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satorena · 4 months ago

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#BUILD-A-BLOB !?

bad ☆ summary. good news? your nephew’s birthday gift to you definitely works. bad news? turns out to be a cranky four armed creature that nags at everything you do. good / bad news? he’s smokin’ hot and you wanna fuck him nasty. seriously, what the fuck.

cw. explicit content. foul language. monsterfūcking. blobkuna to true form!kuna. double penetration. anāl. deepthroăting. cunningūlus. pūssy slapping. bāckshots. belly bulge. creāmpie. degradation (he calls you mean things) overstimulation. dumbification. mentions of drug usage. sukuna speaks like he has a stick up his ass. pōrn without plot. 4.4k words.

rena’s ☆ note. guys i’m giggling so hard at the gif HELP

“the fuck are ya starin’ at?”

technically speaking, you think you’re looking at a seven foot monster with more arms than you can count, more mouths than necessary and much more tattoos than you can see. just a minute ago, this entity had been an ugly formless blob with a singular eye and bucked teeth that sat against your window, forming incoherent sentences as “me want water”, “me need light” or your personal favorite, “me want you to fuck off”.

you’d left to check on your plants momentarily, coming back to your living space to find that the blob had transformed into a . . . human? something along the word that you use very loosely.

he stands tall and proud and very naked— though unimpressed, toned arms crossed and ass cheeks facing the world outside. you can see the reflection of his clenched buns through the glass and— is that a fucking tramp stamp?

“i’m thinking. . . what used to be my birthday gift,” you answer slowly, brows pinched in confusion as your head tilts. it’s below you, sure, but you can’t help staring at what’s below him. surely it’s the weed catching up to you because there’s no way that, “is that— holy shit, is that two dicks?”

“perverted woman,” the man (question mark) clicks his tongue, as if he isn’t the one dressed in his birthday suit, asshole bearing for pedestrians outside to file public indecency on you. “your reaction suggests you’ve never witnessed the presence of two at once.”

“well. . . no,” he stares at you as if you’re the one with four arms and abnormally long legs. you crouch down, index finger scratching at the corner of your mouth to analyze it some more. you were curious, nothing more! you feel the multitude of his eyes trailing your movements, daring you to proceed forward. he truly doesn’t know you.

they stack atop one another, though both sizes are nothing to scoff at. packing in both girth and length, they stand tall and semi hardened, with curves to the right. he’s got prominent veins running all over his skin, mushroom tips an angry shade of reddish brown. frowning, you peek your head lower to confirm following suspicions,

his tone is rough along the edges, “i do not possess four testicles.” damn it.

“boo, you suck,” you sigh, indeed disappointed by the confirmation. you’d think a monster with monstrous limbs and monstrous cocks would own monstrous balls. “whatever.” you stand back up on your feet, though you’re met with hard ripples of glistening abs.

“so like,” you pause, now shamelessly staring at his torso with shimmering eyes. he’s ripped with an eight pack, waist snatched like a motherfucker and skin inked like a colouring book. “what do i call you?”

you think you hear him chuckle, “how foolish,” a mouth then appears on his stomach, to which you jerk back from how sudden it was. your brows jump to your hairline, eyes widening as teeth bare at you menacingly. “it is common decency to introduce yourself firsthand. have you no manners in the presence of a king?”

“a who?” you squawk, overwhelmed by the intensity of the situation. this four-armed freak was a king? from where exactly? you shake your head, as if to turn off your inner monologues and quiet the voices down, “right, right. erm, you can call me y/n.”

he repeats your name slowly, followed by a deep chuckle. the rumble of your name against his voice sends a weird tingle down your gut, as you crane your neck upwards to finally look him in the face.

you gulp. damn it, he was attractive all around. though morally questionable, you found his features dashing. sure, there was the weird thing stuck in the side of his face that resembled a mixture of flesh and wood. and yeah, he had an additional set of slender eyes. however, his facial harmony somehow blended perfectly. his facial structure was sharp all around, from his nose bridge to his jawline, and his ears with pierced.

what more could anybody want?

blame it on the sativa or the fact you hadn’t been fucked in a while, but it was your birthday and you want your birthday gift, damn it. there shouldn’t be anything wrong with that— the pulsing at your core had your thighs rubbing together subtly (you hoped) (he smirked when he noticed your legs shifting) (fuck, he already knows).

“you will address me as sukuna, mortal.” he says instead, one of his arms mounting to grasp at a piece of your hair. he’s beefy, big biceps surrounding your peripherals as they flex hard. he twirls your hair between his fingers, and shit, you’re gonna need his nail technician’s reference.

“you talk like you have a stick up your ass,” your voice sounds distant, as distracted as you are, perverted eyes trailing to follow the bulging of his muscles. even his forearm is sexy, a large vein running course beneath his skin amongst others. “you ask for my name and choose to call me mortal? corny.”

“i am not a product of this time,” he riddles, tugging at the strand in his hold. the searing pain of his tug at your hair has you moaning— in agony or pleasure, who truly knows— and before you know it, he spreads the rest of his large fingers at your scalp, “you say i speak as if i have a stick up my ass,” shivers run down your spine when his fingernails scratch at your head, “but really it is you who wants my stick up yours, huh?”

you blink. how the fuck did he know? “th-that’s not even remotely true—”

“do not lie,” another arm lifts to cup at your face. his index rests beneath your jaw as his thumb sits at your chin. you feel the sharp edges of his nails grazing at your skin, “your scent is rather . . . pungent.”

you feel heat quickly spread to your cheeks and your panties effortlessly dampening. he smirks, dipping his thumb into your parted mouth, before scrunching his nose into a whiff, “ah, there it is again.”

the pad of his thumb swipes against your bottom lip, skin collecting your saliva before rubbing the fluid all over your mouth. you feel the tip of his nail poking into the flesh, and your brows furrow, “and you called me the perverted one.”

“that remains true.” another— jeez, how many more— arm snakes at your waist. it creeps below your shirt and sits at your bare skin, a touch so warm it sends jolts of electricity across your limbs. his hand rests at your lower belly, and when a wet tongue drags itself across your sensitive skin, you clamp your lips down around his thumb in a whimper, “you’re an obedient one. i think i’ll have fun with you.”

your brows furrow as your cunt clenches. his smirk deepens and, fuck you really need to stop doing that, “have fun with me?”

“it has been a while since i’ve fooled around with a mortal,” he hums, slipping his thumb out of your mouth. there’s a thin string of saliva connecting from your lips to his fingertip, and you hate how you already crave the salty flesh back in your mouth. “let us see just how weak the human body truly is.”

somewhere along the lines, you find yourself on your knees in your living room, carpet digging into your kneecaps as your fingers interlock at your back. your jaw aches, to the point of snapping as two fat cocks shove themselves down your throat. you breathe through your nostrils as your mouth is clearly occupied, fat tears dotting at your lash line and dribbles of saliva slipping past your lips and down his cocks.

two of his hands grasp at your head as leverage, hips thrusting up and down your throat. the gags that escape you are pornographic, throat muscles clenching around the intrusion. fuck, the strong musk of his pubic hairs cloud your senses and overwhelm your mind— driving you dizzy in arousal.

“loosen up yer throat,” sukuna commands, though you find it contradictory as another one of his abnormally large hands wrap themselves around your throat. he presses just lightly, as if to trace over the bulge of his dicks inside of you, but the lack of oxygen has your body liquifying in heat. you think you see stars, and your pupils start to dilate. “c’mon mortal, don’t pass out on me now— we’ve only just begun.”

easy for you to say, you roll your eyes, though complying to his orders. shit, it’s really hard to breathe but you can’t deny you love how objectifying all of this feels. bounding your own hands back, kneeled in front of this king, hair grouped up in one hand to tug onto. he was using you as if you were merely a toy for his own pleasure, mushroom tips repeatedly abusing the walls of your throat.

your cunt clenches around air, gushing more of your essence against the flimsy material of your panties. his stomach clenches tightly, as do his thigh muscles, the embodiment of man in front of you, destroying your throat.

fuck, your clit throbs.

the king coos at you degradingly, ruby eyes narrowing down at your figure, “awnn, ‘s it too much for ya?” you feel a wad of spit land on your cheek, and despite the nastiness of the actions, the filthiness has you clenching your thighs together. of course he finds pleasure in your desperation, leaning back further into the couch to cock his head at you, “humpin’ on yerself like a desperate slut beggin’ for a proper dicking. how pathetic,”

you nod your head eagerly, as your mouth fails to express just how badly you do want him. he’s so deep down your throat, you swear you feel him near your heart. the sting at your scalp plus the lack of oxygen and your need to have him stuff you full drives you wild with want— so desperate that tears leak through your eyes, stream down your cheeks and land right at his dicks.

“mhm, i’ll take care of ya,” sukuna cuts himself off with a deep groan, sliding further down into his seat. he shifts his hips deeper down your throat, and you gag terribly loud, “you hungry, mortal? open wide and, fuck, take what i give ya—” another grunt leaves him, and as does thick ropes of cum do.

your eyes widen as you’re greeted with hot cum shooting down your throat. it’s creamy, thick and so, so much of it that you’re certain swallowing it all would be impossible. your cheeks hollow as you attempt in your best efforts to gulp him down, the flavour of salty semen bursting at your taste buds.

“greedy bitch,” he chuckles through a moan, grinding his hips in rotations as he rides down the high. sweat dribbles down the crevices of his abs, stomach clenching hard as he empties his balls in you. “thaaat’s it—shit, not fuckin’ bad.”

when he finally pulls out, you gasp loudly for the sweet air you had been deprived of. your body trembles as you release your own hold, hands flying up to grasp at his thick thighs. your fingernails scrape at his skin as your chest heaves.

“y’re so,” you pant, and you can barely register how broken your voice sounds. did his cocks destroy your vocal chords already? “y’re so fuckin’. . . mean.”

“too much?” sukuna cackles, though he’s nowhere near sounding apologetic. his fingers cupping your face swipe at fallen tears on your cheeks. at the feel of a wet tongue licking at your damp skin, you pout in retaliation, brows furrowed and swollen lips puckered, “better get it together, ‘m gonna stretch that pussy out.”

damn it— he had such a way with words. you subconsciously lean your cheek further into his touch, and the grin he gives you is barbaric, “face down, ass up.”

so yeah, you find yourself with your cheek pressed into the softness of your couch, hips pulled up and thighs spread as sukuna feasts. the panties you once wore stuffed in your mouth, they muffle the wanton sounds that rip out your abused throat.

you feel his tongue lap at your folds hungrily, fingers spreading your pussy lips apart for better access. he tongue fucks into your hole, lips sucking and nibbling at your clit with precision. wet heat intrudes your insides and have your stomach tightening.

fingernails scratching at the couch, your back arches as you grasp at anything for support. having multiple mouths should be illegal— you feel tongues trailing all over your thighs and the dip in your back, you feel them rimming at your backside. you even think you feel one diving into your ass.

“mmph, m‘kunaaa!” you wail, toes curling as you push your hips further into his face. you’d never been eaten out as good as he is, nose deep in your cunt as your insides get devoured. you’re so overwhelmed— your puffy clit secreting essence as a slick tongue flicks at the bean.

a hand slaps once, twice at your ass as another pair of hands grip at your plush flesh. “shut th’fuck up,” he speaks into you, the vibrations of his voice sending shivers up your spine. you roll your eyes to the back of your skull, foot shaking uncontrollably. when the hands cupping at your breast begin tugging at your nipples, tongues flicking the stiff bud, you feel your dam erupt.

