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sweet-as-an-angel · 11 months

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Zombie! König NSFW Headcanons

Warnings: 18+, Smut, Dub-Con/Non-Con, Mentions of Breeding, Implied Forced Pregnancy/Eggnancy, Stomach Bulging, Restraining, Unprotected Sex, Monster Fucking, Zombie Fucking, Implied Yandere König, Possessive König, Jealous König, Zombie! König, Human! Reader, Zombie Anatomy, No Pronouns Used For Reader Except You.

Your current condition, that being thoroughly incapacitated, used and spent, had been the result of König’s jealousy, his possession of you.

All it took was for him to see you speaking with another survivor – one which had materialised out of nowhere – a little too enthusiastically.

Not that anyone could blame you; he was the first living person you’d seen in months, and you to him, too.

Until König showed up. Lumbering and mammoth and disease-ridden, he rocked up to you on creaking bones and stiffened joints, his deathly condition apparent in every facet of his being, from his gait to the stale blood staining his tactical gear.

The other survivor took one look at him and didn’t even hesitate before he all but took flight, bolting in the opposite direction.

You weren’t a fool. You knew König had done it on purpose.

He may be undead, but he was smart. Too smart.

Later that evening, you didn’t even look at König, instead bundling up in your room within the decrepit confines of your hideout while König ruminated.

If he could, he was sure his heart would squeeze, his throat would constrict at the prospect of upsetting you.

But, either because of his decaying state or something more carnal clouding his remorse.

The thought of that man, just some guy, touching you…

König’s eye twitched. His teeth gritted together, grinding.

The longer he stewed in the what-ifs – what if he hadn’t been there to frighten off his competition, what if that survivor had had his way with you – the less human he felt. The stronger the parasite’s instincts became, a chanting, goading, incipient voice that urged him to succumb to his feral ways.

Despite his stature, König was deceptively quiet. As much was apparent when you turned, your anger making it impossible to get comfortable, only to see König stood over you, watching you, your bedroom door swung open.

König gave you little time to process his arrival, to process that his appearance was not the extension of an olive branch – an apology – but a siege on your defences.

It wasn’t hard for König to pin you down, both with his weight and his strength as his hands kept your wrists welded to the mattress.

He snarled, his veil doing nothing to muffle the carnality in his tone, the voice of the parasite urging him to act. Now.

You tried to fight him off. Tried to call his name – the one you’d both settled on when you first met — tried to reason with the small part of him that was still human.

Little did you know that he, the last remaining thread which tethered König to the Living, was responsible for this.

You see, König is not the sharing type. A lesson you learned too late, it would seem.

The reason why König was bearing down on you now, trying not to rock his hips against yours as he collared your wrists together beneath his palm and fumbled with stiffened fingers for the zipper of his trousers was rooted solely in envy.

And now, freed of his pants, König’s cock stood stiff against his stomach. His hand, free now, gripped your jeans by the hem. Tore them off. A button pinged into a corner. You yelped.

Despite having dreamt of this moment for almost the entirety of your travels together, nothing in König’s dying mind could have prepared him for the rush he felt as you writhed, tried not to enable him with your whines when his drooling tip caught you.

König stuffed you full of him, and a sword of ice penetrated you, filled you.

You gasped, your back arching and your mouth dropping open as you struggled to take both his size and his piercing, freezing, bulbous cock.

You felt it twitch inside you. Pulse. And the only thought that crossed your mind was that something of a parasitic nature must be crawling through his veins, trying to get to you. Get into you.

Of course, that was not the case. König ever would have acted on his instincts if he’d known you were at risk of leading an almost-eternity of rot like him. He cared that much for you, at least.

Even if he had perceived your talking to that other lone survivor earlier as an act of disloyalty.

Deep down, he knows it wasn’t. You and König weren’t even dating, so how could it be?

Zombie instincts. And König’s naturally domineering, possessive nature. That’s how it could be.

König had to hold back the feeling, the need, to pump you full of his cum right then and there as he saw a long, thick bump form in your middle.

Him.

König growled. You whimpered. Something cold, viscous, tricked into you.

The avantmath of König’s excitement.

König’s eyes, though mulled over with a haze that suggested vacancy, were still an ice blue. Watching and heavy.

As was his cock halfway mounted inside you. It almost pinned you to the mattress itself with just how much of it there was, no doubt enlarged some by the parasite, the disease. Which, if the rest of König was to go by, wasn’t the only thing it engorged.

König’s frame possessed muscularity you didn’t even think possible on a man, his arms bulging, larger than your head, his thighs almost bursting from his pants as he bent over your figure, his trousers pulled taut over his muscles, just below his hips.

You stifled a sob, the air knocked out of you, as König began to move. Slowly, at first, the notion of intimacy having become a lost skill to him.

As he grew used to the motion of withdrawing and plunging back in, he grew faster. Harsher.

He could see from the furrow in your brow, the gritting of your teeth, the clenching of your jaw, that taking him was painful. Un-customary for your…relationship.

And though his chest would have panged with the knowledge that he, of everyone in the wasteland, was the one hurting you, his body was no longer privy to such reactions.

Instead, he pressed his hips to yours, tried manoeuvring you so that he could take you from a deeper angle, and slid further.

He bit back a grunt, his grip about your wrists tightening. You let out a yelp, these new inches of not only length but girth almost splitting you open. At least, that’s how it felt.

König built to and kept his feral pace, fucking you like an animal, giving you little time to breathe and him little time to think about what he was doing.

All he thought about was making you his. About making sure everything, living and otherwise, who came upon you in the wasteland would know you belonged to him.

Though, with what he was planning on doing to you, he knew you wouldn’t be going outside again.

Against your mind’s judgement, your body wanted König. That much was clear in the way you ceased fighting him off, instead trying to push into him, trying to take him deeper.

Your actions were not lost on König. But, given how his face was clouded not only with his veil, but with his lust, you wouldn’t have been surprised if they were.

Eventually, König’s weight and speed proved to be too much.

You cried out, as if for the only other survivor in the city to hear you, to save you.

König released a growl, a howl, as his cold, congealed, thickened cum pumped into you.

You could feel it, like water through a hose. Could feel König’s veins twitching, feel yourself getting full from his load.

Against your better judgement, you wrapped your legs about König’s torso, as if to stop even an ounce of his semen from escaping.

You didn’t have to look down to know that your stomach was filling up like a balloon – that König had completely and utterly made you his from the inside out.

You couldn’t see the way König’s jaw hung open, couldn’t feel the way his fantasy made his body lock up with electric anticipation.

Not that you knew this, but König knew the infection — the parasite — was evolving.

Once it fully matured, it would give König an opportunity he wouldn’t perceive as golden — gold dust — until he met you.

The ability to lay eggs in a host.

Granted, the idea was not to spread the infection in the living host but to enable the birth of more parasites. But for König, it worked all the same.

And, as he looked down at you, taking his load so easily now, he knew this was not just a possibility, but a reality.

You would start a new life. Together. Him as your protector, your sword and your shield, and you his perfect little incubator, swollen with your shared offspring.

It wouldn’t be long until you’d be begging to bear his offspring. And it wouldn’t be long until he could grant your wish.

Reblog for more content like this! It helps creators like myself tremendously and it is greatly appreciated :-)

Masterlist Masterlist [Continued] Masterpost Modern Warfare AI Masterlist

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textmel8r · 2 months

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[ DRABBLE ] 𝐎𝐅𝐅𝐈𝐂𝐄 𝐇𝐎𝐔𝐑𝐒 ! ( tenth installment ) in which you are forced to plan a corporate event with your office enemy .

୨୧˚ part; one. two. three. four. five. six. seven. eight. nine. ten. eleven.

୨୧˚ incl; kento nanami

୨୧˚ cw; profanity , smuttish , pure unadulterated fluff

୨୧˚ an; thank you all for the patience 😭😭 so sorry i’ve been busy getting back into uni shit but omg!!! slowburn is peaking!!! also the tag list is officially closed because i have reached the max # of tags!!!

୨୧˚ join my discord server ! we share headcanons, fanfic recs, color roles, and more drooling emoji

Nanami’s morning routine doesn’t deviate from the norm. An alarm clock was built into his genetic code, and he rouses at half past six in the morning. Unfurling his long limbs from the confines of the couch—the suede thing was big, but Nanami was bigger. Joints popped under sheets of muscle and flesh when he gave a hearty stretch, and with that, he was ready to start his Sunday.

Fueled purely on motor memory, he filters through each step of the habitual customs he’s grown to associate with mornings. You’re still sleeping soundly in his bed, and the risk of waking you condemns Nanami to his downstairs bathroom rather than the personal en suite tailing off his bedroom. It doesn’t pose much of an inconvenience; Nanami was nothing if not prepared. The slender closet in his downstairs bathroom housed spare toiletries—handkerchiefs, tooth brushes, soaps and oils.

He brushes his teeth first, watching his reflection with tired eyes. Minty foam froths at the corners of his lips. Nanami collects the mess with his tongue before spitting into the porcelain bowl of the sink. He’s thorough, scrubbing every corner of his mouth, followed by a pass through with charcoal infused floss. Next, the man is dabbing a button of facial cleanser onto a small square of towel, wetting it under the faucet. Scouring his cheeks, then forehead, then nose. His hair is mussed from tossing in his sleep, and if not for the guest upstairs, Nanami would probably leave it as is. But you’re his guest, and for some reason that means something to him, so he slicks back the blonde frizz with wet hands.

Another staple of Nanami’s morning routine: a good cup of coffee. The machine was expensive—Nanami tends to splurge when it comes to matters that mean most to him. He doesn’t mind spending a little extra on his suit wear, his beloved watches, and certainly not his coffee. Crafted from titanium and stainless steel, it sat heavily on the black marble countertop and whirred quietly as it compressed beans into the filter.

Ingredients line the island at the center of his extravagant kitchen. Weekends were the only days in which Nanami had enough time to cook breakfast for himself, rather than grabbing a bagel or danish from the convenience store on his way to the office. It was a shame, really, because he enjoyed the gratification of cooking his own meals. And not to toot his own horn, but he was rather proud of his skills.

He never cooks for two, though.

Nanami peruses the ingredient assembly line, looking from the organic eggs, to the all purpose flour, to the carton of mixed berries. It would be rude of him not to consider your palate. Did you prefer a savory breakfast? Or perhaps you’d rather have something on the sweeter side like pancakes? He nibbled his lower lip in thought.

A divine aroma saturates the entirety of downstairs. Nanami focuses on folding a second omellette, tucking the concoction of whipped egg, chopped bell peppers, caramelized onions, diced tomatoes, and grated sharp cheddar on itself with the delicacy of a surgeon. He’s knee deep in concentration, back turned towards his staircase so your presence goes entirely unnoticed.

Hands clap together somewhere over his shoulder. He jerks with a startled gasp, the fork in his hand clattering to vinyl tiles. Nanami presses a palm to his racing chest, twisting to find your hands just inches away from his ear. What a little shit, you are. He doesn’t waste effort trying to stifle his grimace. “Was that necessary?”

You’re crouched down, retrieving the silverware off the floor. “Now we’re even.”

“Even?”

“Yeah,” you hand him the fork, to which he blinks at the useless thing. It’s been dirtied by the floor, so Nanami instructs you to toss it in the sink and grab another from the utensil drawer at the end of his pointed finger. As you play fetch, you explain. “Do you know how scared shitless I was waking up in a strange bedroom? In strange clothes?” He’s watching you toy aimlessly with the abundance of extra material bunched up around the trussed waistband of your—his—sweatpants. Nanami’s clothes cloak you more than enough; cotton t-shirt hanging just below mid-thigh, and those damned oversized sweats rolled up in stupidly big cuffs at the ankles stopping over your socked feet. You must’ve adjusted them accordingly when you stepped out of bed. Something akin to apprehension pulled at your face. “We didn’t…”

Blonde brows scrunch as he attempts to decipher your blathering. When you beckon a hand between your chest and his, Nanami abruptly chokes on his saliva. “Are you out of your mind?” He’s quick to sputter, spinning back to face the sizzling pans and contain the tickle in his throat. A white bowl and whisk are gathered into strong arms—homemade blueberry pancake batter sloshes against the wiry bristles of Nanami’s whisk. He pours three more precise circles of batter onto the second frying pan, and the sweet paste fizzles against nonstick cookware. “You were intoxicated, Y/n. Couldn’t even remember your own address.” He paused. “A change of clothes seemed ideal in the moment. Something cozier.”

You hum in acknowledgement. Footsteps pad closer, and you appear beside him, resting your back against the counter. Your head lolls, cheek falling against your shoulder. He can feel your eyes gouging into the side of his face while he flips the pancake triplets. “You changed me?”

There’s a foreign tonality bleeding into your words, something almost playful, and he’s vexed. Are you teasing him? A trimmed thumb nail burrows into the silicone grip of a spatula. Or is that genuine curiosity? “I did,” Nanami gives you honesty, licking his lip as he does so. On it, he tastes a vague note of spearmint. “You needed some help.”

“God,” you touch a hand to your forehead and laugh, “that does sound like me.” There is no perturbation or embarrassment there, only relief, and he thanks God for your uncanny ability to bypass awkwardness in situations such as these. Had the roles been reversed and it was Nanami receiving word that a coworker of the opposite sex had dressed him in a period of inebriation, well, he’d probably send in a letter of resignation to the company the next day. “Sorry for being so difficult for you.”

He wags his head, dismissing the remorse. “Please, your apologies are far from necessary.”

“Oh I think they’re completely neces—”

“Aht.” A spatula stabs through the air stopping a few inches shy of your nose. There’s a sharpness that eclipses sepia eyes behind the crystalline shield of Nanami’s wire-framed glasses; a barbed glance that telepathically urges you to drop the argument before it begins. With that same spatula, he dives below fluffy circles of speckled cake and transports them from pan to plates, divvying up the pancakes into two even portions. “You took the medication I left for you, yes? They were beside the glass of water on the side table.”

“Yeah, thanks. I’m feelin’ better already.”

“Good,” he nods with a subtle, tight-lipped grin. “That’s good. Though you should probably get some food down. Fill your stomach with something other than tylenol.” Nanami stops his ministrations, satisfied with the presentation of both plates of breakfast, and pitches you a simple question. “Coffee?”

You practically moan, “coffee sounds really fucking amazing right now.”

Coffee it is then. Nanami proposes that you go settle yourself in a seat, and that he’d handle the rest. Forfeiting another argument, you buckle and slip into a high stool at the breakfast bar that is associated along the island in the midst of the kitchen. Two twin mugs are poached from the highest shelf, crafted of gray ceramic with uneven, white polka dots. He owned a whole dining set donning those same frivolous dots; Nanami always had an absurd fascination with peculiar patterns, they were charming to the man. Perhaps his collection of ugly things were meaningful because of how violently they contrasted to his otherwise ordinary life. In both mugs, scalding coffee brimmed and emanated laces of smoke slithering up to the ceiling. Nanami didn’t bother asking you how you took your coffee—he just knew. Knew from stealing glances at you over the past year, watching you concoct a disastrous potion of lukewarm coffee poured from the communal pot that you so desperately despised, skim milk from the carton in the office floor’s minifridge, and a concerning amount of sugar packets that made him feel inclined to alert your doctor. Nanami does his best to match the ratio of coffee to milk to sugar, gives it a stir, and hopes it’s up to your eccentric taste buds.

He sets your plate and mug down, sliding it across the counter’s surface to sit before you. Nanami chooses to stand where he is, leaning against the opposite end of the island. His foot, clad in a thick, black sock, taps quietly against the floor. “I wasn’t aware of your preferences so—”

“So you made…” You go quiet, prodding at the unusual combination of food on your plate: a vegetable-ridden omelette on one side and a few blueberry-encrusted flapjacks glazed in a modest squirt of maple syrup on the other. You hate it, he thinks shortly, but then a smile splits on your lips and Nanami fears he may have jumped the gun. “Eggs and pancakes?”

“You do like eggs and pancakes, don’t you?”

“Yes sir,” you respond, enthused. “It’s perfect.”

Nanami cringes. “I’d like it if you didn’t call me that outside of the workplace.”

“What? Sir?”

He hums. “Formalities remind me of work; I don’t like to think about work when I’m eating my breakfast.” He punctuates the request with a sip from his mug. Black, unsweetened coffee scathes his tongue with powerful calidity, but he’s well acquainted with its heat by now, and doesn’t wince.

“I’ll just stick to Nanami, then.”

“Actually, I—” Was it even worth mentioning? That he’d handed you the rights to use his first name last night? The tiny, bothersome devil on Nanami’s shoulder was whispering yes. “Kento will do.”

True, unadulterated glee beamed from your person, wafting a certain warmth across the counter to smack him in the face. “Holy shit, yeah that’s right! I remember now!” Using your fork as an arrow to point at the man, “last night, you told me that. You said I can call you Kennnn-Tooooo—”

“Okay, alright.” He’s jaded by your antics, swatting his hand in the air lazily. It’s too early in the morning to get serenaded by his own name. “Say it normally, or don’t say it at all.”

“Sorry, sorry. It’s just so crazy to think that we’re on a first name basis now, y’know?” You ask before shoveling a forkful of pancake into your mouth, sighing blissfully at the taste. Gratefulness oozed into your gestures, materializing in the way you simpered up at him following each and every bite. Smiles so broad that Nanami wondered if they were out of politeness or if you really just enjoyed his cooking that much.

He can cheers to your observation. “If you would’ve told me five months ago that you’d be sitting across from me in my home—sharing breakfast with me, no less—I would have…” Laughed in your face? Had a conniption? A combination of the two? Nanami trails off into thought, shaking his head. “I don’t know what I’d have done.”

So hellbent on sticking to his judgment, Nanami rarely changed his mind about people post first impressions. First impressions were something he valued, both in himself and in others. A snap perception is made based upon the first bits of information he collects from a person, and it wasn’t a stretch of the imagination to say that your initial communication was less than stellar. Since then, Nanami’s one-track mind had pinned associations onto you like a bulletin board, assigning your name with attributes like sleazy and trashy and (God, he felt the worst about this one) slutty. This entire time, it was Nanami’s stubbornness and penchant to be right that shielded him from the realization that you were none of those cancerous aspersions.

You are you.

You are a diligent worker. You are never on time. Your favorite color is (f/c). You are easy to talk to, easy to approach. You like pistachio cheesecake and criminally sweet coffee. You are insecure about your presentation skills, though Nanami can’t understand why. You are determined. You are rarely shy about asking for something you need, a quality he appreciates in someone. You make him laugh. You can’t hold your liquor. With the way you’re drooling over your plate like a hungry puppy, it’s apparent that you like his cooking. And he likes you.

He… what?

“Yeah, well,” you tilt your head, and the melodic chuckle that follows is enough to yank Nanami from his dazedness. Lifting your mug, you push it towards him in a sort of gesture. “Good thing the past doesn’t matter, huh? We were both lame in the past, but look at us now.” You retract the mug to your lips, taking a swig. “Future us is awesome. Are awesome? Is?”

You mumble to yourself, befuddled by grammar. Meanwhile, Nanami brews in thought. Your undying fearlessness of what’s to come in life always rendered him bewildered.

“I’m jealous,” he admits, idly tracing the rim of his cup with his thumb.

You perk up. “Of?”

“Your ability to embrace the future. It’s brave.”

“I think you’re giving me too much credit,” you sweatdrop, itching your cheek. “I wouldn’t call it bravery. Maybe security? I’m—yeah, I’m secure with the route I’ve taken in life.”

“You’re secure with white collar work?”

“I can’t see myself in any other profession,” you smile, flicking him a brow. “What about you?”

Honesty permitted, Nanami would describe his job as the bane of his misery. There used to be a point in his life in which he was sure that this was his ultimate goal: a senior executive position with an esteemed, high-profile company. Younger Nanami was content to endure years of early mornings and late nights with busy schedules jammed in between because it’d all be worth it when he finally tastes that sweet senior title. Except, now he’s tasted it. He’s licked it dry, and despite that, that feeling of fulfillment Nanami had been vying for his whole career remains frustratingly dormant. The notion that this will be his routine until retirement kills him.

He chews thoughtfully on a sliver of pancake before responding. “We touched on this a little over text.”

“You want to travel.”

You remembered. He hums. “I do.”

“And you want a family.”

“I do,” Nanami sighs longingly.

You don’t make an effort to stifle a chuckle at his supposed foolishness. Shaking your head and cutting your eggs with the blunt side of a fork; “You talk about these things as if it’s all some sort of cushiony pipe dream. It’s really fucking hilarious all things considered.”

“All things considered?” Perplexed, Nanami pries for an expansion.

And with all the seriousness in the world, you begin to count on your digits. “You are probably the most charming, most intelligent, most wealthy—”

“Y/n,” Nanami yawps at your conviction. When you jest, you do it in such an obvious way. He’s come to familiarize himself with the clever quirk of your mouth’s corner, or that playfully irritating glint in your smile-squinted eyes. But now, Nanami can’t find any evidence of joking in your stoney expression. You’re sincere when you say these things about him. It makes his heart pound so viciously that it vibrates his ear drums.

“Most hard-working man I’ve ever met.” Unfazed by his apparent flusteredness, you finish with a nonchalant shrug. “Just funny, is all, that you of all people are stressing over these things when you have the ingredients to make your ambitions a reality.”

