#firecracker recordings | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

get-back-homeward · 1 year ago

Text

I've gone through several stages of processing this Double Fantasy as a flower story and trying to verify it has turned into its own rabbit hole with no easy answer. So sharing some links from my journey.

Someone named Rob (Sheffield is that you??) asked about this on the UBS Botantical Forum in 2007 and got this answer:

RHS Plant Finder does list Freesia 'Fantasy' and mentioned the flower in their publication The Garden; page 333, May, 2002. It appears to be in the News section, so I don't know how much info it gives about the plant. Many of their articles are available online, but that article is not, so you would have to find a print copy. (We don't have it. I don't know what the article says.

So a double freesia named Fantasy is known. In a 2005 Royal Gazette article, Bermuda Botanical Gardens seems to support this:

We have not been able to get the exact Double Fantasy freesia since the 1980s. It used to come from a Dutch bulb seller and then the Department of Agriculture stopped the importation of bulbs from Amsterdam, she said. We now get Dutch bulbs via the US and were trying to get the original freesia, which was a double cream colour. The Double Fantasy freesia is the number one question that is asked by people coming to the gardens on bus tours.

The difference between single and double freesias:

Freesias come in both single and double flowered forms. The single flowered freesias have a more simple and elegant look, with one set of petals surrounding the center of the flower. The petals can come in a variety of colors, including red, pink, yellow, blue, and white. On the other hand, double flowered freesias have an extra set of petals, which gives them a more full and fancy appearance. This makes the double freesias look more abundant and showy compared to the single freesias.

Closest match I can find for a double cream freesia is something between these two (left being a double white, right being a single cream):

Which is surprising as it's not all that showy for a flower. I'm not familiar with it myself but gardening blogs tell me the novelty of growing freesias is their fragrance, a striking citrus-y scent.

Fred Seaman's account does not mention a color for the freesia, although colorful irises surrounding it are named. Instead, it focuses on the sign that grabbed John's attention:

However, some people in Bermuda have called into question whether the flower John saw could have been a freesia given the time of year he visited and when freesias normally bloom. Here's an updated article in Royal Gazette from 2011:

Masterworks plans to erect a statue designed by local artist Graham Foster next June to commemorate Mr Lennon’s visit complete with a picture of the flower on it. But Mary Lodge, principal of St George’s Preparatory School in St George’s, has her doubts that Mr Lennon ever saw a freesia at the Botanical Gardens. She lives near the Botanical Gardens and walks there frequently. “I have several points that make me think it wasn’t a freesia,” Ms Lodge said. “In the early mid 1980s there was one of the little black signs in the park that clearly labelled a hibiscus bush as ‘Double Fantasy’. “Lennon was here in June and July and freesias don’t flower at that time.” This variety of freesia, would have been cultivated, rather than wild. “The only way it would be there is if they planted it,” said Ms Lodge.

The Royal Gazette contacted former director of Agriculture and Fisheries, Edward Manuel, who worked with the department for more than 40 years before retiring two decades ago. He said he had no recollection of seeing a Double Fantasy freesia at the Botanical Gardens. But he couldn’t remember seeing a Double Fantasy hibiscus there either. “June and July would have been too late for freesias to bloom,” said Mr Manuel. Ms Lodge said if the flower Mr Lennon saw was in fact, a hibiscus, it would only be to Masterworks’ benefit. “The Double Fantasy hibiscus is gorgeous,” she said. “It is as big as a dinner plate.”

If there ever were Double Fantasy freesias at the Botanical Gardens, chances are, they weren’t there for very long. Double Fantasy freesias were first grown in Holland. Unfortunately, double freesias, in general, are notorious for having fertility problems, and it is probably for this reason that the Double Fantasy freesia is extremely rare today. In 1971, two scientists, J Baer and O Kho, wrote a paper about freesias called ‘An Investigation into the Cause of Sterility in Double-Flowering Freesia Varieties and the Possibility of Restoring Fertility’. They found that this flower tended to produce single flowers rather than doubles when grown in conditions exceeding 20C (68F). The average temperature in Bermuda in June is 27.2C (81F). Even in the winter, the temperature in Bermuda is at the limit for the flower with average temperatures being between 15.5C (60F) and 20.5C (69F) in January, February and April. However, if a mistake was made, it was made by John Lennon himself. Perhaps, to speculate, he saw the label left over from when the flowers bloomed there in the spring, and imagined the flower that went with the label.

This theory is based on average temperature. But was June 1980 an average June for Bermuda?

It looks like 1980 did have a cooler June than normal, but it still was not cool enough to be in that optimal 60-69 degrees for freesias. Could there have been a hardy plant that lasted into early June? Perhaps, if that was when they visited the garden, but according to Seaman's timeline, it was later in the month.

If the flower John saw was a hibiscus, it's not clear what color it would have been. But here's a white-based double hibiscus to compare:

Which flower is more likely to inspire an album title?

In the end, the sign designating the name was probably more important than the flower itself. For the sake of details, it's too bad there's little agreement about the type of flower that had the sign Double Fantasy in the garden. As it is, the most we can say is that the album title is inspired by a flower and that's probably all that mattered to John.

"One day, John took Sean to the Bermuda Botanical Gardens where, under a cedar tree, he came across some delicate white-and-yellow flowers called a Double Fantasy. "It's a type of freesia," John explained, "but what it means to us is that if two people picture the same image at the same time, that is the secret." And then one night he wandered into Hamilton and, curious to find out what kind of music people were listening to, he went club-hopping — something he hadn't done since the mid-1970s in Los Angeles — and ended up at a spot called Disco 40. "Upstairs, they were playing disco," John would later tell me, "but downstairs I suddenly heard 'Rock Lobster' by the B-52s for the first time. Do you know it? It sounds just like Yoko's music, so I said to meself, 'It's time to get out the old ax and wake the wife up!'"

ㅡ From Jonathan Cott's book "Days That I Will Remember: Spending Time With John Lennon And Yoko Ono", 2013.

#double fantasy #bermuda #1980 #so coming up (like a flower) inspires him to start writing/recording again and he names the album after a flower #thats fine this is fine #bugs with flowers #john stories #my replies #bug influences #yoko ono #the b52s #the b52s bit is no joke tho rock lobster is like punkifed 60s surfer riff meets weird quirky yoko backing vocals #rock lobster hits billboard charts end of april (even tho its around since 78) and stays 8 weeks thru may/june same time as coming up #it could be seen to be at odds with the coming up story and yet imagine both are true #coming up john hears in ny and is the firecracker to get writing again and starts demoing on his own in bermuda #then hears the b-52s realizes yokos sound is in vogue and takes this as a sign to convince her they need to get back in the studio now #that fits the double fantasy name more than anything no? thats the sounds of his two main partners in the space of 1-2 months

47 notes · View notes

floatyflowers · 1 year ago

Text

Dark Platonic! Homelander x Reader

Part 1 part 2

Your life as homelander none supe daughter is a nightmare that you can't seem to get out of no matter how you do.

After all, you can't leave Ryan behind, you care too much for your little half-brother then to leave him in the care of your psychotic father.

You don't want him to get brainwashed.

However, one day, your father decided to introduce to the Seven.

And you connected well with each one of them.

You are socially intelligent after all, so it's easy for you to read each one of them.

They all have a fear of your father espically Ashley.

That's why you feel like they are tense around you when Homelander glares at them.

Eventually you meet Billy Butcher through Starlight, and he made you realize that you can depend on them to back you up against Homelander.

So, you decided to expose your father on social media.

But how can you do that when Homelander took away your phone?

Simple, you just asked the boys for help and they gave you a phone.

You made sure that day that nobody is home before you started recording a video on TikTok.

"Hi everyone, you may know me as the Homelander's daughter, I wish to just make something clear, my father is not a good-hearted..."

The video has been seen by 15 million people, the comments is split into two.

People who are calling an ungrateful brat and an attention seekers fueled by Firecracker who accused Starlight of brainwashing you.

And people who support you who also happen to be Starlight's fans.

Of course, Homelander got so angry but Sister Sage advices him not to delete the video.

But instead she tells him to force you to make another video with him in it, and apologize for insulting him before explaining that you did this because you both had a little fight.

