#i want to indulge in old habits
Explore tagged Tumblr posts
Text
i drew this ages ago, but it pretty well encapsulates how i’ve been feeling
#probably gonna delete this in the morning#sad posting#tw racing thoughts#tw abandonment#tw depression#tw depressing thoughts#tw depressive episode#i want to indulge in old habits
5 notes
·
View notes
Text
uhh POV you challenged Laine to a 1 on 1 honor duel or something. Rookie mistake, Valen may be a lot bigger but Laine is much more vicious. She won't even bother using magic, she'll just release a can of good old fashioned whoop-ass.
#I've had this idea in my head for a while now. figured i might as well sketch it out#Valen is just like “god my wife is so cool when she beats ass but I don't want to potato sack a grown ass person all the way to town”#Laine is just like “wehehehe i LOVE to beat ass. FINALLY a chance to indulge in old habits!!”#Valen has to drag Laine away from boxing rings bc they have shit to do while she hollers “JUST ONE ROUND JUST ONE ROUND THAT'S ALL I NEED”#sketch#sketch page#doodle#warmup#digital art#digital sketch#digital doodle#my oc art#my ocs#oc art#mini comic#meet my ocs#original character#lgbt characters#lgbtq characters#lgbtq oc#lgbt oc#beepbeepart
4 notes
·
View notes
Text
𝜗𝜚 c!w. sibling issues, reader has a mean!older sister, self-doubt, crying, soft!rafe, one thousand percent self indulgent.
mia - (sister's name)
"what's wrong with you, huh?" rafe cameron's voice came out smooth as butter. you felt him nudge your arm with his elbow.
you only shrugged in response, not feeling all that well enough to use your voice.
you were sitting on the couch of tannyhill, snuggled close to rafe. he picked you up every friday night from your house, then sat you snug on the couch, filled you up with all the wrong kinds of foods and put on whatever movie your heart would desire.
tonight, it was the princess diaries. you'd been excited all week to show rafe the movie you'd adored so dearly. you told him before that you were educating him on all the things he missed out on.
as excited as you'd been all week, rafe noticed that tonight you couldn't seem to so much as train your eyes on the tv.
"you're in a mood." it wasn't a question, more of a statement as he studied your face. you were close to him by all means, hands wrapping around his arm and head leaning against his bicep.
but you were quiet, you had been since he picked you up over an hour ago. you were staring at this one spot on the ground, rafe swore that by the time you looked away, you'd burn a hole in the carpet. "'m not." you answered sheepishly, turning your nose up at him.
he could tell you were trying to put on this brave face, the one you often tried to put on around him, and failed effortlessly.
he frowned at you.
at the beginning of the relationship, you'd been so closed off, not wanting to bother him with all the the things 'wrong' with you. but he thought you'd grown out of that by now.
"c'mere." he didn't give you much adjustment, already pulling you to seat yourself on his lap, where he liked you. this way, you had no way of sneaking away from his confrontation. "what's wrong, huh? what happened to m'girl?"
rafe was so soft, adoring as he traced his fingers up and down your arms, soothing you so gently.
it was the kind of calmness you'd been searching for all day.
he knew how your home life could be, especially with your older sister. you used to be close with her, she used to be your favourite person in the world. and then she got a boyfriend, and well, you don't really seem to know what to think anymore.
he felt your hands paw at his shoulders, almost pushing him away. "rafe, i-i don't―" your eyes began to gloss over, rimming red around the edges.
"hey, hey." he didn't allow you to push him, grabbing your elbows to hold you in place. "what's going on, huh? why you pushing me away?" you huffed out a breath and avoided his eyes, but nonetheless, stopped trying to fight back.
rafe felt his frown deepen.
it broke his heart a little to watch you revert into your old bad habits. but he swore sometimes, you were taking two steps forward with him and then suddenly your sister's shooting you back another five steps. "hey, c'mon, we talked about this." his fingers tapped at your chin. "y'gotta let me in."
you let out this shaky breath that he swore would have been accompanied with a whimper if you didn't have such self-restraint. "'s mia."
and rafe didn't need to hear anything else to know what was wrong.
to be blunt, rafe didn't know what to make of your sister. he knew you cared for her, he knew she would never not be your sister in any twisted universal dimension. but she wasn't exactly nice to you. to be honest, rafe wasn't so sure why you even liked her to begin with. she called you names, she teased you, she yelled at you, made you feel like a big pile of nothing.
then she'd walk into your life again as if nothing had happened.
there was always something going on with her, if it wasn't an argument with her boyfriend then it was something with work and if not that, something silly like not being able to get lunch at the country club.
and somehow, all of her problems seemed to backtrack and land on you.
your parents would often take their anger out on you too, too stressed with everything going on with mia to comprehend what they were doing to you. and you, well, you were too nice to bite back. still offering your sister money when she complained about having none after not showing up to work.
if rafe had known what you'd been spending all your allowance on, he wouldn't have let you take it in cash, he would have given you his credit card and told you very sternly to spend as much as you wanted, as long as it was on yourself.
"sweetheart."
all he had to do was say that name in that soft, gentle tone he used and you were already unravelling.
you were staring at your hands, as if looking for an answer while trying to keep your tears at bay. "she's jus' so mean."
"i know, honey." his hands were grasping at yours, trying to redirect your attention to his face.
and you did look at him, finally you looked up but you had this broken look on your face as you swallowed the lump in your throat. "i ha-have to ask you something." you were speaking all strained, trying not to cry.
rafe, suddenly nervous, soothed out the nerves in your hands and up your arms, across your shoulders to behind your neck. "you can ask me anything, baby. what's goin' on?"
"do you think..?" rafe was patient with you, listening to you choke and struggle on your words but he never once rushed you. "do you think 'm selfish?"
rafe's face contorted, as if he were actually offended that you'd even ask such a question. "what?"
you hiccuped. "'cause i t-try really hard to be nice to everyone, b-but mia said―" you cut yourself off, trying to control your breathing. you were all worked up, the day being too much, everything too overwhelming. "s-she always says that 'm selfish 'n that 'm mean. i don't... i don't wanna be a bad p-person, rafe."
for a moment, rafe was rendered speechless.
it wasn't often that rafe wasn't quite sure what to say, but this was indefinitely one of those unfortunate times.
but he could see that teary look in your eyes, staring into his own. you were searching his face, trying to gauge whether or not he believed you were good. you needed him to tell you. you needed him to believe you were good.
so he took a breath and shook his head.
"you are... by far, the most selfless person i've ever met." his fingers trailed across your cheek, down your chin, anywhere they could touch and skim your skin. "c'mon, baby, mean? you get a little hangry come seven o clock with no dinner in you but even then you wouldn't so much as raise your voice."
you huffed out a giggle, pushing his face with your sleeve-covered hands.
"'m serious." he maneuvered you so you were laying with your back against the couch and he was hovering over you. "you're m'sweet girl. the sweetest girl in the world, yeah?"
"but―"
a kiss planted against your lips shut you up. "no buts." he announced, moving a kiss to your cheek. "you are." then a kiss to the other. "the sweetest." against your forehead. "girl." a pepper to your nose. "in the entire world." and finally a kiss right back on your lips.
you stared up at him like he was worth a million diamonds and he swore he couldn't find anyone in the world that was better for him. it was you, through every universe, every dimension and every lifetime.
"now you say it." at his words, you tilted your head slightly confused. "say you're the sweetest girl in the world so i know you believe it."
another small giggle passed your lips. "rafe, n-no." feeling heat pile on your cheeks with embarrassment.
"say it." you felt his fingers pinch your sides sending a tickle up your body.
instantly, you tried to shove him away. "rafe!"
but the boy simply couldn't resist. he'd been challenged and he wasn't going to give up. "say it!" and he didn't stop pinching you, even when you were a screaming mess of giggles, begging him to stop but the laughter bubbling in your chest suggested he keep going. "all you gotta do is say it, baby."
"'m so sweet." giggling through your faux self-assurance.
however, rafe didn't stop his abuse to your sides. "'s not the full sentence!"
"fine! fine!" you felt him pause and raise an eyebrow at you, waiting. your giggles faded into a lopsided grin. "'m the sweetest girl in the world."
"yeah you are. there's m'good girl." he sat back up into a seating position, bringing your body with him so you could sit against his lap. "feelin' better, princess?"
you nodded against his chest, arms loosely falling around his body. "mm, thank you rafey." he glanced down, watching you yawn against him, perhaps today had been just a little bit too much on you.
he glanced back to the tv which was long forgotten. "what do you say, we go to bed together now 'n finish this tomorrow?"
but he was already picking up the remote to switch it off and your eyes were already fluttering closed with a whine. "no, rafey. wanted you to watch it tonight."
"oh, i know." while picking you up to bring you to your shared bedroom, switching off the lights in the process. "'m just the worst."
"no." you mumbled tiredly. "y'the sweetest boy in the world."
and rafe couldn't help but grin.
yeah, you were definitely the perfect fit for him.
#rafe cameron#rafe cameron x reader#soft!rafe cameron#rafe cameron drabble#rafe cameron x y/n#obx#softbabybelle#rafe cameron imagine#rafe cameron oneshot#outerbanks#outerbanks x reader#rafe cameron outerbanks#rafe cameron smut#rafe cameron fluff#rafe cameron angst#rafe cameron comfort#rafe cameron x reader smut#rafe cameron x reader fluff#rafe cameron x crybaby!reader#rafe cameron x shy!reader#crybaby!reader#shy!reader
1K notes
·
View notes
Text
☆F.U.C.K
Warnings...18+, wlw, not proofread, also, written at 2am, established friends with benefits, self-indulgent smut, dom!Abby, shower sex, strap on (r!receiving), strap referred to as a dick/cock Word Count:2.08k || MDNI Banner Creds. || Donations 4 Palestine
Notes ☆ The next fic I have based on a song will not be as fun! Just a heads up. Also, two works back to back within a few hours? We're so back
FWB!Abby who isn't known to be very open about her sexuality. Sure, there are rumors, and there are people she's told that she's lesbian, but that list is pretty limited to close friends. It's not that she's trying to hide it, anyone with working eyes who takes more than a second or two to look at her can tell, she just doesn't feel like it's anyone's business but her own.
And yours of course.
Abby's never been particularly sappy or romantic. Still, despite how intense her day-to-day is - fighting Scars, killing infected, being on high alert at every turn because there's no way of knowing what will be the next thing to try and kill her first - she's a bit of a thrill seeker in her own way. The idea of doing something seemingly forbidden, the rush of nearly getting caught doing something less than savory, has never failed to be a turn-on for her and it's something that, over time, you've become acutely aware of. She's gotten into the habit of dragging you into bathrooms, and storage closets, sometimes even taking it upon herself to get handsy underneath tables when in the presence of others just to see that nervous look you get.
It should be no shock to you that she'd do something like this and yet, you're still baffled.
The showers were peaceful today, it was late and most people were either asleep or just waking up for their own shifts. After a long patrol, all you wanted to do was turn on the hot water and let it soak over your aching muscles, washing the blood, dirt, and sweat that had accumulated on your skin down the drain. You weren't expecting to feel a large pair of hands gripping at your waist in the shower, and if you hadn't known better, you might have started swinging.
"Abby, what the hell?" You flinch a little under her grasp, and while you try to sound angry, the amused chuckle that forms with your words is hard to stifle.
"Nice to see you too" Abby mutters, already beginning an assault on your neck with her lips, trailing wet kisses down your skin as she speaks.
"I thought you said you were tired" You try and turn to face her but you're only met with a tightened grip on your body, forcing you to face the glass shower wall.
"I lied."
Before you can think up something snarky to say, Abby presses her front up against you further and you stiffen completely, the sensation of something that definitely isn't normally there now flush against your ass.
"What is that?" You question, turning your head in attempt to get a look at whatever it is she's got rubbing against you, but again she forces your eyes forward, grabbing your chin to make you face the wall again.
"I want you to guess." She purrs, nipping at your earlobe, unable to stop herself from letting out a low chuckle. "C'mon, baby, I know you remember. That shop we passed by the other day? You were all curious about it, but we never got the chance to really look around."
In order to somewhat jog your memory, one of her hands releases its grip on you, wrapping around what she has and pressing it between your soaked thighs, shallowly thrusting it between them. Your breath hitches at the feeling and the memory comes flooding back into your mind. It was a few days back - Manny had pointed out an old sex shop and being the man he is he just couldn't shut up about it. Mostly he'd bragged about how, as much as he'd like to experiment, his own hands and body got the job done just fine.
In the moment it was funny, and a little stupid. The three of you managed to catch a quick glimpse of the interior, seeing some of the different toys that hadn't been looted or destroyed and joking about all of the time people in the Old World must have had to be so experimental with their sex lives. Unbeknownst to you, one toy in particular had caught Abby's eye. She didn't point it out to you or Manny, but right before you all had to leave, the rest of your patrol group having already started packing up to head back to base, she'd hidden it so that she could go back for it later. And she did.
"Figured it out, pretty girl?"
Abby's voice snaps you out of your head and you nod, coaxing another low chuckle out of her.
"You wanna see it?"
The moment her hold on you loosens you turn around, eyes panning down her toned, naked frame to the black harness that was fixed around her hips and landing on the toy that had just been sliding up against your cunt. Your eyes widen at the sight of the thick, purple silicone toy dangling from her body, and as much as you'd like to deny the immediate heat that rises in your belly at the sight of it, you can't.
"I don't think that's gonna fit. And...and what if we get caught, Abs you can't just hide that thing"
You say it without much thought, your words forcing a genuine laugh out of your 'friend'. She shakes her head and playfully rolls her eyes.
"You worry too much, baby. I locked the door. If someone comes knocking, I can just get out and tuck it in my bag before we open the door" She reassures as she gently guides you by your waist to the fogged-up wall, pressing you against it. "And trust me, once I get you nice and warmed up, it'll fit"
Abby sinks to her knees in front of you without another word, settling herself between your legs and dragging her tongue along your slit. The doubt that was once present in the front of your mind quickly starts to fade as she laps at your dripping heat, your hands weaving into her wet hair and holding on to keep her in place. You feel the tip of two of her thick fingers dip into your pussy, coating the digits with your arousal before slipping them into you completely.
She never failed to have this effect on you, and if it weren't so sexy, it'd be frustrating. Your mind is so quick to go blank under her touch, hips unconsciously grinding against her tongue as she swirls it along your puffy clit. Abby's unusually slow about it at first, curling and scissoring her fingers in and out of you, making sure to prepare you as best she can, but by the time she slips in a third finger her impatience and excitement makes itself known. You're practically teetering at the edge of an orgasm when she pulls away from you entirely, a whine escaping you as you're denied a release.
"Abby..."
"Shh, baby I know" Abby murmurs, standing back up, smiling softly as she watches your brows fix together. "I want you to cum on my cock, not my fingers. You can do that for me, can't you?"
Something about the way she refers to it as her own, as if she'd grown it herself sends a shock of electricity through you, and you answer her with an eager nod.
"Atta girl, now be good for me and turn around" She instructs, pushing you flush against the glass when you obey her command.
Abby knows how badly you must be aching at this point, her own precum leaking down her thighs as her eyes rove over your back. Even so, she takes her time, fucking your thighs, calloused palms spreading your ass a bit to get a better view. She groans at the sight of your essence combining with the water, making the dildo glisten in the fluorescent lights.
"God, you're so fucking wet" She whispers. "So ready to get split on my fuckin' dick, aren't you?"
The desperate little whines and the way you wiggle your ass back onto her is all the confirmation she needs to slowly push in, though, to neither of your surprise with how soaked you are, it proves to be rather easy. The difference is almost funny to her. You looked so nervous when you'd seen it initially, and now you were sucking her in like you were used to it.
"There ya go, slipped in so fast baby, fuck"
The way Abby moans when the toy is all the way inside of you, the way she struggles to keep at a slow pace to make sure you're well adjusted to the girth - you'd think she could feel it. It's an adjustment for both of you, the task of keeping it from fully slipping out of you when she pulls back proving to be a tad more annoying than she thought it would be, but she figures it out. And, God, if it isn't fucking worth it when she does.
Each thrust is like a shock to your system, Abby's pace only increasing as she loses herself in the moment. She could probably - and likely will end up - cumming from this alone. It was already a bit of a fantasy in her mind, having often wondered what it would be like to fuck you like this, but she didn't think she actually could. Her vivid blues are transfixed on the way your ass jiggles with each hard thrust, the sound of skin slapping against skin only made more intense by the water flowing along your bare bodies.
"A-Abby I- oh my god, please!" Words barely come out of you, and when they do, they're choppy breathless rambles with no real substance. Normally you were so careful about volume, but there are always times when she'd fucked you so stupid that you stopped caring. This, for example, being one of those times.
"So fuckin' pretty...you look so fuckin' pretty trying to take it for me" Her grip on your hips is bound to leave bruising, but all you can think about is how grateful you are for that fact. If not for her hands, you'd be on the ground by now, legs shaking and unable to hold your weight any longer.
Abby knows your tells well enough to see when you're about to explode - the incoherent sobs, twitching legs, your hands desperately trying to grab onto everything - anything that could possibly help ground you even a little bit. It only eggs her on, her arm snaking around your body to rub feverishly at your aching clit, almost impatient in her need to watch you come apart for her.
"Fuck, don't stop Abby, please, 'm so close...so fuckin' close" You manage to blurt out, damn near crying at the intensity, eyes rolled into the back of your head, head lulled forward against the wall. It's taking everything in you not to fall apart this instant but you want to drag it out for just a little longer.
"Almost there, honey, I got you... C-c'mon, be a good girl and cum all over my fucking cock"
The white-hot intensity of your orgasm sends you reeling, a string of curses and choked cries spilling from your lips, arousal further wetting your inner thighs as it spurts out of you. Abby can't help but moan loudly at the sight, continuing to pump in and out of you to let the base of the toy bump against her clit more, her own climax following soon after yours.
Somehow, Abby manages to stay upright despite her legs feeling like putty, knowing full well that if she falls you'll go down with her. Her strong arms wrap around you tightly as she pulls out of you, her sweaty forehead resting against your back as you both work to catch your breath.
"Fuck..that was..." She trails off, the actual strain of her actions hitting her body, making it difficult for her to get a word out between breaths. You giggle at the sound of her struggle, though you aren't doing any better.
"So fucking good.." Is all you breathe out, your mind still too fuzzy to think of something better to say.
Abby just nods, lacking the energy to say something snarky in response, the only sound remaining being the now cold water from the showerhead pitter-pattering against the ground, though eventually, she does force herself to speak up once more.
"Once I....catch my fuckin' breath...we're so doing that again"
Reblogs are appreciated ☆ tags: @half-of-a-gay, @porcelainmystery,
#lesbian#wlw#tlou2#abby anderson#☆kennie's works#abby the last of us#abby anderson tlou2#abby anderson x reader#abby anderson smut#abby x reader#abby x you#abby x fem!reader
3K notes
·
View notes
Text
SLUT ME OUT𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ☾.
SYNOPSIS: Does fucking your bratty girlfriend into oblivion help her fall asleep even when her sleep shedule is shit? Draken says yes! C/W: fem! afab! Reader, established relationship, aged up characters (20+ years old), brat! reader and brat tamer! Draken, pussy spanking, orgasm denial, p in v, unprotected sex (keep it wrapped), tummy bulging, cervix fucking, reader doesn't have a great sleep schedule/implied insomnia, mentions of social media (tiktok, Instagram, etc.), no prep, Draken has a big dick, rip your pussy, MDNI!!!! W/C: about 3k A/N: this is super self indulgent and has been on my mind for the longest time :,)) I won't lie, this particular fic took me a while to write for some reasons, but I guess not every fic can just flow out of my brain directly into my google docs. Also, not proofread and kinda chaotic (?)