“Your compliments are… thanked…” The blonde ducks his head in an awkward, halfhearted bow, “but I can’t ever hope to truly begin my life when I don’t have the time granted to do so.” Nanami touches an index and middle finger to his temple, rubbing in soothing circles. It doesn’t do much to quell the oncoming migraine that this nightmarish topic never fails to cast upon him. “I’ve tried. Believe me when I say that I have worked my ass off trying to balance my job alongside nurturing a relationship. But I’ve come to realize how unfair of me that is—to ask a woman to bear with my neglect because I got held up at the office for the fifth night in a row. A relationship isn’t much of a relationship at all if both people still feel lonely.”

Unbeknownst to him, his tone had slipped away for a moment. He became bitter, recalling the lineup of failures that made up his dating history. Bitter and lonely. It’s been almost two years now that Nanami has abandoned the dating scene, if not for his sake than for the sake of his next girlfriend. Though, he can’t help but have moments of tenderness in which he thinks that maybe all of his occupational achievements would have been more gratifying if he had someone to share them with.

He clears his throat, lowering his voice back down when he apologizes for getting emotional.

“Don’t say sorry.” You offer a reassuring grin. “I’m sorry for assuming shit about your life. That was uncool of me.”

“Don’t say sorry,” Nanami parrots, returning your grin with a sheepish one of his own, and tilts his head toward his shoulder. “I didn’t exactly mind the compliments.”

“Conceited bastard.”

He hides his simper well behind his mug. “I’d still like to know what makes you happy, if that offer is still on the table.”

“Why’s that?”

“I just would like to.” Nanami licks his lower lip, eyes grazing yours. “Do I need a more convoluted reason than that?”

Your face reads like a book. It tells him don’t be a smartass, so he yields to your unimpressed frown. “You’re not gonna like my answer. Working makes me happy.”

The revelation doesn’t shock him. “You are demonstrably proficient, Y/n. In my professional opinion, I have no doubts that you’ll be successful.” Nanami does his best to mirror your sincerity.

“More successful than you?” You tease.

“Oh forget me, I give it five years before you’re replacing Gakuganji,” he laughs gently before pressing a finger to his lips, mimicking secrecy. “Let’s keep that between us, though.”

“The day you take orders from me is the day I can die happy.”

I wouldn’t mind that day.

“But to be honest, I think it cuts deeper than the success aspects. Ah, It’s kinda hard to put it into words…” You take a moment to string together an explanation while Nanami waits patiently. “I’m sort of a mess in my personal life. I fuck a lot of things up, I make bad judgement calls, I can get a little lazy sometimes—I just do shit wrong. Or at least, that’s what I feel like.”

Nanami hangs on every word.

“So, like, to come to work everyday and be organized and–and put on this presentation of competency,” your tongue clicks sweetly, “I need that. I need people to see me that way—I think that’s why it affected me so much when you… when you saw me…”

“At the party?” He clarifies.

You purr in agreement. “Yeah. That. I felt like, I don't know, like I shattered my whole ‘persona’ and you saw me. You really saw me.”

He can’t look away from you. The way you’re visibly shrinking, collapsing in on yourself like a wounded animal. Constricting your own torso with your arms in a self-soothing hug. Are you ashamed?

When Nanami finally speaks, he keeps his voice calm. Soft and cottony. “Do you always have such degrading thoughts about yourself?”

“I wouldn’t call it degradation…”

“I would.” Brows furrow, and he leans further into the conversation with his elbows on the island’s surface. “You talk about yourself as if you’re two separate people.”

“Don’t you see it, too?” You ask him gravely, as though you’re hinging on Nanami’s opinion. Like his insubstantial assessment of you is the only thing that matters. “You won’t offend me, I swear.”

Unperturbed, he blinks. “Not at all.”

“Then you’re fucking blind,” you cluck. “Those glasses aren’t doing much for you.”

Nanami nips the inner seam of his cheek, unamused. Right now, he isn’t much in the mood for jokes. Not when he now understands the extent of the disdain that you have for yourself. It irks him that you can’t see how rare of a person you are.

“My eyesight has no relevance, stop deflecting with humor.” “I’m not deflecting!”

“Yes, you are. Now please, stop and let me talk for a moment,” Nanami shows you his palm, and you find your silence. “You are not two people, Y/n, you’re just one. Just you. Sure, you have your quirks and flaws—as does everyone else—but they are what makes you you. They make you nice to be around.”

“You think I’m nice to be around?”

“We meet nearly every weekend now, have you been under the impression that I hated your presence?”

“It’s hard to tell with you sometimes. I assumed you were still hanging out with me because you felt like you owed me. Which you totally did, by the way.” You purse your lip together, stiff. “But, um, your debt has long been paid, especially with this delicious breakfast. So… y’know, if you don’t want to go out, you can just tell me.”

A breathy, humorous exhale huffs through Nanami’s nostrils. “I am a grown man. If I don’t want to do something, then I won’t do it. This,” he gestures between himself then you, “isn’t occurring out of pity or some strange form of charity. You’re here right now because I want you to be, okay?”

That little declaration pulls a coy smile from you, something Nanami introspectively overthinks. He tells himself that you’re blushing, just barely noticeable past your complexion. “Okay.” You whisper, the apples of your cheeks more pronounced than he’s ever seen them before.

Baring witness to a skittish Y/n was not on the docket for Nanami’s Sunday. He’s aware that this little discussion should stop. It was enroute to breaching something—something intimate and foreign and never to be acknowledged between you both. Unspoken chemistry that Nanami intended to let shrivel up and rot within his core because he doesn’t have the strength to snuff out the beacon of light you’ve shown in his life when he inevitably ruins yet another relationship.

But…

“I’ve had more fun in the past month than in my twenty-seven years of life. With you, I mean. So please don’t shun the side of you that exists outside of the office, because you have this spark that I haven’t seen in any of my associates in a long time. I’m… I would be upset if you let yourself turn into another copy-and-paste corporate zombie.”

There is an obvious shift in the kitchen air. It’s blossomed deep and heavy; Nanami feels like it’s become a struggle to keep himself from sinking into the floor. Your gaze is bolted to him, his to yours, in a quiet exchange of consciousness. Can you hear his thoughts? You look at him so intensely, he fears you might be able to hear how beautiful he thinks you look under the fluorescent light bulbs fixed into the ceiling.

You slip off your stool. Nanami watches your trek around the curve of the island. Onto his side.

It’s through feathery lashes that you look up at him.

“Do you find me attractive?”

The spine you have to ask such an audacious question. Visceral palpitations strike through the beating organ in his chest. His hand brushes the ledge of the countertop, then grips it for stability. “Yes.” So attractive, that he felt he could die right now.

“Even after I vomited on your shoes?”

“I thought you didn’t remember last night?” Nanami goads.

“It’s coming back to me.”

You feign cheekiness. “Yeah,” he swallows, taking a shaky breath for himself. “Still beautiful.”

Beautiful, even with remnants of day-old eyeliner smudges below those doe eyes. Messy in the most enticing way. An urge swells within Nanami, to cradle your precious face and swipe the makeup off your flesh with his thumb. However, you moved first.

Reaching upwards, you pluck the pair of glasses off his nose. He lets you. Folded, they sit on the island.

Nanami gives a subtle shake of his head, tonguing the sharp corner of his lip. “What are you doing?” It comes out hushed, like he’s telling a secret.

“I don’t know,” you reply impishly.

The following events can only be categorized as amorous. Ever so slowly, your hand touches. Pressing to his chest, feeling every valley and peak on its ascension to his collarbone. It peeks out from over top the collar of his raggedy, white tee shirt, and you feel him there. Offhandedly, he believes this may be the first time you’ve seen him outside of suitwear. Long, languid breaths keep him grounded, but Nanami can barely stand this torture. Though for you, he does. He lets you touch everything you want, biting his lip all the while.

“What are you doing?” It comes again, more breathy than the last.

You don’t answer, far too enraptured by the panes of his neck. He feels you drag a fingertip down the trail of a vein. Resolve unravels, he’s slipping.

“Kento.”

If he looked into a mirror at this moment, would he even recognize himself? Nanami knows he’s a better man than this. It should take more than the pillowy drawl of his name to snap the wavering thread of self-discipline within him.

Chest touches chest; he’s got you trapped against the kitchen island. The same island you both were sharing breakfast with five minutes ago. The same island, Nanami kisses you now.

Your face is sandwiched between two large hands. Nanami holds you to him, angling your neck back so he can grind his tongue deeper into your warm throat. There is no buildup, no preemptive apprehension that repels him from committing to bury himself in your mouth. He kisses you with no regrets, just desire and stifling yearning.

Moans vibrate the slobbery mess. Nanami feels a bouquet of fingers latch onto his hip and pull—he rewards you, sucking sensually against the tip of your tongue. It’s fucking hot. He’s hot. And hard. Nanami’s sweating. He’s grabbing. He’s rubbing. He’s—-

Beep!

The kiss stops synchronously with twin gasps. You gawk up at him, wide-eyed at the sudden auditory intrusion. He’s looking right back down at you, panting.

“It's the oven.”

“Oh.”

All the passion had seemingly drained, Nanami felt the altar in the atmosphere. With all the reluctance in the world, he pushes himself back to give you sizable space. Unsure of how this aftermath would play out. Awkwardly, he clears his throat, swabbing excess saliva from his chin with a palm. “I uhm—I was baking some bread.”

You nod, avoiding eye contact. “That’s cool.”

You look mortified, and that makes him feel mortified. “Y/n, I’m sorry for—”

“It’s fine.”

His heart sinks to his guts. “No, it’s not fine. Please, let me ap—”

“Kento,” you cut him off, “you didn’t do anything wrong. Like, at all, so stop apologizing. If anyone should be sorry, it’s me.”

Nanami’s brows pinch together, and he gapes at that. “You haven’t done a single thing wrong either.” You don’t seem to believe him, what with the way you sway from left foot to right foot, hands twiddling restlessly. Cautious, he takes a step closer. “You look anxious. I’m by no means kicking you out, but I don’t want to keep you here if it makes you uncomfortable. Just say the word and I’ll call you a ride home.”

A sigh graces your kiss-swollen lips, and you bow graciously. “Please, that would be great, thanks.”

“Yeah,” Nanami says gently, moving to fish his phone out of the pocket of his flannel pajama bottoms. “Of course.”

“I’ll go change out of your clothes—”

“Keep them on, I insist.” He’s quick to halt you. “And leave yours upstairs, I’ll run them through the washing machine. We can exchange them tomorrow.”

“I—okay, thank you.” You look so apologetic, it wounds him. “Thank you for everything. For taking me home last night, for breakfast, for–for this.”

“You don’t have to thank me. But you’re very welcome.”

Your taxi shows up a few minutes later. It’s hard to watch you go, especially when you left him on dubious terms. Were you upset by his kiss? Nanami hopes to God that’s not the case. Or maybe you were appalled? Fearful, even?

Nanami needs to turn his brain off—this cancerous spiral of thinking would only send him into a dark pit of guilt, and he had a web meeting later in the evening. After washing the dishes leftover from the breakfast endeavor, he sits on the sofa with his head in his hands

You tasted like fucking maple syrup.

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celestialowlbear · 6 months

Note

Could I request NSFW headcanons for Astarion, Gale, Wyll, and Halsin finding out his female s/o who has a praise kink?

NSFW Headcanons for Halsin, Gale, Astarion, & Wyll

Pairings: Halsin x Fem!Reader, Gale x Fem!Reader, Astarion x Fem!Reader, Wyll x Fem!Reader

Summary: BG3 boys realizing you like praise in bed.

Warnings: NSFW, 18+. Praise. Soft/romantic smut. Established relationship. Some pet names (darling, love, good girl). PiV sex, cunnilingus. Reader/Tav not described. Bulleted list.

WC: 2,000 (around 500 words per character)

A/N: Thanks for the request, anon! I had fun with this. It went in a diff direction that I initially intended but I hope you enjoy!

Graphics by @saradika-graphics

Halsin 🐻

Halsin had a way of instantly making you surrender to him, your body malleable under his strong and practiced hands, knowing exactly what your body needed.

He currently had you under his large body, his lips at your ear whispering sweet nothings as one finger rubbed perfect circles on your aching clit.

“That’s it…such a good girl for me, my heart.”

Halsin was nothing BUT praise, always saying how perfect you were, but something about the way “good girl” deeply rumbled in your ear switched something in your brain, your body automatically arching up to him.

You were desperate for more, desperate to prove just how good you were for him.

Halsin almost seemed surprised by your reaction, chuckling as he gazed down at your flushed face.

“Does that feel good, my flower? Do you want more?”

Oh, he was teasing you now.

You let out a sharp gasp as his finger probed your entrance, not quite giving you what you needed.

“My perfect flower, you are radiant like this. My good, good girl.”

You gripped his massive shoulders, trying to lift your hips, needing his finger, his cock, anything inside you.

Desire pulsed through your body, his praise turning your blood into magma.

“Halsin…please…need you.”

“You’re so wet for me, I can smell your want.”

Halsin removed his hand from your sex, earning a frustrated whine from you.

“You’ve been so good for me, my heart. You deserve more than just my fingers, do you not?” Halsin eyed you, his look predatory as he slowly licked his fingers clean of your arousal.

You nodded eagerly, spreading your legs, eager to let him in.

“I’ve been nothing but good…please, fuck me.”

Halsin couldn’t deny your request, quickly positioning himself between your legs.

He sank into you with one thrust, your vision going blurry at the intense pleasure of his cock nestled deep inside you.

Halsin’s eyes flashed gold as he tried to compose himself, feeling your cunt squeeze around him.

“You are full of surprises.” Halsin groaned, his forehead dropping to yours. “I will never tire of your body and how it makes me feel.”

“Then you best keep reminding me.”

Halsin smiled at your cheeky comment, loving the way your chuckle gave way to a deep moan as he thrusts into you.

Impossible for me to forget, my heart.”

Gale 🔮

Your intimate time with Gale is no less than wonderful, always learning more about one another in the most pleasurable senses.

Something that surprised you tonight, and gave Gale great satisfaction, was the way you reacted to his words of admiration.

Gale is never short on compliments, but something about his particular words tonight was making you swoon and wetter than you’ve ever been.

“Your body is magnificent, not even the Weave itself could conjure something so immaculate.”

Gale muttered these words as he trailed kisses down your torso, stopping when your sharp inhale of breath and the small whine that escaped your lips caught his attention.

Gale smirked inwardly, realizing what was happening.

He had been noticing you reacting to his compliments in bed more and more and figured you had a thing for praise.

You didn’t need to say it out loud, and he was going to give you everything you wanted.

Gale continued down your soft body, worshiping at your altar, knowing he was going to thoroughly enjoy this new knowledge he had of you.

“No one, mortal or God, could ever compare to you and how you make me feel.”

Gale locked his gaze with you as he settled between your legs.

“I am not worthy of such a sight. Just look at you.”

You were embarrassingly wet, his honeyed words turning you on more than his touches.

No one had ever treated you with such reverence.

“Gale…” his name was lost on your tongue as he kissed the side of your thigh.

“You’re so wet…” his pupils darkened as he admired your glistening folds. “Immaculate. I wish I could stay between your legs forever.”

You moaned louder than intended as he began his meal, purposeful movements of his tongue and lips pleasing you like you’ve never felt before.

You gripped his hair, grinding against his face.

In between licks and sucks, Gale continued to mumble flattery into your desperately aching cunt.

Your orgasm was hurling toward you faster than you’d experienced before, crashing over you suddenly and intensely.

It was as if he was casting a spell on you, though no magic was involved in this moment.

Gale continued his feast, moaning into your pussy as your release coated his beard and face.

You melted into the bed, body boneless as Gale crawled back up on top of you.

He gently kissed your cheek, bringing you back to reality.

“Are you alright, my dear? I know my tongue is skilled but I couldn’t help but notice my words had an extra effect on you tonight.”

You smiled, running your fingers through his hair.

“There’s no doubt about the skill of your tongue, in more ways than one.”

Gale laughed, running his hand up your arm.

Then we best not stop here, hm?”

Astarion 🌙

You had been kissing for a while, languidly exploring one another’s bodies with your hands, caressing and finding the spots that made one another sigh in delight.

Astarion was peppering kisses down your neck, his fangs ever so lightly nipping right under your ear.

He felt your body shudder under his touch, a low moan escaping your lips.

Astarion loved how responsive you always were to him, letting him touch and feel you at his own pace.

You seemed especially sensitive tonight, much to his delight.

Astarion hummed against your neck, taking in your scent, his hand tracing up your torso under your blouse.

His mind was clouding with desire, hearing your blood pump in your veins, your soft sighs as he grazed his finger over your pebbled nipple.

“Darling, be a good girl and take this off for me.” Astarion softly commanded in your ear, giving your breast a small squeeze.

Astarion was surprised by the ragged moan that left your lips, your back arching toward his touch.

Astarion lifted his head from your neck, giving you an amused look.

“Does someone like that?” Astarion teased, flashing you a smile.

You stuttered for a moment, embarrassed by what had taken over you.

“Can you…do that again?” You whispered, your embarrassment quickly overcome with desire as Astarion’s hungry gaze held your own.

“Do what, darling? You must be more specific.”

You huffed as Astarion’s eyes shone with amusement. He loved finding out new things about you like this.

“Call me…a good girl.”

Astarion pinned you to the bed in a flash, hovering his lips over yours.

He helped you remove your shirt and your trousers before settling back on top of you.

“Hmm, you liked that?” He once again grazed his fangs on your neck, pressing his hips into yours.

You could feel his erection straining against his trousers, seemingly turned on by this discovery.

“Y-yes.” You gasped as he rolled his hips into your core, sending a shockwave of pleasure up your spine.

“You like being praised? You like being told how absolutely delicious I find you?”

You whined, grinding yourself up against him.

“Yes!”

Astarion chuckled as you dug your fingers into his curls, bringing his face down to yours in a fiery kiss.

With one hand, Astarion slid your panties down, tracing a finger through your slick folds.

You moaned as he found your clit, rubbing circles that made your mind spin.

“That’s right,” Astarion panted in your ear as you writhed beneath him. “You are so beautiful like this. I can’t wait to be buried inside your perfect pussy.”

“Astarion…I want you inside me.”

He tsk’d in your ear, dragging his fangs down your neck, where he suckled on your collarbone.

“Patience, my darling. I do not want to rush this. I want to see every little expression on that perfect little face of yours. I want to hear every sigh, every whimper, every exquisite moan of my name. And you will be moaning my name, a lot.”

Astarion flashed you a look of determination, smirking before he lowered his head again, taking a nipple in your mouth, and rolling his tongue over the peak.

You whined at the sensation as he expertly suckled and nipped at your tender breast, your body trembling with anticipation, knowing he was going to be true to his word.

Wyll ⚔️

“My love, you were absolutely radiant tonight.”

You reeled at his compliment, his arms wrapping around you as he pulled you into an intensely deep and romantic kiss.

You both had spent the evening at a Baldurian ball, dancing, drinking, and kissing up to nobles of the city.

Wyll had been nothing short of complimentary all night, never missing a chance to comment on your beauty and how proud he was to have you by his side.

Maybe it was the wine, but his compliments were going straight between your legs.

By the time the ball was over and you were back in your room, your body was burning with need.

You were not used to praise or compliments, and ever since being with Wyll, it was an entirely new experience.

You broke the kiss for a much-needed breath, and Wyll’s eyes were dark with desire.

“I mean it, my love. I have never met someone as astonishingly gorgeous as you. I often pinch myself thinking I’m in a waking dream.”

Desire bubbled between your legs as Wyll brought you into another fiery kiss.

“You are too good to me. You are walking poetry, you are the missing piece of my soul.”

You gripped his shoulders, moaning into the passionate kiss.

Wyll always had a way with words, somehow turning everything into poetry.

The praise he was uttering caused your body to ignite, desire rushing through your veins, desperate for more of his impassioned statements.

Wyll felt one hand wander up and under his shirt, while the other began fumbling with his belt.

Wyll chuckled at your enthusiasm, realizing it was his words that were accelerating your need tonight.

“Wyll, bed, please.” You gasped between urgent kisses, trying to push him back toward your bed.

“Does my dear partner need something of me?” Wyll teased, helping you undo his belt as you began desperately trying to get yourself out of your dress.

You shot him a coy look, smiling. “You know exactly what I need.”

Wyll stripped his clothes as quickly as he could, flinging his boots off to the side as you shimmied out of your dress.

Wyll met you for another intense kiss, laying you back on the bed, his desire apparent as his hard cock slid through your slick folds.

“This is what you do to me.” Wyll moaned into your mouth, your tongues dancing, hands exploring. “Do you feel how hard I am?”

Wyll ground his hips down into yours, kissing your neck, relishing in your moans.

“Y-Yes, I can feel you Wyll, please…” You bucked up against him, needing him inside you, now.

“So good for me, so good to me. That’s right, my love. I’ll give you what you need.”

Wyll pressed into your soaking pussy, his control slipping momentarily as he felt your velvety walls clench around him.

“Do you want me to keep going?”

Wyll paused, looking down at you.

Your face was flushed, chest heaving, borderline desperation in your eyes as you gazed back up at him.

“Y-yes, tell me how I make you feel.” You gripped his shoulders.