“mmfuuuuckkk!” you whine, as your cunt gushes in his face. he never lets up, tongue repeatedly scissoring your hole as he swallows your juices. you’re squirting so much it drips all over his face and down the suede couch, down your thighs. you think your soul had been taken by this damn near succubus with how long it takes for you to come back to your senses.

he pulls back with a nasty smack from his lips to your lower ones, using the back of his hand to wipe at any excess fluids, “sweet cunt,” he praises you, and you weakly whine, body drained of energy as you fall limp into the soaked couch. you’re out of it, bottom lip quivering as your limbs tingle in bliss— you feel your lids growing heavier by the second but sukuna is having none of that, “aht aht— where the fuck d’you think yer goin’?”

you feel pair of hands pull your hips back up and another grab a handful of your hair in a steady hold. you’re immediately pulled up on all fours, and you whimper at the firm blows he lands yet again on your ass.

he lifts himself on his knees, and you feel his hardnesses rub against the curve of your booty, “told you i was gon’ stretch this pussy out— ‘m a man of my fuckin’ word.” and shit, you think you push your ass back against his leaking cocks, dragging the beady fluids all over the softness of your skin.

your back arches sinfully as you spit out the soaked panties from your mouth and onto the floor. the slide of his dicks in between your thighs has your stomach heating in lust, the drags of his tips at your clit reenergizing you faster than you’d like to admit.

“mmhm, that’s it,” he grumbles into the supple skin at your neck, grazing his fangs teasingly at the flesh and his warm breath further dampening your skin. the large hands that cupped at your waist now lean you forwards against the arm of the couch, and you suddenly feel a lot of blood rushing to your brain. your arms feel weak as they support your body weight, your back arches like a cat and legs stretched out—

holy shit, are you hanging off the fucking couch?

“give up and you fall face first onto the damn floor,” the king cackles, as if the funniest joke in the world, as if your cunt wasn’t gushing your essence— begging to be filled and tore apart. your eyes widen comically as your knees buckle just slightly at the feel of his cock rubbing at your clenching hole, “try and keep up, mortal.”

sukuna grips at the base of his first dick, aligning it to your entrance. you hear him hiss as he collects your cum around the circumference of his tip, fingernails digging deep into your waist. fuck, that hurts so good. any further deeper and you’re certain he’d draw blood.

now, you were definitely no athlete the way he took his sweet time teasing you both. you had barely finished coming down from your previous orgasm, and with the excessive blood seeping into your brain, you felt yourself dizzying quicker than you’d anticipated, “kunaaa— hurry, i can’t hold out any longer— ngh fuuuck!”

your nails claw at the wooden floor when you felt him finally bottom out. holy fuck— how many inches was he packing? you could physically feel your pussy stretching out to his size, to accommodate to the intrusion of his ruthless cock into your tight hole. the sudden penetration hurt in a way that had your clit tingling, walls clamping down as if to seize him from moving any further.

“mortal,” he groans deeply, and there goes another spank at your ass. naturally, you clamp down harder. “quit— fuck, squeezin’ so tight. how the fuck am i s’posed to dick you down when you’re grippin’ me like a damn vice?”

“‘s too much!” you argue, though your hips roll around as if to adjust to his unreasonable size. you feel more tears flooding your eyes, and your core aches for a mean pounding. “just. . . gimme a minute,”

“a minute?” he repeats, though his tone is far from understanding. there’s a hint of mischievous dripping from words, and shit, he’s already pulling out. your cunt negates your words, desperately latching onto his length as if to reprimand him from exiting any more. he notices your contradiction, “doesn’t seem like yer pussy needs a minute. gotta tell you baby, i don’t like liars.”

your toes curl as he fucks himself back into you. the moan that rips from your throat is far beneath your ability to stop, and you squeeze your eyes shut. he repeatedly pounds into your cunt, the more the strokes, the deeper it goes. he may as well create an indent in your guts with how intense his thrusts are.

“hnng, ohmyfuckkk,” your back only arches further, the delicious burn of his dick stretching your velvet walls driving your mind delirious. his pace is insane— with every meet of his hips at your ass, you jerk forward, tits jiggling in the process. you feel hands spreading your cheeks for better access, alongside a wad of spit land at your cunt, sealed by a nice slap on your reddened ass.

he’s crushing your cervix. it hurts but you don’t want him to stop. it’s all too overwhelming— the repetitive slaps of his heavy balls at your sensitive clit, the way he digs himself deep into you, rolling his hips to reach all sensitive spots inside your spongy self. god, you can hear how sinful the point of contact between both your bodies as it echoes in the living room.

“creamy fuckin’ pussy,” sukuna grunts, tone so low you assumed he was more so speaking to himself. your wetness had submerged into a thick essence of cream around the base of his shaft, further easing the ruthless slides of his dick into your cunt. you don’t ignore how his second cock twitches against your asshole. “you tryna snatch my damn soul? tsk, greedy slut.”

your arms are giving out. your thighs burn and furthermore— your cunt aches, badly. he’s giving and giving, pounding so mercilessly into your pussy it was as if he were mad at you. you’d never been fucked so profoundly, his tip bullying into you so meanly with the additional mix of blood rushing into your head— fuck, you need a break.

still, sukuna seems two steps ahead of you, slithering an extra arm to your nape and gripping at your hair. two other hands drag your hips backwards in place, simultaneously pushing himself back where he’d once been— snug in the comfort of your warm pussy. “nah, nah, don’t you fuckin’ run away. fuckin’ take what i give you—” he holds you by the hips and lifts you up and down on his cock. you feel your feet leave the couch as a majority of the weight you held onto your palms were lifted. “this is what you wanted. mhm, be a good bitch and own up to your consequences.”

you’re babbling, the idea of you being a toy again for his use, the new angle of his cock protruding inside has drool dribbling down your chin and your eyes rolling to the back of your skull. “too d-deep, feel you in my— nghhh, h-heart.”

“‘s that so?” he chuckles heartily, and your mind is too numb to register the weird sting that grows at your forbidden zone. you’re too fucked out to notice what he has in store for you, “let’s double that shit. pierce right through yer mortal heart and mark it my territory.”

a sharp wail erupts, as you’re now filled to the brim with two girthy cocks. it’s an uncomfortable stretch in an area you were far from accustomed to, but in your current position, you’re nowhere near able to stop him. you’re not too sure you want him too— his cocks rubbing against the thin linen that separates your cunt to your ass.

holy fuck, your brain is turning into mush. he’s fucking into you like a madman— both your holes abused by the same pair of hips diving deep into your insides. your limbs feel numb, despite now being lifted into the air. he’s fucking manhandling you, hands holding all regions of your body still as he grinds his cocks in. what an out of body experience— head and tits jerking to the rhythm his hips set.

your guts are on fire, and you recognize this feeling all too well. the same one that has your eyes crossing to the centre of your face and your wet tongue lolling out of your mouth. your breaths are cut short, your tummy bulging into the shape of the king that’s taken control of your entire being.

holy shit.

“atta girl,” sukuna whistles when you spray him unexpectedly. your muscles clench as does your cunt and ass around his dicks, body trembling from an outwardly orgasm racking over you. sukuna never lets up, your crying only spurring him on more, “oh yeahhh, now that’s an ugly face. hah! turns me on.”

you’re snivelling, and you think you feel snot dripping down your nose. through the window where this creature was once an ugly form on nothingness, you watch your reflection. my goodness— how is he not stopping? you feel like you’re gonna die, your soul getting snatched from various regions, the repetitive strokes of his dicks at your most sensitive areas. holy shit, you’re gonna die.

“c’mon, entertain me some more,” he accentuates each word with powerful thrusts, and in return, receives splutters of more juices. you’re leaking like a damn faucet, dripping down your thighs and soaking your soiled couch. your fluids leak down to meet his pair of balls, now lubricated as they slap more intensely at your abused clit.

you’re left wordless. seriously, arms as limp as noodles as they hang to your side, head lolled forward. your mind feels so empty yet so full, the familiar pain of overstimulation now taking over your body. your muscles spasm violently around him, uncontrollably as sukuna takes and takes more of you.

“thankyouthankyouthankyou,” although not entirely sure what you’re thanking him for, the words slip past your kiss-bitten lips and into the thick air. you feel him press his own mouth at the column of your sweaty back, and your chants continue, “thankyouthankyou—”

“what an obedient lil thing,” sukuna coos, and you feel an extra tongue flick greedily at your tight bundle of nerve. your body begins to seize, stomach caving deeply in as you succumb to the pressure, “who’s my good bitch, hmm?”

“m-me.” you answer so weakly that it unsatisfies him. the tongue torturing your clit now bites down onto the bud and you cry out loudly. shit, you’re squirting again.

“i said,” he repeats himself with more finality. the wet squelching sounds of his cocks bullying at your holes overpower his own voice, and you can’t stop the shaking of your body. and with every pause, his cocks slam further and further in, “who’s. my. good. bitch.”

“meeee!” you hic, drool be damned as it seeps past parted mouth and down your throat. god, this was so above you and yet, here you were, getting fucked like your life depended on it. it hurts, hurts so good that you simultaneously want to push and pull from his embrace.

he holds you up higher, and your legs wrap around his waist with your back tucked into his chest. his hands slide from your waist to your inner thighs, now holding you tight against him. your head falls back onto his shoulder and in the midst of your daze, you feel a fingernail trailing down the slope of your neck.

“yeahhh,” he chuckles darkly, eyes narrowing onto your fucked out figure. his eyes then flick to the imprint of his cock penetrating at your belly, followed by the inconsistent tremors of your body. “‘s what i fuckin’ thought.”

somewhere along the line, you’re left boneless in his strong hold as he fucks and fucks and fucks. he’s everywhere at once, a presence so dominating that you’re left as if you have no other choice but to surrender. but that’s exactly all there is to it, no? a king using his pussy to his satisfaction.

“‘m gonna breed this slutty body full of my cum, make you mine. cause that’s all yer good for— ain’t that right baby?” you nod, because of course you do. he’s pounding some more and more, and the warmth that fills your belly to the brim is anything but surprising. he’s grunting in your ear, a string of profanities flowing into the air. he’s cumming so much from both cocks that it leaks past your bruised holes.

his hips roll some more, and both your cunt and ass clench around him greedily, milking him out for every drop he’s worth. he hums against your damp face, dragging the tip of nose through a multitude of fluids. you have a weak smile gracing your lips, and his arms tighten possessively around your tinier frame, “happy birthday indeed, mortal.”

oh my god, you’re gonna die.

. . .what the fuck did i just write.

#rena☆star.#fraudkuna core!#jjk smut #jujutsu kaisen smut #jjk x reader #jjk x you #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen x you #sukuna ryomen #sukuna ryomen smut #sukuna ryomen x reader #sukuna ryoumen x reader #sukuna ryoumen x you #sukuna ryoumen smut #sukuna smut #sukuna x you #sukuna x reader #sukuna x y/n

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ddejavvu · 4 months ago

Note

bff james w no boundaries — his main love language is physical touch and that includes biting,, like 😭 you’ll just be minding ur own business n he’ll bite your shoulder or anywhere really.

hope ur doing well angel. ❤️

"Here, Remus," You offer up a spoon of blueberry tart to the teenage werewolf, unphased by now at the closeness of your friends. Perhaps at eleven you'd be worried about swapping cooties when sharing spoons, but now you're only worried about plumping Remus's gaunt frame up again before the next full moon.