DRAKEN had enough. He’d toss and turn, unable to get a wink of sleep. Next to him laid, or rather sat, you, staring at the bright display of your phone watching the newest videos of your favorite creators. You’d scroll, switching between Instagram Reels to Tiktoks to Youtube shorts, trying to get your nightly dose of entertainment before you’d cuddle up to your boyfriend and fall asleep. Insomnia was a bitch and Draken knew that you did your best not to disturb his sleep, but it became glaringly clear that your sleeping habits impacted his. So really, it didn’t do much for him when you lowered the volume as much as you could, or the way you’d try and stifle your laughter at a particularly funny Reel. He was wide away at an ungodly hour with you, but unlike you, he had to go to work in six hours.
“Babe, you should go to sleep now” Draken grumbled as he turned around to face you “Phone-time is over” Draken reached and grabbed your phone from your grip before turning it off and placing it on his night stand. Once Draken turned back to look at you, the street lanterns barely illuminated the dark bedroom from outside. The blonde’s eyes quickly adapted to the dark, and all he saw was your pouty face glaring daggers at him.
“You can’t just take away my phone like that” you scoffed at your boyfriend “You’re acting like my dad. I’m a grown woman, and I’m more than capable of making my own decisions” Huffing, you tried to reach over the broad man to get your phone back, eager to return to the story time you’ve just watched. But you’ll soon come to find out that your boyfriend is not the right man to disobey.
Draken caught your hand before you could even touch your phone “Oh yeah, a grown woman? You?” He looked at you with his sharp onyx eyes. You saw an all too familiar dangerous spark in his eyes, a spark that challenged you to defy him. Fuck around and find out.
“Yes, me. Believe it or not, but I’m my own person” you exclaimed, trying to sound as firm as you can. This was dangerous territory, but you’ve walked that path numerous times and oh boy, did you want to fuck around and find out. Not that you didn’t know what would follow - you were certain about what would follow should you keep being difficult.
You pressed your thighs together, clit throbbing at the vicious glare your boyfriend threw at you “Who are you to even think you can boss me around?” That sealed the deal, you concluded from the way Draken leaned in closer to you. His gigantic form blocked out the window, the only source of light. You weren’t able to see much, but you didn’t have to. Draken was so close to you that you heard his even breathing, smelled the faint smell of the shampoo he used when he went to shower prior to joining you in bed hours ago, but most importantly, you felt him. You felt his rough hands on your thigh underneath the blanket, warm fingers pressing into your soft flesh. But most importantly, you felt his breath fanning against your lips.
“Yeah, you are your own person” His deep voice rumbles through the darkness of your shared bedroom, sending a shiver of excitement over your body “But I think you’re giving yourself way too much credit. You may look like a somewhat reliable, mature person, but you’re a brat through and through”
His grip on your thigh grew tighter. A mewl almost escaped your lips, but you didn’t dare make a noise. You didn’t want him to know that you got off to this, at least not now.
“And you know damn well I don’t like being disrespected. I’m not your father, but I am your boyfriend and I won’t tolerate this level of disrespect” Draken’s voice rumbled lowly, his grip on your thigh as firm as before “I’m gonna give you one chance to look me in the eye and apologize, brat” He spat out. The way your boyfriend put so much emphasis on “brat” made you feel tingles inside your stomach.
You leaned closer to him, looked him in the face - even when you couldn’t see well in the dark, you still knew where to look - and told him with the sweetest voice “No. I’m not gonna apologize for anything. I said what I said” You were about to ask for your phone back, hoping that would make him snap but you didn’t get the chance to. A yelp left your mouth at the stinging sensation you felt on your thigh. You were no longer able to contain your excitement; a lewd moan left your lips as his palm made impact with your thigh. Draken was on top of you, yanking your legs apart harshly, before your mind could even register it.
“Should have known you were being difficult on purpose” Your boyfriend grumbled into your ear, his fingers tracing lines over your clothed cunt “Could have just told me you want me to fuck you to sleep. Would have saved me my nerves”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about. I’m not being difficult”
“Liar” His fingers slipped past your panties. A sinful moan left your lips as Draken teased your clit, rubbing agonizingly light strokes over your throbbing bud. His fingers barely touched you where you needed him the most. A part of you wanted to drop the bratty act and ask - no, beg - him to fuck you, but you already knew that it was far too late to act like a good girl for him. So you committed to the bratty act.
“I’m not a liar-”
Gasps and moans left your lips as Draken slapped your clothed pussy, making you unable to finish your protests. The stinging pain aroused you even more. You wanted more of him.
"What was that? Didn’t catch that” Draken grinned wolfishly at your attempts to seem unfazed, but your squirming beneath his calloused hand and the embarrassingly big, wet spot on your panties told him everything he needed to know.
“I said I’m not a liar-” His hand landed on your pussy again. The hard slap sent a jolt through your body, slick seeped out of your pussy and soiled your favorite pair of panties.
“Hmmm, apologize for lying to me, and I’ll take off your panties for you” Draken’s deep, rich voice rumbled “If I like your apology, that is. Better start begging if you want them off”
“N-No, I won’t apologize” the words stumbled out of your lips, unable to come up with a snarky comment. Your refusal to beg would have to do for now.
Another hard slap landed on your pussy once Draken heard your whiney stutter. You mewled at the impact, loving the pleasure you feel from the pain. Your clit throbbed against the fabric of your heavily soiled like a second heartbeat, waiting to be touched again; but as if reading your mind, Draken his assault on your poor pussy. Instead, he roughly yanked your panties off your body, so much so you feared he ripped the fabric. You yelped as he manhandled you, pressed you into the mattress and took your wrists, pinning them above your head with one hand.
You could feel his bulge pressed against your thigh as he yanked your legs apart, making sure to position himself between your trembling legs. Anticipation washes over you; you felt so excited to feel his fingers stretch you out nicely, preparing you to take his thick cock. You’re already imagining his long fingers pumping in and out, middle and ring finger setting an unforgiving pace as his thumb would be teasing your clit until you’d cream around his digits.
Instead of thrusting in and out of your weeping hole, his fingers hooked under the waistband of his boxers before pulling them down. Draken’s rock hard dick slapped against his toned abs. Your eyes have adjusted to the little light coming from outside, the cheap lantern lights illuminating the best parts of your boyfriend as you moved your head, desperate to catch a glimpse.
Veiny, girthy, with a big, angry red tip, leaking precum. Your mouth watered at the sight. Oh, what you’d do to have him down your throat…
You snapped out of your thoughts when you saw Draken give his cock a few, firm pumps before his hand moved back to the base, guiding his leaking tip between your folds. The thought of your boyfriend fucking you without preping you beforehand felt both daunting and arousing to you. Remembering the previous times he took you, you vividly remembered the way his dick would stretch you out uncomfortably despite him eating you out and fingering you beforehand. You could only imagine the damage he’d do if he didn’t prep you. So, your bratty act faltered as you opened your mouth, and hoarsely asked “Baby, what are you doing?”
Lust filled, onyx eyes met yours as Draken heard your small protests, a scowl adorned his handsome face “Teaching you a lesson” He groaned as he teased your folds with his tip “Since you wanted to be a brat about it, I’m gonna put you back in your place like one” Without warning, Draken pushed his bulbous tip inside.
Tears shot up in your eyes as you bit back a scream, feeling as if you were being impaled by him. You struggled beneath him, struggled to take him fully while he mercilessly forced himself inside you, and struggled to contain your moans bubbling out of your sealed lips. Despite the stretching, burning pain you felt the deeper Draken pushed himself between your walls, you couldn’t deny that you liked it. Your clit throbbed as you got stuffed full of cock, begging to be touched, pinched, slapped.
Sweat collected on Draken’s forehead. He felt somewhat conflicted about not loosening you up properly, feeling that he might be doing too much this time, but the grip your gummy walls had on him made it impossible for him to pull out. He didn’t know if it was either the lack of prep or you loving it that made you so damn tight - almost too tight- for him. Draken was sure of one thing though: he physically couldn’t pull out. He lacked the will power for it.
Lost in his own pleasure, your boyfriend glanced at your face. The nagging voice in his head demanded to know if you were doing okay. Below him, you were a shaking mess. A thin sheen of sweat covered your skin, lips plump and bruised from you biting them, eyes rolled back in sheer bliss and tummy bulging. If heaven was real, it would face in comparison to your blissed out expression, a sweet combination of pained and aroused.
“Oh, why so silent, brat?” Draken huffed “Where did your smart mouth go?” He groaned as he harshly thrusted the last remaining inches inside your weeping cunt, attentively watching your face. You weren’t able to hold the nasty, loud moan anymore. You tried to hold onto the pillows for leverage, but Draken’s tight grip on your wrists didn’t falter. Panting, you made eye contact with Draken. His scowl has warped into a cruel grin; he looked down on you like a wolf would look at a wounded sheep, ready to devour it.
“You’re so filthy” Draken mused, chuckling darkly when you turned your face away in shame. His free hand took hold of the bed frame, an action that caught your attention. You squeezed your eyes shut, anticipating a hard thrust out before he’d plunge right back inside you. But he didn’t. Instead, the grip on your wrists grew tighter, making you squeal in pain and look at him, glaring daggers at your boyfriend.
“Speak when you’re spoken to, brat” Draken growled “This is your last chance. Beg me for forgiveness, and I might be nice”
And despite his threats, he still saw a flicker of defiance in your eyes. He knew that you’d always be bratty to him, and you knew he knew.
“F-Fuck you” you meekly replied back, your voice faltering and shaky. You knew you were screwed when you saw the dark glint in Draken’s onyx eyes.
Wordlessly, Draken pulled out and rammed back inside. The first thrust knocked the air out of your lungs, the ones that followed after knocked your soul out of your body. Draken didn’t hold himself back, the might of his thrusts shook the bed you two shared. The old mattress that you two have been meaning to replace for ages let out loud, squeaky noises with every movement. The thudding, the squeaking, your loud sobs and Draken’s low groans were a guarantee for getting noise complaints in the morning, but neither of you cared; your brain fuzzy from the painful yet delicious stretch and Draken too focused on the grip your pussy had on his dick.
Draken’s balls smacked against your ass with each merciless thrust, heavy and full with his cum. His tip continuously kissed your cervix, which ended up heightening the pain and pleasure you felt. Feeling overstimulated, you knew you wouldn’t last any longer and come soon. While drunk on your pussy, Draken was still able to think somewhat clearly. He felt the way your walls grew tighter around him and heard the frantic moans that escaped your lips.
So he stopped right before you could come.
You whined desperately once Draken stopped moving, trying to grind your hips against him, to create a friction that could satisfy the overbearing heat you felt in your tummy. Much to your dismay, you weren’t able to move a lot with your boyfriend pressing down on you.
“Stop moving or I will pull out” Draken warned you sternly. He didn’t like having to postpone his own orgasm for the sake of teaching you a lesson, so he hopes he has cracked you down enough to drop your stubborn, bratty attitude.
A wince left your lips as you heard Draken, your hips stopping their movements. You looked up at him, teary eyed and frowning at his sudden stop.
“You didn’t actually think I’d let you cum after all the badmouthing you did” He scoffed, trying to suppress a grin. Oh, how he loved seeing you so needy. He absolutely loved seeing the real you, the desperate you.
You’d be embarrassed by the way your resolve broke so quickly, but you couldn’t think straight anymore. All thoughts in your head revolved around cumming on his cock.
“Please” you whimpered out “Please, I wanna cum”
“Nu-huh. You’ll have to do better” Draken rolled his eyes at you “And you better be quick. I don’t have the whole night”
And just like that, the dam broke. Beginnings and pleadings and empty promises bubbled out of your mouth, each word sounding more desperate than the previous. Music to his ears.
“I will never disrespect you like that again” You promised, sobbing as you ran out of anything to make him reconsider “I will always listen to you, I will always be obedient”
Of course, Draken knew that you were throwing everything and saw what stuck; he knew you would go back to your antics as soon as you wake up in the morning. To say he was unimpressed was an understatement.
“I’ll be good. I-I will fix my sleep schedule” you stuttered out, growing antsy at the lack of a reaction. You’ve run out of what to say to him to appease him “You wanted me to fix it, right?”
Draken could only scoff at you. What a pathetic thing to say “We both know that’s a lie. You know I hate lies” Draken could see the disappointment in your eyes “And to top it all off, all of those things you’ve said are lies as well”
“But that’s fine. I’m gonna make an honest person out of you” With that, Draken slammed his hips against yours, picking up right where he left off. Screams and cries left your lips as your boyfriend drilled inside you.
“If fucking your brains out every night is what will make you be good, I will do it” Draken grunted between thrusts. Draken’s pace was unforgiving, his thrusts angled to hit all the right spots. The sudden switch up on his demeanor left you confused, but who were you to question your boyfriend while he’s balls deep inside you?
Draken’s hips repeatedly crash against yours, chasing after his orgasm. He was usually so patient and kind with you, making sure you’d cum before him. This time, Draken prioritized his own high. So he fucked you like a dog in heat until he emptied his balls inside you with a groan. He shut his eyes tightly as he fucked his cum into you, trying to extend his orgasm as much as he could.
His cum shot inside your womb, filling you up nicely; so much so that the tight knot in your tummy broke. You mewled out his name as you came hard, your legs trembling and your back arched at the aftershocks from your intense orgasm. Your eyes felt heavy, and before you knew it, you passed out from sheer exhaustion. Sleeping soundly, you didn’t notice Draken pulling his dick out. He could only imagine the divine view of his cum leaking out of your pulsing pussy if it was brighter inside the bedroom.
Despite feeling tired himself, Draken pushed himself off your shared bed and went to the bedroom quietly, making sure you wouldn't wake up. After all, he gave it his all to put you to sleep. He returned -womewhat clean himself- with a wet towel and carefully cleaned you up. Your boyfriend silently watched you sleep, letting the previous events replay in his mind before he laid down and covered the both of you with a blanket. As Draken fell asleep, he couldn’t help but feel a sense of triumph swell up in his chest. He finally knew what would get you to fall asleep, and he was very much intending at fucking you to sleep every night.
#mdni divider by cafekitsune#draken x reader#draken smut#draken x reader smut#tr smut#tokyo revengers x reader#tokyo revengers x reader smut#tr draken#ken ryuuguji x reader#ken ryuguji#tr x you#x fem!reader#tokyo revengers smut#tokrev#tokyo revengers
1K notes
·
View notes
Text
ain't you my baby?
word count: 4k ish pairing: din djarin x reader a/n: [old timey radio voice] interrupting your regular schedule of bat boy to bring you [does jazz hands] yet another man that could kill u! i will apologise for not updating wtssf and instead giving this but i do not control the brain worms <3 hopefully this is still tasty for sum of y'all ! title from NFWMB by hozier
synopsis: Din gives you an unexpected gift. A dagger crafted with beskar, a fine weapon, a courting gift. You misunderstand. It doesn't take long for you to catch back on. inspired by a convo with my beloved @djarinova
By now, the constant hum and rattle of the Razor Crest around you was nearly unnoticeable.
You travel enough light-years with one stubborn screw in your cot, almost always returning to the spacecraft with one injury or another, and eventually the low lull becomes something more familiar.
Almost, if you'd let yourself admit it, a comfort.
Sleep is funny on the Crest. You'd been a light sleeper for most your life and it had saved your skin more time than you cared to count. Yet, it was the simple knowledge that a Mandalorian roamed in the cockpit above that allowed sleep to drag you deeper than usual.
It had taken months to let your guard down, to realise there wasn't going to be blade buried in your gut as you slumbered defencelessly. In the safety of his company, for the first time in decades, you dream when you sleep.
He hates having to wake you, only doing so if it's absolutely necessary. It's always with the lightest of touches, the leather of his gloves pressing softly against your shoulder, your name murmured and diluted through the modulator of his helmet.
Despite his gentleness, it never stops you from jarring awake.
You shudder awake with a violent twitch, pressing up on your elbow in a split second, prepared to move. You're stopped from moving further by Din's hand on your shoulder. He's knelt beside your cot, visor fixed on you.
You're on a new planet. The foreign atmosphere gives that away in an instant, the chalky taste in your mouth and the swarming heat on your skin. Your jack-rabbiting heart calms a bit.
"Din?"
You know he's only waking you because he must. The momentary calm banishes again as you push yourself up again. Din lets you this time, his gloved hand retreating to his side.
"It's not an emergency." He says, knowing your train of thought already. He tilts his head slightly, gesturing towards the ramp door. "I need to leave the ship. I didn't want you to wake and..."
Your trailing gaze darts back to his visor quickly, swallowing as you fill in the end of his sentence. Din doesn't finish it, but his shoulders readjust in a minuscule motion.
"I'm getting supplies. Watch the kid. Please."
You're nodding before he's finished his sentence. The sleep in your system is already dissipated and you push up, shifting onto your feet and trapping your pained hiss behind gritted teeth as Din rises to his full height.
There's a beep from his valance as he punches a button then a soft hiss as the pressure changes, the ramp door beginning to lower.
It's habit to watch the sliver of the outside grow, the new terrain stretching out before you as the mouth of the ship opens. As expected, a seemingly endless spread of sand greets you. You wrinkle your nose.
Din hadn't indulged the reason or destination of this particular trip. You hadn't asked. A deep slice in your thigh courtesy of a vibroblade and a mouthy Twi'lek had kept you off your feet and eager to rest.
The slice had been by pure luck—or so you thought.
But Din's silence following the patch up in the ship, his quietness suddenly uncanny, left you beginning to wonder if he was questioning your ability to fight. Weighing up your ability to defend.
And if those things were up for debate, certainly so was your position on his ship.
It had just been passed 3 years, almost six cycles if you counted how time passed on your home planet, since you had joined his crusade. Your job had one very simple, very crucial objective.
An objective that was now babbling at your feet, tiny claws reaching out for you.
"Hey, you," You say, reaching down to scoop Grogu up into your arms. He reaches his arms up as he does, making a happy gurgle as you tuck him against your hip.
His round, dark eyes peer up at you, his big ears twitching mischievously and you couldn't help but smile. You turn so he could see the stretch of desert and are surprised to find Din still in the mouth of the ship. He's turned back, his dark visor giving away nothing of his expression.
It's then you get the feeling once more; you're being evaluated. Your usefulness being weighed up. You shift beneath the weight of his gaze, unmoving but still not speaking.
"Did you forget something?" You ask, just to break the silence.
Din finally shifts, his helmet giving a small shake in answer. He doesn't speak, just stares another moment, before he's turning, his cape catching the wind as he strolls down the ramp.
You watch him go, heart in your throat, pondering with an ache of melancholy if your time on the Crest was coming to a close.
Another burbling noise from the little green monster in your arm tugs your attention away. You look down, smile already pulling at your mouth at his clawed hand reaching for you.
"At least I know you still like me," You murmur, letting his cling to one of your fingers. "You wouldn't fire me, would you?"
Grogu makes a noise of agreement, gripping your finger tight. Then he opens his little mouth and tries to direct your finger into it, the clearest declaration of his hunger he can give.
You huff a quiet laugh, turning back to the ship, mentally tallying up your list of things to do.
—
By the time of Din's return, the sun has dipped low in the sky and the dunes glow a scorching orange in its rays.
You see him coming in the horizon, the only figure out on the desolate landscape. You wonder, for not the first time, if he's burning up beneath all his armour. He never seems to use the fresher to cool off like you do.
It's as he reaches the ship, his footsteps heavier than usual and betraying his tiredness, do you realise he's returned with a bag. Your eyes glue to in instinctively but you bite your tongue and swallow the burning question of what the contents of the bag is.
"Get what you need?" You ask instead, hands laying flat on your knees, avoiding the bandage on your thigh.
