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kaidraws69 · 5 months ago

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Agni lore

Full Name: Agni Pele Ignatius

Meaning of Name: Fire god

Nickname(s): NiNi (by his little niece)

Birthday: 4/14/1996

Gender (Assigned Gender, pronouns, and if they’re trans): he/him/his

Species: Mount Rageon

Race / Ethnicity / Nationality: Goyle

Eye Color: Red

Skin Color: dirty red

Hair Type: silicon dread-type

Hair Color and Length: Orange- shoulder length

Build: Thin and tall

Age: 28

In School? (If so, what grade): N/A

Height: 9’2”

Weight (vs. what it’s supposed to be): 100 LBS

Healthy? Why or Why Not: Agni is in very good shape and health, dispite his disability

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Do they like their name?: yes

How old do they appear?: 28

Glasses?: no

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Backstory: Agni grew up in a sketchy neighborhood in Under Rageous. Surrounded by violence and bounties, he was forced to work at a young age to help support his family. Everyday he feared he’d die on the dangerous streets. As he grew, so did his pent up aggression and rage. His parents split and he was left along in his fathers care, going to his mothers on the weekends. As soon as he reached eighteen, he booked it out of his fathers care and packed his bags and searched for a place to call home. Eventually coming across an old warehouse for welding/ construction, he contacted the owner and bought the warehouse for 1600 Bitz. (16,000 USD thank you Nally for helping me with that) He gradually moved in all while fixing up the place, teaching himself how to weld and construct things. Ever so slowly, he eventually started to make and sell traps to other Rageons for their bounties, getting paid good! Unable to keep up with the high demand of traps, Agni started hiring other Rageons who needed a place to work, making sure to pay them fairly. Word spread that PyroTech Construction made high quality traps for a fair price, causing a certain Strobe Rageon to hear about Agni’s little company. One busy day however, Agni was busy connecting sharp metal teeth to a snap-trap when a razor sharp steel plate fell from a steel beam and sliced his arm clean off. The shock sent him back as the adrenaline kept him from feeling pain. He was rushed to the hospital, where he got the wound closed off, somehow surviving all that blood loss. After he recovered, he immediately began working on making himself a prosthetic, taking months to build and program. After half a year, he finally completed the prosthetic, and just had to install and activate the neuro connector. A neuro connector is like a hearing aid but it cuffs behind the ear. Pressing the small button, a long surgical needle pierced into his head, right to the section of his brain that moved and controlled his arm. Bam. He had a new arm now!

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Core Personality Traits: highly territorial, sarcastic, so passive-aggressive it hurts

Daredevil or Cautious: daredevil

Selfish or Selfless: a mix of both

Major Strengths / Pros: durable, strong, risky, territorial, wants things done his way

Major Flaws / Weaknesses / Cons: stubborn, doesn’t care if he gets more scars, will fight and murder anyone who gets in his way

Likes: his job, close friends, a handful of Rageons

Dislikes: Rageons who call him out, insult his work, employees, or close friends, low quality work

Good Habits: Loyal, protective, damn good at what he does, if you’re buddies with him, you get discounts

Bad Habits: too many to name lol

Sexuality: Omnisexual

Opinion on Sex / Relationships: open to them

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Powers(?): brute strength and a thick skull

Weapon: horn(s)

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Taste in Clothes: he really refers the light, loose clothing. Tank top, cargo pants, work boots

Hobbies: welding/construction, forging, smithing

Favorite Sport: Ram-headding (it’s a Goyle thing)

Favorite Game: the Rageon version of CoD

Favorite Genre of Music: rock/ metal (anything aggressive)

Favorite Class: ig he teaches welding?

Favorite Food: Anything spicy

Favorite Person / Role Model: himself

Celebrity “Crush” / Secondary Role Model: he’d kill me if I told you

Quote(s): “You was in my way”

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Family Situation: separated parents, no contact

Best Friends: Nova, Apollo, Lito

Friends: Bro doesn’t have a lot

Enemies: succubi Rageons

Crush: again, he’d kill me if I told you

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Phobia?: atychiphobia (fear of failure)

Deepest fear / the worst thing that could happen to them / what would break them?: losing his arm and part of his left horn

What are they reluctant to tell people?: His past

The worst thing (currently) in their life: coping with his traumas

The best thing (currently) in their life: his friends and work

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How do they feel about themselves?: Agni is very proud of himself

Are they the same alone?: absolutely

How does the character try to differ from how they actually are?: he doesn’t

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Fun Facts (Miscellaneous):

Agni lost part of his horn in a territory fight while butting heads

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#trolls band together #mount rageous #mount rageon oc #under rageous

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tracybirds · 1 year ago

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John and 6 :)

Thank you!! Hope you enjoy my rambles and vague sense of a story lol <3 I decided to give John a go on the 2050s version of the "vomit comet". Note that I have not been to space, have limited experiences with extended freefall, and I'm banking on everyone else being in a similar position so that any nonsense I spew is easily overlooked lol

That being said, have an article because of course I did SOME research xD When they refer to "anorexia" in the symptoms, I'm like 90% sure they're meaning a general loss of appetite NOT anorexia nervosa.... that threw me for a loop at first.

Gentle Prompts - 6. "I've got you."

His chest heaved, the shot of adrenaline marking the start of his racing heart. He could faintly recall the feeling, running laps bent over and gasping with a stitch in his side, or maybe in a school gym running through the same calisthenics day in and day out with gritted teeth as he silently hated the man shouting at them all to reach a standard beyond their experience. There was some sort of specific technique to breathe, something he'd been taught to employ, but that all meant very little now that the air had rushed from his lungs.

There was oxygen of course, otherwise John knew he'd have passed out already, and since he remained endlessly, stubbornly conscious, there must be plenty of it.

It was a good start.

"Still with us, Johnny?" called Jeff.

He nodded, eyes firmly shut as the whooshing in his stomach settled into normal gravity, surrounded once more by the sensation of synthetic fabric on skin.

"You sure?" asked Scott. John didn't need to open his eyes to know his brother was grinning.

He gestured rudely in response, trying to focus on stopping the world from spinning. No longer was he being jostled about, bouncing off the force of the chair, the wall, the seatbelt.

"Gonna need a verbal confirmation before we make another run of it, John," said Jeff. John opened his eyes to meet his father's in the mirror.

"I'm fine," he said. "'S just disorientating."

Jeff nodded. "First taste of zero g always is."

That wasn't what I meant, John wanted to say, the heaviness in his limbs pulling him down and away from where he wanted to be, his inner balance thrown off kilter forever by experiencing something of which he'd always dreamed. "Can we go again?"

"Looping around and climbing," confirmed Scott. "Dad, I can go solo if you want to jump in the back."

"I'm sure you can," said Jeff mildly. "But you'll go solo on my instruction, not yours."

Scott flushed, his jaw jumping as he shut his mouth.

"Yes, sir."

John paid them no attention as he slipped out of his seatbelt, centring himself as they reached the crest of the manoeuvre. A swooping in his stomach, followed by his feet gently lifting off the floor, confirmed the freefall and he whooped, pushing back down as his hands found the roof.

"Return to standard in 5... 4... 3..."

John scrambled to grab hold of something as his father's countdown filled the aircraft, and the floor came rushing up to meet him.

"Ow," he said succinctly, a tangle of arms and legs.

Jeff hardly glanced back.

"You only have about twenty seconds."

"I know," grumbled John. "It just caught me off guard."

"We're coming around again, get ready."

It was his own personal high, John decided, that little thrill of adrenaline as he watched the floor fall away from him again and again. A bubble of laughter escaped him, limbs flailing as they instinctively tried to swim despite his training.

Nothing could have trained him for this.

His stomach twisted mid air and John fell forward, heedless of his father's countdown.

He crashed into the floor, curled tightly in on himself as the disparity between his senses finally caught up with his body.

"John!"

He hardly heard the instructions his father barked at his brother, the heaving sensation overpowering as he shuddered.

Strong, familiar arms gathered him from the floor, old murmuring comfort filling his ears.

"I thought I'd be the one in three," he whispered, feeling small and foolish. "I belong up there."

"The other two thirds don't belong up there any less," said Jeff quietly. "You did well for your first time. We were pushing it so Scott could practice just as much as you."

"Cruising at thirty-six thousand," said Scott. "You alright, back there, John?"

He tapped Jeff's hand twice for yes, not yet trusting himself to speak. He'd had motion sickness before, reading in the back of the car as a child, and he'd thought he'd be prepared. The nausea was all-encompassing, the dizziness making the world dip in and out of focus as he blinked back the pain from blood pounding behind his eyes.

Jeff chuckled.

"You look as miserable as I was on my first flight. Don't worry, Johnny, I've got you. We're going home."

[prompts from here - feel free to send one through!]

#thunderbirds are go #sometimes i fic #john tracy #jeff tracy #scott tracy #thank you again <33

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yourbelgianthings · 1 year ago

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taz november celebration fic 5: prompt soft

it was pretty obvious to me what i had to do with this one, so enjoy your beef, everybody! ~650 words, tw car crash mention, steeplechase ep 10/11 spoilers @taznovembercelebration

The heist of the Clean and the explosive car chase through Gutter City left every member of Poppy's Pals traumatized. Emerich was haunted by what he had done to a hardlight construct, Montrose got a taste for danger and became reckless, and Beef started second guessing what they were doing after truly ending up in harm's way, developing a soft side. Once Sticky Fingers Paul Pantry paid the crew, Montrose pulled Emerich into the back to try and pull him out of his depressed state, leaving Beef on his own. He sank to the floor in front of one of the brightly colored and flashing arcade machines, crossing his muscular arms on top of his knees and laying his head down on them. The sound of footsteps approached, but without even looking up, he said, "Fuck off, Poppy," sounding more tired than mad, and they retreated again. God, what happened here? He was Beef Punchley, sure, past his prime, but still Beef Punchley nonetheless. Why was he scared all of a sudden? How did this get to be too much so fast? Somehow, it now seemed like Montrose was the strong one, thriving off of danger and being in high-adrenaline situations. Beef's physical strength was no longer going to cut it. He ran his fingers across the sleeve of tattoos on each of his arms. Their familiar designs and colors somehow seemed strange now. The heist had been a success, they got the prism of the Clean back to Sticky Fingers Paul Pantry and out of being blackmailed, but he personally still felt like a failure. In his career, he had never second guessed himself. He had always wanted to be a professional arm wrestler, and of course working for Dentonic in Ustaben wasn't his first choice after the scandal, but it never felt wrong. Until now, that was, but the problem was the heists. If he could stop being a criminal and just go back to the regular old routine at Poppy's Place, that would be fine by him, but he had a sinking feeling in his stomach that it was too late for that. He inhaled deeply, clenched all his muscles, exhaled, and relaxed them. That was enough spiraling, he trusted Emerich and Montrose and they'd find a way forward somehow. Beef got up, stretched, and headed for the Buttercream; he had something in mind he'd love to win somehow and share with the other two. Later that evening, he knocked on the door of the back room. "Go away, Poppy!" Montrose called. Beef laughed and replied, "Don't worry, it's me." The door opened and he saw Montrose standing there, still not changed out of his coat that got burned in the car chase, and Emerich dozing on one of the chairs. He revealed the bottle of bourbon (that he had won, and at a game he never played before, too!) from behind his back. "I figured we could all use a drink after everything that went down earlier." Hearing another voice, Emerich awoke with a start, but relaxed seeing it was just Beef. After talking with Montrose and getting a chance to rest, he looked a little bit less like a ghost. Montrose was still focused on the bottle, his mask displaying a mildly surprised expression. "Beef, where did you find this? It looks like part of the commemorative park anniversary batch from five years ago." "I didn't think we were in the habit of asking each other questions, Montrose. Unless you want to start answering them?" he replied teasingly. "Touché." They all laughed and sat down to share a well earned drink together. There wasn't exactly a lot of time in the lives of professional thieves to process trauma, but a couple shots with their friends? That they could do, no matter how haunted, reckless, or soft.

#message from mirph #mirph's manuscripts #taz november celebration #taz fanfic #taz steeplechase #beef punchley #travis mcelroy #fanfic

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model19 · 1 year ago

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slightly inspired by your latest reply to me, so: does jigen have a single job he'd class as The Worst?

what makes a job bad? what makes a job good?

Oo! This is a good question, I like this. There's a list for good jobs to check off. The following apply, but are not limited to, Treasure recovered ✓ Got to eat food ✓ It was fun ✓ Got to show off skills ✓ Ran away without issues ✓ There was time to smoke ✓

The worst job ever was one he took on his own.