And this is exactly what happened.

However, you couldn't run to the boys as your father had watched 24/7, he even had cameras everywhere.

When I say everywhere, I mean everywhere.

Homelander has reached the point where he started to feel jealous of Ryan spending time with you.

He feels like his extension son is going to replace one day.

Homelander is on the verge of snapping.

And you know very well, that one mistake could lead to a disaster.

So you decided to give up and be his obedient daughter for the sake of you and Ryan.

But it seems like Billy Butcher won't let that happen.

#tw: toxic relationships #reader insert #platonic yandere #daughter reader #the boys #Yandere the boys #homelander x reader #possessive #yandere homelander

942 notes · View notes

woozivrsefactry · 1 year ago

Text

lee jihoon as your producer (implied idol!reader)

producer jihoon who was shy the very first time he met you with your manager because, even apart from his general incapability to mingle with females, he found you extraordinarily attractive

producer jihoon who may have been cool and composed on the outside but had firecrackers in his head when he was told he'll be your semi-permanant co-producer for your music.

producer jihoon who suggest you two hang out more often so he can get to know you better and thereby make more suitable songs for your personality, except he really only wanted to spend as much time with you as he possibly could

producer jihoon who started taking gym more seriously than ever when he heard you say muscular men are your ideal type during an interview

producer jihoon who always brings you lunch and dinner whenever you are at his studio, especially your favorite junk foods which you wouldn't be able to eat in front of your manager due to your diet

producer jihoon who has an assorted playlist of all the songs that reminds him of you

producer jihoon who is internally bouncing in joy when you tell him how good a friend he is to you

producer jihoon who gets lost watching you sing in his studio

producer jihoon who streams your performaces and livestreams as often as he can, feeling pride and glee swell in his chest as you give him a special thanks for helping your music

producer jihoon for whom you are genuinely an inspiration because you inspire him with your personality, your pretty body, the things you do for/with him

producer jihoon who is as red as a tomato when you scoot too close to him while editing your music in his studio

producer jihoon whose dick twitches in his pants when you suggest adding some moaning sounds in one of your rather sensual songs as adlibs

producer jihoon whose job as a producer includes telling you that you don't sound realistic enough when you attempt to mimik your own sounds in bed

producer jihoon who, when you ask for suggestions, tells you that you could try touching yourself sensually if it would help, and even offer to turn around to give you that privacy

producer jihoon who is took by surprise when you tell him that he didn't have to turn around if he wanted, the lust in your eyes almost piercing through the camera in the recording studio as you look up at it

producer jihoon who, being a man as he is, takes full advantage, watching you strip out of your lower half and push your top up, taking a seat on the stool there and touching your most sensitive areas.

producer jihoon who records all the sounds you make, slowly stroking himself over his joggers and saves the recordings in one of his private files.

producer jihoon who loses his composer when he hears his name slip off your tongue between moans, and he gets up and barge into the recording studio

producer jihoon who you don't take as surprise as he starts kissing you aggressively with all horniness of a sex-starved young man (that he is)

producer jihoon who holds you up with one arm (thanks for the gym motivation) and takes you to the big white couch in his studio

producer jihoon who practically licks up every inch of your skin, telling you of how much you had been tempting and teasing him and how badly he's been wanting to do this

producer jihoon, prior to whom you didn't know how big of a praise kink you had, because your clit throbs at the way jihoon calls you a good girl

producer jihoon who has the best sex he's ever had, and he might have cum embarrassingly soon all over your stomach, though its fine because you came along with him.

producer jihoon with hom sex after work is now regular, whether its right there in his studio or at his big penthouse where he takes you sometimes

producer jihoon who is glad you ask him out soon because he doesn't think he'd ever have the balls to do that himself (doesn't matter how shameless and nasty he is in bed)

#seventeen #svt #svt imagines #svt smut #svt x reader #seventeen smut #seventeen headcanons #svt headcanons #woozi smut #woozi #woozi x reader #lee jihoon #lee jihoon x reader #jihoon #seventeen woozi

796 notes · View notes

keraawrites · 3 months ago

Text

Still us?

Summary: It was platonic; it had to be. You guys were the best co-parents there were, but that didn't mean you didn't still love him, that didn't mean you still got wet thinking about him every night. ۶ৎ Bakugo x black fem reader ۶ৎ

Contex: Co-parents, dirty talk, use of the word daddy, mama, ma, cunnilingus, unprotected sex, soft but rough sex, kitchen sex

word count — 3.2k

Your house was buzzing with the kind of chaotic joy only a three-year-old’s birthday party could bring. Colourful streamers dangled from the ceiling, a banner with “BOOM! Happy Birthday, Baby Blast!” stretched across the wall, and the scent of pizza, frosting, and too many lit birthday candles filled the air. Laughter bounced off the walls, kids darted around like little gremlins hopped up on sugar, and the grown-ups—some friends, some family—did their best to keep up.

Your son—your wild, beautiful little firecracker—was at the heart of it all. In his blue birthday shirt with a cartoon explosion on the front and a bright red cape flowing behind him, he looked like a tiny hero-in-training. Curls bouncing with every step, cheeks smeared with chocolate, his energy was contagious. He zipped between groups of kids like he had somewhere to be, pausing only to grab another juice box or show off the “power pose” Uncle Deku taught him, which was, in his words, “soooo cool it made the table shake.”

He didn’t want to be too far from either of you—every five minutes, he was running up to tug on your shorts or Kaysuki’s pant leg, needing a hug, or to show off his newest toy, or to just rest his head for a second before launching back into the madness. At one point, when you knelt to fix the strap on his sneaker, he hugged your neck and whispered, “Best party ever, Mama.”

Yeah. That made everything—your aching feet, your cluttered kitchen, the cake stain on your carpet—so damn worth it.

Bakugo stood off to the side, arms crossed, trying to play it cool like he wasn’t lowkey melting. But you caught him. Eyes soft, mouth twitching like he wanted to grin but didn’t want anybody to see. He looked so damn good—black tee snug around his arms, loose joggers hanging low on his hips, a little frosting smudged on his jaw like even the cupcakes wanted a taste. You weren't the only one who noticed, either.

But it was more than that. He wasn’t just your baby daddy. He was him. Top pro hero. Good ass dad. And whether you liked to admit it or not—still fine as hell.

You’d wanted to make the day perfect. It was your son’s third birthday, and he had demands. As much as he loved his dad, his obsession with both Deku and Dynamight meant this party was green and orange chaos. Much to Katsuki’s dismay, he still made it happen. Because he always showed up for his son. No matter what.

And that’s the thing about him—he’s good at everything. Always has been. Including being annoyingly, disgustingly good in bed. Which, honestly, was a blessing and a curse.

You two broke up two years ago. It was hard, but it was necessary. He was rising through the hero ranks, your job was demanding, and you had a one-year-old who needed everything. You didn’t want to grow resentful. Didn’t want to hate each other. So you ended it with love. Quiet, aching love. The kind that never really goes away.

Most people didn’t get it. But it worked for you.

When it was time for the cake, everyone gathered around the kitchen island. You lit the candles while Bakugo held your son up on the counter like he was the most important person in the world (which, to you both, he was). He grinned so wide you thought his little face might split, eyes glued to the flames, bouncing in Katsuki’s arms.

“Okay, ready?” you called out, raising your phone to record.

And the crowd erupted into song.

“Happy birthday to you…”

Your son was absolutely eating it up. Giggling, wiggling, soaking in the love like sunshine. He clapped along with the beat, even sang his own name extra loud at the end. When they finished, he shouted, “Blow ‘em out with me, Daddy!” and Bakugo leaned in so they could do it together.

One puff, two sets of cheeks, and the candles went out in a small puff of smoke and cheers.

“Best. Day. Ever!” your son yelled, pumping his fist in the air like a tiny pro hero.

Bakugo smirked, still holding him close, whispering something in his ear that made your baby snort so hard he hiccupped. The sight of them together like that—your son beaming, Katsuki so soft around him—it made your chest ache in a way you didn’t have words for. A good ache. A deep one.

