Shit's good, baby. Fuck...-" She moaned and moved her hips. You smiled and hummed, happy with the praise. It sent shocks and waves that she was unable to withstand, and she was soon cumming on your mouth, thick and warm, excessively dripping onto your lips.

Showing her the cum with your mouth wide open, making eye contact, and swallowing it all.

Vada pulls you into the bed and wraps her arms around you. "I'm fucking drained," she mumbles against your neck, nestling closer to you. You simply burst out laughing at what she said.

[munson-blurbs]

Oneforthemunny's Summertime Writing Game

Thank you @oneforthemunny for organizing such a fun writing game! This is one of two collabs with @corroded-hellfire; the other will be posted on her blog soon!

Eddie comes home to see you sunbathing…topless ;) Janitor!Eddie x Fem!Teacher!Reader

Warnings: smut (18+ only, minors DNI), oral (m! and f! receiving), cum eating, semi-public acts, kinda subby Eddie (more simp than sub tbh), reader wears a bikini (all bodies are bikini bodies and I will run up die on that hill)

WC: 1.7k

Summertime as a kid is great. Summertime as a teacher is complete, utter bliss.

You’re laying stomach-down on a beach chair in your backyard. There’s a glass of lemonade, ice melted from the sun, on the snack table beside you. The yard is slightly shaded by the overgrown oaks, but with your level of relaxation, you might as well be on a tropical island surrounded by palm trees with a frozen strawberry margarita in your hand. 

While you’re off until early September, your sweet husband isn’t so lucky. Custodial staff still has to report to work, albeit only for half a day, because of summer sports practices. Eddie had been grumbling something about setting up the goalposts for the boys’ soccer team, though you hadn’t heard his full complaint since you’d been half-asleep this morning.

It’s just past noon now, which means he’ll be home within the next ten minutes. You grasp at the swimsuit ties at the nape of your neck and around your upper back, loosening them and tossing your bikini top into the grass below. 

Eddie’s van rumbles into the driveway shortly after that, tires crunching over gravel. You shift your weight slightly so that your chest is pressed into the rubber straps of the chair, shielding your exposed nipples.

“Baby?” you call out once you hear his door slam shut. He walks over to the gate separating the front yard from the back and unlatches the hinge, closing it gently. He stops dead in his tracks when he sees you, sans top, splayed out before him.

You turn your head to face him, smiling as his eyes widen in surprise. “Can you put more sunscreen on my back?” you ask, voice sugary sweet. “I don’t wanna burn.”

“Um, yeah, sure.” He takes the bottle next to you–just the drugstore brand, but it gets the job done–and squeezes a dollop of lotion into his calloused palm. You press your legs together, making room for him to straddle your body with one thigh on either side of yours, groin nudged close against the curve of your ass.

You can feel him getting hard through his coveralls, and he shifts slightly to try and adjust himself without smearing lotion on his work clothes. He grumbles a muted “fuck,” under his breath, assuming you can’t hear him.

“Eds? You okay?”

He clears his throat, embarrassment creeping into his voice at being caught. It seems absurd that he’s still so modest about getting turned on when he thinks he’s not supposed to, and you have to bite back a giggle. 

“Mhm. Just makin’ sure it’s even and…stuff.” 

Once you hear him close the cap on the lotion bottle, filled with chagrin as his hands leave the canvas of your skin, you flip onto your back and give him the perfect view of your bare breasts.

Eddie’s Adam’s apple bobs as he swallows thickly. “You want me to p-put some there, too?” he stammers, starting to reach for the sun lotion again.

“Mmmm, no.” You grab him by the collar of his coveralls and pull him in for a kiss, parting his lips with your tongue as his body practically collapses on top of yours. 

He braces his palms on the edge of the chair. “Baby, baby, baby, what’re you doing?” He’s breathless as you roll your hips up towards him, creating the delicious friction that you both crave.

You give him a playful pout, jutting out your lower lip. “Am I being too subtle?” Eddie’s eyes follow your hands as they make their way down to your swimsuit bottoms and his jaw goes slack as you shimmy out of them. “Are my intentions clearer now?” 

A sound resembling a growl sounds from deep in his chest as he practically tears the zipper off of his coveralls as he struggles to get them off. Giggles spill out of your lips as you watch him finally toss the offending material in the same general direction as your swim top. He’s left above you in only his undershirt and boxers.

“Be a good boy and take that off for me, hm?” you purr. Eddie feels a shiver go down his spine at your words and he quickly nods his head.

“Yes, ma’am.”

The white t-shirt and blue boxers soon go the same way as the coveralls and your husband’s body is hovering over yours. 

“That’s my good boy,” you praise him.

Eddie scoots down a bit, lips pressing against the skin of your neck, then your chest and stomach. 

“Can I taste you? Please?” he mumbles into the skin just above your belly button. 

“Of course.”

There’s no hesitation between your response and Eddie lifting your legs over his shoulders and licking a stripe up your heat. Your hands grip the sides of the lounge chair as your back arches. Eddie knows your body like the back of his hand and how to make you squirm right away. 

You’re pretty sure your lip is going to bleed from how hard you’re biting down on it as Eddie sucks your clit into his mouth. Large, calloused hands run up the outside of your thighs and rest on your lower stomach. You can feel more than hear the soft moans coming from your husband as his tongue moves down to prod at your hole.

“Shit,” you murmur under your breath. The sounds coming from between your legs are obscene but only make it even hotter. 

Eddie lets one of his hands come back down your body and he slips two of his fingers inside of you. The movement of his digits pumping in and out of you starts off slow at first, then picks up speed. It’s impossible to keep your moans to yourself at this point, just trying to keep quiet enough that any neighbors that are potentially outside won’t hear. 

“Close. Fuck, I’m close.”

The feeling of his tongue flicking over your clit joining the motion of his fingers has your muscles tensing, your legs tightening around his head as you feel your pleasure hitting its peak. One hand reaches down and tangles in Eddie’s curls, fist tightening and giving a small tug on the roots. 

“Eddie, Eddie, Eddie,” tumbles out of your mouth as the wave crashes over you, causing you to clench around Eddie’s fingers. He doesn’t slow down, just keeps working you through it with both his hand and mouth. 

Once your body relaxes back against the chair, Eddie pulls his fingers out and pops them into his mouth. His eyes close as he savors the taste of you on them. When his eyes open, it’s just in time for you to pounce on him. 