He was in Germany. As early as late November is when the weary city starts to come to life with lights, and the people become a smidge more alive and excited, the younger more than the ones restlessly walking around the markets. The rooftops were slick with ice that had melted just a little in the morning,and now laid over with greyish snow. It was deceptive, how warm he thought his jacket would be in this weather. The wetness in the air makes the cold pierce through thin lined suits, even with layers to add thickness. The smallest hole let in cold air, even the slits where his buttons were pushed into their loose slots, seemed like open rips, straight to his skin. His cotton tie was cold to the touch when he brushed a snowflake off of it,belly against the slanted roof, where he'd had to clear a spot for himself to avoid higher chances of hypothermia, especially with the wind picking up. Unfortunately, without a mop, he couldn't prevent the pack of cigarettes in his pocket from getting soaked. The ache from the cold, and in his stomach was ignored, in favor of following a head in the crowd. It would be a while until Munich would clean up the festivities and this glitzy shut-in would disappear for another year. He came early. At the time, he was working down a hit list for a client that was going to pay him well for swiftness. It was a revenge that wasn't his own, and therefore, paid handsomely. But there's always someone with roughly the same amount of cash, looking to take out a rival. Two birds, and one bullet flung in his direction that made him skitter away from his rifle. He was younger back then, jumping and bailing on an operation would save his life faster than trying to locate where the bullets were firing from. The problem with being so reactive is that you miss key details, and for him, it was the patch of re-frozen ice that he stepped down onto, and his foot giving in at just the wrong moment. Spinal damage would've been catastrophic if he'd fallen off, but his ankle refused to agree. It made him crawl back in agony to the window, narrowly missing bullet after bullet. Managing the steps was a rush of adrenaline, to get out fast, and use all the weight he could afford onto the banister. A pole just outside the door kept him upright for seconds, until the very moment a familiar face came into his view, now in high definition and barely affording him a once-over before taking a flourishing step ahead. To anyone else, he looked taken aback by her chic beauty on a blistering cold day, so badly, that he fell again, into the hands that would lay him into a warm bed, cuing six weeks of recovery.

Not only was she someone of taste, but of heart, too. The irony made him silent, trying to remain uninteresting to the woman who had a dozen photos or more circulating in the papers of the man she'd caught in a deathly swoon, had she not caught him. She'd deemed herself his savior, and filled the silence of her guest room with simple English, which was met with affirmative grunts, or exasperated shaking of his head in the beginning of those long weeks. He learned her name, likes, dislikes, the fashion opinions of the time, her loneliness, the missing pieces of her family, and romantic view of the world, despite it all. She was vain, but naive. She learned that he was always hungry, and could be bribed with a bowl of anything that had meat as the main dish. Whatever filled the hours between, in turn, kept her away from flashing cameras, and she could keep him responding and talking if there was food involved. She learned that he had a sense of humor, and could be charmingly irritating on purpose, once she started to learn more of the language. In the end, it wasn't his finger on the trigger when her end came. But it was his bullet, and that was all his employer needed to sign the check over to him.

#crushed cigarettes:ooc #experthiese #Hi sorry this turned into a mini fic thanks #feel free to ask him about it if your muse is in the Gang

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gtamoneydrop · 10 months ago

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#gta money #gta mods #gta 5 money #gta 5 online #gta online

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hooman4ever · 3 years ago

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!NSFW! ‘Some Whore’ Danny, Jed Olson |Ghostface| x Male Reader

Requested by elijah the high waisted man he got feminine hips on Ao3

Lightly edited bc it’s 2am and I’m tired.

Contains: NSFW, Hand Jobs, Masturbation, Outdoors, Exhibitionism Kinda, Voyeurisms Kinda, Ass Cheek Fucking (Idfk what you call that), Refers to Danny as Ghostface, Pre-Relationship

This is horribly risky— you thought, biting your bottom lip.

Currently, you were hiding out in a small closed-off area hidden in a basically useless loop, a hand shoved down your pants as you fisted yourself, looking for a quick release. “Fuck-” you gasped out eyebrows scrunching together. Pleasure rolled through your body making your mind grow fuzzy, only thoughts of cuming on your mind.

Throwing your head back your skull knocked against the wall you were leaning against on shaky legs. Your orgasm was so close you could practically taste it on the tip of your tongue. Just a few more strokes and you would-

A slow clapping pulled you from your hazy state of mind– a choked noise spurred from your lips as your eyes widened. Quickly pulling your hand from your pants you stumbled, turning to whoever had caught you in such a sinful state. A white mask caught your gaze and panic-filled you.

Red light flooded the ground just in front of you as your heart beat like a jackhammer against your ribs, adrenaline filling your veins. The urge to run flooded your body yet you froze.

Ghostface was blocking the only exit out of the corner you had pushed yourself into. “Gotta say– I love a good show,” He paused unsheathing the knife clasped to his thigh before letting the blade dance in the artificial moonlight The Entity created “but this is just offensive. I’m out here working– and you’re getting off in the corner like some whore?”

Fear pulsed through your veins yet your dick still found it to twitch the derogatory name twisting your insides in a pleasurable way that had you accidentally keening before you could stop yourself.

Pure and utter mortification was what you felt– your face noticeably paling– as Ghostface was silent his posture now rigid. His eyes were boring into you through the mask and you could feel the heavy gaze, it was too much. You let your eyes drop down raking over Ghostface’s body before stopping.

“Seems like I’m not the only whore here,” you retorted, your voice shaky as you glanced over the noticeable bulge in Ghostface’s pants.

A startled gasp flew past your mouth as gloved hands found themselves on your body. One was placed on your navel the palm pressing down into the skin there as the other sat loosely around your neck. A silent promise of what Ghostface would do if you mouthed him off again.

“You sure about that, sunshine?” he mussed his voice dangerously low as you felt hot breath– puffing out from his mask fan on the shell of your ear. “N-no–” you said weakly, trying to take back your earlier statement.

“Thought so,” Ghostface’s hands tailed down to the hem of your pants his fingers dancing along the hem of your bottoms. “Now, let’s see what I'm dealing with here.” not even a second after the words left his mouth Ghostface was pulling down your bottoms and briefs, letting the clothing pool by your ankles– letting his fingers wrap around your length.

He hummed appreciatively his eyes trailing down between your legs. “Not bad– I thought you would be smaller,” he taunted giving you a few lazy strokes to silence any rebuttal you could have given. His grip soon turning firm– his movements falling into a dizzying rhythm that had you uselessly bucking up into his hand.

Ghostface worked expertly against you, drawing out breathy moans and unintelligible pleas along with the slick noises accompanying his quick controlled strokes. With a yelp, your knees buckled as your orgasm shook your body making you lurch forward hands fisting the front of Ghostface’s jacket as he fully wrapped his free arm around your waist holding you to him. Your seed dripped from Ghostface’s hand to the ground but he paid it little mind. His hand on your member not stopping till you fully spent, whimpering from overstimulation.

His hand receded allowing you a few moments to catch your breath.

Spinning you around and pushing you forward Ghostface made you fumble— your hands scrambling to find purchase on the wall you were now facing before your face could make contact with the surface. His hands were on your hips, resting there and holding you so your back was slightly arched your ass on view for his greedy eyes.

Ghostface moved his hand down rubbing a cheek and giving it a squeeze “Think I just found my new favorite view,” Ghostface murmured his words accompanies by a harsh smack. “Ah-” The sudden pain flaring through your behind made you jolt forward hands balling into fists.

Both Ghostface’s hands moved to your cheeks fondling you. His hands were warm on your body– it was nice. One hand left your flesh shortly followed by the rustling of clothes and the buckle of a belt being undone. Ghostface’s hands were back on you as you heard pants fall to the ground.

You felt Ghostface grab both cheeks, spreading them apart and exposing your entrance to him. “God- you look so fuckable, it’s killing me.” he groaned through stuttered breaths “If only I caught you jacking off outside of a trial. Then I could take my sweet time with you, baby boy.” you felt Ghostface’s length slide between your cheeks his head brushing over your hole.

The plastic of Ghostface’s mask made contact with the nape of your neck “This’ll have to do for now,” he whispered more to himself than you as his hips thrust forward.

He used you like this, rutting between your cheeks and moaning quietly down your back. The flushed tip of his dick occasionally stimulating your rim and teasing you till you were pushing back against his movements.

Every low moan he let out had heat pooling in your stomach. “Gonna paint your skin,” Ghostface’s voice was audibly strained, his movements speeding up till his hips stuttered and stilled– a loud moan flying from his throat– his seed shooting up your spine. The warmth splattered your skin mixing with your sweat.

His hands slid up your sides as his ragged breathing gradually slowed alongside yours. A chaste warm kiss was pressed to your shoulder his lips pulling away from your skin before you could fully process his actions. Begrudgingly the warm body once pressed against yours was gone as quickly as it had come leaving you vulnerable to The Entity’s simulated environment.

You let yourself fall to the ground, Ghostface’s release sliding down your cheeks and back.

The first blood-curdling scream brought you from your afterglow bliss, throwing you headfirst back into the reality of things.

You don't know what had just happened between you and the killer known as Ghostface but as you got decent, wandering off into the darkness in search of a gen you could only hope for a sequel.

#dbd #Dead by daylight #dead by daylight ghostface #dead by daylight x reader #dbd x reader #danny jed olsen johnson #danny jed olsen x reader #danny is a bastard but its alright #danny jed olson x male reader #danny x male reader #danny x male #danny jed olson x male #ghostface #ghostface x #ghostface x reader #ghostface x male reader #ghostface x male

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neonun-au · 3 years ago

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opening night | vernon chwe

pairing: vernon x reader genre: pure fluff, friends to lovers, musical au warnings: nothing word count: 1.6k

for @followmylane 💐 hey tay! it's me, your carat admirer hehe im sorry it took me a while to get this out. it has been fun chatting with and getting to know you over this little snatch of time here, and i really hope you enjoy this little fic hehe :))

The sounds of the audience as they file into their seats from the entrance filters out to you as you stand backstage, fingers twisting around each other as the nerves grow with each passing second.

Opening night was always brimming with so much emotion.

The feeling of anticipation that had been building up in yourself and in the rest of the cast and production over months of rehearsals was palpable. Each night inevitably ended in everyone gathering together at some unsuspecting restaurant, (loudly) discussing what the best parts of the show were going to be. You could almost taste the excitement in the air—flavoured with concession stand popcorn and fountain soda.

The worries of the unknown that hummed through everyone involved. Regardless of how prepared you felt–how much practise you did, how many times props had been tested and re-tested–there was still always a chance that something might go wrong. It coated the collective anticipation with a thick veneer of anxiety while you waited for the audience to settle into their seats for the show and wouldn’t dissipate until you were bowing, hand in hand on stage, with the rest of the cast at the end of the night.

You lived for these moments. For the soft, humming glee that infected the cast as you got your makeup done and costumes fitted. The adrenaline rush that coursed through your veins at the sound of the band rehearsal. Those few minutes of tense silence just before the curtain lifted for the first act. You swore that there was nothing more terrifying or exciting than those few moments.

But tonight there was something else brimming under the surface for you. A thought more than a feeling. Tinged greyer and greyer with a hint of distress as the seconds ticked down to showtime–’what if he doesn’t show up?’

You hadn’t ever invited Vernon to one of your shows before–due mostly to scheduling conflicts, distance, and a desire to keep him as far away from any potential embarrassment on your part as possible. Finally though, after years of putting it off, you bit the bullet. He was back from university for the summer, aimlessly wandering around the town you both grew up in, and you had finally found yourself in a role that wasn’t merely ‘background character #2’. There was no excuse not to invite him.

“10 minutes to curtain everyone!” You hear the voice of your stage manager as it chirps through your thoughts, pulling you back into the present moment.

“Is he here?” Seokmin asks, leaning over next to you to peer through the curtains and into the steadily growing audience. You feel the velvet of his costume brush against you as he does so.

“I haven’t seen him,” you reply, trying your best to hold back the sigh of disappointment that threatens to escape your throat.

“Maybe he’s just running late?” Seokmin drops the curtain, turning to you with an optimistic grin. You nod and return the gesture with your own half-hearted smile before turning your gaze back towards the crowd.

Vernon was someone that did things in his own time. This was a fact you had come to know (and mostly love) over the many years you had been friends. He took his time, slept whenever, and never felt the need to hold himself to a tight schedule or routine unless he was being paid to do so.

But he was always there for the important stuff.

That time you broke your leg in middle school and he biked from his house all the way to yours with a half-eaten bag of chips and your favourite chocolate bar.

After your first break up in high school, when you called him crying at 10:45pm from the park near your house and he showed up with a speed you didn’t know he was capable of.

When you got accepted to university in a different city from him and you weren’t sure what that was going to mean for the future of your friendship. You hadn’t realised until that moment how much you had depended on him. He was a pillar in your life from childhood. A steady and stable force that kept you as grounded as you possibly could be while your head was always floating in the clouds.

And again after your second break up in uni; when he drove an hour out of his way and took you silently (and immediately) to the nearest Denny’s to fill your face with as many pancakes as you wanted. It was that moment, finally after years, that you realised maybe you depended on him as more than a friend after all. Maybe these break ups were going to remain inevitable until you could fully admit everything you had been feeling towards your best friend. It dawned on you, like a ray of sunlight peaking through grey clouds, as you watched him stare blank-faced and exhausted into a pool of maple syrup collecting on his plate and you couldn’t help but laugh. At him. At you. At all of it. At how all of your worries about not still being friends were for naught as he sat across from you at 1:00am in a sticky, red booth.

Extending the invitation for him to come to your first show was meant to be you dipping your toes into the water of possibility. You didn’t know it when you had given him the ticket–just how much you were anticipating him seeing this side of you. Someone vibrant and alive–doing something you loved. The best version of yourself that you could offer him.

“5 minutes to curtain,” the stage manager calls out, sending another dagger of despair deep into your heart with every word. You had thought this might be another one of the ‘important stuff’. It was for you. But maybe that feeling only ran in one direction.

“Don’t worry,” Seokmin smiles, clapping a solid, gloved hand on your shoulder, “he’ll be here.”

“It’s fine,” you finally let the curtain fall completely. Hope fading as you turn and face Seokmin with as bright of a smile as you can manage. “There will be more shows,” the words feel bitter as you speak them out loud.