You're knelt besides the ship wall, sitting on your feet, one of the panels hanging haphazardly by a single screw and a box of tools beside you.
There's a function for cooler air on the Crest but it's been busted since a gnarly shoot up leaving the atmosphere of Coruscant months ago. You've been trying to fix it for weeks, each time with no avail.
Today is no different.
“You haven’t fixed it.” Din says candidly, instead of answering your question.
That suddenly familiar worry of your usefulness shirks up within you.
“Yet.” you counter, aiming for optimistic. It’s impossible to tell what the immovable expression of Din’s helmet means. “It’s not the same problem as I started with, at least.”
After a moment, he gives a short nod as if he understands — which is mean because there isn’t a single thing you can think of that Din Djarin is bad at. Besides talking to Jawas, of course.
He passes you and you force yourself to keep facing forward, even as you long to trail his broad figure. You squint at the tangle of wires within the panel and sigh. It’s feeling pretty fruitless. You were hardly a mechanic to begin with and—
A loud clatter beside you makes you startle, something heavy dropping into your toolbox.
You jump back and after a quick second, realise that it’s Din who had dropped something purposefully. Trying to calm your racing pulse, you lean forward and peer in.
“This might help.” He says.
You blink down at the new tool he’s given you. It’s the one spanner size that’s missing from your toolbox.
The last one had been lost when you lobbed it at an intruder’s head in a blind panic. Not your proudest moment— even if it did distract the guy enough for Din to put him down.
You swallow your heart in your throat. “Thank you.”
You don’t hear him retreat but the part of you that fizzles like a freshly born star when he’s near dims, a giveaway to his movements. You curl your fingers the new tool and try to tell if this a good sign or not.
Behind you, Din clears his throat.
You peer over your shoulder, your brows knitting together — it’s not often he calls your attention so forwardly, much preferring to stand and wait, staring long enough til you notice and flush.
He’s still standing in the hull, one hand curled around and holding the bag he returned with. You twist fully, letting him know he’s got your attention.
For a long moment, he doesn’t move. You stare, waiting patiently and try not to let your eyes roam—especially after the last comment he made when he absolutely caught you staring at the broadness of his shoulders, eyes drinking in the cut of his figure.
You’d be a terrible criminal, cyra’rika.
What’s that supposed to mean? You had retorted, flustering just a bit.
He had turned and fixed you with a tilt of his helmet that meant he was likely smirking underneath it.
You have shifty eyes.
Your face had glowed fiercely at the reminder that just because you couldn’t see his eyes, that didn’t mean he couldn’t see yours.
Across from you in the Crest now, Din coughs awkwardly.
“I,” He starts. One of his hands clenches, the leather crinkling as he does. “I have something. For you.”
Surprise piques up inside you, fiery and delighted. It warms your stomach and there’s no fighting the smile that pulls at your mouth even if you wanted to.
Gifts from a bounty hunter are few and far between and he’d already replaced the spanner. Your bounty hunter in particular doesn't like to spend his credits unwisely.
Even less commonly does he acknowledge that something is a gift—but you've learned to love the quiet hum he gives you when you thank him for something.
"Oh?"
He shifts his weight ever so slightly, the most obvious indication that he's nervous.
You sit up a little straighter. The anxiety from earlier pools in quickly.
He gives a tiny, almost inaudible huff and then, instead of reaching into the bag, he pushes back his cape and reaches back. His skilled hand unclips something sheathed at his waist. He drops the bag and steps forward, his hand outstretched.
You hold your breath without realising.
It's... a dagger, you realise.
A very beautiful blade by all standards. As you press up to your knees, rising to get a closer look, the details of its intricacy begin to call out to you.
The hilt is twined in a delicate, leathery fabric, not yet moulded to any hand. The pommel holds a promise of a shimmer as though it's embedded with a mineral. And the blade itself... A darker metal curls through the lighter one that encases it, like smoke on a sunlit sky.
It's expert craftsmanship, with a precise balance of two metals — and if you stare a moment too long, you swear the darker one matches the hue of Din's armour. His beskar armour.
"Will you accept it?"
It's with the gravel of Din's voice do you realise you haven't moved. You haven't reached out for it, haven't even blinked since he offered it out to you. You exhale, suddenly feeling a little lightheaded.
It's elegant beyond words. It's too much.
Too much for you, too much as a... a... What was it?
A gift? A reminder of your sole duty on the Crest? Of what you nearly failed at during your last mission together? The wound on your thigh seems to throb painfully as if in response.
He's never got you a gift that's anything less than helpful.
"I," You breath, finally tearing your eyes off the dagger and looking up at the visor fixed on you. "Din, I—"
Your gaze drops back to the blade in his hands. This time, you're certain it's beskar twined within the steel.
"It's very beautiful but..." I'm not worthy of beskar. "I couldn't, it's— it's too much. I can't accept it, Din."
The words come out clumsily and you wonder if in your attempt at being polite, you've gone too far in the other direction and offended him. You wring your hand against your thigh, pressing your knuckles into your wound. The pain dances along your nerves, a welcome distraction as you force yourself to meet his gaze.
The hum of the ship fills the space between you and like almost always, you have no idea how to read his silence.
"I understand."
And then he's stepping back, resheathing the blade into its holster in one fluid motion. He does it so quickly you don't see the tremble in his wrist, his hand just a touch unsteady. Above you both, there's a beep in the cockpit.
This time, you do manage to clock his body language, well aware of the way his guard has suddenly been wrenched up and the anxiety in your veins quickens with a sinister twist. Oh stars. You've definitely made it worse. You should've just accepted the dagger.
He turns and wordlessly heads towards the ladder to the cockpit and you watch him desperately, a dozen words caught in your mouth and none of them the right ones to say aloud.
"I—"
Din pauses, one gloved hand on the rung of the ladder, facing forward. He gives you a moment to speak. Your mouth dries.
When it's clear you aren't going to, you catch the slight sigh he gives, his shoulders dropping an inch.
"Grogu will miss you."
What?
You don't even get a moment to consider what he’s said or to digest the implications before he’s climbing the ladder, deft and quick. By the time you’re on your feet, the swish of his cape is disappearing into the hatch on the ceiling.
You stare at it a moment, all your unsaid words suddenly transforming into confusion. Your mouth opens then closes, your hands held out in front of you in evident bewilderment.
“What—” You begin as you take the rungs twice as fast, following Din’s path up to the cockpit. “—is that supposed to mean?”
You’re halfway up when The Crest suddenly lurches to the side with a rumble, the powering of engines thrumming beneath your feet and you stumble to catch your balance. Below you, you hear the familiar hiss of the ramp closing.
Stars, what is he doing? He hasn’t been this eager to leave a planet since a bounty back on Hoth.
“Where are we going?” You ask, forgoing your unanswered question. You shift forward as the Crest continues to rise with a powerful whirling sound.
Casting an eye at the passenger seat, you’re relieved to find it already occupied by your favourite green friend. Grogu coos in your direction at the sight of you and despite the situation, you can’t help but smile.
“I can take you wherever you wish to go.” Din’s flat response has your smile fading, your head whipping around to face him.
But he doesn’t take his focus off the control in front of him for a moment, stoic and silent as he continues to initiate takeoff. The Crest rises higher, the sandy ground of the planet out the window growing smaller and smaller.
Wherever you wish to go?
Does he— does he think you want to leave?
Your head spins in a tizzy as you try to clue together how the hell he had come to that conclusion. The Crest rocks as it breaks through the atmosphere and you stumble again, struggling to keep your balance.
For whatever reason he’s thinking it, he’s wrong.
Action finally possesses you. You surge forward and slam your hand onto the console, killing the power to the thrusters.
The ship stalls with a loud droning noise, coming to a shuddering stop before it begins to float in the darkness of space. The only light is the glowing orange of the planet and stars beyond the glass.
“Why do you think I want to leave all of a sudden?” You demand hotly.
For a moment, you think Din will continue the silent treatment that he’s all but mastered. His helmet, visor gazing out through the windshield, doesn’t move — until he tilts his head toward you slightly. He sighs quietly.
“I don’t imagine after…” He waves a hand idly and you scan his figure intensely, searching for what he could possibly be referring to.
After…?
It suddenly seems quite obvious.
Even if you had no idea what it had meant to Din, clearly this has to do to you turning down his gift.
“Din,” you say very quietly.
His helmet turns another inch, his chin tilted up to show he’s listening.
You swallow and it feels like your heart in is your throat, burning and bursting all at once. But you have to ask.
“What did the dagger mean?”
Now he averts his gaze, his helmet dipping as he mumbles something, nothing, his voice almost too low for his modulator pick up, a gift, but in the gravel of his murmuring, you hear one unmissable word: courting.
Oh.
Oh.
It was a… courting gift.
A dagger blended with beskar, given as a courting gift from a Mandalorian. It meant you- and him — the hope you had been harvesting, the hope of something more blooming between you two, it had not been unrequited.
Your mind casts back to the exact phrasing as you turned what you believed to simply be a gift too prized for you— it’s too much, I can’t accept.
Maker. No wonder he thought you wanted to leave.
Whatever is crossing your face must be the opposite of subtle because as you grapple to find a response to that, Din’s head tilts back up.
“You didn’t know.”
There's a tiny wobble of relief in his voice.
“No,” You breathe. Blinking hard, suddenly you feel a bit wild because Din all but proposes to you but doesn’t even think to check if you knew the depth of what he was offering? Of the real question behind his gift?
You shake your head. “No, I didn’t know, Din.”
Silence lulls between you, charged and heavy. Even without seeing his face, you know Din must be squirming beneath his helmet — his intentions, his feelings, out in the open and you still staring at him speechless.
You manage to find your voice.
“May I see it once more?”
The request comes out softer than you intend, your courage suddenly quivering in your chest. You will it to rise, to embolden you. Din had been brave — now it's your turn.
Without a word, he shifts and reaches back to release it from its sheathe on his waist. For a split second you see it, the hesitation in his hand.
Then he's holding it out, balancing in his open and trusting palm, held out for you. The thickness in your throat grows.
You swallow tightly and grip your courage, searching within you for that warm, safe feeling that beats like a drum, Din, Din, Din. You seize it tightly.
Eyes fixed on the blade, you ask quietly, "Would you... offer it to me again?"
It's impossible to draw your eyes up, too nervous to see yourself reflected in the darkness of his visor.
"Yes."
Your heart becomes a supernova.
"Will you?" You whisper, finally daring to look up at him.
Your protector, your partner, the man who showed you the softness of his heart and asked for nothing in return. "Will you offer it to me again?"
The subtle motions of Din are something you've come to learn with the years you've spent at his side. Now, staring up at you, the inclination of his armour gives away his surprise.
Then he's rising to his feet only to step before you and sink down, brought to his knees before you. His hand remains steady, the offering held out, and this time the meaning of it cannot be misconstrued in any way.
"Cyare," He murmurs — and it's beloved, it's please, it's don't part from my side for as long as you'll have me.
Something within you trembles and your bottom lip quivers in emotion and then you're moving without thinking, sagging until you're on your knees too.
Equal heights, each of you in a position of devotion, facing toward each other.
Hand reaching out, you clasp your fingers around the hilt of the dagger and say thickly, "I accept."
There's a ragged exhale through the modulator of Din's helmet. He shifts, moving to strip the gloves from his hands and the sight of so much skin from him is enough to make you falter. But there's barely time to recover your stolen breath before his bare hand curls around yours, far larger, the dagger gripped in both of your hands.
His skin pressed against yours burns like starlight. You stutter out a breath, your smile coming so easily at the sight of your joined hands.
Din's other hand raises up and pauses momentarily, halting as if he's unsure if he's allowed before it settles gently on your cheek. You lean into the warmth of his skin and hear another sharp inhale through the modulator.
"I—" He begins, quickly cutting himself off. His thumb on your cheeks begins to wander, soothing over your skin lightly. He urges you forward and you bow your head, forehead pressing to the cool beskar of his armour.
"Thank you."
"You're thanking me?" You chuckle wetly, emotion clinging to your words. His thumb on your face traces another soft circle and you shudder beneath the loving touch, eyes fluttering closed.
“You could have been clearer." You chastise lightly, though your evident joy means your words don't have any real bite.
“I offered you beskar, cyra’ika,” He murmurs, voice warm and full of love. His thumbs draws another delicate circle. “How much clearer could I be?”
His point makes you laugh, eyes opening and seeing your own reflection in his visor. "I don't know," You say, averting your eyes down to your still intertwined hands. You squeeze your hand and feel him echo the motion. Your heart sings.
"Use your words?" You suggest with a cheeky smile, well aware that words were not a strong suit of your Mandalorian.
Din sighs, a faux long suffering one, and the mere familiarity of it makes your heart ache in the best way.
The worries of earlier bubble up within you, the reminder of why you had been so sure the dagger had some other meaning.
“I,” You begin, pulling back lightly and casting your gaze towards Grogu, who had been suspiciously silent as if knowing the significance of the moment before him. “I wasn’t thinking about the beskar, I was being stupid.”
With your free hand, you cover Din’s hand with yours, hiding your face away, which suddenly feels a little warmer. The nudge of your hand against his does nothing to alleviate the glow.
“I thought it was, like,” You mutter quietly, embarrassed. “You were saying I wasn’t doing my job well enough or— or something and I started worrying you were gonna…”
You can’t even finish the sentence with how foolish you feel.
“You thought I wanted you to leave?” Din asks, his voice dubious and warm. Like the mere thought of that is so far from believable that it’s amusing to him.
“Shut up,” you groan, eyes closing as if it can save your from your further flustering.
“Didn’t say anything.”
“You didn’t need to.” You murmur.
His hand in yours tightens, the other on your face coaxing you out of hiding with the gentlest of nudges.
"Never. As long as you want it, I want you with me." He says and in his voice you hear nothing but utter devotion. "Close your eyes."
You follow his command without hesitation, darkness cloaking your vision and you feel his hands retract from yours. The dagger remains in your palm, still cradled in your fingers. Then, there's the tell-tale hiss of his helmet and you inhale sharply.
"Cyare," He says and this time, it's with all the richness and roughness of his natural voice.
The timbre of his voice is like gunpowder sprinkled across your soul and when his hand finds the curve of your cheek once more, it's set alight.
"May I?" He asks. You can feel the soft heat of his breath fan across your lips and feel your heart quiver in response, bursting forward, as if trying to reach him. His thumb soothes across your cheek, full of wanting.
Your nod would be imperceptible if it was anyone other than Din — if his gaze wasn't trained on your face, drinking the details like a starved man, finally with uncloaked eyes.
He moves forward, presses his mouth against yours, and finds home.
#this is tender and longing and JESUS can u guys understand the state ive been in#i shalnt ramble in the tags lest this flops significantly and i bawl my eyes out#kidding.......#din djarin#din dijarin x reader#din x reader#the mandalorian#the mandalorian x reader#mandalorian x reader#star wars#perhaps this has no lead up and all tenderness but i uhhhhh wrote it while at work over like a week lmao#sloane writes#mando
496 notes
·
View notes
Text
I Dare You
Pairing: Bestfriend!Rafe x fem!reader
Summary: A game of truth or dare shouldn't be an issue right? Definitely not when it's with you hot best friend. It's all fun and games right?
Warnings: 18+, smut, unprotected sex (wrap it up), p in v, cockwarming, cream pie, slight chocking and slapping, teasing, let me know if I miss any
Wc: 3.2K
Part 2
“Let’s play a game or something?” Rafe suggests next to you. You’ve been hanging out for the past few hours. It’s kinda a tradition at this point. Every week the two of you will hang out at either Tanny Hill or your house. The two of you would spend the time watching movies and binge eating pizza or whatever food you decide.
Tonight was the same thing. You had ordered pizza and wings before Rafe got to your house. Giving him the perfect timed entrance with the food since he ran into the delivery boy. That was at least four hours ago and the food is long gone. The movies you watched are just rolled credits.
“I think I have Monopoly in the closet. We also have the switch that we can play on.” You rack your brain trying to think of what games that you have. “OOO! We can play just dance.” Rafe groans at the thought of the game. All throughout middle school you were obsessed.
Everyday you would go home from school, do your homework and play for hours. It was a great way of letting out energy while also giving you a workout. Your love for the game was then forced onto Rafe. You made him go home with you one day after school and play. Rafe has always been athletic, even as a child he loved sports. But that game took something out of him.
Every move was always red, never getting the motion correctly. Don’t get him started on the burn he would feel the day after. All the jumping around and the squating tore his muscles til they were strands. He hated that damn game but for some reason he would go back to your house the following day to do it over again. Now even thinking about the game hurts him.
“I would rather get back together with Christine then play that game.” He’s being over dramatic. The game isn’t even that bad. To say he would rather get back with the ex that stole from him, tried to sleep with his dad, and reported him to the cops is crazy. The stare you are giving him tells him you aren’t convinced. “Okay I wouldn’t but seriously I am not playing that death game.” Typical Rafe, drama queen. “Fine then what do you want to play? We can just put on another movie if you’re that bored.”
You took the bait without even thinking too much about it. “Why don’t we play truth or dare?” He suggests. His eyes are staring at the phone in his hands but he keeps an eye on you. Watching the perplexed look you give him. “Truth or dare? What are we twelve?” Teasing him will never get old. He just has a habit of saying the dumbest or weirdest things when he’s comfortable around people. Teasing him is a part of the friendship.
Rafe throws his phone on your bed as he moves around to look at you better. “Weren’t you watching that dumb kids tv show the other day? Gluey or something.” “Bluey.” You correct him. “That doesn’t matter. It’s good for your brain to help relax, you clearly need it.” Your foot nudges his thigh as you poke fun at him. He catches it and yanks you closer to him, your legs resting on his lap now.
You get a little more comfortable, fluffing the pillow behind you as you lay back. “It does matter. You watch something made for toddlers but you can’t play truth or dare. Come on indulge me.” He whines, his hand squeezing your calf. The feeling of his hands on you is not something new. You are one of the only people that he is comfortable enough to physically touch. The only thing is that sometimes the touch lingers, filling you with a fluttering feeling.
Clearing your throat to distract from your emotions, you answer. “Fine. Truth or dare?”
“Dare.” You giggle as you think of something. “I dare you to try on one of my dresses.” His face drops and your giggles become full laughs. “Fuck you. I’m not doing that shit, think of something else.” His nails graze along your skin, reaching your knee then going down. “Nope, gotta follow the rules.” You know he would never put on a dress in his life. You also know that he has a hard time saying no to you.
This is more of a test to see how far he would really go. “Too fucking bad. I’m not going to wear one of your dresses.” You pull your legs back to your body. Rafe tries to stop you from leaving but you had already turned away from him. “Baby come back.” There it is. That little moment he gives you butterflies. He’s been calling you that recently.
Baby
Like some freudian slip, a moment where he truly reveals how he feels. You ignore him as you open your closet grabbing a crop top instead. A dress was a long shot but you could pull this off. You walk back over to the bed, shirt in hand as you climb up. “What are you doing?” He’s watching as you crawl over to him. He can’t help but to have to adjust his pants. The action doesn’t go unnoticed.
“If you put the shirt on I’ll be happy. Then we can continue.” Rafe stares at the shirt then you. “Plus guys in crop tops are kinda hot.” You shrug your shoulders, looking down at the fabric and playing with it. Fanning innocence in your words to hide your true intentions. His eyes perk up hearing you say that. “You think guys look hot in that?”
His voice somehow got a little lower. You are itching to squeeze your thighs to sedate the ache you feel. But you won’t let him see that this is affecting you. It’s harder for him to hide and your eyes keep glancing down to get a peak. “Yeah. I like when you can see how tight the shirt is over their muscles.” Your eyes follow along his chest, imagine the shirt clinging to life on his chest. Your fingers are dying to touch him.