Eventually, the sugar crash hit hard. After goodie bags were passed out and the last guest was escorted out with a slice of cake and a juice box, the house quieted. Your son was curled up on the couch, cape wrapped around him like a blanket, his little fingers still clutching the Dynamight action figure his dad gave him. Out cold, tiny snores escaping his frosting-sticky mouth.

Golden hour slipped through your windows like honey, the kitchen glowing with syrupy light. You’d snuck upstairs to change—into one of Katsuki’s old Dynamight tees and a pair of shorts you didn’t realise were that short until you saw yourself in the mirror. Bonnet on, lip gloss faded, and cheeks still glittery from the “makeover” your niece insisted on giving you, you padded barefoot back downstairs and started tidying, humming to yourself a little.

"You always hum when you’re about to cry or cuss somebody out," his voice rumbled low from behind you, that familiar smirk threading through it like a dare.

You snorted, not turning around just yet. "Or when I’m tryna not cuss somebody out."

"You always hummed around me."

"Yeah because I always wanted to cuss you out."

His chuckle was soft, almost quiet—completely not Bakugo nature, but it was nice. You hated how much you still loved that sound.

"You did good, Ma," he said, voice closer now.

And that. That little “Ma” he always hit you with when he was being sentimental, or trying to get under your skin, or both? Yeah, that wasn’t fair. At all.

You finally turned to face him, leaning your hip against the counter. “You helped,” you said casually, keeping it cool. “Birthday boy would’ve lost it if both his favourites weren’t here.”

You could feel the way his gaze was on you, your hands shaking slightly from the little alcohol you had managed to sneak into your punch but also because you could feel the intensity of his stare.

You turned back around, busying yourself once again in order to ignore what was going on between your legs. "He needs to go to bed before he morphs into that sofa."

"Already done it, brat was mumbling about his favourite uncle in his sleep." You giggled at the gruffness in his voice, you didn't even need to face him to know his face was set in his permanent scowl but there was no malice behind his words.

You smiled to yourself, back still half-turned as you rinsed a cup out in the sink. “Mhm. You jealous?”

He scoffed. “Hell yeah, I’m jealous,” he grumbled, stepping up behind you, crowding your space. “Ain’t no way that nerd gets more love than me in this house.”

You turned your head, arching a brow. “You’re literally his dad. You already got the top spot.”

“Tch. Still don’t like sharin’,” he muttered.

And there it was—that little sliver of possessiveness that always made your spine straighten and your thighs press together. The way he said it, all low and annoyed like your son idolising Deku was a personal betrayal. You had to bite your cheek to stop the smile that threatened to stretch across your lips.

You looked up at him fully now. His eyes were darker than before, settled on you with that old familiar heat. The one that used to make your knees weak and your back arch.

“Didn’t realise you still wore my shirts,” he said, eyes running over you, voice dropping, thick with something that made your stomach flip.

You gave a shrug, casual but cocky. “Comfy.”

His tongue swiped over his bottom lip. “Looks better on you than it ever did on me.”

“Katsuki—”

“Been thinkin’ about you,” he cut in. Just said it, all reckless and raw, like he hadn’t just been in your house around your family all day. Like y’all hadn’t been broken up for two years.

You blinked. “Don’t.”

“Why not?” he said, stepping in close. One hand braced on the counter behind you, caging you in. “You don’t still think about me?”

You turned your head, as much as you could, trying to ignore the way he smelled. That damn cologne he always wore, the same one he wore the first time you guys got together all the way back in UA.

You felt his finger ghost over your hand, pulling you back into reality. “You gon’ tell me you didn’t do this shit on purpose?” he asked, eyes flicking down to the hem of your shorts, the edge of your bonnet slipping just a little.

Your thighs pressed together instinctively, the weight of his words settling heavy in your stomach.

“I didn’t do it for you,” you don’t even know if it was a lie, but your voice was too soft and too shaky to be believable.

“Yeah?” he smirked, eyes narrowing. “Then why you shakin’?”

You turned back to the dishes again, heart thumping like it wanted out. But you already knew—resistance was temporary. You’d been down this road before. And Katsuki always knew how to get you to walk it again.

He was your first everything. Your only real everything. From high school halls to a hospital room where you both cried meeting your son, to this house filled with all the in-betweens. You could play coy all you wanted. But your body remembered.

Your breathing shook when you felt your back hit his chest. His hands didn’t touch you—yet—but his presence was wrapped around you like smoke, thick and inescapable. You could feel the heat rolling off of him, the steady rise and fall of his chest behind you, the way he exhaled like he was holding back something heavy.

Your nails scraped against the sink as you held it like it was anchoring you down to Earth as you felt the way his fingers skimmed over your arms.

Katsuki,” you said carefully, voice a whisper. “We’re not…”

“Not together. Yeah. I know.” His eyes flicked over you, he turned you to face him, fingers still skimming over your skin. “Doesn’t change how I feel.”

You felt your heart stutter. You’d had so many nights alone where you wondered if he still felt it too. If all the love you tucked away, folded up neatly under co-parenting and polite distance, was still sitting under his skin the same way.

“I miss you,” he said, voice thick. “I miss coming home to this. Miss seeing you like this. Soft. Tired. Still takin’ care of everything even when it’s just you.”

Your eyes burned.

“I never wanted to stop being a family,” he said, stepping closer until his chest brushed yours. “Even when I fucked up. Even when I didn’t know how to fix it.”

You swallowed hard. “You can’t just say stuff like that, ‘Suki.”

“Why not?”

“Because I’ll believe you.”

His hand slid around your waist, pulling you in slow, his breath warm against your cheek.

“Then believe me.”

Your body moved before your brain could catch up. His lips were already on yours, hands gripping your waist like he was holding on for dear life—and you melted. Melted like butter in the pan, like it hadn’t been two whole years since the last time he kissed you like that.

Like not a single thing had changed.

“Suki…”

“Shh, mama. I got you. Just… please. Let us have this.”

His voice was barely a whisper, but it hit like a wrecking ball. Knocked straight into the walls you’d built—every brick, every stubborn layer of distance and pride crumbling under the weight of his voice and the way he held you like home.

God, you missed him.

Your lips moved against his like muscle memory, fingers tangling in the soft hair at the back of his neck. He backed you into the counter with ease, the same place y’all had just passed out cake slices and goodie bags now transformed into the center of the damn universe.

His hands slipped under the hem of the shirt you were wearing—his shirt—and dragged up your skin slow, like he needed to re-learn every inch of you.

“You really gon’ stand there and lie to me?” he murmured against your jaw, mouth trailing kisses down your neck. “Like I don’t know this body better than my own?”

You shivered, breath hitching. “We shouldn’t…”

“But you want to.” He pressed his hips against yours, letting you feel exactly how much he did too.

Your answer came out as a soft, needy whimper.

“You wearin’ panties under this?” he asked, voice low, teasing as he nosed along your throat. “Or you just lettin’ it drip down your thighs like the good girl I know you are?”

Your knees damn near gave out.

“I—fuck, Katsuki.”

He laughed, breath hot on your skin, and in one smooth motion, lifted you up onto the counter. Your legs fell open easy as breathing, and he slotted himself between them, hands already tugging your shorts down like his body remembered the choreography.

“Still this fuckin’ wet for me,” he muttered, fingers gliding through your folds. His groan was deep, guttural. “Shit, mama.”

You bit your lip, one hand tangling in his hair as the other braced on the counter behind you.

The blonde dropped to his knees without hesitation. He grabbed the back of your thighs, dragging you closer until your ass was hanging off the edge. You remembered how he used to sweet talk you before eating your pussy but not today.

A choked moan left you as his tongue licked a broad stripe up your centre, moaning into it like the taste alone had him losing his mind. “Missed this fucking pussy mama, missed you” he growled, burying his face between your legs like he needed you to breathe.

Your head fell back, the moan that ripped from your throat embarrassingly loud in the quiet kitchen.

His fingers dug into your thighs, keeping you wide open as he licked and sucked, tongue curling just right over your clit before sliding back down to your entrance. He didn't forget what you liked, after years of knowing your body the man still knew how to suck on you clit with enough pressure to have your eyes rolling.

