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juniperdugong · 18 days

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The games we play - Mingyu

WC: 2.2k || Genre: Fluff || CW: Drinking || husband!mingyu x wife!reader, implied that the reader is well-known in their field of work

A/N: I swear this was supposed to be a drabble or short fic...

It was getting late. The bulk of the guests had already excused themselves to their other nightly duties and that's exactly what you were thinking of doing right now. You wanted to get out of here and get something more substantial to eat than the small appetizers that were becoming more and more scarce.

You knew that this event would drag on late, the company hosting it was notorious for their "after parties" and late gatherings. Honestly, you probably would've gone home by now if it weren't for the man catching your eye from across the floor.

The dim light might've made it hard to see but you knew that silhouette anywhere. The big broad shoulders, the tall frame, even down to the suit that was perfectly tailored to him. Kim Mingyu, oh how wonderful it was to be able to call him your husband.

You were posted up near the bar, nursing a cocktail that tasted more like candy than alcohol. The number you had on was a dress handpicked by Mingyu weeks before your flight over here. He had praised you so much for just putting it on that you practically felt like royalty in it. There was very little that compared to the love he held for you, that's something you were never afraid to admit.

You fight back the urge to bite your lip as you begin to walk towards him but you're stopped in your tracks when you see a woman approach him first. She's beautiful and you can't even deny it. What was there to deny when she was the main event of the fashion show that happened hours prior.

Her gait was nothing if not seductive and she wore a beautiful gown that was only accentuated by the heavy jewels that adorned her body. You couldn't make out what their conversation entailed but you could tell she at least had an eye on Mingyu. The way she would casually touch his arm in a small fit of laughter; Surely whatever he said couldn't be that funny. You raised an eyebrow in amusement and fascination at their antics, striding towards them once again to make a show out of your relationship.

"Y/n, right?" Once again you are stopped, at least this time it's from something/someone tangible.

You turn and put on your practiced business-ready professional smile, the one that lured people in but kept them distant enough to fend off unwanted advances of any kind, business-related or otherwise. Greeting you was a rather handsome man, the type that would have people thank his parents for their generous donation to the world and its beauty. Oddly enough you'd become used to people like this while beside Mingyu.

The conversation went on with the usual, something about how great your work has been, how they've heard so much about you from their colleagues, and, of course, ending with the staple "We should get a drink sometime.". A routine you knew all too well in your line of work. As you bid farewell to the stranger of a man you turn your attention back towards Mingyu - Mingyu who, with a smug smile, waltzes your way and places himself where the other man once stood.

Now the real fun began.

"You come here often?" Ha, you just had to scoff, was this really the way he wanted to start this tonight?

"Come here? Like this event? I think this is the first time they've held this event actually." He knew that sly little smirk on your lips, so you wanted to play it smart tonight and tease him a little for his setup? Bring it on.

"Right, forgive me. I meant the bar-"

"The bar? Do I frequent this bar or bars in general? Either way, it seems you have the wrong idea about me, sir." You were playing hard to get and he was all for it. He would never admit it but he liked a bit of the chase and back and forth, more than that he knew that you loved it - And how could he deprive the love of his life of something they enjoy?

He had to divert and fast! Or else you would overpower him and it's much too early for that. "That man you were speaking with, you two seemed to get along quite well. Someone, you know?"

"Not at all. Just met in fact. But yeah, maybe there was some connection between us... plus he was easy on the eyes." Oh, now you were just doing him dirty. Hard to get is one thing but jealousy? You were going to be the death of him. But you're plan was working. It was a steady rollercoaster of riling him up just to bring him back down and into your arms.

"Hmm, I see... I don't think your husband would be too fond of you speaking that way." He taps at the ring on your finger, putting emphasis on his own ring, the one that mirrors yours. You can tell he's getting annoyed by the way his brows furrow and he's almost pouting, he stays composed but you're hedging your bets that he caves in less than 5 minutes this time.

"What about your wife? Was that her you were talking to over there? Or were you just casually flirting with a beautiful woman for fun behind her back?" Now it was your turn to act annoyed, all was fair when it came to this little game.

"Oh, my wife?" He plays with the band on his ring finger, making sure that it's in your line of sight, "No, that wasn't her. She's much more beautiful and much less willing to give in to me, I love that about her." A small blush falls on your face at his words but you remain calm, it's all about waiting him out. He thinks he's got you though, celebrating quietly in his head as he sees you get red. She'll be dropping the act any moment now...

"You know what I like about my husband?" You pause and see that he's at the edge of his seat waiting to be praised. "He does whatever I tell him to do. Actually, he's waiting in the car for me right now." Huh? You had Mingyu thoroughly confused with the directions this time. The look on his face conveyed something much more than confusion though, he was putty in your hands the moment you finished your last sentence.

The game was done, he'd broken before you did. Mingyu however was still unaware of that fact. At the moment, he's just trying to decipher your words and you have to smile and scrunch your nose at the cute face he makes as he's deep in thought.

Did you want him to go to the car? But then he couldn't walk you out; He began to pout at the thought. Was he supposed to stay in character? But then why would you bring up the car? Aghhh, you had his brain fried.

With a swish of your dress, you turn so your back's against the counter, holding your drink in your hand you take a small sip. "Mingyu baby, go wait in the car for me? I want to finish my drink real quick.", you drop your character and fish the car keys from your clutch, dropping them on the counter between you two.

"W-Why'd you make your husband wait in the car for you? Got somewhere to be this late?" You turned to face him quizzically. Is he still in this? By the look on his face and the way he picks up the keys without question, he knows he's cracked but he's still fishing for answers. With a smile you turn once again to lean your upper body over the counter, a pose that you knew would make him flustered. If he was trying to work for it, then how could you not oblige?

"Well..." You start with a small huff. "You see, I know my husband very well. Well enough that I know that he's still hungry after scarfing down a ton of appetizers tonight." You poke at his belly only to feel his abs, immediately you tear your hand away in fear of what you might do if you kept it there too long. (You had the strength of the gods for being able to pull away, honestly.) "I told him that if waited patiently outside while I finished my drink that I'd get him a hamburger, maybe a few if he was really nice to me tonight."

Oh ho ho ho, you had his interest peaked! People often compared him to a puppy but that side of him really shined through at times like this. He's smart enough to be able to get what he wants regardless of who he's talking to but he'd never even think of being so mischievous with you. He actually really enjoyed you ordering him around sometimes, as strange as that was at the beginning of your relationship.

The whole facade he was trying to keep up crumbled into pieces as he crouched eye level with you and nuzzled his face into the crook of your neck. You patted at the back of his head as he ravaged your neck with hard pecking kisses, his own brand of thankfulness towards you. Grabbing your shoulder he made you look at him straight on, a determined look on his face.

"Your husband sounds like a very nice and well-mannered man. I'm sure that he'll appreciate anything you'd get him." He got back into character immediately, rushing the last of his words, and lasting a mere few seconds before melting into your touch as you cupped his face with your open hand. He pressed a small kiss to your palm before quickly sandwiching your head between his hands and covering his lips with yours. You giggle into the sudden kiss, he was always so hasty when it came down to it.

With that, he twirled the keys on his fingers and walked out of the event, completely satisfied and content.

It took a few minutes to finish up your drink. In the meantime you scoped out the rest of the scene, it was practically deserted at this point. It's times like this where you're both glad and annoyed that you have Mingyu. On one hand, he's a total social butterfly and it's really helped you get out of your shell... On the other, he always stayed out late when it came to parties and events, he could drink people under the table with ease, and everyone ate up whatever time he was willing to give.

Walking out you spot your car. Of course, it was much closer to the entrance than where you left it. He was trying extra hard to earn brownie points tonight.

Getting in, you let the warmth envelope you. It felt so nice to be in a familiar space after socializing all night. Just as you were getting comfortable you felt a small poke on your thigh. Slowly you turn your head and you practically glow with a smile at the sight.

Mingyu's making puppy eyes, his infamous ones that make people swoon and sigh over him. That coupled with an anticipatory pout, how couldn't your heart melt over him? His hand is resting on the middle console, you pick it up in yours and interlace your fingers, giving a small kiss to the back of his hand.

He looks at you expectantly, "Baby?", his voice couldn't have been softer.

Sigh... "Yes, Mingyu. We're still getting food." You say in an exasperated tone. You laugh when you see him break out in a small happy dance, dumbly acknowledging your words through movement. "Are you actually gonna let me pay this time?" You posture the infamous question of the night.

He pretends to be deep in though, stroking an imaginary beard like a scholar. "Not this time..." He moves his mouth side to side like he's thinking of what to say next, "But I will let you hand them my card."

"You never let me pay for anything, Gyu. The least I could do is buy you some food... You did offer to be designated driver tonight-"

"Hey! I jumped at the opportunity! My life, you never drink. You can't begin to understand how excited I was to see you let loose... Even if it was only a few drinks." He snickers as he whispers the last bit and you gently smack his face in retaliation for his slight towards you.

"Yeah yeah whatever, just wake me up once we're at the drive-through." You begin to recline your seat before jumping back up, "And don't you dare think of ordering for me or handing the person your card just because you think I look cute when I sleep." You let out a small huff as you mock words that he's said a thousand times over, "I've heard enough of your excuses throughout the years..."

You go back to reclining your seat and pass out within minutes.

While stuck at a red light Mingyu looks over to your figure. He pulls your dress down since it's ridden up quite a bit. Grabbing his jacket from the back seat he places it over your legs. His eyes go hazy with love as he gazes at you. He stretches himself enough to reach your forehead and give you a small kiss. You really were going to be the death of him, he knew it from the start.

A/N: Hahahaha I'm totally not procrastinating writing the Scoups angst fic... hahaha totally not 😓😖😨 (I'm a big fat liar who can't handle putting ideas to paper)

Please Reblog and Comment if you enjoyed ! (They act as power-ups for me)

Taglist (OPEN): @bemybabiibish @bath1lda @porridgesblog

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erinlindsayy · 11 months

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professor || carol danvers

‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾ . ┊ ⁭You're Carol's designated note taker, and usually the one teaching her a few things. What happens when you give her the wrong set of notes?

➺ warnings: dirty talk, spanking, edging, violent use of straps, carol danvers tops (but I fully believe she's a switch now), umm... general unholiness, bratting, etc.

✧ a/n: surprise... I'm back... more content coming soon... I promise I've got a val/carol/r fic coming soon, but this popped into my head and I couldn't resist... JOCK COLLEGE CAROL, OK? JOCK RUGBY COLLEGE CAROL.

↬ like this work? let me know! comments help encourage writers to write more and let them know that you liked what they wrote :)

★ requests are open–I write for a number of fandoms! just ask :)

☆ comments + reblogs are greatly appreciated ☆

“Can any of you attempt to discern meaning from this week’s assigned reading? Why might I have selected this particular work for you all?” asks Professor Valkyrie, starting class for the day. Your hand immediately raises, and she nods in your direction.

“Well, was not Beckett’s entire point to find meaning in the absence of conventional meaning?”

Professor Valkyrie, nods.

‘Interesting thought,” she says. “Care to elaborate?”

“Well,” you begin. “Beckett created a landscape for us that is so alien and foreign, and unlike what we know. The play does not include any symbolic elements, and it does not really go anywhere. You might try to make meaning out of the carrot that Didi and Gogo share, or the leaves appearing on the tree, but they literally mean nothing. At the end of the play--we, as well as Vladimir and Estragon, are all still waiting for Godot. So, in a sense, there is no meaning, but perhaps there is meaning in the fact that there is no intended meaning.”

“Good,” replies Professor Valkyrie. “As always, a carefully articulated and thoroughly crafted response. Excellent work as usual.”

You smile politely, and fall back into your seat as Professor Valkyrie continues to lecture about Samuel Beckett and the wonderful nature and reality of Waiting for Godot.

Meanwhile, you’ve jotted at the top of your notes, in big bold letters ‘I hate this play!’

After all, the ability to just to understand and converse about a work of literature does not mean that one has to enjoy it.

After class, you’re stopped, as usual, by the one and only Carol Danvers. Resident jock, captain of the division one team, aspiring pilot, rumored sex god extrodinare, Carol Danvers. She’s quite the legend around campus, but not exactly for her work ethic as it pertains to academic pursuits, which are... lacking, to put it politely.

“Do you have my notes for me,” she asks, holding her hand out. “I need to at least act like I’m going to study tonight, right?”

You roll your eyes. “Carol, why do you ask for my notes if you never use them? You do realize that mere possession of the notes will not translate into you understanding the material, yes? You have to actually read them in order for the information to enter your head.”

Your reply is snarky, short and snappy, but you’re fed up with Carol at this point. She asks you for notes in all the classes you share together (which, granted, is not many,) but never seems to read them or take any of her classes very seriously. Carol narrows her eyes at the response.

“I’ll just sleep on them? Os--”

You cut her off, finishing her sentence.

“--mosis does not apply, Carol. You know that. You cannot absorb the material through the pores of your skin. Read the notes, and actually try for once, or stop bothering me. I could be taking notes for myself, rather than focusing on summarizing all of the lectures so that you can stuff them into your bag, never to see the light of day again. Don’t ask me for notes again unless you’re ready to be serious.”

With that, you hastily pull out a few papers from your bag, not bothering to double check if they were the correct ones or not. You shove the papers into Carol’s and turn away sharply, not bothering to look back. Granted, you were headed in the completely wrong direction, but you weren’t about to give Carol the satisfaction of seeing your face again.

Of course, Carol knows that you hardly need notes for your own purposes. Summarizing the lectures for her provides you with the information you need to keep your own mind sharp, with years of literary study and reading filling in the blanks to broader context for you. But still, you love to hassle her. Carol does feel guilty occasionally, knowing how much work you put into the notes you take for her. They’re always organized, and you write important little tidbits down in the margins. She always glances at them, but can never bring herself to actually study the notes.

Tonight is different. Carol is inspired, reenergized by your scathing talk. She sits down at her desk, and finally pulls out the notes you gave her. She reads the first line, and laughs to herself.

These definitely weren’t the notes she meant to give me, she thinks to herself.

_______________________________________________________________________

You’re startled out of your evening study session by a loud ding from your phone. Normally, you wouldn’t check your phone in the middle of studying, but you’re intrigued.

Your jaw drops slightly when you notice that the text is from Carol.

8:57 hey. I’ve got a question about the notes

You’re shocked. Carol actually... read the notes?

9:00 Shoot for it. How can I help?

9:01 Well. The notes weren’t really on Waiting for Godot

9:04 Oh. Did I give you a repeat copy of last weeks’?

9:05 Well, I wouldn’t exactly say that they’re standard academic notes

You roll your eyes at her comment, typing out a harsh response before deleting it and sending a far more cordial reply.

9:06 Oh?

9:07 Well, for starters, I don’t think that Waiting for Godot has anything to do with sex.

Attached to her text is a picture of your recent exploration of the things that turned you on, or as you aptly named it “An empirical study of the things that make me wet.”

You’d never meant for anyone to see it, ever. It was purely a list of the things that you desperately wanted to try, things you enjoyed watching and reading, various things that interested you.

You’d written the list mostly as a joke, as a way to get the ideas out of your head. You wondered how it even found your way into your backpack, and you’re ready to curl up into a ball and cry when Carol texts you again.

9:13 I could help you, you know

9:14 I have a few things that I could teach you

9:15 What do you say we make a deal?

You swallow thickly, intrigued.

9:17 What sort of deal?

9:19 You teach me literature.

9:21 I’ll fulfill your deepest fantasies. (And take you out on a date ;) )

You blink slowly, unable to process the words appearing on your screen. A date? Lessons in sex? It all seems to be far too much to handle, and you’re not sure if Carol is serious. The prospect is alluring, however, and you can’t help but admit that you’ve had the tiniest (largest) of crushes on Carol ever since you saw her in that signature leather jacket of hers, kicking her legs up against the desk in front of her, even if your feelings were against your better judgment. You knew she was aware of this fact, and the way you were always angry around him for some odd reason.

9:24 If this is a joke, it isn’t funny, Carol.

9:30 I’ll pick you up at 7 tomorrow. Be ready. We’re getting pasta.

__________________________________________________________________________

“So. You want to be a pilot, but now you’re here playing rugby and studying literature?”

Carol shrugs.

“My best friend Maria and I were supposed to enlist together, but some shit happened and he needed me to stick around. I’ve always been good at rugby even though my dad hated that I played sports, and so I stuck around here. Got a full scholarship for rugby, and put the dream of flying aside. The academy will always be there. It’s not what I wanted, but it’s what Maria needed. I couldn’t just leave her when she needed me most.”

You smile softly at Carol, shocked by her sudden display of emotion. She’s clearly conflicted, and her eyes drift up to the sky, staring wistfully at the dimming horizon.

“I think that’s very brave of you, Carol. You’re a really good friend,” you say, reaching out to place a hand atop hers in a sudden burst of confidence. The evening had been oddly pleasant, and conversation flowed between the two of you. Granted, Carol was still somewhat of an egotistical jerk, but she was obviously emotionally conflicted, and she had sacrificed her biggest dream to help her closest friend when she needed it most.

Carol looks down at your hand, tensing up for a second before flipping her palm to meet yours and giving your hand a quick squeeze.

“I’m alright, ok? I don’t want you worrying about me.”

You nod. Carol smiles, and moves to stand up.

“What do you say we get out of here, and head back to my place? Maybe watch a movie?”

You smile, nodding at Carol. “I’d like that a lot,” you whisper. “I’d like that.”

Carol holds her hand out to you, helping you up out of your chair. You move to pull your hand out of hers, assuming she meant to just assist you up, but she holds on firmly as the two of you walk back to her vintage red Mustang.

The drive back to her apartment is filled with throwbacks from the 90s, widows open and hair wild. You’re both singing the words of the songs obnoxiously, relishing in the sweet freedom of the open night.