“You’ve had a hard day, baby,” you coo, wrapping your hand around his hardened length. Pre-cum pearls at the tip, dripping onto the flesh between your thumb and forefinger. “Let me take care of you, hm?”

Eddie just nods and whimpers, throwing his head back as you sink onto your knees in the freshly-cut grass and give him teasing kitten licks. 

“‘S that enough?” Of course it’s not; you know it’s not, but you love keeping him on edge.

“M-More. Please, need more,” he stammers out, legs quivering slightly. His quads flex as he tries to steady himself.

You indulge him, taking him fully between your lips. You swirl your tongue around his achingly sensitive tip, sucking sloppily. Drool runs down your chin but you make no attempt to wipe it away. He loves the way you so easily wreck yourself on his cock. 

“Feels s’good,” he groans, going weak in the knees when your hand attends to the part of his shaft not in your mouth. “Oh, fuck, that’s it. My beautiful girl.” His whines are loud, too loud considering the proximity to the nosy couple next door. They’re supposed to be at work now, but you never know who could be listening. 

“Shh, gotta keep it down,” you remind him, and he lets out another strangled whimper at the loss of your warm mouth. Pinching his inner thigh in retaliation, you say, “you want our neighbors to know that I’m sucking you off?”

Eddie shakes his head, curls rapidly brushing against his shoulders. “N-No.” Well, yes, he thinks, but he doesn’t dare admit it. 

You cup his balls, rolling them in your open palm while continuing to blow him, all too aware that you’re pulling the trigger. 

Sure enough, his throaty grunts punctuate the still summer afternoon. “Baby, mmm, fuck!” he manages through gritted teeth. You take him deeper, nose nestled in the unruly thatch of pubic hair adorning the base of his cock, doing everything you can to ward off your gag reflex.

“M s’close, shit, please let me cum on your tits,” he pleads, sounding as though he’s on the verge of tears. “Please, baby, I’ll do anything to cum on those perfect tits.”

You unceremoniously release him from your warm, wet mouth and jerk him a few times until he spills onto your chest. Thick white ropes of his spend now adorn your breasts as he stands there, breathless, his softening cock still in your hand. You take your pointer and middle fingers from your free hand and swipe at the cum, bringing them into your mouth and swallowing with a triumphant grin.  

You reach for your discarded swimsuit top, wincing when you try to fasten the ties. “Ouch,” you mutter, “feels like I did get a little burned on my back.”

Eddie’s eyes remain trained on your chest; specifically, the spot where you’d missed a bit of his cum just below your left nipple. He feels his cock start to twitch with the beginnings of another erection. “We have after-sun lotion in the house,” he finally says. “Get on the bed and I’ll give it to you.”

You throw him a wink, following his gaze to wipe off the cum before cheekily licking it from your finger.

“Oh, I bet you will, big boy.”

--

[lululandd]

problem;

pairing: simon ‘ghost’ riley x f!reader

word count: 712

warnings: self-doubt, anxiety, insecurity, eventual fluff

note: i really dont wanna paint könig, im mad procrastinating

summary: the unspoken ‘with me’  hangs in the air.

 “You packed.”

His curt tone made you flinch as you gingerly put groceries in the fridge. You tried as best you could to not look his way, hoping Simon would let the matter go. You had broken your leg and fractured your wrist in the most uncool way possible, slipping on ice. He had warned you beforehand, knowing how frail normal human bodies could be. Unlike his apparently, sometimes you wonder if he sees himself as indestructible just because he’s 6 '3.

His hand came to view and you froze, shoulders curling into yourself as you tried to subtly move away from him. Sensing your tense demeanour, he slowed his motions and gently grabbed the fruit from your hand, put it inside the fridge himself, and leaned on the counter. Not daring to look him in the face, you decided to try and continue packing your groceries. 

Sighing, he dragged your chair away from the fridge and closed it.

“You’re going to your parents?” his voice was barely above a whisper, but it scared you so bad he might have as well have shouted. “What’s wrong with staying here?”

You were on the verge of tears, not knowing why. Simon’s always busy with work, he barely comes home, and the one time he had a three month long break from it you stupidly slipped on some ice. He has to take care of you, instead of having fun and going somewhere or doing whatever he wants on his time off.

Stupid.

Useless.

“I just didn’t want to bother you with broken leg and hand stuff. My parents' place is closer to the doctor’s office and the physical therapy place anyway.”

He visibly tensed and you know you fucked up. 

“Physical therapy is after you’re fully healed.” he remarked, you saw a flicker of indignation in his eyes, “Are you planning to stay there the whole time I’m here? Every time I go to work you complain that I’m never home and the one time I come home for longer than a week you do this.”

You stared at him wide-eyed, a muted gasp twists your face. “It was an accident, Simon! You say that like I fell on purpose or something!” You say in a raised voice, appalled at his words.

He presses both palms on his eyes, “No, that’s not what I meant at all.” He squatted next to you–you never knew men that big could do that–and placed a large hand on your thigh. “By ‘this’ I meant going to your parents. I will be here for three months, and you want to stay with your parents for however long it will be. What’s wrong with being here?”

The unspoken ‘with me’  hangs in the air.

“Oh.” A wave of embarrassment flowed through your veins, you had thought of the worst of him when all he wanted was to spend time with you. With uninjured you, preferably. “Sorry.”

“You’re still not answering any of my questions, love.”

Weighing your words, you realised you can’t weasel your way out of telling the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth. 

“I don’t want to bother you, Simon.”

“Bother?” He breathes.

A shiver of apprehension travelled up your spine at the way he spoke. You’ve heard that tone before, but never directed towards you; it was always towards people bothering you two. Does that mean he sees you as a bother right now?

“You don’t have a lot of time off, and I don’t want you to waste it… here.. taking care of me while I can’t do jack shit. You have to carry me up and down the stairs, you have to carry me to and from the car when we go outside,” you gestured with your good hand, “you have to go with me to the doctors and my physical therapy, you have to do most of the cooking and cleaning, and you have to sit down and listen to me bitch about this broken leg from 1am to 4am.”

He stood up and cupped the back of your neck, his thumb slowly drawing soothing circles as he kissed the top of your head.

“You’re listing things I already want to do, with or without your broken leg.”