“Come on,” he says, nodding towards the dressing rooms, “we have a few finishing touches.” You nod and follow behind him as he weaves through production assistants and other cast members waiting in the wings until he stops dead in his tracks. “Did you hear that?”

“Hear what?” you ask, confusion taking over as you glance around.

“You can’t be in here!” a panicked voice cries out through the wings and you turn towards it immediately.

You feel your heart soar before you even see him.

And when he finally does appear–brown hair tousled and windswept, hands clutching a half-destroyed bouquet of flowers–you think your heart might burst entirely out of your chest.

“Vernon,” you whisper, hiking up your skirts and all but running towards him at the edge of the stage entrance. “What are you doing back here?”

“I’m sorry I’m late,” he stops at the top of the stairs–barred from entry mostly by the body of one of your production assistants as he tries to nudge him back out into the hallway.

“Did you run here?”

“Yeah,” he nods, frantically trying to catch his breath.

“Wow,” you laugh, eyes wide with surprise at the rare sight, “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you run in my life.”

“I wanted to wish you luck,” he offers you a lopsided smile before immediately grimacing and correcting himself, “or break a leg or whatever I’m supposed to say. Sorry.”

“Thank you,” you breathe, feeling all of the emotions of the night building to a crescendo inside of you as you lock eyes with him.

“2 minutes to curtain! Places!”

“I guess I have to go,” he chuckles, glancing at the increasingly annoyed assistant barring the way. “Good lu–break a leg,” he thrusts the bouquet of flowers towards you before stepping back down the stairs and you watch dumbstruck as he leaves.

“Thank god,” the frantic production hand next to you sighs, “I’ll put the flowers in the dressing room. You get in place, the show is about to start.”

You turn to head back into the wings but Vernon’s face won’t leave your mind. On a whim you spin around and race down the steps after him–buoyed by a wave of adrenaline as it courses through you and hums at the edges of your body. “Vernon!” you shout, catching him just outside the door and flinging yourself unceremoniously into his arms.

He lets out a soft ‘whoa’ at the sudden impact and before you can stop yourself you let your soaring heart guide your lips to his.

It only takes a second for him to right himself. To wrap his arms around you and pull you in deeper. He returns the kiss in earnest and you swear there is no feeling that could beat this moment. Not even the terrifying excitement of a first show.

Someone calls your name backstage and you tear yourself away from him, smiling up at the slightly dazed expression on his face before turning and running back into the wings just in time for the band to strike up the overture.

The show ends that night in a flurry of applause and flowers. Exhilaration buzzes through the cast and crew as everyone changes out of costume, wipes off make-up, and discusses the success of the show.

The joy continues to buzz through you as you step out into the cold night air and see Vernon leaning up against a lamppost. He holds his hand out to you as you approach and you take it happily, grateful for the ease in which you slip into a place that maybe you were always meant to be in together.

#seventeen fluff #kwritersworldnet #svt x reader #svt fluff #vernon fluff #vernon x reader #seventeen x reader #svt scenarios #svt imagines #vernon scenarios #vernon imagines

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omgreally · 3 years ago

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I’ve been reading mandos intergalactic taxi service and UGH✨💕 the pining and fluff with the intimacy smut is just chefs kiss your writing style is amazing🤌🏽✨ I’ve been in such a Din mood lately, could your write like a confession drabble where the reader and din are pining for each other and din is dropping hints but the reader is like really not a hint taker lol pretty please with a cherry on top 😭💕 smut or fluff your choice I know you’d write it so well!!

BLESS YOUR HEART @liltangerineart and thank you! Next chapter of Taxi Service should be up tomorrow I hope!

In the meantime I hope you like this? Not a confession as such and more, uh, top!Mando than I intended, but he is bad at dropping hints. I like to think he would be very...straightforward 😎

Din Djarin/F!Reader - E - 1624 words - Oblivious!Reader, Infatuated!Din, frustrated yearning, angst and, of course, smut.

It's getting ridiculous.

He is a Mandalorian, one of the most fabled, the most feared warriors in the galaxy. Rumour and danger follow him as he charts a path through the galaxy that blazes bright, leaving behind myth and legend - people whispering things like 'I heard he killed a whole troop with his hands tied' and 'I heard he was eight feet tall, made of steel'.

He is a Mandalorian, who has never had to rely on anybody but himself - and yet here he is, sweating beneath his cowl whenever you brush too close, trying too hard to inhale the scent of you through his helmet's filters, memorizing the sound of your laugh.

It's like he's a foundling again - uncertain, insecure, nervous. And they’re not butterflies in the pit of his stomach - they’re bullets from an ancient slugthrower weapon, and he can taste metal at the back of his tongue whenever he tries to talk to you.

“Do you have someone, back home?” A clumsy overture, as obvious as it is stupid; Din winces beneath the helm but you don’t seem to notice - you just shake your head and shrug.

“No. Just me. I wouldn’t have left otherwise.” Loyal, he thinks, and the bullets in his stomach sting just that little bit harder.

He tries asking you more about yourself. How you became a bounty hunter. How many weapons you’ve handled. The different kinds of ships you’ve flown. Places you’ve been. But you never give up anything truly personal about yourself - you’re a cypher.

Maybe that’s why the Mandalorian finds himself strangely drawn to you.

He doesn’t know how to navigate this - not really. He has no experience with this kind of thing. It’s always been about the next quarry, the next job, and then it was about the kid, and now…

And now he’s stuck.

He wants to hit something, break something, feel the impact of his fists against flesh and bone. He settles for balling them up whenever you’re around, biting his tongue, and waiting til later to jerk himself off in pathetic, clench-jawed silence in the refresher.

“You slept late,” you point out the next morning as he emerges, stiff in more than one way, from his bunk.

“Couldn’t sleep last night,” he says, and he’s so tired, so frustrated that he adds, gruffly: “Bed was too empty.”

“Probably need more pillows,” you muse as you wander off to the kitchenette. “Cup of caf?”

“Extra strong,” he grunts as he leans a shoulder to the wall, and you’re oblivious to his glower.

“Coming right up.” A minute later, you press a mug into his hand. “I’ll leave you to it. No need to go hide, I’ll go find a bulkhead to look at while you take your helmet off.”

You grin at him, and he stares at you. You’re just about to turn away when he reaches up, and you go still, your smile slackening in shock as he thumbs the release latch under his chin.

The helm’s pneumatic seal hisses as it lifts, just enough so he can get the rim of his mug up and to his lips. He takes a long, slow pull, and while his vision is eclipsed by the rim of the helmet at the moment, he knows you haven’t left.

As he expects, you’re still there - staring at him as he lowers his helm back into place. Your mouth is even slightly open - lips parted - and he watches the dart of your tongue as you wet them before swallowing hard.

“I’m just...I’m just gonna,” you say, abortingly, and start to back away. You jump as your shoulder hits the hatchway. Din watches as you turn, hesitate, then hurry away, your shoulders squared defensively as if you can feel the force of his gaze on your back.

Alone, the taste of caf hot and bitter on his tongue, Din Djarin grins.

After that, he starts to notice. He starts to notice how tense you are when he’s close.

At first he’s not sure - but then, once, he deliberately brushes your waist as he moves past you in the cockpit to take the pilot’s seat, and you’re still standing there, frozen, when he glances back at you. You brush it off, but it happens again when you bump into him coming out of the fresher. When he reaches over your head in the kitchenette to fetch a ration bar from a compartment. When you lean over his shoulder to point out the coordinates to a refueling station. When he catches you yawning, falling asleep in the passenger’s seat.

“I’m going to hit my bunk,” you say, rising to your feet, your arms stretched above your head. Din turns slowly, and he catches the glimpse of a sliver of flesh as your shirt rides up. The words escape him before he’s even conscious of their existence.

“Want some company?”

Dank farrik, he’s been dropping hints and touches for ages - and he knows you’re affected by his presence, he’s sure of it now. They might be closer to butterflies for you, but his bullets are bouncing around in his gut right now.

“What?” you ask, half-laughing - as if it’s all some grand joke. “You gotta stop with the innuendo, Mando. I might get the wrong idea.”

“And if it’s not innuendo?” He’s flicked the ship to auto-pilot - on his feet - looming towards you. You’re caught in the hatchway, unable to step backwards to fall down the ladder, unwilling to turn your back. "If you've got the right idea?"

“What?” you repeat - licking your lips again. Your eyes are flicking back and forth from his visor to his hands. It’s almost like you're expecting a fight.

“I want to fuck you.”

The words are matter-of-fact but delivered in a low baritone, a gravelly rasp that lifts the hairs on the back of your neck. You stop breathing for a second - he can see it - and your leg twitches, just half a step backward - but then you swing it forward again, swaying towards him. Like he has you in his gravitational pull.

It’s all Din needs. He closes the distance between you, his gloved hands closing around your biceps, the leather worn and warm through your shirt.

He says your name, once, in a digital growl that curls your toes in your boots. And then it’s like an explosion - it all happens so quickly; there are hands and clothes everywhere and then on the deck, and in the aftermath you are in the Mandalorian’s arms, naked, your legs around his waist as he presses you up against the bulkhead.

His chestplate hits the deck - his flak jacket lifted above his head when you let him stop touching you long enough. You barely have time to appreciate the feel of his naked hands on your skin, cupping your breasts in his broad, smooth palms, thumbing your nipples all-too-briefly before he’s sliding down the zipper of his flight suit and baring a V of muscled flesh all the way to his groin.

“Mando,” you gasp as he frees his cock, as he maneuvers the throbbing, purpled head to drag through your slit. He finds you open and wet, lips parted for him, and he groans as he nudges against your fluttering hole. He doesn't hesitate.

He pushes in slow, for he’s a lot to take, thick and hard and the stretch is almost too much. You whine, your voice high and tight in your throat, and he soothes you with soft little noises and praise that makes you feel light-headed.

“Shhh, that’s it,” “You’re so fucking tight-” “Made to take my cock, mesh’la" and other words you don’t recognize. Eventually, he’s all the way inside you, his pelvis flush to yours, the scratch of hair at his pubic bone pressing into your mound.

You pant in his arms, eyes squeezed shut, a thin resin of sweat risen on your brow. “Move,” you order through clenched teeth, and finally you open your eyes to meet his visor and demand, “Fuck me, Mando.”

And he does - withdrawing his hips from the welcoming cradle of yours, his cock dragging back through you, and you can feel every ridge and vein before he’s spearing back in, jarring your back against the bulkhead. It’s a shock right through your system, and you can feel adrenaline flooding your veins, your blood pumping faster like you’re fighting for your life. You might as well be, for he does it again, and again, and soon he’s setting a punishing pace that hits against something soft and devastating deep inside you.

Your orgasm hits you like a blow you fail to dodge - winding you, knocking the air from your lungs - and for a moment all that matters is the blinding flash of pleasure through your nerves, the rolling wave that makes your cunt flutter in rippling spasms around the pulsing rod of his cock. He pins your hips with another vicious rut of his hips and then he’s coming, too, releasing into the impossible grip of your body, groaning with every spurt of spend he fills you with.

“Fuck,” Din summarizes, once you both can catch your breath - once your legs start to loosen, jelly-weak as he pulls out gently, lowering your feet back to the ground. He’s suddenly nervous - worried he’s fucked this up, done the wrong thing, lost patience and paid for it with your scorn.

But your smile is brilliant as you beam up at him - your face radiant - flushed and sweaty. You are beautiful.

“Next time, don't waste time dropping hints,” you tell him, and then you reassure him with a laugh, and the wonderful feeling of your arms around his neck.

For a while, he just holds you close. And for a while, the bullets in his stomach are gone.

#806 followers celebration #din djarin/f!reader #din djarin/you #din djarin smut #mandalorian smut #the mandalorian fanfic #mando/you #mando/reader #din djarin x reader #din djarin x female reader #din djarin x you #mando x you #mando x reader #mando smut

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soulcheri · 7 months ago

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"Oh." Intrigue dances behind light brown eyes. She'd be lying if she said his words -- I don't now what you taste like. Not yet. --- didn't cause her knees to press together just to stave off whatever warm sensation was pulsing between her thighs. He could claim all he wants that he wasn't doing anything or he was innocent but, he's a well trained sorcerer in seduction. Teasing, taunting, alluring her with his mere existence.

The magnetic energy he felt buzzing between them, she felt it too. It crackled like the same fire they sat in front of the first time he kissed her.

In hopes of hiding her arousal and building up a protective shield, she takes a different pillow and holds it in front of her chest right between her lap. If he wanted to taste her, or get to her - he'd have to go through it first.

"A lot of things, like...?" She's not immune to the way he says her name or the suggestions behind it. Hearing him moan it was like experiencing heaven itself. "Wait, you street race?" Clearly, Lo left that part out about him. Which was sort of ironic because it was at a street race where Lo first met Brooke face to face. When she showed up with Volchok, Romeo, and Isadora. "I didn't know that. But, I guess I can sort of see it now." He was all adrenaline. The epitome of a bad boy. AKA: her greatest weakness. But, also any girl's really.