You extend the spoon towards Remus but in doing so you have to bypass James who's sitting beside you on the bench. You'd expected him to fake a lunge for the sweet, but when he opens his mouth and sinks his teeth into what's in front of him it happens to be the flesh of your arm.

"Hey-ow!" You yelp, and despite your word choice, it doesn't really hurt. It's more of a grasp than it is a bite, just enough force to pin your arm between James's infuriatingly perfect teeth.

"Prongs," Sirius's face screws up in what you're sure is a mix of embarrassment and confusion at his friend's behavior, but perhaps there's a slight possibility of fear there, too. Fear that James has become a cannibal and the boy with the bed next to his will suffer tonight.

"That's good." James retracts his bite as quickly as he'd dished it out, smacking his lips like there'd been something swallowed and enjoyed, "That's good arm."

"You're a freak." Remus drawls, finally taking the tart from your spoon and letting the flavors wash over his tongue, "Pads and I are supposed to be the biters. Deer are just supposed to run away from everything."

"That's not true." James defends his animagus with a passion while Sirius snickers across the table, "Deer fight with their antlers. Sometimes deer fight so hard that their antlers come off. And deer do bite sometimes, thank you very much."

"Only during mating season." Sirius references the copious research they'd each done into their animal counterparts, "Don't steal another page from the dog book and start humping her leg, Prongs."

"It is not my mating season!" James exclaims, just a bit too loud for the social setting you're in. Your cheeks are blazing but thankfully James is making a fool of himself enough that no one is studying you. "I'm simply overcome with the urge to sink my teeth into people when I'm feeling particularly fond of them. Y/N's making sure Moony's stomach isn't flatter than his ribcage, and I appreciate that. Only a good woman shares her blueberry tart. Hence," He grins, more of a baring of his teeth than a smile, "I bite."

He leans down to take a chunk out of your shoulder this time, and you feel the sharp-but-gentle pricking of his teeth even through three layers of clothing.

You have the time and the power to raise your shoulder and clock James in the teeth with your bone. But you refrain, and perhaps that's why Sirius finally latches onto you instead of James.

"Careful, darling." He warns, his own canines glinting in the candlelight above, "Deer can go rabid. I'd make sure you're not contaminated with his saliva if I were you."

"Too late." James grumbles around the meat of your shoulder, raising his head quicker than you can react to lick a fat, wet stripe across your face, "I'm not rabid, Pads. But I can see why you dogs do the licking thing. It's not bad."

"Yes it is." You decide, smearing away his sticky spit with the sleeve of your button-up, feeling the phantom sensation of his teeth on your skin, "And if you do it again I'll bite you back."

"Kinky, you two." Sirius kicks you beneath the table, a wicked grin on his face, "Remus, I think we should take our meal elsewhere. Prongs and Y/N are about to start necking right in front of the pastries, and that's not the glaze I prefer on my donuts."

#james potter x reader #james potter imagine #james potter scenario #james potter oneshot #james potter one shot #james potter one-shot #james potter headcanon #james potter headcanons #james potter hc #james potter hcs #james potter fanfiction #james potter fanfic #james potter fic #james potter blurb #james potter drabble #james potter dialogue #james potter fluff #james potter x reader fanfiction

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catchastarorten · 8 days ago

Text

—Hair tie

Pairing: Kang Dae-ho x lover!fem!reader

Summary: why hunt down his own hair ties when he could just steal yours instead?

Content: fluff, kisses, no games au, Dae-ho being a hair tie thief, english isn't my first language, mistakes should be present, sorry!

Word count: ~ 0.9k

The drawer was almost empty again.

You frowned, pulling it open further, as if the motion would magically summon the missing hair ties back into existence. But no, there were just two lonesome bands left. Your favorite blue one—gone. The black one that never snagged—gone.

You always kept your hair ties in a little wooden drawer, nestled among your earrings. But now, as you reached for one to tie up your hair with before washing your face, you only found there were two left.

You were meticulous about these things, always buying extras and keeping them in neat little rows. And yet, they seemed to vanish.

At first, you didn’t think much of it. You figured you might’ve misplaced them or accidentally lost a few. But then, you saw him—Dae-ho, the sweet, clingy man you adored—sitting on the couch with one of your black hair ties securing his messy ponytail.

You stared for a moment, confused. “Is that… mine?”

Dae-ho looked up from his book, his lips parting slightly as he realized what you were pointing at. Then he grinned sheepishly. “Oh… yeah. I couldn’t find mine, and, well, yours was just there…”

“Dae-ho!” you laughed, more amused than annoyed. “You could’ve asked.”

“I was going to put them back,” he said, looking so guilty you almost felt bad for teasing him. Almost. “I didn’t think you’d notice.”

“Of course I’d notice. My stash is gone because of you.”

He frowned softly, putting the book down and opening his arms, as if begging for a hug after being scolded by you.

His hand reached up to tug at the tie in his hair, looking up at you as you made your way over to him with a small sigh. “Do you want this one back?” he asked softly, worried you might actually be upset at him.

You shook your head as his arms wrapped around you, unable to resist when he started spreading little kisses on your forehead and temple. “No, you can keep it.” you hummed.

From that moment on, it became a habit—one you found a bit endearing, if you were being honest. Whenever Dae-ho needed a hair tie, he’d raid your wooden drawer without a second thought.

Sometimes he tried to be sneaky about it, but he wasn’t exactly subtle. You’d catch him rifling through your things, his broad shoulders hunched like a child caught stealing cookies.

Other times, he didn’t bother hiding it at all, simply plucking one from the drawer with a soft grin and a quick kiss on your lips—then a kiss on your face, as if that would make you forgive him. And it always did.

He didn’t mean to always steal your hair ties, not really. It was just... easier for him to snatch one from the drawer than to hunt down his own.

You didn’t really mind. Not on most days, anyway.

One evening though, you did need a hair tie—desperately.

You were halfway through making dinner when a gust of wind from the open window sent a strand of hair into your face. Cursing under your breath, you tucked it behind your ear, only for another strand to escape. The kitchen was too hot, the recipe was more effort than you’d anticipated, and your hair, usually manageable, felt like an uncooperative child refusing to behave.

“Dae-ho!” you called, wiping your hands on a dish towel.

He appeared in the doorway a moment later, his expression somewhere between apologetic and guilty, as if he already knew what you called out to him about. His hair was tied back, as usual, and you could see one of your missing hair ties keeping it in place.

“Yes... love?” he asked, his voice so soft and warm it nearly melted your resolve.

“I need a hair tie,” you said, folding your arms. “And it seems you’ve taken all of mine.”

He blinked, then glanced down at his wrist. You hadn’t noticed before, but he had a spare hair tie looped around it—your hair tie. Without hesitation, he pulled it off and handed it to you, a small smile tugging at his lips.

“Here,” he said. “I always keep an extra for you. Just in case.”

For a moment, you were too stunned to speak. You stared at the hair tie in his hand, then back at his face. He looked so earnest, his eyes warm and full of love. It wasn’t just that he had thought to keep a spare for you—it was the fact that he had done it so naturally, so effortlessly, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world, even if he had taken it from you in the first place.

You took the band, your chest tightening with a wave of affection. He stepped closer to kiss the top of your head, his arms looping around your waist. “Don’t be mad. I love you.” he murmured softly, his nose buried in your hair as he nuzzled against you.

“I love you too, you thief,” you muttered, though there was no bite to your words. How could there be, when he was wrapped around you like that? Adorable and impossible to be mad at.

#kang dae ho #kang dae ho x reader #kang daeho #squid game #player 388 #kang daeho x reader #squid game fanfic #squid game fic #squid game imagine #squid game x y/n #squid game season 2 #squid game x reader #squid game x you #dae ho #dae ho x reader #dae ho fluff #player 388 x reader

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orangeblossomsintheair · 16 days ago

Note

oh could you write something cute about the reader and Lando please, maybe something funny where the reader says "oh yeah I'll do this but for that you'll buy me a Porsche" and Lando actually buys her a car 💜

BRAND AMBASSADOR | LN4

wc : 3k

an : slowly working through my requests yippie! im not too sure about this but i hope its alr :'>

It was meant to be a joke. Really.

But Lando didn’t know how to take a joke.

For weeks, he’d been pestering you to do a photoshoot with him for Quadrant.

“Brand image, baby!” he insisted, arms flailing as if that explained everything. “Power couple vibes! You and me, absolutely dominating the internet. Imagine the engagement!”

“My manager would actually drop dead if I did a hoodie campaign.”

“Oh come on, baby, just one photoshoot,” he pleaded, leaning so far over the kitchen island that he looked like he might slide right off. “Just a few pics in Quadrant stuff! Hoodie, joggers, maybe the bucket hat if you're feeling spicy-"

You didn’t even look up from your phone. “Lando. I’m booked for the next eight months. Vogue is flying me to Paris next week, and Dior wants me in Milan by the weekend. I don’t have time to play influencer in your gamer merch.”

“It's not gamer merch!” Lando gasped, clutching his chest like you’d stabbed him. “It’s- it's… lifestyle! Culture! Gaming and racing fusion!”

“That’s cute,” you said flatly, scrolling.

Lando narrowed his eyes. “You didn’t even look at the new designs I sent you.”

“Because it’s just another hoodie, baby.”

He gasped again, louder this time. “Just another hoodie?”

“Oh, I’m sorry- hoodie, but make it Formula 1.”

“Wow.” He pointed at you. “I cannot believe this slander. From my own girlfriend.”

“Your supermodel girlfriend,” you corrected without missing a beat.

“And yet, I’m still here, humbly begging for crumbs of attention.”

You didn’t even blink.

And that’s when you heard it. The soft shuffle of socks against hardwood floors.

You looked up just in time to see Lando drop dramatically to his knees in front of you, arms sprawled over your thighs like some lovesick Victorian maiden.

His chin rested on your knee, staring up at you with those big, stupidly pretty eyes.

“Please.” His voice dropped to a pitiful whisper, like he was auditioning for a charity ad. “Do a Quadrant shoot with me.”

“Oh my God, Lando- get off the floor!”

“No. I live here now.” He clung tighter. “Photoshoot. Please, baby. You could be the face of the brand! Imagine it: you in my merch, absolutely carrying. We could finally replace Max’s ugly mug on the website-”

“Lando!” You laughed, swatting at him.

“It’s true! The customers deserve better!”

“You own the brand. You’re supposed to be the face.”

"But you’d look so good in my hoodies," he said, practically drooling at the thought. "God, you in joggers? Maybe one of those cropped sweaters? The internet would lose its mind.”

You stared at him. Long. Hard.

“…Fine.”

His eyes lit up, stars in aquamarine. “Wait, really?”

“But it’s gonna cost you.”

Lando blinked. Sat up straighter. “How much?”

You smirked, dragging your perfectly manicured nails through his curls, watching him melt like butter.

“A car.”

His entire posture changed. He sat up straighter, interest piqued. Now you were speaking his language. “Which one?”

You almost choked. “Excuse me?”

Lando leaned in, eyes sharp now. “Which. One.”

Oh, he was serious.

You blinked, regrouped, and leaned back like you were simply ordering off a menu.

“LaFerrari.”

Silence.

“The red one. Wine red. Matches my nails.” You admired the burgundy polish glinting under the light. “I’d look good in it.”

Lando didn’t even blink.

“Deal.”

Your head snapped toward him. “What?”

“Done.” He stood up, dusting off his sweatpants like you hadn’t just asked for a multi-million-dollar hypercar. “I’ll have the keys for you next week. Photoshoot’s on Friday.”