[lavendermin]

jing yuan on the phone with teacher reader, maybe some kind of parent teacher conference but he needed to do it over the phone?? and the conversation starts to stray away from yanqing's studies and more into personal life; what have you both been up to lately? how‘s his work? are you planning something fun for the long weekend?

and while you talk his hand really can't help but go downwards and loosen the button of his pants..

i honestly couldn't say if he’d be that shameless to do it while on a live call with you but.. it's fun to think about :3

While Jing Yuan may not do this in real life, I’d like to think it’s one of his most recurring wet dreams about the kindergarten teacher.

The normal phone call that devolves into a casual conversation then leading to something more personal. And he can’t help just how affected he is by your sweet voice over the phone. Even in the dream he feels shame for how his hands wander dangerously high up his thighs as he sits in his office.

cw | nsfw, mdni

Always in his office these cursed dreams.

There’s an adrenaline that courses through him when he puts the phone on mute to hear your voice, afraid you’ll hear how uneven his breaths get. And the dream wastes no time in tormenting him with the doubts of if he put the call on mute at all, shame out the window as his slacks sit unbuttoned now.

And the dream is cruel, how it conjures you in front of him—knelt before him in his office. You’re cruel as this illusion continues to speak of irrelevant things, your cheek preciously pressed against the inside of his thigh. Your eyes are a different color, and the inaccuracies of the dream almost piss him off.

His chest heaves, hands sinfully palming his straining cock as your eyes maintain unbroken eye contact. The words you’re saying are getting lost in the sounds that get louder. From him or outside his office he isn’t sure. And there’s an annoyed feeling in him as he impatiently waits for you to stop your pretty words so you would touch him. It makes his chest feel so constricted.

The sounds get louder, he can barely hear you now and his body stiffens as one of your hands trail further up his thigh to where he needs you.

His breathing is labored, your words drowned by a blaring sound.

The alarm is going off when he wakes up. Through strained eyes he silences his phone, groaning into the pillow as he’s left with the painful problem he wasn’t able to resolve in the dream.

It’s torture yearning for you like this.

[sweetchildcloud]

||the lil bunny and the wolf||

Plot:Toji tease you in bed,after you two married ⸜(｡˃ ᵕ ˂ )⸝♡

Toji here is cold but not with you,loves to tease you,a lot,possessive,romantic,reader is shy,inexpiernced,mute,problem at communicating,reader is autistic

Mention of abusive family (reader)

@candy69gurl @muzansslxt @kiwicopia

⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡

“You’re a terrible liar.” Toji chuckles, smiling down at you “That blush tells all.” He leans down, hands still in your hips, and your bodies are almost touching. The closeness makes him happy, but he wants more. “What is it?” He whispers, his nose just barely grazing your neck.

“What bothers you so much?”

You dind't reply as you went immediatly to take his hand and placing your chin on his palm snuggling it,enjoying his soft skin.

Toji is shocked at the sudden movement, not expecting your reaction. But he isn’t entirely mad about it. He smiles as you snuggle into his palm and you rests your chin against it, letting your body touch his.

He moves his thumb against your chin, slowly turning it upwards to make you look at him again. He leans down towards you,until your noses are close again. He gazes at you with a small smirk.

“Better?” He whispers, his thumb sliding down your face and stopping at your chin.

Toji chuckles, his smile growing wider as you snuggles against his nose. You're such a small and adorable thing, enjoying being held by his massive hands and arms. He could crush you if he wanted to.

Instead, he rubs your back gently with one of his hands, his thumb running up and down the back of your neck with the occasional stroke of your hair.

“You’re like a little bunny” he whispers, the smile still plastered on his face.

"wolf" you said in a kid tone pointing at Toji,you never talked before but you enjoyed Toji company "i like..Toji.." your words were slurred and almost silent but you couldn't stop humming

Toji’s face lights up as you whispers his name, and when you call him a wolf, he makes a playful growl.

He grins down at you, amused by your small voice. You're been mute all your life, even when you were betrothed. Now you decided to talk?

“You never spoke before, why now?” He asks, still rubbing your back gently, his hands starting to go further down your back.

Toji chuckles at your little smile. It’s adorable. For all the years that you're been mute, you finally speaks, with such a soft and silky voice.

“I love your voice” he says softly, leaning down to rest his nose against yours. “If anyone makes fun of you, I’ll deal with them personally.”

“I want to hear you laugh. Whisper. Scream. Sing. I want to hear everything you have to say”

A loud giggle erupted from your lips but you immediatly coverd your mouth "sorry…" you said looking down,pouting

Toji snorts loudly, amused by the sudden outburst. It’s adorable, and he can’t help but smile at you as you covers your mouth.

“Don’t apologize” He whispers, moving your hands away from your mouth. “I want to hear you laugh some more.”

He brings his face closer, your noses touching again as they grin at each other. “I want to hear that little giggle again.”

You giggle again at his request, letting yourself enjoy the moment with this huge man. You're always had to be silent, forced to stay mute or else your parents would punish you.

But with Toji, you feels like you can do anything. No one’s there to stop you. You're free.

“I want to hear your little giggles every day,” he continues, wrapping one arm around your waist and pulling you bit closer to him. “I want to see you smile every day. I want to see you happy. No one is allowed to make fun of you again. Only I’m allowed to make fun of you.”

His voice is low and serious, though that smirk of his doesn’t disappear. He’s dead serious, and not joking at all.

“Do you understand?” he whispers to you, as he brushes your hair away from your neck. He rests his hands on your waist as you stare at each other.

“Only I’m allowed to make fun of you, only I get to hear you laugh. From now on, no one else gets to hurt you. I don’t want anyone making fun of my wife.”

Toji pauses for a moment, studying you. You're so tiny and vulnerable, and so easily hurt by the words of strangers. It makes him hate the world a little bit.

“Promise me you won’t listen to them anymore, okay?” The former assassin whispers, his arms tightening around you as he runs his hand down your back. “When they make fun of you, you’re going to turn to me and laugh. No matter the insult, I want to hear you laugh. Then I can tell them to shut up.”

“Mhm.” Toji leans down, pressing his forehead against yours. You continue to stare at each other, and he lets out a quiet chuckle. “My beloved wife.” He smiles, his thumb stroking your chin before running it down your neck and onto your shoulders.

“And my beloved wife never cries.”

“Never.” Toji’s voice is a low whisper as he wraps his free arm around your shoulder. They’re pressed so close together, their bodies touching, but it feels nice. Warm. Toji stares at you, humming a bit, and smiles at the thought of his wife.

For a moment, he just looks at you, enjoying the feeling of your presence.