Wyll groaned as he rolled his hips into yours, starting a slow pace.

“You make me feel as if I can take on the entire realm. You make me feel safe. You make me feel powerful. You make me feel loved. You make me feel invincible.”

You gripped Wyll’s shoulders, reeling at his words.

“I love you with my entire soul, my entire being. You complete me in every single sense.”

Wyll’s words were true and hot in your ear, his breath becoming more ragged, his words cut with deep moans as he increased his pace.

“Your body is as if it were cut from the same fabric of the heavens. I intend to worship you as such.”

Your orgasm was quickly approaching, and your moans were louder and more desperate.

Wyll pressed a finger to your throbbing clit, hurling you toward your end as your body spasmed around him.

You cried out his name, holding on to him for dear life.

Wyll coaxed you through your orgasm, his praise now unintelligible as blood rushed in your ears.

Wyll’s orgasm was soon after yours, not able to hold back any longer. He moaned your name, his body trembling as he finished inside you.

You both lay there a moment, catching your breaths.

Wyll looked at you, a twinkle in his eye.

“You always did say I had a way with words.” He laughed hoarsely as he rolled off of you, pulling you into his chest. “And if my extra compliments always lead us here…”

You laughed, playfully poking at his chest. “I definitely won’t complain.”

@thoughts-of-bear as requested 😘

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sttoru · 1 year

Text

𝐃𝐑𝐈𝐕𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐌𝐄 𝐈𝐍𝐒𝐀𝐍𝐄

⟣ sypnosis. everyone has their own fetishes and things they get turned on by; some things being very random or specific—naturally, your lover has his own. what are random / mundane things you do that he gets turned on by?

⟣ note. uhh kinda a thought i had back in the days of my old account + from this post & now i just wrote it out . . . hope you all enjoy. this post contains smut, proceed at own risk !

⟣ tags. dom!gojo, geto, toji x female reader (separately). headcanons + drabbles. smut. (over)sexualisation. gojo: m! masturbation, implied blow job, dirty talk, reader gets called ‘baby, princess’, teasing | geto: teasing / edging, dirty talk, breast play, dry humping, implied breeding, degradation if you squint, reader gets referred to as ‘wife(y)’ | toji: brat taming, pussy spanking, cunnilingus, teasing, dirty talk, reader gets called ‘doll, slut,’

GOJO SATORU.

definitely the classical ‘sucking on a lollipop’. satoru himself doesn’t even know why he gets so turned on by the sight of the candy disappearing between your plump lips—it’s not that he likes it when just anybody’s enjoying a lollipop either—only when you do it, it’s a complete turn-on. it’s ridiculous that you have that much power over him honestly.

since satoru’s been dating you, he’s discovered so many things about his body that he never even knew of; new feelings, new emotions, new. . kinks and fetishes. there’s just something about you eating a lollipop (or actually any kind of food that you need to suck on) and he’s already having a difficult time hiding his hard-on. he swears that he’s never found that innocent thing ‘hot’ before;

will try to play it off—try to ignore it, but naturally, fails at this. you can easily see the changes in his expression and actions.

satoru shifts in his seat on the couch, eyes trembling as they didn’t know where to focus; the show playing on the tv or you, who’s next to him, suckling on a lollipop like it was the best meal you’ve eaten.

“is it good, princess?” satoru asks in hopes of distracting his perverted mind from going any further. you turn your head towards him and nod, taking the candy out of your mouth with a faint ‘pop’ sound, “mhm. very.”

it’s like you knew — the way your eyelashes flutter, your glistening lips parted into a sly smile, tongue sticking out to slowly lick the sweetness and circle around its surface to get every last drop of that strawberry taste. just like the way you would tease his tip—

satoru shakes his head as if it’d help erase the mental image of you on your knees between his legs; get yourself together. she’s just eating a lollipop. there’s nothing sexual to that.

but he can’t help it. his body reacts on its own as the blood flows to his crotch, his boxers restrain the growing bulge and his cheeks turn a pink hue. his breathing pattern turns irregular as well; all clear indications of his arousal.

you were too preoccupied with your little snack and the tv-show to notice any of it. the distraction was perfect for satoru—he could palm himself through his shorts and you wouldn’t notice a thing. so, that’s what he decided to do.

his big hand sneak under the waistband, long fingers reaching far enough to stimulate his throbbing cock through the fabric of his underwear. it wasn’t long before you start to notice what was happening down there. satoru was never good at hiding such things from you.

“shit—sorry, baby.” satoru flashes you a weak smile after seeing your eyes land near his groin area, “you’re just so fuckin’ hot. . i couldn’t wait.”

he tilts his head back, warm breath coming out in small gasps whilst his hand motions continue. satoru was shameless at this point. he didn’t care if you knew—all you had to do was sit there, look pretty, have a lollipop in your warm mouth and he’d be able to finish himself off with no problems.

“need some help?” you chuckle, biting down on the ball of candy in your mouth and throwing the empty stick away somewhere on the coffee table.

satoru lets a whimper escape his lips at your suggestion. he wouldn’t say no to that, but it truly felt like he’d cum right in his pants from the idea. he can’t wait to hear those wet, suckling noises again—this time due to you sucking and licking something else than a mere lollipop. something way bigger.

“mhm, fuck, yeah. need ya to suck me off so bad—might cum the moment i feel those lips wrapped ‘round my dick, though. ya mind if i do? just don’t forget to swallow like a good girl, ‘kay?”

GETO SUGURU

his ‘kink’ is simple: just you in an apron does unspeakable things to that man. suguru’s always knew that you’d be the one he marries, however every time you put on an apron to cook, the desire to make you his wife intensifies ten fold. you look absolutely adorable in it—standing near the kitchen counter whilst moving back and forth in your pink apron.

another thing about that which turns suguru on even more, is when he finds you in the kitchen after spending the night together, wearing only panties, his shirt and the apron. ‘easy access’, is what he likes to call it. his arms would find their place around your waist, clothed dick pressing and grinding against your ass from behind. next thing you know he’s pushing your panties to the side and fucking you good.

probably will dirty talk right into your ear whilst giving you that good, early sex session in the morning.

suguru sucks on your earlobe and digs his teeth in the soft flesh before pulling away, hands still feeling up your tits under the apron, hips deeply rubbing against the fat of your ass—just what you expected to happen once you put that apron on. his favourite one at that.

“look at you,” suguru purrs against your nape whilst leaving small pecks across the skin, “you’re going to be such a good wife and mother one day, sweetheart. and i want to be that lucky man that gets to call you his wife. .”

his words and touches were merely used as a way to divert your attention from your cooking. if suguru wanted to take you right then and there, he would. and he knew you’d allow it. you always do; you turn putty in his hands whenever he’s so loving like this in the early mornings.

“mngh, yes, please.. wan’ you so bad, suguru.” your voice is a quiet whisper as you bite back a moan or two. you couldn’t hold on any longer as the endless grinding made you crave for more. you push your ass back on the hard bulge you felt, gaining a grunt from the man behind you.

“impatient, hm? poor you.” suguru sighs before trailing two fingers downwards, pulling your panties aside while his other hand discards his boxers. he rubs the tip against your wet entrance, slipping the head in before pulling it back out to rub the mixture of fluids over your cunt—not yet giving you what you want, “you know, i was also thinking about how good you’d look in an apron while pregnant. with a little belly sticking out.”

the extended edging and dirty talk made your brain stop working as it turned all thoughts into lustful ones. all of them revolving around suguru and the pleasure you’re about to receive. you knew he was just giving you a small taste of what other nasty stuff he’s going to whisper in your ear later on. you can’t count how many times suguru’s made you cum from simply his lewd words and smooth voice.

“pl—” before you could start to beg again, suguru pushes his entire length in, the girth of his cock making you grip onto the counter like you’d fall over if you don’t. you bend over a bit and let your tummy rest against the cold surface.

“so submissive.” suguru whispers under his breath, watching you arch your back after he starts to pump into you. his hand trails across the knot made from the laces of the apron, which rests on your lower back. suguru twists the material around his index finger before firmly pulling you back by it—back flush against his chiseled chest, “so obedient. .”

it was only a matter of time before his slow thrusts turn into a quick and rough pounding. you could tell by the way his breathing was turning shallow.

“what do they associate those terms with nowadays? ah, yes, ‘wifey’ material. i feel like that describes you perfectly. fuck—i really can’t wait to make you my wife, put a baby in your tummy and start our own family. you’re going to look so beautiful pregnant. i’m sure of it.”

FUSHIGURO TOJI

gets extremely turned on by you getting mad at him. toji found this out when you were upset by his habit of leaving laundry on the floor. he remembers how you stood there in front of him, blocking the tv from his sight, hand on your hip, finger pointing at his chest with that cute little frustrated expression plastered on your face. for some reason, it made his dick twitch in his pants. the urge to fuck that scowl right off that pretty face of yours was undeniable.

toji would be so calm whilst you’d almost lose your mind at his laid back, or actually, lazy demeanour. like he isn’t taking you seriously at all when you’re mad (he actually isn’t; his mind is too busy thinking about the positions he’s gonna have you in later that day).

idle ‘mhm’s’ and ‘yeah’s’ are all you’re going to get out of toji if he’s seeing you look at him with that adorable pout again—that almost unnoticeable pout you have when you’re upset about something.

“honestly, toji. you could’ve washed this yourself instead of waiting on me to finish the dishes and then put your dirty cup and plate in the sink.” you sigh and reluctantly wash his dirty utensils as well, even though you were in the midst of scolding him.

“it’s really annoying, you know? when i think i’m done doing the dishes. . . .” bla bla bla bla.

well, that was moments ago—you trying to talk some sense into toji. somehow it ended up the other way around; you being put on your back on the nearby table, legs on either side of toji’s head, his tongue lapping up your leaking fluids, his rough fingers digging in the fat of your thighs.

“really thought ya could jus’ talk to me like that without any consequences?” toji sighs, his deep breath hitting your cunt making your muscles tense up, your thighs trying to close around his head. a harsh slap lands right near your clit which causes your hips to jerk up in surprise;

“aht aht,” toji scoffs and disregards any contact with your dripping pussy, leaving it be for the time being, “keep your legs open f’me. all the way or ‘m leaving ya hanging right here.”

you cooperate immediately and spread your legs again whilst your fingers tug at toji’s black locks. his sharp eyes travel from your cunt to your face and he exhales through his nose, almost in a mocking, breathy chuckle;

“bet y’re gonna sulk ‘n pout if i get up and leave again, eh?” toji grins and is almost tempted to do just what he said, simply to see you pout and get mad at him once more. he wants to play that game of patience, but he knows he’ll come out victorious after every round. you’ll be the first one to beg him for forgiveness for your behaviour.

“please, baby— ‘m sorry. sorry.” there it was. you caved in, your frown nowhere to be seen as your face was overridden by desire and need for the man kneeling before you. toji was too good at letting you forget all about your previous sour mood—his tongue working its magic on you was enough to put you under a calming spell.

“mhm. that’s what i thought.” toji hums and smacks your cunt again. this time it was done purely for his own satisfaction; to hear how wet you’re for him, how good he’s been eating you out for the past couple minutes. but most importantly—to make sure you knew who held all power in the end.

toji leans his head down and lets the tip of his tongue glide across your vulva, circling right around your entrance to drive you insane. you could feel him smirk against your cunt in victory;

“ya know, i should make you angry more often just to turn you into a fuckin’ mess afterwards. mhmmm—wanna see that cute tough act ya put on fall apart the moment i put my dick in y’r cunt. gonna have you go from acting like a brat to a slut in under a minute, you jus’ wait and see, doll.”

#sttoru writes.#jjk smut #jjk x reader #gojo smut #geto smut #toji smut #jjk x you #gojo satoru smut #getou suguru x reader #toji fushiguro smut #toji fushiguro x reader #toji x reader #geto x reader

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nouearth · 4 months

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the boy next door.

pairing. alan ritchson x male reader headcanon.

summary. with his profile brewing in hollywood, projects are consistently lining up for alan, and the last thing he needs is a new roommate getting in the way of his stress. unless, reader finds himself becoming alan's personal stress-ball?

content warning. camboy!au, camboy!reader, top!alan, bottom!reader, food!play (cucumber as dildo), muscle worship, size difference, spitting, oral (r!giving on dildo), dirty talk, verbal, masturbation, alan and reader are roommates.

moving in.

roommate!alan who surprises you with his massive stature when he greets you on move-in day.

it was jaw-dropping. well, almost so. you were luckily aware enough to catch the slack of your jaw from relaxing any further. any second longer, and you would've been hypnotized into submission by the man's brawn physicality; massive chest, bulging arms, and thick fingers—traits you would find yourself drooling about.

"hey, uh... (m/n), right? is that how you say your last name?" "spot on! and... alan. man, your name already sounds like a celebrity, i'm jealous." "haha, hopefully the casting directors feel the same way."

roommate!alan who helps you with your luggages without a single request from your end.

aside from being eye-candy, alan utilized his muscles for the greater good and brought your belongings from the trunk of your car, to the front of your door in a matter of minutes. even when you pleaded him not to, he went on ahead while urging you to take a rest after the long drive across the city.

you complained, though half-heartedly because your ass was sore from driving all day. his massive arms were a distraction as the veins surged through every muscle of fiber like lightning.

"you really didn't need to do all of that—" "hey, you're saving me from shelling out an extra thousand by being my roommate. plus, you seem... normal? that's the least i could do." "normal? pft, i don't know about that. but i will say, your kind gestures have put you on my 'no-kill' list." "let's backpedal a bit. is it too late to kick you out?"

roommate!alan who has already taken a liking towards you in the few hours you two have spent together to unpack.

saying that people 'stared' at alan would be underplaying what they've actually done. it was a daily occurrence to catch people gawking at his stature. whether it was with astonishment, intimidation, lust, or hostility, all eyes were on him, collective eyes and gasps piecing together how a man could look the way he does. some whispered 'steroids', others envied his dedication.

as uncomfortable as it could be at times, he liked the attention knowing he'd be the subject of one's conversation to another friend.

with you, it was no different. he'd caught you several times staring at his arms from across the room. or maybe it was his shoulders? how they perfectly filled his shirt out from seam to seam? either way, you were enchanted, especially when he'd nonchalantly flex his muscles every now and then in hopes he'd catch your eye.

and he could say the same about himself when he'd catch you bent over, ass raised high while you dug inside of your boxes to unpack the remaining decor you had brought with you.

until that moment, he never noticed how much smaller you were compared to his, the top of your head barely meeting his chin if he was to line you up. how much of a desire had awakened to have you in his arms, just to see how you perfectly fit into his body.

getting to know each other.

roommate!alan who has already learned of your habits, likes and dislikes, and hobbies within a few weeks of you moving in.

it was the small stuff that you found yourself gushing over. you two almost always had dinner together on the couch. condiments on the side for you, ketchup over his fries for him.

whether it was homemade or takeout, the best memories being made between the two of you were simply eating in front of the tv and watching alan's roles despite his reluctance.

you would cheer whenever he appeared on the screen, the camera somehow making him seem smaller than he appeared to be in real life. it was impressive, and once again, you found yourself drawn to the sheer size of muscles beside you.

throbbing, even at the simplest touch, as he gave your shoulders squeeze amidst passing by you to collect your plate.

"have to head to bed early. got an audition in the morning." "awesome! was this the one you were telling me about earlier?""yep. i worked with the director once, so fingers crossed?"

roommate!alan who can read your body language early on, and senses that you're hiding something from him.

it was that one question that either turned you into stone, or a babbling buffoon as you would try to avoid the subject.

your occupation.

he didn't know much other than the fact that you worked from home, which was why your bedroom was so intricately set up like a tech start-up.

four different types of cameras, a gaming chair, several monitors for one pc; it was intricate and honestly, alan didn't really understand it.

"so, you don't have to say yes or no, but..." "hm..?""are you a youtuber? like, one of those tech guys who reviews new phones and stuff?""something like that, i guess?" "is it mentally draining?" "more so... physically?"

roommate!alan who asks about your day after coming home from a shoot.

you looked exhausted, drained, wrecked—images of you that he never thought would rile him up. yet, as you groggily came out of your room with flushed skin, and a thirst that needed to be quenched, alan was equally parched just watching you recover your breath in between gulps of water.

cluttered state of mind.

roommate!alan who merely offers you a look of annoyance when you greet him after he arrives home.

you've recognized that look by now, and all you could simply provide was his dinner plate, and a sympathetic pat on the back.

"listen, i know a friend and he has a mutual that can help you—" "not in the mood right now, (m/n).""just trying to help, alan."

roommate!alan who ends the night early, leaving you on the couch with his plate left untouched.

it was awkward, to simply put it. the show you put on happened to be the one he was auditioning for, and then ultimately flunked because he forgot his script. from the corner of your eye, you could see his jaw tightening, straining, fork scraping against the ceramic plate as he pushed the fried rice in a corner, and then eastward, because that corner was empty.

though, is it wrong to say that you found it hot? if only there was a less forward and awkward way of saying, 'hey, i'd love to take your mind off of things right now. let me suck you off.'

secret unlocked.

stressed!alan who spends half-an-hour in the shower contemplating whether this career was worth it.

countless of potential roles never making it pass the call-back stage; he was growing exhausted from it. driving from city to city, filling his car with gas that would amount to nothing in the end. he could only stretch his royalties out for so much longer, and—

no, he wasn't a quitter. the last time he felt like this, the next audition was a success. if predictions are right, he'd consider this madness a sign of luck, at least for the meantime.

stressed!alan who needs something to take out his frustration on.

maybe he should head to the gym? no, he already showered. and it was already getting too late for his liking to drive back and forth at this time, even if he wasn't tired.

at the corner of his eye, his laptop glinted with a sparkle.

some good porn would fix him.

stressed!alan who has one hand down his sweats, and the other calmly scrolling through his favorite cam site.

his lips grew chapped, licking them from time to time as he watched the page load without the decency to sugar-coat its offerings. his sight was immediately assaulted with moving thumbnails of women, and men under the spell of their own lust. some squirmed from the uncontrollable feeling of being filled, while others preferred talking to their patrons, touching themselves to the pixelated smut sent through the chat.

stressed!alan who has you on his mind despite the options to choose from, and he squeezes his large balls in his hand.

the cursor maneuvered respectfully around one performer’s breasts and another’s erection in its journey to the filter list. the drop-down menu pulled open and alan checked off the men within his age range.

with a quick load, the website refreshed with a new assortment of performers, and his cock began to sprout at the moving thumbnails. his hand immediately began to feed his growing bulge with gentle squeezes and rubs as he scrolled what seemed to be endless cycle of camboys.

the sudden warmth of his clothes stuck uncomfortably to his skin. alan removed each article within seconds, yet the flush of his skin remained, ached as it yearned for the physical touch of the seductive men beckoning him.

stressed!alan who felt the world had stopped. the heat frozen in his cheeks, his hands equally mirroring as he hovered over a familiar face. strained, orbs dilated and wandering, and holy shit—so fucking inviting.

it was you.

stressed!alan who watches your stream for a few minutes to decipher if it was truly you before shamelessly stroking his cock after he confirms that it was.

sweat dribbled over your neck and body in diverging streams. your legs were raised on their own accord, thick thighs shaking from the muscles working overdrive to keep you still and perfectly centered before your webcam.

stressed!alan who couldn't believe what he was seeing. it all made sense now, why you were so reluctant to tell what you truly did.

you were a fucking whore. a whore for the internet for everyone to goon to, to cum to. he can imagine it now, how much pleasure you'd given these men as he watched you fuck yourself with a cucumber.

and he was one of them. alan's large cock was manhandled by his hand, stroking sloppily with an ample amount of lube squeezed over the flesh of throbbing muscle.

all those memories of you looking so wrecked came fluttering in. you looked wrecked because you were fucking wrecked.

by a fucking cucumber.

and alan has never been so envious of a vegetable despite eating them on a daily.

you were plunging your tight hole with a long cucumber, slickly lubed from the condom over the girth of the green plant. with every push of your wrist, your legs caved into the pressure to set themselves down, but every time the crown of the plant pressed into your prostate, you were reminded of the viewers who had been donating, their pop-up messages urging you to keep them up 'like a good boy.'

stressed!alan who jerks himself off to the rhythm of your wrist.

every time you sank the thick cucumber inside of you, alan paced himself to match your tempo, plunging himself into his closed fist, mimicking your refusing hole by opening his fingers one-by-one, until he had fully breached through.

stressed!alan who mutters to himself, who mutters words that you couldn't hear because you were busy pleasuring yourself for hundreds of men watching you.