"Were you even listening the last time we talked about this?" she teases. "I set the tone for Lo, while I never exactly encouraged her to follow in my footsteps." That didn't stop her from doing so anyway and trying to one up Naomi in the process. "I was a very bad girl, once upon a time. After the whole ... adoption thing, I spent a year in Italy making use of my fake I.D. I snuck into clubs, went home with strangers, got so high I once woke up in a park and had to walk back to my apartment alone, wearing only one stiletto." It took her a few days to overcome the blisters her poor feet endured. "I once got arrested for stealing a dress from Givenchy. It was after my parents attempted to cut me off for blowing off school and throwing my allowance away on sex toys. Which, to be fair I only purchased during a bender so half of them I didn't even know what they were or how to use." She laughed just thinking about it. "Good times though. The old me, you wouldn't have recognized her." As she looks down at the pillow in her lap, she picks at a loose thread in the corner. "Sometimes, I miss that girl. The freedom and take no prisoners attitude she possessed. But then, somewhere along the way I told myself I should probably set a better example for my sister. Not that it paid off clearly, because look at us now..."

"Oh it's me? I'm the culprit? That's so typical." His voice remains lighthearted and playful despite there being some truth behind his words. Tyler got his first tattoo when he was fifteen so he was seen as a bad influence and troublemaker throughout most of his adolescence. "I do not have a romantic stare. That's ridiculous." He returns her teasing by lightly shoving one of her knees as they sit across from each other on the couch. If Naomi were expecting more customers they might mistake the two of them for frolicking teenagers and leave.

"I'm not doing anything!" While laughing, he grabs one of the couch pillows and taps her with it. "And for the record..." he holds up one finger, "...I don't know what you taste like. Not yet." She might be ruling out the possibility of them hooking up again but he wasn't. There was this magnetic energy pulling between them. It was unfair to anyone around them because when they're in the same space, everyone else disappears. Riley could walk through those doors and he wouldn't notice. She could even speak his name and he wouldn't hear it.

"My motorcycle." He repeats with a half-smile. "I drive a lot of things, Naomi." He uses her name like it's sex itself. He wasn't going to forget how hot and bothered she got when he was moaning in it in her ear while bringing her to the brink of insanity. "The Chevelle, I won in a street race and it's been my prized possession ever since. The motorcycle I bought when I was first adopted by a rich family. I thought, might as well go all out." He thought they were going to kick him out within a week. So he went a little crazy with the family credit card. "I take it you like motorcycles?" He remembers Gage had one. He would always drive it to the construction site when he didn't have to pack the van full of supplies. "I do want to hear more about this bad girl phase. I always thought Lo was the troublemaker. What's the craziest thing you ever done? Have you ever been arrested?"

#❝ chara ╱ naomi hendricks.#❝ pair ╱ naomi + tyler.#❝ thread ╱ no restraint.

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kaidraws69 · 6 months ago

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AGNI LORE DROP

Full Name: Agni Pele Ignatius

Meaning of Name: Fire god

Nickname(s): NiNi (by his little niece)

Birthday: 4/14/1996

Gender (Assigned Gender, pronouns, and if they’re trans): he/him/his

Species: Mount Rageon

Race / Ethnicity / Nationality: Goyle

Eye Color: Red

Skin Color: dirty red

Hair Type: silicon dread-type

Hair Color and Length: Orange- shoulder length

Build: Thin and tall

Age: 28

In School? (If so, what grade): N/A

Height: 10’7”

Weight (vs. what it’s supposed to be): 100 LBS

Healthy? Why or Why Not: Agni is in very good shape and health, dispite his disability

+===×===×===×===+

Do they like their name?: yes

How old do they appear?: 28

Glasses?: no

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+===×===×===×===+

Core Personality Traits: highly territorial, sarcastic, so passive-aggressive it hurts

Daredevil or Cautious: daredevil

Selfish or Selfless: a mix of both

Major Strengths / Pros: durable, strong, risky, territorial, wants things done his way

Major Flaws / Weaknesses / Cons: stubborn, doesn’t care if he gets more scars, will fight and murder anyone who gets in his way

Likes: his job, close friends, a handful of Rageons

Dislikes: Rageons who call him out, insult his work, employees, or close friends, low quality work

Good Habits: Loyal, protective, damn good at what he does, if you’re buddies with him, you get discounts

Bad Habits: too many to name lol

Sexuality: Omnisexual

Opinion on Sex / Relationships: open to them

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Powers(?): brute strength and a thick skull

Weapon: horn(s)

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Taste in Clothes: he really refers the light, loose clothing. Tank top, cargo pants, work boots

Hobbies: welding/construction, forging, smithing

Favorite Sport: Ram-headding (it’s a Goyle thing)

Favorite Game: the Rageon version of CoD

Favorite Genre of Music: rock/ metal (anything aggressive)

Favorite Class: ig he teaches welding?

Favorite Food: Anything spicy

Favorite Person / Role Model: himself

Celebrity “Crush” / Secondary Role Model: he’d kill me if I told you

Quote(s): “You was in my way”

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Family Situation: separated parents, no contact

Best Friends: Nova, Apollo, Lito

Friends: Bro doesn’t have a lot

Enemies: succubi Rageons

Crush: again, he’d kill me if I told you

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Phobia?: atychiphobia (fear of failure)

Deepest fear / the worst thing that could happen to them / what would break them?: losing his arm and part of his left horn

What are they reluctant to tell people?: His past

The worst thing (currently) in their life: coping with his traumas

The best thing (currently) in their life: his friends and work

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How do they feel about themselves?: Agni is very proud of himself

Are they the same alone?: absolutely

How does the character try to differ from how they actually are?: he doesn’t

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Fun Facts (Miscellaneous):

Agni lost part of his horn in a territory fight while butting heads

#trolls band together #mount rageous #under rageous #Agni #mount rageon oc #oc lore

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softkuna · 4 years ago

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Toji Fushiguro || Toy || Fic

The Sukuna one had me like ✨✨✨ Now I must ask, can you- a toji x fem reader and him seeing Gojo eyeing up what's his and her responding to it and then toji being like oh hell no and basically railing her as punishment (degrading kink please it makes me jello) you don't have to write it if your not comfortable btw take your time and stay safe.

Content ║ Toji Fushiguro x Fem Insert. Toji’s shoulder pressed into the wall with such a force the damn thing could’ve dented. Arms crossed tensely against the broad puff of his chest. His teeth ground together, the sound of squeaking canines reverberating in his mind. Toji was seething. For a man with the physical prowess of a god, his tolerance was about as thin as a wet napkin. A wet napkin this woman decided to poke a well-manicured finger into.

Count ║ 1,311 words.

Consider ║ NSFW. Degradation Kink. Objectification. Female Insert (she/her). Alcohol. Grammar issues. Basic degeneracy.

Creator ║ So this is the first NSFW thing I have done like this ;v;. I’m not sure if this hit the mark for ya Anon, but hopefully it’ll do until I can get some more practice. It took a little while since I wasn’t exactly sure what I was doing. Honestly this just feels subpar gomen. Enjoy jealous Toji, though -finger guns-.

The club was barely lit with black light and neon strewn about the solid concrete walls in seemingly random intervals. A particularly bright hot pink one cast across her collarbone, dowsing the tops of her breasts deliciously in contrast to the black latex dress. As much as Toji would like to shove her against that very wall, she had a job to do. For him. And he regretted it.

She was pushing her luck when she approached the table with a certain sway to her hips. Gojou peered around the tinted sunglasses, brow piqued in interest. She flashed a smile, smoothly setting a large bottle of some random high percentage alcohol onto the table. Sliding into the booth next to Satoru, the woman leaned a hand on his leg, the other moving to playfully snap the strap of a birthday hat under his chin, “I hear it’s someone’s birthday?”

His head tilted up along with the corners of his lips, “Guilty as charged. Are you my present, doll? Always heard the hostesses here were the best,” His voice purred against the thrum of the bass. She tucked hair behind her ear, eyes flickering back to the ravenette with a dangerous composition. The corner of her mouth twitched up at the obvious frustration resonating in the man. He couldn’t touch her. Couldn’t even dream of it if he wanted any semblance of information on this guy. It was the perfect opportunity to test a theory. Toji was the jealous type.

Toji’s shoulder pressed into the wall with such a force the damn thing could’ve dented. Arms crossed tensely against the broad puff of his chest. His teeth ground together, the sound of squeaking canines reverberating in his mind. Toji was seething. For a man with the physical prowess of a god, his tolerance was about as thin as a wet napkin. A wet napkin this woman decided to poke a well-manicured finger into.

He slammed down a shot, the burn at the back of his throat accompanying the burn of his own gaze. She wasn’t anything to him aside from an in. Yet somehow, the not-so-shaman made it a point to speak with her at least once a week, which usually lead into fucking her like a play thing. The lay was just as good as the information she could pry out of loose mouths. Immaculate. This go around, he needed information on someone in particular. Someone who just so happened to be here with a group. Someone who decided it would be a good idea to get a little handsy with his toy.

“Y’know,” Satoru murmured, “’s pretty sad to be alone in bed for my birthday.” Chilled pads of his fingers rested at the back of her neck. His gaze was hungry and she was a full course meal. Just his type. Perfect shape, perfect charm, perfect headrush. Her hand cupped his ear, whispering something his buzzing mind couldn’t fully piece together against the dense music.

She kept up the sweet act despite not getting a lick of information. The only dirt she dug up was that he could finish half a handle before getting buzzed. By the end of the night, Gojou’s hands squeezed at her thigh like he did her last string of patience.

The last thing Toji saw was the exchange of cards.

As the black-clad hostess passed by Toji, her hand trailed along the muscles of his chest, stiletto nails pressing just slightly into him. He followed close behind until they got to their regular spot. A private room tucked into the corner of the club. Commonly used for rich men thirsting to empty their wallets on a good lap dance. It was sound proofed, dimly lit, and somehow hot pink velvet was a prime design choice to set a steamy mood.

She crossed her arms, gaze hard as the door shut, “So, I’ve got bad new. He didn’t let a word slip-“ The sentence stopped as soon as it began.

“So doll’s got a sense of humor, huh?” His voice held an edge to match the snide smirk flashing over pointed canines. She knew exactly what was up and oh was it a dangerously delectable sight. One that made her cunt throb on nothing but adrenaline. The crease of his brow, the way his lips set into that hairpin curl, the tensing of each thick muscle along his arm – all of it leaving a sense of satisfaction in the pit of her stomach. Theory confirmed. He took a step closer; she didn’t shrink away. A lost challenge if he’d say so himself.

A large calloused hand shoved her onto cushions of the booth, catching her open mouth in his own with a bruising force. The man wasted no time with his prodding tongue, tasting the sweetness of peppermint and lapping it up while fending off her own slick muscle. A hand snaked into the roots of her perfectly done hair, white-knuckling just at the base of the skull. With a sharp yank, her head was yanked back, allowing break for air. Smug and breathless, she chimed, “Jealous?”

Toji blew air out in a single blackened laugh, “I’m not one to share my toys.” Teeth connected to her lips, rolling the flesh then moving to her throat. Purple marked his territory trailing down. The heat of his breath tickled the space directly next to her ear, “Now, you’re going to beg for me to forgive you. Make myself clear, slut?” Toji’s grip on her tightened, “Or is doll better for something getting used?” A rough tug to the back of her hair triggered a low moan from her heaving chest. After so many sessions, she knew he didn’t really want an answer. He wanted a reason go harder.

The hand once in her hair now gripped her jaw, keeping her gaze on him, “Answer me, toy. Or do I need to pull a string to make that cock-obsessed mouth move?” On que, free digits wrapped around the gusset of her thong, second knuckle just grazing the entrance of her heat before he pulled the sodden fabric taught, letting it snap back to place. The impact triggered another empty clench and gasp. Her hips writhed, a sappy pout puffing the bitten lips. More.

Toji maintained her heavy-lidded stare as he brought the knuckle to his lips. He watched as her own parted when his tongue swept up the sweetness collected at the joint. The way her hips rose to match the zipper’s height, the lock of her teeth on her finger, the desperation in her eyes – all of it made his stiffened cock twitch against her adorably hopeless grinding, “Looks like my toy is broken. Guess I’ll just fuck the apology out of it then.”

A wicked grin whipped onto his handsome face. Her mouth opened in rebuttal, only to get interrupted, “This is to teach a lesson, toy. What did you do to deserve the prep?” The gravel in his tone grew slightly dark, “Couldn’t even get the dirt I paid for.” His long digits did work past the gusset, slipping over her entrance, gathering the arousal, “Look how wet you already are for me.” A heated coil pressed in her at the words. She knew what was coming now and every inch of her craved it.

In what seemed to be a single motion, jeans and boxers were torn down. Her dress was hiked up with a satisfying peel, thong quite literally ripped off and thrown to the ground before she was flipped so that her back was pressed against his chest. Sturdy, veined arms wrapped at the backs of her thighs and under her knees. Truly, she was a doll for him to pleasure himself on and he made it a point to do so.

Toji lowered her so that the thick tip of his length pressed against her heart-beating heart. Her walls fluttered around him as he slid in. “For a broken toy, you’re pretty damn tight for me - ready to be played with. Get used- fuck.” Amusement broke through as she bit back a breathless sigh. His cock filled her easily, slick sliding down his shaft and pooling at the base. As he fully sheathed himself, he craned his neck forward, lips pressing at the shell of her ear, “Now, I want to hear you beg, bitch.” With that, the man snaked back and up, setting a relentless pace from the beginning. The sound of skin slamming into wettened skin filling the room along with the aroma of arousal.

She was stubborn. He was tireless. They’d both cum before the apology even had a chance to.