“Let’s make each other happier” he murmurs, tilting his head for a kiss.

Toji pulls you into a deep, passionate kiss, grabbing your waist and pulling you even closer to him as his lips press against yours. He presses against your bodies, making sure his arms are wrapped around you tightly.

His tongue explores your mouth, and he enjoys the feel of your body against him. He breaks away from the kiss abruptly, panting heavily as he breaks free.

“Much happier” he whispers to you, panting heavily, grinning at the sweet, small woman in front of him.

[sinisterexaggerator]

Fair Recompense

Tech x Gen! Reader

Warnings: None. Small bit of fluff and a kiss.

Word count: 1.3k

Notes: I decided to write a series of "goodbye" ficlets where the reader takes / removes something from each of CF99 as they part ways, however this one, along with Wrecker, deviated a little bit from that path. In this case, the story is left open-ended.

Crosshair || Echo || Hunter || Wrecker

---

Luck was your business, born into a family who owned a bit of property on Ord Mantell. While most had to search out creative ways to eke a living, you had it made.

As the proud owner of a spacious hangar, it meant you did not have to want for much. Credits were earned not by hard work, but by allowing patrons to dock their starships; there were never enough empty bays to go around.

Still, you were fair; you did not make it a habit to overcharge. Not only that, but you offered droids, specialized equipment, and your mechanical expertise when needed to those who could use a helping hand to make repairs.

It was here that one particular man caught your eye. While his companions found better things to do, this clone remained.  Besides being one of several million replicas of a long-dead bounty hunter, he looked familiar to you. You vaguely recalled witnessing his chiseled mug somewhere on the HoloNet; he was plagued by notoriety for a Riot Race he had won back on Serolonis, yet you failed to mention it.

Tech was his name; he did not pay you any mind as you watched him work from day-to-day. You were careful not to get too close, hoping that he would not take notice of your studious appraisal – at least at first.

Then, you found it was hard to capture his attention, even if you desired to strike up a conversation. So caught up in his own affairs, he barely seemed to register your presence except when rent was coming due.

You asked about his travels, and what he liked to do for fun. You offered him fresh Jawa Juice, and even tried to inquire about his ship.

Answers were scant, his patience sparse when it came to what he perhaps thought was frivolous small talk that served no purpose, or so it seemed. You had become so enthralled with him that your heart felt heavy in your chest with each rejection, even if it was only something you yourself perceived.  

Determination took hold as you decided to attempt a different tactic, hearing that he would soon take off on another mission for Ciddarin Scaleback. Word traveled fast in these parts, and rumors had begun to circulate; Tech was wanted by the Empire, but as far as you were concerned, his secret was safe with you.

“Tech?” you asked, more so to alert him to your approach. He turned; he was undeniably handsome, no matter that his gorgeous brown eyes rarely lifted from off his datapad.

“Yes, what is it?” he questioned offhand, fiddling with some unknown sequence of code that was reflected within the transparisteel lenses of his round goggles.

“I hear you are heading out tomorrow,” you remarked, twisting your foot against the flattop of your hangar; you kept your hands behind your back on purpose.

“Do not worry, I shall settle our bill before we vacate the premises,” he reassured you dryly. He did not give you a second thought, or even a second glance.

“I’m not worried,” you shyly stated, admiring the distinctive features of his face. “I want to give you something,” you timidly informed him.

Tech’s forefinger pressed against the bridge of his eyewear, pushing it snug against his nose. Finally, he looked at you, amber-colored eyes even more beautiful up close, or as close as you dared.

“I do not understand,” he replied, his tone neither harsh nor excited. It was an honest declaration on his end; suddenly your palms were sweating, your hold loosening on the item stowed away just out of sight.

Tech arched a brow, taking note of the minor change in your appearance with muted curiosity, yet he could not keep from adding his two credits. “You appear to be ‘under the weather,’” he said laconically, Tech’s tone changing to emphasize the usage of this specific idiom. “Perhaps you could do with some rest.”

“I’m— I’m fine, really, I—” You bit your lip, gazing at him as if there was a gulf the size of Yavin Prime between you; you felt like you might cry, however asinine the notion. “I brought you a laser-caliper, since you keep having to borrow mine,” you whispered.

“Why?” he asked; it was a sincere question, Tech unsure how he had earned such a gift when he had done nothing to warrant this show of kindness.

You brought the small tool out from behind your back, fiddling with it in your hands. You hoped your answer would be good enough to satisfy him. “Because— because you need one of your own,” you humbly offered.

“And what do you want in exchange?” The query baffled you; you had not thought that far ahead. Should you want something? All you had wished to do was make his life a little easier.

You glanced about, anxious, and suddenly unsure. Was this somehow too forward? Was it obvious you had grown to enjoy his company, however short he was with you? Were you making a fool out of yourself?

“To see your eyes,” you blurted out. The man paused any movement, his attractive countenance, as always, an unreadable mask of what you assumed to be near-cold indifference.

“I beg your-?”

“-Please,” you interrupted, your voice laced with desperation. The word had exited too quickly from your lips; you felt ashamed.

“I’m sorry—” you corrected, not knowing which way to turn, which way to walk in order to rid yourself of this overtly embarrassing predicament.

“The recompense you have requested seems fair,” Tech asserted plainly.

You mildly gasped, a small intake of breath that caught in your throat. The tall, handsome clone strode forward, holding out his hand to take the laser-caliper.

“And a kiss,” you added, too brazen for your own good; you presumed you had pushed your luck too far. Still, you waited, your wincing becoming more defined the longer his silence stretched between you both.

“Fine,” he answered tersely, causing your eyes to widen and expand. He stood before you, inactive, delaying his departure back to where the Marauder camped, eager for his tending.

Slowly, thoughtfully, you extended your arm, gifting to him the laser-caliper you had promised. He took it from you, taking the time to inspect it before squarely staring through to your soul.

“Well?” he asked, both hands full up with his datapad and the tool now in his possession. Nervously, you searched his face, then you sought to do what had previously been thought unthinkable.

Meticulously, and with the utmost care, you lifted and removed Tech’s goggles from off his nose. Once loosed from his ears, you were deliberate with your intentions; you made sure not to pull a single strand of his curly hair.

Though you now appeared mostly as a blur, Tech could still make out your expression. He noted you looked pleased, and in turn he felt slightly amused, his feelings marked by the smallest upturn of his shapely lips.