"fuck yeah, take that dick..." "too big for you?""fuck, we'll make it fit."

stressed!alan who imagines himself fucking into you.

he knew his cock was big. he'd been told countless of times, by men and women, and lots of time, they would quit a few minutes in because it was just too much.

but you, he was certain that you were able to take him. because—fuck—alan was bigger than that cucumber you were fucking yourself open with. it needed a glorious amount of lube, like what you had displayed before him, dripping heavily from your abused cavity, but luckily, you had experience in handling big sizes, right?

you'd take him, like the 'good boy' the users were spamming in the chatbox. you'd take him with your eyes forced shut from him stretching you out. from alan's impatience and reluctance to wait for you to adjust to him, because he's fucking furious at you.

why didn't you tell him sooner? why were you hiding this from him? how could you be so selfish and leave him blue-balled whenever you'd come out in those shorts of yours? teasing him with the smallest glimpse of your inner thighs?

if he could ever lay his hands on you, he'd show no mercy. fucking your ass doggy-style till your cheeks clapped. plunging you with his cock as you spread your legs open for him. locking your throat with his arm while he's under you, your back pressed to his chest, rendering you trapped within his embrace. you'd take his cock in every position, in every state, whether you'd like it or not, because you were a good, fucking, boy.

stressed!alan who spits on his cock because you began simultaneously filling your mouth up with a dildo.

spit. god, there was so much spit coming out of your mouth. you loved pushing yourself to the limit, alan could see it. the light leaving your eyes whenever you pushed the dildo a little too far to the back of your throat. that could be his cock, if you let him.

he imagined how warm your mouth would be. how perfectly shaped it's made for his thick, meaty cock. he had the perfect curve to make it a struggle to swallow him down, but like he noticed, you loved a challenge, didn't you?

alan's cock was plump, and beaten red in his hand. noises similar to the sound of you sucking off the dildo were made with his hand, his spit and lube sloshing together in a lewd symphony that could be heard from your room if you'd learn to shut up.

"choke on it, gag on that fucking dick..." "fuck yeah, spit on it.""good fucking boy."

stressed!alan who's nearing his climax from watching you tease the camera with your hole.

you repeated countless of profanities after every plunge of the cucumber flushing deep inside of you. you made sure to buy the girthiest one; they loved seeing your asshole gape at the end of the stream. twisting your wrist, you could feel the subtle ridges of the cucumber, violating your guts with its nature, and it was all-so glorious. the size, the texture, the viewers, the sound of donations coming in, the ‘thank you’ messages after for making them come; you were a true star within this community and it evidently showed when you finally hit your donation goal for the night.

alan fucked his fist, nearly coming to the sight of your gaping hole when you yanked the cucumber out of you like a sword-wielding knight ready to slay a dragon.

it was beautiful, watching you desperately hold onto the physical being of the cucumber, but all there was to it in the end was the memory of its girth. your hole was perfectly molded it, clenching and pursing, blowing fluttering kisses to the camera, to alan.

and if it was up to him, he'd ram his cock into you by now, not letting a second to spare in fucking you until your muscles felt like jelly, because fuck, you were so enticing like this. head lolled back, mouth open with your tongue hanging out as if you had a dripping cock to catch its cum above you.

the sound of donations kept chiming in, and alan knew he wasn't alone in this enchantment.

one more hit to your prostate, and you came undone in seconds. thick spurts of cum shot at your chest from your current position, then at your face when you raised your hips a little higher and pumped your cock with a ravishing fist. the sound of donations rang like a police siren. if you were being profiled for a crime, it was because you couldn’t hold in your cum any longer like one user had begged for you to.

stressed!alan who perfectly aligns his orgasm with yours and blows multiple loads on the screen on his laptop. his moans came out in hushed stutters, countering your choked whimpers that would then break out into begs for cum.

"fuck, fuck, fuck. i need your cum, i need it. give me all of it, fuck. all over my body. in my ass. on my face. i need that load."

his cum came out in thick, pulsating ropes, flying forward to land on the image of you resuming to fuck yourself to your audience's collective orgasm. this time, at a closer view, as you centered the camera to fill the stream with a screenful of ass and a gaping hole. it was your fans' favorite part of the stream, the chat exploding in several fire emojis and astonishment as you showed your pretty insides blooming for thick, endless spunk.

it was hypnotizing, almost as if you were really there before him.

with one hand, alan brought his laptop in between his legs, and smeared his own cum over the blooming resolution of his screen. feigning a breeding, he slides his cock over his cum, over his laptop screen, while you moaned in the background, begging lewdly for cum, to be filled, to be bred, to be dripping, to be fucked, and alan doesn't know what came over him, but another load automatically came out of him like some kind of spell.

"h-holy shit...""fuck, yeah... give me that load, all your load... are my fans breeding me right now?"

alan painted you until you were practically hidden beneath the layers of his orgasm. translucent white blurred the screen, but he could still make out your silhouette. sitting now, exhausted, wrecked, evidently too tired to be bothered to clean up the mess you made on your body.

and just like that, his head felt lighter. all of his worries had left with every dump of load over your pixelated hole, and yours as well, as you leaned back to catch your breath with your eyes closed. his breathing matched the pace of yours, together, collectively, and all he could do was shortly laugh at the situation before him.

roommate!alan who greets you in the morning with a strange smirk as you made yourself breakfast.

"i can see why your job is physically draining now." "hm?" you yawned. "what are you talking—"

roommate!alan who pulls out a cucumber from the fridge, and cuts it into thin slices for his morning smoothie.

"i-i can explain—""you can make it up to me tonight."

he popped a slice into his mouth after.

nouearth. please do not repost, plagiarize, or translate my works. and if you like this story, please reblog and leave a like!

#alan ritchson x male reader #alan ritchson x reader #alan ritchson x m!reader #alan ritchson x you #alan ritchson x y/n #alan ritchson imagine #x you #x reader #x male reader #male reader #m!reader #✰ : nou.celebs #✰ : nou.alanritchson #nou.fics

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anakinstwinklebunny · 2 months

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DILF!ANAKIN HEADCANONS 🍷

TW: at some point it contains crazy sexual content, so if you're feeling uncomfortable with it, please do not read it for your own safety and comfort 💓 shout-out to @slutforfinnickodair that helped me, check her blog out! She's amazing (just like my every mutual 😼) obvious age gap (reader is younger), pet names like..you'll see yourself, ALSO BUNNY COSTUME EVERYONE!!

Dilf!Anakin who was very desperate to have you. The first time he had seen you was in the luxury restaurant he and his friends went and he'd be lying if his eyes weren't wandering towards your moving body through the tables. And since that time he decided to make you his

Dilf!Anakin who came to this restaurant way to many times so he could see you

Dilf!Anakin who, when found out where you live, send bouquets of crimson red roses with small notes (after, of course, you had a few interacts with him due to his often appearance at your work place)

Dilf!Anakin who spoils you rotten after you two got together

Dilf!Anakin who obviously doesn't care about the age gap between you two but he sees it in daily life; you using phrases he doesn't heard of or doesn't understand

Dilf!Anakin who is more experienced in finances than you so you use his help a lot

Dilf!Anakin who's extremely protective. Would make sure you're okay wherever you go and that no man dares to touch you or speak to you in a way that makes you uncomfortable

Dilf!Anakin who's a way better cook than you are (at least not in cookies, cakes and things that in general are sweet)

Dilf!Anakin who's the best cuddler; you often fall asleep in his arms/on his lap

Dilf!Anakin who makes you absolutely needy after leaving for business trip;

anakin gasped in surprise, taken back by the intensity of your sudden kiss. He just got home from the three day trip. He knew you've missed him dearly (like always) and he knew he left you in..specific state. But what he didn't know was that you're gonna throw yourself on him the second he opens the doors

your hands pulled on his tie to bring him closer and he had to hold back a groan. A surge of desire ran through him as he returned the kiss with equal fervor, your lips hungrily exploring each other

"wait--" he chuckled, breaking the kiss briefly. he took a step back, his fingers lingering on your skin for a moment before fully closing the doors. His eyes fell back at your desperate and impatient self, wearing specific (but his favorite) costume. He clenched his jaw at the sight before taking off his outside clothes

"i can't wait more" you whined, desperately reaching for his black tie again

anakin couldn't help but give in to your needy plea, unable to resist you. Just looking at your wide, helpless eyes was enough to make him agree on anything. Especially when you were practically begging for it. You may didn't know this, but the power you held over him was insane. His heart and stomach flipped at the sight of you in your bunny costume once more before he chuckled

"naughty bunny" he murmured teasingly "i haven't even been inside for five minutes, and you're already all over me"

"please" you whined again and pulled on his tie to bring your lips together once more

your desperate whine went straight to his core, making him groan softly. He reluctantly gave in to the growing ache for you "you're gonna ruin my tie, bunny" he murmured against your lips

"you have so many more of them" you retorted

his deep chuckle filled your ears and your cheeks flushed "such a needy, greedy bunny" his lips trailed down your jaw. It did not help with the throbbing feeling that appeared down your body "what should i do with you, hm?"

"touch me..please" you pleaded

leaning down, he brought his lips to your ear and whispered in a low, sensual voice "oh sweetheart..i'll touch you everywhere"

anakin's long fingers worked to untie your bunny costume. But for your liking, he was doing it awfully long "just hurry up" you urged

he grinned with the chuckle following right behind it "patience.." he finally removed the last knot "i like unwrapping my gifts with care.."

Dilf!Anakin who has beautifully hot morning voice;

It was early Saturday morning, six a.m. Anakin was already up and in the kitchen, his curls a tousled mess and he was still dressed in his pajamas. It was awful to wake up at such hour in the weekend but he completely forgot to turn off his everyday alarm. He did try to fall asleep once more, however he couldn't. And it was killing him.

Opening the fridge, he scanned the shelves but found nothing appealing. He moved to the food cabinet, rifling through various boxes and cans, but nothing seemed to catch his eye. Maybe he just didn't have an appetite? Even if, his movements were slow and groggy, the early hour weighing heavily on him. The sudden burst of need for caffeine became, in time, undeniable.

With a sigh of resignation, Anakin decided to go with something he actually had a craving for. He filled the kettle, set it to boil, and prepared the coffee grounds, the familiar routine helping to shake off the last remnants of sleep. The rich aroma began to fill the kitchen, offering the promise of wakefulness and a clearer mind to tackle the search for breakfast.

When he heard the steps against the wooden floor, his head twisted towards the sound. His expression immediately softened at the sight of you; still sleepy and half-awake. He smiled softly, thinking to himself how adorable you looked when you were just waking up. “Good morning, sleepyhead,” Anakin greeted you in a raspy, deep voice, his eyes lingering on your beautiful figure.

That voice was one of the many things you were obsessed about. It was undeniably one of the hottest things about him. He leaned against the counter, waiting for the coffee to brew. You didn’t say anything back and wrapped your arms around his waist while he grabbed his coffee.

“Feeling needy this morning, hm?” he teased gently as you let yourself nuzzle to his chest. You were tired, you were hungry and such combo only made you clinger than you often are

His lips curled into a small smirk when his free arm wrapped around your waist. His lips (before taking a sip from his mug) pressed a kiss on the top of your head “Such a needy little girl…” he murmured affectionately

"Can I have a sip?" you looked up at him, your chin pressing against his chest.

He raised an eyebrow in amusement, glancing back down at you. “You hate my coffee,” he chuckled, his thumb caressing your waist over your pajamas.

“Yeah, I hate your bitter coffee,” you admitted with a playful smile

His arms wrapped gently around your waist, pulling you closer until your bodies were pressed together. His lips brushed softly against the side of your neck, and his nose nuzzled there, taking in your familiar, comforting scent. It was something he loved inhaling deeply, a scent that seemed to ground him and give him strength to face the day.

“Anything interesting in the fridge?” his breath warm on your skin before he placed a tender kiss there.

And again, this damn voice..

"Maybe scrambled eggs? Or pancakes... Are you hungry?" you cleared your throat to shake away your dirty thoughts. His voice really could do magic on you, like nothing else

He hummed in thought, contemplating your suggestion before placing another kiss. Then another, and another “For you? Always,” he joked, gently spinning you around to face him, to which you gasped at the sudden situation; the fridge's doors closing smoothly behind you

"You know I didn't mean that"

He smirked, a chuckle escaping him, and you could see his adam apple going up and down.

Gods..

Leaning down to your ear, his lips lightly brushed the edge of it “But I did,” he said in a low, deep voice, filled with innuendo.

"ani--" you shivered after his large hands slid under your shirt to grope on your breasts

"shh..relax..let me have my breakfast" he whispered

"you're impossible"

He used the closed fridge doors and pressed you against them to lean back towards your neck

so that's how you're gonna spend your morning

you let out a small moan when his lips touched the sweet spot on your skin and reached with your hands to tangle your fingers in his curls "that's how we're gonna spend our breakfast?"

"absolutely" his voice dripping with mischief "and lunch.." his mouth traveled up to your jaw "..and dinner"

"what about dessert?"

"dessert is definitely included"

Dilf!Anakin who prided himself on making the best hot chocolate; it was a small tradition passed down from his mother who often made him one when he was a kid

Dilf!Anakin who's work ends the second you step into his office

Dilf!Anakin who takes you shopping;

Anakin was sitting on the leather couch in Victoria's Secret's changing room, dressed sharply in his business suit as he waited for you to try on the set of lingerie you had picked out.

Usually, Anakin found these stores mind-numbingly boring, but this time was different. This time, anticipation thrummed through him as he waited for you to step out of the dressing room and show him the lingerie and make the experience far more entertaining.

you pushed the curtain aside, revealing yourself in the tight, black lingerie that hugged your curves perfectly and accentuated your cleavage

anakin's eyes moved to your body, to which his breath hitched at the sight. For a moment, he was speechless. Simply swallowing the growing arousal he began feeling "you look...gorgeous" he finally managed to say, though the word felt like a massive understatement in his eyes

your smile widened "yeah? What about the backside?" you turned around so his eyes could catch the sight of your plump bottom perfectly highlighted by the dark material

anakin was rendered speechless again; his eyes roved over your figure once more but for him, it wasn't enough. He wanted to just sit peacefully and watch you even for an entire day and he would never get tired "gorgeous, absolutely beautiful"

he stood up, stepping inside your small changing space. He closed the curtain behind him and moved closer, taking, one more time, the sight of your incredible body in mirror's reflection. His intense gaze made your cheeks flush and you felt his arms wrap around your waist before his chin rested on your shoulder

"how could i resist you like this?" he murmured and began brushing his lips against your shoulder "look at you..such a beautiful girl..do you like it?"

"it's pretty..i like the material"

"it looks amazing on you" he complimented

"yeah?" you grinned

he hummed "it shows your curves so well" his large hands began to move up to your chest, his thumbs caressing the delicate skin of your cleavage that only ignited the fire up to your cheeks

his fingers then moved to the straps of the lingerie, pulling on them back and forth "you want it? i can buy it for you..or do you want something else?" he tried to keep his focus on you and not your body

you turned around to face him "what about this lacy bra?" you suggested with your eyes sparkling with mix of excitement and mischief as your hands rested on his chest

his lips tugged into a smirk and he raised his brow "yeah? you want that?"

"can i?"

"you can have everything you want" he gently squeezed your hips to emphasize his words "you know i can't say no to you, sweetheart"

Dilf!Anakin who often takes a shower with you. When you're too tired to do anything, he helps you clean yourself. Or things just get spicy under the running water

Dilf!Anakin who 'hates' when you tease him during the important calls/meetings (mostly online)

Dilf!Anakin who you tease at the family dinner;

It was Anakin's family dinner, and of course, you were invited. His family was amazing and they loved you as their own. However, the conversations sometimes became a bit dull for you. Remembering the intimate pictures you once had taken, you quietly took out your phone and decided to tease the love of your life.

Anakin was in the middle of an animated discussion when his phone suddenly buzzed. He furrowed his brows slightly as he discreetly reached into his pocket and pulled it out after saying the small 'im sorry'. Unlocking it with his passcode, he glanced at the new message. At first, he thought it was from work, he awaited the message about another contract with big company. However when he saw it was your name at the notification, he was confused. Couldn't you just say it to him right now? But when he saw the provocative picture, his expression shifted instantly to the one of flushed pink

He looked up at you from across the table with his eyes widening with surprise and a spark of excitement. You caught his gaze and tried to hide your mischievous smile with your hand

He was trying so hard not to get distracted, but that picture did something to him. He didn't know if it was the fact that everyone was around and he couldn't do anything or the fact that you had sent him something like that, knowing it would drive him crazy.

He did his best to act normal, keeping the conversation going, but in reality, he was dying to get his hands on you as soon as possible.

Setting his phone back down, he tried to act cool but he couldn't keep his heart from pounding in his chest. His fingers drummed impatiently on the table, and he stole glances at you time to time

Achieving your main goal, you sent another picture, this one even more provocative to make him even more desperate to end this dinner

Anakin almost choked on his water as the image appeared on his phone. His breath hitched as he took in the sight. Seeing you sitting so casually across the table, acting as if nothing had happened, was driving him insane.

"Ani, is everything alright?" Shmi, his mother, asked worriedly.

Anakin swallowed the liquid and took a deep breath, trying to compose himself once more "I'm-I'm alright. Just swallowed the wrong way," he said, his voice a bit strained. He discreetly put his phone back into his pocket and shot you a sharp look across the table, almost as if promising retribution.

Anakin tried to focus on the conversation, he really did. But it was impossible with the second picture. His thoughts were consumed by you and the images you had sent, leaving him barely able to pay attention. His expression betrayed his frustration with his mind slowly unraveling.

You were proud of yourself. Making your lovely man in such conflict with himself was more pleasant than you thought it would. So, as your mother kept saying - 'three times a charm' - you snuck in yet another picture, this one much spicier, with your hands squeezing your full breasts and your legs spread

Anakin almost immediately opened the message. His eyes widened, and he almost flinched at the photo. He looked at you again, the fire in his eyes growing darker "I—Excuse me for a second," he said quickly, rising from his seat. His steps were quick as he walked away from the table, heading to the bathroom to cool down.

Everyone watched Anakin leave, and Shmi's face was filled with worry for her son.

"Is he alright?" Shmi asked, concern evident in her voice.

"He must have just needed some air," you replied with a casual smile, masking your smirk with a glass of water.

Anakin walked to the bathroom, closing the door behind him. He pulled out his phone again and looked at the latest text he received. He let out a shaky breath, trying to calm down, but the picture made it nearly impossible. His breathing was shallow, and his body was reacting intensely to the image. "You damn little tease," he muttered through his teeth, his hands gripping the sink to control himself.

Shmi turned to you with her concern evident. "Sweetie, maybe you should check if everything's alright. He looked pale."

"Of course," you replied, rising from your seat to head upstairs where Anakin had gone. When you reached the bathroom door, you knocked softly. "Ani, are you alright?" you asked

But before you could finish, he pulled you inside and pinned you to the wall. Anakin quickly closed the door behind you, trapping you between the wall and his tall, broad frame. His eyes were dark with desire and frustration "You," he said, your name leaving his lips like a curse and a plea, "You damn tease."

"I—I don't know what you're talking about," you mumbled innocently.

"Bullshit. Yes you do."

His face was just inches away from yours and his eyes locked onto yours with an intensity that made your breath hitch.

"You knew damn well what you were doing, didn't you?" he growled, his hand wrapping around your waist and pulling you closer.

"I--"

"You knew exactly what you were doing" his voice low and heated. His hand slid up from your waist to cup your jaw. His fingers were gentle, yet squeezing your jaw in a little firm way "sending me those pictures while i was sitting at the table, trying to act as if nothing's happening. You saw how frustrated and bothered i was, and yet you loved every second of it, didn't you?" he continued, his blue eyes burning into yours, making you shiver. it was so intense, your knees felt weak

you couldn't help anymore and curled your lips into a smirk "i--well--yes" you admitted almost too proudly

his eyes moved to the exposed skin of your neck and you could see something swich in them. He leaned forward so that his breath touched your face; it looked like he was about to press his lips to yours so you parted them to give him better access, for him to only lean to your neck to brush his lips against your delicate skin

your eyes closed and you casually tilted your head to give him even more access to your neck. He inhaled your scent deeply: it was driving him insane, not being able to take you right there against the wall. However somehow the anticicpation made the experience even more exhilarating. So to pour his need and desire for you, he bit down on your neck lighty, sending the pleasant shiver through your body before speaking:

"you're a little devil in disguise, aren't you, sweetheart?" his voice a mix of frustraition and admiration

you moaned quietly, not wanting anyone to find out about what's happening in the bathroom. But suddenly he pulled away, daring himself to leave you breathless and confused

"wh-where are you going?" you stammered, pushing away from the wall

He chuckled at the whine in your voice, smirking as he walked toward the door. "Back downstairs to the table. The rest of the family will get suspicious if we stay here too long."

"That's mean—and unfair," you protested with disappointment in your tone

He paused with his hand on the door "And you were fair during dinner? Sending me those pictures, teasing me the entire time, and not letting me do anything about it?"

And with that, he left you in the bedroom alone. All needy and desperate for him

in the evening, as you were sitting with anakin's stepdad and stepbrother that had his arm around his wife on the couch, anakin walked into the living room with his hands in his pocket. His eyes lingered on your form before he followed your gaze on tv screen.

just a few hours ago, you had been pinned against the bathroom wall by him, and the memory of both situations (the pictures he replied almost every ten minutes) filled his mind with all sinful thoughts

he walked over to the couch, taking his hands out of his pockets to rest them on the backrest and lean down to whisper in your ear "c'mon, we're going for a ride"

you stirred a little at his words. you were so focused on the movie that you hadn't even noticed him stepping inside the rooom. You turned to face him and raised your brow in confusion

your gaze met and his eyes were completely different from yours; were sharp with a mix of lust. His urge to drag you to the car was growing stronger witch each passing minute "let's go" his head nodded toward the hallway

"Where are you guys going?" Anakin's stepdad chimed in

"For a quick ride, we won't take long," he replied quickly, but the look in his eyes conveyed far more than his words.