When you finally reach her apartment, your eyes are bright and your hair is messy. You look over at Carol, messy hair strewn about. You begin to laugh uncontrollably, with Carol joining shortly after upon seeing your own windblown look.

When the laughter finally succeeds, you look over at Carol to find her gazing at you intently. You laugh apprehensively, but Carol’s gaze does not falter.

“Has anyone ever told you you’re beautiful,” she asks.

You nod your head slowly. “Not really, no.”

“But you had a boyfriend?”

You nod. “It wasn’t really the best of situations. I’ve since come to many realizations about myself since then.”

Carol smiles. “Well, then I guess I’ll just have to tell you as many times as I possibly can to make up for the lack of times you’ve been told that.”

“Carol, I don’t even know how to respond to that,” you sputter out.

“So don’t.”

Carol leans in over the middle of the car, hesitantly pressing her lips against yours in a tender kiss. You’re surprised at first, but you lean into the kiss, melting against her mouth. Your hands tangle in her already messy hair, and you smile against her lips. The kiss intensifies as your hands begin to roam down Carol’s back, fingers itching to explore. She pulls her hands off of you, smiling softly.

“Let’s head inside, Princess. We can have a lot more fun in my bedroom than we ever will out here.”

You nod your head, eagerly anticipating the next steps.

When you reach her apartment, he leads you past the kitchen, flipping on various light switches as she heads through the living room, finally reaching her bedroom. It’s surprisingly neat, with framed photos of her and a woman that you guessed was her friend Maria. There’s a small pin shaped like a sort of star resting atop her desk, with a framed photo of an adorable orange kitten. Her bed is neatly made, and the room is incredibly put together.

“You like it, huh?”

You jump, startled by Carol’s voice.

“Yeah. Um, it’s very nice,” you reply. “Super neat.”

Carol laughs.

“Yeah, for all my disorganization at school, I do like to keep my apartment pretty tidy.”

Carol walks over to her desk and picks up your list.

“I think this belongs to you, my darling. We don’t have to do anything with it, or even speak of it again should you so wish that to be the case.”

You bite your lip, considering your options.

“Were you really serious, Carol?”

Your heart is beating fast, and your palms are beginning to grow clammy.

She laughs.

“Of course I was serious, Princess. Why would I offer if I wasn’t?”

You look down, mumbling your answer out.

“I didn’t really think someone like you would ever be interested in someone like me, honestly.”

Carol laughs, walking over to you. She gently tilts your chin up, meeting your eyes.

“Hey. You’re smart, you’re beautiful, and you drive me up a wall when you’re yelling at me to fucking finally read your notes, as you so kindly put it in your own words. Of course I would be interested in a girl like you. You’re incredible.”

She kisses you softly, slipping hers hands underneath your sweater. Breaking away for a second, she whispers to stop her if anything is too much. Green for go, she says. Red for stop.

Her hands roam up your body, making their way up to your neck. She gently squeezes at the column of your throat, whispering in your ear.

“I noticed you had this on your list, Princess. I did read your notes this time, and I did study up. I know all the things that could make you tick. And yet, I still want to hear you tell me what you want. You want me to choke you? Squeeze your throat till you’re begging me to stop?”

“Yes, please,” you moan out.

“Then use your words, Princess. Mmm... and what else should we do today? What other things from your little list do you want to try? I know you don’t want to start off simple... You even said so yourself. Tell me with your words, Princess. Tell me what you want.”

You gasp, head tipping back as Carol’s hands resume their exploration of your body.

“Cat got your tongue, Princess? Normally you’re so vocal during class... Why change now?”

You moan again, unable to speak properly as Carol’s fingers find your nipples, gently pinching. He pinches harder when you are unable to answer her question.

Moving hers hand to cup your jaw, he harshly tilts your face to look at him.

“Answer me, Princess. I’m growing impatient and I don’t have all day. Normally you’re so quick to answer. What a shame.”

“Put me in my place, please,” you gasp out, voice breaking. “I want you to edge me and spank me and punish me and tell me what a naughty little girl I’ve been, touching myself to the thought of you. I want to eat you out while I’m forced to touch myself, unable to cum without your permission. I want you to choke me as you pound me into the mattress with your cock, reminding me of my place. I want to be your good little girl, moaning only your name as you show me who I belong to.”

Carol smirks.

“I’ll be honest—I always knew you had a thing for me. You weren’t exactly discreet. The secret is, I had a thing for you too. I wasn’t expecting you to write about me in your notes, though. And I definitely wasn’t expecting you to write something like that ever. Our little teacher’s pet, our good little girl, the smartest girl in class—and such filthy thoughts! Didn’t take me long to figure out who the mysterious blonde figure was. You wrote some pretty explicit stuff in there, Princess. You’re such a filthy little whore... So many dirty thoughts! Imagine if those notes had fallen into the wrong hands...”

Carol’s hands dip to the edge of your sweater, swiftly pulling it off of your body. She cocks an eyebrow at you upon seeing the lacy navy blue bodysuit underneath that you’d specifically selected for tonight.

“Did you wear this just for me?”

You nod.

“Good girl. I like the way you think. Now, take off those pants for me. While you’re at it, get rid of that lacey little thing. It’s pretty, but you’re prettier.”

You obey her quickly, shedding every stitch of clothing from your body. You’re trembling with excitement and anticipation, and you’re nervous as Carol’s eyes rake up and down your body.

“Stunning,” she says, never taking her eyes off of your body. “You’re absolutely perfect. I can’t wait to teach you how to be a good little slut for me... you’re such a good learner. Wonder if that translates in the bedroom?”

You groan, rolling your eyes. “Why don’t you shut up and find out already?”

Carol laughs condescendingly.

“You sure you want to mouth off like that, Princess?”

You nod. “You seem to be all talk right now, and no action.”

Carol growls. “We can change that. I don’t tolerate brats around here. Brats get punished. If you’re a good girl, you get rewarded. Which is it going to be tonight, Princess. I need an answer.”

You roll your eyes without even thinking. “Just fuck me already, Carol.”

Carol tangles her hand in your hair, pulling your head back. “I told you that brats get punished. It looks like you've selected the brat role tonight. Get on your fucking hands and knees. I’m not going to ask you a second time.”

You quickly obey, scrambling onto your hands and knees. You wiggle your ass slightly, but Carol firmly holds it in place.

“Stop. Now, since this is your first time, I’m going to take it easy on you. We are only going to do ten, but mark my words, if you pull this sort of bratting on me again, I can and will increase that number. Now, I want you to count.”

The first strike comes faster than you were expecting, but it does not hurt as much as you thought it would.

“One,” you gasp out.

Carol strikes again, harder this time.

“Two,” you gasp out again.

He continues, hitting a bit harder each time, and your ass is red by the finish.

“Good girl,” she whispers in the shell of your ear. “You took your first punishment so well for me—it is almost like you were made to do this...”

She ghosts her fingers lightly over your neck, drifting down to your collarbone before moving her hands to gently massage the soft tissue of your breasts.

With a gentle slap to your aching ass, she gives you a new set of instructions.

“Now. For our next lesson, you’re going to suck me off. The better you do, the less edges I’ll give you tonight. I hope you’ve been studying, Princess. Either that, or you just better wish that this comes naturally for you.”

Carol swiftly pulls her pants and boxers down and throws her shirt to the side, revealing her toned abs and muscled back. You can see her muscles ripple as she stretches her arms above her head to take her shirt off. Your jaw goes slightly slack at the sight of her perfect nude figure.

“Close your mouth, Princess. You’ll catch flies.”

You blush. “Sorry, Carol. You’re just so beautiful.”

Carol winks. “I can tell, Princess. Your eyes haven’t left my torso.”

You giggle, but quickly stop when Carol moves directly in front of you.

“Test time, Princess. Hope you’ve studied. But, if you haven’t, I’ll allow for retakes. Think of this one as a pretext, if you will. How much do I need to teach you when it comes to this particular subject?”

You moan at her words, mouth salivating. You’re desperate to touch her, to run your tongue over her strap. Carol leans down to press a quick kiss upon your lips, immediately guiding your face to her strap after. You’re unsure of what to do at first, the feeling foreign upon your tongue. Eventually, you begin to find your rhythm, head bobbing as you introduce a hand to match your rhythm. You continue your tiny kitten licks, timing them with the thrust of your fingers. Carol is silent for the most part, but every so often she breaks her stoic silence with a loud moan or gasp when you hit a particularly sensitive spot against her body. You grind against the pillow that Carol has placed between your legs, annoyed with the lack of friction you got, but thankful to have anything at all. Your tongue continues its way along Carol’s strap, body quivering with pleasure.

It isn’t long before she’s moaning continuously.

After all, you have always been a very quick learner.

Carol pulls away, and you whimper at the loss of contact. She messily kisses you, groaning at the taste of herself on your tongue.

“For your first time, that was surprisingly good.”

You beam in satisfaction.

“However, I’m still going to edge you at least five times.”

You whimper.

“But Carol—“

“No buts, pretty girl. It’s for your own pleasure, alright? It’s good to practice delayed gratification. Now, get over there on the back of the bed for me. Spread those legs as wide as you can. I want that dripping cunt of yours on display.”

You move off of your pillow, following her instructions. Carol walks over to you, hovering over you on the bed as she cages your body with her arms.

“I want to hear every moan you make,” she growls. “Don’t hold back on me, Princess.”

You nod.

“Yes, Carol.”

Carol smiles and strokes a single finger through your dripping folds. You shudder. The feeling of her soft fingertips against your throbbing core is heavenly, and you’re unable to hide from the breathless moan that escapes your mouth.

Carol continues to slide her fingers through the folds of your cunt, relishing in the puffy texture as she explores. Her fingers trace small circles here and there, dipping into your soaking hole when she feels like doing so, pinching your clit, edging you into oblivion.

You ask her to cum numerous times, but she always pulls away. Finally, she pulls away for the last time.

“You can cum this time, Princess. But I want to cum on my cock for me like a good little slut, alright? I want you to scream my name for me. Let the whole world know you’re mine now.”

You nod, moaning at her filthy words. She carefully lines up with you and thrusts in quickly, giving you a chance to adjust to the size and foreign feeling of the cock inside of you.

When you nod at her, she begins to thrust her hips at an ungodly pace, hitting that perfect spot inside of you that makes your eyes roll into the back of your head. She moves one hand to your clit, rubbing tight little circles over the throbbing organ, and her other hand moves to your throat, lightly pressing down. She’s pushing you into the mattress, firmly grinning the column of your neck as her hips thrust faster and faster.

“You like it when I choke you? When your brain starts to go a little bit foggy and you can’t tell if it’s from the sex or lack of air? You like it when I tell you what a good little slut you are, taking my cock like such a good little Princess, showing how well you learn and how well you take instruction?”

“Yes,” you manage to gasp out in between moans. “Please, fuck me harder.”

Although it seemed humanly impossible, Carol managed to fuck you harder. The relentless snap of her hips grew faster, thrusts hitting further and further inside of you each time. The hand rubbing your clit runs faster, harder, and just before you’re about to rip over the edge, Carol whispers in your ear.

“Cum for me, Princess. Cum like the good little girl you are.”

You scream out in ecstasy as you tip over the edge, collapsing against the mattress. Carol pulls out, falling into bed next to you, wrapping her arms around you as she presses kisses to your neck and collarbone, drifting up to your forehead.

“You did so well, Princess. You’re such a good learner. Looks like you’re just as good in here as you are in a classroom.”

You smile.

“I try my best. Honestly, that’s all I can ever do.”

Carol smiles.

“A good attitude to have. Now, let’s go get you cleaned up.”

A few snacks, some water, and one blissful shower later, you’re dressed in Carol’s old sweatpants and sweatshirt as you climb into bed beside him. She’d invited you to stay the night, and you hadn’t been able to resist. Carol flips the lights off, pressing a delicate, featherlight kiss to your forehead.

As you lay in bed however, you remember an important fact.

“I still have to teach you all of literature,” you mumble.

Carol laughs softly.

“And I have many things to teach you still, darling. But for now, sleep.”

You smile, closing your eyes as you feel Carol’s grip on you grow stronger.

Literature could wait until tomorrow.

#carol danvers smut #carol danvers #carol danvers x reader #captain marvel x reader #captain marvel smut #god i cannot believe i am back here #holy hell #help lmaooooo

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takami-takami · 9 months

Text

Like a Candle at Both Ends.

includes— hawks x reader. minors dni. smut.

warnings— sub!keigo. reader uses a strap. double penetration with a twist. multiple orgasms. overstimulation. dacryphilia. cum as lube. slight feminization (of keigo). slight degradation. some brattiness. face-sitting mentioned.

In which you blow the birthday boy's back out like a candle. Topping Keigo with a fleshlight underneath him, that way he gets so overwhelmed he cries. ♡

You're at least ninety percent sure Keigo won't remember a damn word he says, tomorrow.

It's a pity, truly, that his gorgeous babbles of incoherency that entertain you aplenty in bed will only live on in your memories; but you suppose you can't really blame him. It would be difficult for any man to remain focused in this situation— let alone one who gets as lost in the floaty depths of subspace as Hawks.

You've always known your boyfriend to have a penchant for indulgence. If the tabloids get one thing at least half-correct, it's that Keigo is quite the glutton for satisfying his baser urges.

Tabloids call him a foodie. They snap pictures of him at different restaurants every afternoon during his usual two o'clock lunch breaks, sinking his teeth into delicacies with a moan, only to wash it down with the most caffeinated coffee he can get his mitts on.

And those same tabloids write adorable little periodicals about how their media darling just loves a little something to eat.

But you know better.

The reality is, it's more that Keigo is simply a brat who likes to indulge. He likes to be pleased.

He likes to fill and be filled, to stuff and be stuffed; but you don't blame them for not reading between the lines, there. You suppose you do have the unfair advantage of seeing him make that same, satisfied face after you've milked his cock to empty itself past the point of shooting blanks.

If anyone on this earth is privy to a crucial little piece of information the rest of the world doesn't know, it's you. The paparazzi that flock like vultures outside local diners in the hopes of catching the number two may snap pics of him smiling to himself as he digs in, but they don't have the slightest idea what else Keigo likes to sink his teeth into.

Namely: your neck, if he's lucky; cock throbbing in your vice grip, on days you grant him permission to teethe at your skin until the splotches of color from his marks settle like satisfaction in his chest.

But mostly— and especially, on nights like tonight— the revered, dignified hero Keigo Takami just sinks his teeth into the pillow like a goddamn whore.

Right now, as Keigo lays on his front and bites back some rather pathetic sounds, the plush pillow beneath him is looking unbearably chewable to his eyes. Your delicate hand is reaching around his body like a serpent, snaking underneath his pelvis to grip his sensitive length so carefully in your palm; and the man below you is beginning to suspect he might need another outlet for his sexual frustrations, soon.

"I c-can do that myself," Keigo releases the pillow and sputters, though his body doesn't protest in the slightest. In fact, his hips arch away from the toy positioned below, in order to allow you rightful access to his cock.

"Yeah, obviously," you answer with a squint, sliding your fingers along his length. "But I want to do it for you, so I will. Are you complaining, Kei'?"

"Mm. No," he hums the right answer, shifting comfortably to rest his cheek against the pillow and settle his weight on his knees. "But I might start complaining if you don't hurry it up. I don't take this long when I put it in you," he whines, smushing his cheek further into the fluff to resist the temptation to look down. He doesn't flinch a bit when you thread your fingers through his hair in response, practically petting him.

Still, Keigo sighs in pleasure rather than dissatisfaction when he shuts his eyes. He can't deny that your soft skin feels incredible on his cock, crackling with electric charge; but the fleshlight trapped beneath his hips is enticingly lubed and ready for him, and that simple fact is causing him to grow impatient. The way you're rubbing his tip against its entrance doesn't help in the slightest. It feels more agonizing than pleasurable, at this point.

"Stop playing with it and put it inside already," he groans.

"Aww," you coo. "Are you feeling pent up today, Keigo?"

It's meant to be a tease, but the response you get is heartbreakingly genuine.

"A little bit, yeah," Keigo answers truthfully, cocking his head to the side for a second. His neck pops with the motion, achingly, and he cracks his neck the other way to make it look intentional. Still on his belly, he crosses his elbows and tucks his chin atop his arms.

Keigo looks genuinely fatigued when he blinks. Black lashes rest on his cheekbones a little longer than usual today, and you're aware that the only thing hiding his prominent eye bags is a few layers of expensive, caked-on concealer.

You swallow a pang of resentment at the sight.

Next year, you'll be sure to make a few phone calls with some choice words and demands you refuse to budge on.

Somehow, the urge to spit an uncharacteristically shrill "let me speak to your manager" over the phone to some HPSC bigshot isn't quite as strong as the urge to spoil Keigo tonight, instead; to make your baby forget the press interviews his handlers drag him to, around this time every year. The meetups, the galas— even those photoshoots you're silently a bit thankful for because he looks so irritatingly handsome in them.

You take out your irritation on his wings, gripping the sensitive primaries in one fist. To his delight, you begin to stroke the sensitive, silky bristles along the sides of his feathers, teasing them with your fingertips.

"Woah, woah, woah," Keigo smirks. The plumage of his wingspan preens with the attention, arching into your touch like a purring, spoiled housecat. "Easy there, doll. What's gotten into you today— oh, fuck me."

The moan dies down into a pleased rumble in his chest; and before he knows it, his hips arch just like his glorious wings, grinding his backside against the pretty, pink appendage strapped to your hips by a few medieval-looking buckles.

"Nothing," you lie. "Just wanted to shut you up, but it's not working all that well."

"Liar," he snides. "You know that makes me loud, baby."

"Wasn't exactly trying to hide that, but nice try."

Your palm finally guides his tip into the toy, slipping it deep inside while he sighs in momentary relief.

But the relief is just that. Momentary.

Keigo's hardly bottomed out for a dozen seconds before he's whining and trying to press himself back against the tip of your strap, too.