“You’re--fuck such a mess, baby,” you gasped, voice shaking. “Katsuki--oh my God—”

“Say my name again,” he growled against your cunt. “Let me hear it.”

“Katsuki!”

He latched onto your clit at that, sucking hard and fast until your legs trembled around his shoulders, your body rocking against the countertop like you were trying to escape the overwhelming pleasure—but he wasn’t having that.

“Don’t run,” he grunted. “Take it. You know how I eat. That pretty pussy still remembers, huh?”

Your orgasm slammed into you without warning, your hips jerking, mouth falling open in a silent cry as the waves of it crashed through you.

And Katsuki didn’t stop.

Not until your thighs were twitching, not until your hands fisted in his hair and you were whimpering his name like a prayer. Only then did he pull back, licking his lips like he had just finished your famous Sunday dinners.

"Fuckin' missed you so much ma, please, please tell me you've missed me too?" He practically whined as he pulled down his joggers just enough to free himself.

You couldn’t stop staring. He was hard, thick, already leaking, and somehow even bigger than you remembered.

Or maybe it just felt that way because it had been too long.

His hand gripped your chin, your eyes meeting each other as you tucked your lip between your teeth.

"Come on baby..." He ran his length between your folds, tapping the tip against your clit a couple of times causing you to whine.

"Missed you so much 'Suki please."

He slid in, slow but deep—too deep. You choked on a gasp as he filled you to the brim, head dropping to his shoulder.

“Fuck—so tight,” he groaned, gripping your hips. “You really ain’t let nobody touch this since me, huh?”

You shook your head, panting. “Only you.”

And damn if that didn’t break something in him.

He pulled out slow, almost all the way, then slammed back in, hard enough to jolt the dishes on the counter. Your body arched into his, hands scrabbling for something to hold on to as he started to fuck you in earnest.

He was trying to make up for lost time, every deep stroke had him whispering praises in your ear.

You're whining and moaning like an absolute slut and it makes his dick throb and his balls tighten, pussy clenching around him like a vice.

"Fuck, I miss hearing those sounds." His hands pull your thighs further apart, thumb strumming at your clit while he fucked you into a trance. Your eyes had taken up residence in the back of your head as the sheer force of every thrust had your bonnet slipping halfway done your head, little by little your braids started falling into your face making you look like a fucking Goddess.

He could feel you tightening around him, letting go of your thighs his hand clamped around your throat as he pulled you into a searing kiss tongues and teeth lashing together as your legs wrapped around him, pulling him in like you were trying to become one.

He continued to pound you into oblivion, fucking you like it might be the last time, but you hoped to God that it wasn't.

Mine,” he growled against your lips, slamming into you again and again. “You're mine, this family is mine, say it."

“Yours,” you gasped, nails digging into his back. “Always been yours, daddy—fuck!”

He feels the way you go rigid in his arms, the first syllable of his name stuck in your throat and he knew your cumming for him again.

He felt it—the way you locked up around him, the way your cunt milked him like it never wanted to let go. You came again, loud and messy, coating his cock in a creamy white slick, and he followed you soon after, hips jerking, breath catching as he emptied inside you with a deep, guttural groan.

The kitchen was silent except for your breathing. Heavy, shaky. The kind that came with everything—sex, love, grief.

He didn’t pull out right away.

Just held you.

You curled into him instinctively, lips pressed to his neck, and you stayed like that for a moment. Wrapped up in each other. The ache was still there. But it didn’t hurt as much now.

“You think he heard us?” Katsuki muttered after a beat.

You snorted, voice muffled by his shirt. “He sleeps like a rock.”

Katsuki leaned back, brushing your cheek with his thumb. "I meant what I said, can we talk, properly?"

You nodded, throat tight. “Yeah. I’d like that.”

𝘈𝘭𝘭 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘬 𝘪𝘴 𝘥𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘣𝘺 𝘮𝘦, 𝘳𝘦𝘣𝘭𝘰𝘨𝘴, 𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘮𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘴 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦𝘴 𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘢𝘭𝘸𝘢𝘺𝘴 𝘢𝘱𝘱𝘳𝘦𝘤𝘪𝘢𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘬𝘦𝘳𝘢𝘢𝘸𝘳𝘪𝘵𝘦𝘴 ©

#black fem reader #black female smut #katsuki bakugo mha #my hero academia #bakugo smut #katsuki smut #fanfic #katsuki x black reader #bakugou smut #katsuki bakugou smut #bakugo x black!reader #bakugo x black female

324 notes · View notes

trevlad-sounds · 2 years ago

Text

Friday 27 October Mixtape 390 “Modular Creek” Electronic experimental Instrumental Electronica Wednesdays & Sundays. Support the artists and labels. Don't forget to subscribe or tip so future shows can bloom.

Trevlad Sounds-Welcome in you wonderful listener 00:00

Lone Bison-Boss Hog Modular 00:31

Linkwood-What's Up With The Underground? Pt1 03:32

Massive Suits Quartet-Dancing With Her (Woman's Theme) 08:08

LAV-Collaborative Survival 10:43

David Pritchard-Wax Wings 15:32

Bernard Grancher-Partir mais dans une autre sous-couche 17:50

CV Vision-The Chase 23:18

Time Wharp-R (Version) 27:11

Hiroshi Yoshimura-Creek 32:04

Sam Rosenthal-I Remember 36:34

Frederic & Olivier-Le pre de mon oncle 39:38

Andrew Weatherall-Vorfreude 2 41:28

Vic Mars-Science:Physics 48:33

Yan Tregger-Girls Will Be Girls 49:59

Monochrome Echo-Submerged 55:14

1 note · View note

thezombieprostitute · 1 month ago

Text

Cherry Bomb

Summary: Mob Boss Steve's life gets a much needed dose of excitement when you move into his neighborhood.

A/N: Written for @darkficsyouneveraskedfor's Mafia Bingo AU. Dedicated to @biteofcherry.

A/N2: Reader is female, on the shorter side. No other physical descriptors used.

Word Count: ~4.5k (new record!)

Warnings: Power imbalance, Smut, Violence (comedic, if that helps). Please let me know if I missed any!

The Mob life isn't all high stakes meetings and shootouts like it's portrayed as in the movies. In fact, as Steve can attest, most days are pretty boring. At least once you've established yourself like he has.

The businesses in his territory paid protection fees. He and his men kept the people safe. It was a good deal, in his eyes at least. His Family actually looked after their community, unlike many others in the surrounding territories. Ones that just took money and fed their power trips with fear.

But he has to admit, he's bored. He almost misses the early days where he always had to be on alert. When there was a fight every other day. When he still had to work for what he now has.

Expansion has been tempting, but he doesn't have the manpower to do so and keep his current territory secure. He might be profiting from the situation but he does take the security and well-being of his territory seriously.

His boredom was such that, when he learned a new business was opening, a gardening store and nursery, he was tempted to introduce the owner to the safety payment system himself. But it wouldn't be a good look for the man in charge to do the work of foot soldiers. Instead he sent Jake and Curtis who had almost mastered the carrot/stick approach.

To say he was surprised when they returned empty handed and injured would be an understatement.

"What the hell happened to you?" he exclaims.

"New store owner is a fucking firecracker," Curtis grunts as his arm gets stitched up.

"We told her why we there and she just exploded on us," Jake said through sniffles. "There was so much pollen! I still can't breathe through my nose."

"Tried to use force and next thing I know I'm keeping my face from getting hit by a trowel," Curtis added. "She was just smacking me with it, but those corners caught me in a few places."

"We opted for a tactical retreat," Jake continues after blowing his nose into another tissue.

Bucky snorts. "She kicked your asses."

"She had the element of surprise," Curtis argues.

"Well now she doesn't," Steve interjects. "Curtis and Jake, you're out so you can heal up, maybe get some antihistamines. Bucky, since you're so eager to insult these two, you go and show them how it's done."

"Not a problem," Bucky smirks.

Less than an hour later Bucky storms in, smirk gone, scratches along his face, favoring his right leg.

"She got you, too," Curtis snorted.

"How did she get you?" Steve asks, aghast that his best man was so hurt and yet empty handed.