#🥩 .ask #🥩#🥩 .fic #🍺#🍺.ask #jujutsu kaisen #jjk #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk x reader #toji x reader #toji fushiguro #fushiguro toji #satoru gojou #gojou satoru #gojo satoru

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dreamifics · 3 years ago

Text

Steve Harrington x Reader

Casuality

Just some fluff, angst and smut

Warning: mentions of alcohol, mentions of sexual activity, a little cursing

How did me and Y/N ended making out in my pool? Bad decisions and booze, that's the answer. I wanted it to stop, but it was good.. Too damn good. I can taste in her mouth the bitterness of the alcohol we drank a while ago. The mix of beer and vodka was still lingering in her mouth.

My hands run in her legs, as her hands tug my hair. There were fire igniting inside us, it was burning with lust and adrenaline. A low moan escapes her mouth, this added fuel to the fire inside us. We both knew that we'd regret this in the morning, but we didn't stop.

Y/N Henderson..

I'm close to her brother, but not to her. We fought monster beside each other, she was close to Robin, Nancy and Jonathan. But not to me, that's why I'm surprised when she arrived in my doorsteps, alcohol in her hands.

"Hey, Steviee!Wanna run around town and get smashed?"

She caught me off guard but I agreed, I was always intrigued by her. I never noticed her in high school but she seems to know everything about me.

"Oh, come on!Steve!I'm not stupid!I know you use that shitty shampoo and conditioner!"

"It's not shitty!It's the real deal!"

"Whatever, let's go back to your house and take a dip in your fancy pool!"

My mind snapped back as we moved to my bed, Y/N's heavy breaths and low moans was all I could hear from her. We drop in my bed, we knew were going to spend all night here. The sheets wrapped around our naked bodies, legs entangled with each others. Moans filling the room, sweats dripping from our hot naked body. We were drunk and stupid. Sobriety and rational thinking was out the window. This night was filled with bad decisions and bad decisions only.

Days have passed since that night, we decided to continue the relationship but we're keeping it casual. We're now sitting in my car, music blasting on the stereo on a low volume. She was looking blankly on the window as I drive her to campus.

"What are you thinking about?" I questioned, snapping her out of her trance. She smiled at me as she relaxed into the passenger seat.

"Whatever your thinking about.."

"Dustin moaning really weird last night?" I joked causing her to glare at me.

"No, but now that's what I'm thinking.." I chuckled at her response as I paid attention to the road.

"Hey, do you want to have a sleep over tonight?"

"Sleepover?What are you ten?Do you also want to braid each other's hair and have a pillow fight?" Her witty remarks always get me laughing, that's one thing I like about you Y/N..

"Come on, we're not gonna be sleeping anyway.." I pleaded.

"Ooh, Stevie gonnna give me the lovey dovey!" She said in a baby voice. Gotta admit, that was weird as hell.

"Oh dear god.." I mumbled under my breath.

"What's that Harrington?" Her glares could literally kill someone, I just gave her an innocent smile, she just rolled her eyes.

"Nothing.."

"I'll see you tonight, then.."

A comfortable silence filled the ambiance of the car, if I know Y/N and I think I do, she'll try to rummage her brain for something to talk to--.

"What was Dustin moaning about?" There it is..

"Oh dear god.." I just shake my head in amusement.

The first time I had ever seen you cry was the day we got home from campus, snots and tears were everywhere. I never saw you cry, even when we almost died twice while trying to save the world. Not a one single tear, but now your here infront of me. Tears in your eyes, as you sobbed into my chest. I don't know what to do, should I comfort you?

"What happend?" I finally asked the lingering thought in my head.

"I saw Dad with his brand new family.."

Y/N's father..

I never really met him but to what I gather from Y/N and Dustin is that he's a coward. He left his family to be with another woman.. Putting the three of you to emotional trauma and abuse.

"I'm sorry.." That's all I could say..

"After all what he did to Mom and Dustin, he have the audacity to be happy while Mom cover up the pain with cats.."

"I hate my dad, I swear if he ever comes back, I'll feed him to the demogorgons.. Why does this always happen to me? Can everything be just fine again?"

I hate seeing her like this.. What should I say? I can't really relate to her, my parents still stood by me.

"I'd do whatever I could do, if you want to get wasted, I'll do it with you, If you want to burn your dad's house, I'll be down with that. Just don't cry, I can't stand seeing you like this."

A small laugh erupted from her, moving beside me, she lay her head into my shoulders.

"Thanks for the reassurance Harrington.."

"That's what I'm here for.."

"Come on Steve, let's make out in your pool.." Y/N stands up, and gave me her hand, I gladly accepted it.

"Why do you have to ruin the mood?"

"How's that ruining the mood?If anything, I'm building the mood." She said in a sultry and teasing voice. I rolled my eyes, does she think I'll get turned on by that. She was crying just a moment ago, she was releasing snots.

"I think you have daddy issues, love.." It was her turn to roll her eyes.

"We all have daddy issues.." I grab her cheeks and peck her lips.

"We both have daddy issues, then." She just gave me the most precious smile that ever existed.. Oh, God. How I love you.

The first fight we had was also our last, it was your birthday. We were hanging out in your room, laying in her bed as the television played Star Wars. The pale moon was dancing all throughout the room, I knew there was something bothering me, we've been doing this for months, keeping everything casual. I'm growing tired of the constant thought that someone will take her away from me.. Don't get me wrong, I love Y/N, I'm not sure how she feel about me though. Y/N's like a close book, hard to read. So many things that I wish I knew, but there's so many walls that I can't break through. ( Where the swifties at? )

"Are you okay?" Y/N soft voice pulled me out of my head.

Am I really okay?No, why? I want us to be in a committed relationship, where someone can't take you away from me. That's how much I love you..

"Nothing, just thinking about us.." A small smile tugged in her lips as she scoot closer.

"What about us?" She asked, her brows wiggling.

"Being casual and all.." The smile she had falter, she moved away from me, running her hands through her hair.

"You know I'm not ready yet.."

"You always say that."

"Steve!I can't have this exact same conversation with you over and over again!" And here we are, fighting.. The anger inside me flicked open, I know it won't do good but I still went ahead and got mad.

"Why can't you say it once?!" Our shouts echoed through the whole house, her Mom is probably worried about her.

"What can't I say?!" She asked confused and angry at the samw time.

"That you love me!" The whole room suddenly got quiet, the look in Y/N's face was hard to read. Are you shocked? Scared? Angry? What? Do you love me like I love you? Please, say the words that I want--no, what I need to hear.

"Steve, we both know that we agreed to keep things casual.." She finally spoke, but not the words that came out was not what I needed.

"Casual?We've been together for almost a year now, how much more casual do you want it to get?"

"I--Steve, I can't do this now.." She backs away from me, opening her door wide open for me to leave.

"Why?" That's all that exited my mouth..

"Because I need space!" She snaps, a involuntary scoff left my lips.

"Space from what?!We barely have a relationship!"

"Just get away!I can't believe your pressuring me!" She shouts, but I stayed to say the words I'll regret..

"Let's just end whatever the fuck this is!"

"Fine!" She screamed as she walks up to me and pushed me out of her room.. Reaching the end of her door, she pushed me. I stumbled but managed to bounce back, before I can even say another word she slammed the door. And there's that..

"Steve?" Dustin came out of his room, a worried expression painted in his face.

"Are you and Y/N okay?"

"Yeah, it's just a--" I stopped at the middle of the sentence, my mouth refused to let the words escape.

"A what?" He questioned.

A break up..

"Nothing, it's nothing.." I lied..

I didn't know why I couldn't say the words. I clearly never wanted this to happen, I didn't know what happend. And I can't take it back, what's done is done..

Life with Y/N was hard, but life without her is much harder. Was I in the wrong? I shouldn't have pressure her, all I wanted is to go up at her house. But Dustin told me, she was really busy with a lot of schoolworks. Where did it get so complicated?

I was walking home when I saw Y/N, just standing in my porch front step. She seems fidgety and nervous, those sweet eyes seem to notice me. Y/N was wearing one of my Van Halen shirts, with a short and just some sneakers. You always looked beautiful in my shirts..

"Steve.." I love how she says my name, but I love it more if she screams my name. Flashes of her naked body grinding on me suddenly appeared on my head. This was not the time but I couldn't help it. I miss her..

"Hey.." I greet..

"I just wanted to--"

"I should be the one apologizing, I shouldn't pressure you like that.." I cut her off, I'm right. There's no need to apologize, I was in the wrong. I pressured her when I agreed to keep it casual.

"Still, I'm sorry too.." Y/N was always nice, never letting her pride get in the way of her life.. An eerie silence once filled our conversation, I never wanted this but maybe..

"Maybe it's best if I give you the space you nee--"

"I love you.." She cuts me off..

"Huh?" My mind went blank, my eyes blink rapidly as I try to sink in the three words you just dropped.

"I don't need space, I love you Steve Harrington.." She confessed cheekily, a small smile appeared on our face.

"I love you too.." She just smiles at me, but she was waiting for something. What is it? A ring, maybe? But this is not a proposal..

"What are you waiting for?Kiss me."

Ohh, right.. The way I moved was slow, I think she grew impatient because you pulled me and our lips collided into one. The way your lips was covered in the strawberry chapstick I gave you, this was my favorite thing in the world. I slid my tongue, it danced with yours. I pushed you in my door, opening it in the process.

When it burst open, we celebrated by going into my bed. Pushing Y/N into the bed was pretty arousing. We didn't need words or foreplay, we're pretty straightforward. Our lips once connected again, heavy breaths and low moans was all I could hear.

We slowly undressed each other, our lips was still intact, rushing into things was never really your motto. I felt your skin made contact with mine, I felt the heat from your body. My hands were making their way to her tender breasts, I slowly massaged it until the nipples turned like tiny stones. A loud moan came out from her mouth, I couldn't resist and licked them, biting them playfully. Another moan came out from her sweet lips, I stopped as I took out my hard and mounting manhood, I rest it unto her thighs. Y/N sits up, looking at me with questions in those eyes.

"What happend?You got tired?" Y/N whisper in her sultry voice.

"Taunting me?Really?"

Before she can even respond I got on top of bed and smirked, your naked body was softly laying in my bed. This made me harder, you're so perfect in every way. My hands are already in your legs, spreading it wide and open. I can see you closing your eyes at my touch, I drove my two fingers inside her. She moans with the contact it made, eyes rolled in the back of her head. I ravish her breast with my mouth as my fingers interact inside her.

"Fuck, Steve!"

I was hitting the right places, she was twisting left and right, her hands were gripping my sheets, I pulled my fingers out and replaced it with my organ. A loud piercing moan escapes her lips as I pump into her, every thrust was in sync with her breathing. I slowly grunt as I pump harder and deeper into her, I yank her legs back, as my other hand gripped her ass. I dug myself further into her, setting off another shattering moan.

"Steve, faster."

I increasing the speed, she wrapped her arms around my back, her nails digging into my skin. Pain and Pleasure was a great mixture for me. I hit every possible spot inside her, the nails dug deeper as I thrust harder and much more deeper. The speed increased once again, as I feel both of our climax building up inside, it can explode any second now. Every thrust I make, every moan she screams, and every sweat that drips was a cherry on top.

"Fuck, I'm coming!"

With that we both exploded into each other, I felt a warm liquid flows between her legs and mine. A small smile appeared on her lips as we were both out of breath, her hair was all disheveled.

"Well, that was fun.." She whisper, her voice hoarsed from all the moaning she did.

"I can see.." I joked causing her cheeks to blush..

"Shut up!"

I pulled out, she shivered at that action. I laid next to her, she looks at me with love and compassion. She pecked a kiss in my lips, cuddling besides me as the moon peaked through my windows. Y/N deserves every love and adoration in the world, I'm going to marry you someday..

This is my first smut ever, I hope it was..nice? If there's anything wrong I did in the smut, you can tell me, I'll do anything to improve it! I also accept request, any characters! Marvels, DC, B99, FRIENDS, Criminal Minds, TBBT, Community, basically anything! I accept anything! You can leave a comment or give me an ask!

Taglist

@sydneekomspacekru

#steve harrington x you #imagines #steve harrington x reader #stranger things #smut #steve harrington smut #oneshot

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curmudggeon · 3 years ago

Text

An Unexpected Encounter (Arthur Morgan x Female Reader)

After receiving an invitation to the mayor's Gala party, you encounter the one person you despise the most, Arthur. Just when you thought your rivalry would get any more infuriating, he comes along and one thing leads into another or maybe even into something more...

“Fuck it.”

Word count: 3.1k

Warnings: Minor spoilers of 'The Gilded Cage' Mission, Vulgarities, Alcohol, Guns, Violence, and Sexual intentions

A/N: Honestly, I didn't know where I was going with this. It's been quite a while since I've written. While playing through this mission, I was thinking of an enemies-to-lovers type of banter with the whole glitz and glamour of the situation. I hope you enjoy it or maybe not...

The grand music by the string quartet swelled into the elegant ambiance of the evening. With Saint Denis’ high society gathered together into one establishment, being invited into these types of conventions was a rare opportunity. You managed to get in the mayor’s party through close connections within the city. It was a chance to get your hands on valued pickpockets from pompous rich people; away from the hassle of collecting useless bounties.

The mansion was rather extravagant as you entered; unique architecture and expensive pieces of artwork looking out into the outskirts of the city. The scent of liquor, cigars, and the deep aquatic plants of the Bayou was intoxicating.

Defying all the odds of 1899 fashion, you wore a dress that had a slit on the slide of your right thigh that was high enough to hide the spare gun that you managed to sneak in despite having to surrender the rest of your weaponry at the entrance.