“Lando, that’s a LaFerrari-”

“And?”

“It’s like… a $3 million car!”

He tilted his head. “Do you want it in the garage or delivered to your place?”

You opened your mouth. Closed it. Opened it again.

“…You’re insane.”

Lando leaned down, smirking, and kissed your forehead. “And now you’re stuck with me.”

“…I want full creative control over the shoot.”

“Baby, you can set the studio on fire if it makes you happy.”

“And you’re paying for my glam team.”

“Obviously.”

You stared at him, still trying to process how you had accidentally hustled a hypercar off your billionaire boyfriend in under five minutes.

“And I want full rights to veto any photo where I look bad.”

“Oh, baby, you never look bad.”

You squinted. “If I show up and it’s just me in some hoodie in front of a brick wall-”

Lando’s hands cupped your cheeks, deadly serious. “You will be in a hoodie… in front of a gaming PC.”

You slapped his hands away.

—

You were never supposed to take it this far.

The photoshoot was meant to be a joke.

A little bargaining chip to shut Lando up for five minutes. You didn’t think he’d actually pull it off.

Yet here you were.

In a studio. In a Quadrant hoodie. In sweatpants.

And to make it worse, Lando was treating this like he was shooting for Vogue.

“Okay, okay- pause! Can we fix the lighting on her left side? I need more contrast, more mood. She’s selling the hoodie but not the vibe.”

You slowly turned to glare at him. “Lando. I am wearing a hoodie. There is no ‘vibe.’”

“There’s always a vibe!” Lando spun around to the photographer. “Tell her there’s a vibe.”

The photographer, who was clearly riding the paycheck wave, gave you an awkward smile and a less than enthusiastic thumbs up. “Yeah. Big vibe.”

You groaned and adjusted the hoodie, tugging the hood up over your head. “Lando, I walked for Dior last month. Dior. And now I’m here, dressed like a Twitch streamer in front of a gaming PC.”

Lando gasped. “First of all, streamers WISH they looked this good. Second of all, don’t disrespect the setup. That’s a triple-monitor, RGB-lit, water-cooled rig worth more than my life.”

“Yeah, well, it better be. Because I’m dying inside.”

“Okay, can we get a shot of her sitting on the desk? Like, casual, but make it fashion. Maybe holding a controller? No- headset! Baby, put on the headset.”

You stared at him. “You want me to wear a gaming headset in a fashion shoot?”

“Yes. Gamer girlfriend aesthetic. Internet eats that up.”

“I haven’t touched a console since the Wii came out.”

“And that’s the fantasy!”

—

Lando couldn’t stop staring.

The moment you put on the damn headset, he knew he was in trouble.

He’d been so smug, so proud of himself for getting you to agree to this ridiculous photoshoot.

But now? Now he was fighting for his life.

Because there you were, sitting on the desk in a Quadrant hoodie, wearing his brand, looking so effortlessly good that it was like the universe was punishing him for ever thinking this was a good idea.

It wasn’t just the way the hoodie hung on you, oversized and perfect, or the way you pushed the headset into place like you were made to wear it.

It was the thought behind it.

You were wearing his stuff.

And that did things to him.

Very Dangerous things.

Lando dragged a hand over his face, trying to snap himself out of it, but it was no use.

His gaze betrayed him, sliding back to you as you leaned back on the desk, legs crossed, your smirk telling him you knew exactly what you were doing to him.

“Lando,” you said, your voice teasing and smooth, “you okay over there, baby?”

He tried to play it cool. “Yeah. All good.” His voice cracked halfway through, and he coughed to cover it up.

But he wasn’t fine.

Not even close.

His hands were clammy, his heart was pounding, and he was hyperaware of the fact that he was growing harder by the second.

Oh, this was bad.

You shifted on the desk, leaning forward slightly, the motion drawing his eyes to your legs before snapping them back to your face.

That cocky little smirk was still there, your stupidly pretty eyes glinting with amusement.

You were enjoying this. Brat.

“You sure?” you pressed, tilting your head.

His voice was higher this time, strained and barely holding it together. “Yep. Fine. Totally fine.”

You didn’t buy it for a second. “Lando…”

“That’s it,” Lando muttered, voice tight, cracking slightly with frustration. “Break! We’re taking a break.”

His words were sharp, a contrast to the usual smooth confidence he exuded.

Without waiting for any response, he grabbed your wrist, dragging you away from the set with a sense of urgency that didn’t match the cool composure he usually carried.

“Lando, what the-”

“Not now,” he interrupted, low and tense, as he pulled you into a nearby storage room.

The door clicked shut with an almost deliberate force, the sound of the lock turning echoing in the small space.

You barely had time to gather your thoughts before he was in your space, his breath coming fast, his chest rising and falling against yours.

“Do you have any idea what you’re doing to me?” His voice was low, strained, his hands finding your waist, gripping tight, enough to bruise.

A slow smile spread across your lips. “I think I’ve got a pretty good idea, yeah.”

Lando’s forehead pressed against yours, eyes squeezed shut for a moment as if trying to center himself.

His breath fanned across your lips, shaky and uneven, and you couldn’t help but notice the way his chest seemed to rise and fall faster with every breath.

“You’re a brat,” he muttered under his breath, voice raw, yet edged with something almost desperate.

“You’re the one who wanted me in your merch,” you teased, your fingers curling into his hair as you leaned into him, feeling the heat of his body.

“Yeah, well…” His hands slid lower, pulling you closer, his fingertips burning against your skin. “Now I’ve got more than I bargained for.”

The words barely left his lips before his mouth found yours.

The kiss was messy, urgent, his lips urgent against yours, like he couldn’t get enough.

You didn’t need to think. Your body responded immediately, hands moving to pull him closer, the heat building.

The press of his body against yours was relentless, hard and desperate, as he deepened the kiss.

His hand slid down your thigh, pulling it up to hook around his waist, while the other traced a slow, deliberate path along your jaw.

His breath fanned across your skin, shallow and uneven, each exhale carrying a heat that set your nerves ablaze.

“You don’t fight fair,” he murmured against your lips, his voice rough, edged with a hunger that made your stomach flip. His mouth moved to your neck, leaving a trail of fire in its wake as his teeth grazed your throat.

Your lips curled into a smirk, your nails raking across his back just enough to make him shudder. The sound of his sharp inhale sent a rush of power through you.

“Neither do you,” you whispered, leaning closer, your breath mingling with his as your fingers found the hem of his hoodie, tugging it higher, your touch skimming over his skin.

“God, you…” His voice broke, his words catching in his throat as he crashed his mouth back to yours.

The kiss was harder this time, almost frantic, as though he couldn’t get enough of you.

His hands moved with purpose now.

Demanding, claiming, leaving no part of you untouched.

Your nails scraped against his back again, dragging another groan from deep in his chest, a sound so raw and desperate it made your knees weak.

His hips rocked against you, slow and deliberate, each movement sending shockwaves through your body.

“Careful, Norris,” you teased, your voice breathless but still carrying a hint of mischief as you pulled back just enough to meet his gaze.

His eyes were dark, pupils blown wide. A quiet intensity that you'd seen more than once.

“You’re starting to look a little… well, territorial.”

For a moment, he froze. His chest heaved with every ragged breath as if he was trying to regain control.

Then his lips twitched into a sly, almost dangerous smile, one that sent a thrill through you.

“Maybe I am,” he murmured, his voice low and rough, each word carrying weight. His hand slid to your waist, pulling you even closer, making any distance between you disappear.

The words sent a shiver through your spine. But it wasn’t fear. It was something else, something exciting, something that only made you want more.

His lips found your neck again, pressing soft, burning kisses against your skin.

His teeth grazed over your pulse, just enough to send a jolt through you, sharp and unexpected, making your breath catch in your throat.

You tilted your head to the side, giving him more access, fingers threading through his hair, pulling him closer as you whispered, “Everyone’s going to notice, you know. You weren’t exactly subtle when you dragged me off like that.”

The corner of his mouth curled into a grin, but it was dark now, and there was a sudden pressure in his hands as he adjusted his position against you. “Let them notice,” he said, his voice thick with something unspoken.

He kissed down your neck, his lips trailing lower, his breath hot against your skin. “I don’t care. They can see whatever they want.”

The words sent a wave of heat rushing through your body, and you couldn’t help but arch into him, your nails scraping lightly over his back.

—-

When it was over, you leaned back against the wall, your chest rising and falling as you tried to steady your breath.

Lando, however, was already standing in front of you, his hair tousled, his hoodie still hanging off his frame in a way that somehow made it look even better on him than it ever had before.

He bent down casually to scoop your underwear from the floor, dangling them in front of you with a shit-eating grin plastered on his face.

“Come on, love,” he said, his voice rough and teasing, still thick with exertion. “Don’t leave me hanging. Put these back on before we go out there.”

You shot him a glare, snatching the fabric from his hand and hurriedly slipping it on, feeling the heat rush to your face.

Lando leaned back against the wall, watching you with a cocky, self-satisfied grin. “Still dripping with me,” he murmured, but the rasp in his voice made your stomach flip. You felt your cheeks flush even more.

You rolled your eyes, tugging the hoodie down to hide your body and fix your composure. “You’re disgusting.”

“And yet, you love me,” he replied with a wink. “Guess that says something about you too.”

The studio lights were still dimmed as you walked back in, legs slightly unsteady. You caught yourself on the doorframe, trying to keep your cool, but the feeling between your legs was still fresh, raw.

Lando followed you, smirking like a cat that had just caught its prey. He leaned against the wall, eyes on you as his grin grew wider. “Fix your hair,” he said, voice dripping with amusement. “You look like you just got fucked.”

You barely suppressed a laugh, brushing your fingers through your hair and pulling it back into something that at least resembled “done.” “Gee, I wonder why,” you muttered under your breath.

Lando raised an eyebrow, clearly enjoying the way you were still trying to play it cool. “Hey, I didn’t hear you complaining.”

You narrowed your eyes, about to retort when Lando took a step forward, his smirk never fading, and pulled you close. He kissed you softly, lingering, the kind of kiss that made it hard to remember where you ended and he began.

“Come on,” he murmured against your lips as he pulled away, the mischief still dancing in his eyes. “We’ve got a photoshoot to finish.”

—-

Months passed.

The LaFerrari didn’t show up.

Not that you cared. Really.

Sure, it had been a fun little joke—“Pay me in a LaFerrari or I’m not doing this shoot”—but you never expected Lando to actually follow through.

He said he would but Lando also forgot to stock up on groceries some days so you didn’t take it to heart.

Besides, it wasn’t like you had time to think about it.

Your schedule was relentless: fashion weeks in Paris, Vogue shoots in Milan, fittings for Dior in New York.

You were barely home long enough to unpack, let alone pine after a car.

It wasn’t a big deal.

Until one night, after a particularly grueling flight back from London, you pulled into your driveway and-

You slammed the brakes.

Because there it was.

A LaFerrari.

Burgundy red. Like aged wine. Like sin and velvet had a baby and parked it outside your house.

It gleamed under the porch light, shameless and expensive.

For a full minute, you did nothing but stare, slack-jawed.

Then you slowly got out of the car, leaving your bags in the trunk.

“Lando,” you muttered, pulling out your phone.

You called.

He picked up on the second ring.

“Hey, baby- what’s up?”

“You left a LaFerrari on my driveway.”

“Oh! You got home?” He sounded way too casual.

“Lando. There is a multi-million-dollar car parked outside my house.”