"Oh my god," you laugh genuinely, dumbfounded by how quickly he begs for the next little indulgence on the list. You're too busy popping the lid of a plastic tube and drizzling your strap with lube to babysit him; so for now, you ignore his whorish little display for attention.

"You want it that bad, already," you ask, slicking the length and plopping the tip against his fluttering rim, giving him a few lovetaps.

"Yeah," Keigo smiles, deliriously. "Wanna feel you fucking against my prostate. Give it to me."

Cheeky. On another day, you'd deny him strap altogether for acting like he doesn't need to do anything to earn it.

"Tell me if anything feels weird," you say instead, kissing his shoulder once while you grip the tip in one hand, pressing it against his hole. "Does it feel okay?"

"Mm, yeah," he rolls his shoulders. "But can you, uh, let me just lay here a little, at first? You know, while you do your thing?"

Keigo shakes his hips in an attempt to look enticing with the shameless request. "I'll be really good. Promise."

"You're such a fucking pillow princess," you accuse as you slide inside his already prepped hole and begin to move; and just as quickly as you utter it, the pseudo-insult backfires in the form of a high pitched, utterly pleased moan below you.

"I-I can be your princess," Keigo immediately agrees, with some nods alongside each of your thrusts. When you sink into him, he sinks his teeth further into the pillow than his mind sinks to delirium— deeper than his pride sinks down to a new low.

"I'm yours, I'm your princess," Keigo repeats. "I'm your fucking princess," he moans, reaching one hand back to claw those delicately manicured fingernails into the meat of your thigh. Each nail is meticulously cut, shaved down like the hair on his lithe body and painted an iridescent gold to match his eyes under your bedroom light.

It's whiny when he pleads, "fuck me"— and it sounds even more pathetic when he squeals it.

With every infuriatingly slow thrust of your hips, Keigo makes a show of displaying his greed. He drags you into him, vice-grip in one hand locked in your flesh to pull it flush into his. His other hand busies itself clutching the drool-soaked pillow against his bare chest for stability.

You treat him delicately, fucking him too slow for him to even think of blowing his load? Oh, that makes him growl through his teeth.

"Just blow my back out, already!" He practically mopes, cock still throbbing in his toy. You can hear the purse of Keigo's lips, his adorable, jutted bottom lip that you're certain is wobbling at this point.

"C'mon," he grits. "Didn't anyone ever tell you that you should, like… Keep your promises? They're no good if you don't, y'know."

There are only a few days in the year Keigo is allowed to act out like this, and he'll be damned if he doesn't capitalize on them to the fullest.

The brat's gonna put you in an early grave at this rate, you think. You may not be able to punish him today, but you certainly can give him exactly what he wants.

And when you do give him what he wants, the reality becomes abundantly clear: he can't actually handle it.

When you speed up, he pants like a dog— or, more aptly given this pretty little position, dripping submission and precum while he gets his ass stuffed, face down— Keigo pants like a bitch.

With his tongue far too heavy for his mouth, he resorts to whimpering into the pillow— his poor little crutch. The fleshlight is still squished between his pelvis and the bed, so every thrust you grind against his ass milks his cock, too. It's impossible to keep his head clear and focused when he's stimulated on all fronts; but bless him, Keigo does try.

He tries so hard, pathetically, to focus through the sounds of his lubed cock rubbing against the wet silicone, through the full feeling stuffing his insides at the same time.

Yet even still, it's not enough for him. He snarls in frustration as he shoves his hand between his thighs to adjust the cocksleeve, angled so he can stuff more of his cock in it, enveloped down to his base and pressing near-painfully against his balls.

Fuckin' perfect, he sighs, finally able to direct his attention to his lovely partner digging out his guts from behind.

"Make me your b-b—" He starts and trails off, brows pinched with effort. "Make me yours," he corrects.

Oh? You tuck that little tidbit away.

You suppose it's been countless minutes since you began railing the poor, whimpering pup beneath you. That is, if you were to judge by the rasp in his voice that builds each time he cries his heart out.

Keigo is, despite it all, a very, very good boy. He gives you his visual cues when he feels that telltale tingling in the swollen, blushing tip of his cock; the one that lets him know how close he really is to bursting along the edge. He tenses his already defined muscles and looks back at you with the cutest puppydog eyes, just to make sure you know he's close.

"I'm gonna cum," he warns verbally, too.

But you don't stop.

If his muscles weren't tense enough before, they certainly are now.

"Baby?" Keigo near-panics, turning a bit to gaze up at you pleadingly. Your floral bed sheets twist into spirals under each of his fists, wrung in a manner not unlike his cock. "Baby, I-I said I was gonna cum."

"Yeah, I heard you the first time." You peer down your nose and eye the bead of sweat that slithers down his neck.

You watch the tremble of Keigo's hips as he does his best to keep his position poised like a prized showdog, dutifully still. He resists the urge to meet your strokes, instead offering every scrap of control to you as he lets the length of your strap carve out his insides. With every angled rock of your hips, the tip of your curved cock rubs against his poor prostate, stimulating it and making it a nightmare of an endurance test to hold himself back from spilling.

Habit is a powerful thing. Of course, Keigo's body recognizes the familiarity of this song and dance. His cock, ever well-trained, expects you to deny its release; to still your hips and cause his balls to ache, heavy with deprivation, just like you always do.

But tonight, you don't stop.

Your hands are still gripping his hips and your strap buckles are still clinking with your desperate movements. Your pelvis keeps pressing him deeper, manually pushing him in and out of the toy below; and he begrudgingly accepts your generosity, because it's possible that you just felt a little altruistic today.

After all, it is his—

"I'm gonna cum," Keigo whimpers. "Fuck, baby, I'm gonna cum!"

And with his nails tearing at the sheets, Keigo's world goes white; almost as white as the sticky mess he makes of his poor little toy, tip flooding it with rope after rope from his throbbing cock.

It rings in his ears when he climaxes, overloading his poor brain with endorphins and making him scream into the pillow he chomps down on.

Still, your delicate hands guide his hips back and forth, ignoring his babbling to watch him fuck his own cum into the toy.

If it pleases you to watch Keigo continue the motion long after your hands have retreated, you keep it to yourself.

"Ah," he nearly shrieks, high pitched and pretty. "Too much! Ah, fuck, baby, please—"

"Yeah? How does it feel, sweetheart?"

"W-Wet," Keigo hiccups, hips stuttering just the same as his voice. He paws at the sheets when he continues, kneading them in his palms like a kitten. "So fucking wet."

"Mhm," you hum, sitting back on your haunches. You decide to make him use his words for your entertainment, to sate your indignance at his prior tantrums. "And why is that, babe?"

Your palms slide possessively down his hips and up the curvature of his back, meeting his arch. They trail toward his shoulder blades, fingers splayed as Keigo tries to chase them; and to your amusement, he hardly looks to be in the proper state to process the fact that he's actually being mocked, let alone protest it.

To Keigo, all he knows is it simply feels good.

Keigo answers obediently, instead. It takes you by surprise, the way his unabashed filth spills without shame. Arousal pools between your thighs, but your body remains still— if only to watch the way he fucks himself on your cock, balls deep before he does the same using his own to the fleshlight below.

"Because it's stuffed full of my cum. It's s-so wet, full— fuck," he slurs, voice airy and utterly uncontrolled when he draws his hips back onto your thick, pink strap, down till his ass meets your pelvis; and he thrusts his cock back inside the toy, the subsequent shlick somehow louder than how he runs his mouth.

Back and forth, in and out, Keigo irreverently milks himself from both ends. The motion of it smears his own spent along the sides of his cock, acting as the most obscene lubricant. It's messy, unbearably loud in its slick sounds.

It must sound as satisfying to hump as it feels, Keigo thinks. His lip wobbles at the thought, hoping it impresses you, and he bites the pillow below him.

"Aww, it's full?" You don't bother to muffle your laughs as you kneel behind him, simply watching as the once-powerful hero below you does all the work and fucks the snark out of himself, for you. The sound of your condescending laughter breaks him, whittling down his vocabulary as his mind sinks to that familiar, fuzzy place.

The silicone is unbearably tight around his length, even though you were careful to pick one out that he could fit into. The thickness and length of Keigo's cock does tend to make shopping for toys a chore, you muse.

You're not complaining, though. You'll take a couple extra hours of scrolling through fleshlight reviews on forums for the well-endowed before making a purchase, if it means you can keep getting split open by his massive cock when he bends you over the bathroom vanity.

Or the kitchen counter. Or the leather couch in your living room. Or the nearest single-stall restroom sink after you accidentally call him something you shouldn't have in public.

But tonight, the nicknames you call him sound nothing like "sir."

They sound like "puppy", like "sweetheart", like "good boy."

The ribbed, silicone rings inside are designed to squeeze his cock with each stroke. It normally feels simply pleasurable; though, after an orgasm that explosive, his cock feels nearly raw in its sensitivity, nerves exposed like live wiring and sparking electricity all the same.

"It hurts," Keigo squeaks through his fat, wet tears; and you begin to pull out and fuss over him.

That is, until he wails and grips your thigh close in his claws.

"Wait, I want it to! Don't pull out, please don't, please don't pull out. I was so close," he slurs.

"Already?" Your face scrunches with disbelief.

"Uh huh," he nods furiously.

And just like that, your grandiose plans of discovering how much is too much for the glutton end up fizzling out.

"Figures you'd be into overstimulation," you roll your eyes, palm slapping once against his behind as you watch it go from fleshy peach to red. "Whore."

"Huh?" Keigo drools. He sounds like a lost puppy, brain too fuzzy to register a single word— well, other than whore, but that's only because that word made his cock feel kind of nice.

"Not gonna remember a damn word you said tomorrow, are you," you ask, watching him rock his hips in desperation, drowning in his own pleasure. "Too lost when you get fucked, huh, puppy?"

"Mm-mm," Keigo shakes his head furiously, blonde tufts sticking up like stray feathers. At the sight of it, you're overcome with a sudden urge to claw at his scalp.

"Mm! Love you," he adds for seemingly no reason when you yank his neck back by the roots, throat bobbing with his strained swallow.

Heart pounding like the percussion of a heavy metal drum with moans just as erotic, skin slick with sweat and cock wet with his own release; this is the man Keigo is reduced to as you take charge once more. You bully his prostate, thighs burning with effort and breath panting in his ear. Your left hand releases his scalp to grip his jaw and keep his back arched into your chest, while your right shamelessly milks his cock, fleshlight in hand.

It's too much. His moans are broken, climbing in pitch like a crescendo until the dam breaks and his mind shatters once more.

You know how loud Keigo can be. You're well aware, well prepared; yet, like every time you make him sob and scream when he cums, it travels between your legs like lightning, regardless.

After he collapses into the sheets, it takes Keigo ages to catch his breath. His body still shudders and twitches with the aftershocks of his orgasm, wings flapping twice before tucking against his shoulder blades, submissively.

There's drool on the pillowcase, you note; and it's been chewed to bits.

When you pull out, he gasps. You rub the tip against his twitching rim in an attempt to soothe him, and his gasp settles into a sigh.

"Good?" You're out of breath, yourself, when you dare to ask. "You look like you lost one of your nine lives, for a second."

"Eh, it was alright," he smirks. "Could you do it again? I wasn't paying attention."

"Shut the fuck up," you slam the pillow against his side. "You're such a brat."

"You love it," Keigo teases, rolling onto his back and stretching. He exposes his belly. Blissfully comfortable, fucked-out, and entirely satiated.

His eyes nevertheless catch between your legs as you unbuckle the strap and let it fall unceremoniously. He wets his lip and swallows, pupils dilating.

"C'mere," Keigo says, making grabby hands. Expectant, he shifts in eager anticipation, settling into an acceptably comfortable position as you place your thighs on either side of his head— he won't be moving for quite some time, after all.

"Oh," you add, pretending as if you suddenly remembered something. "And Keigo?"

"Mhm?" He hums, craning his neck toward your core, eager to lap himself another helping to fill.

"Happy birthday, baby."

#HAPPY BIRTHDAY KEIGO 🥳🥳🥳#🖋 writing #🌶 spice #hawks x reader #keigo takami x reader #bnha x reader #mha x reader #smut #x reader

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madame-fear · 1 year

Note

you can make a scenario about the reader with lucerys and jacaerys having sex on their dragons ( Separately ) ? :3

ofc anon, you got it, please enjoy this. 👀👀

Jacaerys is a bit more of a 'vanilla' boy if you could call it that way. Of course, with you, he’d have his own kinks, would like to try new things and positions, but they always happen on the quarters you both share.

Not that he doesn’t like the idea of having intimacy in other places, but he always prefers for both of you to have a comfortable, private space to allow your mind to roam free when it comes to sexual relationships.

Though, the idea of having intimacy with you while being on top of Vermax together randomly came to his mind when he was trying to think of new ideas to satisfy you. The idea seemed strange at the beginning, and would’ve been a bit reluctant until he finally put the idea to use, but overall it was a 'creative' way of fucking you since you were so mesmerised with his dragon and... Well, you thirsted over each other 24/7.

Most of the time when having sexual relationships on top of his dragon, you’d probably be riding Jace because that’s the most comfortable way of doing it. A bit ironic though, riding two dragons in one.

Luckily for both of you, even if Vermaxes’ texture felt a bit weird when having intimacy on top of him, you got used rather quick to it. And much to your delight, you would end up enjoying it more than you originally iimagined, and Vermaxes’ back would become the second most usual place for Jace to fuck you.

With Lucerys, it would be no surprise to often have intimacy on strange places; he’s got an imaginative dirty mind for you. And unfortunately for Arrax, his back is one of those strange places.

Occasionally, you’d sneak outside late at night while everyone's asleep under the premise of 'going out for a dragonride'. You, being completely oblivious to his plans for you, would accept in a heartbeat since you are a true adorer of dragonrides.

Once you get in there, and are already on top of Arrax, Luke will always be behind of you to 'take hold of the reins', but will find different ways to give you pleasure while being on top of his dragon. Most of the time he enjoys heavily breathing down your neck to give you shivers and place some kisses in there as he tells you how delighted he is of seeing you ride his dragon with him.

Then, he’ll very leisurely let go of one of the reins, and slip his hands towards your stomach to caress you there... And, you know, eventually his hand would slip lower and he’d end up fingering you and having you squirming and moaning under his fingers while both of you are on top of Arrax.

If you’re not being fingerfucked by Lucerys, you’re, much like with Jace, either riding him. It would be his number one favourite place to have intimacy with you, because he’ll always lurk you to Arraxes’ dragonpit if he’s horny. And you’ll always follow him like a lost puppy because you like meeting Arrax up close, and would always end with you loudly whimpering for his name.

♡ taglist : ♡

@damatheirin @jacesvelaryons @jjamieberry @anemicroyalcore @countsmoon @tickle-euphoria @beeebo234 @manuholland6 @capellaadara @kyuupidwrites @tchatso @phantasyy @tasty-nutella @mstxdes @valeriecash @cookielovesbook-akie @zzz000eee @bellarkeselection @feliuuuksks @visenyacore

#jacaerys velaryon x reader x lucerys velaryon #jacaerys targaryen x reader #jacaerys x reader x lucerys #jacaerys velaryon x reader #jacaerys velaryon smut #jacaerys velaryon x reader smut #jacaerys strong x reader #lucerys velaryon smut #lucerys velaryon x reader smut #lucerys velaryon x reader #lucerys strong x reader #hotd x reader #house of the dragon x reader smut #hotd x reader smut #hotd smut #house of the dragon x reader #house of the dragon smut

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snailpaste · 5 months

Note

Can i get some McSugarDaddy Crocodile headcannons but reader actually has feelings for croco? ive been thinking about this a little too much lately

Sugar Daddy!Crocodile x GN!Reader

CONTENT: Crocodile x GN! Reader, SFW, kind of mutual pining

AN: This isn't what i wanted but if I didn’t post it now I think it’d just go to the great fic graveyard in my drive (30 and counting) sorry for the wait ;-;

You’d caught crocodile’s eye at one of the many Gala’s he hosted (after all, charity was always a brilliant way for him to further his influence, to make connections and gain power), where he’d struck up conversation with you after asking to share a drink. It had gone well, and by the time the event had drawn to an end he’d given you his den den number and offered to pay for your taxi home.

Crocodile wasn’t one to chase after people, much more content to work on furthering himself or his many business enterprises. He simply didn’t need to – there were enough many men and women willing to fling themselves at him should he ever be in need of company – which is why he found it so strange that, not but two days after meeting you at a Gala, here he was, den-den pulled closer towards him on his desk than usual, eyes flickering to it every so often as he worked through the growing heap of paperwork.

rest under cut ->

If anyone were to ask why, not they would ever question him, he’d simply tell them he was waiting on an important business call, rather than hoping for a stranger, who’s laugh he unfortunately hadn’t been able to stop thinking about, to call.

Your arrangement started as “purely transactional,” in the words of Crocodile.

He didn’t expect sexual favours (at least, to begin with) but simply wanted your company at events, a presence beside him to help gnaw away at the tedious meetings and public appearances he endured in the name of business. You’d wake up with a voice message on your den den, telling you to be ready at 7, with details scarce aside from to check your mailbox, inside which was a new outfit fitting for whatever event he saw fit to bring you to. Over time as he learned more about you, they became more and more tailored to your tastes.

He kept things distant at the start. His touches were modest, an arm around your waist or shoulder, a hand guiding you at the small of your back, but nothing more. You found yourself begging to crave his touch, leaning into the warmth of his palm or wrapping your own around his arm.

His conversations, while interesting, never betrayed any of his true emotions, and he opted to leave you with cash rather than buying anything else for you specifically. Gradually, you began to hope might actually start to open up to you. What did he look like unguarded? How did he look when he was at peace

As the weeks passed, you found yourself growing accustomed to his presence, the initial intimidation and curiosity replaced by a quiet comfort. Crocodile listens to whatever you have to say intently, eyes never leaving your face, always asking the right questions and relishing in the way you blush when he leans closer to you, blowing cigar smoke out the window and brushing your hair out of your face.