The mayor’s servants eyed you closely when you laid out your revolvers in front of them, since it was apparently absurd to witness a woman carrying such hefty guns. Winking at them as you moved away, you scowled under your breath at their suspicion and avoid being further searched. It was your only option of protection in case a fiasco had broken out in the middle of your pickpocket adventure.

Conversations started to tune out the music in the background, the heads of married men turned towards your direction as you made your way through the party, striding with utter grace and elegance to catch the eyes of your potential suitors to steal from.

Grimaced expressions were coated on the faces of the women while examining your revealing choice of clothing. You stood beside the refreshments, holding a free glass of champagne, as you glanced at the group of women engrossed in conversation regarding the lady that came into the establishment. You.

Raising your eyebrow as you sipped on the champagne, you gave them a firm nod headed their way, causing the litter of southern belles to widen their eyes at your acknowledgment and quickly disperse from their conversation. Real smooth.

It was the kind of attention you had gotten used to. After all, being the only woman bounty hunter in the city wasn’t normal in the present day’s context. Opting for a more reckless and freer lifestyle gave you a sense of adrenaline; to escape every expectation of conservative American society. You felt entitled to be who you are and wanted to be. A free woman. You started making a name for yourself in this city, bounty after bounty until one particular man decided to show up and defeated all your means of survival on the jobs you took on...

Arthur

The sound of his name left a sour taste in your mouth. He was the reason why it started to get progressively difficult collecting bounties. When you showed up for a $100 bounty for the leader of the Lemoyne Raiders, Lindsey Wofford at the abandoned fort, that is how you met Arthur. You were outnumbered. Deciding to team up with him, was the last thing you should’ve done. He was charming at first, but then came the point when he handed over Lindsey’s body to the police, betraying your efforts to help attain the bounty as he kept the prize to himself. So much for being handsome.

The moment bounty posters were displayed, it became a competition to get to them first. He would capture or kill them before you did. The feeling of immense frustration struck you as he flashed that lazy, crooked smirk of his. Arthur tipped his hat to you while collecting his reward for the day.

“Asshole.” You muttered under your breath, unable to contain the urge to lunge at him for beating you to it. The glimmer in his eye resembled the commencing of his mockery towards you.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t quite catch that. Princess.” His eyes shined with amusement along with that stupid grin of his slowly widening at your reaction. Oh, he is so not going to see the light of day any time soon.

Your anger was at its peak, ready to set off and wipe that smug expression off his face. You couldn’t let him have this, not this time. Within a blink of an eye, you reached for your pistol and aimed it at Arthur’s head with ease.

“You take that back.” His face slowly turned south as his grin disappears upon my demand. I thought so, too.

“Woah, Woah, young lady. Put the gun down,” The policeman warned as he stood with his hand out to coax you into dropping my line of fire and from blowing Arthur’s brains out in front of him.

Ignoring the warning, you focused on Arthur, waiting for his apology. After a long pause of silence, his face slowly distorts, as if he can’t control the outburst of emotions flowing within him.

He’s

He’s laughing?

Your eyebrows furrowed even further as he slowly bends his arms onto his knees as blurts of laughter simultaneously start to escape his mouth. The policeman was surprised at the sudden change of atmosphere, as he stares at Arthur like a madman. He walks away, shaking his head as he retorts lowly, “I don’t get paid enough for this job”.

Rolling your eyes, you were annoyed at the fact Arthur doesn’t take you seriously. Even as your rival, it was unbelievably childish of him to do so. He continued to wheeze as if I’m the biggest joke in the whole wide world. “Ha ha. Very funny, Arthur”

A small smile crept up your mouth as you lowered your aim of fire and place it back into the holster at the round of your hip. You had to admit, he had one of the most contagious laughs you have ever heard, but that doesn’t mean you should lose your guard against the one person you despise the most. In defeat, you left the police station before he had anything else to say to mask yourself in humiliation.

“This changes nothing, I’m still going to beat you.”

A few glasses of champagne and pickpockets later, you managed to get your hands on some gold rings, silver-plated watches, and money off drunkards that made their way to you. They were easily wrapped around your finger to steal behind their back. The men surrounded the area as they unwind into the evening with very little knowledge, of what’s coming to them. You secretly stashed the contents of your pickpockets into your purse while walking away from endless conversations about politics and the weather.

Getting bored by the events occurring before you, in the corner of your eye you spot the mayor; Henri Lemieux by the fountain.

Hoping to make a name for yourself in this city —and probably pickpocket him, you make your way to his location. With elongated and purposeful sashays, you stopped in your tracks when you heard footsteps following behind you.

“Hey, little troublemaker.” His voice resonated through you.

Within a split second, you knew that warm, gruff voice anywhere. Frozen in your tracks, you closed your eyes and mentally cursed to yourself as you just got caught red-handed.

In front of you was your shadow cascading on the brick flooring of the garden as Arthur’s tall and burly figure enveloped yours under the dim moonlight. He was directly behind your back, just barely touching the exposed skin of your shoulders. You could feel the warm heat radiating off of him, making you shudder.

Slowly turning around to acknowledge his presence, composing yourself with utmost annoyance to resist the intoxicating proximity in between.

"Oh, it's you." He chuckled at your sarcastic remark as you admired his ravishing appearance. He donned a well-fitted Tux that hugged his biceps perfectly, along with the slicked-back hair from the usage of pomade to style it.

The view of him was a refreshing sight. Seeing him in such a way, despite the usual boyishly rugged blue shirt of his, that shaped his figure well tingled on your skin. He smelled of musk and wildflowers. The scent caused an involuntary sigh out of you before you could realize what you had just done.

"It's nice to see you." Slightly grinning, he stared at you closely. Holding eye contact as he took in the sight of your appearance. Before you stared at each other longer than the both of you had anticipated, fireworks had burst in swirls up in the sky. It caught the attention of guests as they watch the beautiful night sky be painted with streaks of vibrant colors. Comments of amazement filled the air.

Shifting your gaze back to Arthur, you felt like your heart had stopped for a mere second. What?

Arthur had already been staring at you, and your face started to slightly warm at the realization. As if on cue, at the side of the fountain was the mayor and his servant, quietly arguing. You eavesdrop only to hear the contents of the discussion 'Cornwall' and 'horse's ass'. Bingo. You knew anything that had to do with the wealthy man was a big deal to make out of. And definitely would come with something worthy to steal.

As the servant departs away from the mayor, Arthur was already making his way towards him to find out more information. Oh no, you don't.

You follow behind discreetly with the same intention before he finds something more useful than the already invaluable pickpockets in your purse.

Making way back through to the entrance of the Mansion, Arthur makes his way upstairs to the staircase leading towards the mayor's office, as you follow shortly after.

He enters the office quietly as he jams to open the locked drawer with a letter opener on the table. Slowly, you make your way to lean against the door frame, crossing your right leg over the left one to increase the view that revealed your exposed skin with a revolver strapped to your thigh. Preparing to display your disapproval of his actions, you fold your arms as he voices out the contents of the letter. "Mr. Leviticus Cornwall... Top secret… Extremely confidential. Very interesting."

"Very interesting, huh?" His head quickly turns in my direction upon the sound of my voice. His eyes widen. Gotcha cowboy.

Smiling innocently at his reaction, you slowly tilt your head the opposite way of the door frame, awaiting his response.

He pauses for a while as his gaze reaches your face as it makes its way through the revealed skin and revolver coyly making an appearance to him. Breaking off his stupor, It takes him a few seconds to process your actions as you walk towards him.

“What’s that?” He turns his back to prevent you from have a closer scan of the confidential document. Trying to reach it from out of his hands, he turns in another direction, holding the document up in the air far from your reach.

“Nothing useful,” he says in a matter-of-fact tone as he remains amused at your multiple attempts of stealing it from him. He looks away from you, dodging any suspicious allegations you might get just by narrowing your eyes at him.

“If you’re trying to hide it from me, sure as damn means it’s useful.” You hiss at him to hand it over as you continue trying to get up to his height to retrieve the ‘useless’ document out of his hands. Giving up, you stop your actions as an idea had come to mind. A stupid one.

Removing the revolver off your thigh, you pointed the gun at his foot to threaten him into giving you a glimpse of the contents of the paper regarding Leviticus Cornwall.

“I’d love to see you try,” His deep blue eyes sparkled as he challenged you with delight. Arthur knew you wouldn’t dare to pull the trigger and risk another catastrophe to happen at the mayors’ mansion.

Fireworks outside the window started to quieten down and conversations start to resume back to normal.

The sound of a key unlocking a door from another part of the office fills the room.

You look at Arthur with a slightly panicked facial expression. He folds the document neatly and places it inside the inner breast pocket of his tux as you quickly strap back your gun to the side of your thigh.

Arthur moves swiftly past you and grabbing you by the wrist before both of you get caught.

We make our way through the hallway and down a few steps down the staircase to get as far away from the office as possible. The soft tones of speaking at the end of the stairs traveled just at the rounded corner of the wall, nearing the both of you. Heavy stomps became louder and louder at the top of the staircase. You and Arthur were dead in your tracks, standing in the middle of the staircase, as your only two options of escape were far from reach. It was a dead end. This was a day you would go to jail, the both of you.

“Fuck it.”

And he kisses you. Hungrily and ever so desperately.

Pushing you against the wall as his hand cups the back of your neck bringing you close to him while the other was lowering to grab the exposed leg through the slit of your dress and cling it to the side of his hip. Your heart was beating out of your chest, ringing into your ears. And you were pretty sure he was able to hear it too. Not being able to grasp the situation, your stunned eyes fluttered shut, forgetting the entirety of your surroundings with his lips crashing on yours. Arthur’s lips.

There was no denying your attraction towards Arthur, from his physique to that annoying smirk of his that kept you on edge, it was hard to pay attention to the rivalry the both of you shared. Sometimes neither of you noticed the longing but yet despising looks you and Arthur exchanged. You thought you were being delusional, but It always seemed to be so much more. An indescribable magnetic force, pulling and pushing away from each other.

His stubble along the sides of his jaw skimmed the surface of your chin, inviting a light hum to alight from your lips from the contact. It made him smile against your lips, enjoying your compliance with his actions. Unable to resist, you grabbed the ends of his suit into fists, bringing him closer as his hands explored the map of your skin. Just like a predator devouring its prey, you lightly moaned as the warmth of his skin against yours created an inexplicable connection. A grunt escaped his mouth at your reaction to his touch. Kissing you harder, his hand gently slid up the exposed skin of your leg and over your—

"Ahem,"

Breaking off your kiss, a look of disgust was plastered onto the face of the servant, stumbling upon a couple who can't seem to get a room.

Regaining consciousness, you realize the highly scandalous position the both of you were in. You against the wall, arching your back with your hands resting on his heaving chest. You look down, noticing the strap of your dress that had tipped of your shoulder, which revealed your cleavage a bit more than it had already displayed. And his hands, at your waist and up your thigh reaching, Oh. Your face turned bloodshot red.

In a protective stance, Arthur leans forward closer to shield the tantalizing sight of your appearance to the man who had caught both of you at the top of the stairs. Furrowed eyebrows and eyes of infuriation were headed his way.

"Oh, heavens" a group of maids that reached the staircase, quickly shuffled away to busy themselves with other things than going through the second floor of the mansion.

“Pardon me for the intrusion, but this area is strictly out of bounds.”

“Well, I don't see any signs suggesting, so”

The servant raises his eyebrow higher with arms crossed, emphasizing how ridiculous his comment was.

Arthur grumbles, “We’ll be on our way”

The man’s heavy footsteps move past us, giving you privacy to freshen up whatever articles of clothing that was out of place

Hesitant to make eye contact, you observed the bow tie that hung around Arthur’s neck like it was the most interesting thing you had ever seen. You could feel his intense gaze drilling holes into you as his eyes did all the talking. The air was thick, making it hard to breathe as each second passes by. There wasn’t an inch of space left between the both of you, except for the slight distance aching to be met at the lips. His fingers lifted your chin to divert your attention back to him.

You could see the reflection of yourself drowning in the deep seas of his cerulean blue eyes. His gaze lowers down to the swell of your lips. Momentarily, time stops moving, it was the climax of something different. Something exciting, that the hatred you had spent building up for him was collapsing. Something you couldn't quite pinpoint.

There’s a gravitational pull pulling us closer and closer…

The basis of physics was no match for the two of you.

Lips barely grazing onto yours as light music soars in the background,

“Arthur!”

He stops, painfully closing his eyes to the familiar voice that constantly put him to work.

The tension breaks like a gunshot piercing through the air, pulling you out of your daze and back into reality.

What the fuck just happened?

Arthur groans and smothers his face into the crevice of your neck. His arms tightening around your waist, holding for dear life like you were going to slip away from his fingers. Gibberish left his mouth, whining like a child being awoken from his slumber, as the voice that yelled for him gets louder.

You couldn't handle the position you were in, he was so close to you. Your heart could burst any time soon from his touch. It was nothing you had ever imagined with him, nothing you had ever experienced before. This feeling was new.

“I have to go” her murmurs barely under a whisper, only for you to hear. Arthur lightly kisses the skin of your shoulder to signal his departure. The sensation tingles as he separates away from you.

The initial distance that was so close between the both of you was now a little too far away for your liking. Leaving you at the staircase, he looks back at you.

Our eyes meet, and it’s only the two of us, and from this point onwards, everything changes, and you find yourself longing after his lips.

Maybe for once, things could change.

Maybe we can change.

Us.

part 2-?