"Cherry bomb," Bucky grunts. "Played so sweet and soft but the second I got close, she exploded. Kicked my shin while wearing steel toe boots. I managed not to lose my footing but I dropped my face just low enough that she SMACKED ME WITH A CACTUS! REPEATEDLY!"

Curtis nods. "She's got a hell of an arm."

Bucky glares at Curtis. "The bitch smacked my ass with the damn thing!"

Curtis starts laughing and Steve steps between the two men to prevent a fight.

"You go get patched up," he orders. "Make sure you're not going to get an infection or something from a cactus needle. I'll go ahead and take care of this myself."

"Sure you're up for it?" Jake asks, nose mostly still stuffed from the pollen. "You haven't been in the field for a while."

"That's what will make it even more impressive when I get my payment," Steve asserts, fixing his tie, before heading out.

You let out a frustrated sigh as you clean up the mess from the last asshole trying to get "protection money". You'd hoped you were done with that when you got out of Rumlow's territory. You'd heard things were better here. Well, given how easily you were able to fight off those men, maybe it was better for those who could fight. And you weren't one to give in easy.

The bell above the door rings and you look up, disappointed to see another suit instead of a customer. At least the guy makes the suit look good. He's a lot bigger than the other guys, his golden hair and beard giving him an almost lion like mane. His demeanor isn't cocky like the last guy. His movements are smoother than the first two, like he's got better control over his every muscle. And you can imagine there's quite a bit of muscle under that suit. It's a shame you'll have to ruin that suit and scratch up that handsome face.

"Hi there," he says with a smile. "I'm Steve Rogers, the man in charge of this neighborhood."

That comment makes you roll your eyes. "From where I'm standing, you're not in charge of anything." You expect rage, but instead, he laughs.

"I want to thank you. Less than a week and you've already caused more disruptions than we've had in over a year."

"I caused nothing," you counter, hoping to hide how weak-kneed his voice makes you. "You and yours caused it by demanding money for nothing. They should count themselves lucky I didn't spray them with repellent."

"It isn't nothing," he claims. "We actually do help our people."

You snort. "Sure, that's what all you mob wannabes say. Keeping us safe from actually bad people who'd bring in drugs and guns. Blah, blah, blah. Meanwhile you're stealing my money that would be better spent on protecting my plants from spider-mites and sciaridare."

"How much are you spending?" You tell him the amount and his eyebrows rise as he considers. Pulling out his phone he dials a number, "Jensen, I need you to get in touch with Turner. See if he's willing to share some of his pesticides and whatnot from his nursery."

He hangs up the phone and looks at you. "You'd be paying a lot less for the stuff."

"But I'd still be paying you," you grumble. "How does that save me money?"

"I'm not charging you the difference," he replies.

"I'm still not interested in paying you anything. You can get me a small discount on the good stuff? That's not enough for me." You cross your arms and turn your nose up at him.

"It'll also help the community you've set yourself up in," he shrugs. "The parks? The food bank? You'll be helping out the people around you as well."

"That's what taxes are for!"

"That's what they're supposed to be for," he argues. "But we know that isn't how it tends to work."

You huff and he steps closer to you. He somehow manages to be intimidating while also not invading your personal space. Your mind, again, goes to the image of the muscles he's likely working with under that suit.

"I still don't think I should have to pay so you can wear expensive suits and eat at fancy restaurants," you gripe. "You're profiting off of everyone in the area and telling us we're helping each other out!"

"So your saying if I was wearing say, a white t-shirt and grey sweatpants you'd be more willing to work with me?" Steve smirks as he sees your eyes go soft and you almost biting your lip at the mental image he gave you.

He's still smirking when you shake your head and glare at him. The fact that you're obviously attracted to him and he's toying with you throws you into a rage.

"Get out of my store!" you yell, grabbing the nearest object and throwing it at him.

He dodges it easily, but his smirk drops and he closes the gap between you. "Do you really wanna do this, Cherry Bomb?" he almost growls as he firmly grips your chin.

Instead of answering him, you break from his grasp and move to bite his fingers but, again, he's able to dodge. You go for a kick and he moves out of the way while pulling on you so you almost fall on your ass. He catches you before you hit the cement flooring, but you're thrown off kilter.

Using his size advantage he pushes your back against a nearby table and pins your hands down at your sides.

"You can either agree to pay, or bad things will happen to---"

In your desperation for an opening, you try to surprise him with a kiss. Instead of him being shocked and loosening his grip like you expected, he returns the kiss with a passion. You can't help the stop the small moan you let out and he takes the opportunity to shove his tongue into your mouth. When was the last time you'd been kissed with such fire?

He pulls away and you whine. He's still got a firm grip on your arms, keeping you pinned.

"You taste like cherry," he growls, licking his lips. You try to keep fighting but he's too strong. "Haven't had a kiss like that in ages."

"It wasn't that good," you snipe.

"I was talking about myself, but I guess it's been a while for you, too," he chuckles.

Heat rushes to your face at your slip up and you move to kick him, headbutt him, anything. Instead, he does similar to before where he uses your own force against you. And, again, he's the only think that keeps you from face planting onto the cement floor. He ends up getting you into a hold from behind, one of his thick arms around your torso, the other around your neck, pushing your head into his chest. He's got you close to a wall so you can't get enough force to really kick him. You try kicking and pushing off the wall but he stays stead.

"That's it," he coos. "Get it out of your system so we can talk like mature adults and not a tantrum throwing brat."

"The second you let me go I'm biting your face off!"

"Then I guess I'm never letting you go," he chuckles. "But I don't think you mind being held like this."

You respond with a growl but it's only half-hearted. Your estimation of what he's hiding under his suit feels accurate now that you're pressed up against him. His arms are holding you so tight you can't break free. He's steady enough on his feet you can't even use leverage from the wall against him. If you'd met him in a different way you'd be incredibly turned on.

Not to say you aren't turned on now. Your body is betraying you; nipples hard, pussy wet. It's not fair! Why does he have to be everything you've been craving?

Slowly you're able to get yourself under control. Steve feels your body relax in his hold and he knows he should let go but part of him doesn't want to. Well, a few parts of him don't want to. Your body feels so good pressed against him. Your fiery nature is exactly the kick he's been craving. But he's not one to take a woman against her will and he needs to talk business with you so he slowly, warily loosens his hold.

"Shall we go to your office? Somewhere with a lot fewer sharp objects within arm's reach?" he suggests, only half joking.

You stomp in the direction of your office with a huff while Steve follows. You eye some of the sharper utensils, some of the repellents you can use instead of pepper spray but you know he's watching you. So far he's been able to thwart your every move. But your office is small enough his larger size could be a disadvantage. You'll wait for the right moment.

Once inside the office, you promptly sit down in your comfy chair, forcing Steve to sit on the much smaller one. To your frustration, he makes no indication as to being bothered by it.

"So, you wanna talk like adults?" you snip at him.

"Best way to do business, don't you think?" He smirks at you and it only grows when he sees the frustration written all over your face.

"Extortion isn't a business," you argue.

"And yet, here we are."

"I still don't see the point of this. There's nothing you could give me that I can't do on my own."

"We're keeping Rumlow's men from following you." Your eyes widen a bit at that. "My men caught some of his foot soldiers monitoring the place. Turns out, Rumlow didn't take to kindly to the goodbye message you left for him. Personally, i think the fertilizer dumped all over his car to hide the sugar in the gas tank wasn't a bad idea. Well timed on your part, too."

"Yeah, well, I doubt your men can actually handle his. I fought off three of them alone today!"

"That's because they're under strict orders to not hurt the residents. Not without permission from me, anyways. Rumlow's men they're more than happy to hurt."

"I still have my doubts. Especially about the price of the protection."

"Protection comes with many benefits," Steve assures. "Not just the pesticide pricing, either."

"Such as?"

"Actually getting customers." Steve grinned as you were unable to hide your frustration at his words. "People in our territory support each other. You're not supported by us? You're not supported by them."

"You bastard! I'm trying to run a business and you're charging me to even get a customer?!"

"I don't tell people where to do their shopping," he objects. "It's just that the people around here prefer to buy from others under our protection."

"This is such a scam!"