“Yeah, about that. It’s yours. Obviously.”

“…You’re joking.”

“Would I joke about something this expensive?”

“Yes.”

“Fair. But not this time.”

You stared at the car again.

“Are you serious? After months?”

“It takes time to deliver a LaFerrari!” Lando said, his voice way too serious for a man who had just been exposed.

“I had to get it customized, too. Your name is literally engraved on the side. And then there was the whole issue with cargo. Did you know they’re super strict about how cars are transported? I had to make sure it wasn’t gonna get dented, and the shipping company I trust didn’t have any available slots until-”

“I thought you were joking, Lando!”

“Well, I wasn’t,” he replied confidently. “You said you wanted a LaFerrari. You said ‘make it red wine,’ so I made it red wine. I also got the seats customized with carbon fiber inserts and-”

You groaned in disbelief, interrupting him. “You literally bought the car, customized it, and shipped it to my house."

Lando blinked, unfazed. “Well, yeah. Obviously. Did you think I was kidding about that part?”

“Yes! It’s a LaFerrari! Who even does that?! It’s absurd!”

"Clearly me.” He paused. “Check the glove compartment.”

“What?”

“Just do it.”

Suspicious, you approached the car, heels clicking on the pavement. You opened the door.

God, even the door sounded expensive- and popped the glove compartment.

Inside was a tiny Hot Wheels car. A red LaFerrari.

Taped to it was a sticky note.

“Just in case this one wasn’t enough. - Lando”

You stared at it.

You looked back at the LaFerrari, glinting under the sun like some ridiculous, over-the-top love letter.

“…I’m taking it to the Dior fitting tomorrow.”

“You better.”

“…Is this why you were ignoring my texts last week?”

“I wasn’t ignoring you! I was busy coordinating with Italy!”

“Oh my God.”

#x reader #formula one x reader #formula one #formula 1 #formula 1 x female reader #formula 1 x reader #lando imagine #lando x y/n #lando x you #lando x reader #lando norris #ln4 fluff #ln4 imagine #ln4 fic #ln4 #ln4 x reader #ln4 x y/n #ln4 x you #ln4 fanfiction

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rockingbytheseaside · 8 months ago

Text

✦ You surprise them with terms of endearment in their language

(Or, pretending that Teyvat uses certain languages based on the regions.)

Pierro, Capitano, Dottore, Scaramouche, Pantalone, Childe

✧ You don’t remember what prompted you to emit this word specifically, however, its occurrence was as natural as the auroras in the Snezhayan sky. During a typical day, when you were casually conversing with Pierro, you just replied with:

“Of course, just be careful, mel.” (honey)

It was out before you could register it, and you hoped he didn’t catch on. But it's known that nothing passes by the Jester unnoticed. Pierro’s gaze was uncharacteristically stunned, yet it softened the moment he turned to you.

“It’s been… centuries since you called me that.”

You averted your gaze away in shame, muttering a small apology. But the Director stepped closer to you, his gloved fingers brushing underneath your chin to look you tenderly in the eyes.

“No, no. I do not seek an apology. You often called me melimelum (honey apple) during our days of guilelessness. Go on. Utter these words for me once more. I must know whether you remember them as much as I do.”

Meeting his gaze, you stammered upon your words but managed to convey “mi mel” (my honey) for him again despite your coy disposition. The Jester smiled as if an eon-long frost had been melted off his heart. Thus, he leaned closer to relish your lips in his, whispering.

“That’s more like it, corculum (sweetheart). These words are always sweeter when uttered by your lips.”

✧ It is no one's surprise that you and Capitano participate in convivial challenges. Who else would match the harbinger’s fierce ambition for competition if it weren't for you, his partner? From duels, training, and games, to even… endearing nicknames. Yes, just loudly calling each other cute nicknames until the other gives up, in the privacy of your own home.

“You may be the strongest man in Tevyat, Capitano, but!” - you loudly proclaimed “I can still defeat you in a battle of wits.”

“Your words bring forth a challenge that I seek, my beloved. If you dare to challenge me, know that I will not back down.”

“Hmph!” - you crossed your arms, a triumphant smile already gracing your features. “My dear, sweet Captain. Don’t be so sure of yourself. It’s clear that I love you more.”

“Absurd,” - Capitano clenched his fists, his resolve is unshaken. “My love for you brings mountains to dust and the seas to dry. It is clear that I love you more.”

“Tsk, tsk. I can still express my love in a far wider range, geliebter (loved one).” - There it was. Your special attack as you spoke confidently back. “ You better not underestimate me.”

The Captain froze, his stance now rigid. Even through his pitch-black helmet, you could see you seized him off-guard. A word he has not heard in centuries, even more so, you put in the effort to pronounce it correctly. The Harbinger stepped closer, his sharp fingers gently cupping your cheeks.

“My dear, cherished, loved engelchen (little angel). Where did you learn that from? Such sweet words will not be tolerated. I shall memorize the entire dictionary to out-win you in this battle of precious monikers.”

“Oh yeah? We’ll see, herzblatt (sweetheart), because I did my research! So I win!” - you mumbled proudly, even when Capitano kept squishing your face by squeezing your cheeks lovingly.

Your little ‘warfare’ was left at that, and you didn’t think much of it afterward. A successful conquest; or so you credulously thought. Little did you expect, that in a couple of days, Capitano would burst into the room, a thick book in his hand labeled ‘Dictionary & Encyclopedia of Teyvat's Ancient Languages’.

“My dear, you won’t believe this! I have found a compelling addition to what I must call you, notlazohtlé." (my precious thing)

“U-um, Capitano. You didn't actually spend days trying to memorize a whole… dictionary, did you?”

“Nonsense. A warrior never backs down from a challenge. Especially one bestowed upon him by his yōltzin.” (lover)

✧ When Il Dottore heard you speak, he had to ensure the grip on his book was firm. He swore he almost dropped it but made sure to conceal it, as his back was facing you while he stood in front of bookshelves.

“What did you just say?”

“Habibi” - you retorted simply. “Or, do you prefer azizam?” (my dear)

There was a prolonged silence coming from the Doctor. The sound of this native tongue brought a conflicting range of abrupt disgust and wistful familiarity. Yet Dottore clenched his jaw; there wasn’t an ounce of humor in his voice, and he would much rather go on pretending he hadn’t heard you say those words.

"What are those harebrained names you are calling me? Has your time in Sumeru made you so asinine?"

You were not surprised he reacted this way. Nonetheless, It was futile to hide your solemn disappointment, so you sighed - "Never mind..."

The book he had been flicking through was gradually set aside. Although you couldn’t read his expression, he remained eerily still.

"Say it again."

"Hm?"

"I said,” - Il Dottore suddenly turned, stepping closer to firmly set his hands on the table, looming over you. “Say it again."

Oh no, you thought. “I said habibi. Like people in the Sumeru desert region often say… But I thought you’d loathe it so maybe aziz-”

Your words were cut off, as the Harbinger cupped your jawline and made sure to silence your doubts with his own lips. The sudden kiss was as sweet and warm as honey, and as ardent and fiery as the blazing deserts of Sumeru.

“I was not being serious.” - He explained after leaning away, even if his scoff came out stilted. He didn’t mean to be rude, instead, he was impressed you went your way to learn these expressions. His hold on your jaw abates in an instance “Call me whatever you want.

You blink - “Well, you studied like… twenty languages since you were a student. So I wanted to gauge your reaction. What about ‘my heart’? was it kalbi, or…?”

“...Ya balsam qalbi (O balm of my heart), you just called me a dog.”

The Doctor couldn’t help but laugh at your antic. Your sweet attempts at endearment were beyond him, especially when you fumbled on pronunciation. Thus, he settled with teasing you, locking his lips back with yours. You could feel his love wash over you like the gentle breeze blowing across the sand; carrying away any lingering worries and leaving you with the joy of being with him.

✧ Scaramouche abhors seeing couples being all mushy and sweet in public. Lovers giggling when embracing under the shade? Ugh. Calling each other cute nicknames as they walk? Disgusting. Stealing discreet kisses while no one is looking? Nauseating!

His reaction is nothing new for you, as he frequently crossed his arms in annoyance. Particularly after a nearby married couple passed by the two of you, one of them saying “Anata, don't forget to buy some sugar and flour on our way home.” - Just people going on with their lives. What you didn't expect was how the Puppeteer would latch to your arm and accuse you:

“Why are you not calling me that!?”

You blinked in bewilderment - “...what?”

Scaramouche huffed, his expression sour - “You know what! Dropping the semi-formalities and using Anata (dear). Don't make me repeat myself.”

“But that's how married couples refer to each other.”

“So?”

Silence. The two of you awkwardly stood still, frozen. And then it clicked. “I can’t believe my ears… The 6th of The Fatui Harbinger,”

“Wait, I take it back –”

“Is asking me,”

“Don’t. Don’t you da–”

“To use anata, like a precious spouse would do to their loved one! Aaa!” - you gushed and beamed, your tone countering Scaramouche’s flustered groans, while he tugged at his hat to conceal his furrowed eyebrows. “Should I welcome you home with a cute pink apron, telling you that dinner and a bath are ready, too? Or maybe, offer you something else… ”

“You’re insufferable. I regret even bringing this up now.”

“Fine, Fine. I'll stop." - you sighed after a hearty chuckle. “Sometimes, rigid formalities can appear as an insult too, you know. After all, what sort of sweetheart would I be if I didn’t consider your troubles."

You mused innocently at the mental image of using terms of endearment like a married couple. However, your imagination was interrupted as the Harbinger took it upon himself to grab your waist, pulling you flush against him.

"Did I tell you to stop? If we're going to pretend to be a cute, married couple - then do so properly. Besides, what was that part about offering something else when greeting me back home?”

✧ When you prepare little surprises for your beloved Pantalone, you often come up to him with contagious excitement, eager to show what nick-nacks and artifacts you brought along. This time, you recently returned from an expedition in Liyue, and as always your affluent partner greeted you with honeyed enthusiasm, embracing you tightly as you spoke of your adventures.

“Pantalone, Pantalone!” - You exclaimed gleefully “I learned something new while I was staying in Liyue Harbour!”

“Oh? And do tell, sweetheart, what is it that caught your curiosity this time?” - Pantalone spoke elegantly, helping you undress from your adventuring garbs.

“I was familiarizing myself with certain literary texts and it led me down a rabbit hole of traditional phrases common in Liyue… And I figured out how to call you precious! Bǎobǎo!” (baby)

Pantalone’s eyes shot wide open with renowned zeal. He grinned and clasped his hands, “Oh, my treasure! How adorable of you! And did you go all the way out just to learn this for me? Let me hear you say it again.”

“Bǎobǎo! It suits you! Or maybe you prefer xīn'gān?” (heart and soul)

Pantalone was ecstatic, his smile further widening - “My, my, you certainly worked on your pronunciation. Your stay in Liyue paid off then, because dear, you are making me swoon with your adorable surprises. Pray tell, what other phrases did you learn?”

“Well, I was told that lǎogōng (hubby) is good.”

“Mhm, yes, yes.” - Pantalone nodded.

“Also huài bāo,” (naughty)

“O-oh?”

“And wǒ yào nǐ,” (I want you)

“O-.... oh,”

“And also shǐjìn yīdiǎn (go harder), but I was told this one is a little bit intense.”

The Regrator became motionless. You gazed at him with such pure naïveté, so oblivious that your charming perception didn't grasp the weight of these foreign words. He placed his hands on your shoulders firmly and inquired seriously:

“My sweetheart. Who, exactly, taught you all this?”