“Now?” you asked, afraid he might change his mind at any moment.

“Now is as good a time as any,” he responded, Tech going so far as to tilt his body forward, his mouth mere centimeters from your own.

You craned your neck, taking a new liberty, your free hand meeting the turn of his cheek. You cradled his firm jaw in the crook of your palm as you unabashedly lingered, pressing into the soft flesh of his downy lips.

Then, he surprised you; he had clipped his datapad to his belt in one fluid motion, the backs of his gloved fingers tracing the curved line of your jaw. His caress extended from the base of your ear to the start of your soft neck; you could not help but to relax at his welcomed touch.

Your eyes closed as he attempted to deepen your kiss, the sound of your heartbeat drumming in your ears as you allowed Tech to take the lead.

It would last longer than you had ever hoped for, stealing your breath away. Once you found the wherewithal to break free of your shared embrace, Tech gave you the equivalent of a knowing smirk.

“Truth be told, I thought you would never ask.”

[winxanity-ii]

⌜Know No Evil | Chapter 04 Chapter 04 | emerging predator⌟

╰ ⌞🇨‌🇭‌🇦‌🇵‌🇹‌🇪‌🇷‌ 🇮‌🇳‌🇩‌🇪‌🇽‌⌝

❘ prev. chapter ❘༻✦༺❘ next chapter ❘

Stepping outside with your father felt like entering a whole new world. Gone were the familiar, if slightly rundown, streets you saw from your window. Instead, vibrant shops and bustling cafes lined the sidewalks, their colorful awnings casting playful patterns on the sun-drenched pavement.

It was a stark contrast to your usual world, one carefully curated by your mother's anxieties and confined within the walls of your apartment.

Today, however, your father, emboldened by a rare burst of parental responsibility (or perhaps a guilty conscience), had decided to take you to the park. Not the one your mother frequented, a secluded affair several blocks away, but the popular one just down the street. The one teeming with life, with children your age laughing and playing with an abandon you'd only witnessed on television.

Despite the excitement bubbling within you, a tiny spark of unease flickered in your chest. This was uncharted territory. Your world, meticulously planned by your mother, had always prioritized safety over socialization. So now, plopped into this hurricane of sounds and sights, you felt a sense of vulnerability you hadn't experienced before.

Your father, oblivious to your internal turmoil, seemed to bask in the sunshine. "Ready for some fun, Y/N?" he boomed, his voice filled with an fake enthusiasm that felt foreign coming from him.

You offered a hesitant nod, your gaze darting around as you took in the scene.

There were children everywhere—on bikes, climbing structures, chasing each other with shrieks of laughter. This wasn't the curated silence of your homeschool sessions; this was a symphony of chaos, and you weren't sure if you hated it or loved it.

An undeniable pull, however, led you towards the swings. There were only one of them—its brightly colored seat swaying gently in the breeze, invitingly.

Mustering all your courage, you walked towards it, a strange mix of excitement and apprehension swirling within you. The ground beneath your feet felt different—softer, somehow, than the worn rug in your living room.

As you approached the swing, the sounds of the park seemed to fade away, replaced by a low hum that resonated deep within your chest.

You reached out and grasped the cool metal chains, a tremor running through your fingertips just as a hand slammed down on the opposite chain.

You looked up to find a boy with spiky blond hair glaring down at you, his crimson eyes burning with an intensity that startled you.  "This is my swing. Get lost, extra," he declared, his voice rough and demanding.  He yanked the chain, forcing the swing to lurch forward.

"No," you replied calmly, your voice surprisingly steady despite the tremor in your hands.  "I had it first."  You pulled back gently, trying to reclaim your spot.

The boy's face contorted in fury.  "So what?" he yelled, his voice laced with a hostility you weren't used to.  "Give it to me! I want to swing!"

You repeated yourself, this time with an unwavering firmness. "I said, I had it first."  There was no anger in your voice, just a quiet insistence on fairness.

The boy, clearly frustrated by your lack of reaction to his outburst, scoffed.  With a shove, he sent you stumbling back.  You landed hard on the ground, scraping your palms on the rough pavement.

For a moment, you sat there, stunned.

Slowly, you rose your hands, turning them over to examine the scrapes. Red bubbled up at the scratches, a small trail glistening crimson as it snaked down your wrist.

Blood.

Your pupils dilated, zeroing in on the wound with a strange fascination.

It stung, a dull throb that pulsed with your heartbeat. But the pain was distant, muted by a cold wave of anger that washed over you.

It wasn't the sting of the scrape that held your attention, but the sight of your own blood.

This wasn't tears...wasn't weakness.

This was different.

This was a mark, a sign that you were just sitting there taking it.

The anger, fueled by the boy's unprovoked aggression, simmered within you, a dark fire stoked by the crimson staining your hands.

Slowly, you pushed yourself up, brushing the dirt off your clothes. You turned to the boy, who was now smugly swinging back and forth on the swing, a cruel smile plastered on his face.

The sight of his joy sparked a new wave of anger within you. You marched towards the swing, your steps purposeful and heavy.

The boy didn't notice your approach until he was mid-swing, his back momentarily turned. In that instant, you saw your opportunity.

With a cold, calculated shove, you pushed him on the back—not a forceful push, but a small push delivered with surprising little strength considering your anger.

The boy shrieked in surprise, his laughter cut short. He tumbled forward, landing face-first on the ground with a sickening thud.

He wasn't laughing anymore.

The swing had stopped abruptly, and the boy laid sprawled on the ground, a whimper escaping his lips.  His face crumpled in pain as he inspected his scraped hands, mirroring the sting on your own palms.

A spark of confusion flickered through your anger. You hadn't pushed him that hard, yet here he was bawling as if you didn't just go through the same thing.

The longer you watched him cry about his injuries, the more a new, unsettling feeling grew within you.

It wasn't sympathy, not entirely. It was irritation.

Here you were, both of you scraped and hurting, but you weren't the one bawling like a baby.

He was weak.

Your face fell into a scowl as his whimpers grew louder. A hot feeling bubbled deep within your stomach, a churning sensation that rose into your throat like a bitter tide.

It wasn't just anger anymore; it was a primal dominance, a sense of superiority fueled by his vulnerability.

"Stop crying,"you said, your voice devoid of warmth, laced with a chilling command.

The boy's sniffles ceased instantly, replaced by a watery silence.