"And yet, you moved here because this territory is the safest, the nicest and best for business." You cross your arms and try not to make eye contact. You know he's right, but that doesn't mean you have to be happy about it.

"So how much are we talking?" He says the amount and you give him a confused look. "You mean per week or something, right?"

"Per month," he assures. "I might be making a profit, able to wear fancy suits, but that's because I'm good with money. Not because I try to squeeze blood from a stone."

"Well I still think I can get a better deal!" you insist, not believing yourself.

He raises an eyebrow, "do tell."

"Fine, I just want a better deal where I don't have to pay you a dime!"

He considers you for a minute, slowly licking his lips. "I suppose I might be open to alternative forms of payment."

"Perv!"

"Says the woman who's been eye-fucking me since I walked in. I bet you enjoyed being manhandled, being pinned against me." He leans forward so his elbows are on the desk. "I bet your wet at the thought of me using you like a whore."

"Do you offer 'such a deal' with all the business owners in your territory?" you sneer.

"Just the ones that attract me. So just you."

That gets your attention. "Must be a long time since you've gotten laid if you're going after me."

He shrugs. "It has been a while. But it's also been even longer since I met someone so interesting."

"You want to break me," you accuse.

Steve's face turns serious at that. "I admire that fire in you. I'll never try to snuff it out. I've been craving that kind of energy so I'm inclined to encourage it, not cut it off or use it up."

"And how do you know I'm not just getting you to lower your guard so I can stab you?"

"I don't. That's half the fun." He backs away from you and stands up. "But if you're not interested, you're not interested. You don't want the protection? You don't get the customers. Maybe some of Rumlow's men make it to you."

"You're not giving me a real choice, here!"

"Pay up, and you don't have to worry about any of that. Plus, other benefits. How you pay is up to you."

"I'd be better off just giving you money," you snipe. "You're probably a two-pump chump, anyways."

He considers you for a moment, not giving you the rage filled response you were hoping for. "Either way," he replies nonchalantly before turning to head out of your office.

"Get that gorgeous ass back here!" you shout as you get up from your chair. He turns back towards you and lets you pull his tie to bring his face down to your level. You want to bite, smack, kick, anything. Instead you kiss him again.

Again, he returns the kiss with fervor, pushing you back against your desk. Your on your back and he's pinned your hands against the desk. But instead of continuing like you want him to, he breaks the kiss, making you whine and try to kick.

"Use your words, Cherry Bomb," he growls. "I need to hear you say it, or else I'm walking out of here."

"Fuck me," you mutter under your breath.

"What was that?" he teases.

"Fuck me like you mean it!"

His lips return to yours and you melt into him. One of his feet pushes your legs apart and his hips meet yours. You start trying to grind against him, desperate for release after all of the teasing he's put you through. One of his hands is all he needs to keep your arms pinned above your head. His other hand goes for the buttons of your jeans. Without breaking the kiss he's got you unbuttoned. He pulls his hips away just enough to start pushing his hand under your panties.

He smiles when he feels how wet you are already. "I guess I was right about you."

"Don't flatter yours---" your snipe cut off by another kiss.

You start rolling your hips against his hand but he pulls it away. He breaks the kiss and shoves his fingers into your mouth.

"Suck my fingers," he orders. He's barely gotten the words out before your obeying. "Good girl."

When he's satisfied with your work he lifts you off the desk and lifts up your shirt and bra, exposing your breasts. You're then forced back onto your back and he alternates sucking and biting one nipple while his fingers play with the other one. If you thought his kisses were good, it's clear he knows how to use his tongue in other ways. He switches breasts and you start rolling your hips and moaning.

"Already so worked up," he teases. "And I've barely gotten started."

"Just get to the good stuff already," you gripe.

Steve stops and wraps one of his hands around your neck. "Does my little brat just need some good, hard dick? I was going to be nice and make sure you cum at least once, make it easier to take my cock. But now I'm not so sure."

Just like with your shirt, he pulls you up, pushes down your jeans and panties, and has you back on the desk before you've fully registered what happened.

He shoves two fingers inside your pussy and you squeal from the sensation.

"This pussy is so tight. I'm gonna enjoy wrecking you," he taunts.

"Big words," you spit back at him. "Bet you can't back them up."

"Well if you're going to continue being a brat, I'm going to have to treat you like one."

Steve pulls you up as he sits down on the little chair. He throws you across his lap and shoves the fingers that were in your pussy into your mouth.

"You're going to keep sucking on those fingers until I tell you to stop," he orders.

You're tempted to call his bluff but then his other hand comes down hard on your ass. Your eyes widen in pain and pleasure. Your tongue starts working his fingers as if possessed. He spanks you again and you moan around his fingers. He starts pushing his fingers further into your mouth before pulling back a little, then pushing in again. You keep your tongue moving, breathing through your nose. He brings his other hand down again and again, your moans getting louder.

You lose track of how many times he smacks your ass. You're no longer trying to fight him. All of your brain power is just focused on rolling your hips, whining around his fingers, begging him to give you what you need.

"Is my little Cherry Bomb ready to behave?" he coos, pulling his fingers out of your mouth.

"Please...Please fuck my pussy, Sir. Please, I need it!" you gasp.

He grips your chin and turns your face towards him. "How can I possibly say no to such a polite request?"

His hand goes from your chin to your throat as he stands you up and moves you back to the desk. He gets you on the desk and moves your legs so your ankles are up by his face.

He unzips and lets out a little sigh of relief. "Don't know how hard I've been this whole time, Cherry Bomb." He pulls his erection out of his pants and your eyes widen a little. "You've been working me up all this time and I've had to hold back." He starts rubbing his cock against your clit, making you whine. "All those pretty noises, that fiery attitude, that gorgeous body. A man can only take so much."

He picks up speed and you try to spread your legs a little more, giving him better access to your clit. Instead he grabs your legs and stops moving, making you let out a "no!"

"You will keep these legs where I put them," he orders. Your eyes flash in anger and frustration but you obey, making him grin. "Good girl."

He lines his erection up with your entrance and pushes into you. He wants to sheath himself in one quick thrust but he knows he can be a lot so he opts for a slower push. Besides, watching your facial expressions as you adjust to him, as you realize he's not all the way in yet, is so much fun. The noises you make as your body isn't sure if it should be feeling pleasure or pain are music to his ears. He could easily get addicted to you.

When he's fully inside you, he lets out a groan. Your pussy is clenching him like a vise and he doesn't want to cum so quickly. Definitely not before he's got you screaming his name in pleasure.

"You feel so good," he praises. He reaches his hand down to your pearl. "Let's get you creaming around my cock like a good slut."

He sets a rapid pace for playing with your clit as he slowly rolls his hips. The juxtaposition makes you want to squirm but remembering his orders about keeping your legs where he put them, you instead whimper. Frustration building as it feels like your orgasm wants to build but can't.

"What's the matter, beautiful?" he purrs.

"N-n-need more," you sniffle.

"More what?"

"M-more!"

"Use your words."

"Faster! More! Just fuck me like I need it, please!"

"I'm going to need you to tell me now, do you want me to cum inside you or pull out?" He hisses as he feels you clench around him at the thought of him cumming inside you.

"Inside! Please, Sir! Please!"

He chuckles darkly as he moves your legs so they're pushed against your chest. "I knew you were going to be good for me," he whispers with gentle kisses to your knees.

Steve pulls out of you and lines himself up again. This time he fulfills his desire and quickly thrusts himself fully inside of you, making you keen. He pistons into you at a furious pace and you find yourself writhing in pleasure.

"This pussy feels like heaven," he whispers hoarsely. "And you want me to fill you up like my own personal cum slut, don't you?"

"Y-yes!"

"Yes, what?" His hand moves between your bodies and finds your clit.

"Yes, Sir! Yes! I'm your personal cum slut!" you screech. "Please! Please fill me up, Sir!"

The pressure finally snaps and you feel like you're drowning in pleasure, unable to even tell which way is up. Your eyes roll back and you miss seeing Steve grimace as he tries to control his own orgasm while enjoying the way your pussy spasms around his erection. He praises you as you start coming down, but his pace doesn't slow.

"Give me another, beautiful," he orders.

"I-I can't!"