“Give me the damn shirt.” Rafe rips his shirt off, taking yours and puts it on. You mindlessly stare at him. You were right, the shirt is clinging to him. His muscles are stretching it out but his biceps are the main show. They are bulging out, the fabric barely holding together. He could choke you with his arms and you would be happy.
“Happy?” Your eyes flicker up to his. “Very.” Rafe shifts back to relax, his arm resting by your folded legs. His fingers extend out to brush against your exposed skin. “Truth or dare?” You think about it and take a long pause. “Truth.” His eyes squint at you, expressing his irritation that you took the easy way out. “Why did you and Evan break up?”
He knows why you two broke up, it was him. Evan made it known he never liked rafe and your friendship with him. It definitely didn’t help when Rafe and him got into a fight. Rafe may have implied that you would leave him in an instant if he asked you to. That really set him off and escalated from there. The next day you told Rafe that you and Evan had broken up. He was relieved to know he had once again chased off another guy.
“We had a huge fight after the party. He accused me of sleeping with you and wouldn’t stop yelling. In the end he told me I had to choose, you or him. I chose you.” His hand sandwich between your calf and thigh. Tightening as his mind processes what you said. “Why?” “That’s not the game. My turn.” He tries to protest and you won’t let him. You can’t admit that a part of you does want him. Evan was right to be concerned, not that you would cheat but that you have feelings for Rafe.
“Dare.” You wish you had fought harder to not play this game. You suck at coming out with things to say. “Are you always going to say dare?” “Yes.” You huf a bit. “I dare you to take a thirst trap photo and send it to the group chat.” He groans, already picturing the texts he’s about to get. Reluctantly he gets up positioning himself in front of your full length mirror. He takes the picture and sends it to the chat.
Automatically Top and Kelce start blowing up the group chat. He ignores them and walks back over. “Truth or dare.” You don’t even think. “Dare.” He crawls on the bed like you did earlier, forcing you to lay back. His body is hovering above you, hand playing with the hair that frames your face. “I dare you to show me what you got earlier at Victoria Secret.” He saw the package when he got through the door. His curiosity was eating at him. Smirking, you run your hand around his chest, teasing where the shirt ends only to push him off you.
You grab the box that was sitting on your dresser and open it up. Slowly you take off your sleep shorts and shirt. Your fingers wrap around the thin piece of fabric you call underwear. Pulling them down inch by inch teasing him further by throwing them at him. You don’t know where your confidence came from. Before today you would never strip naked in front of Rafe, you just can’t help yourself.
You take out a red lace teddy, the lace only covers part of your sides and your breasts. It was held together by thin straps, leaving your front fully exposed. Rafe’s hand starts to palm himself over his sweatpants, the pain in his dick becoming unbearable. “Fuck you look good.” You giggle and give him a twirl shaking your ass in the process. “Yeah? You like it, pretty boy.” Your hands are roaming your body, pausing to play with your breast.
Rafe can’t help but stare. “Come here.” You do without question, not wanting to let go of the game you ask him again. “Truth or dare.” Rafe reaches for your sides as soon as you get close. Playing with the lace between his fingers. “Can we both just stick to dare? It’s more fun that way.” Smiling you lean in, closing the gap slightly. “I dare you to take off your pants.” Like a good boy he does.
His boxer does nothing to hide the impressive dick he has. Your mouth water just thinking about it. Without really thinking your hand lands on his thigh, making its way up and retracting as soon as you get close to his dick. “Don’t be shy, baby. You can touch me.” Your eyes look at him through your eyelashes. He could probably cum just from watching you. Bingo
“I dare you to touch yourself.” A gasp leaves your lips at his dare. You know what he means, he wants you to pleasure yourself in front of him. But instead of listening you start to touch your thighs, then arms, and chest. “You know what I meant. Don’t you go start being a brat right now.” Giggling you move his thighs, slotting yourself in between them. Leaning back you expose yourself to him. The open crotch leaves you fully bare to him.
“Fuck.” He grunts as your fingers play with your clit, collecting the wetness by your entrance to help your movements. You almost get lost in the feeling, forgetting about the game, almost. “I dare you to take those boxers off and show me how you take care of yourself.” Rafe’s dick twitches when the cool air of your room hits him. His hand rapidly wrapping around himself and tugging.
The two of you kinda stay there in a lull. Both of you watch the other as they play with themselves, waiting the other out till they crack. Rafe had envisioned this differently, he thought he would be the one having you begging for him. Now he doesn’t even know if he can go another minute without touching you. Without feeling you stretch out on him. He knows this is only going to torture himself more but he can’t help it. “I dare you to come sit on my lap.”
You may have been confident before but this is going further then you thought. Before you can psych yourself out you do it. Throwing your legs over his, your folds parting as you sit down on him, his dick laying perfectly on your pussy. His hands find your hips as your arms wrap his neck. Holding each other and staring into each other’s eyes. “Like this?” Your voice convey’s innocence, so do your eyes. Melting him even further into your spell. “Just like that baby.”
His hands start to rock you back and forth, his dick sliding between your folds. The tip brushing against your clit. You let out a moan from the feeling, grinding harder to please him too. Your efforts were rewarded with a chocked moan leaving his perfect lips. Wanting to test how far he’s willing to go, your head leans forward. He's moving in trying to taste your lips, only stopping when he sees that you did. “I dare you to kiss me.” The words whispered on his lips.
Rafe brings a hand up to the back of your neck, dragging you in for a kiss. His lips devour yours as if you were his last meal. With the way that your soaking cunt is drenching him, it might actually be. He feels like he’s in heaven right now, he never wants this feeling to stop. But he knows it could be better. “I dare you to put it in.” Your hips stop, lips following along. There’s saliva connecting your lips as you detach yourself. You look apprehensive, not really sure if you want to ruin the friendship. “Do you really think that’s a good idea?”
Your fingers graze his scalp, missing when he had hair. The feeling of it weaving through your fingers can be felt lightly. “I miss your hair.” Rafe grins at you, pecking your lips. “I’ll grow it out again if you sit on my dick.” You clench around nothing, itching to feel him inside you. “Plus we’re best friends. We should be able to do everything together.” He brushes a piece of hair behind your ear, his hand resting on your check, thumb grazing your bottom lip. Blue eyes following the movement, flickering up to catch yours.
In your mind you know he’s trying to manipulate you with the best friend card. The truth is you don’t care, you would have pulled the same trick. Rafe isn’t the only one desperate to have him in me. “Okay. Promise this won’t change anything.” you lift your pinky up to him, he latches his to yours. “Promise, Just…just sit on it. That’s all you have to do.” He needs you now, he’ll say or do anything to get it. You lift yourself a little, getting a hold of him to line him up to your entrance.
Slowly you tease your hole with his tip. Slightly putting it in and then going up to then swirl his head around. Rafe is getting frustrated, groans of displeasure leaving his mouth. “Please.” He whines out, hands death gripping your hips. You lightly tap his cheek so he can open his eyes. With a smile you sink down, moaning at the feeling of his big dick stretching you. When you bottom out you lean your forehead on his. Hips flushed to one another.
Your eyes are locked in, watching as you both stew in the pleasure of feeling each other. Your walls are fluttering around him so nicely. He doesn’t know how much of this he could handle. Honestly he’s glad he suggested you cockwarm him. If he was fucking you right now he would have already finished. You are so tight and warm he wouldn’t have lasted a minute. Plus it gives you a chance to get used to him, he doesn’t plan on being gentle next him. His hands explore your back, nails raking down and slapping your ass. You let out a loud moan, your walls contract making him let one out as well.
The minutes pass by as you two explore each other. Sharing kisses on lips or exposed skin, hands touching every inch they can reach. You can feel him throbbing inside you, pulsating every few seconds. Pulling away, your hands lay flat on his chest to keep him still. “I dare you to touch me.” Tilting your head you mock him. “Let’s see if you can make me cum.” A hand flies to your clit rubbing calculated circles, the other gripping your neck. “Dangerous game you’re playing there, baby.”
Rafe’s back to attacking your lips, moving his assault to your jaw nipping at the skin. His fingers move faster on your clit, hurdling you closer to your orgasim. “Tighter.” You plead, your own hand laying over his to get what you want. He tightens his hold, chuckling at your open mouth expression. “Fucking dirty girl. Here I thought you were my little angel, turns out you're a little devil.” Words don't seem to be forming in your brain.
Everything is blank, the only thing in your head is forcing you to focus on how good his fingers feel. How every twitch of his dick brushes your g-spot only adding to your pleasure. He can feel how close you are, your walls are strangling him. Ironic since it's the same thing he’s doing to you. The fuzziness of your mind snaps the band in your stomach, all the stimulation too much for you to handle. “Rafe please.” Your moans mix with his, they echo in your room bouncing off the walls.
Rafe continues his motions to help you ride out your orgasim. His hands give up once you relax again. He’s on the verge of cumming, mustering up all his strength he holds back. You sense his hands on your hips ready to pull you up. You slap his hands away, cementing yourself to his lap. He gives you a panic look, knowing he won’t be able to hold off for long. “I dare you to cum in me. We should be able to do everything together right?” The moan he let out was pornographic at best. His body is shaking from how intense his orgasim is.
You moan as you watch him enjoying the view of his face and the feeling of him filling you up. He pulls you to his chest, keeping you close as he comes down. This is better than any drug he has ever taken. Slowly and carefully he moves you around, laying you on your back and pulling out. He stares at his dripping cum slides out of you. “God baby you’re amazing.” He kisses your stomach, chest, chin, then lips.
He holds you there, lips molding with yours. He gets up after a minute, getting a wet rag to clean you up. You lay in bed motionless when Rafe comes back after disposing of the dirty rag. “That was fucking amazing.” You say to your ceiling. Laughing, he lays down next to you. You look at him with a smile. “If you think that was good just wait till I actually fuck you.”
#rafe cameron#rafe x reader#rafe obx#obx#rafe cameron smut#rafe smut#drew starkey smut#outer banks smut#rafe x you#rafe imagine#outerbanks rafe#best friend rafe#rafe cameron x reader
1K notes
·
View notes
Text
deux
this tree from my new drawing looking goated afffffff 👑👑
#text#my tags are my city nobody can say ANYTHING ! to me#anyways.... iirc i wanted to get back on the self indulgence tidbit#i a 100% believe that me drawing nothing but n*lvas is literally the peak and the summit of me being self indulgent -#- i truly could not go higher with that . and i don't know how others feel about their/other's habits of ' drawing the same fictional -#- characters over and over again ' but it;s more than that Tropey shit to me#i swear the internet wants to make everything into fucking tropes and it's driving me fucking crazuyyyyyyyyyyyyyy#a bajitrillionard people on this earth with different minds personalities and skills some of who are artists online and you wanna -#- blend them into one whole soup bruh fack outta here rn.#don't even look at me Right now#you are in big trouble young man#so...... yes. also the part about improvement being a natural part of drawing the same shit all the time is Kinda true but also not#like sure.... but very lazy improvement ? Hazy ?#i don;t think you can do leaps without actually very much wanting to become 'better'#i mean i get wat people mean by that but it still makes me itch. count me out of that#Somebody reading this and thinking 'so now the person on tumblr that only draws old man on young twink action wants to talk alldat shit' -#- and maybe that person is me ..? My evil twin#everyone has an evil mind twin so it;s okay.#but yes. i love to create ☀❄💌🍧🎀 no matter what it is i'm creating and cooking up#i like my mind#all of my 'Fandom' related stuff is so vapid and removed from the source anyway mostly bc i don't like giving gay media too much credit#but also i would hate to be the guy to say 'omg i made them my OCs leeel' cos i didn't . i could never make smth like N*lvas off the top -#- of ma head. that's a brain on a different level than mine's . You know who;s work that is? our Lord's#who was kind enough to bless the brain of some employee at sk*rim hq#i say n*lvas here out of romantic context i'm just (as always) saying their dynamic is good.#Sigh. tthey're so silly#silly silly boys#silly funny jokes#ha ha's#tumblr had enough of me it just logged me out in the middle of writing these tags Omfg
42 notes
·
View notes
Text
kuroo texts you at 3:52 am, almost three months after you broke up.
admittedly, you probably should've silenced notifications from him by now, but when you roll over—eyes barely open, a little headache from the light—you know you're much, much too late.
a text, from your ex-boyfriend, the big, blue bubble stretched across your phone.
i just moaned your name during sex.
you blink at the screen.
you what?
moaned your name, he sends. totally ruined the moment.
you look up, and then down, and then up one more time to make sure what you’re looking it is real and not some strange, midnight hallucination before typing again.
you’re fucking with me, right?
dead serious, he replies. worst moment of my life.
you can hear his voice in the text, and if you weren’t so caught up in thinking about the poor girl who probably just had the worst sexual experience of her life, you would laugh.
you need to find a hobby or something, tetsurou. you send. and preferably one that doesn't involve tinder.
i have hobbies!
non-sexual ones?
he types for a while before a short, little totally! pops up on his side of the conversation.
and you hate that this is the part of him that’s most intriguing. the unintentional charm, too weird for his own good part that keeps you texting him at four in the morning.
yeah, you send, quicker than you intended. totally.
and suddenly, you're really considering something you shouldn't. before tonight, you hadn't heard from in a while—at least not enough to be thinking about him. you'd resigned yourself to your little, single life and you figured boyfriends might be more harm than they're worth (at least for a while, anyway), but now you have a new little do you wanna come over? typed out into your messaging app, finger hovering over the send button.
you take a minute, trying to rationalize.
the responsible part of you thinks it's way too late to be asking for anything good. you have class in the morning, and you're all tucked into bed, and bringing him here would really stir up some old feelings you weren't looking to bring back right now.
the other part of you—the more fun of the two, you'll admit—knows that you're thinking about him and he's... definitely thinking of you, so what's the harm in indulging a little bit? maybe nothing would happen anyway and you'd just end up staring at each other for a while, but sitting in your bed alone, staring doesn't sound like the worst thing in the world.
you send the text.
there's radio silence for a moment, and you think you might have just fucked the whole we can be exes and friends! thing up, but after a moment or two, he replies.
really?
and you sigh, don't make me change my mind.
he sends an immediate be there in 10, and you flop yourself back into the pillows.
now, okay, you'd be lying if you said you haven't been in this situation before. you and kuroo have always had a strange habit of—gravitating towards each other, to put it politely. it doesn't matter how many times you guys swear each other off, there's always going to be a party, or a text, or a run-in at the grocery store that brings you together (in more ways than one).
the whole i just moaned your name thing, though, that one's new.
your eyes flicker up to the ceiling, then down to your feet, and then, finally, your phone—the reality of this whole thing sinking in a little.
are you supposed to—shave your legs for this? put on your good pajamas: the ones that ride up a little when you bend over? is that where this is going? you're pretty sure it is, but every time this has happened before, it's been a little more spontaneous than this. right now, you have time to prepare and time to think, which you're now realizing is something you really did not want.
you sit there for a minute, coming to the conclusion that this is kuroo. you dated for two years, and you shared a bed at night for more of that time than you'd care to admit, so what does it matter how prepared you are?
you hear a key turn in the front door (the one from under the mat; you took away his actual key you think) and, all of a sudden, you're kind of nervous.
you haven't felt this way in a while, especially when it comes to him. you think you might hate it.
nevertheless, your feet hit the floor and you let yourself pad your way into the entryway, just in time to see someone sliding his shoes into the gap between the doorway and the wall.
you flick the light on, and he jumps a little.
a beat of silence, and then, "hi."
that's all you can come up with right now, truly, and you blame half of it on the time and the other half on the fact that kuroo looks like that.
he's always been pretty, no doubt about that, but right now he looks a little beat up in a way that you have to admit you're kind of into.
his hair's messed up: half of it shifted more left than right, with a little curl to it that he doesn't normally have. his cheeks are red, and he's a sort of out of breath and—did he run here?
"hi," he says, smiling, heaving out a breath.
(oh, he totally did. maybe you're a little more alluring than you thought).
you chuckle out one more, final hi, before he steps towards you.
he smells good—not that that's something you focus on, obviously—but he's still wearing that cologne you bought him last christmas and there's a little tinge of sweat to him that suits him so much better than you'd think.
he has a t-shirt on—one you got from a concert a couple years ago; you can't remember exactly when anymore, but it's clear that the thing has gotten its wear. the hole in the left shoulder is glaring at you from here and you kind of want to poke it.
"i have your key, by the way," he says then, dangling the little thing between his fingers. "did you ask for it back?"
oops.
"i—meant to." you snatch it from him, tossing it onto one of the side tables. "definitely meant to."
his hand lingers there for a second, a big, toothy smile spread across his face. "oh, sure you did."
and you eye him, a short what's that supposed to mean? rolling out of your lips.
he shakes his head, moving closer again—so much so that you can feel the cast of his breath along your cheeks.
"you still like me," he says, and you swear you can see his vocal cords bob in his throat.
"pardon?"
"you think i'm fun—and endearing, and still worthy of a house key."
"i think you're nuts." you say, fluttering your lashes a little. "and really not in the position to be making these accusations."
"you really think so?" he leans in one more time, close enough that his lips brush that arch between your jaw and your neck. "go ahead—tell me all about how crazy i am."
you feel something inside you quiver.
this right here, this is the whole game between the two of you. some sick little cat-and-mouse thing that always leads to something that you regret in the morning and—inevitably—repeat next week.
truthfully, though, you're getting kind of sick of fighting it.
"god, i can't stand you." you back away, edging towards the hallway that leads to your room. "are you coming with me or what?"
and he grins, because of course he is.
reblogs are appreciated! ⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡
#hq x reader#kuroo x reader#kuroo tetsurou x reader#haikyuu x reader#kuroo x you#haikyuu#hq!!#if u recognize this one no you don't#hiiii
625 notes
·
View notes
Text
smoke and ash
a/n: this is based entirely on a post made by the amazing @cavillscurls and i was given permission to write it for her cause the idea actually made my brain go numb. plus just the thought of this man having an oral fixation paired with someone who also has an oral fixation?? beautiful. filthy. spectacular. it's quickly written cause i had the inspo at the time and really didn't want to lose it. so enjoy!
summary: cigar smoke trailed after him with every step, his mouth always desperate for something to wet, something to bite down on. and you with the match between your teeth indulged him every which way.
word count: 1.4k+
pairing: old man!logan howlett x f!reader
warnings: EXPLICIT SO MINORS DNI 18+ ONLY!!, oral fixation, spit kink, choking, dry humping, desperate!logan, overstimulation, cigars, they're fucking messy, dirty talk.
A dark stain of saliva coated the base of a match as you sat sprawled on his leather couch. Your teeth dug into it, creating an indent that would last until you decided it was time to strike the phosphorus and let it burn down. Sometimes they snapped. Other times you tossed them in the trash. Tonight you were intent on lighting it up—solely for the cigar currently stuffed in between his own lips.
He sucked at the end thoughtfully most nights. Glasses perched on the edge of his nose, a book he'd read a hundred times over propped in one hand—whiskey in his other. Half of it was already burnt through. Used within the span of a few days before stubbed out and saved.
“Interesting story?”
The soft hum was all he offered, his eyes flicking back and forth between the lines even though he could recite the words from memory. The pages were worn from use, spine cracked every which way, and you often considered buying him a new copy. If just to give the story a chance to breathe in his mind. Sink beneath the depths of memories that still floated along the surface—seeking to ruminate in the cracks of chaos.
“Logan.”
“Bub?”
“What does it taste like?”
At last he looked up, eyebrows lifted and fingers moving to drag the sticky wet cigar out of his mouth. “This?”
You nodded. “Good or bad or…”
“Better than those fuckin’ matches,” he scoffed, pointedly glaring at the splintered wood between your teeth—a nervous habit you had yet to kick. “C’mere and find out.”