"Just be careful, Ani," Shmi added, her voice filled with gentle concern.

"We will," Then he quickly turned his gaze back to you "C'mon, sweetheart."

You swallowed hard, recognizing the look in his eyes, and quickly followed him out of the room. You knew what was about to happen, you knew what he was about to do..

anakin strode out of the door, you following closely behind. Once outside, he grabbed your hand and lead you to the car. You felt his firm yet somehow gentle grib against your skin, as if he was still concerned to hurt you

the cool evening air did little to cool the fire between you, this nervous aura ignited in your stomach and quickly after enveloped your body. You just followed him like a puppy as he swiftly opened the passenger door for you "get in" he instructed with urgency and light sharpness

you immediately slipped into the seat, heart racing, the tension between you almost tangible (which obviously didn't help at all). Anakin then closed the door with a decisive click and hurried around to the driver's side. Sliding in, he started the engine with a quick, practiced motion, the sound coming with a low growl

he barely waited for the gates to fully open before driving out of his family's driveway, to which you exhaled nervously. The normally calm, controlled anakin was now tense. At least that's what you could tell from his clenched jaw and the veins that popped out on his forearms from his tight grip on the steering wheel

feeling the weight of his silence, you couldn't help but ask softly "is everything okay?"

he remained silent for a moment with his gaze unwavering on the road before slowly, his hand left the gear stick to slid it down on your thigh. Your eyes moved down when his fingertips traced lightly along the bare skin. Did it help to ease your nervousness and excitement? Absolutely no, especially when he gave you a firm squeeze

"everything will be soon" his low, deep voice gave you shivers

"where are we going?" you asked with sudden boldness

"you'll see" he replied "dont worry about it"

⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅

he parked the car in a secluded spot, surrounded by nothing but trees visible through the window "get into the backseat" he commanded

the sudden command and his tone only increased the deep blush painting on your cheeks (which thankfully he didn't see due to the late hour)

"c'mon, or i'll just drag you in there myself" he said impatiently, turning to face you more directly

"it was just a-a jo-oke--" you tried to say between moans from his thick member pounding into you from behind "i-i swe-ar!"

"a joke huh?" his tone sounded breathless as his curls were a mess (just like you were), falling on his right eye. He let his large hand run from your spine down to your hip to thrust deeper into you "i don't think it was a joke, sweetheart..i think you just like to tease me, drive me insane"

the car swayed to the sides from your crazy love making and the forest echoed in both of your moans. His lips tugged into a smirk when his hand went down to slap your ass, which gave you the pleasant sting cover your cheek "that's right, baby, you just love to make me all crazy, huh?"

"ye-yeah" you said through half-linged eyes

his proud, smoldering gaze moved to your enticing backside, drinking in the sight of your cheeks jingling with each relentless thrust "you're such a naughty girl, teasing me like that.." his long fingers sink into your flesh, kneading and massaging the plump globes of your ass. The rough, insistent pressure sends sparks of pleasure shooting up your spine, making your toes curl and your inner walls clench around him

"need to--gonna--co-ome" you whimpered out

he groaned, his hips snapping forward with a particularly deep thrust that made you gasp. His fingers dig into your ass even more from the building feeling down his body "not yet, sweetheart..i'm not done with you yet"

Dilf!Anakin who sometimes teased you about dating older men;

"youre such a pretty girl..so innocent" he murmured directly to your ear while adding second finger inside of you "but i bet you like being handled by a man who's experienced, who knows exactly how to make you feel good, hm?" you whimpered at his words "I guess good girls don't fuck guys my age, right princess?" you mewled in response "atta girl" he grinned "--so you are a bad girl after all..and bad girls need some punishment, don't you think baby? Do you want your punishment?"

Dilf!Anakin who loves watching you ride him

Dilf!Anakin who often plays with your breasts; running his thumb over swollen skin to harden your nipples and intensively memorize how your face twists in pleasure

Dilf!Anakin who always does aftercare after love making; he would not move to do anything without that

I apologize for it being so long 🙈, wanted to include everything I had in mind (which still wasn't everything). Also was too impatient to wait six days to show you guys my latest works (if you don't know what I mean check my earlier post)

TAG LIST: @kingdomhate @ysrjune @divineani @erosmutt @haydensprettyprincess @mistress-amidala @catnipaddictt @heartscone @haydensbbg @inneedsoffanfics @fuckmyskywalker

(if you want to be removed or added then don't be shy and let me know 💋)

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kakashixhatakesxwhore · 4 months

Note

Random NSFW headcanon please? (If you do nsfw...)

alrighty roo, buckaroo, lets discuss kinkage - thank you so much for the request

Random Kinks They Deffo Have

They: Iruka, Kakashi, and Itachi (with additions of Sasuke and Shikamaru) (f!Reader)

Warnings: whew! Swearing, explicit smut, power play, somno/free use, auralism, names of authority, praise kink, spit/blood/cum play, idk just please be 18

Notes: This one is for the freaks, obvi Boruto!Sasuke and Boruto!Shikamaru, I'm begging for everyone's thoughts and opinions - be prepared for Shikamaru's to be nasty

Masterlist💿

Iruka

Power Play

He just fucking loves when you take control

Anything you tell him to do, Iruka will do compulsively, and he's absolutely twitching when you tell him how good he is for doing so

All! About! Your! Pleasure!

Iruka's favourite encounters would be when he's not allowed to touch you, though, funnily enough

You're riding him, and all he can do is watch your sultry smile and feel your pussy hugging him tight - he wants to feel you, to run his hands all over your body - but he can't - or else you'll slow down to a halt and sometimes even pull him out, just to give him a beration of sorts

Now, that said, Iruka does not fuck with demeaning talk - you better love on this motherfucker, he's trying his goddamn best for you, and if you should negate that, it would allow a dark cloud to form over Iruka's mind

You don't want that, right? Exactly. So you keep it sweet, you give him stupid, little commands then fan the flames of his ego when he completes the command in spades

Lowk gets boyfriend-brain when he's with you, so kinda does need to be told what to do

Iruka is a sweetheart!!! He's always going what he can for you, all the time, even if you don't explicitly ask him to every time

Kakashi

Free Use/Somnophilia

When you said you would be okay with giving it a trial run, Kakashi was elated, and fucked you four seperate times that night, and began again before you woke up in the morning

He fucks you slow, almost trying not to wake you up, but the stretch is unmistakable

"Good morning, pretty lady. Have any good dreams?" He would ask, noticing your quickened breath, making you instantly relax into the situation

You love it - you stop sleeping in any amount of pant, just so Kakashi could have you as he pleased

When you got home, he would be pressing you against the door, when you try to start chopping vegetables for dinner, he would bend you over then pop you up on the counter when he just couldn't get enough

Kakashi's condition is that everything spontaneous happens within your shared, lovely, little home

He might sneak you away occasionally while the two of you are out, finding a small cache in the forest, but Kakashi would be asking for permission, assurance, consent at every step of the way - public is just different, but he's not entirely opposed

Kakashi just can't believe he's got you, and every time he looks at you, he needs to have you

Itachi

Auralism

He needs to hear you; the way your voice quakes, the way your nails rake across the skin of his back

Itachi's favourite sound though, is the harmony of your bodies meeting, skin smacking skin, squelches and a slick plunging sound, filling the room

Yeiff - let alone fucking outside - my god - Itachi wants your encounter to be so loud that the whole world knows what's going on

With his shit eyeslight, Itachi would prefer to close his eyes while fucking you, letting your beautifully wanton sounds paint a picture in his mind

In a perfect world, he would totally love to get tied up with a blindfold on - just to be at the mercy of your light touch and the intoxicating sound of your pleasure - Itachi would break the binding eventually, desperate to have his hands on you, needing to fuck you hard enough to hear the smacking and sloshing

Itachi is also the primo dirty talker, insisting you reply to him through your stinted pants, sharp gasps and breathy moans

His whole arousal around the subject of sound is cranked up to ten the second the two of you are in public - your little yips when he squeezes your ass, or the biting 'Itachi' that slips out of your mouth when he corners you to cop a feel

Oh, he fucks with names, you can call him whatever the fuck you want, so long as he's the one you're screaming about - but he likes it when you speak to him with more authoritarian honorifics (sir, daddy, lord)

Sasuke

Praise

Ooh, tell him he's hitting the spot and Sasuke would lose it, only trying to hit the exact same spot again

If you're ever out, singing his tune to another party, about anything, and Sasuke catches wind, he's taking you home immediately to prove he can provide more than you bargained for

Y'all, lets be real, and acknowledge that sweet Sasuke craves praise in any and all capacities, but most fervently in the four walls of your bedroom

Again and again, it doesn't matter how many times you tell him, he wants to hear it again

"Sasuke, your cock is so fucking big," you gasped as he slid in slowly.

"Louder. Tell the neighbours."

Loves, loves, loves to be able to hear the affect he's having on your body, every wave of pleasure, every jolt from your orgasm

Even if it's visibly clear that he's got you like putty in his palm, Sasuke will demand that you tell him how good he is, how deep he can reach, how much your pussy loved him

You're a blabbering mess, and it strokes Sasuke's ego to no end that he can bring you to this point, absolutely drunk with pleasure

Shikamaru

Spit/Blood/Cum Play

Anything Shikamaru can ingest that comes from your body (not excretions, sickos), he will

It's insane when you two hit the trifecta - Shikamaru cumming all over a patch of knicks on your stomach then spitting on the pile of liquid, he would mix it all together with his index finger, on top of you, before he would lean down and lick it all up, shoving the finger covered in the rose-tinted mixture into your mouth

Mm mm mm, and your cum, my good Christ, does he ever love your cum

Nothing brings Shikamaru so much joy as pulling his fingers out of you, being coated in a shiny slick

There's also something about the way your face screws up every time he brings a kunai into the bedroom - Shikamaru goes weak in the knees when he sees your crimson blood, glinting on the tip of the knife, losing it even further when you lick it off without hestitation

He's going to cum on your face, just to see you try to open those pretty eyelashes of yours, beads of white weighing them down

Shikamaru had no clue he was into fluids, until you randomly asked him, one day, to spit in your mouth - it's been a done deal since then, spitting just comes with the territory eventually

He always loved seeing your body get painted with his cum, but it's a whole different ball game to watch you play with it, to watch you lick it all up without wasting a drop like you used to do (honestly, Shikamaru can't even remember why he used to wipe his cum off of you)

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loneisland · 3 months

Text

CAT’S CRADLE

HOW WOULD THEY REACT TO GETTING A CAT? (FT KAISER, SAE & RIN)

warnings: mention of a scratch (sae), cat haters, literally nothing this is just cute little headcanons

🐾 MICHAEL KAISER

(the type of guy that “hates cats” until he loves them)

When you first asked him about getting a pet, he said no because a dog would be too much to take care of since he’s a professional football player. Didn’t even consider the cat. But you did.

Arguments to plead your case included but were not limited to: cats are naturally independent and clean animals. They are relatively calm (he raised an eyebrow at that), and spend most of their time sleeping. You had one when you were a kid so you know how to take care of one!

Poor guy. Almost had an aneurysm. He was terrified and looked at you with all the incomprehension in the world

Told you they were selfish, vain and vicious animals who only care about you because you give them food. You almost slapped him in the face, and you both went to adopt the cat in compensation for the emotional damage he caused you. Was frowning the entire time during the adoption process.

UUUNTILL. You come out of your bedroom to get some water in the kitchen. You pass by the living room. You see kaiser on the couch. WITH THE CAT IN HIS LAP. You gasp, kaiser looks over at you in surprise, the cat scampers off, but it’s too late… you saw everything. Kaiser has been converted into a cat person.

Later that day, kaiser swears you to secrecy.

🐾 ITOSHI RIN

(the type of guy that really hates cats [most people would call that a psychopath])

You asked about getting a cat and it took him about a millisecond to deter you from getting a cat in your home.

For about 5 minutes. Because a few hours later you went to the adoption center to get a few pictures of cute little kitties in hopes that they would get to rin and he would eventually cave because, who wouldn’t? And he DIDN’T.

He looked at you. Looked back at the pictures, back at you, back to the pictures, his eyes devoid of any emotion. Does not understand what you’re trying to do. Does not care. There will be no cat in this household, and that’s the end of the story.

That is it. Desperate times call for desperate mesures. You sneak a cat in the house regardless. Maybe the real thing will make him realise just how cute kitties can be. After all, you can’t pet a picture, you can’t play with a picture, and you can’t see a picture move! This is it, you are going to convert him into a cat person.

Had you known this would turn your home into the Cold War, you wouldn’t have done it.

Not only does Rin not like the cat, the cat doesn’t like Rin either. Each look is a stare down show. Rin refuses to get into bed as long as the cat is on it. The cat refuses to lounge in his favorite spot if Rin happens to be near it. Rin begs you to return the cat, but, it’s not your fault if the cat doesn’t like him… he likes you just fine 🤷‍♀️

🐾 ITOSHI SAE

(the type of guy you thought hated cats but actually loves them)

You felt like you had prepared yourself your life for this. Today would be the day you would get sae to adopt a cat with you. You had everything planned: PowerPoint presentation, cat pictures, budget, and a meticulously prepared answer to any and every single question he might have. This was your D-Day. Nothing would get past you.

You had done a whole lot of research: why sae didn’t like cats (you figured it was mostly genetics, most of his family weren’t fond of cats), his experience with cats (he came home with a scratch on his hand one day, and claimed he “hated the lot of them”. Who is ‘them’, might you ask? Cats, of course!) and so on.

When you heard a set of keys jingle on the other side of the door, you knew this was your time to shine. You set up the laptop, hang the pictures, and take you seat

And so it starts: stats, projects, nothing does get past you, just as you intended.

However, there is one small thing that does bother you tiny little bit, and that makes you trail off on some of your points: your boyfriend is dead silent. His expression is like the void, there is nothing that could tell you if you convinced him or not.

And there it is, the one word sentence that you’ve been waiting for: “sure. I like cats.”

Your mouth hangs open. Sae is the only one who likes cats out of his entire family. The scratch he got on his hand was from a mouse who had almost gotten ran over. You had completely miscalculated his moves.

But at least he likes cats

this is for all my cats lovers!!! Cat lovers unite!!!!

comments and reblogs are most appreciated!

©loneisland 2024

#ᡣ𐭩cha.writes #bllk fluff #bllk x reader #blue lock #blue lock x reader #blue lock x you #kaiser x reader #michael kaiser #michael kaiser x reader #sae x reader #itoshi sae #sae itoshi #sae itoshi x reader #rin x reader #itoshi rin #rin itoshi #rin itoshi x reader

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thatdeadaquarius · 7 months

Note

College be kicking my ass but we continue on like Scaramouche (alive and kicking, but still crabby about it all lmfao)

Random idea but what happens when the acolytes got hold of Creator that is able to squeeze into small places (like a cat would but less liquid) and knows how to escape? Think of sagau but instead of all the deaths, its just they got overexited and chased the Creator the moment they see them which scared them shitless seeing a mob just appear out of nowhere.

I mean who wouldn't after seeing your favourite person in your favourite game just appear right in front of you? (I apologize in advance to the poor unfortunate sucker)

Imagine a world-wide search that keeps getting them heart attacks. Venti just flying by with Dvalin ony to see you on top of the floating pillar above Dragonspine LEANING PRECARIOUSLY OH MY ARCHONS GET AWAY FROM THE EDGE---

Zhongli walking around trying to find peace and quiet only to sense your presence which led him towards Azhdaha's domain and nearly shouted in terror seeing you hanging by one of the limestones above the slumbering dragon your grace what and how the in the fucking name of teyvat did you---

Yae Miko screaming in surprise seeing you inside one of the cupboards of your grace's house (you made a small temporary one in each country in case u need more rest) that she and Ei found in one of the remote islands.

Nahida and the entire Forest Rangers having one of the most intense, frustrating and most challenging game of hide and seek in the entire freaking forest.

You hiding underneath the sand like a fricking snake everytime Cyno spots you from a disrance.

-Vine Boom 🧨

I am no longer apologizing for lateness simply bc atp its basically assumed Im terribly sorry 💀 /so gen

Content under -----------------✄

☆

Sun: Reader, (you/they/them)

Orbit: Headcanons-ish, Imposter SAGAU? Imposter SAGAU Reversed Ver? unclear (NOT DARK)

Stars: little here, little there

Comets & Meteors: Content Warnings: reader/you thinks everyone is hunting them down, dark sagau fake-baiting lmao, & Trigger Warnings: none known.

Please comment if I missed any. /gen

No but the traumatic experience of you cautiously wandering into Mondstadt after realizing ur in Genshin like, ✨👄✨

and every single street/alleyway you try to go down to even avoid it is just people all looking at you like: 👁️👄👁️ ???

and ur over here equally just like: 😃 tf u lookin at????

u get up near the cathedral and finally see a playable character, Barbara, and she just fully GASPS and POINTS at you like she’s getting paid to be an actor for this

shouting sm nonsense like: “My Creator??? King of All???? IS THAT YOU?????”

and after which a few nuns check the commotion, Rosaria and Barbara’s Visions are glowing, and all join in heckling you

Venti coming (literally) flying around a corner on a breeze, saying he was trying to catch up to you, and ohhh now ur Convinced:

None of these bitches must be happy to see you, you did forcefully control their bodies if by the sounds of it they knew you/they must’ve been aware during the game, aw damn looks like u gotta run for your life now

You just book it out of Mond, Venti/Barbara yelling after you to come back, and meanwhile you’re leaving a shell-shocked Jean/Diluc/Kaeya (with Visions glowing) in ur wake on the way out

Not one being, mortal or otherwise, convinces you to stay in Mond, and you finally get to Dragonspine- the only place u know they wont follow

(well maybe the pyro characters but ur betting if u can make it up the mountain theyre not committed to,, running you down? arresting you?? ur not sure)

u make it all the way up and luckily everythings all solved like u did in the game, the traveler must be well into teyvat by now, and u decide to say “for the already achieved achievement” and fuck around and find out near the nail

U thought as u finally got on it u heard a scream somewhere in the sky, and u spotted Dvalin carrying Venti/Barbatos, and once again book it out of town (damn u cant believe theyre so committed they got the dragon in on it…)

so u haul ass all the way down the mountain, traveling only at night, living like a vampire, holing up during the day when u see Mond citizens/knights/gods/etc. walking around presumably looking for you

but u make it, finally! sweet, sweet Liyue, ur 2nd home (besides Mondstadt)

Only to immediately, like right outside the fucking gates to Liyue Harbor, run into Zhongli.

and he’s standing there like this mf knew u were coming, and the first thing out his mouth is some BS like, “…Darnell, that you??”/ref LMAOO

but instead of laughing abt it u just scream and run for your life haha

oh jesus h christ- he’s sending the adepti after you fuck- how hated are you??

sure u maybe hate Celestia a little, and sympathize with the traveler, but this seems a little extreme?!

you go to the one place u know he/any other adeptus doesnt like to come often, Azdaha’s cave

and after a night (well, day bc ur sleeping during the day now) of Azdaha sleeping peacefully, he wakes up fully coherent and u actaully have a rlly pleasant conversation with him about Liyue food lol

he also kept mentioning some kind of god? but like in reference to you?? are u connected to them, u kinda know a lot of gods atp so ur not sure which he means, a god to rule them all??? Celestia?? yeah u guess u know those fucks-

Cue u looking down from ur perch in the stalagmites above, u found a ledge and Azdaha helped you,

only to see a very concerned and borderline nervous Zhongli down below, Azhdaha just greets him like nothing’s wrong, but as soon as he sees you’re uncomfortable, helps you escape (more like teleport) away

(the old geo archon was probably nervous just be around Azhdaha u assume)

and now ur on the islands of Inazuma

u know exactly what islands are all but abandoned, the ghost one, the electrocuting one, and the scary bird one, all great options 👍

Raiden and Yae Miko manage to find you on every single one, with Yae getting more and more exasperated, and Ei getting more and more concerened with every position they find you in

hanging out on the banks of the electro river that would kill you if it weren’t for the little electro trees fending it off (thank fuck u maxed that shit out while in game)

bc u assumed they’d hate to be around it, plus lots of ronin- nope Ei is almost… scolding you?? oh but she’s got her Musou no Hitotachi out fuCK-

(she was slaying ronins that were getting too close to you)

she also is constantly jumpscaring you on tsurumi island/ghost island bc while the ghosts are gone, the creepy atmosphere isn't, and it makes her all the more terrifying as The Raiden Shogun comes walking out of the fog into the cave you've hidden in, stuff of ur nightmares for weeks as u just bird box style try to be silent and stealth around the island to get to an abandoned boat,

literally her scary ass purple sword glowing silhouette wandering around in the fog as you paddle away 💀

getting to thunder bird island and Yae Miko is literally both running/teleporting as quickly as she can to you, as you jump from floating rock to floating rock to escape her, god its so unnerving to watch someone so lazy running after you

she keeps getting in this weird “praising the heavens pose” sometimes when you jump, oh shit she’s aiming hER ATTACKS AT YOU THATS WHY-

oh good- she missed and deflected some stray debris coming ur way, u gotta get to the bird area and see if you can glide away (u managed to get a glider at some point thank fuck)

the bird is luckily on ur side against all these mfs trying to hunt u down (for controlling their bodies u guess) and flies u back to mainland teyvat

sumeru u thought would have the most mercy on u tbh, maybe fontaine bc Neuvillette only rlly cares if u break “fontaine” laws, maybe he wouldn't care to chase down a mortal like u over this

and nahida bc shes just nice

which is somewhat true, as you are acting like tarzan swinging around on vines and shit to escape the forest rangers

but she does show up in ur dreams, but shes just all foggy or distorted, u guess bc ur not of this world or smth??

and so it just unnerves u more, and u try to make it out to the desert, where at least there's no gods to worry about

mf ur hunkered down in a pyramid and see the shadowy shape of Cyno walking thru a sandstorm at you 💀

U dont kno how u got out of that one tbh, smth abt “king deshret made a plan for this” and left it behind for ppl to use to escape underground, sweet

And while Nahida and other eremites, scholars like Alhaitham/Kaveh/Dehya were looking around the desert sands, u slip by them

And u make it to the oasis at the edge of the desert, and steal an old rowboat to cross to fontaine (if i had a nickel everytime u needed to escape a god via old rowboat, youd have 2 nickels- )

and getting to Fontaine is not much better.