“Well, so. There was this lady who had a small perfumery shop by Chihu Rock. I think her name was Ying'er.” - you pondered but smiled “She was a nice lady, she taught me all these phrases, and said they would work like a charm!”

Pantalone had to exert all his mental strength to avoid fainting or exploding. He is unsure of what exactly, but one more word from you and he'd drop to his knees with a ring for you. Rather than translating your earlier words, the Harbinger lets out a shaky sigh and focuses on controlling his hitched breathing.

“Oh, Shǎguā (silly). If you were unsure of the words' meanings, you could have just asked me and I would have demonstrated. Personally.”

✧ It was another day at Tartaglia’s family home in Snezhnaya. You visit him often and his family has long since welcomed you as part of their household. Especially the siblings, as Teucer and Tonia always welcome you with tight embraces whenever you arrive.

When you found your beloved Childe in the kitchen, he innately greeted you with a kiss on the cheek, asking: “You’re right on time, sweetpea. We’re planning on making homemade meat dumplings. Maybe some borscht as a side dish too. Is that okay with you?”

To which you simply nodded, already moving to help - “Of course, milyy (sweet). Do you need me to start with the bullion?”

The Harbinger stopped. He never heard you use native terms, but when he registered your words, his head quickly snapped toward you in astonishment.

“Do my ears deceive me?! Did you just call me…!”

Aha, so you got him. You tried to hide your giddiness, a faint grin threatening to appear - “Well, I just tried to use something new. You love nicknames, right? So perhaps…”

“Say it again!” - The man practically leaped at you, his eyes now glowing with elation as he hyped you up to reveal your cards.

“Okay, okay big guy, just take it easy. I just said milyy (sweet). Maybe you’d like it if I said… lyubimyy (darling)?”

Tartaglia gasps as your sweet words hit his ears, but then a wide grin spreads across his face. “Oh, is this a challenge? If so, fight me! I will shower you with more love for each sweet word coming out of your mouth. But I warn you, you'll have to use them a lot more often from now on.”

He kisses your cheeks again, this time with even more passion and fervor while he cupped your cheeks. His lips felt like waves crashing against the shore, and each one left an invisible imprint of love and adoration on your soul. As you chuckle at his affectionate antics, small hushed voices interrupt you two.

Teucer and his sister Tonia were peeking behind the kitchen door, giggling as they eavesdropped on you two. However, when Tartaglia caught their gazes, the rascals scurried away giggling.

“Hey! Quite sneaking in! Did your parents not teach you to give adults some privacy?”

Latin: melimelum (honey-apple), mel (honey), corculum (sweetheart) German: geliebter (Loved one), herzblatt (sweetheart), engelchen (little angel) Nahuatl (Aztec): notlazohtlé (my darling/precious thing), yōltzin (lover) Persian: azizam (my dear) Arabic: habibi (my dear), Ya balsam qalbi (O balm of my heart), qalbi (my heart), kalbi (my dog, lmao) Japanese: Anata (informal you, dear for couples) Mandarin: Bǎobǎo (baby), lǎogōng (hubby), huài bāo (naughty), wǒ yào nǐ,” (I want you), shǐjìn yīdiǎn (go harder), Shǎguā (silly melon) Russian: milyy (sweet), lyubimyy (darling)

*While I speak Arabic, and Russian and know a little bit of Japanese; If you have some additional info on the linguistic part, or speculation or spot some inaccuracies - please, please, please 🙏 kindly share them with me! I am open to fixing any mistakes. Or if you just have headcanons and love projecting certain languages onto these characters like I do - share them with me!

Thank you

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personapeters · 1 month ago

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✰ 𝐟𝐫𝐚𝐭-𝐛𝐨𝐲𝐟𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐝!𝐫𝐚𝐟𝐞 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐬

— frat boyfriend rafe if he turned to college instead of crime (lol)

rating: sfw — cw: a little suggestive, language

— frat!boyfriend rafe who… during the day wears his regular rich boy attire: a polo, fitted shorts, and sneakers worth more than a semesters tuition. after hours, you’ll find him casually dressed in a university branded tee that hugged his biceps oh-so perfectly, gray sweatpants that hung low on his hips and a backwards snapback that held his long hair out of his face — perfection.

— frat!boyfriend rafe who… is supposed to wear glasses but rarely does, saying they make him look like ‘a fucking geek’. eventually, he became comfortable enough to wear them around you and only you in the privacy of your dorm, and you’d tease him about how he’s the hottest ‘geek’ you’ve ever seen.

— frat!boyfriend rafe who… never lets you walk back to your dorm alone, no matter the time or circumstance. whether it be broad daylight or the middle of the night, he makes zero exceptions — he’s seen the way some of the guys interacted with the girls on campus and he’ll burn the place down before it happens to you.

— frat!boyfriend rafe who… isn’t really fond of coffee unless its fully black, but occasionally brings you your favorite cream filled and sugar loaded latte when you have an early morning class, loving how much sweeter it makes your mouth taste.

— frat!boyfriend rafe who… begrudgingly walks (practically drags) your drunk friends back to their dorms whenever you ask him to, though he couldn’t care less how they got home. as terrible as it sounds, he only does it for you.

— frat!boyfriend rafe who… enjoys to show you off to his frat brothers but simultaneously hates when they look at you. it didn’t make sense, and he was well aware of that, but it’s true — in a ‘look how hot my girl is’ yet a ‘she’s mine, don’t look at her’ way.

— frat!boyfriend rafe who… met you at the campus library, as cliche as it is. he was only there to make quick deal outside, but when he spotted you through a window as your fingers grazed the spines of the books on the shelf, he knew he had to go inside.

— frat!boyfriend rafe who… loves when you wear his university branded t-shirts and hoodies, loving how they swallow you whole as your sleeping gowns or when you roll them up, paired with leggings: “fuck, keep that one — looks so fuckin’ good on you.”

— frat!boyfriend rafe who… insists on covering any and every cost that your scholarships don’t and more; books, supplies, dorm furniture, food, clothes, gas, fees, whatever. of course, you were bewildered as to how a college student had enough money to fund someone else’s life, let alone their own, but once you learned the entirety of his lengthy backstory, it all made plenty of sense.

— frat!boyfriend rafe who… has gotten into his fair share of fights over you, feeling it’s mandatory that everyone on campus knows who’s girl you are and what happens when they challenge that. let it be a suggestive comment or a lingering touch, rafe’s always quick to set shit straight. typically, that type of behavior would result in expulsion, but with the cameron family’s high status and money, rafe was never actually punished for anything.

— frat!boyfriend rafe who… only made it into the same university as you due to his wealth. sure, he was smart but wouldn’t have made it in without his monetary advantage. he’d often get angry and frustrated whenever doing work he simply couldn’t master, but you were like his personal tutor, reassuring him that he can, he just needs to take the time and study (with your help, of course).

— frat!boyfriend rafe who… has your schedule memorized, often casually leaning outside of your classroom with his arms crossed over his chest as he waits for you to emerge so he can shamelessly perform some p.d.a. before escorting you to your next location.

— frat!boyfriend rafe who… once brought you to visit his home town on a break, the outer banks, taking you to all of his favorite spots and, hesitantly, introducing you to his close friends and family. he even explained the whole ‘pogues vs kooks’ thing, emphasizing his distaste for the latter — you honestly thought it was insane: “y’know… if i grew up here, i’d’ve been a ‘pogue’, too,” you reasoned. “yeah, well, you didn’t,” he stated stoically.

— frat!boyfriend rafe who… only went to college with the plan to build his credentials, promising his father he’d soon join in on running the family business. his father was impressed to hear that, saying, “really? wow… m’proud of you, son,” hugging him firmly in a way he seldom did; all rafe’s ever wanted was to be loved and accepted by his dad, and this was his way to do it.

— frat!boyfriend rafe who… is very aware of and annoyed by how other girls throw themselves at him during parties or in the halls — instead of it fueling his ego, it only angers him because he knows they can see you standing right next to him: “swear the bitch is fuckin’ stupid… like she doesn’t see my hand on your ass.”

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the-cimmerians · 1 year ago

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It's 2024. I have been participating in fandom for 40 years. This is a ramble commemorating some history I've experienced along the way.

In 1984, I attended my first convention, and made a beeline for the one long row of covered tables in the Dealer's Room that was, according to the whispered lore of my friends, 'the one'. "um", I said, very suavely and coherently, except for how it was totally the opposite of those things, "I'm here for the... for the, uh. For-"

"Come around here," the man behind the table said with exhausted ennui, so I went around, and he lifted up the table skirt next to him and pointed to rows and rows of boxes underneath the line of tables. "It's all under here."

It was all under there. Along with about five older ladies with glasses, graying hair, cardigans. Flipping through slash zines and chatting in whispered voices like old friends (which of course they were). I noticed one of them had the good sense to be wearing kneepads. I was still too young and ablebodied to need kneepads when crawling on a carpeted floor, but I immediately found her preparedness skills to be both impressive and hot. "You're new," one of the ladies whispered to me--a bit warily, which made sense. "Are you sure you're in the right place?"

In the faint light (the kneepads lady had also come prepared with a flashlight, additional practicality hotness points for her) I grabbed a comb-bound book with a heavy line art piece on the cover, featuring a musclebound Captain Kirk getting righteously and enthusiastically plowed by a stern-yet-ebullient Spock. "This," I said, pointing helpfully at the cover, like I was trying to make myself understood in a language I had only the vaguest knowledge of. "I'm here for this."

Outside at the convention, most of the attendees were wearing large homemade circular pins that shrieked 'K/S is BS!!!'1. But underneath the table, we reveled in the forbidden.

***

In 1985, I fell very hard for Starsky & Hutch fandom. Which was simply referred to at the time as 'the other fandom', because there were only two. We were upstarts. Many fannish elders predicted that it was just a phase.

***

The 'circulating library' was a massive stack of barely-legible pages that smelled strongly of mimeograph ink. When you were on the list, you would write stories while you waited for your turn, and when the big box was mailed to you, you would read everything (new finds, old favorites), add your own sloppily-typed or hastily-mimeographed stories, and then mail the whole thing to the next person. For me, at the time, it was an extremely expensive indulgence--but my favorite one.

***

By 1990, slash fandom had grown enough that I no longer knew everyone in it, which was both thrilling and a bit daunting. A young woman at a convention waited for me after a panel I was part of (I think it was 'writing impactful smut' or something like that), and said she had a question she didn't want to ask in a group setting. I'd heard that before. I said that's fine, go ahead and ask; and she came out with: "Why do you have to be gay?"

I blinked. "Is... that a problem?"

She looked annoyed. "Yes, because your stories are on all the recommendation lists and in all the top zines, but if you're gay and I read something you wrote and I get hot from it that makes me gay, and I'm not gay."

"Wow." I grinned, I couldn't help it. It probably made me look very predatory-dyke-about-to-score-a-toaster. Whatever, it was enough to make her back away from me fast.

When I thought about it later that night, I wondered what it would be like not to be the only queer person in slash fandom.

***

By 1997, slash started appearing on the internet. Many fannish elders claimed it was the death knell of slash fandom, or dismissed it as 'just a phase'.

***

Anyway, I wrote all this for myself as a commemoration of sorts, but if you took the time to read it--thank you. Love you, fandom. I always will.