He looked up at you, his red eyes wide and glistening. There was no defiance in his gaze, just a strange mixture of fear and something that almost resembled...submission.

"Stand up," you ordered, your voice laced with a newfound authority.

He complied, his lower lip trembling slightly.

Humming thoughtfully, you tilted your head, a predatory glint flashing in your eyes.

The world around you seemed to shift subtly. It was as if everything—the other children playing, the bustling city life, even the birds chirping in the trees—had faded away.

In their place, you saw only the boy, his tear-streaked face, his trembling form.

You motioned for him to join you. "Come,"you said, a hint of a sinister amusement coloring your tone.

He hesitated, then slowly walked towards you, his head bowed, a defeated shadow of his former bravado.

As you turned to lead him towards a more secluded part, away from the watchful eyes of the adults and the carefree shrieks of other children, you couldn't help but notice two figures approaching.

"Hey!" one of them called out, a boisterous brown-haired boy with a mischievous glint in his eyes. "Did you get that weirdo off the swing like you said you would?"

The other boy, shorter and stockier with dark hair, nudged his friend.  "Yeah, come on! Don't tell me you lost to a girl!"

Their taunts hung heavy in the air, a stark contrast to the chilling silence that surrounded you and the boy. The brunette boy, oblivious to the shift in power dynamics, reached out to grab the blond's shoulder, his touch filled with careless camaraderie.

But the boy didn't react.  He didn't flinch, didn't snarl his usual retort.  His gaze remained fixed on you, his red eyes wide and unblinking.

A flicker of confusion crossed the brunette boy's face, his hand hovering awkwardly in mid-air. "Bakugo?" he questioned, his voice laced with a hint of unease.

The name registered in your mind.

"Leave us alone," you finally said, your voice flat and devoid of emotion.  It wasn't a request; it was a command.

The two boys stared at you, taken aback by your sudden presence and the chilling authority that emanated from you.

The brunette boy slowly retracted his hand, his bravado replaced by a wary curiosity. "W-Who are you?" he stammered, his voice barely a whisper.

You didn't answer.  You didn't need to.

A low growl echoed from behind you. Bakugo, his eyes still glazed over, turned with a sluggish grunt. "Didn't she stutter, extras?" he rasped, his voice devoid of its usual fire but laced with a dangerous edge.  He sparked his hands, the familiar crackling a stark contrast to his monotone voice. "Get lost 'fore I make you!"

The boys flinched back in unison, fear replacing their previous curiosity. The shorter one grabbed his friend's arm, his voice barely above a squeak. "Whatever, Bakugo, you're such a jerk!"

"Yeah, come on, let's just go," the brunette mumbled, clearly shaken. They didn't dare argue further, the shorter one practically dragging his friend away.

As soon as they were out of sight, the spark in Bakugo's hands died down and his shoulders slumped. He turned back to you, his posture returning to its previous desolate state.

You tilted your head, studying him with a detached curiosity.

There it was again—that flicker of obedience, that unquestioning response to your command. Even in this dazed state, he'd moved to protect you, to follow your will without hesitation.

With a silent flick of your head, you continued walking towards the secluded area, Bakugo following close behind like a shadow tethered to your will. And as he followed, a disturbing thought flickered across your mind: he resembled a puppy, eager to please his master.

A twisted pleasure bloomed in your stomach at the comparison.

And in that moment, with a horrifying clarity, it all clicked.  The whispers of power during your tantrum, the strange sensation on the swings—it all made sense.

A low chuckle escaped your lips, a sound devoid of humor. "Puppy~" you echoed, the word tasting sweet on your tongue. It felt like a fitting name for him now, a reminder of his whimpering and his newfound submission.

As you watched Bakugo's once-egotistical eyes stare dazed up at you, a truth settled in your stomach with the weight of a revelation. You were no longer just a quirkless-normie.

You had power.

A thrill shot through you, a current of raw electricity that sparked a maniacal glint in your eyes.

I'm special, you thought, the words echoing in your mind like a mantra wasn't just a whisper; it was a triumphant roar that resonated deep within you. I'm special, I'm special, I'm special.

But the most intoxicating sensation came from Bakugo himself. It wasn't a physical connection, but something far more primal. It felt like his very will, his defiance, his ego—once so fierce—now flowed towards you like a tethered kite on a gentle breeze.

You could almost feel it, a faint vibration against your very being, a melody sung on a frequency only you could hear.

It was exhilarating.  It was terrifying.  It was a power you barely understood, yet you craved to explore its depths.

A predatory smile stretched across your face, sending shivers down your spine.  This wasn't just about dominance; it was about control.

You tilted your head, studying him with a predatory curiosity. This new power you possessed demanded exploration, and this boy, Bakugo as you now knew him, was the first test subject.

"What's your name, puppy?" you asked, your voice soft but laced with an undercurrent of control. The way you phrased it wasn't a question; it was an order, a demand for information you expected him to fulfill.

Bakugo, his eyes still wide and watery, did not meet your gaze. His body remained slack, lost in a daze as if the world had muted around him. A single word escaped his lips, barely a whisper. "Kacchan," he mumbled, the familiar nickname devoid of its usual bravado.

A humorless chuckle rippled through you. The way he clung to that childish moniker was almost... quaint. "Kacchan, huh?" you mused, tilting your head further.  "Don't be shy~" you cooed, your voice dripping with a false sweetness. "Tell me your real name, Kacchan. Or should I call you something else entirely? Something more... fitting of your current state?"

Bakugo's chest hitched with a shallow breath, his body trembling ever so slightly.  Then, in a voice barely above a whisper, a single word escaped his lips. "Ka-Bakugo...Bakugo Katsuki," he stuttered, the name catching in his throat.

There was no fire in his voice, no defiance—just a raw vulnerability that sent a shiver down your spine, a thrill that was both terrifying and intoxicating.

The challenge had been met, not with defiance, but with a broken submission that was far more satisfying.  You had him, Bakugo, completely under your thrall.  His age, his quirk, goals, fears—all these details would come to you in time.

For now, you reveled in the power you wielded, a puppeteer with a broken marionette at your command. So lost in the realization of your newly discovered power, you didn't notice your slip of control over Bakugo.

The effect was instantaneous.  Bakugo, who had been looking around in a dazed trance suddenly crumpled to his knees.  His body trembled uncontrollably, eyes wide and vacant.  Then, with a jolt, his gaze snapped up to meet yours.