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yandere-flower · 3 years ago

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Savory Berries and Sweet Cream

It’s here, a Ezra fic which I have sadly put off for far two long. I just got really inspired last night and happy to provide this 4200k word fic for ya!

Quite a bit of Ezra backstory for you simps

He could fondly remember the exact moment when he wanted to become a baker. Perhaps he didn’t quite know it at that moment, but he knew that he wanted to explore everything that life had to offer when it came to baking. Most of his childhood was so monotonous; His father would wait for him in the kitchen, expecting Ezra to be up and dressed and at the table to eat the same bland oatmeal or the occasional cereal. Nothing sugary of course, he has to take care of himself after all . They’d sit in silence, with an occasional remark about his fathers economist job or a stern reminder about Ezra’s school projects well in advance of their date. He could recall the same boring drive to school, with the rambles of men talking about concepts far beyond his understanding, much to his fathers dismay. He’d walk into the well maintained, beautiful brick private school his parents paid for because his grades were never quite enough to be awarded a scholarship and he’d quietly go to his seat. He would be considered popular, he loved chatting and making people smile but hated when they’d walked off to talk to others. He couldn’t understand why people would go to others if he was already making them happy. He’d find himself zoning out as the teachers droned on, desperately waiting for those sweet 30 minutes of relief that lunch would provide. He’d eat the same boring food the school provided and sit with his few friends at their usual table, and dread the whistle that meant he had to return to class. Counting down the hours til school ended only to be whisked away to his piano class, and then his tutors after that.

His mother would pick him up from school after that, the sun almost done setting as he walked to her car. It always smelled so clinical, her scrubs neatly packed away in her back seat next to her patient files. He didn’t understand what a radiologist was back then, but medicine was never really appealing to him despite his mothers many attempts at getting him interested. He only took piano for her, he couldn’t stand her disappointment after he quit violin, the instrument she played as a child. He couldn’t quite differentiate middle school and high school in his mind, it was always the same routine and the same prestigious school and the same classmates, and he was just along for the ride. But he could recall that moment he finally felt passionate about something.

He was adequate in French, like most other subjects, but he couldn’t deny his excitement for his senior trip to France. He didn’t care about history reports or literature lectures, but the chance to escape monotony and be with his friends in a hotel in another country was the first taste of freedom he’d ever have. The adrenaline he felt as he boarded the plane, the laughter he shared with his friends as they set up their room, he wished he could stay like that forever. He’d find anything fun as long as it wasn’t his normal schedule. But that one bite in the cafe sealed his fate as far as he knew. It was some local historic cafe on a street corner, the kind you go to everyday and they know your name. The kind with pictures of famous people and black and white photos where people are smiling and genuinely seem happy. A place filled with only sweet smells, not yeast or bitter coffee, but vanilla and berries and sugar itself. He could remember that sweet old lady, the current owner's grandmother. She was so proud to share her history with young people, to prepare food for them and stuff their faces with an abundance of sugar. His minimal understanding of French made it difficult to fully understand her story, but he knew it was filled with love. The way she’d describe the berries she threw in the bowl, the boisterous laugh she shared when telling some story about a dairy farm she grew up as she cut some butter, every bit of it felt like love. And when she pulled that baking dish out of the oven and offered him the first bite of her strawberry clafoutis, he couldn’t help but beem at the opportunity. The custardy dessert was so smooth of his tongue, the savory berries mixing with the sugary homemade cream just melded in his mouth. But beyond the technical ability, he felt like he tasted love for the first time in his life. How a random stranger could embed so much emotion into a dish and share it with a stranger was a high he wanted to chase from then on. He wanted to know how she had this power, how he could harness that love and affection and share it with others so they’d always want to stay like he did in that moment. He would beg his classmates to come with him to that bakery for the rest of the trip after that, and cried in the airport bathroom before boarding their trip back home.

He tries not to remember what happened before he graduated high school. He tries to ignore his parents' cautious looks at one another as he’d tear up their kitchen trying to replicate all the beautiful treats he had back in France. No matter how much he tried to replicate, or how proud he was of the result, he could tell by their faces that they never understood his passion. He tries to forget their talks, their “concern” about his lack of respectable plans. He definitely doesn’t try to remember him arguing with his parents when they asked about his college plans and he admitted he didn’t want to go. He’ll give his parents credit however, they still gave him his college fund despite knowing that he was going to travel instead. They would call on the occasional holiday or birthday, but he could tell the distance wasn’t the problem with their communication. He’d like to think his parents would be proud of how he traveled on a budget so he’d have enough money left over to open his dream bakery, but he could never really tell with them. Even as he settled into his new life, things never got better between them.

He wants to say his misses his family, but in reality Ezra couldn’t really tell others what family felt like. As his bakery grew, he’d like to imagine that his employees were his true family. And for the most part, they were. But even they had their own family, or their own futures they’d embark on. He was proud of them of course, especially the young teens who would work the registers. Even if baking wasn’t their passion, he’d like to hear how working there was far better than anywhere else. Whenever they graduated and moved on, he’d prepare their favorite desserts and throw them a party. It was bittersweet seeing them leave, but he had to admit that getting updates on social media and the occasional visit would always warm his heart. Still, he can’t help but desire something more. A true family. And for the longest time he’d thought that was nothing more than a fantasy for him.

But then you came. And if you asked Ezra, you were just as enlightening as the first bite of clafoutis.

You first came into his shop a few months ago, confused and doe like as you shyly walked up to the counter to wait for service. He couldn’t help but think you were the most perfectly constructed creature he’d ever seen. He knew he was charming and social, but those first words he spoke to you fell out of his mouth clumsily as he couldn’t take his eyes off of you. His heart almost stopped when you asked about any job openings. You begged for any chance, wanting to be a baker but knowing you weren’t ready for an apprenticeship. All you wanted was a chance. He savored those pleas, his heart melting hearing how passionate you were about something you didn’t even know much about. You were like him when he was younger. He hastily asked you he was ready to interview you now, cursing himself as he saw you grow red and nervous. He thought he’d scare you away, but much to his delight you agreed.

He memorized every little thing about you in the interview. You were new in town, relying on what litte savings had left after you dropped out of college where you were majoring in a field you had little interest in. You were lost, just like he was. And from what he could tell, you had no family you’d care to talk about. “I want to start new, I don’t have anything for me back home and I want to build a new one��. He remembers every single word of that sentence. He wished at that moment that he could pour his heart out to you, to tell you that he understands what you’re going through and that he wants you to have that future too. He wants to help you build that home as well. But he knows you only just met him, and he wants you to stay. He wants to make you smile and wants you to stay here with him forever.

But god was it agonizing. You were just starting your journey and he couldn’t move too fast lest you feel trapped. He needed you to trust him, to feel safe. Because you were safe with him! He let you start as a cashier, learning about all the items and how to describe things to customers. Of course he’d prepare something fresh for you every morning when you came in, letting you taste the first bite, hoping you’d feel the affection he put into it. He loves watching your lips scrap against your fork as you savor the taste of his love on your tongue. He could tell you were breaking down every ingredient in your mind, hoping to discover the secret. As corny as it was to say, he knew what you were tasting was his love.

You were so dedicated, he loved that about you. You were so committed to being a cashier, and eventually he wrapped your favorite pastry in a box and asked you to be his apprentice. You were absolutely beaming at him, it made his heart throb. He often thought about that look, wondering if you’d look like that again if he gave you something else in a box. If he asked you to be his forever and become his partner. But for now this was all he had. He tried to focus on the good, on those nights where you’d stay late with him and help in preparation for tomorrow. Those mornings you’d come in with a beautiful new idea you sheepishly ask his opinion on. He’d tell you it was great, and do everything in his power to make it perfect for you. If it was up to him, he’d do all the work and you’d just taste test for him, telling him he did beautiful and that you were proud of him. But that was just a fantasy for now, wasn’t it. He hated seeing you walk out the door, hated not knowing where you lived or what you did on your days off. Sometimes you’d talk about hanging with your friends and it burned him. He didn’t know these people, you didn’t bring them around and he wonders if you’d ever talk to them about him. Did you even think about him when you weren’t here? What happens if you feel he has nothing left to teach you? He’d spend his night tossing in bed berating himself for being so eager to share everything with you, wishing he’d pace things out instead and make you wait longer. You were just so difficult to deny. Your sweet lips curling into a smile and your laugh as he shares some silly story anecdote. He wanted to give you the world and all he asked in return was you.

But perhaps that wasn’t true. He didn’t want just you, he wanted to build something with you. He dreamed of how happy you’d be, cuddling together in bed and planning your day. Thinking about what new recipes you’d like to try, of places you’d like to visit, of things you'd like to do together. But he also wanted to give you something you both never had. A family. Little angels that’d you both love and cherish together, who’d you never be disappointed in and who’d you celebrate every day. He wanted to be a daddy and wanted you to see him as your family. He needed to be bonded with you in every way imaginable. He wanted your touch all over his bakery, he wanted your touch all over his home, and god, he wanted your touch. He tried to focus on the happy, wholesome desires. But he couldn’t deny he had others as well. He desired to have your lips, wondering how they felt against his, or on his neck, or heavens above on his cock. He hated thinking of you like that, degrading you in such a filthy way. You’re the one who should be adorned, worshiped. He’d kneel for you and lavish you with his tongue and savor every little taste of you if you’d let him. All you have to do is let him.

He couldn’t sleep anymore, thoughts and worries about you plagued his mind and his self hatred about his constant, growing desire he had for you at night made him feel dirty and unclean. And with summer forcing the situation, he felt on edge all the time. He wonders if you knew how your thin shirt clung to your body as you sweat, or how the bead gliding down your neck was the most intoxicating vision in the world. He felt like a man starving, and you were the only taste that could satisfy him.

That morning, the kitchen was particularly sweltering. His ovens were on full heat to prepare the day's goods, lovingly cooking breads and pastries for his favorite regulars. He wished he could open the windows, but the baking process is a tedious, specific labor of love that he won’t sacrifice for his comfort. Yet despite how uncomfortable he was, he could begrudge the heat for the sight across his prep table. You were leaning over the small fan in the corner of the room, letting the gentle waves hit your sweating skin as you closed your eyes to enjoy the moment. To him, you looked like an angel, bathing in the beautiful rays of a goddess as your skin glows with your own bodily sweat. A chuckle broke him out of his trance, you jokingly saying “I feel so gross, honestly don’t come near me”. He wants to shower you with compliments, make you take back every negative word you said. He’d never want to be away from you, not ever.

You just looked so heavenly. “Honestly, you’re just so beautiful”. He surprised himself as those words flowed out of his mouth, and he just froze in anticipation of your rejection.

But you didn’t reject him.

Well, not technically. You were frozen too, unsure of how to continue. Ezra was charming and handsome and so kind, but was it really a good idea to follow down this path? To pursue something that might end up blowing in your face? No other bakery would take you, at least one that wouldn’t require you to move. You have to be professional, you have to be firm and let him down gently, because you know Ezra can be sensitive.

Yet, lost in thought, you forgot that your lack of response could be taken another way. While you were building the courage to let him down gently, he had taken your silence as an invitation to move closer. Before you could realize, Ezra was inches away from you, his body lingering over yours with a longing in his eyes. With the intensity in his eyes, you wonder if he’s even blinked since he last spoke, his eyes solely focused on your every movement. With him so close, you can smell his natural odor mixed with the scent of freshly prepared vanilla lingering on his fingertips.

You should say something.

In spite of your thoughts, you remained frozen in front of the man who just confessed to you. His eyes still focused on you, and yours on his, you don’t notice his hand come up to reach your chin. Your mouth opens in protest, but he surges down to capture a plea within the embrace of his lips. You’re both stunned by his boldness, unmoving as your lips are tightly against one anothers before he garners the courage to move, his mouth desperately latching on to yours as you feel the sweat from his skin meddle with yours. His tongue finds itself worming its way past your lips, and begins to explore your wet cavern with a more forward approach. Despite the recklessness of his lips, your bodies are still awkwardly hovering by one anothers, so much so that when he breaks contact with you, you feel like you collapse if you weren’t leaning against the counter.

Your fingers curl around the edge in order to brace yourself, your body working ahead of your mind. Your thoughts are scrambled and all you can really focus on is the growing heat in your core. You feel Ezra’s strong hands gently feeling you up, his hands hovering across your thighs to your knees, gently parting them to open you up. Without protest, you realize he’s already halfway done sliding down your shorts, letting them drop to the floor. The rush of cold air on your most delicate spots brings you back to reality, and with Ezra’s gentle gasp of shock you remember that you choose not to wear underwear today to try and combat the heat. You can’t help but get red in embarrassment, as if he hasn't been trying to undress you already. You shiver under his gaze again, him now on his knees as he looks lovingly at your naked self, presented to him for his viewing pleasure. Although it pains him to look away, his face turns slightly and instead of his soft cheek resting against your knee, his lips now meet your skin as he begins to suck on your damp flesh. You want to jump and make him stop, but his fingers are slowly massaging into your skin and keeping you against his lips. He wastes no time reaching his goal, following a trail of sweat up your thing and parting your legs even wider so he can meet your savory center. There’s a pause, a moment of relief before he grips your thighs even tighter and moves forward towards your sex. Teasing your with his deft tongue, lapping at your sex as his fingertips dig deeper into your plush thighs, no doubt forming little love bruises with their pressures.

You can’t help but moan and let your head dip back as he continues to focus solely on your pleasure. Yet even as he drives himself to please you, you can tell by the way he moves his wet tongue and lavishes you with sloppy kisses that he has been wanting this for so long, like a man starved finally being able to feast.