U literally get to the clockwork tower, foggy, ominous, uninhabited except for treasure-seekers occasionally, its perfect

until Neuvillette himself just strolls in abt 3 nights of u making camp there

u nearly shit urself as he just fake-knocked on a wall, meanwhile ur like hanging from the ceiling (four limbs out suspending you type of fictional shit)

luckily, mostly bc u were trying to wait him out (which wasn't possible ur limbs hurt so bad) he was, finally, the first person around u long enough to be genuinely kind and patient and answer questions

(Neuvillette acc couldn't figure out where u were at first, and was very confused how u got ur voice to boom around this chamber of the tower, after a minute of talking u trusted him enough to tell him to look up lol)

just in time too, he was able to hide u from the archons a little longer bc u were nervous

(u were already intimidated enough by Neuvillette being irl himself, talking to you, let alone all the other gods/vision users, as u realized afterwards thinking abt all the ppl trying to “hunt u down”, that if they all counted as ppl actually wanting to see you, that was a rlly overwhelming amount, esp if their first instinct is to run at you??? what are you, a fan-abused/disrespected kpop idol????)

☆

trying to be fancy and schedule posts once i get enough free time to actually wrangle my adhd to actually partake in my favorite hobbies 💀

well as long as I'm not getting slammed with lots of shifts again

hope u guys had a great weekend and have a good week! Happy late Valentine’s Day :)

Safe Travels Vine Boom,

💀♒

If you wanna join a taglist, DM me what for! "Pspspsss, please tag me for [All SAGAU posts, Only SAGAU Language AUs, diff fandom, etc.]!"

(If you ever wanna drop, just DM me! "No more taglists/[specifically this AU/fandom] please!")

♡the Beloveds♡

@karmawonders / @0rah-s / @randomnatics / @glxssynarvi / @nexylaza / @genshin-impacts-me / @wholesomey-artist / @thedevioussmirk / @the-dumber-scaramouche / @chocogi / @fallen-starr / @areaderofbooks / @devilangel657 / @esthelily / @justinsomniachild / @nanithefuck / @questionotmystopit

@kiyomi-uchiha777

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writteninkat · 3 months

Text

HEADCANON: MHA MEN SPOILING YOU

w/ Bakugou, Kirishima, Todoroki, Hawks, Endeavor

warnings: none just mha men being rich<3

navigation

KATSUKI BAKUGOU

"Hey, where are you?" You hear you husband's rough voice spill through the speakers of your phone, your eyelids shaking at the eyelash extensions being pressed down and glued on your water line.

"Getting my lashes done."

"Anything else planned?" He asks, making you purse your lips in thought.

"My whole day's packed, actually. I already went to my facial appointment. I'm getting my nails and hair done after this. Maybe a little shopping if I have the energy. Oh! I'll probably get a massage too!" You rant, smiling as you imagine the perfect selfcare day.

"Alright. You think you'll have enough energy for dinner after all that?" You giggle and hum, "Uhuh! I always have energy for you baby."

"That's good to hear. Have fun today baby, I love you."

"I love you more."

You hear three beeps and you hear your lashtech giggle.

"Hero Dynamight is portrayed as this scary, rough guy in the media, but he's actually very sweet." She swoons, making your chest swell with pride.

"He is, actually. One time-"

You're cut off by your phone buzzing, followed by your lashtech gasping. Unable to open your eyes, you stretch your arms out. "What? What happened?!"

"Hero Dynamight he..." She gasps.

"He what?!" You yell, your chest caving in as every horrible thought crosses your mind.

Did he get injured during a fight?

How badly is he injured?

Is he...?

"Dammit, Ari! Tell me what's happening!" You demand, about to sit up from the bed.

"He just sent you two million yen..." She breathes out, making you release a sigh.

"Fucking Christ. I thought something happened." You whisper, relaxing back onto the bed. "Did he say why?"

"'Refunding you for you facial appointment. The rest are for your other plans. Call if you need more. I love you baby.'" She read aloud, causing a smile to stretch across your face.

"He's the sweetest." You swoon.

EIJIROU KIRISHIMA

You look around the villa, eyes sparkling and head over the moon at how beautiful it is. The Spanish colonial architecture is beautiful, the ceilings high, the wood floors shiny and waxed, and the arched windows big enough for you to show a tree from the tops of its leaves down to its roots burrowed down the soil.

"It's so pretty, baby!" You giggle, twirling around the foyer of the villa you'll be spending your two weeks in.

Finally, Eijirou was able to grab a two-week break from hero work. The two of you have been busting your asses off, protecting cities and taking down villains.

This time, you made sure your schedules synced when it came to time to making time for each other.

"You like it?" He asks, hugging you from behind.

You turn your head to the side, giving him a kiss on the cheek. "I love it, baby. This'll be the best vacation ever. Just the two of us. Happy and in love." You smile, giggling at his cheeks slowly turning into a crimson colour.

And just as you said, your two-week vacation was a bliss. The both of you drank and ate, made love, swam in the private pool, in the private beach, cuddled during movies, played video games, board games, explored the small town near the villa- everything was perfect.

As you sit on your spot in the hero's private plane, a white folder on the table catches your eye. With curiousity tickling your fingers, you open it, your gaze immediately falling to your husband's familiar signature. Your brows knit as you bring your eyes back up to the top of the document, reading it.

This letter of Intention to Offer is made and effectively by...

Property Address...

Purchaser Address...

Purchaser Contact...

Dear Mr. Kirishima Eijirou...

Please accept this bid purchase to...

For the amount of...

"Eight million euros?!" You scream, clutching on the document.

Eijirou rushes out of the private bedroom inside the jet, his eyes wide with worry as he inspects you. "What's wrong?!" He worries.

"Why the hell did you buy the villa?!" You scream, now your eyes are wide with worry.

"You said you loved it." He shrugs.

Your head pulses with the need to close your eyes. You can feel your blood pressure rising at this stupid, idiotic, irresponsible...sweet, lovely, man.

"Where the hell are you getting eight million euros?" You sigh, finally looking up at the man who foolishly spoils you rotten.

"The same place I was getting eighty million yen for the yacht you wanted..." He looks at you like you're stupid.

"Why the hell did you buy a yacht on top of a villa, Eijirou?"

"You said you wanted the boat!" He exclaims, forcing you to rack your brain for the memory of when you said that.

"I said it was pretty! Not that I wanted it!" You exclaim, your face scrunching up in stress. "Where on earth are you getting your money!"

The red head simply smiles, engulfing you with his strong arms in a warm, tight embrace. "I'm one of the top heros in the world, baby. And I've been in this game for decades now. It's safe to say I've got more money than we both can possibly need." He reasons, his lips pressing against the top of your head.

"Plus, property investments are good!" You roll your eyes at the stupidly sweet man you call your husband, your heart searing as your gaze catches onto another document with the words 'Land Ownership' and your name printed not far from it.

SHOTO TODOROKI

An evil grin stretches across your face as you point at every pretty thing your eyes fall on. You don't break your stride as you enter and exit shops in under a minute.

"That." You point at an adorable bag inside a shelf. "That, too." You point at the one beside it.

"These shoes in my size. These too. Ooo! And these as well." You hand the shoes over to your assistant, letting her pass them over to the store clerk.

You exit the shop, leaving one body guard behind as you enter the store beside it. This one's a gadget store.

"You think it's time to upgrade my devices?" You ask, playing with the showcased device on the table. You turn to your side, eyeing your husband's assistant, seeing tears comically strem down his cheeks.

"Please, madam! You've spent so much already!" He cries, "What on earth did Mr. Todoroki's money ever do to you?"

"It's not his money, it's him in general. He hasn't been spending time with me as of late. I'm getting bored." You pout, nodding at a store clerk before point at different gadgets, one of each kind.

"All those, if you have them in pink, but if not, I'll get them in black. The biggest memory you have, please. Along with accesories. Pink." You order before leaving the store once more, entering another booth selling watches in insane prices.

"Madam, Mr. Todoroki is a pro hero-"

"And I'm not?" You glare at the employee. "I work as much hours as he does. I'm just as demanded, I'm just as busy, and I'm just as tired as he is. And yet, I can always make time for him back at home."

You know you're being a bit too unreasonable. But you've grown bored and lonely. And you'd rather die than take another lover. So Shoto's bank account it is.

"He'd have a heart attack if he saw all the withdrawals." The assistant worries as you ponder over two watches displayed in front of you.

"If my husband suffers from cardiac problems due to my spending, then he shouldn't have taken being a pro hero as a job." You point at the silver and blue Patek Philippe. "This one please." You tell the sales woman who smiles at you as she nods softly.

You check your own watch to see you've been at it for hours now. Almost time for dinner.

Maybe I should pay my busy husband a visit.

You roll your eyes.

You stretch your arms up above you, letting out a yawn as your muscles finally relax.

Your last stop is a five star restaurant right beside the mall.

Shoto scribbles on a few papers, hating how he's been leaving his wife alone for multiple nights. Knowing her, she'll have his ass if this goes on for too long.

He sighs, stretching his up above him, feeling his back crack. His head pulses and the need to see his wife waves over him in strong currents.

Right as he's about to resume his paper work, his phone buzzes in a call, his financial advisor's name flashing the screen.

Shoto answers the call with one hand, the other elegantly scribbling on the paper. "What is it?"

"Sir, I think your card's been stolen. There have been numerous deductions, all huge amounts." Shoto furrows his brows, taking his wallet out from his pocket. Sure enough, his black Master is missing.

A tickling feeling grows in his gut. "From which shops?"

He hears a few clicks from the other line, "These are all luxury brands. Miu Miu? Coach? LV, Prada, Bottega Veneta, Chanel, Dior, Philippe Patek- The thief may be a woman, sir."

"You're right. A woman. My woman." Shoto sighs, chuckling softly. "How much did my wife spend?"

"A little over two hundred million yen." Shoto can hear the wince in his advisor's tone, making him grin.

Sure, his wife's a kickass pro hero, and she makes just as much money as he does. But nothing compares to her spending ability with the cute little side talent of not touching her own bank account.

Just as he's about to give out an order, said wife enters his office without knocking, a familiar paper bag in her hands.

"Brought you dinner from that favorite restaurant of yours." She lifts the bag, striding over to him.

"She seems to have been having a little tantrum because I haven't been giving her the attention she deserves." He smirks at her, "Run it through."

"You talk shit about me to your employees?" The love of his life pouts as he chuckles deeply, standing from his seat. He places his hands on his wife's hips, softly pulling her towards him, giving her lips a gentle peck.

"Never. I was just explaining to them why I lost millions of yen in a day." His joke earns him a playful glare from his wife.

KEIGO TAKAMI

You complained to Keigo once. Once. That you were tired.

It was six am that morning when you woke up like you hadn't slept at all. You didn't have muscle sores or a headache nor were you sick. You were simply tired.

By nine am, the pro hero had written you a sick leave, carried you onto his private jet, and the both of you were now flying over beautiful blue waters.

"Keigo-" He cuts you off by shushing you, lifting a finger up in the air. He pulls you towards the private room located at the back of the jet where a massage table has been set up, along with ambient spa music and a masseus in the corner with her hands clasped together and her head bowed down. The room smelled of peppermint and lavender.

"We'll land in twelve hours. You can request anything else after the massage." You don't get a chance to respond because he leaves the room, closing the door gently.

You and the masseus look at each other before she lets out an amused chuckle. "He seems to spoil you so."

You sigh, "He overdoes it, but I know he means well."

Eleven hours later, you've gotten a mani pedi, a simple and refreshing facial, your muscles are relaxed, you've eaten two square meals, and had the longest nap of your life.

Now you're seated in front of your husband, sipping your champagne in your soft, fluffy robe as he reads his magazine.

"Keigo, will you finally tell me where you're taking me?" You sigh, watching him look at you through his golden eye lashes. He smirks, setting his magazine down as he pulls the window cover up.

You squint at the sudden brightness but your eyes quickly adjust. You blink a few times, moving towards the window, taking a peek.

"You took me to Greece?!" You exclaim, seeing the familiar white walls and blue roofs.

"My baby said she was tired." He mused, "And we can't have that."

You open your mouth in protest, but a sound cuts before you. "Mr. and Mrs. Takami, we'll be landing shortly. Please return to your seats and fasten your seat belts, thank you."

You glare at your husband one last time before buckling up, letting out an annoyed huff as you keep your eyes on the window.

"Jesus..." You breath out, craning your head up to look at the domed ceiling. Your gaze drags down, moving from side to side as you inspect the large arched windows and marbled floors.

Keigo weaps his arms from behind you, breathing in your scent. "You know you didn't have to fly me anywhere. That spa day was exactly what I needed. I could've gotten it back in Japan."

"Yeah," Keigo squints, softly pushing you towards the glass double doors leading to the balcony. "But you wouldn't have been able to enjoy this view afterwards."

The scene of the vast blue ocean with the sun slowly dipping down is breath taking. Accompanied by the soft glow of yellowish lights, the chirping of a few birds here and there, and the smell of the ocean has you claiming this place to be paradise.

"I love it..." I mumbled, captivated by the beauty of the sunset.

"More than me?"

You turn your head to the side, pressing your lips softly on your husband's cheek. "No, never more than you, my love."

Keigo smiles, pressing a soft peck on your lips before slowly letting his arms fall, his hand delicately holding your hand.

"Come with me." He tugs you back inside, leading you up the grand marble staircase and inside what looks like the master bedroom.

"Close your eyes." He whispers in your ear and you immediately follow his order. Slowly leading you somewhere, you hear a soft click of a door. "Open."

You blink once, twice, before your jaw drops to the floor. You're right outside a huge walk in closet, and inside is one of the biggest boquet of elden roses formed into a heart. Surrounding it are paper bags with different kinds of designer brands printed on them. Behind the boquet is a round marble table with different boxes of leather, some kept closed and some open, revealing shiny watches and jewelry, ranging from silver, gold, and white gold.

"Keigo..." You breathe out, taking a careful step inside before turning around to face your husband. Your eyes feel like they're about to bulge out of their sockets and your haw about to fall off.

"Not now." You shakes his head, quickly stopping you as if he knows what you're about to do. "Pick an outfit and we'll leave in an hour." He presses a light kiss on your forehead before leaving you alone with your gifts.

Feeling as though you've been spoiled rotten, you take your time going through your numerous gifts, deciding to wear every dress you come across, but quickly change your mind when you find another one.

Your husband may be a pro hero, but his true talent is picking out beautiful dresses for you.

You decide on a wine red silk dress, revealing your back, pairing it with strappy silver heels, a diamond encrusted choker, and diamond earings that hang right below your chin. You make up is a simple smokey eye with a bold dark red lip. Your hair curled and pinned up into a bun, the front swept to the side.

You step out of the room and onto the top of the staircase, looking down to see Keigo already in a suit and waiting. He looks up, eyes sparkling when they settle on you. Your heart bursts of affection- he always does this. Whether you dress to the highs or like a beggar, he looks at you like you're the most beautiful thing he's ever laid his eyes on.

Feeling your cheeks flush, you slowly climb down the steps, your husband meeting you at the bottom. He drinks you up slowly, his chest rising before shakily lowering back.

"Beautiful..." He whispers, soft fingers caressing your cheek.

"Thank you." You kiss his open palm, leaving a lipstick stain. "What are we having for dinner?"

Keigo's eyes are stuck on you lipstick stain and you watch his throat swallow. "May I have you instead?" He asks, his eyes filled with heat, making you chuckle.

"No, you may not, because I'm hungry for some real food." You cup his cheek for a moment before stepping to the side, making your way to the waiting car in the driveway.

He takes you to a restaurant that serves an array of european dishes. Not long after, you have a food baby and are tipsy on what you claim to be the best wine you've ever drank.

By the time you finish, you decide to take a little walk around the small town. His suit jacket hangs on your shoulders with your clasped together.

You try to hold it in, but the searing pain from your feet makes you hiss and wobble. Keigo immediately catches you, "What's wrong?"

You sigh, looking up at him with a pout. "My feet hurt. Heels are too high."

Keigo smirks before getting down on one knee.

"We're already married." Your reminder earns you a hearty laugh from him.

"I'm trying to undo your shoes, dummy."

"Oh."

He swiftly undoes the clasps of your heels, taking the pair. Before you take another step forward, he scoops you in his arms, your immediately wrapping themselves around his neck.

"Keigo?"

"Hold on tight, love." He whispers.

You get a second to process what he means by that before his wings stretch out, pushing the both of you off the ground.

"Keigo!" You scream, tightly clutching onto him as he laughs loudly.

"Shouldn't you be used to this by now?" He yells through the air.

"I'm full and I'm drunk! You're gonna make me throw up!" You yell.

He simply laughs, his arms holding you possessively onto his chest. "Not yet, my love."

You look up at him questioningly before finding the courage to look down, enraptured by the beauty of the city below you. Before you know it, you catch a glimpse of the shoreline before dark blue waters meet your gaze.

"If you drown me, you'll be the worst husband ever." You frown, receiving a snicker from Keigo.

"Don't worry, love. We're almost there." At his words, you look infront of you, noting how the angry waters eventually grow calm until finally, they're as still as mirrors. Scratch that, they're exactly like mirrors.

The stars twinkle and shine brightly above you, as well as below you. It's as if you're in outer space. The sight around you is exquisit, bewitching, alluring, captivating—it's divine. You see millions upon million of stars all around you. Tears fill the corners of your eyes at the tantalizing scene.

Keigo looks at you and you feel him slowly lower you, right above the water. "Lower your feet for me." His request has you immediately dropping your feet.

He hovers the both of you just above the water, only your tippy toes grazes the top of the water, creating a circular ripple effect, making the stars in its reflection dance.

"Beautiful..." You gasp, charmed by the sight.

"Not as much as you." Keigo mutters, pressing a soft kiss on your forehead. "I love you."

"I love you more."

"Love?" You call out.

He hums in response, the silence relaxing.

"How much did you spend just today?"

You feel your husband freeze at your question. It's incredible how Keigo's spending problem only occurs when you're involved.

"You want me to sugarcoat it or-"

"Give it to me straight."

"A little over a hundred yen..."

You look up at him, unamused. "Keep lying."

"A hundred... Thousand?" He offers, averting his gaze.

"You take me for an idiot?"

Keigo sighs, burying his nose on the top of your head. "Million."

You huff out an irritated breath before melting back onto your husband. He's lavish when it comes to you, but it's one of the few ways he likes to show you off.

ENJI TODOROKI

Your heart pitter-patters on your chest as you squeeze your gold clutch tightly. You're nervous- and it's justifiable. You've had the fattest crush on your boss ever since you were hired as his secretary, and when he was invited to an auction with the choice to invite a plus one, he chose you. Warranted, you are his secretary, so he may need some assistance.

Stop being delusional. This is your job. Be professional.

But your flaming cheeks aren't listening to your brain. Your dress feels too tight, and your skin feels like it's been lit on fire but the cold breeze of the night cools it down.

I'm gonna end up sick.

Just as you're calming yourself down, you see a black sedan stop right in front of your lawn. You quickly make your way towards the car, opening the door only to be greeted by a strong scent of expensive perfume with a hint of musk. Your eyes immediately fall onto the one man you can't have.

He's tapping away at his phone and you can't stop the wave of disappointment engulfing you. You wanted to see his reaction to the dress you picked out.

Stop it, he has a family for Christ's sake!

You silently hop on. As soon as you close your door, the car speeds off.

"This auction is also a masquerade." He mentions, pushing a black eye mask towards you. Despite being black, it sparkles under low light.

Black glitters.

Did he find out the kind of dress you were gonna wear? The masks suits it perfectly.

As you inspect the mask, you steal a glance at him to see he's still on his phone. Rejection clenches at the stupid muscle in your chest, but you try your hardest to ignore it. You put on your mask, softly tying the black ribbon at the back of your head to keep it on.

A few minutes of silent torture passes by until bright lights finally engulf the car. "We're here, sir." The driver announces.

Endeavor taps away at his phone for a few more moments before pocketing it, letting out a tired sigh. Both passenger doors are opened and a young man in a simple black and white suit offers you his hand. As soon as you're about to take it, a bigger, much rougher hand pushes it away.