The world seemed to tilt on its axis for him.  You, bathed in the afternoon sun, looked like an innocent angel—head tilted, a sweet smile gracing your lips.

But it was your eyes that sent shivers down his spine.

They glowed a chilling electric yellow, the crimson irises pulsing with a strange energy. The multiple red rings within them seemed to expand and contract, hypnotic and terrifying.

Tears welled up in Bakugo's eyes, brimming over and tracing hot tracks down his cheeks.  He didn't even realize he was crying again, his entire focus consumed by your gaze.

A commotion erupted nearby.  A woman with short blonde hair, a mirror image of Bakugo's spiky mane, rushed over, her face etched with concern.  "Katsuki! What's wrong?" she cried, scooping him up in her arms.

Bakugo, still trembling, could only whimper, his voice failing him.  All he could see were your eyes, those glowing orbs that promised something dark and terrifying.

His mother, oblivious to the true cause of his distress (after all, no one had witnessed your display of power), assumed he was simply shaken from the fall. Barely giving you a glance, she hurried away, her son clinging to her neck.

As they disappeared into the crowd, a hiss escaped your lips, the sound laced with a newfound arrogance. "Weak," you spat, the word heavy with contempt.

As you looked away from the retreating figures, the world once again seemed to shift. The vibrant colors muted, the sounds dulled. The people around you, once just faces in a crowd, now appeared... diminished.

Like scattered pieces on a chessboard, they seemed submissive, easily controlled.

The animals scampering through the park, the birds flitting through the trees—they all felt smaller, less significant. In your mind's eye, they were reduced to mere dogs, cowering beneath your invisible leash.

A shiver ran down your spine, a thrilling mix of fear and exhilaration.

You were no longer just Y/N. You were something more, something... powerful. And the world, once a place of confusion and confinement, now stretched before you as a vast, unexplored territory.

A territory you were fated to conquer.

A/N: no cuz I told myself I wasn't gonna update 💀💀 but I just had to leave y'all on a cliffhanger 🤪 see y'all next update...also *le gasp* bby bakugo??

[sleepsart]

Sleeps 1k DTIYS !

The head of the King in the palm of your Hand ...

[ ID: A digital drawing of Martyn and Ren from Third Life during the Red Winter execution. Martyn is kneeling on one knee, and Ren is sitting on the ground with his head on Martyn's raised knee. Martyn is holding an axe loosely in one hand, which is resting under Ren's chin, and his other hand is gently holding the side of Ren's face. His head is bowed over Ren's, and his hair is covering his face. He's wearing a green tunic-like shirt, loose brown pants, a pair of brown boots, a dark bandana, and a red and white sash with the jagged pattern of the Dogwarts flag on it. Ren has a peaceful expression and he looks almost asleep. He has one hand laying on the ground and the other resting on Martyn's leg up by his own head. He's wearing a ruffled red shirt, a pair of black pants, and a pair of black boots. He has dog ears and a tail. He's sitting on his knees, but mostly leaning against Martyn. The background is a dark purple and all of the colors are muted. End ID ]

DTIYS guidelines below cut! and also the tag list and some bonus versions of the dtiys

Hello and welcome to the 1k celebration! You guys voted for treebark, so treebark it is! The general guidelines:

No time limit

Color pallette is whatever you want it to be

Try to keep a similar vibe, but the pose can be changed

Have fun, don't be mean

Tag me in your version!! Also use the "sleepsart 1k dtiys" tag

Tag list: @luna-spacedoodles @convexers @renchanters @cuuno @grey-nova @chimbamuerto @gardenergulfie @oakskull @im-troublesome @griancraft @bellemyers @solardashpraxus

+ the Bonus versions! Alt in text

[ladylooch]

I’m not Woody anon, but I already have a request to make 😂

How about a size kink with Miles? This man is super well built and huge 👀 the idea of being dominated by him seems so fun

Size Matters with Miles Wood

A/N: My Miles Wood babes.. this is for you. I’m so sad he is no longer on the Devils. I am actually very in love with this fic. Like my faces writing this was this: 😊 & 🥵 & 🥰

This man. And the way he throws punches… leaves many thoughts for imagination in a sexual situation. And I’m here to provide some of them. You can’t tell me that the way he chirps on the ice does not lead to dirty talk in the bedroom. I’m gonna stop talking now and just let you read my filth.

Also if Miles Wood said good girl to me that would be the end of my existence. Fuck.

Work Count: 1.8k

It’s another post-game on edge, awaiting for Miles to come out of the locker room. Tonight, I’m standing with his parents, Randy and Cheryl. Randy is joking around with Jim Hughes about Miles latest tumble with Brady Tkachuck. Everyone thought it was a great, heavy weight fight. I spent the entire time curled up in my seat, hands over my face, shoving my upper body into my thighs in terror. 

I hate when he fights.

But damn is he good at it.

He comes strolling out of the locker room unaffected, one hand holding a bottle of water and the other stuffed into his pants pocket. He greets his mom and dad first, then comes to wrap his arms around me. When I feel his large body against mine, I finally relax. I turn my forehead into his neck. He leans his head into mine in acknowledgment. He knows how awful I feel when he fights.

“You okay?” He whispers. I nod in return, stepping back so he can converse with his parents again. He keeps his big hand around my opposite hip, cuddling me into his side.

We previously agreed to go out for a late night happy hour after the game with his parents close to their hotel. I am antsy the whole time, needing to feel Miles’ hands on me the entire time. His parents are lost in a conversation between themselves for a moment. Miles turns to me, tilting his corners up into a muted smile. I lean forward, pressing our lips together. 

“I love you.” I murmur. “I’m thankful for another day of you getting off the ice healthy.”

“You worry too much.”

“You do this to me. You could not fight.”

“I could, but then who would I be? Not me.” I frown because it’s true. It’s been a part of his chaotic, electric game since he was a teenager. His dad tells stories about his fights from Boston College like he’s toned it down a bit since then, which is hard for me to believe. 

“Can’t have that.” I murmur, running my hands through his curls. I hold his neck in my hand for a moment. 

“So what do you two have planned for the rest of the night?” Cheryl asks.

“Sleep.” Miles chuckles, looking at his watch to see it’s already after 11pm.

“You’re getting soft in your old age.” Randy pokes at his son.

“No, I finally have something worth staying home for.” He kisses my hand, keeping it laced on his strong thigh for the remainder of the night.