He finally breaks from your sex, you cursing as you felt yourself rising so close to your completion. He rises to met your face, he’s short of breath and you can feel the harsh denim of his pants touching against your bare sex with how close he stands to face you. His fingers still linger over your sex, slowly rubbing circles against your delicate flesh as he uses your fluids to work your hole, a messy sight of his saliva and your moisture and slick combining to help prepare you for something bigger no doubt. One of his hands leaves your skin, making you feel cold with its loss but it instead quickly works on his pants and he frees himself. You dare to break contact with his heavily lidded and lusty eyes to look down at him and see his hard appendage begging to be loved. A part of you wants to showering it with touch, to rub it and kiss it and tell Ezra what a pretty dick he has. You wonder if it tastes as sweet as his concoctions. Except Ezra had other plans, and you were content to let your instructor take charge for today. He’s nervous, you can tell he’s nervous, a little bit of his lips as his hips slowly lock into place to prepare to enter you. It’s agonizing, feeling his hard dick rub against your stomach as he tries to arrange himself perfectly. He always tries so hard to please you, to make you feel loved and perfect. With a few gentle pushes to move your thighs to open you up to him, that gentle and sweet pace is quickly replaced as he surges forward with his hips to enter you. It’s quick and sudden, and you can’t help but gasp at his intrusion, wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling him closer to you. With that he settles his forehead into the crook of your neck, panting into your skin and his pace quickens.

He works his way in deep, plunging in and out to a maddening rhythm, like a man in desperation, like if he stops you’d disappear. You writhe on the counter as his fucks you without rhyme or reason, his pattern feral and sloppy as he works you thoroughly. You can hear him whimpering into your neck, and his wet breath slickens your nape making you acutely aware of how soaked your entire body is. But it doesn’t matter to him, he’d take you regardless of how filthy you feel. Normally you’d feel disgusting, covered in sweat and slick and saliva, hearing the sticky sounds of him rutting into you and flesh hitting flesh. But much like him, you were too enraptured by the indulgence of your lover's body to particularly care this hot, early morning. Somehow, his thrusts become even more erratic as he tries burying himself further into your tight walls. The pounding sensation against the deepest parts of you begins to bring about what is no doubt the end for you, your arms tighten against him and your hips slowly try to match his inconsistent pace. Your body movements encourage him, his speed keeping even though you can tell he’s close as well. With it, your body finally reaches its pinnacle as you groan out in an all-consuming feeling of euphoria, your hole clasping tighter against his cock as he struggles to carry on after hearing your ecstasy. He’s barely holding now, trying to chase your continued pleasure like the devoted fanatic that he is. That doesn’t work for you, no you want your trainer to be enveloped by gratification as well.

“Ezra, please” you manage to whimper, your voice hoarse yet sultry from your repeated howls of pleasure. “Please I want you to fill me”. Your words are driven by desire as opposed to logic, but you can’t help but reveal in those words as he roughly thrusts himself deep into your caverns, no doubt propelled by your words. He mewls into your neck, practically drooling onto your skin as he buries himself in your hilt one final time before spilling himself inside of you, crying out your name as he slumps against you and the counter in a feeble attempt to keep himself up right.

You both remain still, interlocked together and struggling to catch your breath as your post coitus clarity begins to hit the both of you. Ezra regrettably takes his soft member out of you, a sloshing sound of fluids emptying you as it pours down your tights. His face reddens, slightly ashamed as he sheepishly looks around for some kind of clean towel to wipe your body with. You’re still stunned, struggling to breathe normally and clutching the counter in fear you might collapse, but the touch of a soft, wet rag patting down your skin feels so cool and rewarding. You close your eyes for a minute and allow yourself a moment of calm, before opening your eyes and meeting the abashed face of your employer. Before he seemed so intimidating, but now he’s almost mortified by his own desire, internally chastising himself for his forwardness.

“Well that was certainly a sweet treat, what did I do to deserve that?” you cheer, hoping to recharge some of his joyful attitude. He looks at you once more, his tight lips forming into that sparkling smile before he chews at them in a weak attempt to hide his elation. You laugh, awkward and uncertain of what this means for your partnership going forward. You think his energy matches your own, no doubt questioning how to proceed from here. But oblivious to you, your failure to voice your worries only strengthened the bakers purpose to be your forever loving devotee.

#ezra #yandere x reader #yandere writing #yandere scenario #yandere imagine #yandere #fic #mine

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avengerscompound · 4 years ago

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Small Gods: Lazy Mornings - 4

Lazy Mornings: A Captain America Fanfic

Lazy Mornings Masterlist | More Small Gods PREVIOUS //

Buy me a ☕ Character Pairing: Steve Rogers x F!Reader

Rating: E

Word Count: 1958

Warnings: smut (MF, Oral sex, vaginal sex)

Synopsis: Steve Rogers has trouble taking time for himself. When his friends set him up with a person with a very unusual skill, perhaps he can learn that the quiet moments are just as important as everything else.

Chapter 4

Once Steve let go and just let himself get to know you, he actually started to like you. Not just because being around you opened him up to a feeling of soft serenity, but because he genuinely liked who you were. The two of you shared enough in common that he didn’t get that alien ‘man-out-of-time’ feeling that he got around other people. You understood the references he made when he spoke about things from his past. You understood what it was like to not only have been around for much longer than you should be but what it was like to be from when he was from too. He liked your sense of morality too. The way you were connected to other people brought out the best in them, something that Steve believed in but didn’t see as much as he liked. He liked that you saw that part of humanity too and that you could show it to him.

It wasn’t just that you had things in common that he liked about you either. He liked how different you were from him too. He had thought your relaxed nature might grate on him, he was so used to being around the highly strung and he didn’t know if he could even relate to someone as relaxed as you were. He had been very wrong. Your calming nature balanced him, while his more uptight aspect did the same for you. You got him to stop and relax, while he drew you back out into the world for a little more excitement.

Your dates were never high adrenaline, but he took you dancing, and you would take long walks in the park, often including a lazy picnic where the two of you would feed each other things like brie and pieces of fruit. He’d even managed to convince you to go to a ball game with him. It was nice seeing you out of your element and enjoying yourself, and it was nice being out of his element too.

“Do you want to come back to my place?” You asked as you sat cuddled with him in the back of the horse-drawn carriage.

Steve was ready. He was slow to act. He knew that, but with you, he had fallen faster than with anyone. Maybe it was your powers. Maybe it was him that had changed. All he knew was he wanted you. To taste every part of you, and to feel your body wrapped around his as he penetrated you.

“I would love to,” Steve breathed against your ear.

Your eyes lit up and you gave a small, excited wiggle, like a puppy that was about to get a treat. “I’m so excited,” you giggled.

“Let’s lower those expectations, way down,” Steve teased and kissed you deeply.

The carriage ride ended and the two of you got out and he flagged down a cab. It was a short drive to your apartment, but the two of you sat in the back of the car, sharing glances at each other out of the sides of your eyes. The sexual charge between you was palpable, and the fact that neither of you would even look at each other seemed to heighten it.

The cab pulled up and while Steve paid, you waited on the curb. You took his hand and led past the doorman and upstairs.

When the door to your apartment closed behind him, he spun you into his arms and looked down at you. Even at this late hour, it looked like you were bathed in morning light. Almost as if it radiated from you. “You are beautiful,” he said and leaned down and kissed you passionately.

You wrapped your arms around his neck, dipping back as you surrendered to him. He slid one hand down your back and over your ass, it settled on your thigh and gripped it. You leaned into, lifting your leg and wrapping it around his waist.

He lifted you, making you squeak into his lips, but the kiss didn’t stop. He continued to passionately caress his lips over yours as he carried you to the bedroom. As soon as he was in your bedroom, he pressed you against the wall and began to grind against you. You moaned and gripped his shoulders, kicking off your shoes and then slipping back down to the floor. You gripped his shirt and slowly began to unbutton it. At the same time, he unzipped your dress and pushed it down over your shoulders. He tugged it at your waist and the fabric gave and fell to the floor, pooling around your feet.

“Steve,” you whispered.

His eyes flicked to yours and he ground his hardening cock against you again. “Mm-hmm…”

“I’m on birth control,” you said. “And an actual god. So you don’t need to worry about anything if you want to forego protection.”

Steve smiled and kissed you hungrily. The thought of fucking you raw was even better than he thought it would be. He wasn’t the most experienced person in the world but he always used protection when he went to bed with someone. He was excited to try something new.

You went for his belt, but he lifted you at the waist, putting you on the bed and kneeling between your legs. He grabbed the waistband of your panties and dragged them down, nearly snapping the elastic with the force he used. You gasped and fell back, spreading your legs for him. He hummed and paused for a moment taking in the inviting sight of your glistening cunt, open and display for him. He ran his thumb between your folds and rubbed it over your clit in a small slow circle. As you moaned softly, he kissed you, first on the inside of your thigh, and then at the apex, so close to your sex that he could taste it. He licked up your folds, swirling his tongue around to greedily draw as much of your arousal into himself as he could. You moaned arching your back and gripping his hair and more of that heady fluid dripped from you.

He drank it up, sticking his tongue inside you to taste it from the source. Your walls clenched and you lifted your hips, moaning his name as you tugged on his hair. He began to suck greedily, first wide and unfocused, and then narrowing in on your clit. He pulled the little bud into his mouth and lapped his tongue over it, making it twitch in his mouth. He pushed his middle finger inside you and groaned softly as you squeezed your walls around him. He could imagine his cock buried inside that wet heat, being squeezed on all sides as you clenched around him.

He began to fuck you with his finger, curling it and twisting his wrist as he searched for that sweet spot inside you. His fingertips touched down on the spongy surface of your g-spot and he pushed against it hard. You cried out and jerked up hard into his mouth. He smiled around your clit and kept going.

He used his finger to drag over that same spot again and again as his tongue flicked quickly over your clit. The sounds you made got louder and more primal. Your legs trembled and your spine curved off the mattress. With a loud cry, you came, gushing on his chest. He groaned and sat back, his fingers still moving inside you, as your cunt fluttered around it.

“Oh my god,” you sighed as you began to relax again. “Steve…”

“Mmm…” he hummed. “It was good for me too.”

He stood up and as he unfastened his pants you turned around in the bed so your head was hanging over the edge, sticking your tongue out invitingly.

“What are you doing?” Steve asked looking down at you.

“It seems only fair that I reciprocate,” you said.

He bit his bottom lip and ran the tip of his cock over your lips, pumping it in his fist a few times so his foreskin slid back and forth over the head. You parted your lips and flicked your tongue out, flicking over the slit. He hummed and pushed in. You closed your lips around his shaft and curled your tongue. He gently thrust his hips, adding some friction to the delicious suction you were providing. He groaned and his cock began to leak. It twitched in your mouth and he wanted more. He began to thrust a little deeper.

You opened your mouth and grabbed his hips, pulling him in deeper still and guiding him to go faster. He groaned as he watched your throat contort as his cock pushed down into the tight space. He took the hint and began to thrust properly. You mewled around his shaft as he fucked your throat, and he began to pull and tug on your already hardened nipples. It only made your sounds louder and his cock throb harder. He could feel his climax approaching and he pulled out suddenly leaving you blinking up at him.

“I want you inside me, Steve,” you moaned, shifting into the middle of the bed and spreading your legs. “I need it.”

“I’m all yours, sweetheart,” he purred, climbing in between your legs. He leaned over and kissed you deeply, lining himself up to your entrance. The heat radiated from you, drawing him in and with a hard thrust, he sunk deep into you.

You gasped, arching up against him and clenching your walls. It felt like a soft clamp around his cock and he groaned into your lips. He gave you a moment to relax and then started to thrust. You dug your fingers into his arms and broke the kiss, nipped at his earlobe. “Hard, Steve,” you whispered. “I won’t break.”

Steve pulled himself up onto his knees and began to pound into you.

He looked down at you as you began to fall apart for him. He had imagined what it would be like to have sex with you for the first time. He’d imagined it would be slow and gentle. The kind where it was just two people connecting on a physical level. Not this hard and rough fucking that was happening now.

You moved your legs up onto his chest, pushing your hips up so that he could penetrate you even deeper. He groaned, kissing the inside of your ankle, and began to thumb your clit.

You cried out and shuddered around his cock. He could feel you nearing your orgasm and see the tension on your face as it threatened to break. He pinched your clit and all at once your orgasm hit, bucking up hard and crying out. You clawed at the bedhead and your cunt squeezed and pulsed around his shaft, milking him.

He groaned and with a hard thrust, he came, pumping hot ropes inside of you.

You hummed and relaxed back into the mattress, your legs slipping from his chest. He slid out of you and lay down beside you, draping his arm over your waist and pressing a kiss to your shoulder.

“Was that what fucking is like?” You asked.

He looked at you puzzled. “You were a virgin?”

You started laughing. “No,” you said. “But normally… the way I affect people… it’s not like that.”

“I didn’t expect it to be like that either,” he admitted. “That was a first for me too.”

You raised your eyebrow at him. “Were you a virgin?”

He chuckled and shook his head. “No. But I’m usually a little more gentle than that.”

“It was fun,” you hummed and nosed at his cheek. “Tomorrow, we can do it my way.”

Steve smiled and kissed you gently. He felt sleepy and sated, but the sound of waking up with you tomorrow was definitely something to look forward to.

// NEXT

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