Scrambling off the couch a bit too quickly, you found yourself perched in his lap, legs straddling his hips with a smile painted across your lips. He removed the match, flicking it into the discarded ashtray with contempt—happy to have your mouth empty and waiting. Only to place the soaked butt against your tongue, his tongue swiping across his bottom lip at the sight. You always imagined what the flavor resembled. Until it finally dawned on you.
This is how it tasted to kiss him. The bitter tang of the cigar muted by the flavor of the whiskey he drank and the mints he chewed in his spare time. You sucked on the remnants of his saliva, your mind lighting up at the feel of it. Of having something stuck between your lips, a thing you could fixate on.
“Taste’s like me don’t it?”
You nodded, shifting against his body as the first spark of heat began to slowly meld with the rest of your senses.
“Good girl,” he mumbled, the book forgotten to the side in favor of his hand sliding along your throat, thumb catching just beneath your chin. “Suck on it harder yeah? Want it to taste like ya when I smoke it again.”
A whine cracked in the back of your throat, your hips catching on the zipper of his jeans. “What about you?”
The mumbled words caused spit to drool down to your chin, his eyes tracking the slide of it with a heavy gaze. He wanted to lick it up. Swallow down what you offered. But the sight kept him transfixed—your tongue sliding along the end of the cigar as if it were his cock. Soaking it in your taste enough to drive him a bit closer to the edge, his other hand suddenly a harsh grip on your ass.
“I got what I need,” he replied with ease. “Yeah?”
You nodded, catching the glaze of desire in his dilated pupils. He wanted more than an empty mouth. The cigars appeased a side of him no one saw, a man who ached for something to bite down on, someone to taste even in the most mundane of ways. He was your guard dog looking to chew, to gnaw, even if spit flew out of his mouth with a feral edge of desperation. And with a grin, you stuffed three fingers into his mouth right down to the knuckle.
He took them with a moan, tongue laving over the length of them as his hips bucked up into yours. The hot cavern of his mouth and wet slide of his tongue drew out a sound you never knew you could make. A biting grunt that made spit fly everywhere, splattering against his cheek to mix with his own.
Ripping the cigar from your mouth, you hastily licked around his full mouth. “Suck harder for me baby.”
They met the back of his throat, choking him enough to force his head back. His eyes rolled, nostrils flared, and for a moment you felt the power dynamic shift. You were in charge. Telling him what to do to appease the ache of pleasure growing in the pit of your stomach. And it might have lasted. He very well could have given you complete submission if it weren’t for the lack of the cigar in your mouth.
A growl rumbled up from his chest, eyes flashing dark enough to send a thrill down your spine, and before you could fix your mistake he rectified it for you. Three fingers—to match your own—were pushed harshly against your tongue, hooking behind your teeth to drag your face closer to his. You didn’t need to hear him to know what he wanted.
The intent blazed in his hazel eyes well enough: suck.
Through the haze of wanton lust you felt his hand begin to guide your hips along his crotch. The bulge of his cock straining against denim, pushing the metal zipper up for your clit to catch on each time. Clad in his flannel and cotton panties, you found yourself plummeting towards the burning ache that built faster than you could comprehend.
You ripped your hand from his mouth, burying the spit soaked fingers into his hair to grip him close. But it never remained enough. He wanted to delve beneath your skin. Seek the warmth that seeped from your body where his fingers kneaded and pushed to drag you to a fro. His teeth latched onto your shoulder, the sweater pulled to the side while his fingers met the back of your throat, choking you with their size.
A cry slipped past his knuckles as you humped his clothed cock—dragging yourself inch by inch towards the release you could practically taste. It clung to the tip of your tongue—the saccharine flavor intertwined with the tobacco musk of his fingers. You swallowed around them, drool spilling down your throat and pooling at the top of your breasts.
“That’s it,” he gasped, a line of bites trailing right to the juncture of your neck, his spit smeared across your skin. “Gonna cum for me?”
You whined harshly, body going taut as your clit pulsed rapidly with the impending wave of bliss that tugged sharply on your spine. The pain of his teeth puncturing hard enough to draw blood dragged a knife through the thin strand of resistance. And you came with his name at the back of your throat and white bursting behind tightly shut eyelids.
“Yes. Fuck–” His growl ran down the length of your spine, body trembling in his tight grasp. “That’s my girl.”
Unconsciously your nails punctured the skin at the back of his neck and with a jolt, he groaned long and ragged against your throat. A dark wet patch formed beneath his jeans as you soaked him with a spit filled cry. The pleasure wrung your body dry, pulling the final dregs of your energy straight from the source. Your chest heaved, mouth a gentle suckle at the very base of his fingers, and Logan could feel you begin to collapse forward into his chest.
“You really like when your mouth is filled,” he mused, lips curling into a smile.
Nodding, your voice was a content hum—his fingers dragging at the back of your teeth, tracing their shape. A kiss was pressed to your head, body slumping further into the chair with you atop him.
“Gonna get you some more matches in the mornin’,” he mumbled lazily. “My pretty girl needs a treat for being so good.”
Your heart fluttered, eyes glistening with the devotion you’d never dare to hide. The love that burned with the power of an eternal flame. Settling into his body, you felt his hand drag along the expanse of your thigh. Calming the storm in his mind—a catastrophe you longed to weather with him.
You were the balm to his weathered soul.
A permanent fixation of smoke and ash that surrounded his charred and splintered heart that burned for you.
#logan howlett x f!reader#logan howlett x reader#logan howlett x you#logan howlett x y/n#logan howlett smut#logan howlett#my writing
457 notes
·
View notes
Text
𝓌𝒽𝑒𝓃 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝓀𝓃𝑜𝓌 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝓀𝓃𝑜𝓌 (𝓅𝒶𝓇𝓉 𝐼𝐼)
fandom: gravity falls
relationship: stanford pines x reader
summary: the moment Ford realized he loved you.
contains: fluff, pining, a few little references, no dialogue
some folks who loved part I: @thistrashisreadytobash @allies-diary @gravity-falls-fanatic89 @nelson-and-murdock
It had been a few months since Ford realized he liked you, and he was handling it… relatively well.
Upon fully registering the fact that he had a thing for you, Stanford decided to give it some time just to see if the crush would fade and things would go back to normal. But as weeks passed, it gradually became clear that these feelings weren’t going anywhere. Especially since a lot of cheesy love songs were starting to make a lot of sense to him all of a sudden.
That being said, he had found a way to make the best of the situation. Ford still spent time with you, fortunately still feeling comfortable in your company.
Though he had to admit, even the littlest things you did, like looking in his direction with those soulful eyes and saying his name, had a habit of getting his train of thought lost for a good second, resulting in him having to catch himself before he could say something stupid.
Now, strolling along the boardwalk, he found himself lost in thought. Whenever the two of you would part ways at the end of the day, even if you had just spent hours together, it always felt like he was leaving your side too soon. Like he always wanted just a few more minutes with you.
If Ford were to be completely honest, it was a bit frustrating, liking you. He had only had a select few crushes in the past- all of which seemed to go awry in some way or another- and none of them measured up to what he felt for you. Whereas he would feel little bouts of giddy excitement at the thought of his previous objects of infatuation, his crush on you was a whole other ball park. The joy was still there, of course, but it was evenly accompanied by a tightness in his chest that would have him distracted during the day and restless at night.
And as if on cue, the sound of your voice pulled Ford out of his thoughts, prompting him to lift his gaze from the old wooden planks of the boardwalk so he could see you walking in his direction and the distant clouds suddenly make way for the afternoon sun. He walked with you across the dock, sharing how your days have been and other such whatever.
Despite its difficulties, Ford liked this part of spending time with you. Ultimately, conversation with you has always been as easy as breathing. You understood each other's idiosyncrasies, and even liked each other all the more for them, and you just passed the time together so well.
For most of his life, Stanford had been brought up to meet certain expectations set up by those around him, thanks to his higher-than-average academic smarts.
But standing at the edge of the pier, leaning against the railing, staring out at the plum tinted sea with you, all of those things were put on the back-burner, and he wasn’t the six-fingered freak or the de facto smartest kid in the room. He could just indulge in simple whimsy, like when you two would watch scary movies and judge the quality of the acting and the special effects, or get drinks together after school and hang out until it got dark.
It was rare for him to meet anyone who made him feel so comfortably… human.
As the sun got lower, the skies grew darker, and the carnival lights came on, the full weight of the situation gradually dawned on Ford as he took a couple of small side steps to be closer to you, fumbling curtly with his hands. He loved to see you, to talk to you, hear you laugh, to be next to you. He just… loved you.
#stanford pines x reader#ford pines x reader#ford x reader#gravity falls x reader#part 2#gravity falls#stanford pines#ford pines#teen ford#young ford pines#young stanford pines#young ford#my stuff#my writing#fluff#pining#when you know you know
976 notes
·
View notes
Text
Synastry indicating obsession
Hi friends! Today we’re looking closely at synastry indicating obsession or infatuation with someone. Not necessarily only romantic! Please like reblog & comment to boost this blog 💕
Venus 1h— Infatuation with how the Venus person carries themselves. You want to know how they style themselves, how it looks like it’s made for them—the clothes they wear, hair, makeup, etc. they have what you want which makes you even more attracted to them. This can also turn into idolization for the Venus person. In your eyes the Venus person is talented—skilled and charming. Its as if the Venus person has no flaws. This can easily turn into self comparison with the Venus person which is unhealthy.
Moon 8h— First it feels fated. It feels as if ya’ll have known each other for a long time. Deep innate curiosity to learn more about each other, yet there is so much that remains hidden. Disillusionment within each other is common here, both people may not know who they really are and self sabotage comes up in the connection to be healed. This type of synastry is deep and reignited past pain and trauma. Old attachment styles come up—making it harder to leave the moon person. The moon person can shut off emotionally from the house person, leaving the house person craving more connection. Lack of boundaries—the house person may not leave until there is significant emotional hurt. The connection also struggles with being hidden or people cant know about it. An aspect will always remain hidden. Emotions or not wanting to put a label on the connection.
Saturn conj. Venus— Hot take—I know a lot of people see this as a marriage indicator. And maybe it is, I won’t deny that fact. From my observation, I’ve had this synastry twice and did not necessarily lead to marriage, just lessons to be learned. Usually the Venus persons old attachment style gets triggered. They feel alone and unfulfilled in themselves, not necessarily because of the saturn person. But their inner child is wounded & so they look to the saturn person for stability, strength and protection. Codependent behaviors can be enabled because the venus person does not know how to create internal balance. Father wounds come out in this type of synastry the most. Saturn person can also shut off emotionally from the venus person and be avoidant towards intimacy—feeling afraid to be “vulnerable.”
Venus-pluto— The venus person feels instantly attracted to the pluto person. Or vice versa—both people are affected. Chemistry, sexual tension. Yet underneath hides pain and trauma—which controls the two in the connection unless both heal from it. Very possible both carry pain regarding toxic masculinity & toxic femininity. But still feel drawn to each other because it replays their past—which the two got too comfortable with. It became easy to settle with what they knew than to find actual safety. Lots of transformation, personal power can result from this. Usually this connections ends in shambles, disgust, or never talking ever again. Usually the pluto person ends up hurting venus person—cheating, spreading rumors, jealousy, etc. so much more! Its as if they both cannot get enough of each other yet its “forbidden,” or “taboo” to be in the connection. There is an aspect that the connection has to remain hidden—until it becomes revealed.
Jupiter 8h, Jupiter 1h, and Jupiter 4h- Controversial, but Jupiter can indicate our indulgence. If Jupiter sits in these places especially the 4h its likely the house person will automatically crave a bond and connection with this person. While its sweet—this can turn sideways. The house person becomes comfortable in their old ways and habits, because the Jupiter person can enable their codependency. An indulgence of self victimization—learned helplessness. Jupiter 4h makes house person crave a family they didn’t have, so they cling to the fantasy of it all. Dismissing red flags from the Jupiter person. Jupiter 8h makes the house person want to be consumed by the idea of unveiling the Jupiter person. Wants to know all their secrets, and analyze everything of them. Too much to the point of neglecting themselves. If the Jupiter person leaves—house person will adopt their traits and such. Its a way of holding onto what they wish they had internally—they project their desires onto the Jupiter person.
Planets in the 12h— Immediate attraction & curiosity. The connection can feel fated, or meant to be. The two experience intense highs and lows in the connection because of the lessons. Almost always its a lesson of boundaries and saying no. Usually in these connections, there is a lack of commitment or unavailability—yet the house person craves the moon person for that “deep connection.” The house person feels understood in ways they never had before, so they cling hard to what they receive, even if its unhealthy. Periods of no contact—avoidance, shutting down emotionally is common. Usually the strength of the connection is also tested by people around them or external factors. Gossip, rumours are spread to distort both perceptions of each other in the connection. Eventually one person realizes someone is not being who they say they are—and leave.
Sun 1h— House person is drawn to the way sun person carries themselves. Idolized them, places them on a pedestal. Gives the sun person the privilege of being seen as “more,” even though we are all equal. The house person can strive to be as unique and talented as the sun person & can overdo it. Easy for the house person to compare themselves especially if they are struggling in an area where the sun person is great at. This has potential to become an amazing connection, however.
Mars—The house person can feel isolated or lonely simply because the mars person can come across aggressive. Yet the mars person is captivating, exuberant, and full of life to the house person despite the toxicity. There could be misogyny, sexism, manipulation tactics here. Lots of sexual undertones as well—since it represents action. The house person feels “alive” with the mars person because of their energy, and finds themselves being pulled in very fast. Instant attraction vibes. The two can play a game of “playing hard to get,” which makes it more thrilling—yet there was no commitment to stay in the connection at first. The house person is enamored and hooked onto the charisma of the mars person—willing to toss away their boundaries. The mars person can reenact a lot of toxic behaviors the house person experienced, finding themselves all over in the same position. Lots of competition between the two, to be better or higher than the other. But both are constantly on each other’s mind—which is where the obsession starts.
Thanks so much for reading ya’ll! Highly appreciated it. Hoping to hear y’all’s perspective kindly—I love listening! I love these flower pics. Ima use it again sometime lol.
Extra
Paid Readings 🤍
#astrology community#devi post#astrology#tarotcommunity#divination#tarot deck#tarot#witchcraft#tarot reading#pick a pile#pick a card romance#pick a picture#pick a card#astro posts#astrology notes#astro notes#astro#astro observations
830 notes
·
View notes
Text
OnlyFat
Nigel looked at himself in the mirror, as he did every morning, admiring his toned and sculpted body, the result of years of dieting and hard work at the gym. At 28 years old, he felt at the peak of his physical form. Firm muscles, broad shoulders, and a defined abdomen, along with his handsome face and sizable cock, had earned him a considerable number of followers on OnlyFans. While he wasn’t a millionaire, earning an average of about two thousand dollars a month allowed him certain luxuries and a pretty comfortable lifestyle. He enjoyed his routine. He filmed private videos, always eager to please, and responded to the strangest and most specific requests from his fans. No matter what they asked of him, he always found a way to enjoy it; perhaps due to his naturally submissive nature, something he had discovered long ago and now used to his advantage.
That Tuesday, as he checked the messages in his account, he came across a proposal that made him pause. It was from someone named Dom43, who had written to him several times before, though never with such a direct request. The message read:
“I’ll give you a thousand dollars if you gain ten pounds of fat in a month and send me a video of the results. No tricks. I want to see how you change. What do you say?”
Nigel raised an eyebrow and reread the offer over and over. It wasn’t the typical request he was used to. At first, it seemed strange, almost absurd. But the money—a thousand dollars!—was a considerable temptation. Plus, a part of him, the part that had always enjoyed obeying and submitting to others’ desires, felt a twinge of excitement at the idea. After a few minutes of thought, he shrugged and let himself go with his gut.
“I accept,” he wrote back.
He knew doing this would change something, though he wasn’t sure what. What he didn’t expect was just how much this would lead him down an unexpected path.
For Nigel, gaining ten pounds in a month didn’t seem like much of a challenge. And he knew that once he hit the goal and pocketed that thousand dollars, he could go back to his strict diet and regain his physique in a matter of weeks. It was just a simple detour, a small, temporary indulgence. Nothing serious. With that assurance, he decided to change his eating habits.
That same afternoon, he went to the grocery store, filling his cart with everything he normally avoided: frozen pizzas, pastries, salty snacks, and especially lots of tubs of ice cream, which he promised himself to devour every night. Salads were out of the picture for a few weeks. When he got home, the idea of indulging in unrestrained pleasure, of breaking the rules he had imposed on himself for years, turned him on. Even more so when he remembered he was doing it for Dom43, to fulfill his request.
That night, he sat on the couch in front of the TV, a pizza on one side and a tub of ice cream on the other, a smile on his face. At first, he ate because he was hungry, but soon that hunger turned into something darker, more intimate. He kept eating, even though he was no longer hungry. The mere thought of knowing he was stuffing himself, filling up to please someone, gave him a thrill he had never experienced before. When he finished, he lay back on the couch, gently stroking his slightly bloated stomach, feeling strangely satisfied.
***
Two weeks had passed, and Nigel had fully embraced his new routine of excess. He was eating as if it were a competition. The food filled him, but what really satisfied him was the idea of transforming his body at someone else’s request. He knew he was changing, that his body was reacting. And it was confirmed when he weighed himself: eight pounds gained. He was close to reaching his goal.
The next day, while working out, his personal trainer, Mark, noticed something different. Nigel was in the middle of doing crunches when Mark let out a mocking laugh.
“You’ve been slacking a bit, man,” he said, giving Nigel’s stomach a light tap. “You’ve put on some weight. And not just around the belly…” Mark added, motioning toward his backside.
Nigel laughed, trying to hide the heat rushing to his face. “Yeah, well, I’ve been indulging a little—nothing serious.”
Mark shook his head, but the comment stuck with Nigel. That teasing remark hit deep. It didn’t bother him, though. On the contrary, he liked it. For the rest of the workout, he couldn’t stop thinking about how his body was changing, about how much Dom43 would enjoy watching him soften up.
When he got home, he quickly stripped off his clothes and looked in the mirror. He touched his stomach, which was no longer as flat as it once was, and caressed the soft roundness beginning to form on his rear. Mark’s words echoed in his mind, and at that moment, Nigel couldn’t resist any longer. He collapsed onto his bed and jerked off, reaching the most intense climax of his life. What had started as a simple game to make some money had now completely consumed him.
The month had come to an end, and Nigel was ready. He carefully set up the camera, making sure the lighting was perfect, bright enough to highlight every change in his body, to show Dom43 the results of his effort. He stood in front of the mirror, took a deep breath, and began undressing slowly, recording the whole process. First, he removed his shirt, revealing his torso. His chest, once firm and defined, now had a slight sag to it. His belly, swollen and covered by a soft layer of fat, folded into rolls when he bent slightly. Then he pulled down his pants, leaving him in his tight white briefs, which now clung to him like never before. His thighs were noticeably thicker. But the real surprise came when he turned around. His ass, bigger and rounder, seemed to want to burst out of the tight fabric. The briefs could barely contain it. He gently touched his ass, feeling its fullness. Without missing a beat, he moved to the scale he had placed in front of the camera. He stepped on it carefully, watching the numbers climb rapidly. And there it was, the number that left him stunned: 191 pounds. He had gained fifteen pounds instead of the ten Dom43 had asked for. Five extra pounds, the result of his complete submission to food. Seeing the number, Nigel instantly got hard, unable to help himself.
“A hundred and ninety-one...” he muttered to himself.
Without thinking any further, he let the excitement take over. He jerked off in front of the camera, his breath ragged, and his moans filling the room. He did it for Dom43, but also for himself, for everything he had discovered about himself in the process.