When we get back to our apartment, it’s after midnight. Luckily the Devils don’t have practice tomorrow. Miles walks in behind me, tossing his keys the five feet to the kitchen counter and pushing me forward to our bedroom. 

“Babe.” I chuckle, bucking my butt back into his stiff lap.

“My parents took forever to say goodbye.” He groans, reaching down for the hem of my shirt and pulling it over my head. My hair cascades back down my back and shoulders, teasing my skin. He unclasps my bra, salivating as my breasts spring free into the air. His hands come up, rolling my nipple against his ruff palms, calloused from fighting. “Just wanted to feel you like this. They like you too much.”

“Yeah because they don’t know what I do to you when they’re not around.” I turn, nipping at his lips, gripping his tie to hold his mouth to mine.

I lap my tongue against him, then slide my fingers down the silk until I reach his belt. He gathers my hair in his strong hand, lips moist from his tongue. His toothless grins shines down at me as I use his cock as lipstick. His thumb comes to my lips, pressing my bottom jaw down so my mouth opens. My tongue comes out, licking along the ridge of his head. I use it as a guide, running it along the bottom of his cock until he fills my mouth. Miles watches, eyes volatile with waves of desire.

“Good girl.” He groans. My eyes close at the praise, inner walls collapsing around nothing.

I take him deeper, sucking my cheeks in around his large girth. He’s long and wide. I’m the luckiest girl in the world, but it always leaves a few moments of pause before we can really go. My mouth adjusts to him in a few more suckles. Miles, usually one to buck into my mouth, leaves the tempo completely to me. My hand settles at the base, giving him a tug up into my mouth. He moans, breathing increasing, hands clasping my hair tighter. I stroke him a few more times just like that, reveling in the sexy noises that fall from his mouth. He works on the buttons of his shirt along with this tie, letting them fall around us. I move off his dick, going down to suck one of his balls into my mouth, then the other.

“Up, baby.” He groans, pulling me off of him by the grip on my hair. A string of saliva follows me back. Miles bites his lip, eyebrows pulling low over his eyes. His fingers work on the closures of my tight jeans, helping me shimmy them down. I step out and he grips my waist, hoisting me up into his chest. “I’m taking you right there.” He says to me before putting his lips on mine.

I moan into his mouth, gripping his brown curls as he slides into my slick entrance. He pauses there, then pushes my hips down and back so I move farther down him.

“Oh.” I whine.

“Fuck.” He breathes out, nail beds white as he grips my ass to prevent going in further. It is so tight. We can both feel how my body resists at first from both the size and the position we are in. He tries to pull me down to him again, this time sliding all the way in. “Baby.” He moans against my mouth. “You’re so wet. Feels so good around my cock.”

“You are absolutely ruining me right now.” I whimper as he begins to move. The first few thrusts of discomfort pass and then it’s all out pleasure. “Holy fuck, babe.” I squirm against his grasp, wanting to help. He walks us over to the living room wall, leaning my back against it so he can rail into me harder. It’s so zealous, just like Miles. I grip onto his wide shoulders for support. He leans forward, bruising my lips with his. His thumbs squeeze into my hip bones, leaving red rashes underneath.

“Great job beautiful. Let’s go deeper.” I nod enthusiastically, then press my hips down into his to meet him thrust for thrust. He holds my weight up like it’s nothing to him, large palms engulfing my ass.

“Fuck, babe. I love your cock.” Miles grits his teeth, thrusting harder into me. 

“Yeah? This the only place you wanna be?”

“God, yes. Please don’t stop. P-please.” My voice begins to quiver as I get closer to coming. 

All thoughts cease and complete feeling takes over. My muscles relax, my head slumps back into the wall and Miles takes me completely. I’m like a doll, limbs bumping up against his back and butt with each thrust. My breathing goes last as tingles begin to spread out from my core. An orgasm unleashes with brisk relief inside of me. “Yes.” I am finally able to whisper into his ear. Miles hears my voice, coated with sexual release and he grunts, coming loudly buried inside of me.

There is no doubt that watching him fight is the worst. But when he fights, he makes it up to me here, just the two of us. He takes that same big, aggressive body and channels it into incredible sex. But what comes after this might actually be as wonderful. 

He pulls away, lips kissing soft presses along my warm skin, allowing my feet to touch the floor again. He works his mouth over all the marks he’s made on me. My throat, my collar bone, my hips. He turns me, lips ghosting along my butt. He then works his mouth up my spine, letting his tongue trail out in spots, eating me up. 

“Do you need a bath or shower?”

“No, I just want you in our bed.”

“Okay. Go. I’ll be there in a second.” He taps my butt lovingly.

I head down the hall, stopping in our bathroom to clean myself up for a moment. I also take out my contacts and scrub the make up off my face. Before I leave the bathroom, I grab the shirt Miles was wearing before he left for the game. It’s comfy and huge, enclosing me in the smell of his cologne and our laundry detergent. In our bedroom, Miles waits for me. He has the TV on, clicking through Netflix for The Great British Baking Show- our latest binge. 

I think of him pounding against Brady earlier tonight, then pounding me after, and what a contrast it is to the softness that is here now. It brings my lips up into a smile. I pad gradually over to the bed where Miles has already pulled the blankets back for me to slide in. He’s dressed himself in boxers again and has a pint of Mint Chip ice cream for us to share.

“Oh babe, they’re making tarts.” He exclaims excitedly. He tosses the remote back onto the nightstand, then settles back into the pillows with the ice cream. “Ready?” He opens his arm for me to snuggle into his chest. I curl into him, knees pressing into his hips as we sit up to eat. Miles scoops out a bite, turning the spoon for me to take. I open my mouth, licking the ice cream off the metal. He watches me, cheeks spreading wide at the way I tease him with my movements. “Fuck, I love you.” He leans forward, kissing my mouth with his plump lips.

“I love you more.”

“Nah.” He immediately disagrees, turning back to the show. I lean forward, taking his firm jaw between my teeth to nibble him. He looks back at me, biting my bottom lip in retaliation.

“Can I keep you forever?”

“Yeah, baby. Don’t look in the back of the closet.” He gives me another spoonful of ice cream, casually. “Something tells me you’ve already seen it though.” I purse my lips together guiltily as I chew. He knows I’m a snoop.

“Just the box. Big box tho.”

“Big ring.”

“Big man.” I wiggle my eyebrows at him. He chuckles.

“Lucky you.”

After tonight, yeah, I’d say so.