While Crocodile isn’t out of touch with his feelings, he does prefer to ignore them. He immediately noticed how you changed towards him, leaning your head into his hand when he cupped your cheek and laughing a little bit more openly, and sneaking looks when you thought he didn’t notice – he’d be lying if he said it didn’t make his heart feel just a little warmer.

Your dates, as you unknowingly began to phrase them much to his amusement, became far more frequent, with him using anything as an excuse to be around you for longer. Crocodile, it seemed, had an uncanny ability to understand your desires. He took you to places and events you’d been wanting to go to without you asking, such as art galleries, cosy bookstores and grand libraries, or bookings at theatres or cinemas.

Crocodile encourages you to pursue any and all of your interests- there’s nothing he admires more than when you go off on a tangent about something you’re passionate about, or your dedication. With him, money isn’t an issue, he’ll happily pay whatever fees you might need to achieve.

Your relationship progressed from you being a pretty thing draped off of his arm, another way for him to flaunt his wealth and power, to something more personal. He surprised you with a visit to something you’d mentioned excitedly to him weeks ago, booked the wing of a restaurant you fancied for just the two of you, and invited you with him to the opening evening of an exclusive art exhibition of his favourite movement.

It was only when he caught himself thinking about you with a smile while smoking his evening cigar, that crocodile decided to address how he felt– whatever it was.

After a long night that left you nodding off and leaning against him, crocodile opted to take you back to his house. He’d carried you up to a guest room with his jacket wrapped around your shoulders, placing you down in the bed and mumbling a soft good-night into your hair. It was then that, in your half-asleep stupor, you accidentally confessed your feelings, clinging sleepily to his shoulders and mumbling for him to stay with you. He didn’t make a big deal of it, but he felt his heart skip a beat, and allowed you to cuddle against his chest until you fell asleep.

The following morning he told you plainly and simply, wanting to cut the tension that ran thick as you drank him out of the corner of your eye (and how could you not, with normally slicked back hair in loose waves, ringed hands sliding you a coffee across the island, his bare chest peeking through his dark brocade dressing gown) that he was interested in you, interested in a relationship more than this.

After this, he begins to open up- lets you run your hands through his hair from behind, and stay at his house as often as you’d like. His laughs become lighter and more genuine, and you find he has a dimple in his left cheek whenever he smiles just so.

He still buys you gifts and treats you, but now they’re far more intimate, and more tailored to your tastes than ever. He takes you with him on his business trips around the globe, letting you soak in the sun or encouraging you to explore the attractions while he attends to business.

He surprises you with gifts delivered directly to your house, a box of your favourite treats, each delicately wrapped in coloured paper, a potted plant he collected from your shared trip to alabasta, or something he saw you looking at or considering buying with his own note attached. Another time, he appeared at your doorstep with an assortment of flowers, (he’s very into “classic courting”) each flower was one he picked carefully to reflect a message to you.

His love languages are quality time and acts of service, but he craves physical touch and, as you find, becomes quite clingy when he’s tired. He loves sharing baths with you, holding you to his chest and relaxing in the warm bubbles, and on his one day of rest per week, lazing around in bed with you during the early morning hours.

The time he realised he was well and truly in love with you was when you were sitting in his lap, his arm looped around your waist and hand smoothing over your cheek, as you had reached up to trace your fingertips over his raised scar. He’d felt his heart jump into his throat at the feeling, realising he’d never allow anyone else to touch him there, and when you smiled at the light dusting to his cheeks, he realised he was well and truly fucked.

#snailpaste: moots #snailpaste: inbox #snailpaste: writing #op:crocodile #crocodile x gn reader #crocodile x gender neutral reader #one piece x gn reader #one piece x gender neutral reader #crocodile x reader #one piece x reader

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mimasroom2 · 1 month

Text

Accelerating fury

A Hunger Games Ellie au

In this specific au the hunger games didn’t end with Katniss,, just bc I wanted this to take place after ^•^. I mainly focus on the reader/you until the parade with all the costumes and chariots, but I PROMISEEEEE Ellie comes into play😭🙏 plz I just love to yap. This isn’t the plot of the original Hunger Games! It’s very similar but I did tweak it to be different so! Know that if you read!

Reader is from district 8 (textiles)

Ellie is a badass from district 2 (masonry)

((Btw the photo of the dress I included is the dress that reader wears,, I am OBSESSED w Lolita fashion !!))

C/w: uhhh it’s the hunger games sooo… death? No smut in this one (everyone throws tomatoes at me). SLOWWWWWW BURNNNNNN. If you don’t like yapping and plot don’t read😭 No use of Y/N. Cursing bc ms collins couldn’t😘 Strictly lesbian reader.

W/c: 5k

𓆟. ° .• .𓆝 .• ° . 𓆟 . ° .• .𓆞

It started like all the stories you had ever heard. The same girl from every year, Maria Miller, gave her speech about the Hunger Games. How everyone was oh so excited for this year. Apparently President Snow and the gamemakers had something special planned, as if they don’t say that same thing each time.

You scoffed, and crossed your arms as the same video began. After all this time you basically had the thing memorized. ‘War. Terrible war.’ you repeated to yourself. The few friends you had snickered to the side of you, and you playfully bumped them to get them to shut up. There were so many capitol officials here today. The peacekeepers were easily more than tripled. They wanted absolutely no distractions from Maria - they saw today as regal as the balls you hear about that go on in the capitol. You looked down at your clothes and smoothed them out. Thankfully since your district was textiles, you actually had something decent to wear, unlike the kids you see from district 12.

And you were well off enough to only have your name entered the minimum number of times, not more times for food like some of your friends with large families had to do. You only had this year, and then next year, and you were done. They cut you off after you turn 19, and then you never have to worry about the Hunger Games again. Well, unless you happened to get pregnant and have kids. But there’s no chance that was happening. You’d rather play dead at a necrophilia convention than have sex with a man.

“Well, as usual, ladies go first.” Maria snaps you out of your endless stream of thoughts and you look up to see her hand already rustling in the bowl of names. You reach over and hold the hands of your friends at you side. Your friends have a tradition of holding hands during the reaping. You’ve been doing it every year, and none of you have been picked. Knock on wood.

Maria digs around in the fishbowl full of names, you look over nervously at your friend Riley. She’s one of the people who had to enter more for extra food. You gulp and look ahead as Maria begins her painfully slow process of opening up the paper and reading the name.

It started how every living victor describes it. They say the more you hope it doesn’t happen, the more likely it will. The more you repeat ‘please don’t say my name’ in your head, the more likely your name will be called.

Maria opened her mouth and your blood went cold. You felt that horrid feeling one only feels when something disastrous happens. You had only felt it once before, when you late girlfriend was taken away by peacekeepers, about two years ago. At least you weren’t the one being dragged away to be hung. At least then you knew you were going to survive.

Everything around you went fuzzy as dissociation swept in. You couldn’t hear your friends gasping, or Maria calling out your name a second time. You barley felt the ones you loved letting go of your hands, until you realized you were carrying yourself down the rows and rows of people right to the stage.

Your thoughts about mundane things drew in as you stood there waiting for the male tribute’s name to be called. You thought about your cat, and your friends. The plans you had made for the rest of the week. The new job you were going to start soon, after you had the courage to quit your old one.

Before you know it, Maria is already back at the mic and talking to the crowd, “Everyone, please give a big hand to the tributes chosen to represent district 8 in this year’s Hunger Games!”

You didn’t even see the male tribute come up. You slowly look to your right and see a guy named Jesse. You’ve met him before, went to school with him and took a job together. You knew him, but you didn’t really know him. That would probably make it easier for you, if he was one of your friends then you’d be obligated to protect him. At least when he dies you can keep going. Fuck, now is not the time to think about that. You mentally scold yourself for being so grim.

Right now you were following an Avox down winding staircases and hallways to meet your stylist. You’ve heard rumors saying she’s supposed to be one of the best, always coming up with unique and astonishing outfits every year. I mean, that makes sense, she was styling outfits for the textiles district after all. The Avox leaves you in a little room to wait.

Suddenly the door opens and a girl steps inside. She looks only a few years older than you. “Hi. I’m Dina. I’ll be your and Jesse’s stylist.” She actually holds out her hand, and you shake it. She grabs a stool and sits down in front of you. “Now, I’m guessing they already told you about sponsors, right?”

You nod. Your mentor, Tommy, already told you all about them on the train to the capitol. You’re trying to use your organization skills from your job to your advantage. You’ve been thinking about what angle to take: wether you should paint yourself as a smart stow away or a sexy young lady. No matter what you thought of, it had already been done before. Even if you had never seen it televised yourself, your mom and dad had told you stories passed down of a beautiful singer from one of the first games who poisoned everyone, the man who used the force field to his advantage who then made the gamemakers mad, and the girl from a few years ago with the bow and arrow who did everything to save the one she loved.

“Great.” She claps her hands together. “Tell me a bit about yourself. I like to take direct inspiration from my tributes in order to give you guys the best shot.”

You can’t say anything. You just stare at her. The way you pictured it, only frilly old people worked in the capitol. This girl seemed so.. normal. No fancy jewelry, no over the top hairdo, no long spider lashes. She’s not even wearing work clothes.

“How did you end up here?” You ask. You’ve been wondering, but you never meant to actually say it out loud. “Oh shit, I’m sorry. I don’t know why I said that, you don’t have to answer.” You look away from her.

“Wow. No one’s uh.. ever asked me that before.” She laughs shyly and when you look up, she’s nervously fidgeting with the bracelet she has on. She clears her throat, “My older sister took care of me when my parents died. This used to be her job. We had family debt, so when she died, I took it on.” She sighs, “That’s about it.”

“I’m sorry about that.” You try comforting her. There’s really no use. There’s no cameras here. It’s just you and her. You really don’t have to please anyone, but you’ve decided in this moment not to be overtly cruel just to win. If you were going to do it, you were going to do it right.

She smiles softly, “Thank you.“

“Uhm, do you seriously not have a plan yet? Like, for what I’m gonna wear?” You try getting back on track, there’s really no time to waste. If you do this wrong, you only have a few days guaranteed left to live.

She smiles, “Nope. I do my best work in the middle of the night. There’s a reason why everyone oohs and ahhs at my designs.” She winks.

“And there’s a reason you haven’t been fired yet.” You try testing the waters.

“Damn, you sly dog. Gonna have to let Tommy know we got ourselves a wild one.” She laughs and rubs your head, like how dads do.

Huh. If all capitol citizens are like this, this is gonna be easy.

The next day, you and Jesse briskly follow the same Avox to get dressed in whatever Dina cooked up for you.

“She uh, she ask you to talk about yourself too?” Jesse prompts, keeping his hands in his pockets.

You nod, “Yup. Quite the character huh? Not really what I was expecting when I picture a capitol official.”

You glance over, look him up and down, and snort. He couldn’t have been bothered to change out of his pj’s. “Hey don’t look at me like that.” He throws his hands up. “We’re going straight to get into costumes. Needa save my energy for the arena.”

The mention of the arena makes your heart drop. You were so entranced by the yummy food and cool technology you forgot why you were in the capitol in the first place. Jesse goes silent after that, keeping his head low as he continues to follow the Avox. You don’t know why, but you just now realize he must be scared too. You also realize you never actually told Dina about yourself, so you assume she must have taken inspiration from some of the conversations you guys had.

You guys finally arrive and meet Dina in front of a dressing room with huge mirrors. “You’re up first, Jesse.” She smiles and pats him on the shoulder. They disappear into the changing room, leaving you to sit with your own thoughts on a little chaise. You hear Jesse laugh, and think about how nice it would be to get to know him under different circumstances.

“Heya, stranger.” A voice says from behind you, and you instinctively jump. You turn around and see Tommy, your mentor. “Woah there, games haven’t started yet.” He chuckles and you laugh a little. He reminds you of your dad. He won his games awhile back. He’s getting old, and his wife, Maria, is the one who called your name at the reaping. You didn’t realize the two were married until you were bad mouthing Maria, about how she just had to pick your name, when he showed you his ring. You apologized profusely, and he was very kind. He even said that’s not the first time that’s happened since he’s become a mentor. You sure lucked out. The people on your team almost seemed like family, even though you only met them a few days ago.

“What’re you doing here, Tommy? And where’s Maria?”

“Maria’s talkin’ to the gamemakers. She basically runs us here in the district 8 level. Even me.” He crosses his arms and chuckles. He really is like a dad. “Yeah, but I’m here cause I honestly don’t have nothin’ else to do. Only reason I’m still alive is cause I won my games, so now I gotta tell you how to win yours.”

“What about Jesse?” You tilt your head and ask.

He keeps eye contact with you, “I meant Jesse, too.”

“Oh.”

He pauses for a second. “Nah, don’t worry ‘bout it. Good girl, keepin’ your head in the game.” He pats you on the back, a little too hard.

Before you can cringe at the exchange that just happened, Jesse walks out in an all white aristocratic outfit. The shirt has so many ruffles you can’t even count. Must be a pain to iron. The pants are high waisted but are tailored to fit him perfectly. There’s a white bow tie with pearls on it, too. Everything is so simple, yet so fancy. You can tell Dina used some really expensive materials. Probably the most expensive she could find. Jesse even has a little white cane to go with the look.

He does a little spin for everyone watching. “Cool, right? Almost breaks gender norms a little.” He smiles and blushes softly at Dina, who looks proud.

“It’s called Ouji fashion. Used to be real popular couple hundred years ago.”

She faces towards you. “Alright. Now it’s your turn.” She grabs your hand and leads you into the dressing room, “Yours is called Lolita.” She explains.

“Is this all for a certain occasion or anything? Like they’d go to a fancy dinner and wear this?”

“Nope. For fun.” She grins widely and holds open the curtain for you.

Your jaw drops. “Wowww.” is all you can say.

The most gorgeous dress you’ve ever seen in your entire life rests on a mannequin in the middle of the room. You swear to god, you might actually cry. Working in textiles, you could only dream to even ship out a dress as pretty as this.

It’s all white, like Jesse’s, but what it lacks in color, it makes up in texture. There’s so many details to it. Your head spins trying to figure out how the hell Dina did all of this in one day. It’s got this beautiful big skirt that looks like it can swallow you whole. Long sleeves that flare at the end. And lace everywhere. There’s absolutely every accessory you could ever wish to own: earrings, necklace, little lace gloves, stockings and heels. Not to mention the headdress with pearls all over it to match Jesse’s tie.

You carefully reach out to touch the fabric, almost like you expected it to melt, like snow. “I’m wearing… that?”

Dina pretends to look around the room. “Who else could it be for?”

She talks as she helps get you undressed and into this thing. “I think it really says something about you guys. Like, ‘Hey. We’re from textiles alright, and we don’t play around. We’re here to knock you off your feet!’ Well, both figuratively and literally.” You try smiling a little, but every time someone mentions other tributes, you feel sick.

Once you’re finally in the outfit you walk out to show Tommy and Jesse. Dina opens the curtain back up, and everyone gasps as you slowly walk out. Maria’s there too, and she immediately runs up to hug you.

“Alright, guys.” Dina claps her hands together. “It’s go time.”

You and Jesse stand together, slowly looking at all the tributes.

“Fuck,” he mutters, “There’s so many of them.”

You nod. “They seemed so small on TV…” you trail off as you look around at each costume. They just keep getting better and better, but you think Dina was right in getting to know you and Jesse. You think your costumes fit you the best.

Everyone’s in a blob, so you can’t tell who’s from where. Dina shows up behind you and leads you two to the 8th carriage. Before you get on, she points around and tells you who’s from which district.

“Sorry, Dina. I’ve never been around horses before.” Jesse says as he tries to get up into the carriage.

“You’ll get used to it.” Dina smiles, and goes to take her place backstage.

“Ladies and Gentlemen welcome to the 81st annual Hunger Games! I’m your host, Caesar Flickerman, and today we are awaiting the tributes for the famous carriage parade…”

As he drones on, you can’t help but keep looking at the female tribute Dina said was from district 2. You scoff to yourself, she must be a career. The capitol should, in theory, make them illegal. But they love the drama they stir up. You take a deep breath, flattening out the dress near your hips and fluffing up the skirt, all while keeping your eyes locked on the girl a few carriages in front of you. This has to be perfect.

Jesse sees you staring her down. He nudges you a little, “Her name’s Ellie.” He starts, even though you didn’t ask. “Saw it on tv on the train here while you were sleeping. Supposedly she got blackmailed into volunteering. Her dad fucked with the wrong crowd and this girl threatened to kill him if she didn’t volunteer. At least, that’s what I heard anyway.”

You simply hum in response, closing your eyes and continuing to make your dress look as neat as possible.

Not satisfied with your response, Jesse states, “She’s pretty, right? Not my type though.”

You look up at her again. “Yeah, no. Not my type either.” You lie through your teeth. Damn, if you had seen this girl anywhere but here, you’d wanna be buried in her thighs. What, who said that! You clear your throat and try to focus. It’s gonna be easy. Just wave and flash that pretty smile and the sponsors will love you.

You see the first carriages start to go, and you hear Caesar announce, “And they’re off! Wow! Look at them go!”

You take one more deep breath before your carriage starts to be pulled out of the shadows and into the stadium.

“Would you look at that! District 1, never failing to impress.” Caesar goes on, he sure can make anything sound like the best thing ever. “And here comes district 2. I hear we have a bit of an outlier this year.”

All of a sudden, the girl, who appeared to just be wearing a normal suit, spreads her arms out and metallic wings emerge. She doesn’t even smile. She just smirks, and the crowd goes wild.