Once finished, he sent the private video with a mix of anxiety and satisfaction, eagerly awaiting Dom43’s response. It didn’t take long to arrive: a payment confirmation accompanied by a comment that made Nigel shiver. “You’re a pathetic pig. You gained all this weight just because I told you to. I love it.” Nigel read aloud quietly. “I’ll give you ten thousand dollars more if you gain another twenty pounds in two months. Do you dare to become my fantasy?”
Nigel sat on the edge of his bed, staring at his still-naked, slightly sweaty body after the recording. His phone’s screen glowed with Dom43’s message: ten thousand dollars to gain another twenty pounds. The offer was tempting, too tempting. With that kind of money, he wouldn’t have to make more videos for months. He could take a break from his online life and focus on something else. Just the thought of that financial freedom made him feel relieved. But there was something more—a deep desire to please Dom43, to follow his orders, to submit to whatever he asked. It consumed him inside. He had discovered a new form of pleasure. Every pound he gained, every humiliating comment, ignited something within him that he had never felt before. Pleasing Dom43 had become almost an addiction. Yet, fear lingered in the background. He had already gained fifteen pounds, and although he initially thought he could lose it easily, he was starting to doubt whether the same would be true for thirty-five pounds. What if he couldn’t? What if continuing to gain weight destroyed the success of his OnlyFans account?
***
Nigel never imagined he would lose so much control. What started as a challenge, almost a game, had become a new reality. In just a month and a half of nonstop eating, he had gained the twenty-pounds Dom43 requested, pushing his body to limits he had never thought possible. Now weighing 211 pounds, the man he saw in the mirror was almost unrecognizable. His belly hung over the waistband, his thighs rubbed together with every step, and his once firm chest now bounced lightly with each movement. But the most shocking transformation of all was his ass, now enormous, two soft masses that jiggled with every step. And for some reason, that excited him more than it scared him.
When he arrived at the gym one afternoon, Mark greeted him with his usual mocking grin.
"Well, look who's here: my star client," Mark said sarcastically, his eyes scanning Nigel’s new body.
Throughout the workout, Mark made constant comments about his weight. Every time Nigel did a squat or lifted weights, he could feel Mark’s eyes on him, watching how his belly wobbled or how his ass strained against his shorts, which barely contained it anymore. But the most intense moment came after the workout when Nigel stepped out of the showers. As he was drying off, he noticed Mark watching him from across the locker room.
"Jesus, man..." Mark said, his eyes trailing over Nigel’s naked body. "You're huge. Like, seriously."
Before Nigel could respond, Mark stepped closer and gave him a smack on the ass. The sound echoed in the room, and Nigel’s butt cheeks rippled under Mark’s firm hand like jello. Nigel felt his face heat up, a mix of shame and arousal spreading over his skin.
"Damn," Mark laughed, "that moves like jello. What have you been eating, ice cream by the gallon? You’re getting obese, dude."
Nigel couldn’t answer, his throat dry, his mind stuck on the echo of Mark’s words. Obese. It was the first time anyone had called him that, and instead of being offended, the word hit him like a lightning bolt of pure desire. He tried to laugh, but the sound came out weak, almost choked.
He stood in front of the camera, taking deep breaths as he prepared for his second private session with Dom43. Like before, he undressed slowly, savoring each moment. He pulled off his shirt, revealing a torso that no longer had any trace of the firm muscles he once prided himself on. His chest was soft and round, visibly moving with each breath. His nipples had widened and felt unusually sensitive as he brushed his fingers over them. Then he slid off his pants, left in the same white briefs from the previous video. This time, they felt like a cruel joke. The edges dug into his hips and thighs, squeezing him in a way that was both uncomfortable and intensely arousing. His swollen belly hung slightly over the waistband, which seemed ready to give up the fight. Nigel turned to face the camera, letting it capture the most obvious change of all: his ass. It completely filled the briefs, making them look absurdly small. The fabric was stretched to its limit, with the tops of his cheeks spilling over, exposing the crack as if the briefs couldn’t possibly contain so much mass. He gave a slight shake, and his ass jiggled, continuing to bounce for a few seconds before settling. Seeing himself like that—so exposed, so impossibly large—sent a wave of arousal through him that nearly made him lose control right then and there. Nigel couldn’t help but smile. He knew Dom43 would love seeing what he had accomplished. The high point of the video came when he stepped onto the scale, carefully positioned in front of the camera. He showed the result: 211 pounds. Thirty-five pounds more than he weighed when this all began. He couldn’t help himself; the thrill of having transformed for someone else, of having fully surrendered to it, overwhelmed him. Once again, he masturbated in front of the camera, but this time, the orgasm was more intense, more liberating. His breath grew ragged, and every curve of his body shook with the force of his release.
When it was over, he sent the video to Dom43. The payment came through quickly, but what made Nigel’s heart race wasn’t the large sum of money. It was the words that followed.
“You’ve become my obedient pig. You’re good for nothing but getting fatter. You should be ashamed of how far you’ve fallen, but the worst part is, I know you love it.”
Nigel swallowed hard, feeling a knot tighten in his stomach. It was true. He loved every humiliating word, every cruel comment that made him feel smaller, more submissive, despite his growing size. But it was the last line of the message that left him frozen.
“I’ll give you twenty thousand dollars if you gain another thirty pounds.”
***
Nigel was nervous. It had been over two months since he last filmed a video for his regular OnlyFans subscribers, and now, with his body drastically transformed, he had no idea how they would react. He wanted to see if the weight gain had changed anything, if his fans were still interested in him despite the fact that he no longer had the muscular, chiseled physique that had attracted them in the first place. Deep down, he hoped it wouldn’t matter too much, that they would still desire him, and that he wouldn’t have to rely on Dom43 to stay financially stable. He set up the camera like always, but this time, he took a longer look at himself in the mirror. It was incredible how much his body had changed in just two months. His body felt heavy. Every movement made him more aware of his size.
"It's just a video," he whispered to himself, trying to calm his nerves. "I just want to see how they react."
He stood in front of the camera, shirtless, revealing his round, soft torso, wearing only a pair of black briefs that used to be loose on him. He did the usual gestures he used in his videos, showing his body from different angles, touching his chest and stomach, running his hands over the areas now covered in fat.
He uploaded the video.
The first responses came in quickly. As soon as he read the comments, his fears were confirmed. There was no acceptance, no admiration. Just criticism, mockery, and, above all, shock.
“What happened to you? You used to look incredible, but now you look like a different person,” wrote one of his longtime followers.
“You’re huge! And not in a good way. What kind of joke is this?” added another.
The comments kept coming, each one harsher than the last. They called him fat and disgusting. Some even felt betrayed by the change, as if Nigel had deliberately hidden what he’d been doing over the past few months. Others openly laughed at him, making fun of how his body had lost all definition. Nigel read every word, feeling a mix of humiliation and indescribable excitement. He had expected a negative reaction, but the brutal honesty of their attacks surpassed all his expectations. Far from feeling defeated, something dark and deep inside him awakened. Each insult, each criticism, made him feel more alive, more aware of his body and what he had achieved. The taunts about his physique didn’t discourage him; they aroused him in a way he couldn’t ignore. It was as if those words freed him. He didn’t want to go back. He wanted to push forward. He turned off his computer screen and lay back on the bed, staring at the ceiling. Dom43 had offered him twenty thousand dollars to gain another thirty pounds. Thirty pounds that would transform him even more, taking him to a new level of submission. He had thought about rejecting the offer, about going back to his former physique. But after reading his fans’ comments, after feeling the impact of their words on his body, there was no longer any doubt. With a smile on his face, Nigel decided he was going to accept the challenge. He was ready to fully give in, to see just how far he could go.
***
Nigel stopped going to the gym altogether. Every morning, he woke up to the same routine: eat, jerk off, and eat more. His appetite seemed endless, and his libido was out of control, higher than ever. The discipline he once had had crumbled, replaced by an obsession with giving in to food and the thrill of his own transformation. His clothes no longer fit. The jeans, tight shirts, and briefs that had once defined his muscular figure now wouldn't even make it past his thighs or tore when he tried putting them on. Soon, he realized the only piece of clothing that still fit him was an old tracksuit, and even that didn’t fit well—it was so tight that the fabric stretched ridiculously, and his belly stuck out. He only wore it when he went out to buy more food, but at home, he spent his days completely naked.
In three months, Nigel had gained another thirty-five pounds, surpassing even Dom43’s challenge. His body was unrecognizable, and the scale didn’t lie. He weighed 246 pounds, a number he’d never imagined reaching. His thighs were so thick they had changed the way he walked. His belly was soft, round, and hung over. His arms, once firm, were now wrapped in fat. And his chest, completely soft, jiggled with even the slightest movement. He knew it was time to film the video for Dom43. He prepared in the simplest and most provocative way possible: completely naked, with a box of donuts by his side and the scale ready to show the result. The camera started rolling, and Nigel let himself get caught up in the moment. He grabbed one of the donuts and bit into it slowly, letting the sugar slide down his lips as he chewed exaggeratedly. He knew Dom43 would love to see him like this, enjoying the food that had turned him into what he was now.
“I’ve surpassed your challenge,” Nigel said, his voice thick with pleasure as he bit into another donut. “Another thirty-five pounds. I hope you’re happy.”
He stood up with difficulty, his ass visibly bouncing as he walked toward the scale. He stepped onto it with some effort, and it stopped at 246 pounds. Nigel showed the number to the camera with a satisfied grin on his face.
“246 pounds,” he said with pride in his voice. “But that’s not all.”
He grabbed a measuring tape and started measuring his body. First, he wrapped it around his waist.
“Fifty inches,” he announced, staring at his belly.
Then he measured his ass, which had turned into a massive ball of fat, and the number was just as shocking.
“Fifty-three inches. I can’t even fit in my office chair.”
Nigel paused for a moment, looking at the camera with a euphoric expression.
“All of this... is for you, Dom43. I hope you’re enjoying this as much as I am.”
He ended the video with one last bite, chewing slowly as he jiggled his whole body while masturbating. When he finished, he turned off the camera and collapsed onto the couch, panting from exhaustion. He sent the video to Dom43 and waited, knowing the response wouldn’t take long. When it came, it was exactly what he expected.
“You’ve exceeded my expectations, pig. I never imagined you’d reach this point, that you’d become such a mountain of fat for me. Look at yourself, you’re pathetic, completely out of control. And you know what? I love it. You’ve done everything I asked and more. You’re the perfect submissive fat boy. You’re good for nothing but eating, getting fatter, and letting others laugh at you. But I must also say, I’m proud of you. You’ve proven you’re completely mine, willing to transform yourself this way just to please me. You’re incredible, in the worst way possible, of course, but that’s exactly where your greatness lies.”
Nigel stared at the screen, absorbed in the words. He had done everything Dom43 had wanted. And yet, he felt he could go further. The idea of gaining even more weight, of leaving behind any trace of his former self, called to him with unstoppable force. Without thinking too much, he typed the question that had been on his mind for days, a question that made him tremble with anticipation:
“How much will you pay me if I reach 300 pounds?”
The silence that followed for a few seconds was deafening, but Dom43’s response came quickly.
“I’m not paying you anything. This time, you won’t do it for the money. I want you to do it for me, because you can’t stop yourself now. I want you to gain until you reach 300 pounds just to please me, because now you know that’s the only thing that turns you on. You’ll do it because you belong to me.”
Nigel took a deep breath, feeling each word of that message wrap around him, filling him with a mix of submission and absolute pleasure. He knew Dom43 was right. It was no longer about the money. It was about something much bigger. What had started as a simple desire to fulfill a fantasy had become his reality. With trembling fingers, he typed the only thing he knew he could say at that moment, the only thing his mind and cock screamed for with overwhelming clarity:
“I’ll do it.”
838 notes
·
View notes
Text
Sevika x Agegap!Reader PT.2
WARNINGS:Little suggestive at the end
WC:976
You’re the type of person who wakes up at full speed. Like, as soon as your eyes open, you’re bouncing around the apartment, making breakfast, humming random songs, and generally being a menace to Sevika’s peace.
Sevika, meanwhile, is not a morning person. She’s a “grumble into her coffee while glaring at the world” type of woman.
“Good morning, sunshine!” you chirp one morning, plopping onto the couch beside her.
She squints at you over her mug. “How are you like this at seven in the morning?”
“It’s called being happy to be alive, Sev! You should try it sometime!”
She takes a long sip of her coffee, pretending she didn’t hear you.
You also have a habit of waking her up in the most chaotic ways possible. Once, you tried to wake her by playing a trumpet sound on your phone at full volume. She didn’t even flinch—just pulled you into bed and trapped you there until you promised to let her sleep.
You’re always saying or doing something that leaves Sevika pinching the bridge of her nose.
“Sevika, do you think if I ran fast enough, I could jump across that rooftop?”
“No.”
“But what if—”
“No.”
One time, you got bored and decided to teach yourself how to juggle. You didn’t tell Sevika, so she walked into the apartment to find you throwing knives in the air like it was no big deal.
“WHAT are you doing?” she barked, immediately snatching the knives out of the air.
“Juggling!” you said, as if it were obvious.
“You’re going to kill yourself.”
“But it looks cool, right?”
She sighed. “You’re lucky you’re cute.”
You love to tease Sevika about being older than you, especially when she does something remotely “old lady”-ish.
“Why do you always order the same thing at the bar, Sev? Is it a comfort thing? Are you stuck in your ways?”
“It’s called knowing what I like,” she replies, glaring at you.
“Next thing I know, you’ll be complaining about kids these days,” you tease, dodging the pillow she throws at you.
You also have a habit of calling her “grandma” just to see how far you can push her.
“Hey, Sev, want me to knit you a blanket? I bet your joints get cold in the winter.”
She gives you the iciest glare imaginable, but you swear you’ve seen her hide a smile.
The age gap means Sevika’s protective instincts are in overdrive. She feels like it’s her job to keep you safe, and she takes it very seriously.
“You’re not invincible,” she says after patching up a scrape you got from one of your harebrained ideas.
“No, but I have you,” you reply, grinning.
She mutters something about how you’re going to give her a heart attack one day.
If you ever get hurt, even if it’s something minor, Sevika goes full mom mode. She’s lecturing you while cleaning the wound, even though her touch is gentle and she’s clearly worried.
“This is why I tell you to think before you do something stupid,” she grumbles.
“But where’s the fun in that?” you joke, and she just sighs.
Sevika pretends like she doesn’t care about your antics, but she absolutely indulges you when no one else is around.
You want to go stargazing on the roof in the middle of the night? She grumbles but helps you climb up there.
You want to bake cookies at 2 a.m. because you “had a craving”? She’s half-asleep but still helps you find the flour.
You want to dress her up in ridiculous clothes “for fun”? She lets you. But only once. And only because you promised not to tell anyone.
You once dragged her to a carnival, and though she claimed she was “too old for this crap,” you caught her smiling while watching you try to win a stuffed animal at a ring toss game. (Spoiler: she stepped in and won it for you with ease. You still call her your hero for it.)
For all your energy, you have moments when you crash, and that’s when Sevika shines. She’s surprisingly good at taking care of you when you’ve worn yourself out.
She’ll scoop you up, carry you to bed, and rub your back until you fall asleep.
If you’re overwhelmed, she knows exactly how to calm you down—usually by sitting you in her lap and letting you ramble while she strokes your hair.
One night, you were feeling particularly insecure about the age gap. “What if I’m too much for you, Sev? Like, what if you get tired of me?”
Sevika immediately shut that down. “You’re a pain in my ass, but you’re my pain in the ass,” she said, pulling you into her arms. “I’m not going anywhere, so stop overthinking.”
She didn’t let you go until you fell asleep, and even then, she stayed awake to make sure you were okay.
Sure, Sevika grumbles about your energy, and you tease her about being old, but at the end of the day, you balance each other out.
You remind her not to take life too seriously.
She keeps you grounded when your chaotic energy gets the better of you.
And even though she claims to not understand your jokes, you’ve caught her smiling at them more than once. She may not laugh, but the fact that you can make her smile? That’s enough for you.
At the end of the day, Sevika’s your grumpy, overprotective girlfriend, and you’re her chaotic little sunshine. She acts like you drive her insane (and you probably do), but she wouldn’t trade you for anything.
“Sevika, I’m pretty sure you secretly love my energy.”
“I tolerate it,” she replies, smirking.
“That’s not what you said last night,” you tease, and she groans.
“One day, I’m going to muzzle you.”
“Good luck, gramps!”
Idk if I’ll write more fics abt this
I want food
#arcane x reader#arcane x y/n#arcane x you#x reader#x you#x y/n#sevika season 2#sevika league of legends#sevika x you#sevika imagine#Sevika#sevika x y/n#sevika lol#sevika arcane#sevika x reader
309 notes
·
View notes
Text
for lovers who hesitate — tsukishima kei
synopsis: you find your old academic rival at your new job. every bone in your body says it’s fate, but everything else seems to be stopping you.
notes: puking cuz idk how i feel abt this one. i worked on this all thru out my trip and there was a lot of scrapping and rewriting and deleting the entire thing and rewriting it again, but i think this version is the best i could get it to. i <3 tsukishima kei
tags: fluff → angst → fluff, self-indulgent long fic, reader smokes, reader has trauma w/ their parents, mainly fem reader oriented but gn pronouns used, reader has self-destructive habits, themes of self-doubt from both, tsukishima is probably ooc, slow burn but not really, the most awkward love confession ever, mitski rdr x radiohead tsukishima (sorry), proofread but not really
tsukishima kei, for once, was at a loss for words.
there you stood beneath the bright green foliage, your face marred by the heatwaves of the sun and still all too familiar. he thought, for a moment, that he had the wrong person — you had taken on a rougher appearance, but his body, heart, and soul still recognized you. and yet, he couldn’t bring himself to speak to you.
where had the last decade gone?
he coughed into his fist and walked past you, feigning ignorance to your arrival. when you followed after him with a keycard of your own, he found himself flustered.
no words were exchanged. he was playing the silent game with you, although he quietly hoped you would say something first.
and thus, he continued his shift as usual, with the added oddity of you shadowing him alongside his boss. he just couldn’t find the proper words to place on his tongue, nor the right gestures to show that he did want to talk, he just didn’t know how to.
but truthfully, what was one supposed to say in such a situation?
𝜗𝜚 。 ˚.
you believed that tsukishima hated you. and you wouldn’t blame him.
when you applied for this job, you had no expectations going into it, save for the hope of a higher salary and a lighter load than your previous job. what you had not anticipated was to stand face to face with the man you swore to hate in your youth.
a sliver of hope embedded itself within you; an overwhelming desire to perhaps refurbish a long lost relationship had taken root. but when he looked away so persistently and spoke not a word to you, that sliver dissipated into meaningless sand.
you continued your work as best as possible. it was a routine job — set up the displays for the day, guide whatever visitors came around, and leave in the afternoon. but when a certain blonde was sneaking glances at you and somehow always in your vicinity, it proved to be easier said than done.
you were too afraid to admit that his presence was refreshing. that, in the midst of the mundane and borderline unhealthy cycle you had formulated within the past handful of years following graduation, he had proven to be an odd factor; he stood as a disruptor to the routine. it was unwelcome. and even still, you craved it and more.
tsukishima kei had always been a constant in your life. you just didn’t expect him to reappear so soon, so suddenly.
𝜗𝜚 。 ˚.
it was a wednesday. an uneventful shift had come to an end. and just as you rid yourself of your work attire, a verbal invitation to a work party was sent your way.
the prospect of it was almost laughable. you were under the impression that the body of employees in a museum would be too reserved to host parties such as this, and you were quickly proven otherwise. thus, you accepted instantly.
as soon as you sat down, you regretted it just as quickly.
the moon had just barely begun to hang bright in the sky, and yet the table was already full of drunken coworkers that you hadn’t seen before. loud chatter filled the room, as if this table was the only one in the establishment. it was overbearing.
before you could take even a sip of your drink, you excused yourself under the pretense of needing to use the restroom. instead, you escaped outside, the gentle breeze reestablishing your senses and reeling you back in.
he was also there.