1 In those days, m/m fandom was known as 'slash', which grew from the fannish shorthand where 'K&S' meant a story of Kirk and Spock having adventures or tribulations or what have you, and 'K/S' meant a story of Kirk and Spock getting it on (Kirk divided by Spock or Spock into Kirk--it was mathy fannish humor and I was into it then and I still am now). Slash was decidedly unpopular in the fannish world in 1984, and there was a concerted effort to force slash authors, artists, and fans out of 'mainstream' fannish public life. Hence, under the table.

#fannish shenanigans #fandom history #rare ass personal post

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inthehexcore · 2 months ago

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pages and books

summary: The quiet Enforcer stops by your quiet library. Multiple times.

content: STEB! librarian!reader gets sick, fluff, can't think of much else! probably ooc

wordcount: 2.397

a/n: i love Steb so much... inbox/requests open!

⠂⠄⠄⠂☆

The sun in Piltover shone as bright as it always did. It lit up the entire library, and you could not help but hum as you pushed the cart of books around. The warmth of the rays only made the building look more beautiful, something which you were not aware was even possible.

The high ceilings with curved windows and hand-painted images, detailed golden pillars, royal blue seats with dark wooden tables. Not all of your fellow students liked the library. To be fair, there were tons of other stunning places all around Piltover, but yours was here.

You spent so much time surrounded by the books that you just ended up taking a side job as the assistant. It meant pouring coffee and putting back books, but it also meant reading when everything was cleaned and drinking the sweet tea that was technically only meant for the professors.

With the library not being the most popular spot, it also allowed you to brush up on skills and even pick up new things to learn. The history of Piltover, Professor Heimerdinger's autobiography, varieties of plants, but most recently, you found a book about sign language. It was interesting for sure. Every time you put the loaned books back in their spot, another one got added to the stack of other books that you still wanted to read during your breaks.

So, as per usual, you sat at the window near the counter. Even with it being your break, you still liked to be close to your workspace, just in case someone came in.

A steaming cup of tea stood beside your book as you flipped through the pages, admiring the photographs of Piltover's 'ten most beautiful buildings', occasionally stirring the cup of tea and taking a sip out of it. Stuck in your own world, though your gaze moved to outside the window ever so often. From here, you could see the main square - the market, Enforcers, students.

The watch around your wrist kept ticking away, reminding you that your break had already stopped a few minutes ago. A neat bookmark got placed between the pages of the book as you turned around, nearly dropping the hot beverage that you were holding.

Right in front of you stood a tall Enforcer. His face was blank and his hands were clasped behind his back. You were nearly jealous of his posture - you must have looked idiotic with how hunched over you were sitting.

"Oh, Officer! I hope I didn't keep you waiting for too long."

The man slowly shook his head, his eyes set on you as you moved back to the counter, placing the book that you were reading back on its space. He took a step closer, his arms still behind him.

"What can I help you with today?"

He held out his hand, a small note hidden in the grip of his glove. A short list with some of the most specific books you had seen in a while. Even though you did not dare to ask him why he needed all of these, you could not help but try to theorize.

Maybe he was working on a weapon, or what if he went off into the wilderness and build a house out of nothing but sticks and mud?

"Ha, this might take me a moment to find. Would you like some tea, Officer?"

Quietly, he stared at you for a moment before shaking his head. He just had his break - after bringing these books to Commander Kiramman, his day was basically over. Patrol for an hour, and then it was time for him to relax. Finally away from all the loud sounds of the city. But being in the empty library was not unwelcome, either.

"I will be back in a sec!"

It was much longer than a sec.

With every minute, you got more and more anxious. How could you keep an Enforcer waiting for this long? There was no one in the entire library! Your footsteps sounded heavy and you felt like every breath you took was one too loud. But, after fifteen minutes and lots of going up and down ladders, you finally found all the books on his list.

"And... Phew! This should be all," you wiped your hands, "Do you need help bringing it to... your office?"

Silently, the Enforcer shook his head again, reaching for the stack of thick books as he held them in his hands.

"Oh! What name can I put these on? That way I can remember, for next week!"

Next week? Oh, to return the books.

The man looked around him for a moment before his eyes fell on the small notebook next to you. He glanced at it as he looked back at you. You furrowed your eyebrows for a moment before going 'aha!', reaching for your notebook as you opened it on a blank page, handing him your pen. If you could have, you would have chuckled. A strong officer writing in your sparkly notebook with a neon-coloured gel pen.

He put the pen back down, nodding before taking one step back.

"Thank you so much. Till next time, Officer Steb."

Even with the interaction being a little under a week ago, you still had not moved on from it. His intense, blue gaze, his straight and confident posture. His handwriting even - it was immortalized in your notebook.

You found yourself looking for him through the windows, and while walking through the square, you would keep an eye out for his tall figure. 'He still has two days to return the books,' you thought to yourself. Most people even turned their books in late. But he was an Enforcer, so you highly doubted that he would.

Humming again as you placed the books back on the shelves, your cart now empty. Except for a few students in the far corner of the library, you were all on your own. You didn't mind - it left you with some time to finish up the essay that was due for tomorrow. So, with a sigh, you pushed the cart back to the counter.

There, in front of the small spot where you always sat, stood Officer Steb. It seemed to immediately lift your spririts as the cart suddenly felt much lighter.

"Officer Steb!"

His ears slightly moved back a little, not expecting your voice to suddenly pop up, but as he saw you, he gave you a nod.

"And, how did you like the books?"

He only nodded in return, placing the stack of books down on the counter. All of them had been put in alphabetical order - he must be an organized man. You pulled up his page, making sure that you had all the correct books as you nodded, scribbling down all the extra information before handing him the handwritten receipt.

"Could I do anything else for you, Officer?"

Steb was quiet - he was quiet often times. Out of his pocket, he fished another note with a few more books on it. The Undercity's History, a cookbook, 'Haircutting for Dummies!', and some more titles. You glanced up at him, trying hard not to let chuckles escape from you.

"Are these… All for you?"

You spot the tiniest shape of a smile as he shook his head. He tapped his Enforcer badge as you nodded, an 'oooh' as you looked back at the list.

"Be right back!"

This time, you found the books much faster. Not that Steb minded if you took a while - he enjoyed the library. He liked the books, the smells, the sun - you. Maddie offered to bring all the loaned books back to the library, but by the time she could even think about standing up, Steb was already out the door. The rest of the Enforcers shrugged it off as the man just wanting to spend some quiet time on their own. It was what he did.

But you.

How… Happy you always were. Cheery, but not overwhelmingly so. A bright flash of the sun through dark clouds. A stark contrast to his stoic demeanour, fire and water.

"There we go," you hummed, brushing a strand of hair out of your face as you pushed the cart back to the desk, "Can I put it under Officer Steb again?"

Hearing his name coming from you felt new, refreshing. He nodded, reaching over for the stack.

"Well, if you use the haircut book, let me know."

Steb snorted with a smile before clearing his throat, quickly standing back up straight before nodding. He was looking forward to next week.

For months, he came every single Tuesday, always around the same time. It must be during his break, or during his patrol. Only once had someone else shown up, Officer Nolan, as she introduced herself. She was nice and very talkative, so the two of you spent quite some time at the desk, chatting away. The week after that, Steb had written something extra on a note that he had stuck in a book.

'Sorry for Officer Nolan'

It had made you laugh.

Every week, the list of books would be different from the one before. Not only that, but the topics of said books could not be further apart. It was after a month of wondering that Steb answered the burning question that you had in mind. 'They are for the entire squad. They make a list, I get the books.' It made sense. So now, every week, you would try to guess which of the Enforcers would be reading which book. A fun little game, and thankfully Officer Steb would humour you, nodding or shaking his head depending on if your guess was right.

Over time, it felt like a friendship. More details of Steb came to the surface, and he would ask about your day. Favorite foods, hobbies, things you both hated. Officer Steb did not speak much, but he was comforting company. If bringing the book was his last task of the day, then he would stay at the library for a moment, starting the book that was meant for him. The last few times, you also placed a cup of tea next to him when he wasn't looking. It was like a challenge to see if he noticed you sneaking up on him - he did, but he would have never told you.

Today had been a bad day.

You slipped on your way to the library, there was a group of loud kids in the library, your head was pounding and you were not sure if you were feeling hot or cold. With a pack of tissues in your hand, you sniffed, squeezing your eyes shut.

The large windows and bright sun felt like a curse as you wished for nothing more than it to be dark outside. At least the group of rowdy teenagers had finally left.

When you heard the door open again, you nearly groaned in annoyance. If they returned, then you would have had no other choice but to hide in the back, away from the noise.

But after the creaking of the door, there was no other noise. You raised an eyebrow before lifting your head out of your hands, being met with no one other than Officer Steb.

"Oh, Officer Steb," you sniffed, your voice hoarse and odd-sounding due to your blocked nose, "I nearly forgot the date."

While usually dressed in his Enforcer uniform, he now wore something much more casual. You had never seen him outside of the dark blue and gold - the black and dark green suited him. Without his beret or helmet on, you could also see his hair. You wondered if he used the 'Haircutting for Dummies' book for it all those months ago. According to Steb, the book was not for him. His eyebrows creased as he scanned you, squinting his eyes.

"Yeah, not the best day," you shrugged, wiping your hand on your shirt, "But there is no one else to run the library, so… Me it is."

He quietly stared at you for another moment before gesturing to your notepad again. The sparkly cover held many pages of his handwriting - so many that it might as well have been his. You silently hand it over, your head aching with every move you make.

'Stay here, be right back'.

Steb turned on his heels, walking right down the hall and out the door. You only raised an eyebrow before looking over the stack of books and writing down all the information you needed. After what felt like an eternity, you finally sat back down in your chair, your fingers rubbing at your temples.

The Enforcer came back not long after, a small bag in his left hand. He placed it on the counter - as quietly as he could - which made you look back up.

"You're free."

Steb's voice was so different from what you imagined.

"I-" you frowned, "Excuse me, Officer Steb? I'm not sure what you mean."

"Just Steb is fine," he looked away, "Commander Kiramman has contacted the owner of the library, your boss, and you have permission to leave now."

How had he done that?

Your bag was still packed, resting against the side of the counter, almost jumping in excitement that you got to go home.

"You are sick, yes?"

"I mean… Sadly so, I'm guessing."

He nodded, slowly reaching out to you before slightly raising an eyebrow. You breathed in, nodding as his hand made contact with your forehead. Cold, so cold. Your eyes almost closed at the sensation, the feeling of his cool fingers nice against your burning face.

Sadly, the moment ended all too soon as Steb reached into the small bag, pulling out an assortment of different painkillers and medicine.

"Once a day," he held up one of the packets, "Maximum of three a day, six hours inbetween."

He had gone out to get you medicine? You nearly wanted to start crying, your tired eyes and heavy limbs glad that they would almost be able to rest. Not to mention the bursting and pounding of your heart. Despite feeling horrible, a smile still formed on your face.

"I… Steb, thank you. I can't believe this."

He took your bag off the ground, waiting for you to lock everything up before exiting the library, side by side.

"Thank you again," you said, though it came out not nearly as loud as you thought it would have.

"Have to take care of my favourite librarian," his comment nearly made you fall over, though he would not have let that happen, "I bring you home, you take the medicine, and I see you next week?"