You look up on one of the big screens and finally get a clear view of this Ellie girl. She’s wearing just a plain black suit, and behind her are those giant metallic wings. You squint your eyes. The camera zooms in and you see the wings aren’t just made of hunks of metal, they’re made of guns. Your jaw drops, but then you remember you’re on live television, so you immediately straighten up.

“That’s crazy.” You mutter to yourself, but Jesse must have heard it because he nods in agreement.

“I love it, I absolutely love it!!” Caesar goes on, and the crowd never stops cheering for her, even as more carriages come through.

You take your eyes off the screen and look at her in front of you. She’s absolute eye candy and she doesn’t even look like she’s trying. Your stomach and chest twist out of jealousy. If these people don’t cheer for you and Jesse just as loud… there’s going to be a problem.

Finally, it’s your turn. There’s big lights shining on you as you emerge into the light of the stadium. You wave your hand like how you and Dina practiced in the mirror. You want to give almost a regal look, so you give a small, elegant wave. At the same time, Jesse raises his cane to the crowd, almost like he’s saying ‘Hello. How do you do? I’m very fancy, yes. I’d love it if you sponsored me.’

“How charming! Oh my, I love it! That is amazing!” You smile when you hear Caesar praising the two of you.

You reach the middle of the stadium, and bust out the move you know is sure to get a good reaction: you smile wide, but keep it classy, and start blowing graceful kisses into the crowd. When you’ve done that enough times, you pick up your skirt in one hand, put your other hand up to your heart, and bow graciously.

The crowd absolutely eats it up.

You come back up from the bow and look in front of you. You can’t even hear what Caesars saying, because you lock eyes with Ellie, who’s turned around to stare at you. You can’t exactly tell what her expression is, because she’s so far away, but you swear you can hear exactly what she’s thinking:

‘I’m going to kill you.’

That night, you lay awake in the plush bed of the room you’re staying in. Maria keeps saying ‘your room’ ‘your bed’, and it honestly annoys you a little bit. They’re not yours. You’d rather be back in district 8, in your own actual bed. You roll over, trying to get comfortable, as you need to sleep and conserve all your energy for the games. Oh shit. The games. You groan, reaching over to grab a pillow and hugging it to your chest. Why are the games still a thing? They should’ve ended years ago. You remember there was almost an uprising all over Panem. That girl Katniss maybe? Your brain is too foggy, you can’t even think straight.

You hug the pillow tighter. And what was with that girl Ellie? You made a mental note to watch her during training tomorrow, to see what she does.

You sigh, and reach up to rub your head. Now with thoughts of Ellie, there was no way you could sleep.

“How’d you sleep?” Jesse asks the next morning. After breakfast the two of you walk with Maria to the training center. She keeps telling you that if you’re on time, you’re late, so you guys always end up at every place at least 15 minutes early.

You shrug your shoulders, “Fine I guess.” You don’t want to tell him that you couldn’t really sleep, or all the nightmares you had, or what you had to do to stop thinking about Ellie.

“It’s weird. It’s way too quiet.”

You look up at him. “Where?”

He gestures around the ginormous building, “Here. In my room.”

You laugh a little, “Oh, so it’s your room now?”

“Cmon. You know that’s not what I meant.”

“Oh, look. We’re here.” You nudge Jesse a little, trying to lighten the mood. He just shoots you a disappointed look.

You, Jesse, and Maria sit side by side on a little bench outside the training center. There’s already a couple people there, but not too many. Now that you’re closer to the other tributes, you can really evaluate them in your head. You look at them one by one, saying things to yourself like ‘Oh I could definitely take him in a fight.’ And ‘I’d feel bad but that 12 year old would get absolutely hounded.’

As each new pair of tributes arrive, you do the same thing. Eventually, everyone is there but two.

The head trainer comes out and taps her foot. You look around. Of fucking course it’s her. The one person you actually wanted to see. You hear a laugh in the distance and look up to see Ellie, her mentor, and the district 2 male tribute casually walking to join the rest of you. Huh. You’d think she’d wanna be here early to scope out her prey or something.

You slowly look her up and down, you hope she locks eyes with you so that she knows you’re staring. You cross your arms and mutter to yourself, “I could take her.”

Jesse seems to have a talent for hearing you when you don’t mean to, because he asks, “In a fight or…?”

You gasp and punch him. You both laugh, and you feel grateful he’s not the vengeful type.

The head trainer explains all the rules for today, and even though you hate being here, it’s actually pretty cool to see how it all works.

You and Jesse decide to split up. You’ll focus on survival, and he’ll focus on combat. Then, when your time is halfway done, you’ll come together and tell each other what worked and what didn’t, and you’ll switch.

It’s a pretty nice plan, considering some of the tributes from the same district are already starting to get sour with each other and split up. You hope that doesn’t happen to you and Jesse, you’re actually starting to really like his companionship and company. You sigh and start to look around at what to do first. There’s the plant matching game, the fishing area, or maybe you should focus on shelter instead of food?

You start to head over to the makeshift tent area, when something off to the side catches your eye.

You see Ellie all by herself, squatting in the area where people learn to make fires, with a little switchblade. You cock your head to the side, and look around. No one’s paying any attention to her.

All the other careers from 1, 2, and 4 have already teamed up, like they always do early on. They’ve come up with a game where if you fall on the monkey bars, or can’t shoot a perfect arrow, you have to stay behind an extra 3 seconds by the cornucopia.

It’s absolutely fucking stupid, and they even go and win almost every year. You glance back over at Ellie. Her hair is in a messy half up half down style, and somehow she makes the weird training suit you guys are forced to wear work.

Your breath starts to quicken, but you say fuck it and go to talk to her anyway.

You shuffle your feet a little so that she knows someone’s coming. Now is really not the time to scare her. “Too bad we had to end up here, huh.”

She seems a bit shocked someone’s actually talking to her, with how quickly she looks up at you. “What?”

“Too bad we had to end up here.” You repeat yourself.

Ellie stares at you. “Least it’s not the quarter quell.” She says flatly.

You swallow, surprised that her voice is higher than you expected. You realize you’ve never actually heard her speak before, and you pictured her voice to match her face: rough and a little mean.

But it’s sweet.

You just laugh awkwardly and agree. You don’t want to seem like you’re towering over her, so you sit down on the ground next to her. She only continues playing with her switchblade. You try to sneak another glance at her, and you notice she has so many beautiful freckles up close.

“You do know how to make a fire, right?” You decide to break the silence and ask.

She sighs, “Of course I do.”

You gesture to the pile of sticks and wood in front of her. “Let’s see it then.”

Ellie just stares at them. You guess she’s probably trying to figure out what to do first. “Right. Of course. Fine.” She says, shaking her head. She grabs two sticks and tries to rub them together.

You gently place your hand on hers to stop her. “You need to make a nest first.”

She blinks at you. “Like for birds?”

You laugh a little, “No, silly. Here…” you grab the sticks out of her hands and place them down to build a nest for the fire. Ellie watches closely to what you’re doing. You hold out your hand for the knife Ellie’s holding, and she reluctantly gives it to you. You carve the end of one stick into a point, and then twist it into a log until the fire starts. “There.” You say, and look at Ellie.

She slowly looks at you. “Just never had to make one before.” She mutters.

You don’t mean to stare to be rude, but her green eyes are almost sucking you in. She seemed so cool and able during her first appearance in the parade. But now that it’s just all the tributes together by yourselves, she’s acting almost… apprehensive. I mean, it doesn’t really matter. The goal is to appease the sponsors and mentors, so they can send you gifts in the arena. There’s really no point in making friends if you’re going to kill them.

“I’m sorry about what happened by the way.” You suddenly spit out. You mentally slap yourself for being so awkward and having no rizz.

Ellie sure seems to have a habit of just staring at people until they elaborate.

You inhale sharply, “With your dad.”

She sighs and shakes her head. After a few moments of pause she replies, “Yknow just cause I’m from 2 doesn’t mean I’m a career.”

You nod, you didn’t want to say you could tell in case she got mad and tried to kill you early.. “Yeah… but, it’s not like you had to be here.”

She hugs her knees closer to her. “I mean. I kinda did, actually.”

You cock your head to the side, “What do you mean?”

“To make a really long story short,,, I was forced to volunteer or else my uh, dad Joel, would have died. This girl named Abby has had it out for me. She put her name in like, hah, fucking 200 times for so she’d get called. Told me if I didn’t volunteer to take her place she’d uh… yeah she’d kill Joel.”

You can’t really hide the way your mouth drops. “Shit, man. Wow. That’s- yeah, I’m sorry.” You were never really good at consoling people.

She mutters out a quick ‘thanks.’ You think it’s so quiet it could classify as a whisper.

Ellie goes on, “I mean.. everybody now thinks I’m this total badass cause of the parade. That wasn’t even me. That was my stylist,, hell, he told me what to do and when to do it to get the best reaction.”

“You did look really cool during the parade, to be fair.” And you’re not even lying. You were sure all of Panem was losing their shit as soon as Ellie raised her arms.

She looks at you and softly laughs. “Hah. Yeah, I’m just tired of relying on other people and taking away their credit, yknow?”

You nod. You never really imagined she could be so… thoughtful.

Even though you’re in a death game, you mentally slap yourself for not having proper manners like how you were taught, “Oh wait. I never introduced myself. I’m-“

Ellie quickly puts a finger up to your lips to tell you to shut up.

“I know who you are. I saw your reaping too. And who couldn’t forget that dress you wore.” She whistles, looking you up and down.

Now it’s your turn to stare at her. The conversation is going better than expected, and you hate to say it, but you couldn’t get rid of that butterfly feeling in your stomach. You hoped that if you didn’t win, it was Ellie. And if she did happen to die, it was quick.

You can’t help but look at her lips, although you look up at her again when you ask, “Why are you being so nice to me?”

She looks into your eyes and mutters, “Because you’re the first person who’s actually made an effort to talk to me.”

Part 2 :3

𓆟. ° .• .𓆝 .• ° . 𓆟 . ° .• .𓆞

#ellie williams #tlou2 #ellie the last of us #wlw #ellie x reader #ellie x fem reader #lesbian #ellie tlou #the hunger games #hunger games #the hunger games au #tlou au #jesse tlou #dina tlou

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that-student-that-has-homework · 3 months

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Yours are my Favorite!

Bokuto Koutaro x Reader

cw: MDNI. SPOILERS FOR THE MANGA'S END.

light body image stuff? mildly suggestive? kinda touchy? they're married though. I'm not sure if it's proofread or not.

You weren’t immune to the doomscroll, unfortunately.

Which was how you even came across some rather interesting information to begin with.

It was a random weekday and you were going through some social media. Which was how you discovered that it was apparently selfie day for the fans of the MSBY Black Jackals. You’d noticed the team name trending in your area and had clicked out of curiosity. Cute girls in jerseys, posing in really cute and flattering ways with equally flattering camera angles littered your feed.

You remembered this being a thing “idol” fans did. But MSBY were professional athletes…

Guess everyone with a pretty face was an idol now, and the Jackals had quite a few pretty faces to spare. Your husband’s being the prettiest, of course.

Aaaannnnd it wasn’t like this wasn’t good publicity. At the very least more people could take interest and boost profits! You lost yourself in your musings as you continued to mindlessly scroll through the images. Your darling had a lot of fans…

As he should!

Big ball of sunshine that he was.

You kept looking at the, quite frankly, very attractive ladies, many of whom were wearing that proud jersey number 12 and mentioning Bokuto in their posts. You even came across one, exceptionally attractive lady who had her plush…pectorals? Could you say pectorals? The pectoralis major was the muscle, but breasts were mostly fat sacks…well either way they were very plush and very nice looking.

You couldn’t help but look down at your own more clothed chest, looking much less…appealing…

much less plush…

much…

just much…

less.

After looking at a bunch of pretty ladies and that last one in particular, a rather nasty little monster reared its ugly head. Logically speaking you had nothing to worry about. Really. You were very happily married, and he valued you so, so much.

It’s not like he even used social media for more than just memes, looking up plays, and supporting his friends however he could. Yeah nothing to worry about at all!

No worries at all!

None!

Absolutely none!

But you had to admit you were a teensy tiny bit jealous because honestly: those were some really nice boobs!

Nothing wrong with acknowledging that right?

Right?

Your front door clicked and you were snapped back into reality. Turning you saw your beloved bursting in through the door, a massive grin on his face as he took you in, “hey hey hey! How was your day?”

That cheesy little rhyme got a little chuckle out of you, “uneventful,” you approached the entryway, “how was yours Kou?”

“So get this! Hinata, Hinata right?” He starts laughing as the memory floods his mind. “Receives one of Tsumtsum’s best serves perfectly and he got all mopey!” He burst out laughing again. “Then he got all fired up and kept aiming all his serves directly at Hinata so he wouldn’t get to spike!”

“I can’t imagine that keeping Sho-chan down though,” you hummed, leading your husband deeper into your home.

“‘Course it didn’t!” That got another amused bout of joy from your husband. “Not a single serve got Hinata down! He was jumping up for almost all of them too!”

You grinned imagining the setter’s face scrunched up in utter annoyance.

“Omi-san must have been amused.”

“Hehehe he was!”

He continued to tell you about all sorts of things that were going on with the team, things he was trying to learn, cool facts, that he saw something Keiji might like and wanted to send it over to him, everything. All the while you got the food out and onto the table and he got the plates out. Your usual routine.

It was later in the evening after you’d eaten and cleaned up and were sitting down to rest that you unlocked your phone and came across that picture of that fangirl again. Noticing the shift in your energy, Koutarou asked after you, “hey hey what’s got you down birdie?”

“Hmm?” You snapped your attention up to meet his everso observant golden hues. “Oh nothing, nothing,” you tried to wave it away, “just some of your fans are really pretty Kou.”

“Eh really?”

“Yeah,” you tried to sound nonchalant, “here take a look.”

You turned your phone screen so he could see the fan you’d been looking at. You watched his curious features open up into surprise, or perhaps he was impressed.

“Those are some nice boobs.”

“Right?!” You couldn’t help but agree. “I’m kinda jealous, I wish mine were that nice.”

“Eh? What’s wrong with yours?” His confusion returned as he turned to you.

“Nothing,” you denied, “it’s just that hers are so much nicer!”

You looked back up from your phone when you could hear your husband humming in thought. He had his thinking face on, his chin gripped in thought. Seems he figured things out though because he was dragging you into your shared bedroom barely a moment later, with an excited, “come with me!”

You followed him, not like you had a choice - he was holding your hand and moving quickly, phone still in hand. No sooner had you both entered the room, than he’d dropped your hand and went to look for something in the closet. You just watched him, curious as to what it is he could possibly be looking for. Though when he let out a triumphant, “found it!” You knew your curiosity was about to be satiated.

It was his black MSBY jersey, the one he wore for away games. He was tugging your current shirt off in his excitement, “Kou hey! What’s going on?” You asked mildly frazzled. “Here-just, oof.”

The two of your worked to get your shirt off leaving you in your usual undershirt. “Alrighty take your undershirt off too!” He cheered.

“Where are you going with this Kou?” You couldn’t help but ask as you complied, reaching for the hem of your undershirt.

He let out one of his darker, more mischievous chuckles, and you felt a mild twinge of concern, “you’ll see~”

You were now in nothing but your bra, your husband studied you thoughtfully for a moment, nodding to himself, “yeah that’ll work!”

“What’ll work?”

You didn’t really get an answer as he pulled his jersey over your head, turning it around and adjusting it so that you had it on correctly while you squirmed to get your arms out through the holes. Your hair felt like a total mess with how your husband had been undressing and redressing you. Not a problem though, because with that ever so charming, giddy smile of his, he was already working to fix up your hair, removing any accessories you had to keep it up or out of your face, and ruffling it with his warm, calloused fingers.

It felt nice, even if you were still confused by him.

He stopped soon enough taking a small step back to admire his work: golden eyes trailing across your face and body. He gave a satisfied hum and nod, impressed and happy with his work. Though when his enthusiasm was met with what you were sure was a befuddled expression on your face, it was his turn to be confused. It was only momentary as his scrubbed up expression lit up in a way where you could practically see an animated lightbulb lighting up next to his head.

Before you knew it he was dragging you to the full length mirror inset on your wardrobe. Standing directly behind you, he took a moment to pull the v-neck of his jersey down to reveal even more of your cleavage.

Oh.

You let out a little huff of amusement, “I still think hers looked nicer love,” you met his gaze in the reflection, “but thank-“

“Something’s still missing” he hummed cutting you off, “ah got it!”

Within an instant, your husband had slithered his arms under his jersey as his large hands gathered the flesh of either breast and pushed them up. He beamed at you through the mirror, clearly pleased with the results of his efforts. Indeed, you could kind of rival just how nice that one fan’s cleavage. He had done well in recreating the look, and making you feel better.

“Hehehe she might have nice boobs,” he gave yours a little squeeze for added measure, “but yours are my favorite!”

Your grin threatened to split your face in two, as the sound of your shared laughter filled the air of your apartment.

“I love you.”

“I love you too! A lot!”

Tumblr Masterlist | Ao3 Account

I welcome comments if anyone would be inclined to leave such.

#haikyuu x you #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu fanfiction #bokuto x reader #bokuto koutaro x reader #bokuto koutarou #msby bokuto #bokuto fanfic

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savaalienfish · 6 months

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Slankats

Slankats are a wide group of Sinedenian parasitic heliophytes, most often found in areas with particularly thick foam grass layers which they parasitize on. It is the main host for the most slankats, although there are some exceptions. This group of mixotrophs especially stands out from the rest, having a more animal-like appearance rather than the usual plant-like body plan. Some might confuse them with barnacles, due to their segmented tail and valved body with a feathery appendage. They are highly specialized for parasitic lifestyle, to the point that some of them cannot produce their own nutrients by photosynthesis at all.