"I'll help my date down myself. Thanks." Endeavor's voice is rough and deep, but that isn't what makes you gawk at him.

"Date?" You repeat his word, making him look at you. The blue eyes under his red mask brighten when his gaze finally drops on you.

He looks at you from your mask down to your toes, and back up. He does so slowly, that even after you've placed your hand on his, he doesn't budge. Doesn't make a peep. The only thing moving is his eyes drinking you in slowly. And the movement of his throat as he swallows.

Welcome to another episode of: I'm not delusional! I swear my boss thinks I'm hot aswell!

Finally, Endeavor clears his throat. He steps to the side, allowing you to hop off the car. The cameras' flashes increase when the paparazzi notice that Pro Hero Endeavor has brought a date.

"Endeavor! Who's your date??"

"Is she someone special?"

"Is your date being paid?"

The both of you walk through the red carpet as questions are being yelled at.

"Your family back home will see you've brought a date! How do you think they'll feel?"

Your head snaps at the direction of the voice, your eyes scanning the crowd for a moment before they finally settle on a bald guy. You slip your hand from Endeavor's, striding towards the nosy fuck before quickly grabbing the lense of his camera. Your crush it in one easy squeeze, silence falling among everybody else.

"You're here to take pictures. You already know you aren't getting answers from us, so why set yourselves up for failure?" You glare across the crowd of people, making sure your words aren't directed towards baldy alone. "Snap your pictures, send them to your employers, and shut the fuck up."

Your eyes return to baldy once more, noting the sheer sweat forming all over his head. "Send the bill over to Endeavor's secretary, she'll take care of it." You tell him before flicking the bits of camera you have on your hand.

Returning to Endeavor, you hook your arm on his, and continue walking, waving and smiling for the cameras as if you aren't anxious about what you just did.

Did I do good?

Is he upset I did that?

He hasn't said anything.

Fuck, I won't have a job tomorrow. Great job, self! You've just lost an incredibly high-paying job that allows you to be close with the love of your life.

The big double doors open, revealing a dimly lit opera house. A lot of people are already inside, all of them in full glamour.

"You didn't have to do that." Endeavor finally speaks up, making you swallow nervously.

"Yeah well, I didn't like how he asked that question. As if you're doing something wrong..." Your voice is soft and unsure as you keep your gaze on the carpeted floor. You've settled on allowing your boss to lead you towards your seats.

"Don't you think what I'm doing is wrong?"

His wuestion has you snapping your neck at him, your eyes wide with worry. Does he think that?

"You're divorced, aren't you? And- and they don't know who I am. I don't think this is bad publicity at all." You defend, watching as he side eyes you.

"Anything with me is bad publicity." He mumbles, warm irritation bubbling in your chest as you clench your fist closed.

"Stop that." You demand, finally arriving at your seats.

"Stop what?" His questions goes unanswered for a few moments as you take in the private booth at the top floor. It's only the two of you here, with a button in the middle. Probably for when the client wants to bid.

"Stop putting yourself down. Yes, you've made mistakes. Big ones. Huge ones. But it isn't late for you to change and make up for it all." You look up at him with wide, genuine eyes. "You already admitted your mistakes. All that's left now is to try your damnest to make up for it, to make it up to all the people you've wronged. But you gotta do it with a genuine heart and pure intentions."

Endeavor looks at you with wide eyes, his blue orbs like the color of the sea during the peak of summer. You hold his gaze for a second,

two seconds

three-

The lights dim, grabbing you attention to the stage below.

"Good evening, ladies and gentlemen."

The first few items were boring, so you don't blame Endeavor for not making a bid. A few paintings and tables presented here and there, maybe a couple properties. You feel your eyelids growing heavy until a necklace is presented under the spotlight.

The blue saphire stones completely surround the neckline, and a big red ruby stands out dead center. It looks heavy and too extravagant to wear anywhere you'd go. But it reminds you of your big, quiet boss.

"It's beautiful." You gasp, unable to look away from the piece.

"Up next, we have an exquisite piece that will undoubtedly ignite a bidding war: a mesmerizing blue sapphire rose, intricately crafted with petals that glisten like the ocean depths. At the heart of this stunning bloom rests a fiery red ruby pendant, its vibrant hue creating a captivating contrast. This one-of-a-kind piece combines the tranquility of sapphire with the passionate allure of ruby, set in the finest platinum. A true masterpiece of luxury and elegance, perfect for any discerning collector." The host's voice echoes throught the room.

"Ladies and gentlemen, who will start the bidding for this unparalleled gem at eight million yen?" Immediately, you hear buttons being pressed, with the host yelling out numerous numbers.

"Eight million yen to bidder number twenty-seven!"

"Ten million yen to bidder number forty!"

"Eleven million yen to bidder number thirty-five!"

The price goes higher and higher, making you dizzy. You snap out of your lightheaded state when you see your boss press his button.

"Fifty million yen." He mutters to the microphone, making your heart drop.

Who's he giving that to?

Is there a woman in his life I don't know about?

Maybe it's an apology gift to his wife.

No, he wouldn't be that cheap about it.

"Fifty million yen to bidder number fourteen! Does anybody wish to go higher?" The room is dead silent. "Fifty million going once," Still, nobody makes a peep. "Fifty million going twice." Nada. "Sold! To bidder number fourteen at fifty million yen!"

"I can't believe you just did that." You breathe out, in the brink of a panic at the thought of losing fifty mil in a night.

Endeavor keeps his eyes up front, making you mirror his actions. You feel squirmish in your seat.

The next few items are as boring as the first ones, until your eyes catch a red fur coat on a mannequin. It's as red as Endeavor's hair, and it looks softer than the softest fur in the world.

"Prepare yourselves, esteemed bidders, for a truly unparalleled offering: a one-of-a-kind crimson fur coat. This extraordinary garment exudes opulence and sophistication, crafted from the finest fur of the Crimson Frost Lynx, a legendary creature said to roam the forests of the North." Your brows furrow at the statement.

Aren't those Lynxes extinct?

"Its rich, deep crimson hue is unlike anything you’ve seen, making a bold and timeless statement. Lined with luxurious silk, this coat is not just a piece of clothing but a work of art. Perfect for the most discerning fashion aficionado, it promises to turn heads and capture hearts. Let's open the bidding for this exclusive masterpiece at twelve million yen. Who will claim this ultimate symbol of luxury?" As the announcer ends, only a few buttons are pressed this time.

"Twelve million yen to bidder number thirty-eight! Does anybody wish to go higher?"

"Fifteen million yen to bidder number twenty!"

Once again, Endeavor presses his button, mumbling "Twenty million."

"Twenty million yen to bidder number fourteen!" As the house quiets, the announcer scans the crowd. "Twenty million yen going once' Twenty million yen going twice!"

A soft buzz sounds, your head snapping to its direction. It came from the booth right beside you.

"Twenty five million yen to bidder number fifteen!"

Endeavor presses his button once more, mumbling a headache-inducing "Thirty million."

"Thirty million yen to bidder number fourteen! Thirty million going once! Thirty million going twice! Sold! To bidder number fourteen!" The confusion is written across your face as you turn to your boss.

"A necklace, and now a furcoat? Sir if you wanna crossdress-"

He holds a finger up, effectively silencing you. You bite on your lower lip, huffing when you hear a knock to your right. The both of you turn to the sound.

"Who are those gifts for, Endeavor? Got a new lady friend?"

Hawks.

"Mind your own business." Endeavor grits out before returning his gaze to the stage.

You can't help but feel anxious about the other Hero's question.

Who are the gifts for?

Whenever her eyes twinkle, I can't help but press the button. It's like a magnet and my finger's made of metal. My eyes have been shifting to her everytime a new item is shown, and everytime I get a reaction of awe, my button is immediately pressed.

My secretary should be off-limits. If I were to ever make a move on her, it'd be as obvious as the sun and the backlash would be unforgiving. But my want for her seems to outweigh reason.

Fuck tha backlash. This woman is meant for me.

I can see it in the way she sees me.

When the auction ends, I offer my hand to her once again and we make our way to different offices meant for different bidders. Privacy is their utmost importance here, so I don't have to worry about other people looking at my woman.

"Good evening, Mr. Todoroki. This is your billing for tonight." The man hands a sheet of paper to Endeavor and you take a peek at it.

Two necklaces, a bracelet, a ring, a set of earrings, two more fur coats, a vase, and three porcelein statues of cats.

"Five-" Your eyes nearly bulge out of your sockets. "Five hundred million yen?! Sir, please excuse me, but you do not shit out money." You chastise, your brows knitting in worry.

"Stop yelling, I'm right beside you." Your boss huffs, pulling out a check. He scribbles the amount on it before his signature, sliding it towards the man behind the counter.

"Let's go, I'm tired." Endeavor turns around, walking towards the door. You run after him, struggling in your heels but eventually reach him.

"Oh! Mr. Todoroki! Shall we deliver the goods to your office or your home?" The man calls out.

Your boss stops in his tracks, craning his head to you.

"My assistant will write down her address for you. Deliver it there."

Your jaw falls, it's like your brain has disconnected from your body. "What? No! Just get it delivered to whoever you were gifting them to!"

Endeavor raises a brow, tilting his head to the side. "That's exactly what I'm doing." He says it as if you were an idiot.

"You- I'm sorry?"

"Apology accepted. Make sure you wear that necklace tomorrow night." He pushes the door open, walking down the marbled floors of the foyer.

"What's happening tomorrow night?" You ask, out of breath as you continue to struggle in your heels.

"We're going on a date."

And your heart does a backflip, lifting a middle finger up to the world. Fuck you all! I told you I wasn't delusional!

[click here to read endeavor having his way with you in the private booth]

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k0juki · 4 months

Note

pls some joost fluff (cuddling n maybe some making out??) headcanons bitte bitte🙏

🥴 danke danke for request!

Cuddles

Joost Klein x fem!reader

English is not my first language so feel free to point out any mistakes or errors! More posts here.

A/n: I wrote it a bit different, hope you won't mind much!🙏

Warnings: bit suggestive and making out, so be aware!

Wc: 736

---

Okay, so Lazy Mornings would probably look like this.

Joost loves to sleep in on any day, but what he loves more is when he wakes up to find you still cuddled up beside him, he wouldn't have it any other way.

He'd pull you even closer, wrapping his arms around you protectively, and nuzzle his face into your hair, content to stay tangled up in bed with you for as long as possible.

"Good morning to you too, Joost." You said with a small smile and felt him tighten his hold on you from behind.

"Morning." He whispered and kissed your neck. "I didn't want to wake you up."

"It's alright. I have to get up anyway." You answered and turned in his hold.

"Not possible, you're staying here, with me." He spoke and as he was about to kiss you, you turned your head to the side and said. "No, no, no, I will give you a kiss after we brush teeth."

---

Post-Eurovision Comfort would be absolutely necessary and nobody can tell me otherwise.

After a particularly tough last few days at Eurovision, Joost would come home exhausted.

You'd meet him at the door with a warm hug, leading him to the couch where you'd lay his head in your lap and gently massage his shoulders and back.

"It's gonna be alright Joost, it will be alright." You would softly whisper to him.

He'd close his eyes, letting out a contented sigh as he relaxes into your touch, grateful for your soothing presence.

"Thank you love."

---

Movie Nights are a must.

You and Joost have a tradition of having cozy movie nights at home. He'd make a big bowl of popcorn, and you'd snuggle up together under a blanket on the couch.

As the movie plays, Joost would absentmindedly run his fingers through your hair, occasionally pressing a soft kiss to your forehead.

"I know what you're trying to do Joost. It won't work." You warned him, clearly knowing what he was up to.

"I'm not doing anything love, you're just paranoid." He chuckled and threw himself at you, pinning you down on the couch.

He started kissing you as you put your hands on his shoulders and then to his hair, lightly tugging on it. Joost moaned to your mouth.

He suddenly pulled away and said. "If you're going to tease me like this, then it's not my fault. It's yours."

"No, it was you who started kissing me. It's your fault." You moaned, feeling him kiss your jaw and then neck.

"That sounds fair."

---

Unexpected Cuddles are like:

Whether you're cooking dinner together or just lounging around the house, Joost loves to surprise you with sudden cuddle attacks.

He'd sneak up behind you and wrap his arms around your waist, pressing his chest against your back as he peppers your neck with gentle kisses, making you giggle and squirm.

"It tickles!" You gasped and then you started to laugh, trying to pull away, but he didn't budge.

Now, that he was fully pressed against your back, he turned you around, so you were face to face. He bent down and took your thighs and pulled you up at the counter as you wrapped your arms around his neck for support.

"You realize I'm cooking, right?" You asked him, feeling all hot from sudden friction. Looking into his eyes, you see the hunger behind them.

You bit your lips and pulled him closer to yours lips kissing him with passion, but still soft enough.

"Who's the clingy one now." He laughed against your lips, kissing them again.

"Shut up."

"Make me."

---

Rainy Day Cuddles:

When it's pouring rain outside, Joost would suggest building a blanket fort in the living room.

And guess what? You agreed, because it is fucking good idea.

You'd gather up all the blankets and pillows you could find, creating a cozy nest for the two of you to hide away from the storm.

"It's cozy here." You whispered to him as you laid on his chest. He had his arm around you and his other was in your hair, gently playing with it.

"Yeah, it is." He quietly said and kissed the top of your head.

Inside the fort, you'd cuddle up together, listening to the sound of the rain on the roof and he was sharing stories with you until you both fell asleep in each other's arms.

---

Don't copy or translate my work! Also the picture is not mine! Credit goes to owner!

#joost klein x fem!reader #joost klein x you #justice for joost #joostice #joost klein x reader #joost klein #x reader #k0juki's stuff 🩷#x female!reader #europa #europe #eurovision #imagines #fanfic #blurb

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rahuratna · 2 months

Text

Nanami Kento: Relationship Headcanons (now a fic), Part 11

Warning: MDNI!! Explicit sexual content in this chapter. Details below cut.

Contents: smut, showering together, penetrative (vaginal) sex.

He holds you back with a playful grasp on your hips, but you manage to wrangle him into the bathroom. Every touch on your skin is an alluring little reminder of what awaits you, his fingers lingering, intimate. The resistance he puts up, nuzzling into the crook of your neck and wrapping small lengths of your hair around his fingers, bringing them to his lips, has you fighting every instinct to give in to his advances.

You have never felt attraction for anyone like this before, something you are gradually coming to terms with. It's almost as if there is some gravitational force he exerts over you, the gentle, bruising weight of his presence inside you, around you, something you want to hold so desperately against yourself that you feel an almost physical pain.

The water of the shower is warm and soothing against your aching muscles, the echo of your first orgasm still reverberating through you, the soft trilling through a tuning fork, readying itself for the strike that follows. Kento doesn't join you immediately. You brush damp hair away from you brow and glance back at him, and he is leaning against the shower door, taking you in, his gaze warm and unguarded. There it is; that look that you somehow cannot believe is directed at you, that kindling that leaves your lungs questioning their function.

You reach out to him, fingers stroking down his bare chest, leaving a damp trail of invitation. He feels powerful, weighted with possibility beneath your touch. His gaze clouds slightly, and he steps in, still nude. He has nothing to hide, not from you.

Nudging you slightly until you turn away from him, he embraces you from behind. The sheer strength lying latent in those arms of his, so vital, so filled with living possibility, makes you shudder slightly. You want him to embrace you like this on every day of your future lives, to use your shoulder as a support for his questing chin, to offer him the curve of your spine to rest his tired body against.

You can feel it in the growing firmness against your inner thigh, rising. He pushes you gently away from him, grasping your bar of moisturizing soap. Facing the wall, you feel rather than hear the movements he makes over the soft patter of the warm water on your skin, the slick sounds of soap being lathered over his hands.

He isn't tired now.

His grasp is sudden, firm across your stomach, caressing with strong, deliberate strokes in ways that make your body edge towards him and your breath catch in your throat. He spreads the lather across your torso, and you can feel the hum of approval in his chest as you lean back, surrendering to his attentions.

He moves upward first, covering every inch of your skin he can reach, slipping slowly over the flesh of your breasts, cupping and smoothing until he reaches the peaks of your nipples with a soft pinch. Tracing up along your sternum, he takes the soap to your neck. You tilt your head back as his fingers scrape along your collarbone, wrapping gently around your throat, breath hot in your ear. There is something there, a written message against your skin, fingers tightening briefly, then releasing you.

He wants more. He is now comfortable enough expressing his desire to let you know this; that he wants you pliant, slightly submissive to him, worshipping you as he takes charge.

You can give that to him. Gladly.

You trace over his knuckles lightly, showing him that you're enjoying his attentions, then apply slight pressure. You want him lower, to give the same attention to all of you. He complies with a low murmur of assent, hands now bracing on your hips, squeezing the ample flesh there appreciatively, before moving lower. The power of his grasp as his fingers dig slightly into the flesh of your buttocks has you gasping, bracing your hands on the walls of the shower.

Th soft moan that leaves you at these attentions is enough to spur him on to the final stage of your cleaning, fingers gently tracing the outline of your labia before stroking slowly over, taking his time, spreading water over the already dewy arousal that has been building to slippery slickness down there.

He pays the same dedicated attention here as he does everywhere else, massaging, capturing your flesh in the comforting prison of his palms, pausing in between to replenish the lather he spreads over you. He kneels behind you, leaving you feeling vulnerable and exposed, quickly forgotten as his soft, damp hair presses again the back of your thigh, breath ghosting heatedly over your sex as he strokes down each leg, committing their shape to memory.

Your breathing is ragged now, but you maintain your position, just the way he wants. Something about your obedience in this small matter seems to be riling him up, quickening his own breath. He stands, turning you around to face him, finally, making sure that the warm spray catches you everywhere. You reach for the soap, to return the favour, but he stops you. He whispers against your lips, barely audible in here, in this cocoon of steamed glass and flesh on flesh.

"Don't worry about me. You have work tomorrow. I don't."

"Are you sure?"

"I can clean myself up any time. And besides ... I want to take you again."

He pauses, and this is the first time he has spoken his desire with such directness, such possession, his eyes trained on yours with such need that you feel consumed by him. Leaving him tomorrow morning will be the hardest trial you've faced yet.

When he kisses you, all thoughts of tomorrow fly from your mind, scattering like wheat from a thresher. You are vaguely aware of his hands pushing open the shower door, of the care he takes such that you do not slip in spite of how close he holds you, the fact that he bats the towel away from your hand and seizes you even closer, engraving his answer on the shell of your ear with such startlingly primal need.

"Darling ... please. Want to feel you wet all over, like this."

He lifts you slightly, the damp wicks of hair on his chest grazing your nipples, wet hands catching and slipping on your thighs and buttocks, electricity building like charged static between your bodies. His mouth is so hungry, so sweet, so hot, and he is kissing you like he did that time in your office. But now, there are no clothes separating your entwined forms, no propriety that stops the way his hardened cock presses and slides with the urgency to mate against your folds, no desk preventing your precipitous journey from bathroom to the bed, guided by his reinforced strength.

He only pauses to tug the towel he's somehow maintained hold of beneath you, preventing the sheets from absorbing the dampness of your still wet bodies, and then he is on you. Your body is responding to him as if the rawness of your first orgasm had never existed, thrumming with the delight of fresh arousal, the need to be filled, grasped, taken apart, fucked until you can't take any more by this man you wanted above anything or anyone else in the world.

There is a moment of crushing intimacy, when his body is pressed so completely against yours that you can't imagine being apart from him again, fingernails drawing agonizing lines against each other's skin, and then something seems to click in his mind and he pushes himself up and away, a startled realization building behind the lustful haziness that has overtaken him.

"I ... wait. We need protection."

The tension releases from your frame in a breathless sound of protest, as he draws back hastily with a somewhat tortured expression.

"Kento ... please tell me you brought ... "

"Yes, my love, I did, just - "

You raise yourself slightly, watching the taut lines of his incredible backside flex as he marches over to the hallway where he'd dropped his jacket somewhere on the way to the bedroom. He snatches it up, and a quick rifle through an inner pocket produces the gleaming wrapping of what he's been searching for.

You cock an eyebrow at him.

"Just one?"

He glances up at you, and you watch with delight as that same subtle reveal of mischief in his natural stoic expression is echoed by the unfolding of a whole row of condoms, maybe six in total, as they tumble downwards in a joined section from the first.

"Of course not. Do I ever come unprepared?"

You purse your lips, shoulders shaking with laughter as he detaches one with a flourish and makes his way back to you, carefully removing the wrapper. When he reaches you, you sit up quickly, wrapping your fingers round his wrist, looking up at him from beneath your lashes, reminding him that you are also here to please him.

He takes a shuddering breath, silky, hardened flesh twitching in your palm as you unroll the condom over his length, stroking him with a gentle roll of your fist. His hand slips behind your neck, large palm rising until his fingers are entangled in your damp hair, tugging with eager, but gentle insistence. You allow yourself to be pulled back against the towel, moaning slightly as he covers your body with his, the slick coolness of the condom warming against your folds as he rubs, hard and intentional, against you.

He is panting again, losing himself in the sensation of you, taking control of your body further as he presses you into the mattress. You bless the instinct he has for pure sensuality as his skin, still damp from the shower, slides against yours, bringing you to the height of sensitivity.