"I think you can," he argues. "You just need some more."

That's all the warning you get before he pulls out of you and flips you onto your stomach. He lifts your hips and impales you onto his cock. You cry out as the new position makes you feel, somehow, even more full than before. He wraps a hand around your throat and brings your torso up so you're pressed against him. He rolls his hips tentatively and you let out a gasp as he hits a particularly sensitive spot.

"Oh, you like that?" he teases, rolling his hips again, making you whimper. "My beautiful cum slut just needed the right motivation to cum again."

With that he picks up his pace, repeatedly brushing up against that same spot making you writhe in his arms, chanting "please, please, please".

"I'm going to cum inside you and mark this beautiful pussy as mine," he growls in your ear. "You're going to cum again, get those pussy juices all over these fancy clothes, and everyone will know your my slut."

Between his dirty, possessive words and hitting all the right spots, you come apart. You cry out as your orgasm hits you, tears pouring down your face. You feel Steve stiffen as he cums with a groan and push your hips back into him, wanting to catch every drop.

You collapse into Steve and he guides you so that he's holding you in your office chair. He gently pats your head, praising you, giving you small kisses. Your curl into his touch and he holds you tight for a few minutes.

"Should get you cleaned up," he whispers.

"Bathroom over there," you mumble, gesturing in the general direction of the unisex bathroom. Steve picks you up and carries you there, looking around to make sure the two of you were alone.

He gets you cleaned up, being very gentle with you.

"What else do you need, Cherry Bomb?"

"Can you hold me for a while more?"

"Gladly." He picks you up and carries you back to your office, helping you get dressed again, before returning to your chair for snuggles. You nuzzle against him and soon fall asleep.

While you slept, Steve texted to his people that the two of you had come to an agreement and you were to be considered paid up. There were going to be some long conversations with his men after this, he knew. But when he looked at you, he knew you'd be worth it. He leaned down and kissed your forehead, his smile growing when you gave a little happy murmur.

Tagging: @alicedopey; @darsynia; @delicatebarness; @icefrozendeadlyqueen; @irishhappiness; @jaqui-has-a-conspiracy-theory; @kmc1989; @lokislady82; @peaches1958; @ronearoundblindly; @thiquefunlover63

#mafia au #mafia bingo #mafia au bingo #mob boss!steve rogers #mob!steve rogers #mafia!steve rogers #mob boss!steve rogers x reader #mafia!steve rogers x reader #mob!steve rogers x f!reader #mafia!steve rogers x f!reader #mob!steve rogers x you #mafia!steve rogers x you #mob!steve rogers x female!reader #mafia!steve rogers x female!reader #steve rogers x you #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x f!reader #steve rogers x female!reader

187 notes · View notes

inkivaari · 3 months ago

Note

thragg who goes after mark's childhood best friend just to mess with him, but then he really wants that cookie after watching the reader fight the best men in his army, only for... improve the birth rate in viltrume

numnumnumnum! thragg isn't above this kind of thing. abducting mark's earth associates, it's par for the course. what he doesn't anticipate is you putting up such a fight. the nature of your powers were immaterial: the fact was, you had defied his men. and, to your credit, bested most of them before inevitably being knocked out. he watched the recording again and again and again, timestamped the best bits. a particularly skillful parry, a particularly brutal swipe, but his favourite part was how you struggled and writhed and cried when you were brought down. he'd blown his load to that several times over by now. thinking about dominating this little firecracker and using her clearly powerful genetics to bring forth as many heirs as your little body would sprout with. when he finally gets the time to see you, in captivity, looking more feral and rebellious than that footage would allow, his cock is immediately swelling. you make jabs at him, crude comparisons that humans always make about his apperance, his manner, whatever. it's all white noise. all he can think about is that mouth. he throbs when you get overly passionate and spit flies from it. how tempted he is, to swipe it from his cheek and feed it right back to you. you'd try to bite his fingers off... it would tickle. he doesn't even care how you protest, the curses and vile words you spit at him that eventually die away when he starts to stroke his thick, hard cock in front of you, your restrained position suspended from chains giving you nowhere else to look. it's mesmerising in the worst way possible... what kind of man would do this, to prove what exactly? you're so thrown off course, like being bucked from the back of a horse and hitting the dirt hard. he adores that look in your eyes, of confusion and disgust, this is how he'll break that spirit of yours down. over time, you'll forget what ever made you angry, and the sight of him deriving his pleasure from you will be your only constant. he could force himself on you now, keep you chained up here like a breeding machine, but he could do that with any female. you were not any female. he was willing to put the time in, to have you begging for his seed with your whole heart. from that wide eyed expression, he doubted it would take very long.

#thragg x reader #thragg x you #grand regent thragg #invincible #invincible smut #old man lust #starting to want to give this man my cookie

374 notes · View notes

wildtales1973 · 6 months ago

Text

“That's when I started to think that the wisest guy in Led Zeppelin was John Paul Jones. Why? He never got caught in an embarrassing situation. He would always show at the very last minute for anything. You'd never even know where he was staying. He drove himself, and was independent from the rest of the band. Peter and the band were always saying, 'Where the fuck is he?' It upset them that they couldn't manipulate him. He didn't give a damn. I would say that he was the most mischievous in the band. He was the kind of person who enjoyed mind games. He might say, 'Hmmm, Jimmy seems tense, wouldn't it be funny if someone threw a firecracker at him.' And of course John Bonham would then throw the firecrackers at Jimmy. I thought Jones was brilliant.”

“You wanted to be bright, intelligent and cultured with him. He was so smart, and could have been the most vicious and dangerous of all of them; he wasn't, but he could have been. He happened to be the act, but he could have run the record company as well.”

-Excerpts From Hammer of the Gods

#john paul jones #led zeppelin #this is a jonesy postjng day #jimmy page #hammer of the gods #john bonham

369 notes · View notes

eliciana · 3 months ago

Text

Reverse SAGAU: The Weird Door At My Café

Masterlist

Blog Navigation

Tw: Reverse!Isekai!Sagau, Normal Au, Café Au.

Reader: Gn!Reader, Adult!Reader, Cafe Owner!Reader

Characters: Reader, NPC's, Venti, Nahida

Note: Restaurant to Another World animanga inspired au. There is a taglist if you want to be tagged.

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

Mika, your part-time high school helper, scuttled between tables with three plates of lemon tarts perched precariously along her forearms while the bell above the café door sang its familiar chime. You watched from behind the counter, suppressing a grin behind your coffee-stained apron as she negotiated the crushed floor with all the finesse of a tightrope walker. Over the past two weeks, your once quiet café has changed into something alive, bursting now with the clash of silverware and the hiss of the espresso machine, as well as the warm hum of conversation hanging in the air even after closing time.

Mika had been a godsend. Quiet but sharp-eyed, she'd taken to the rhythm of service like she'd been born for it. Just this morning, she'd caught a customer's spilled latte mid-air without breaking stride.

"Table six needs their check," she murmured as she glided past you, now reaching for the dessert menus. "And the gentleman by the window asked if we could refill the lavender cold brew."

"You'll say yes to him, but only because he said something nice about Lena's macarons," I said as I jotted it down. "And by the way, slip him one of the test batches of her passion fruit ganache-discreetly."

Mika's lips quirked. "Bribery as a business strategy. Noted."

You looked at her smugly and giggled before signalling her to return to her work.

The kitchen doors groaned open and a billow of steam clouded with vanilla came pouring out as Lena carried her tray of perfect éclairs. Hands that moved like a composer-especially every motion being precise, and every garnish placed in intentional elegance-were the magic of this girl, former pâtissier to Le Ciel Blanc. The first time she brought to you a fraisier cake, more perfect than a photoshopped one, you almost kissed her.

"Taste," she demanded again, thrusting a spoonful of silky chocolate toward your face. "The new single-origin blend. Is the acidity too forward?"

You let the ganache melt on your tongue, thinking. "It's bright, but the hazelnut praline balances it. Joon's going to go crazy over this."

And that word summoned Joon to burst through the kitchen doors, his chef's jacket bathed with what seemed to be raspberry coulis. "We need to talk about the sourdough schedule," he announced, waving a clipboard. "The starter's doubling faster since I moved it near the oven. If we adjust proofing times-"

You raised a hand. "Breathe, firecracker."