General anatomy of slankats Their large bodies, despite their visual bulk, are actually very light and contain only a small number of tubular organs as well as a cavity for folding the stem into it. They attach to their hosts with the help of a scaly tail, at the end of which there is a spiked anchor with the bases of root organs on the sides. The roots of slankats are thin, long and highly branched, which allows them to absorb as many nutrients as possible from the foam grass. At the top of the body there is a gill plate, with the help of which slankats breathe. Next to it there is a hole, from which emerges a flexible stem with genital organs growing on it (whip-flowers and chains of fruits). The number of whips differs for different types of slankats (from 1 to 10). These whips carry female and male reproductive cells and unction similar to flowers on earth. When the whips are pollinated, after some time they wither away and in their place the fruits begin to grow, the number of which also varies. They can grow either in a chain or in a kind of bouquet. Slancat fruits carry from two to ten embryos, and the fruit also contains chambers of gas that allow the fruit to fly away on wind currents or float on the surface of the water during floods (depending on the species, breeding cycle and season). When the fruit gets carried away to a fitting place, embryos emerge by popping out of the husk of the froot and then borrow into their host by using their tails.

#worldbuilding #missionsinedey #speculative evolution #creature design #spec evo

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theygotlost · 11 months

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good afternoon here's my big rant on my pet peeves for subtitles in movies and tv

This is a post that I’ve thought about making probably for years now but never got around to. I might add more later if I realize I’ve forgotten any

When it comes down to it, the purpose of subtitles is this: to reflect exactly what the audience can hear, precisely when it can be heard. If you fail to do this, your subtitles are bad and you should feel bad. Although I don’t have concrete examples for most of these off the top of my head, I promise I have experienced them all firsthand at least once.

-> Watch for spelling and typos. Obviously.

-> Syncing issues.

This should go without saying, but the captions should be synced as closely as possible with dialogue and sound effects. Subtitles that are out of sync are worse to me than no subtitles at all. They’re unbearably distracting and I have to turn them off. I’m fortunate enough that I can keep watching without them, so imagine how frustrating this is for someone who needs to keep them on no matter what.

-> Jumping the gun.

This is basically an example of out-of-sync subtitles that are slightly too fast, but it gets its own category because it ruins the viewing experience in its own unique way. In particularly dramatic scenes, actors will often draw out their lines or pause between phrases. Captions sometimes fail to reflect this by displaying the entire sentence all at once, allowing the audience to read what someone is about to say before they actually say it, which deflates all the dramatic tension of the scene.

-> Phantom captions.

This one is less self explanatory, but it’s kind of similar to syncing. Sometimes there will be significant intervals of time between lines of dialogue, especially after a scene ends and a new one begins. The interval may include music, sound effects, or complete silence, but what I’m calling a “phantom” is a caption that stays on the screen after that last line of dialogue is delivered until the next line is spoken. I don’t remember what I was watching, but there was one that was glued to the screen for SEVERAL MINUTES over what was supposed to be an atmospheric break between scenes and it drove me nuts. In my experience this happens more often with older subtitling for DVDs and some old videos and less with modern streaming.

-> Straight up spoilers.

Sometimes, a character will speak whose true identity has not yet been revealed to the audience. If I’m not supposed to know the character’s name yet, don’t just… tell me right there in the captions whenever they say something. Descriptors like “disembodied voice”, “man”/”woman”, “mysterious figure”, etc. will suffice.

-> Lack of musical descriptors.

It usually helps to describe the genre or emotion of the music that’s playing rather than just writing [music] or 🎵. That being said, if there is a song playing that’s particularly well known in the mainstream, I think it’s useful to actually include the name of the song. This one I do have a concrete example for: in Arrested Development, Gob always blasts The Final Countdown during his acts. But the captions on my DVDs for the show always describe it as [stagy pop]. Like yeah I would say that song is some pretty stagy pop, but I think a lot of the humor comes from knowing that it’s specifically The Final Countdown by Europe because it’s such a perfectly corny selection that Gob would make.

Another musical failure is not transcribing pertinent lyrics. If the song is playing in the background, then that’s understandable and it can be kind of distracting if there’s dialog happening on top of it because the audience isn’t actually meant to be paying close attention to the song. But if the song is front and center, like for a musical number or montage, then the lyrics can be pretty important. Last year when I watched Arcane on Netflix with my family (a recent, high budget production from the biggest streaming platform ever), the show had the nerve to write [man rapping] over a musical sequence. Imagine if all subtitles ever just said [person speaking] for the entire movie.

-> Affectations.

If a character starts using a silly voice or accent, or if the sound of their voice changes in any way, describe that. If the audience can hear the difference, the subtitles should reflect that difference. And they should reflect it informatively and accurately; for example, don’t just say [mock accent], but specify [mock French accent].

-> Paraphrasing.

I don’t even know why this is an issue, but it’s alarming how many times the subtitles just… straight up don’t match what the characters are actually saying. It’s like the transcriber was forced to write all the captions from memory, so they kinda sorta say the same thing, but the wording is different and some sentences or phrases are missing. When I brought this up with my mom she theorized that the transcriber was working off the script for the movie because hey, that’s all the dialogue already written down, right? But it completely fails to account for revisions, improvisation, or actors delivering their lines even slightly different than how they were originally written.

And last but certainly not least, one of the biggest offenders in bad subtitling…

-> [Speaks foreign language]

If someone says something in another language, please, for the love of god, do not just write [speaks foreign language] and call it a day. Specifying the actual language is an improvement, but this descriptor only works if the audience members are truly not meant to know what’s being said (which is sometimes the case). If a character is only saying a single word or phrase in another language, transcribe it. As in, write down the actual words that they said. If you don’t speak that language, find someone who does. You are insane for transcribing a character saying “hola” or “abuela” in an otherwise English sentence as [speaks Spanish] (real examples I saw respectively in Rango and JANE THE VIRGIN. THERE’S SO MUCH SPANISH IN THAT SHOW).

If the audience is supposed to know what someone is saying in another language, English subtitles will usually be hardcoded. DO NOT, UNDER ANY CIRCUMSTANCES, LET THE CAPTION SAYING [SPEAKS FOREIGN LANGUAGE] COVER THESE UP. This is actively impeding understanding, not helping it. Jesus christ

* Please keep in mind that I’m not deaf or hard of hearing and I don’t have auditory processing disorder; I almost always watch movies and tv with subtitles whenever the option is available because it helps me absorb information better. If I don’t even strictly NEED subtitles and these are issues for me, I can only imagine how much more difficult it is for those who rely on them more heavily. I invite you to add your own perspective!!

#mine

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bumblebeehug · 30 days

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Hike in Heels

Summary: Natsu takes Lucy on a surprise trip to Hargeon, where they relive their first encounter. Notes: (At the end) Ao3

***

“Please, please, PLEASE, let me take a break!” Lucy almost sobbed as she took another step. A two-day trip to Hargeon was not the best way to break in her new heels, and she honestly never would have picked those shoes if she knew that the “quick walk” Natsu had been talking about, was in fact a hike and not a leisure stroll.

“Come on, you already know that it’s only another 30 minutes, you can manage!” Natsu slowed down briefly at first but came to a complete halt when he looked down at Lucy’s foot, that she was now massaging tenderly. They had a scary amount of red, inflamed looking blisters, and he almost winced at the sight.

“Does it look like I’ll manage?” Lucy sneered back. Natsu frowned at her foot at first, for making Lucy suffer, and then at the shoes that were the very cause of her suffering.

“Hop on my back,” he said, crouching down in front of her. Lucy would normally decline offers like that, but she had already used up too much of time on Horologium’s schedule, so borrowing him for a ride wouldn’t be possible, and though she could walk barefoot the last bit, her feet could really need the relief from all the pressure. That, and the path they were walking on had surprisingly sharp pebbles – something she learned from another unfortunate pick of footwear.

“Thanks,” she mumbled, annoyed that her pride had even allowed her to get her feet this bad in the first place. Had she asked him for his help earlier, she would probably have only half the number of blisters that she currently was cursed with. If only Wendy or Shelia was nearby to relieve her from it.

After climbing onto Natsu’s broad back, they were once again on their way. The immediate relief from pressure helped Lucy truly relax, urging her to use Natsu’s left shoulder like a pillow. He could act really heroic when he wanted to. That’s of course until he starts complaining about her weight, which he usually would do as soon as she mounted him. Though, today he’s unusually quiet, leaving the air around them only filled with the sounds of his rhythmic steps against the gravel and the birds chirping.

“Why are we even going to Hargeon in the first place?” Lucy asked for the tenth time this day, knowing she probably wouldn’t get a proper answer, but still hoping that she was wearing that secretive shield down.

“I told ya’ it’s a secret,” Natsu answered, still not faltering. At this point Lucy didn’t know whether she should be excited or worried for this trip – for all she knew, a horribly embarrassing job with little to no pay could be waiting in the town they were heading towards. That, or Lucy had once again underestimated Natsu’s kindness, and some nice surprise was waiting for her. You never knew when it came to Natsu.

Perhaps that unpredictable nature was part of why Lucy still felt like their friendship was as fresh as it only could be in the beginning – in its honeymoon phase, one might say. They never tired of each other, not really, despite what it might seem like when Lucy kicked him and Happy out of her apartment for the hundredth time in a week, or when she scolded them twice that amount. When they first got to know each other, the small fights were actually based on real discomfort – who wouldn’t be shocked when a guy you practically just met used your bath with his winged blue cat without even locking the door? Though as the time went on, her crazy reactions felt more like acting, rather than something based on true discomfort. She would put on her loud voice, yell out something witty and then a ‘get out!’ and then watch as Natsu and Happy would giggle while scrambling to her hallway, and she’d watch them do this with a smile on her face. It was their running gag, something that reminded them of where they started and where they are now.

Well, unpredictable friendship or not, Lucy wasn’t sure if this little hiking trip Natsu had brought her along to was worth it. Those blisters already looked unreasonably red and angry, and they sure felt like they were angry too, stinging even at small winds.

“You know I won’t be able to fight properly like this, right?” Lucy told Natsu, kicking her feet in front of him.

“Well, you won’t have to fight.”

“Hah! I got a clue!” Lucy burst out, celebrating her success at wearing him down. “So, no fighting… Does that mean I’m just here for company for a job? Or maybe the job just requires one of my spirits… or! Maybe we’re just here for a retreat!”

Natsu sighed and readjusted his hold of her. He had accidentally told her just a little too much – not enough for her to figure it out, but still enough for her to speculate. He was fine with her talking, but he was a little afraid she’d make him say too much again, maybe even make him spill everything, and then he’d let all his work to keep the secret go to waste.

“Not telling,” he just told her, trying to keep his ground. He made his mind up to only answer her if she talked about unrelated topics – otherwise he would definitely spill everything. Luckily for him they would reach the edge of the town in just 10 minutes as long as he kept a good walking speed.

“Don’t you think you owe me a proper clue? After all, you didn’t tell me that we were going to walk for hours! I would have changed shoes if I’d known, you know!” Lucy poked Natsu’s cheek repeatedly. Maybe she could annoy an answer out of him.

“I already gave ya’ one,” Natsu tried.

“Noooo, I decided that it was a clue, you didn’t give it to me out of free will!”

“So you want another clue?”

“Yes!”

“Well, my clue is that you won’t have to fight.” Lucy pouted.

“You already gave me that clue.”

“So you admit it was a clue?”

“Natsu!”

***

“I can’t believe you won’t tell me anything!” They had finally arrived, and Lucy was walking barefoot on the cobblestone paths that covered the coastal town. She had insisted on walking by herself when they started meeting people on the way, saying something about it being embarrassing to be carried when she was a mage with reputation. Natsu couldn’t understand how being carried would affect her rep, since she was in a team that destroyed everything in its path, but he complied.

“I just think you’re making it bigger than it is,” Natsu shrugged. His surprise wasn’t really that big, and this build up certainly wasn’t giving him any favours.

“I’m not making it bigger than you are. You’re the one that won’t tell me about this small surprise.” Natsu knew that Lucy was stubborn, but this was reaching new heights.

“It wouldn’t be a surprise if I told you!” he once again defended himself. “I just don’t want you to think it’s some amazing, cool thing and then be all disappointed.”

“I’d never be disappointed,” Lucy promised. She knew however that Natsu didn’t believe her – he had that peculiar look on his face that showed when he was doubting something. They continued this bickering for a few minutes, until Natsu finally came to a halt.

“We’re here.” Lucy looked around. The street was familiar – if she remembered correctly, this was the street where that wizard, Bora, had been scamming people. Which also, coincidentally, was the street where she and Natsu first met.

“Hey, I remember this,” Lucy said, not concealing the fondness in her voice. “This is where we met for the first time.” Lucy was smiling, and Natsu already felt like he had succeeded. For him, the hours of complaints were all worth it as long as she had this expression. But he knew Lucy would be annoyed if they had gone all this way just for a tiny peek into memory lane.

“Do you remember that there was this big crowd of girls just over there?” Natsu smiled.

“Yes, and I was in it.” A small grimace crossed Lucy’s face, until she started talking again. “I was completely charmed by Bora. Or, well, his ring at least.”

“The great salamander and his charms.”

“But hey, I did get to meet the real salamander! He was just naïve enough to think that Bora was a dragon in the middle of the town.”

“How was I supposed to know?” Natsu defended himself. Lucy raised her eyebrows.

“A dragon? A huge, fire breathing dragon, smack down in a town with crowded buildings and humans everywhere? It didn’t take a genius to figure out that things weren’t adding up.”

“Hey, me not being a genius led to us meeting. I wouldn’t change that, ya’ know.” Another soft expression graced Lucy’s face, and he had to hold back from giving her a big hug. “Anyways, I thought we could stay here for the weekend. I’ve booked a room, and just across the street there’s a place that’s got lots of cheap food!”

“You really thought this through, didn’t you?” Surprise didn’t begin to describe how Lucy currently felt. She didn’t think that Natsu would be so perceptive, though if she actually thought back she should have known. He had always been sentimental, if that wall of memorabilia had anything to show for. Hell, he even got himself a mannequin so he could display the maid outfit Lucy had dressed up in, way back for their first mission. Naturally he’d remember the date and location of their very first meeting.

“Since I prepared all this I’ll let you pay for the food,” Natsu said, snickering at her with a sinister grin. Right. There’s the catch.

Though since there wouldn’t be any crazy amounts of orders on raw fish, calculating the lack of exceeds in the company, maybe the bill wouldn’t be too severe. And with exceeds on the topic, Lucy sort of missed having the blue pal around. She could name a thousand annoying traits Happy possessed, but when it came down to it she wouldn’t trade him for anything in the world. He was her best friend, they bantered and had fights, sure, but the bond she shared with him was irreplaceable. Which is why she felt like there was a void present - they were missing a part of their team.

Lucy hadn’t gotten any explanations on why Happy wasn’t around today, but she knew that Natsu knew. Hadn’t he known, he would have complained the entire outing. Still, Lucy was curious about what kept Happy away today.

“Where did you say Happy was today by the way?” She had first asked him an hour into their impromptu hike, but had only gotten a vague mumble as an answer. This time she was ready to drill him – after all, she was paying for their food.

“Oh he had this… thing? With his parents and the rest of the exceeds. I don’t remember what exactly.” Lucy found his answer a tiny bit suspicious, but didn’t dig deeper. Surely there was a reason behind the vague answer – maybe Natsu had promised to keep a secret. Happy had recently gotten more serious about his feelings towards Carla, so maybe it was related to that.

“Right,” Lucy said, now feeling her stomach rumble. “So are we checking in at the Inn or eating first? I’m starving, but I think I’d like to freshen up a bit before we go eat.”

“Yeah sure, let’s make a stop at the room.” Natsu’s compliance was also a bit suspicious, Lucy thought. Though she didn’t mind it of course – maybe this was a part of the anniversary treatment.

She should have known something was up when Natsu had booked the room. The Inn was nice and clean, the staff was nice and she was delighted to hear that breakfast was included, but the first red flag was when there was only one room key. Lucy’s face had turned a light shade of pink at the thought of sharing a room – not because she wasn’t used to it at home, but because of the implied intimacy between her and Natsu. They were known to be “only friends” back in Magnolia, people barely batted an eye when they did almost-coupley-things (like walking home with arms linked, always sleeping at Lucy’s apartment, Natsu resting his arm on Lucy’s shoulders at the farmer’s market – all things that had been written about, and then been unbunked in Sorcerer’s Weekly), but in Hargeon their unique friendship wasn’t as widely known. So when the receptionist smoothly added that all their rooms were sound proofed, Lucy could only smile politely and nod.

The room itself was as stunning as the rest of the Inn. It was embellished with cute, golden, swirly details in every corner of every object, and the walls had a stunning tapestry with light blue flowers scattered across an eggshell-white base. There was a body length mirror with a dark wooden frame just to the left as you walked into the room, and to one of the walls there was a pretty wooden dresser. Everything looked handmade, and Lucy couldn’t help but awe at every detail.

See, the room was so pretty that Lucy hadn’t noticed that there was only one bed. When she did notice, it was only because she was admiring the bed frame – of which there was only one. Had she turned light pink before, she could guess that she was sporting a rosy red on her cheeks now. Truth was, she and Natsu had never shared a bed alone in another place than her apartment. Happy had always been a barrier between them, even when a similar occasion had occurred with there only being one spare room for the night. This time however, Lucy and Natsu hadn’t arrived with a third party. And this time, the room wasn’t the “only one available”. Natsu had been the one who booked it, and he clearly didn’t care about their reputation.

This entire thought process had taken maybe a second in the real world. See, Lucy didn’t really believe that Natsu didn’t care about “reputation” and silly things like that. She knew that Natsu didn’t see this sleepover as anything different than when Happy was around, and how the Inn-staff interpreted their relationship was simply not in Natsu’s equation. He had just wanted to make this a memorable trip, and sharing a room was just more economical, and really the only reasonable option when it came to the two of them. They were already sharing Lucy’s twin-size bed at home, so why bother booking two separate rooms when Natsu probably would end up in Lucy’s bed no matter what.