“oh,” he exclaimed softly. his eyes drifted away from yours, the warmth of his cheeks illuminated by the dim lamp above. oh was the first word he had ever spoken to you since graduation. you nearly laughed.
“hello,” you offered quietly, still testing the waters of conversation. your gaze fell to his fingers, slim and cherry-kissed and blemished, fiddling with the hem of his shirt. “um… i didn’t expect to see you here…?”
tsukishima laughed lightly at your tone, as if to conceal his own anxieties. “likewise.” he watched as you pulled out a cigarette, the stick meeting your lips like it were more than natural. “did you come all this way to stalk me? or to follow me? after all those years of silence?” he teased, although a tinge of bitterness dripped from his words.
you shook your head aggressively. “no, no, i just…” you bit at your lip for a moment before continuing. “i’m taking a break from my actual job. i needed to wind down before i return.”
tsukishima hummed at your response, evidently oblivious to your lie. he looked at you for a moment too long, his eyes grazing over each alteration and unfamiliar feature. he could not help but admire you in this light — the soft strings of moonlight in contrast with the neon signs glaring against your complexion painted an image he hadn’t seen in ages.
for the first time in a long time, tsukishima kei thought you were unbearably pretty.
what he didn’t catch wind of was your nervous shuffles and your incessant skin-picking as you stood beside him. he didn’t realize that the cigarette was a distractor, a tool to pull you back in. and he failed to acknowledge the stutter in your voice as you spoke to him, for it hadn’t crossed his mind once that you thought he disliked you. not that it would matter to him, anyways.
it’s too soon, he thought to himself. this is stupid, he argued. i’d mess it up if i did anything reckless, he reasoned. all of which were excuses to fight against the overwhelming reality of his vulnerability.
you turned your head away, the extended silence whittling away at whatever confidence you once bore. tsukishima watched with framed eyes and a calculative stare, as if scrutinizing each and every action you took. unbeknownst to you, it was the exact opposite of that.
the soft call of your name from inside the bar pulled your attention away, much to his dismay. he witnessed your frame disappear through the doors, your eyes flitting towards his so quickly he might’ve imagined it.
this was foolish. tsukishima decided that much. but despite his claims of how stupid it was, he was getting reeled in faster than he could pull out.
𝜗𝜚 。 ˚.
despite how hard he tried to display his ignorance, tsukishima was caring at his core.
silent glances exchanged between shifts morphed into small conversations shared whenever possible, as if the tension that previously barred you from interaction had dissipated into nothingness.
at some point, he dropped off a neatly wrapped bento box to your desk, the fabric littered with small dinosaur doodles.
“what is this?” you questioned, an amused lilt to your voice. you failed to notice the way pink rose to his ears, too enamored by the intricate arrangement of veggies and rice.
“don’t think anything of it. i just had leftover food and didn’t want to waste it.” the excuse slipped through his lips as if it were truth, earning him a soft smile from you.
there were butterflies whipping their wings against his ribcage so aggressively they might have bulged out from his skin.
eventually, you invited him out for a walk to the convenience store nearby during your break. and after that, it became routine. with an umbrella in one hand and his wallet in another, tsukishima walked with you down the street to buy onigiri and sandwiches and sometimes a sweet treat nearly every day, and that shared hour became his favorite part of work.
it was silly.
you sat beside him in the booth, your blistered hands carefully unwrapping the plastic from your meal. to your left sat a can of soda. and to your right, he was there.
“i need to stop living off of these,” you complained while motioning towards the onigiri in your grasp.
tsukishima shook his head. “what else would you eat?”
“your bento boxes,” you commented absentmindedly, your bites becoming larger as you neared the center of the rice. “i liked it, when you gave it to me that one time. you should make it again.”
he looked away, his chin resting atop the sweat of his palm. slowly, he turned towards you. “it’s just a bento box. surely you can handle making one.”
“oh, shut up!” you laughed while shoving him lightly. “the fact that you can even make one is shocking. all you have in that head is volleyball and shit.”
“our old test scores say otherwise,” he quipped. the shift in your eyes left a bitter taste on his tongue.
“whatever,” you muttered before leaving to throw out your trash. a pit grew in tsukishima’s stomach.
the blonde mustered the last of his resolve and made an offer. “i’ll teach you how to make one.”
𝜗𝜚 。 ˚.
of all the things tsukishima was bracing himself to see, a thinly-walled apartment that was less than well-maintained was the last thing he was prepared for.
you came out from your bedroom in clothes that were far more casual than his, your hair disheveled and your steps uneven. “sorry for the mess,” you uttered while bending down to pick up a hoodie sprawled across the floor, alongside a plastic bag that looked empty. he could only watch in awe.
he placed his bag down on your counter before arranging the ingredients, each brought from his own home. the clatter of your rushed cleaning echoed behind him. and when you finally stood beside the man, he could not contain his grin.
tsukishima decided to hold his tongue. instead, he opted to gently guide your hands through each step, the perspiration collecting on his skin a stark contrast from the rough texture of yours. he realized how little you knew, despite your insistence that you were more than knowledgeable in what you were doing — it showed in your unstable cutting and your hesitance when preparing the pot for boiling — but he refrained from commenting, in fear of disrupting the peace he’d constructed.
on the other hand, you were horrified.
to admit that you were inferior to him in yet another aspect uprooted the envy you had burrowed deep within yourself, and you were terrified of letting it overspill. he was so calm — at least, that was what it looked like — and you’d be damned to ruin it.
mitski’s soft hums reverberated in the background, your shaky chopping filling in the rest of the noise. it was almost satirical — the solemn melodies coated your bare bones and rendered you silent, a strong juxtaposition to the warmth exuded from the closeness of your skin to his. neither of you did anything to interfere, save for an earlier comment from the man questioning your music taste.
(“then what do you listen to?”
“… radiohead.”
“wow. as if that’s any better than mitski.”)
tsukishima found himself smiling at your pride in your creation. messy, yes. but within each ingredient lay a remnant of him, and that was enough.
a stream of small talk emerged into you sitting on the couch together. the music dimmed down to white noise and an old romcom that had only two star ratings played on your TV, the poor quality adding to the humor. your legs leaned against his beneath the blanket. and there was peace.
tsukishima knew what it was. he knew what this would blossom into, and he could only hope and pray he didn’t mess it up in some way. your quiet yet crude commentary disappeared into the tender air, and he remained silent, as if absorbing each syllable that fell from your lips.
it was so quiet, and so vulnerable, and so delicate that he felt like he was going to explode.
he didn’t question it when your head fell onto his shoulder. he didn’t make fun of you when your colorful reviews on each scene turned into sleepy ramblings. and he didn’t say a word when you dozed off against him, your whole body against his.
instead, he looked around. he took note of the dust collecting on the cabinets, the water marks on the windows, the clothes and food and plastic scattered all over your living room, the dead plant on the shelf, and the half-empty pack of cigarettes sitting on the arm of the couch. it was all a far, far cry from the cleanliness and stability of his own home, and yet, he thought to himself, this is so like them. and he thought, i could live in here, if it were with them. and again, he thought, this could be a home.
tsukishima kei was of the belief that he did not have a type. but as he observed your house and reflected on its singular (?) inhabitant, he figured that this was his type. his type was your quiet laughs and your sharp remarks and your wrinkled clothes and the scent of cigarettes that always seemed to cling to you. his type was you.
he exchanged one last glance to your sleeping figure before getting up and leaving you to rest. not without wrapping up your lunch for tomorrow, and not without a small smile on his lips.
𝜗𝜚 。 ˚.
hell came to you on a thursday morning — the day following whatever had happened between you and tsukishima. you hadn’t put on your uniform just yet, and your belongings sat outside of your locker.
your boss scrambled into the office, his brows furrowed and his larger hands closing the door as quickly as he could without slamming it. the sweat that collected between his wrinkles shined beneath the dim lights. his breaths were haggard and rushed and shallow.
for the first time in a long time, you felt fear.
“there’s people who want to talk to you outside,” he whispered. “they want to talk to you now.”
there was no one else in the building. no one other than you, your boss, and the people who were so adamant on speaking to you.
so why was it so loud as soon as you stepped out?
the eyes of your mother came into your vision first. then, the stare of your father. and finally, their faces blended into one large picture that made sense.
“what the fuck are you doing here?”
withered hands slammed against the table. you watched the papers and the dinosaur trinkets rattle. “that’s no way to speak to your parents.” you could feel it — the air seeping out of your lungs, depriving you of breath; the trembling in your palms; the cloudiness in your peripherals. you could hear them, but you couldn’t hear them. at some point, their vocabulary was solely financial, and at another point, it grew cruel and violent, akin to wild dogs gnawing away at your skin. you didn’t know where it was going. the hastened footsteps of an unidentifiable coworker neared, and the shaky breaths of your boss behind the door grew louder and louder.
you needed to leave.
your feet led you away before your mind could. the yelling softened, until finally, the only sound was the chirp of birds and the whirring of cars.
𝜗𝜚 。 ˚.
tsukishima didn’t see you for a week. he didn’t hear any mention of your name, didn’t find your face in a crowd, didn’t feel the vibrations of your voice against his chest. you had disappeared, and no one told him why. it wasn’t until your name didn’t show up on the schedule that something clicked.
it was cruel. you were cruel, he decided.
tadashi sat on the couch while his roommate leaned against the counter. the hum of the air conditioning blinded the blonde’s senses.
“i don’t fucking know what i did,” tsukishima groaned into his palms for the twentieth time that night. “they just left. they quit and i can’t even contact them because i was stupid enough to not ask for their number or email or anything. i don’t- i don’t fucking know, ‘dashi, i don’t.”
“i’m sure they had some good reason,” his friend attempted. “i don’t think they’d do that if it weren’t within some sensible limit. it was fucked, yeah, but… i don’t know. i think they’ll come back when the time is right.”
it was tiring. it was tiring to be left alone not just once, but twice. and it was tiring to have it hurt so much more the second time.
tsukishima ran a hand through his hair. “it’s so stupid.” another groan spilled from his tongue. “i’m so fucking tired of this.”
𝜗𝜚 。 ˚.
this was just about the fourth job you had applied for.
the museum could no longer be a part of your routine — instead, it morphed into loud nights and bustling men and the clinking of glass; it emerged from quiet and gentle tours around dinosaur exhibits to noisy cheers and yelling and the more-than-occasional bottle thrown at your head; it turned into pure, devastating loneliness.
it was compact. it was suffocating. it was overwhelming. it was everything the museum was not. but you could not return there, no matter how much you ached for it.
you were avoiding him. avoiding everyone.
a gentle nudge from a blurred face reminded you that your shift was over for the night, coupled with an apology for the gash that formed on your head from another drunken man who had no outlet for his anger other than you. with heavy steps, you trudged back home, thankful for the week’s pay and the free food and drinks.
it was quiet.
the lights were off, and the LED numbers on the microwave read way past midnight. a dull pounding resided in your chest.
just the other day, it was so vibrant. you were alive, and so was he, and it was going well. but it was wrong. you realized that much when your parents came to remind you, and you realized it again as you quit the same day.
the thumping in your chest spread to your head, and your back met the wall with a force that was sure to upset your neighbors. carefully, daintily, you slid down, your body reaching the floor gently.
you missed him. but it was wrong.
that night, for the first time in a long while, you cried.
𝜗𝜚 。 ˚.
tucked away in a small alley in sendai resided an establishment with only three tables and a bar that was worn down from years of use. and behind it, tsukishima found you.
he was only out for a walk. at least, that was what it was until his feet brought him elsewhere and he stood face-to-face with the most suspicious of buildings. and when he saw you, it felt as if all the anger and guilt and distress that riddled his bones and flesh and blood withered away, as if it hadn’t coalesced within his veins over the past month.
before you could hide, his hand snaked around your wrist, his touch light yet desperate. “can we talk?”
talking entailed bringing him back to your apartment. and by extension, it included him witnessing your house somehow being worse than before.
tsukishima found himself sitting on the floor with his back to the couch, and you found yourself sprawled across said couch. he picked at the blisters on his fingers before quietly asking, “why did you do that?”
he could hear your nervous habits — the shifting, the fidgeting, the harsh lip biting. “i don’t know.”
“bullshit,” he muttered under his breath.
you turned over onto your side to face his back. “my parents found me,” you explained meekly. improper guidance leads to destructive tendencies. tsukishima kei, in his high school years, was deemed your only obstacle to complete succession — always a few points ahead, a few questions ahead, a few steps ahead — and your poor influence from youth only fueled such a fire. and so, you felt that it was reasonable to loathe him. your judgement was clouded beyond repair.
tsukishima listened. he listened to every detail, every portion of your retelling of each segment of your childhood, and your teen years, and your silly hatred for him. he listened to you talk about what you did after graduation — how you got into a good university but dropped out and hopped between a multitude of jobs (thus proving your claim at the work party to be a lie), and how you were constantly escaping from both the stress and your parents.
he listened so intently that it was overbearing. you didn’t tell him that. instead, you talked and talked and talked until you sculpted him into someone who knew your entire life, as if he were there from the beginning.
“i’m sorry,” you whispered through stubborn tears. you hated it — how exposing it was, how you had practically dumped everything onto him in one go, how you couldn’t help but beg for forgiveness in the end. most of all, you hated how easily he gave you his forgiveness.
𝜗𝜚 。 ˚.
tsukishima didn’t leave your house at all that week. you found no energy to complain.
in the morning, you’d find him cleaning whatever disaster you left behind, whether it was the pile of laundry on your bed or the collection of full trash bags next to the front door or the food (or rather, the lack thereof) in your fridge. he was silent all the while, and that hurt more than any berating he could have done.
“why are you still here?” you asked him one night. you had finally moved from the couch to the bed, and tsukishima couldn’t be any prouder. (any movement at all was enough to be proud of, he felt). “you shouldn’t want to be here.”
you watched him heave a heavy breath as his shoulders drooped. “because i want you,” he admitted, his voice unmistakably tender and soft and ridden with a youthfulness that he unearthed from deep within himself. “i want to be with you and i want you to be happy and i just want us to be happy together, for once.”
he spoke of his affections so fluently, as if he were born to share them with you. and still, every bone in your body was whispering otherwise.
even so, tsukishima promised that he would be willing to wait. even if it meant watching you down an unreasonable amount of beer at an unreasonable hour.
he promised to sit through it all with you, even if it meant listening to you call his name out in long, drawn-out tones. even if it meant hearing you confess your long-harbored affection for him. even if it meant hearing you say that you never told him, not even in high school, because you felt like you didn’t deserve to tell him.
tsukishima didn’t understand.
he failed to comprehend how you didn’t feel deserving, when his whole body, mind, and soul was bound to you; when, in the depths of the night, he’d burn pink in the night at the mere thought of you; when he was so uncharacteristically smitten for you. he didn’t get it. he didn’t think he ever would.
not that he said anything about it — at least, not in that moment. not when you were inexplicably drunk, to the point where you couldn’t move a limb without tumbling over.
but, without a doubt, he went to bed with a stupid grin and a berry-kissed face.
𝜗𝜚 。 ˚.
it took another couple of weeks before tsukishima would see you at work again. you entered through the doors as if you never left, and he wasn’t sure if he was supposed to be excited or neutral or anything else, because his guts only knew tenderness with you at that point — all the fake ignorance and stubbornness and denial had been cast aside.
you basked in a shared silence in the locker room, until you finally admitted that you were, in fact, healing. to some degree, at least. you asked him to come over again under the pretense of seeing how clean your house was. you detailed every segment of your life, from when he last saw you to your entrance into the museum, including how you made yourself breakfast for the first time in forever and how you drank a cup of water almost every day. and he was so overwhelmingly proud, so much so that it spilled over and he couldn’t contain himself.
“i love you,” he blurted out, his rushed admission cutting off your rambling. you whipped your head towards him, but he was looking everywhere except for you.
“what?” you exclaimed.
“i said i love you. i’m in love with you. what don’t you get?”
your jaw hung open, just like that of a fish. “wait- what the fuck?” much to his amusement, you jumped up and began pacing around the room. “i like- well, i guess, love,” you paused, the vocabulary uncomfortable on your teeth. “you too, but like- what the fuck? who told you that?”
“you did.”
“what?”
tsukishima kei was laughing. he was laughing at you, and yet, you weren’t as angry as you expected to be. he was laughing, and all you could do was relish in the noise.
“so,” he hummed delightfully, an amused smirk on his lips. “am i still coming over?”
you (begrudgingly) agreed. again, he laughed — this time, at the heat rising to your face.
𝜗𝜚 。 ˚.
through the cracks between your blinds, silk strands of sunlight crawled through, a soft reminder of the morning. beside you, a mountain of warmth lay, with his glasses still on his face and his hoodie misshapen on his body.
tsukishima was always the first to rise. he would wait for your eyes to flit open gently before getting up and making breakfast, despite your protests that your food was probably better than his. he never listened.
the splatter of coffee into your cup served as the only noise in the room, save for the dull noise of the morning news on the TV and the cars passing by outside the window. you watched intently as the blonde set up the table, his lip drawn in a tight line but his eyes shimmering with contentment. “eat up,” he spoke quietly as he took a seat in front of you.
tsukishima kei was, by no means, a cruel person. he was just a little rough on the edges and occasionally didn’t quite know how to say things without being mean. but as he sat with you, eating breakfast made by him in your shared apartment; as he pressed a fleeting kiss to your forehead before leaving to change, ignoring your groans about the remnants of syrup on his lips; as he drove you to work as the sun settled in the sky; you realized he was simply a man in love.
#haikyuu#tsukishima haikyuu#haikyuu fanfiction#haikyuu fanfic#haikyuu!! fanfics#haikyuu!!#haikyuu x reader#haikyuu angst#haikyuu fluff#haikyuu smut#tsukishima#tsukishima kei#kei tsukishima#tsukishima x reader#tsukishima hcs#tsukishima angst#tsukishima fluff#tsukishima smut#haikyuu tsukishima#hq tsukishima#tsukishima x y/n
1K notes
·
View notes
Text
― test drive ⭑.ᐟ
― the ways in which they drive you (crazy) ⋆⭒˚.⋆
contents: gojo x gn!reader, geto x gn!reader, nanami x gn!reader, choso x gn!reader, toji x gn!reader, megumi x gn!reader, yuuta x gn!reader, yuji x gn!reader, the term passenger princess is used but is not gender specific, nicknames (baby, darling, my dear, love, doll), kissing, fluff, slight crack for some, jjk men and their driving habits (stay safe on the road guys jhdshdj) a/n: title is based on test drive by ariana grande and i wrote this to celebrate me getting my driver's license so yipeeee !!! this is much longer than i was expecting it to be (especially for a headcannon/drabble) so sorry for the delay on my behalf, as always, reblogs, comments and likes are always appreciate and much love from me to you all <33
gojo satoru fights with you over who gets to be passenger princess loves to take you out for spontaneous drives whenever and wherever that you begin to question if this might be a secret addiction or guilty pleasure of his.
(his real secret addiction is just you but it doesn't take a detective to figure that out)
"hop in!" he shouts as he arrives at your front door in a shiny white convertible. it seems that he's decided to whip out an old classic of his, though you can't deny that he keeps you on your toes whenever he pulls up in a new or different ride seemingly every time he picks you up.
you wonder to yourself what he does with all his other cars in that massive collection of his.