Joon had reconstructed your entire kitchen within forty-eight hours of being hired. Freshly graduated from culinary school, he had enough raw talent without much common sense. When you had asked him why he chose your café over the Michelin-starred establishments that fought over him, he just grinned and said, "Because you talked to your sourdough starter like it was your emotional support animal. I knew this was where all the real magic happened."

Now, with the three of them settling into their roles, you finally had time to breathe.

Which meant that now you could bring your attention back to that door.

Mika hummed as she mopped the café now quiet without the last customer present. The sound blended well with the jazz record you'd left spinning on the old turntable.

"Are you sure you wouldn't want me to help close up?" she quipped, hanging up her apron with military precision.

You shook your head. "Go study for your chem test. And take these." You shoved a box of leftover madeleines into her backpack.

Mika simply rolled her eyes. "You're worse than my abuela. See you tomorrow, boss."

At that moment she slammed the door behind her, and the air in the café shifted—like the space between heartbeats. You turned slowly.

There, nestled between flour sacks where it had no right to be, was the door.

Ordinary in every way except how it wasn't. The wood grain shimmered if you stared too long, and sometimes—when the café was empty and the moon was high—you swore you heard singing from the other side.

You exhaled, rolling up your sleeves.

Okay. It is time for another experiment.

Experiment #1: The Witness Test

Mrs. Khatri, your regular patron most patient, was sipping her masala chai with polite curiosity while pretending you are reorganizing the storage shelves. You had been brewing tea, talking about her granddaughter's ballet recital, and keeping an eye on the door for two hours.

"Are you expecting any delivery?" she asked as you turned to the door for the seventeenth time.

You nearly spilled a jar of cinnamon. "Just... waiting on a specialty tea order."

The door looks like it doesn't want to open; it didn't want to have a single crease somewhere in it.

The moment Mrs. Khatri cleared out with her parting "The cardamom was perfect today, dear," did the brass knob warm up under your fingertips as a sleeping creature that stirs under the absence of its owner.

So. No witnesses. Copy that.

–

Experiment #7: Teyvat's Objects on Earth

The Mora gleamed innocently on your ledger, its golden surface catching the warm lighting of the café. You learned quickly that not all could survive from the other side and continue living in this world, though.

Mist Flowers disintegrated into puddles of sad water. Valberries wilted overnight. But the Mora—the Mora was different.

The jeweler's loupe did tremble in his hand when you brought it to him: "This shouldn't exist," he'd whispered, turning it around. "This metallurgy is impossible—this purity of gold with this level of detail? And the markings..." His eyes snapped to yours. "Where did you really get this from?"

You'd lied smoothly. "A family heirloom." Wow, you really know how to lie between your teeth, huh?

Still, his offer of $2,300 made your palms sweat.

Note: If Paimon ever finds out I'm sitting on a goldmine, I'm dead.

–

You were making some notes when the freaking door opened on its own.

Your pen froze mid-word.

Wind rushed in, not that stale city air you knew, but something wild and green, smelling of dandelions and distant thunderstorms. And then Venti tumbled through, catching himself hard against the counter.

He wasn't drunk, which was shocking.

The second was the blood matting his hair, the way his fingers trembled around his lyre like it was the only thing tethering him to this world.

"You," he hissed, teal eyes flashing with something ancient and dangerous. "What game are you playing?"

You raised your hands slowly. "No game. This is just my café."

His gaze darted around-the industrial espresso machine, the chalkboard menu, and the glass case displaying Lena's pastries. His nose wrinkled. "It smells like... burned sugar and regret."

"Caramel and ambition," you corrected, then winced. "And you're bleeding on my mahogany." You nudged the first-aid kit toward him.

"Who sent you?" Venti didn't move.

"No one." You kept your voice steady. "That door sometimes connects to other worlds. You're the second to come through."

"Second?" His grip on the lyre tightened.

"The Traveler and Paimon."

Something in his posture eased-just a fraction. "Hah. Should've known those two would find the universe's backdoor."

The antiseptic stung your own hands as you dabbed at his temple. Venti flinched but didn't pull away, his breath warm against your wrist.

"Stormterror?" you guessed.

His laugh was brittle. "Among other things." A pause. "You know much for a... what are you, exactly?"

"Café owner." You pressed the bandage gently. "Part-time interdimensional tour guide."

Venti snorted, then winced. You slid a mug of cocoa toward him-no alcohol this time. He sniffed it like a suspicious cat before taking a cautious sip. His eyebrows shot up. "Oh. That's... not terrible."

"It grows on you," you said. "Like moss."

"Or a fungal infection," he shot back, but the edge in his voice had dulled.

Outside, rain tapped against the windows like impatient fingers. Venti's hands strayed to his lyre, plucking a melody that made your chest ache-something older than nations, older than gods.

You pretended not to notice when his playing faltered.

By the third cocoa refill, Venti had migrated from "hostile intruder" to "annoying housecat," draped across your best booth with his boots on the upholstery.

"Sooo," he drawled, spinning his empty mug. "This 'café' of yours. You just... feed interdimensional travelers?"

"Mostly locals," you said, scrubbing an already-clean counter. "You're a special case."

"Aw, I'm touched!" He grinned, but his eyes stayed wary. "And what do you get out of it?"

You shrugged. "Good company."

Venti's smile faltered. For a heartbeat, he looked lost-then he strummed a chord sharp enough to make your glassware vibrate. "Liar."

You froze.

"Everyone wants something," he murmured, "the Traveler wants to find their sibling." He looked at the archons through narrowed eyes. "Whatever gods seek." His eyes pinned you. "What do you seek?"

The truth clawed at your throat - I just didn't want to be alone - but you swallowed it down. "A five-star Yelp review?"

Venti blinked. Then he laughed, genuine this time, the sound bright as sunlight through stained glass. "Fair enough. Though, what is a Yelp review?"

Soon enough he left.

You looked at the door blankly and took out a ledger.

"I'll put that on his tab." You scoffed. The first mug of cocoa you slid to him was just a welcome gift and free, not including his constant refilling.

Three days later, you nearly dropped the tray of éclairs when walking into the pre-dawn quiet café to find Nahida perched on a barstool and swinging her legs.

"Oh!" She brightened, hopping down. "You're the door's keeper!"

You choked on air. "How-"

"The door told me," she said now, as if there were nothing extraordinary about it. At your shocked silence, she tilted her head, "Not in words, of course. More like... a feeling." Her tiny hands cupped the Cecilia flower Venti had left behind, its petals glowing faintly under her touch. "This remembers you."

"Remembers?" you echoed weakly.

Nahida hummed, those eyes of hers far too knowing for someone who looked like a child. "Memories stick to objects, places, even people." She leaned forward, whisper-soft. "Some of yours smell like us."

Your blood turned to ice.

But Nahida just smiled, sliding off the stool. "Don't worry. I'm just not going to pry." She pressed a crisp recipe card into your hands, Moon Pie, the words flowing with calligraphy. "For when you're ready."

Then she was gone, the door clicking behind her.

The Cecilia pulsed once, twice,

and burst into full bloom.

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

Sorry bout the constant "-" throughout the story. Was kinda having a hard time transitioning but like yes. We ignore that hahahhaha....

Taglist:

@kameyo-kumo @esthelily @haru-tofuu @udretlnea @shining-nebula2000 @ifeellikejumpingoffacliff @resident-cryptid @allblognamesaretakenlikereally @leilakaro @stvrbrighttt @chericia @evaline-ethan @ra404 @mmmhyperfixation @original-person @chaoticfivesworld @lexal-amber-rose @floofeh-purpi @time-shardz @animeobsessed56 @fantasyhopperhea @yuan1819

#genshin impact #genshin impact sagau #sagau #genshin sagau #genshin impct reverse sagau #genshin reverse sagau #genshin reverse isekai #cafe owner! reader au #gender neautral reader #gn! reader #genshin nahida #genshin venti #genshin impact nahida #genshin impact venti #genshin impact x reader #sagau x reader #•works[🍡]•

171 notes · View notes