So with a deep breath, Lucy turned around and grabbed her bag where she kept her necessities.

“I’ll take a quick shower, is that fine with you? Or do you need the toilet?” Natsu could see a quite violent blush on Lucy’s cheeks as she tried to act unfazed. He covered up an amused smile with a yawn.

“No, you go ahead.” As Lucy closed the door he allowed himself to chuckle. She was really an open book.

***

“Good evening! Table for two under the name Dragneel?” A chipper waitress welcomed Natsu and Lucy into the restaurant. It was one of the perks of being a well known face in Fiore.

“Yes please,” Lucy said, minding her manners more than usual. She had thought that Natsu would leave the food aspect to Lucy, since he had joked around about her paying for him, but to her surprise he had led her here – to a nicer restaurant than they usually ate at. Well, they usually ate what they hunted in the woods, but even when they went through towns on missions they normally ended up in some cheap diner. This place was no five stars, but it was more than she had expected. She almost felt a bit self conscious in her simple dress.

The two of them were led to a table by a window that had the perfect view of the harbour.

“Hey that’s where we met for the second time!” Lucy exclaimed, pointing towards the horizon. “I thought you were such a loser for getting seasick,” she snickered, giving Natsu a provoking poke on his arm. He was nicely dressed up, wearing a navy dress shirt and black tailored pants.

“And I thought you were stupid for falling for Bora’s trick twice,” Natsu joked back with a smirk. Then he surprised Lucy for the third time in one day, fourth if you count his nice clothes. “We’ll take a bottle of the house’s red, assuming you want a meat dish?”

Lucy almost dropped her jaw, only giving a dumbfounded nod as an answer. As the waitress fetched their first order Natsu started to browse the menu.

“Hey what on earth was that? Who taught you wine-etiquette?”

Natsu shrugged his shoulders.

“This lamb looks good, doesn’t it?”

Lucy scoffed, but she was honestly impressed. It showed that Natsu had put a lot of thought into this day, even if he had played it off as a simple trip down memory lane. She opened her own menu and gave it a quick scan. He was right, the lamb did look really good, but at a closer look she could name multiple meals Natsu would prefer – he had mentioned the lamb as a recommendation to her.

“Yeah, I think I’ll take the lamb,” she slowly said. “What are you having?”

“The firecracker beef,” he said, pointing at the five chilli peppers on the side of the dish, symbolising how hot it was.

“Oh, fun!” Lucy praised.

As they waited for their wine they fell into a comfortable silence. Lucy had a million things to say, to commend him for. Well, minus one since she still felt her feet ache from the long walk. However, as soon as the waitress had taken their new orders, Natsu spoke up.

“This is a special town, dontcha think?” Lucy nodded. “I know Erza, Gray and Lisanna told you already, but before I met you I was really grumpy.”

“You don’t say?” Lucy giggled, thinking back on his curt behaviour before they formed a team.

“Hush,” he smiled, “I’m going somewhere with this.” Lucy made a zipping-motion with her hand over her mouth, and let him continue. “Anyways, I was a real bad-tempered kid, didn’t exactly like to hang around people other than Happy, and well, he’s a cat.”

Natsu seemed different today. Other than his odd sentimentality, Lucy thought he looked mature in his proper clothes, with a glass of red wine in front of him. Had she thought two times further she’d get flustered by how much this dinner seemed like a fully fletched date. Luckily Natsu continued speaking before she got there.

“There were all kinds of circumstances that made me behave that way, but in hindsight I kinda boil it down to searching for Igneel and losing Lisanna. Either way, I was having a tough time back then, especially when guild members didn’t take my search for Igneel seriously. Though, it was thanks to them we even met at all, since I followed one of the leads.” Natsu started looking around, losing the thread. “Well, I guess I wanna say I’m sorry for acting like a brat back then, I was really dismissive of you despite how friendly you were. Hell, you even got me and Happy lunch, we were seriously saved, I had to spend that lunch money on an extra train ticket.” He gave up a pained laugh from the memory of being stuck on that train ride. Lucy was amused by the picture he painted – even back then he didn’t manage motion well. It was sort of comfortable to know that some things would never change, no matter the adventures they went through.

“Either way, I would not change a single thing that day, the extra train ride made me meet you! Though meanwhile you were getting charmed by Bora.” He once again laughed at the memory – her eyes had practically been hearts. “And look what I brought, by the way!” From the backpack he had carried (against Lucy’s wishes) he pulled out the white cardboard paper that was signed by Bora, or Salamander as he had conned people to believe back in the day. Lucy yelped.

“I can’t believe you kept that! Eugh, it still gives me the creeps,” she shuddered and showed her arm where goosebumps had appeared. Natsu just laughed loudly – a heartfelt laugh that Lucy had heard countless times before but never got tired of hearing.

“What can I say, it’s a souvenir!” He was still laughing when he put it back into his backpack.

“Gross,” she muttered, but a smile was creeping across her face. She could never stay upset, even on pretend, when he laughed like that.

“Anyways, I just thought I’d tell you my side of the story of how we met. Though, you know the basic facts already. I just remember thinking that you were really weird.” Natsu was leaning his forearms on the table, suddenly feeling very close.

“I knew that much already,” Lucy teased. She was no longer fazed by his “weird”-accusations – they kind of cancelled out when you considered who was speaking.

“Yeah, well that wasn’t all I thought of you.” Lucy’s interest was piqued. Natsu’s eyes were dark in the dim light, and though his mouth was turned to a smile, he looked very serious. “Other than weird, I found you dumb, for paying for my food, loud, for how you spoke while paying for my food, endearing for how you spoke about Fairy Tail.”

Lucy felt her face get warmer. He had told her that she was weird, dumb and loud before – all while joking of course, but she had never heard him call her endearing.

“Then, when we met for the second time during the same day, I thought you were special. Then I got motion sick, so I mostly felt nauseous,” Lucy giggled before he continued, “but when you brought out Aquarius and helped me out, I knew you were special. I had never seen anyone converse with their magic the way you always have – mostly literally, but also figuratively. Happy told me the same night that he saw you find Aquarius key almost telepathically after you dropped it in the ocean. We both knew you were special. Are. You are special.”

Lucy felt like her face was on fire at this point. She had never heard Natsu be so straightforward before. It was strange, in a very good way.

“Oh Natsu, gosh, I don’t know what to say,” she breathed. It was rare to hear these sorts of words from anyone, aside from maybe Loke. “You flatter me.” She laughed, fanning herself to cool her head.

“I don’t do it nearly often enough,” Natsu argued boldly, only making Lucy blush more. “It’s just, I have so much to thank you for. My life has been pretty awesome if I may say so, but the truth is, it’s all thanks to you. I wouldn’t have had the amazing team I have today, I wouldn’t have made it out from any of the countless life threatening situations I’ve been in, if you weren’t there to save me. I owe everything to you.”

“That’s my line,” Lucy smiled, holding back tears of gratitude. “I would have roamed the streets still if we hadn’t met.”

Natsu smiled. “I doubt it. I would have picked you up along the way a hundred times if I could.”

Lucy snorted.

“That’s an awful pickup line!”

“Yeah, that was bad, wasn’t it?” He grimaced. “Though I can’t stop it with the sappy stuff until I finish what I started saying earlier.”

“About what you thought of me when we first met?” Lucy asked. She had sort of mastered the art of following Natsu’s train of thought, so she was spot on.

“Right, I think I mentioned weird, dumb, loud, endearing and special.” He regained his serious look, the one that made Lucy feel like she was the only one in the room, nay, the world, that mattered. “I also remember thinking that you were, and are, pretty.”

If Lucy could burst into flames of embarrassment, she would have. Except, she couldn’t say anything. If she said anything, she would wake up from this wonderful dream, and everything would go back to normal.

“I don’t tell you nearly enough,” Natsu said with a sheepish look. He was blushing for the first time since he got into puberty. It would take a lot for him to repeat these words. It was somehow comforting to hear Lucy’s heartbeat patter like a scared rabbit – like she didn’t hate hearing it from him, rather, the opposite.

It was however even more comforting to be interrupted by plates of food arriving. It was a natural ice breaker after the hot tension Natsu’s sentence brought. Lucy could utter a thanks to the waiter, and when her seal was broken, so was Natsu’s. Except, they didn’t address the elephant in the room. Natsu had called Lucy pretty, and Lucy liked hearing him say it. If any of them even mentioned it they feared a bomb would set off - a bomb they would have to clean up after in public. It was a silent agreement that they wouldn’t mention it before they were alone. Meanwhile, they had food to eat and a bottle of wine to finish.

***

The walk back to the Inn was quiet. Lucy walked slowly, partly to not strain her feet, but also because she needed the air to cool her head. Natsu naturally adapted his step to hers. Once they had walked in their own paces, unapologetically, but since quite some time back it had gone without saying that they were meant to be by each other’s side.

Natsu glanced over to Lucy. She had her eyes turned towards the skies, as she usually did when the sun had gone down. It was like she was acting on instinct, searching for the small, twinkling stars that were her good friends. Today however the lights in the town dulled the night sky, to both of their disappointment. Lucy’s skin had a special glow at night. It was like she was meant to be looked at by the moon, because Natsu could swear he saw a light sparkle, almost too faint to be there at all. Even the man in the moon showed Lucy his best side, Natsu realised, and felt his heartstrings tug. What a woman he had met.

If he looked into her eyes at night he could see the stars reflect in them. It looked like the night sky was swimming in dark chocolate, doing their best to stay afloat in her deep gaze. And not to mention how her light blush from the cold made her look ethereal, how her lips turned into a light purple when they no longer had the warm light of the sun shining on her, and how her golden hair almost turned white, following the colours of the sun and the moon on the night sky.

Calling her pretty was an understatement, yet it seemed like she didn’t really believe him when he had told her. At that realisation, Natsu got an overwhelming urge to tell her again. He wanted to tell her how gorgeous she was, inside and out, and he wanted to hold her tight and never let go. Carefully, he grazed his finger on her hand. Light enough to seem like an accident, put listening closely to the signs she gave. If she pulled away, so would he. Except, she didn’t. So he grazed it again, this time longer, making his intentions clear. Still, no movement from her, aside from the slight bobbing of their walk. On his third attempt he carefully braided their fingers together, relishing in the cool temperature of her soft, small hand in his.

He glanced over at her again, trying to read her emotions. She seemed happy, like he had just told her she would never have to pay rent again in her entire life. He caught himself with the same stupid smile, and decided to only look on the road ahead from now on. Whether he decided literally or metaphorically, he didn’t yet know.

***

Lucy was sweating. She cursed herself for it, because when Natsu had taken her hand, he had seemed so nonchalant, just acting like it was the most natural thing for the two of them in the world. And the fact that he hadn’t let go of her hand when they entered the Inn made Lucy beyond flustered. She had held his hand before, in fact, she had held it many times before. None that had felt so meaningful though. The light touches before he actually grabbed her hand, the way he had held it like it was the most fragile, yet important hand in the universe – the intention had felt romantic. And that’s when the day caught up to her.

Natsu’s nostalgia-trip had been like a weekend retreat for couples. It had felt like a long date, with marriage in mind. Though of course she didn’t think he’d propose – even he knew there were steps to take beforehand in their relationship, but today had indeed felt like a long list of steps to take before a proposal. Not that it felt staged in any way, but it was clear that he was advancing their relationship, whether he knew it or not.

Eventually Natsu had to release Lucy’s hand. He wasn’t successful in finding the key with one hand, so reinforcements were necessary.

As soon as the door closed behind them, Lucy said her first words in 30 minutes.

“I’ll just take a shower.”

And 10 minutes later, Natsu copied her.

When Natsu came out of the bathroom, they were both still in their bath towels. Lucy had managed to dry her hair halfway, but didn’t get farther before Natsu suddenly was standing in the archway between the bedroom and the hallway, his towel hanging dangerously low on his hips. She quickly turned off the hairdryer.

“So which sides did we settle on?” She kept the topic safe, or, at least as safe as it could be when she soon was to share bed at an inn, with no one present but her and her crush.

“Whatever you prefer,” Natsu answered. He would cling to her no matter which side they were lying on.

With all safe conversation topics exhausted, Lucy swiftly changed into her pyjamas. Natsu was lucky that she always carried her essentials – toothbrush, hairbrush, moisturiser, a couple of panties and a tank top, because otherwise she would either have to sleep in her outside clothes, or naked – both terrible options in Lucy’s opinion.

Natsu had known what the weekend had in store, but he hadn’t felt compelled to pack a pair of pyjamas anyways. A pair of boxers were enough in his opinion. As soon as he turned off the lights, he joined Lucy in bed. Once again he found himself looking at her in the dark. This time the light was so faint he could barely make out her contours, but he saw her there anyway. Her bangs had fallen to the side of her head, and he saw her entire forehead. It felt holy, in a way, because when he saw her wholly he felt like he could see everything about her. Her thoughts, her opinions, her memories. He knew that he couldn’t tell her this, because Lucy would think he was making fun of her big forehead. Little did she know that all his teasing, all his little jokes, were based in admiration. He had to keep talking to her to convince himself he was speaking with a human, and not an angel.

That’s when she opened her eyes and met Natsu’s gaze. At first Lucy’s heart skipped a beat – she hadn’t been prepared to be so intensely stared at. But then she allowed herself to be. She thought, just because she could see him watch her, it didn’t mean he saw her any differently to when she was unaware he was looking. And even if he understood her differently, did that telepathic thing where they spoke through glimpses and glances, he still saw the same woman he had always seen.

“What are you thinking about?” Lucy dared to ask, in a voice that barely counted as a whisper. He had been looking so intensely, like there was no tomorrow, yet he had an indescribable look on his face. Like he was troubled and content all at the same time. Stuck in admiration and puzzling.

“That you’re pretty,” Natsu said. And it was true. The way Lucy looked in the darkness, when Natsu barely could make out her shape, was captivating. He could easily lighten up the place with his fire, make every pore in her face visible as day, but barely seeing her was seeing her in a new light. He couldn’t get enough of her. It was like he was seeing her for her – not in the lights and shadows of a campfire in the woods, not under the light of her booklamp that she used every night. She wasn’t reflecting any light at all - yet somehow she was. If it was the faint light from one or two stars that peeked out behind the curtains, or if it was the faint glow of her own magic power, Natsu didn’t know. All he knew was that he couldn’t get enough of her. He had to feel her, taste her.

So he did.

He started with feeling. Grabbed her hand, this time with more determination. He grabbed it with both hands under the blanket, tracing her joints and feeling her smooth fingernails. It felt surreal to be touching this work of art he was watching. Then he traced up her arm, along her shoulder and neck, and soon enough he was tracing her face. Feeling the soft, thin skin across her eyelids, brushing up her eyelashes. Feeling her breath under her nose, the warmness of her lips. With every light brush his fingertips made, the more of her he smelled. He didn’t know if it was some sort of instinct, that he could smell her better the closer they were emotionally, all he knew was that he almost went dizzy from the sweetness, the realness she smelled. “Bunny” crossed his mind before he started combing through her hair.

“So pretty.” He had said it out loud before he registered the thought in his brain, but somehow it didn’t feel as smothering as it had in the restaurant. And that’s when he bent forward and kissed her. Softly, lightly on her lips. Her lips had fluttered slightly at his touch, but he noticed that she had closed her eyes on instinct. So he did it again, slightly firmer this time, pulling her body close along with the kissing motion. It felt like the ultimate sign of intimacy – like an embrace out of pure love, except amplified.

When they pulled apart for air, Natsu only had one thought on his mind.

“We can take the train back tomorrow if you want. No more hiking in heels.” And in the middle of a giggle, Lucy pulled them together again.

***

Notes: Over a year late to this nalu week prompt lmaoooo and it's 2am so I should really go to sleep. Hope you liked it! I'm just glad I didn't kill any characters or make them fight. I've written real angsty fics lately (and there's more to come, lol)

Anyways I hope you had as fun reading it as I had writing it! Xoxo

#bumblebeehug writes #fairy tail #lucy heartfilia #natsu dragneel #nalu #fairy tail nalu #nalu fic #fanfic #fanfiction #fairy tail fanfic #fairy tail fanfiction #nalu fanfiction #nalu fanfic #nalu fandom

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cinnamonest · 8 months

Note

Lena thank you for the spanking bit, has to be one of fav kinks ever because it just... fits every single yan regardless of who they are??? Kinda like a "universal" thing, just top notch. Do you think we could ever get headcanons for it?

Thank you for this anon, you're absolutely correct it is a top-tier kink

Also I've been wanting to write more about god-era Morax so thank you for the opportunity to do so, I rambled way more about him than the others here sorry lol

As for those who fit the kink best imo I’m going with Childe, Diluc, Ayato and Morax

//major spanking kink material (obviously) but gets kinda bad in severity/intensity, also mentions of hair-pulling, biting, throat fucking, anal, two cocks for Morax again (as always 👌)

--------

Childe is probably the best one here to end up at the mercy of here for once, for the sake of your poor ass at least.

Not that it isn't still awful and painful — he’s a sadist at heart and just adores making you squeal and cry. What at least makes it comparatively at least bearable is that he tends to use his hand — although that does make it more personable, more humiliating.

He tells you, though, exactly what he intends to do. You're being such a little brat today… come over here…

He doesn't even seem angry, but rather excited. He's all smiley and cooing in a way that feels so utterly humiliating and degrading.

Oh, but please do run. Please, please make it so much more fun for him, run away and try to hide. There's virtually nothing in the world that turns him on as much as either a game of chasing you or hunting you down wherever you're hiding. The fact that you're that scared of getting your ass beaten is kind of cute, actually. Are you that sensitive to pain, or is it more protecting your pride that gives you so much resistance? Not that he's complaining or anything.