Your legs open for him further, and he grunts, adjusting your position so that he can kiss you with messy fervour, rocking his hips against yours, drawing small cries and gasps from your lips. Your fingers are drawing lines of fire against his shoulders, begging him for more, and he complies. You are both operating on pure desire, fueled by an incredible need that blazes under your skin and out, over the shifting, press of hard and soft, wet and tacky, teeth and tongue.

He pauses, breathing hard, his hair tickling your forehead, and then, with agonizing slowness, presses his tip into your entrance. Your mouth opens in pained delight, body tensing reflexively, then relaxing. He is watching you with those beautiful hazel eyes, adoring, even now, misty with uncontrolled lust. He watches as he pushes further, as your head snaps back, a mix of scream and groan escaping your throat as he fills you, stretches you, feels you fluttering around his steely length in that contradictory mix of resistance and eagerness.

He is whispering soft, sweet nothings of encouragement and praise, shifting his hips, reaching down to grip your inner thigh and hold you open for him.

"Th - that's it, sweet love. Like that. Take me - oh. Oh fu - yes. So sweet. So tight. Let me - "

Your mind is barely functioning as he presses himself in, but there is enough coherent thought left to match the effort he is putting in to keep you with him, connected and focused on him.

"Oh God, sweet - fucking - ah. Angel, you're doing so well, I - "

"Y - yes, Kento, need you, need you so - please. Inside me."

"Right th - ah! Ahh, please. Oh God, like that. Want you ... want you, Kento. Stretch me like that - "

He is a large man, no doubt, and you can feel the full extent of that when the light scattering of hair around his base lightly brushes against your sensitive lips, cock bottoming out inside you, flesh bending and flexing hard against the yield of your soft walls. You are so wet that the slide of his entry pushes some of your slick out, and you feel it trickling down the side of you. He does too, and an explosive groan leaves him, his hips bucking forward in a way that makes you yelp and press your palm against his abdomen.

He isn't hurting you; you're much too wet for that, but he is slightly overwhelming, not just in sensation, but the idea behind this, that it is him, Kento, this deep inside you, his arousal keeping you stretched and open like this, his desire for you pressing you down into the bed under his powerful body. Panting, you meet his gaze, your own face flushed and drunk on passion, lip caught between your teeth, sweat now gleaming between the rapid rising and falling of your peaked, hardened nipples.

For the first time, you see Kento really and truly lose his restraint and control, even after everything you have already done with him.

He makes a sound somewhere between a moan and a rough grunt, hands closing like a vice on either side of your waist as he tugs you towards him, and then up, your back arching off the mattress under his guidance. He begins a slow, but punishing pace, drawing back and plunging back in, taking his pleasure, filling your mind with a white static haze that lifts and brushes against the edge of your awareness like a soft, lace curtain, blowing inward against you with every thrust. His movements inside you are a contrast to the uncontrolled manner with which his hands explore your body, greedy, desirous, taking everything he can.

And you'll give it to him.

As overwhelming as he is, you learn his body, his movements. You brace your hands on his shoulders, and he's strong enough to take your full weight, even as you all but hang from him. The arch of your back becomes a sinuous wave, rolling upwards to meet the press of his hips, his lips whispering the litany of a prayer into the curve of your throat before you undulate away from him, then back. It is a cycle of catch and release, the slick sounds between your bodies growing, sweat and the remaining dampness from the shower glistening on your skin and his.

His hands slide beneath your buttocks, fingers digging into your flesh, his grunts evolving to fully fledged groans and huffs. Neither of you is capable of coherent speech now, your movement reduced to that most basic and primal need, to be closer, closer, closer, deeper inside the very fabric of each other. Your eyes flutter open briefly, taking in his face between the dark lines of your lashes. Dampness is building at the corners of your eyes, but not enough to blur out the sight of him, the sinew standing out on his neck, the pureness, keen as a knife edge, of the ecstasy in his expression.

And at that moment, his eyes open, and you fall head first into the honey of that gaze of his.

Your perfect rhythm stutters, and you know it can't sustain itself forever, as much as you want it to. You can feel it in that wild stab of bone-deep pleasure, the heat building in your abdomen, the ache of your trembling thighs.

He pulls you towards him, moving backwards and you cry out as he presses somewhere new, deeper, in this sitting position. Your fingers scramble for purchase on his shoulders, and he soothes you with soft, wordless whispers as his pace slows, still buried inside you. You release him, hands flying behind you to find leverage on his thighs, lifting naturally off him until only the tip of him remains inside. You glance down at him, body quivering, the stretch and burn of him reduced down to the most beautiful fullness.

He looks at you as if you have brought the stars down into the bedroom, revolving around you both in an endless stream, and you know. You know then, that the sight of him, the feel of him, will be with you forever, as you will be with him. That he is committing this sight to memory, so that it will sustain him when you are not there, when distance, violence, the implosion of your world by forces beyond your control are all that remains. But so will you.

And you take the reigns he hands you now.

You bring your body down again, filling yourself with him. His hold on you is more supportive than guiding, and you bury him to the base, lips touching his briefly. You're close enough now to feel the deep, rumbling groan that bursts from him as you roll your hips, allowing his cock to slip out almost fully, before the return of your circular motion takes him back in. The stretch is even greater now, but you're riding him through it, using the muscles of your lower back to lift, swivel, release and again, and again, and again.

His moans become delirious, his arms looping behind you to pull you against him, so that every new movement of your body has your nipples brushing against the hard planes of his chest. The water of the shower has dried on the both of you, leaving new moisture in its wake. The slippery heat of you makes the most obscene noises as you take him, your cries building, building, like the billowing cloud of a dust storm against the horizon of your bedroom walls, a promise of blinding finality.

The world shifts, and you think for a moment that the pleasure has made you pass out, but then your back hits the mattress and he is above you again, snatching complete control away from you. And now his hands are beneath and behind your knees, lifting, and your cries are fevered, uncontrollable, as he drives into you once more. The hard drag of his sculpted abdomen against your pubic bone is pushing you steadily over the edge, your clit stimulated to an unbelievable peak of raw pleasure. Your fingers clutch helplessly at his chest before dropping, slipping around and behind him, dragging him further into you even as you scream for him to stop, no please, can't take any more, can't feel this, too much, its so good, love, love, love you, and -

The storm hits, and your body shakes like a leaf in a gale force wind, each shuddering wave catching you so hard that you can barely breathe, think, see, but you can feel. It's as if the synapse of every nerve has collectively fired an overload into the next, volley upon volley crashing through you as he calls your name, desperate, loving, pleading. You're unable to answer him, but your arms do the work for you, crushing him against you, fingers tangling in his soft, soft hair as you hiccup into his ear, dampness sliding down your cheeks.

The vice grip you have on him brings him down with you, and he roars in your grasp, powerful thighs trembling as his feet dig into the mattress. His chest is heaving against you, face twisted in such complete, unguarded bliss that you can't help the dizzy smile that breaks across your face. Something warm is building inside you, the tip of the condom swelling slightly. Kento plants his arms on either side of you, forehead resting against yours, the hot dampness of his exhalations spreading over your cheeks.

Is this what it feels like, you wonder, as he slumps slightly against you, careful even now not to place his full weight on you.

It is like this, that it happens? That the slide of his rough palm against your cheek, stroking away the moisture, becomes indispensable to you? That the heat of him, the heavy warmth of his body against yours, now so familiar, becomes an indelible mark on the canvas of your life?

It is perhaps here, in the glide of your hands across the broad expanse of his back, soothing the angry lines you've drawn there earlier? Is this how intimacy is born, and remains until we draw our last breaths, remembered forever in the rhythm of hushed, synced breathing, the secret veil that covers your tangled limbs.

This is how Kento becomes your lover, and you his. This is how he lays claim to your body, through every touch of his lips and hands, every stroke of his flesh inside yours. This is how you stay with him, until the small hours of the dawn, breathing in his scent, cradling his head against your stomach, whispering about a future neither of you can be sure about, but desire above all else.

This is how he kisses you, when the sun rises, burnishing his hair and eyelids with a patina of russet gold. The light pours through your fingers, spilling out across the forest-flecked tapestry of his soft, soft gaze and you are richer, in that moment, than anyone on earth.

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makeyoumine69 · 9 months

Text

Being Bateman's Tradwife | NSFW HEADCANON

Pairing: Patrick Bateman x gn!Reader; CW: SMUT, Romance and mostly Fluff. Links: [MASTERLIST]; Song Rec: Isabel LaRosa — i'm yours; A/N: This is dedicated to @batemans-malewife, I hope you like it, my dear friend! 💗 If you find any mistakes regarding gn!reader, please let me know.

At first, the whole idea of being a tradwife made you nervous, especially when Patrick insisted that you quit your job and let him take care of all aspects of your life; not to mention his complex personality and unhealthy perfectionism in almost...everything?

But then, when you finally decided to give it a try, the hurricane of domestic life consumed you faster than you could imagine, and you didn't notice how you got used to making him breakfast in the morning before he went to work.

Bateman would watch you float around his modern kitchen like a fairy, wearing something neat and tight that would make him hard even after the morning sex you had a few moments ago; his hazel eyes would peer over the Times he was reading, not missing a sway of your delicious hips. And when Patrick would trap you between his massive frame and the kitchen counter, you would just gasp and smile innocently, pretending you were not seducing him all this time.

Romance. Oh, sometimes Bateman could be such an old-fashioned romantic, who loved to give you flowers, lingerie and various other gifts because he wanted nothing more than to make his dear wife happy; although his generosity was charming, there were moments when you found it embarrassing, particularly when Patrick took you to Tiffany & Co. and asked you to pick out any jewelry you liked. After all, Bateman enjoyed spoiling you because he COULD afford it.

Living under the same roof as Bateman meant being ready to be caught by him anywhere — even if you were just going to take a shower, this man would catch you there too, hugging you from behind and pressing your wet body against his strong one, kissing your neck while his hard length rubbed between your legs, turning you both to the point of no return when your single moan was enough to ignite his desire.

"Mmhhm-Patrick..." The way you called out his name drove him absolutely crazy, especially with your eyes closed like that, Bateman couldn't resist it.

"Fuck, you look so cute like that," he purred in your ear before tugging gently on your hair to make you arch your back. "Spread your legs wider, yeah, just like that," his praise was sweet as honey, warming your heart and inducing you to forget how to breathe. "Uh, such an obedient little Bunny."

The way his thick cock brushed over your ass would set your body on fire, his tight embrace would make you feel so small and fragile but at the same time so protected and cherished; it was the best feeling in the world to be held in the arms of your beloved man.

Hot and bothered, Bateman would nip at your shoulder blade and give himself a few hard strokes before leisurely pushing himself into your tight hole, relishing the way you clung to his brawny biceps and gasping at how perfectly he was stretching you from the inside out.

"Mmm-so good, you feel so fucking good," his low groan echoed off the shower walls, mingling with the sound of the flowing water. "Relax, honey, I got you."

And he really meant it when he said those words.

Every time you had sex and Patrick saw you struggling to take his huge dick, he would soothe you, but never stop ramming into your malleable flesh, forcing your legs to shake and your throat to spasm in lewd whimpers.

This man was everything to you, and you were everything to him.

Waking each other up by giving oral pleasure would become your favorite ritual that would help you unleash your carnal desires, because there was nothing shameful about making the person you loved feel as good as possible.

Bateman's breath would hitch at the touch of your wet tongue on his swollen tip as you lapped at it like a curious kitten, your coy ministrations would amuse him but at the same time they would be the most powerful fuel for his arousal.

On top of that, there would be evenings of watching his favorite slasher movies, which would turn into something spicy as soon as you snuggled up against his broad chest, seeking protection because you were scared. Patrick would make you sit on his lap and kiss you so passionately that you would moan into his mouth, spurring him on to use his hands more brazenly, squeezing your ass and hips without shame.

And if you were jealous, he wouldn't punish you for it, no. It would boost his ego for sure, but he would do his best to show you that you are the only one he desires at all costs. Bateman would worship every little part of your body or fuck you senseless if it would help demolish any silly thoughts about you not deserving him.

"Baby, look at me," Patrick mused, cupping your sad face in his big palms. "I want you to remember what I'm about to say."

Lowering your head, you closed your eyes for a second before finally daring to look into his dark ones. "I'm sorry to bring this up again. It's just..."

"Shhh, (y/n,) listen," his voice became even more affectionate after your words. "You are my darling, my beautiful wife. I chose you and I don't need anyone else," Bateman's hand slowly traced your cheek, wiping away your shimmering tears. "Because I've found myself in you."

To prove his words, the man sealed your lips with a kiss full of love and tenderness, constantly caressing your face and holding you close.

The two of you wouldn't even remember how long you stayed like that on the Manhattan Bridge, hugging each other so tightly as if you were two magnets. Even if the whole world was against you, you would always have each other, and that was the only thing that mattered.

P.S. Thank you for reading until the end! I don’t have a taglist. You can follow my side blog @makeyoumineagain and turn on notifications to know when I update!

#american psycho #patrick bateman x reader #patrick bateman imagine #patrick bateman #patrick bateman x female reader #patrick bateman x you #slasher x reader #slashers x reader #slasher x you #slasher smut #patrick bateman smut #patrick bateman headcanon #christian bale smut #christian bale x reader #patrick bateman reader #christian bale #patrick bateman imagines #patrick bateman x male reader #gn reader

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woundedoves · 2 months

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How They Would Suck Your Blood: Vampires (Arlecchino, Neuvillette, Blade, Aventurine x GN!Reader) Headcanons Part 1 (NSFW) part 2 part 3

a/n: this took so long to write but im kind of satisfied with it… should i make this a series…

CW: biting, blood play, self deprecating sentiments in Blade’s part, the reader is a switch on Aventurine’s part they bottom for the rest. Not proofread!

Arlecchino

• Whenever she’s in need she simply seeks you out, her nose is especially keen to your smell, and your heartbeat is as easy to find as blinking, you’re so familiar to her that she can find you in 2.3 seconds. Her expression won't change but a small, pleasant feeling blooms in her stomach when she sees the sight of you in her bed, if you’re sleeping, she gives your chin a little scratch to wake you up, looking up at her with tired eyes as she feels your pulse quickening, how cute.

• She likes to have you on her lap the most, the way you squirm as her claws slowly drift towards your crotch, smirking slightly as she feels your already aroused sex, just by being on her lap. Adorable.

• She first grabs your hand after she’s done teasing your sex, and kisses it as gently as she can, her kisses trail up to your neck, giving it one last kiss as she bites down, the sensation has you shivering and pushing your ass onto her crotch as she lets out a satisfied hum. Arlecchino loves the bitter taste of your blood, it isn’t too sweet like how the majority of vampires like it, loves the sting on her tastebuds as she feeds on you; the only thing she lets herself indulge in.

• She also loves feeding on your thighs, oh so graciously working her tongue on your sex as her claws grab and fondles your thighs shamelessly, satisfied as you moan and your thighs quiver in her grip.

• She bites down on your thigh and stops her eyes as they threaten to roll back with euphoria, that bitter taste hitting her tongue as she lets out a heavy breath, your thighs flexing as she runs her claws up and down to soothe you, you watch through half-lidded eyes as she feasts on you. The feeling is ever so orgasmic as you feel yourself getting closer, cumming with a soft gasp as she pulls away from you, some of it getting on her chin. Your eyes widen as you apologize profusely, only to feel hornier when she swipes it off on her fingers and sucks on them; keeping eye contact with you.

Neuvillette

• He only seeks you out semi-comfortably after you’ve been together for at least a year, doesn’t want to impose anything on you, and he doesn’t want you to think he only sees you as food. Even when you smell so good, bounce on his cock while he lets out little whimpers as he feels his claws coming out and his teeth itch his stomach churning with hunger.

• He really wants to hear you cry as he presses his cold body on yours, for you to scream as he bites down, and wants to have you on his cock as he feeds on you, it makes him feel animalistic and ashamed. It’s only when you bring up the topic yourself one day as you two are getting ready for bed, a rare occasion you want to make use of as you tell him that it’s okay, you’re lovers, whatever he needs you’re willing to provide him with it. He slowly sits beside you as he takes your hand in his own, his claws already out as he’s relaxed and needs no reason to hide. He looks into your eyes with anticipation and nervousness, his pretty features twisted with guilt as he asks, “are you genuinely, absolutely, with no doubts…sure about this, beloved?” You smile softly as you nod, “of course, dearest. I wouldn’t suggest it if I were not certain about the matter. I want to know watch and every part of you,” he lets out a breath as he pulls you into a deep kiss, his arms situating themselves on your hips as he lets out a breathy moan into your kiss, already hard and ready to show you all of him.

• He gently lays you down on your shared bed, kissing your neck softly as he undresses you slowly, making you let out a soft gasp that derails into a moan as his fangs graze your skin. He bites down as gently as he can as you cling onto his arms, crying out his name as his fangs pierce your flesh, your body inching upwards towards him as you feel his claws on your ass, keeping you in place. You let out quick breaths as your chest heaves with arousal and adrenaline, it feels so good. Holy shit, how and why does this feel so fucking good?

• He pulls his fangs out slowly as he tries to stabilize his breathing, looking down on your quivering form as he watches the blood trickle down from where he bit down, lapping it up like a starved puppy as he closes his eyes. Your blood tastes so sweet to him, like a fontanian dessert. He peppered your neck with kisses as he pulled his cock out, both of you too horny for prep as he swipes some of the blood from the bite mark with his claws. He gasps softly, entering your tight warm hole; making your body shiver with arousal as you feel his cold cock inside you.

• Both of your moans and the sounds of him pounding his fat cock inside you fill the room as you tell him to feed again, which takes him 2 seconds of consideration as he bites down on your chest, right on your nipple as you pull on his hair with a whine; feeling his cock throb inside you as he feasts on your body.

Blade

• It takes him so much convincing and reassurance to make him feed on you, feeling like a piece of shit as he does so and yet, getting addicted to the taste of you. He feels his fangs twitch as he sees you fresh out of the shower, water still sticking to your body as he feels his cock strain against the fabric of his pants, cursing internally when you look at him and get that teasing look on your face.

• He’s silent as his eyes are focused on your body growing closer, slowly letting the towel drop as you sit on his lap, capturing his lips in a slow yet sensual kiss as you feel his hands hesitantly yet slowly grip your thighs as he lets out a quiet moan inside your mouth. You grind your hips on his crotch as you feel his hard-on, he’s hungry too, you can tell.

• You pull away from the kiss as you undo the zipper of his pants and let his cock out, he looks away in embarrassment as you just grind down on it, not putting it inside you; making him look at you by tapping his chin, “c’mon pretty boy, you’re hungry aren’t you?” you tease as he groans and kisses your neck as gently as he can, his cock twitching when he hears you moan as his fangs graze your skin, biting down as he grinds your ass down on his cock, making you whine at the different sensations, letting him drink as much as he likes; he’d never hurt you anyways.

• He likes to drink blood from your fingers the most actually, and loves sucking on them as you moan while he pumps his fingers in and out of your hole; getting you all relaxed and ready for him.

• Every time he feels a tinge of regret when he’s done with feeding on you, always buys the sweets you personally like. He tried to bake for once and almost burnt down the kitchen, so that’s never happening again.

• You tell him it is just his nature and that it’s actually very pleasurable for you when he feeds on you, only then does the guilt slowly wither away as he lets himself indulge in your body, your comfort, things he doesn’t deserve but selfishly takes anyway even if you tell him you want him forever; he can’t let himself hurt you, you’d never see him again, for your own good. Right now though, you won’t let him think about all of that as you clench around his cock, whining for him to fuck you faster, so he does. His thoughts calm for a short time as he feels his cock throb inside you, his tongue and teeth stained with your blood.

Aventurine

• He’s not ashamed about it so much, it’s in his nature, he has to drink blood to survive; he’s seen ‘normal’ humans do way worse for pure entertainment, so he just tells you straight up when he’s hungry, and if you’d be comfortable with him feeding on you. When you do give him your consent that’s when the real fun begins.

• You fuck into him with your cock/strap as he feeds on you, arms wrapped around you as he loses himself in the taste of your blood and the feel of your length inside him, he feels so fucking full. You cry out as his fangs pierce a bit deeper in his desperation, you see the way his cock throbs as you speed up your thrusts, hitting his prostate over and over again as he closes his eyes and continues to suck your blood; you see his dick twitch a few more times as he cums with a muffled whine, coating both of your bellies with his cum as he rolls his hips so he can feel you deeper.

• He coats his fingers with your blood when he pulls away, if you have a dick, takes both of them in his hand as he watches the way your pre-cum and blood mix together; the sensation of his cock throbbing against you making you whine his name as he coos and kisses the corner of your mouth, leaving a faint bloody lip print on your skin.

• If you have a cunt, he loves eating you out right after he pulls away from biting you, moaning into your cunt as he thrusts his tongue inside you; his chin dripping with your cum and blood as he eats you out like you’re the sweetest dessert that has ever graced his tongue.

• He doesn’t eat regular food that much but when you make it and add a drop or two of your blood on it he’s scarfing it down, he loves your blood so fucking much, He’s fed on other people but fuck, your taste is so unique it has his cock throbbing and his brain numb as he feeds on you; like a drug.

• His prized person, his everything, has no plans of letting you go anytime soon.

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