"we're going on a trip to the beach you've been telling me about for weeks and plus, i already booked a hotel suite for us." he announces eagerly and though his eyes are currently covered by a pair of black sunglasses, you know that they're practically glimmering with palpable excitement. he opens his hand towards you as his way of beckoning you to come along with him.
you take his hand and he pulls you towards his side to the point where you're almost resting atop his door before he presses his lips against your intertwined hands in a lingering kiss.
"toru, is this a cry for help? are you on the run from something?" you joke, a look of mild amusement on your features, and he rolls his eyes light-heartedly at you.
"please, baby?" he slides up his sunglasses so that they're perched up on his snowy white locks and looks up at you with those big puppy-dog eyes that you know you could never ever say no to no matter how ridiculous the request was.
you silently think over his proposition for a moment.
looking up to the sky, you notice that today is a particularly sunny day and despite the sun being smack dab in the middle of the sky, it also wasn't boiling hot on account of the light breeze which made this a special type of sunny day that was a once in while occurrence for summertime. to be fair, it had also been a while since you and satoru went out anywhere together on account of your clashing schedules so it wasn't necessarily the worst thing to be spending some time off with him.
(you also wouldn't mind the sight of him shirtless on the beach but that was a different conversation to be had)
you look back at him and after careful consideration on your behalf, decide to indulge in this whim of his.
"okay, fine but did you-"
"yep, i already made all the arrangements so it's all cleared up for the two of us." he cuts you off smoothly with a cheeky wink.
"i don't want you stressing about anything in that head of yours, alright?" as if to punctuate his point, satoru lightly taps on your forehead which earns him a small smile and a soft shove to the shoulder from you.
you quickly head in to grab some stuff from your place before returning outside and jumping into the passenger seat. he leaps out of his seat and over the hood of the car to open the door for you before you can even reach for the handle and you sink in comfortably into the expanses of the plush leather seat beneath you.
"you better make this worth it, mister." you remark playfully at him. he returns the smile on your face with one of his own as he leans over to place a deep kiss against your lips, taking his time to savour the taste of you on his tongue.
"trust me, baby. i'll make it worth your while."
geto suguru always makes you his designated passenger princess when driving. no matter what vehicle it is, be it a car, motorcycle, or even a bicycle (you're still not sure how he managed to do that), suguru has seemingly decided that the title of passenger princess belongs to you and only you.
he takes this so seriously that he even goes so far as to specifically reserve the front seat for you in any vehicle he's driving in and makes sure that you're the only one who can sit there. just ask satoru, who unfortunately had to learn that the hard way when he tried to call shotgun one time on a road trip and was chased off by suguru who went to the extent of blocking the door to the front seat until you arrived which he graciously opened the door for you whilst also sending satoru a warning stare.
now, this isn't because he doesn't trust your skills, he does wholeheartedly and would gladly put his life in your hands. it's just that he thinks that you deserve to relax and that you deserve the princess treatment at all times (his words, not yours).
of course, if you do want to drive, he'll let you but he always insists on helping you out in any way that he can even if it is the smallest things like clipping on your seatbelt for you before surprising you with a fleeting kiss against your cheeks, though the sensation is gone before you know it and you're left wondering if it really just happened.
he always does it in a way that's so subtle that by the time you notice, it's already too late and he just smiles at you with an oh-so-innocent look on his face that makes it impossible to even accuse him of any wrongdoing, although this wasn't really a wrongdoing in most senses of the word per se.
though, it seems that this time, you're able to catch him red-handed in the act.
as the car pulls into the parking spot, you make a move to reach for the handle to open the door on your side when suddenly, it seems that someone has apparently beaten you to the punch.
you pause for a moment as your brain attempts to catch up with what has apparently just transpired.
"sugu, wasn't my hand on there?" you ask, quickly flicking your eyes back and forth from where you were sure where your hand used to be and where suguru's hand was now residing.
"hmm?" he raises a curious eyebrow in your direction, as if completely oblivious to his own actions. "oh, i'm not sure what you're talking about, darling." he remarks, brushing off your concern in a nonchalant manner as he leans over to unbuckle your seatbelt for you.
"suguru." you chide, there's a warning edge to your words as you cross your arms at him. thinking about it now, you're definitely sure that it was suguru who moved your hand out of the way just so he could open it for you.
it's not that you were necessarily mad about him doing this, quite the opposite in fact as you can't deny the way he makes your heart flutter whenever he goes out of his way to treat you like royalty, but rather, you're more interested in finally being able to get a confession from the ever elusive geto suguru.
he stops for a second, as if to weigh up the options in his mind, before a small sigh escapes his lips as he reaches over to gently caress your cheek. "i'm just saying that why do you need to do something so small when i'm here to do it for you."
maybe it's the way you seemingly become putty in his hands or the velvety cadence of his voice that you're pretty sure could convince people to walk into a wall without them even realising or perhaps it's just him, but you find yourself hard-pressed to try and come up with any sort of rebuttal on your end so you settle for a silently 'humph' of defeat.
a soft chuckle escapes him at your response. he presses his lips against your temple before tilting his head ever so slightly sideways so he can get a better look at you. "if you really don't like it, i'll stop. but, if you don't mind, then just let me treat you, alright darling?"
nanami kento might just be the best (and most distracting) driving teacher you could ever ask for.
it wasn't that you didn't know how to drive, you did, but rather, you wanted to get better at it because you always felt a slight pang of guilt whenever you noticed how he would occasionally try to fight off a small yawn when you're in the car with him. you know how much his job drains him already so you're honestly just worried that he might be overexerting himself when he should be trying to take the time to catch up on some much-needed rest instead.
when you originally approached him with this idea, he tried to reassure you that there was nothing to worry about and that he was fine.
"really, my dear, it's no trouble. you know i enjoy driving you around." he insists, an arm curling up around your figure as you nestle into his embrace one friday evening on your living room couch.
"that's not the point, kento." you pout slightly as you gaze up at him from your position. you gently run your finger underneath his eyes as you take in just how dark his eyebags appear to be. "just think of it as me wanting to help lighten some of your burdens when you're tired, that's all."
he rests his chin upon the crown of your head, silently mulling over your request for a moment in his head before agreeing. "alright then, but don't think i'll go easy on you, dear."
you giggle softly at his answer, brushing off his words as a joke before you lean in for a kiss.
you should have really paid attention then.
true to his words, it seems that kento was really making true to his promise as you have never met someone this meticulous and so dedicated to all the small details when it came to driving in general. hell, this might even be more difficult than when you first took your driving lessons to get your license.
it also doesn't really help that he might be one of the most distracting teachers you've ever had as well as you've never had to fight this hard to focus until now when he's reaching over to smoothen out any wrinkles that might have appeared on your clothes because of your seat belt and brushing his hands against yours when you reach for the gear shift.
"you have to pay attention, my dear." he reminds you as he delicately tilts your face so that you're facing forward at the road instead of stealing glances at him. "eyes on the road, not me."
a shaky breath leaves your lips as you try to concentrate on driving, just like he says, but you're beginning to wonder if this is a test of your strength as a person instead when his large hands envelop yours as he helps readjust your hands to the correct position on the steering wheel.
at least when you do something well, you're rewarded with a kiss from him so he definitely understands how to incentivise you even more which is a strong strategy in your books that has no complaints.
when you decide to surprise him one day by picking him up from work, the look on his face is absolutely priceless when you roll down the window and he realises that it's you. once inside the car, he laces his fingers with yours as he brings your hand up to his lip for a soft kiss.
"you've passed with flying colours." he congratulates you, a smile playing on his lips as he gazes at you with utter adoration in his eyes.
although, there will forever be a part of you that misses being able to experience teacher nanami kento. maybe you can convince him to teach you something else.
kamo choso needs to have his hand on you at all times and this extends to driving as well.
it was like a mental checklist that he would run through every time the two of you got into the car, no matter who was driving. doors locked? check. nothing blocking the car? check. all mirrors are angled correctly? check. his hand on you? he gives your hand a cursory glance and quickly intertwines his fingers with yours before he squeezes it softly, soaking in the feeling of your hand enveloped in his. a satisfied hum leaves his lips as he checks off another box in his head.
if it was up to him, you two would just stay home all the time so he could remain glued to you forever but unfortunately for him, it seems that the world doesn't agree with his fantasies.
you never really questioned this habit of his, rather just writing it off as another one of his adorable quirks that you were privy to as his significant other, much like how he likes to trail behind you like a lost puppy whenever you walk anywhere together or how he insists that you should wear his hoodies since they're much better at helping you stay warm even though you both bought hoodies at the same store. small things, like that you know?
however, one day, it seems that your curiosity has seemingly gotten the best of you as you decide to pull off a harmless prank on him to just see what would happen if there were to be a snag in this routine of his.
when the two of you get into the car that day, choso runs through his usual checklist before starting the car and when he gets to the specific step involving you, you evade his attempts to hold your hand. the moment his hand is met with the cold emptiness of air instead of the warmth of yours, he freezes up for a second as his mind tries to comprehend what just happened.
"did i do something?" there's an immediate switch in his demeanour as he almost visibly shrinks and shrivels up in his seat like a cartoon flower that has been deprived of water and sunlight. his voice is delicately soft, as if scared to break this newfound silence between the two of you with one wrong move on his behalf, with a small pout on his lips that reminds you of a kicked puppy.
with one look at his face, you can feel your resolve start to waver and you're extremely tempted to throw your little prank out of the window to go and comfort him and reassure him that he's done nothing wrong but you steel yourself in an attempt to hold your ground.
"you didn't do anything, cho." you reply plainly, trying to keep your voice as relaxed as possible to avoid giving anything away.
you're pretty sure his pout gets even poutier, which you weren't sure could even possibly happen, at your response as he asks again in a thinly veiled plea. "then why won't you let me hold your hand when i drive?"
"well, why do you want to do it in the first place."
"because it's my good luck charm." without even missing a beat, he replies in a tone so matter of fact, you can hardly find any good reason to protest.
"that's all?" you probe, curiosity eagerly egging you on.
"well, i also like being reminded that you're right to me."
"you could just look at me, cho." you giggle softly. he shakes his head at you.
"yeah, but it's not the same as holding you. i like feeling you in my hands. so, can i have your permission to hold your hand?" he reaches his hand out towards you earnestly as he anxiously awaits your response.
you lean over to give him a quick peck on the lips before breaking into a small smile, seemingly satisfied with his heartfelt words, as you take the initiative to entwine your fingers with his. this earns you a soft grin and blush from choso who eagerly peppers your face with kisses with barely-contained joy and relief from being able to hold you again.
after this, you sometimes decide to surprise choso by making the first move to reach for him instead of vice versa and his heart always skips a beat as he tries and fails to fight off a smile whenever you do.
fushiguro toji scares you slightly with the way that he drives. hear me out, that's not to say that he isn't good, he's a great driver truth be told (but you would never say that to his face because you could just imagine the smirk on his face if you did), but he does
to be fair, toji is far from being a novice driver so it makes sense that he's comfortable enough in his abilities to be able to pull off such risky manoeuvres in your eyes but you can't help how your heart skips a beat or two when he starts pulling moves straight from movies like fast & furious.
whenever you lightly chide him for making such moves like how he effortlessly weaves his way around tight corners and such, he always brushes off your concerns with ease.
"doll, do you think that i'd ever risk doing anything stupid when i have precious cargo in here hmm?" he quips back at you with a raised eyebrow and one corner of his lips slightly upturned in that classic crooked smirk of his that makes your heart flutter in more ways than one.
you think for a second about how you want to wipe off that grin with a kiss, to give him a taste of his own teasing, but then you're reminded that you don't wanna give him this victory so you turn off to the side with a small huff leaving your lips. he chuckles to himself under his breath at your antics before leaning over to your side of the car.
"no comment, doll?" he teases. you don't take the bait but you can feel your cheeks rising with heat with how close he is to you to the point you can feel his breath against your neck.
after seeing that you're not budging, toji leans back into his seat though not before intertwining his fingers with yours and bringing the back of your hand to his lips for a quick kiss. he lets go of your hand shortly after and reassuringly squeezes your thigh with his calloused hand.
"have some more faith in me, would 'ya?" he hums and you expect him to let go of you when he starts to drive again, but he doesn't and his grip on you remains there for the entire ride and the next ride after and so forth to the point where it becomes an unspoken habit for him to do so.
he does take a bit more caution when driving now, which he can tell is much to your relief when he notices that you seemingly have much more free time to try and tease him when he's driving for your own amusement.
but after all, old habits die hard and sometimes, they slip through every now and then like when he suddenly pulls off a rapid turn but this time, you can't deny the adrenaline rush that comes along with it.
fushiguro megumi has the most infuriating driving habits in the way that they're also the most attractive driving habits you've ever seen someone have.
you might be biased on account that he's your boyfriend but put anyone in your shoes and in that close proximity to him when he leans over the console to check your seatbelt for you and brushes against you or how he never fails to catch your eyes when adjusting the rear-view mirror and you're sure that they would have the same reaction as you which would be a blushing mess.
ironically, he also drives you up a wall with how oblivious he's acting to the effect it has on you. it has to be an act right? you think to yourself. there's no way that he can be so oblivious to the fact that whenever he looks at you, your face is always flushed red and you're sure that he can't truthfully buy your weak attempts at brushing off his concerns as you stutter an excuse out.
probably one of his worst offences in your book was when he would roll up his sleeve before putting his arm behind your seat to get a better view while reversing. you couldn't even try to logically come up with an explanation for why he does this since no way having his sleeves rolled up affects his ability to do this in any way, shape or form. plus, his car has a rearview camera on the dash monitor so he doesn't even need to look back like this!
well, there's a part of you that knows that you shouldn't probably complain that much since it gives you a good excuse to stare unabashedly at the way his lean muscles flex slightly with each move he makes. but still, the point remains that you have to try and pretend like you're perfectly fine despite
this has to be some form of torture right? you think to yourself, being able to only stare and not do anything else because he's busy driving and you don't want to distract him but yet you're being constantly subjected to stuff like this. you try and fight the growing red blush that seeks to consume your face as you continue to test the limits of your own resolve.
it seems that you're far too lost in your own head and have completely zoned out when suddenly, a voice interrupts your train of thought. "are you looking at my arms?"
at megumi's question, you're instantly brought back into reality as you realise that you had zoned out whilst blatantly staring at his exposed arms and therefore was just caught red handed in the act of shamelessly ogling.
you can feel a strong sense of embarrassment starting to set in as your mind runs through hundreds of different possible responses to his question that range from outright denial to a full-on detailed rant on the way some of his driving habits make you feel before you finally decide to settle on a simple "yes."
a beat of silence passes between the two of you before megumi awkwardly attempts to clear his throat as he brings a hand up to run through his hair.
"o-oh, okay." he stutters out as he tries to turn his attention back to the wheel.
neither of you speak any more on the topic for the rest of the journey though, there seems to be a shift in megumi as he seemingly becomes much more observant towards the apparent effect he has on you when he drives and although you can't confirm it, it also seems that now his actions are much more intentional instead of accidental as he'll purposefully linger on you now rather as if to draw out your reaction rather than pull away normally like before.
you're also sure that there's a ghost of smile on his lips when you do get flustered because of him.
however, he can't hide the fact that the tips of his ears burn bright red whenever he catches you staring now.
okkotsu yuuta loves to shower you with all the love and attention he can offer you at all times. if this was a job, he would be the employee of the month every single month and he would never fail to clock in for his shift. it's not his fault if he gets so distracted by this that he forgets that he also has to do other things as well.
this is probably also why yuuta isn't a very good multitasker when you're next to him.
as much as you love it and him, you had to strike a compromise with him that he could hold it in until you were at a red light in order to make sure that one, his attention would stay on the road and not you, and two, you two would stop getting honked at or angrily stared at by the other drivers on the road who were unfortunate enough to be in the same lane.
whenever the light does turn green and he has to return his attention back to driving, he always pulls away with the most regretful look on his face and you can't help but picture him as a little sad puppy whenever he looks at you with those large, seemingly bottomless eyes that threaten to pull you in whenever you stare at them too long.
you're currently stopped at a red light, a surprisingly long one at that, and it seems that yuuta is fully taking advantage of this opportunity by reaching over the console and capturing your lips in his with such vigour you might think he's been deprived of your touch for the last century (not that you're complaining, of course)
you hear the beeping of the traffic light coming in from your right side, informing you that the light is going to change soon and you break apart for a breath of air to quickly inform him. "yuu, the light's gonna turn green soon."
"just a few more seconds, love." he murmurs against your lips. he has his fingers hooked around your chin as if to hold you in place so he can savour the taste of your just a bit longer. it's clear that he has no intentions to pull away with how his other hand is slowly snaking its way around your waist.
"yuu," you huff out as your eyes flick to the rear window, taking stock of the seemingly endless line of cars waiting behind yours. "i'm pretty sure the car behind us is honking at us to go."
almost as if right on cue, there's the loud screech of a car horn from behind you which goes on for what is probably longer than necessary but yuuta gets the message as he quickly scrambles back into his seat with a small yelp of surprise escaping from his lips and the car jumps back to life as he presses down on the accelerator.
he offers you a sheepish look and you roll your eyes light-heartedly before leaning over to his side to place a chaste kiss against his cheek. the tips of his ears burn bright red the moment your lips grace his skin and he almost visibly deflates when the sensation proves to be a fleeting one.
you can almost see the cogs turning in his mind as he scans the road ahead for any traffic lights or intersections and you know that he's already hoping that they turn red as soon as he gets closer to them. he squeezes your hand twice before returning to the steering wheel and you can't help but smile to yourself at him.
at least you have something to look forward to at red lights now.
itadori yuji makes it his personal job to make every drive with him the most fun drive you could ever have.
originally, it started out with him trying to find a way to make driving more enjoyable for you when you were practising for your driver's test since he knew how much it stressed you out and it hurt his heart to see you so panicked.
if it was up to him, he wouldn't mind being your personal driver 24/7 but he also knew that this was a really big milestone for you and you were insistent on learning this life skill and so it became his life mission to make driving enjoyable for you in any way, shape or form that he can.
of course, with any new thing, there was a slight learning curve for yuji, especially since he was going from what he was used to with his role as the driver to a passenger, but soon enough he became an expert in this to the point where it was almost like he was a mind reader with how well he could anticipate your wants and needs.
carpool karaoke? he's already got a playlist loaded up with all your favourite hits on there. feeling peckish? yuji has a stash of snacks that he knows you love ready in the trunk and is always willing to hop out at a local gas station and go on a late-night shopping spree with you. a bit tired? he's got a pillow and blanket with your name on it in the back seat and he's ready to take over from you at any second.
even when you're not driving, he still tries his best to take care of you whilst also paying attention to the road and although sometimes the balance is a bit more towards you, you don't mind jumping in to help a bit here and there.
when you do try and thank him for his efforts, he always brushes it off with ease as he insists that he's only fulfilling his duties as your boyfriend and that he doesn't need any thanks for doing something as simple as this.
whatever you need, yuji's prepared and ready to help you out in any way that he can and all he could ever ask for in return is to see that smile that he loves so much on your face.
after each drive with him, you always remember to pepper his face with kisses before leaning in for a peck against his lips, which inevitably turns into something much longer as he chases after the fleeting feeling of your lips on his, as your own way of thanking him.
#dividers by cafekitsune#jjk x reader#jujutsu kaisen x reader#jjk drabbles#jjk x you#jujutsu kaisen drabbles#jujutsu kaisen x you#jjk headcanons#jjk fluff#jujutsu kaisen headcanons#gojo x reader#gojo x you#satoru gojo x reader#satoru gojo x you#geto x you#geto x reader#suguru geto x reader#suguru geto x you#nanami x you#nanami x reader#kento nanami x reader#kento nanami x you#toji x you#toji x reader#fushiguro toji x reader#fushiguro toji x you#choso x reader#choso x you#choso kamo x reader#megumi x reader
585 notes
·
View notes