He'll even give you a very wide opportunity to run, make sure you have plenty of avenues to do so. His heart rate begins to go up seeing the look of realization in your eyes when you spot an opening to run off, and he'll give you a minute or two of a head start. It doesn't take him long to find you nonetheless, hauling you up over his shoulders and carrying you back to your room with obvious excitement, like a predator dragging squealing, still-living prey back to its den for its inevitable fate.

That being said, doing that will make it worse for you — at that point you probably do deserve a belt at least, you know? Regardless of the instrument of choice though, he keeps you bent over his knee — he can feel your squirming more that way, and he can grind his hard-on into your stomach as you thrash around and squeal. Each strike still lands on bare skin, but rather than having your lower half naked, he likes to sometimes move the hold on your back and grasp at the waistband of your panties instead, jerking them up to wedge between your cheeks, effectively holding you in place and baring your skin at the same time.

He's so mean about it, taunts you that same voice you hate so much—

Aw, are you actually crying? Maybe I'll stop if you beg for something else…

There's no set number or standard of how much you'll be punished for any particular offense, which can be more torturous than anything. At least if you were given a number, you'd know how much more you had to endure. Instead, you just lurch and squeal each time his hand or the leather comes down... you kick your legs and thrash about, to no avail. In fact, you're pretty sure it just makes him hornier, you feel his cock twitch and his breathing grow more ragged the louder you cry out, and his hand on your back forces you down harder.

He’s actually totally shameless about getting off to it, too, so you can’t use that against him.

God, you're so cute when you cry like that... squeal louder for me...

The only real upside is that it's usually abruptly cut off at some point once he's too aroused by it to continue, and needs to just bury himself into your holes. You get slid off his lap onto the couch or bed, barely getting any time to recover — still sniffling and whimpering— before being contorted to whatever position he wants and rammed into without warning… thus for once, him being perpetually horny and having virtually no self-control actually becomes a positive. It still doesn't help, though, that the sex makes his hips smack against your sore ass with each thrust, but crying out about that only makes him go harder.

You know it could be much much worse — he makes sure to remind you that he could easily keep going until you completely break down, but he's so nice and you should be grateful for that — but you're still sore, and it leaves a pinkish-reddish tint under your natural flesh tone — something he likes to point out to you later, groping at your ass and laughing when you jolt at the sting. Your nose wrinkled with your expression of disgust as you jerk your head away from him, and you mutter under your breath.

Bastard...

And then, you squeal and lurch forward as one more harsh smack lands on your backside. You try to ignore the chuckling that follows as your eyes well up with embarrassed tears, and you bury your face beneath the covers of the bed.

-------

Diluc’s punishments are awful in terms of pain, but thankfully they're over fairly quickly because it's largely an act of momentary fury and irritation, and once he gets that anger out of his system, the punishment will be over, too.

He's still very intimidating about it, and it doesn't help that it's always a sort of spontaneous thing he decides on in the heat of the moment — thus you see the exact moment you know you've crossed a line, but also know (or at least, quickly learn) that there's nothing you can say or do at that point that will get you out of being punished. His eyes narrow and his voice lowers and he tells you to get over here in a voice that makes you feel like your heart just stopped, and your stomach feels as if it twists into a knot when you see the confirmation of your dread when he takes his belt off.

Running is not advisable — it's not like you'll succeed, and you'll just make him more mad. He's rough with how he handles you, dragging you by your clothes and hair over to bed, counter, or the back of a couch, forcing your head down.

How bad any one particular spanking is varies a lot depending on how mad you've succeeded in making him. He's not merciful at all, so he hits with force based on the level of his frustration. Thus, your attitude is important — you can technically commit a lesser offense, but if you keep backtalking and being bratty and fighting it, you'll likely get a worse punishment than you would for a worse offense for which you were apologetic and submitted to punishment easily.

What does change with the severity of your offense is that if what you didn't isn't so bad, you can keep your clothes on, but for particularly egregious transgressions, even in spite of the heat of the moment, unfortunately, he doesn't forget to pull your clothes up or down and off to make sure you're bared first.

He virtually always uses a belt, much to your dismay, and prefers to bend you over various surfaces since he can strike harder that way. It’s painful, you always end up in tears quickly, begging and pleading and spilling apologies for whatever you did, but he never has any mercy on you.

Much like you can’t get out of it to begin with, there’s also nothing you can do that will make it end any sooner than he feels like it. Over and over, grumbling with each strike about how you’re such a brat, how you can’t just behave, how it’s your own fault, until your flesh is reddened and burning badly enough that even when it’s over, all you can do is slump forward and cry.

If he went really hard on you, he might feel a little bad afterwards, getting you a wet cloth to soothe the burn… but he’ll still remind you that you wouldn’t be lying there all shivering and sobbing if you just learned to behave yourself properly.

For him, it’s more of an actual punishment first and foremost and not really an intentionally erotic thing, at first he’s too mad to think much about the eroticism of it… but seeing you lying there sniffling with your butt so heavily marked and welting, admittedly he does quickly get hard… and he’ll get incredibly flustered and embarrassed if you accuse him of getting off to it.

But be careful — push him too much on that matter, and such antagonism might be grounds for a round two on your already-stinging ass.

-------

Ayato’s punishments are particularly unpleasant, but the thing is that if you're in that situation, you deliberately chose it. Because he's gracious enough that you get a lot of warnings before reaching that point.

If you're being bratty, temperamental, rude, or whatever other behavior he doesn't like, you get a certain look first. The standard half-lidded eyes, unpleased expression, the universal ‘stop that right now’ glare. Maybe a passive aggressive comment if he can slide one into conversation.

If that fails — in other words, if you keep being a brat regardless, deliberately ignoring his warnings — you then get a verbal warning. He'll address you directly if it's just the two of you, but gods forbid you’re digging your own grave by misbehaving in front of others, he waits for a moment where everyone else's attention is on something else before pulling you close in a faux gesture of affection (with a grip harsh enough to ensure you get the message but not enough to alert anyone else in the room to his quiet fury), lowering his voice, whispering directly into your ear.

We’re going to have a talk about your behavior when this is over. Do you understand?

You know by now what a "talk" actually means, and hearing the words makes you stiffen and swallow. Granted, by the time it reaches the point that you've been that bad, you won't escape without at least a few swats, but if you persist, you'll just make it much worse. All you can do is nod your head and wait in dreadful anticipation.

As soon as the company you had leaves, you try to slowly back away, looking for an opening to run, but he has you grabbed by your clothes or hair and is dragging you off before you can even try. The total silence on his end as he drags you over to your room only serves to amplify your dread, and thereby your little whimpering protests.

The primary thing that will make it that much worse is what he uses to punish you, because from the day he brought you home, he anticipated a need for discipline at some point, and thus had a whipping cane custom-made just for you. One of those thin wooden canes designed for no other purpose than infliction of pain and punishment, which he leaves sitting out in your bedroom at all times, making sure it's always within sight as a subtle threat, a reminder of his power over you and that your behaviors have consequences.

He doesn’t raise his voice, doesn’t get heated, yet somehow that makes it so much worse. He’s perfectly calm as he holds you down on his lap, a hand wrapped into and grasping your clothes on your back to ensure you’re not going anywhere with each sharp pain on your bare skin. He’s very disciplinarian about it, ensuring to emphasize the reason and intention of the punishment itself—

Remember that you had every option of avoiding this. This is only the consequence you deserve. Do you realize that?

You nod and whimper and try to apologize, but it doesn’t make each swat any lighter. He’s rather harsh about the severity too, the degree of pain, duration, number of swats and outright humiliation often feel disproportionate to what is in your opinion a mild offense, although you know better than to voice that thought.

You beg, sure, you cry and whimper and say you'll take any other punishment, but it goes in one ear and out the other, your words have no effect, and while his voice has that characteristic gentleness to it, he's still cold and firm in his reply, if he even gives you one.

You're not getting out of this. Hold still.

He does take care of you afterwards, so lovingly and gently it makes you angry. He reminds you again that it wouldn't have to happen if you behaved, that you have no one but yourself to blame, all while kissing your crying face, holding you close and gently massaging the newly formed welts.

He also likes to make you gauge how many lashes you deserve beforehand, often making the total number a certain multiple of how many times you mouthed off or did something against your rules. And of course, whenever there's a fixed number, he makes you count.

Listening to your voice grow more and more shaky and begin to crack, your speech becoming slurred with sobs and oh, how precious is the sudden panic in your voice when you realize you've lost count. The way you tense and start begging and whimpering when he replies—

I suppose we'll have to start over...

-------

Morax’s punishments are always by far the worst.

That's largely because there's a maddening element of psychological torment involved. It's slow, drawn out, the dread and anticipation are almost worse than the punishment itself. He actually employs a variety of corporeal punishments, each of which make your stomach churn just to think about, but unfortunately, putting you over his knee and beating your ass until there's a deep red hue to your skin is a personal favorite of his.

What makes his style of discipline so unbearable is that you’ll be punished for literally anything. There is no possible offense, no rule to be broken, that won’t earn corporeal punishment of some kind, most usually on your poor ass. You get a very clear set of rules, rules you’re expected to know and obey from day one. Countless little rules, so many of them meticulous and pointless. Things you must do, things you must not do, and rigid standards for your attitudes and behaviors.

Each and every violation is its own offense — not to mention, things like lying when asked about what you did, objecting to punishments, even talking back or trying to defend yourself when accused count as individual offenses too. Sometimes you don’t even realize you’ve broken a rule until he tells you you’re going to be punished for it, and any protest or whining counts as another offense.

Really, you’re lucky if you can go a few days in a row fully able to sit without any stinging pain, and it’s not uncommon for you to earn back-to-back punishments one day after another. You know for a fact that your record of days in a row without ending up laying in bed, whimpering and crying and clutching your backside in pain is a single digit number.

Sometimes, if it’s severe enough, you’ll get put over his knee right then and there, but he’ll also tally up the small offenses and, at the end of the day, punish you cumulatively for every small offense you’ve made, because he can’t allow even the slightest offense to go unpunished.

It’s not limited to things you do in his presence either, because he has ways of finding out everything you do.

Every day that you can't accompany him, he has an established routine for when he returns. Firstly, of course, you're supposed to greet him when he comes in (any attempts to be petulant by giving him silent treatment or hiding away will result in further punishments), but then, as he sits you down, holds you close, he asks you the same question.

Have you done anything you should not have today?

It's a torturous question.

On one hand, you could have very well been very well-behaved, in which case you can answer honestly with at least some confidence (although even then, part of you hesitates thinking maybe you committed some offense unintentionally).

But when you haven't been well-behaved and you know it — that's what's torturous.

It's a gamble. He asks every single day, so him asking itself is not a dead giveaway that he knows what you did. If he doesn't know — well, you might be able to lie and get away with it. Inversely, how unfortunate would it be if you told him, and it turned out he didn't know, and then you had to suffer when you could have gotten away with it?

On the flip side, if he does know — well, you'll soon be squealing like a stuck pig regardless, but things are much, much worse if you try to lie. You would know — you've taken that gamble a few times now and lost.

He seems to have ways of finding out everything — you only lied when you were absolutely confident, thinking there was no way anyone saw the thing you did, only for your stomach to lurch when you feel the soft stroking against your thigh stop, and are met with a low voice—

…Is that so?

And the tone, the way he says it, you immediately know you've messed up.

Of course, you could hypothetically keep denying it, but entrenching yourself further in a lie is, by that point, the worst decision you could make — you would know, you tried that once and you couldn't sit down normally for over a week. The best thing to do now is to confess… you won’t get any mercy or a lighter punishment, but you’ll avoid the additional punishment you’d get for doing anything else.

But even then, he can’t even give you the decency of forcing your body to bend and getting it over with. It has to be drawn out, torturing you to the greatest degree possible — sometimes, he does this by delaying it, telling you he has something else to do first, leaving you to sit around and wait in anticipation for an hour or more. If an offense is bad enough, one session might not even be enough, and you're told that you'll get another one tomorrow, adding to your dread.

But most of the time, the torment comes from forcing your own participation. He keeps you firmly in his lap, reaching down to grope at the flesh where your butt meets your thighs.

What do you think you deserve to have happen to you?

Another test, a question for which you’ll only receive something worse in addition to whatever will happen already if answered incorrectly. There’s only one right answer—

…Y-you should... punish me...

On the bright side, he’s genuinely pleased once you start learning well enough to know what the right answer is.

You’re stood up, guided over to the drawers, hands firmly on your shoulders to ensure you don’t get any ideas about running. You hate that one drawer, it makes your stomach churn just to look at. He has a damn collection for you— leather straps, whipping canes, paddles with holes in them just to hurt that much more. He tells you to pick one.

That, too, is a test— you know which ones hurt more. You're supposed to gauge what you deserve based on the severity of your offense, and he'll be that much more displeased if you go too lightly on yourself, and will consequently be more forceful, which you do not want. Eventually, you manage to make your choice, biting your lip, pointing with a shaky hand, tensing as his hand runs motions that would be soothing in any other context up and down your thigh, pausing to grasp at the fleshy part of your backside.

Then you're led back— sometimes to face the wall or bend over a counter, but most often he prefers to keep you over his lap. Not that you'll be forced down either— not unless you make that necessary, which of course, you do not want. Unless you want it to be that much worse, you follow the commands— pull your robes up, the waistband of any underwear down, bare your skin (always, no matter how mild the offense), lay down on your stomach, put your hands behind your back so he can grasp your wrists.

And even then, even then you have to be tormented further.

Now, what did you do to deserve this?

You recall to the best of your ability, hoping you didn't forget anything, lest you be accused of trying to be deceitful in hopes of escaping consequences, which will add another tally to the list.

It’s painful. It always is. You've reached a point where your resolve to not cry and squeal is defeated pretty early. You used to try your best not to for the sake of your pride, but you know by now that it will go on long enough that your tears and crying out are inevitable.

He manages to somehow be so stoic and calm and yet somehow so, so cruel about it.

Does it hurt?

Your shoulders quiver with little sobs, you go tense as he gropes and kneads at the raw flesh.

Y-yes, it hurts, it hurts so bad, please no more, please—

You cut off with a high-pitched cry as the stinging pain strikes again. And again. And again. It's always so much, so unfair compared to the weight of whatever you did. That slight pinkish undertone isn't quite satisfying enough either, he never stops until there's a deep, deep red tone to your flesh.

If you've been especially bad, you may have to count… but he actually tends to prefer not giving you a set number. You're more fearful that way, uncertain of how much more you have to endure.

You're certain he gets off on the pain for one thing, the sound of your cries and the way you jolt and squirm, but the humiliation is worse than the pain itself, for you. He knows that, revels in it. He's told you before—

You're such a prideful little thing… that will certainly need to be fixed.

Repetitive subjection to something so inherently humiliating and vulnerable, and being made to break down, any semblance of toughness and dignity being torn away at his hands, is a way of slowly breaking down your pride. You know that, it makes you so angry, but you can't help but let that vulnerability be exposed every time, to act in such a way that ensures he knows how badly it humiliates you.

Your go limp with exhaustion when it finally stops.

What have you learned?

You can barely speak, voice hoarse from the strain of your cries and speech muffled by sniffles and sobs.

I'm sorry… I won't do it again…

And then, he has the audacity to be so, so sweet to you. Looking down at your tear-streaked face, smiling— no, smirking, a belittling, amused expression— leaning down to kiss your forehead.

Poor thing.

Kneading at the sore flesh in spite of how the touch makes you wince. As if it isn't his fault, as if he had any mercy on you the whole time you were begging for it to stop.

It only makes you angrier. More than once now, you've earned a second round for how you reacted to his undeserved kindness. So ungrateful.

It's never a solitary punishment either, always coupled with something else, always something equally humiliating and discomforting, if not painful. You know he gets off to it, because the second punishment is almost always a direct sex act of some kind.

You'll take his cocks down your throat, grabbing your skull and fucking your face without any restraint, forcing you to swallow every last drop of seed, even forcing your head down to lick up whatever you spill off the floor. Your saliva just provides the lube to force you to bed and fuck you until you can't even stand, and all the while his hips bounce off your poor ass, each movement stinging against the sensitive flesh. He'll bite your flesh, unnaturally sharp teeth even piercing you skin, leaving you covered in marks. If he's feeling really, really mean, you don't even get the semblance of pleasure of it ramming into your poor sore, raw pussy— you'll take both cocks into your tight little ass instead, a stretch that makes you squeal and thrash and cry. Your legs kick and you lurch forward, desperate to pull yourself off, but you're jerked back with a growl as he slams into you, completely bottoming out. Eventually, you give in as the stretching pain ebbs away and trying to take whatever pleasure you can from the faint stimulation to spots of pleasure through the walls of flesh. But the act is utterly humiliating nonetheless, your hole left twitching and gaping for hours as cum leaks out and onto your skin. You can't even sit for days, both your poor asshole and backside sore and tender.

Your embarrassment and resentment builds. You loathe him for it, feel so humiliated and angry at yourself and how deeply you dread the punishments that it makes you nauseous.

And thus, in one particular incident, fed up and filled with spite, you made the greatest mistake of your entire time trapped with him— you decided to run, seeing that for once you had an opening to do so.

A stupid choice, really. You don't get far. Not even a full ten steps.

You know immediately that you have severely, sincerely fucked up. The sheer harshness with which you're grabbed, the back of your clothes grasped and twisted with unprecedented force, the draconic growl to his voice that makes your blood run cold.

Oh, dearest, you have no idea how badly you've just stepped out of line.

His other hand latches onto your throat.

You're going to be sleeping on your stomach for quite some time, won't you?

The statement alone makes tears well in your eyes, any bitter pride quickly crushed. You shake your head profusely, start begging for forgiveness, but you know in your heart that it's far too late for that… it still doesn't stop you from whimpering and apologizing as you're dragged back down the hall, no doubt to one of the worst punishments you've endured yet.

#man this was unholy levels of degen even by my content's standards #from what little i know i feel like the two new guys would also fit this so maybe ill add them later

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