#arcane imagines #arcane #arcane fics #arcane x reader #steb #steb arcane #steb x reader #steb fics #steb imagine

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heytheredelulu · 10 months ago

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Little Bookworm 18+

Bucky Barnes x Reader

Word Count: 2.3k

Content Warnings: unprotected sex (p-in-v), rough sex, dirty talk, size kink, dubcon kink (as long as Bucky can keep a straight face), tummy bulge, language, a good ole coochie slap (once), cum play, a little fluff, some aftercare

Your boyfriend can’t think of anything more adorable than watching you read. One night while you’re in the shower he picks up the book you left on the nightstand: “Haunting Adeline by H.D. Carlton” and thumbs through it, very quickly realizing just what kind of books his sweet little bookworm is really into.

Inspired by my IRL husband’s reaction to my smutty reads.

Note: I don’t own any characters or works referenced in this oneshot and shout out to H.D. Carlton for creating Zade Meadows and giving us the house of mirrors chapter that’s been living rent free in both me and @lilacka’s head for over a year.

Bucky absolutely loved to watch you read.

The subtle way your expressions changed as your eyes would glide across the pages made his heart swell with admiration.

He found himself entranced with your concentration, your eyebrows knitting together in thought, your lips quirking up into a smile and even the soft laughter that would sometimes escape you as you delved deep into the world you held in your hands.

He was always more than happy to accompany you to the bookstore, leaning against the shelves and observing you as you thumbed through new titles, stacking your choices in his strong arms before darting down the next aisle to browse further.

He looked forward to the evenings where he could lay his head comfortably in your lap, his arm draped across your thighs as you worked your fingers lazily through his hair while you read quietly above him.

Tonight he lay in bed with his hands folded behind his head, listening to the gentle sound of the shower from the bathroom as you bathed when his gaze fell on your most recent read on the nightstand. The cover was dark with a skull and roses, something about a ‘Haunting’ and an absurd amount of sticky notes jutted out from the pages. His curiosity overtook him and he sat up, picking it up and turning it over in his hands. He thumbed through it carefully before letting it fall open to one of the tagged pages, his eyes scanning the text and widening slightly at the content.

He flipped to another tab, quickly reading through the passage, his breath quickening as he took in the words.

“If I catch you, I fuck you.”

Jesus Christ.

The bathroom door creaked open and he slowly lifted his gaze up to you.

Your damp body wrapped in a towel with your wet hair against your neck and shoulders did absolutely nothing to combat the heat that was already rising within him at what he’d just read.

Your eyes connect for a beat before you glance down to notice the book in his hand, opened to one of your tagged pages.

It was hard to discern if the flush across your cheeks was remnant of the heat of the shower or from the slight embarrassment of feeling caught by your boyfriend discovering the absolute filth you’d been reading.

He raises a brow at you, lifting the book and tapping on the open passage.

“If I catch you, I fuck you?” He asks, tilting his head curiously. “Really?”

You huff and roll your eyes, stepping forward and reaching to snatch the book from his hands but he’s quicker, snapping it shut and holding it just out of your reach.

“No, no. We’re gonna talk about this, doll.” He says, his lips curling into a smirk. “This is what you’ve been reading?”

You shift from foot to foot.

“Sometimes.” You reply with a weak shrug.

He turns the book over in his hands again and idly runs his palm back and forth against all the flags poking out from between the pages. “And do you.. like this stuff?” He asks, not looking up. “Does it turn you on?”

You swallow hard and nod despite the fact he’s not looking at you.

“Sometimes.” You repeat quietly.

“Huh.”

He purses his lips and nods thoughtfully, standing up and tossing the book onto the bed. “I guess you oughta run then.”

Your eyebrows shoot up to your hair line.

Did he just?

Is he going to?

“W-what?” You stutter out, taking a small step back as he closes in on you.

He tsks and reaches out, brushing your wet hair back off your shoulder with two fingers. “You heard me, baby.”

You open your mouth to reply but the words are lost the moment he seizes the edge of your towel in his large hand.

Your eyes connect for a brief moment before he yanks the towel free of your body and discards it on the ground, leaving you exposed, confused and incredibly aroused.

His hand settles on your breast, his thumb brushing over your nipple and sending a rush of desire straight to your core. He dips his head to nuzzle his forehead against your temple, his tongue flicking against your earlobe.

“You should probably run now.” He warns in a whisper, taking a step back to give you space for a head start.

You stare wide eyed in disbelief, your head barely able to wrap around what was happening.

“Five.” He says in a threatening tone, bringing his hand down to palm his growing erection under his sweatpants.

You’re frozen to the spot.

There’s no fucking way he’s about to do this.

“Four.”

Okay, maybe he is.

You take off at a run, reaching the bedroom door and flinging it open with him hot on your tail.

Your bare feet pound against the hardwood floor and you rush down the hall towards the staircase, making it only two steps down before his strong arm catches you around the waist and picks you up effortlessly.

You wiggle against his hold, kicking your feet and thrashing.

“You’re not very fast, you know.” He teases, tightening his grip on you, his cock straining against his sweatpants and pressing into your backside.

He carries you back into the bedroom, his arm locked around you in a vice grip and tosses you onto the bed as if you were weightless. He tugs his sweatpants down and kicks them off, his cock bobbing with every step as he stalks towards you.

He braces his palms on the bed, preparing to climb up and pin you but you scramble backwards off the bed and take off again. He pauses, his brows furrowing in confusion. “Wait, what-?” he straightens up and turns, watching as you sprint across the room and he frowns, realizing you weren’t going to let him catch you that easily.

“Damnit.” He grumbles, launching himself up over the bed.

He chases you with heavy footsteps towards the bathroom and you rush to shut the door but his hand catches it and forces it open, leaving you completely cornered with nowhere else to turn. “Shit.” You breathe out, looking around for a possible way out. He laughs, a cute and genuine laugh that is just so Bucky, completely betraying the role he was attempting to play.

You cross your arms over your bare breasts and frown. “I’m sorry.” He says, shaking his head. “I- just.. why did you run into the bathroom?” He asks, gesturing around the small room with amusement. “I don’t know!” You huff, your lips pressing into a pout. “I wasn’t thinking.”

“No, you definitely weren’t.” He agrees, swinging his foot back to kick the door shut behind him. “Guess you’re trapped, huh?”

You nod, letting your arms fall away from your breasts. “I guess I am.” You breathe out, your body thrumming with a mix of excitement and desire as your eyes trail down his toned body to land on his fully erect cock. He’s on you in an instant, grabbing your wrist and tossing you to the ground.

You fall hard on your hands and knees onto the plush bath mat, barely able to steady yourself on all fours before he’s on your back, arm hooked around your waist and sinking his cock into your wet, throbbing cunt. You arch back into him, fingers digging into the bath mat and a choked gasp catches in your throat as he pulls you flush to his pelvis, burying himself to the hilt. He snakes his free hand up your abdomen towards your chest, a trail of goosebumps following in his wake, dipping his forehead down to rest against the back of your shoulder. He palms your breast roughly, rolling your peaked nipple between his thumb and forefinger.

“Bucky..” You whisper, your head falling back.

His forearm tightens around your waist and he releases your nipple with a gentle tug, sliding his hand up to curl around your throat. You moan and wiggle your hips, desperate for him to move, but he holds you still, lifting you up with him as he leans back on his heels.

“I’ll never get tired of this.” He whispers, unhooking his arm from your waist and resting his large hand over the slight bulge in your abdomen. “That’s my cock.” He murmurs, squeezing your throat gently before grasping your jaw and tilting your chin down to look at how he’s stretching you. You whimper and he moves your hand to press down on the bulge of his cock in your belly. “And this is my pussy.” He growls, delivering a slap to your aching clit before he draws his hips back and begins to thrust himself up into you at a steady pace.

A string of soft curses falls from your lips and your head drops back against the crook of his neck, your hand leaving your abdomen and reaching backwards to fist in his hair. “I didn’t realize you were such a freak, baby.” He whispers, his hand tightening around your throat. “I shoulda thumbed through one of your little books sooner.”

His free hand kneads at the flesh of your thigh and he groans, his balls slapping against your ass as he fucks up into you. “I- I-“ You stutter, unable to think straight as your head grows dizzy with pleasure. “Oh no, am I fuckin’ my baby stupid?” He asks with a grin, bringing two fingers to tease at your bottom lip. You open on instinct and he slips them into your mouth, letting out a shaky breath as you suck and swirl your tongue around the digits.

“Fuck.” He hisses, pressing his slick fingers to your clit. You gasp, your fingers curling around his wrist as he strokes your sensitive bud, pulling you closer towards your impending orgasm.

“You gonna come, little bird?” He whispers, trying to reference your book and quickening his fingers against your clit. “It’s ‘little mouse’.” You correct, your lips quirking up into a smirk at his admirable attempt. “Whatever.” He hisses, pinching your clit between his fingers and sending a jolt of white-hot pleasure through your body. You choke out a strangled cry as you come, your legs trembling and back arching against him as your cunt clenches around his cock.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck!” He grunts, shoving you forward to the floor and falling to his knees. You scramble forward, his cock slipping from your dripping hole as you try to steady yourself in the dizzying wake of your orgasm.

“Oh no, no you don’t.” He growls, grabbing your ankle and dragging you back towards him. You lose your balance and fall flat, your breasts smashed against the cold tile as he presses his weight down on you, running his cock back and forth along your folds before thrusting back into you. “T-too much!” You whine, squirming underneath him.

“Tell me to stop.” He grunts, knowing damn well you never would. He hooks his forearm under your waist again and angles your hips upward, taking you deeper than you even thought possible.

Choked sobs of euphoria escape your throat as your cheek rests against the floor, dragging back and forth across the tile from the force at which he’s fucking into you. Your limp body shakes uncontrollably as your pussy spasms and waves of ecstacy crash over you faster than you can count them. Your orgasms explode through you like a string of firecrackers as you curse and mumble incoherently.

He pulls out abruptly, grabbing your hips and flipping you onto your back, moving to straddle your chest while he frantically fucks his fist. He comes with a shout, gasping as he paints your face with ropes of hot, sticky cum. “Fuck.” He pants, looking down at you in admiration as he brushes his thumb along your cheek, gathering up his seed.

He pinches your flushed, sticky cheeks together with his free hand. “Open.” He says softly, slipping his thumb into your mouth when you do. You suckle his thumb, greedily cleaning it with a swirl of your tongue, looking up at him through half lidded eyes. He sighs contentedly before moving off you and rising to stand, reaching into the shower to turn on the water.

“And I had just showered.” You mumble as you take the hand he offers you and pull yourself up on wobbly knees. “Don’t you dare bitch about the water bill when it comes.” You tease.

He chuckles softly and pulls you into him, holding you against his chest with one strong arm while the other reaches out to test the temperature of the water. “I won’t.” He says, stepping in first and gently helping you in after him. He wraps his arms lovingly around you and rests his chin atop your head as the warm water cascades over you both.

“Let’s clean you up, doll. It’s late and we have plans in the morning.” He says quietly, his eyes slipping closed as his hand runs idly up and down your back. You lean back and look up at him with your brows furrowed in confusion. “We don’t have plans tomorrow.”

His eyes flutter open and he grins. “The hell we don’t.” He replies, reaching for the shampoo bottle and squeezing the contents into the palm of his hand. You open your mouth to protest when he doesn’t answer your question but he simply twirls a finger, gesturing for you to turn around.

You sigh, turning your back to him and he begins to lather the shampoo in your hair, gently massaging your scalp with his fingers. “So what’re these plans?” You ask quietly after a long moment of silently enjoying his hands tenderly working through your locks. He leans forward, his broad, wet chest pressing against your back and brings his mouth to hover beside your ear.

His breath sends a shiver down your spine as he lets out a low, breathy laugh and whispers, “I’m taking you to buy more books.”

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