#the 'it's a cross' amused me too much not to gif it

[moonlightwritingf1]

The Sweet Surprise | LN4

⋆˚✿˖° summary ━━━━━━━ Lando finds Y/N's sex toy

⋆˚✿˖° pairing ━━━━━━━ Lando Norris x she!reader

⋆˚✿˖° word count ━━━━━━━ 2.7k

⋆˚✿˖° warnings ━━━━━━━ +18, sexual content

Based on this request.

It was a quiet Friday evening in London, the sky painted with hues of pink and orange as the sun began to set. Inside her apartment, Y/N was still at work, wrapped up in her typical 9-to-5 routine. The familiar hum of her laptop screen and the rustle of papers were the only sounds filling the space. But there was something different in the air today, something she couldn’t quite place. Perhaps it was the way the evening light seemed to make the room feel a little warmer, or maybe it was the anticipation of the surprise she knew was coming.

Lando had always been a bit unpredictable when it came to their time together. After weeks of gentle teasing and persistent gifts, she had finally agreed to go on a date with him—six dates, to be precise. Each one had brought them closer, the chemistry undeniable, the tension palpable. Yet, Y/N couldn’t shake the nagging feeling that he was just playing with her. She wasn’t sure whether he was serious about her or simply enjoying the chase. And as much as she tried to convince herself that she wasn’t falling for him, she couldn’t ignore the fluttering in her stomach whenever she saw him.

Tonight, she had no idea what to expect. All she knew was that Lando was coming over, and he had promised her a surprise.

A knock at the door interrupted her thoughts.

She opened the door to find Lando standing there, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. In his hands was a box, carefully wrapped with a ribbon. “I hope I didn’t keep you waiting too long,” he said, his voice low, yet teasing. “I brought you something.”

Y/N raised an eyebrow, feeling a sudden wave of curiosity. “What’s this?”

Lando grinned mischievously. “You’ll see. Open it.”

Inside the box was a cake—no ordinary cake, but the one from her favorite bakery. The one she had mentioned in passing months ago, how she rarely got the chance to have it because it was always sold out. Lando had somehow managed to secure a special order, paying extra for the bakery to make it just for her.

“You actually got it?” she asked, her voice filled with surprise. “How did you even—”

“I have my ways,” he said with a wink. “But you deserve something special. I figured this would be the perfect treat.”

Her heart warmed at the gesture. She hadn’t expected something so thoughtful. “You really went all out.”

“I would do anything for you,” he said softly, his eyes locking with hers. “I hope you like it.”

They sat down together, savoring the rich layers of the cake, the sweetness of the moment matching the sweetness of the dessert. The conversation flowed easily, the two of them slipping into a comfortable rhythm. The tension between them was undeniable, but they both danced around it—teasing, flirting, but never crossing the line.

After they finished their cake, Y/N stood up to put the remaining slices in the fridge. As she did, Lando leaned back in his chair, watching her with that familiar glint in his eyes.

“So,” Lando said casually, leaning against the kitchen counter as he watched her put away the leftover cake. His tone was smooth, almost too casual. “Do you have the book you promised me?”

Y/N glanced over her shoulder, momentarily confused. “Book?”

“Yes, the one you said I absolutely have to read,” he replied, smirking. “You said it’s in your room.''

“Oh!” Y/N’s eyes widened as realization struck. “Right. That book.”

He chuckled softly, amused by how easily distracted she was. “Where is it?”

“It’s on my nightstand,” she said, closing the fridge door. “You can grab it. I think it’s on top of the stack.”

“Sure,” Lando said, pushing off the counter and heading toward her bedroom.

Y/N didn’t think twice about it. Why would she? The book was exactly where she said it was, and her room was relatively tidy—at least, she thought it was. She turned back to the counter, wiping it down absentmindedly as her mind wandered to the cake he had surprised her with.

Meanwhile, Lando stepped into her room, his gaze immediately falling on the nightstand. The book was there, just as she’d said, but his attention didn’t stay on it for long.

Because there, on the bed, lying in plain sight, was something far more attention-grabbing: her dildo.

He blinked, taken aback for a second, before a slow, mischievous grin spread across his face. Of all the things he’d expected to find, this was certainly not one of them.

“Did you find it?” Y/n called out from the kitchen, her voice carrying a casual tone as she slid the remaining slice of cake into the fridge. The sweet aroma of vanilla and buttercream lingered in the air, mingling with the faint scent of Lando’s cologne that seemed to follow him everywhere.

Silence.

“Lando?” she tried again, this time tilting her head toward the hallway leading to her bedroom. Her heart began to thud softly in her chest, a nervous flutter she couldn’t quite explain. She wiped her hands on a dish towel and stepped into the hallway, her bare feet padding softly against the hardwood floor.

When she reached her bedroom door, she froze.

Lando was standing by her bed, his back to her, shoulders tense. His gaze was fixed on something on the mattress, something Y/n had completely forgotten about until now. Her dildo.

Oh God. Her stomach dropped. Heat rushed to her cheeks, spreading down her neck and across her chest. How could I forget? Earlier that day, after a particularly steamy session in the shower, she’d left it there, too lost in her own thoughts to remember to put it away.

“Uh…” she started, her voice barely audible. “I can explain…”

Lando turned slowly, his blue/ green eyes darkening as they met hers. A smirk tugged at the corner of his lips, but it wasn’t mocking—it was hungry. “Explain what?” he said, his voice low and smooth, like honey dripping off a spoon. “That you like to keep things… handy?”

Y/n crossed her arms over her chest, trying to will away the embarrassment. “It’s not what you think,” she muttered, though even she knew how weak that sounded.

Lando took a step closer, his fingers brushing against the edge of the bed. “Oh, I think it’s exactly what I think,” he said, his tone teasing yet laced with something deeper. Something raw. He picked up the toy, turning it over in his hands as if inspecting it. “Impressive size,” he added, his smirk widening. “Guess you don’t settle for less, huh?”

She groaned, burying her face in her hands. “Could you not?”

He chuckled, the sound sending a shiver down her spine. “Why? Embarrassed?” He closed the distance between them, stopping just inches from her. His free hand reached out, gently tugging one of hers away from her face. “You shouldn’t be.”

His touch was warm, his thumb brushing over her knuckles in a way that made her breath catch. She looked up at him, her eyes wide, searching his for any hint of judgment. But all she found was… desire.

“Lando…” she whispered, her voice trembling.

He leaned in, his lips hovering just above hers. “Do you really think I care about that?” he murmured, his breath hot against her skin. “If anything, it just makes me wonder… What else are you hiding behind that tough-girl act of yours?”

She swallowed hard, her mind racing. This was dangerous. Too dangerous. She’d spent months keeping him at arm’s length, convincing herself he wasn’t serious, that he didn’t see her the way she secretly hoped he did. But now, with him so close, with his words unraveling her defenses, she wasn’t sure she could hold back anymore.

“I’m not hiding anything,” she lied, her voice barely above a whisper.

Lando tilted his head, his eyes narrowing slightly. “Bullshit,” he said bluntly, his tone firm yet gentle. “You’re always hiding, Y/n. Behind your sarcasm, your independence, your I-don’t-need-anyone attitude. But I see you. I always have.”

Her breath hitched. No one had ever talked to her like this, stripped her bare with just a few words. It terrified her. And yet…

Before she could stop herself, she blurted out, “And what if you don’t like what you see?”

He paused, his expression softening. Slowly, he set the toy down on the nightstand and cupped her face in his hands. His touch was so tender, so genuine, it nearly brought tears to her eyes. “I already do,” he said, his voice steady. “Every single part of you.”

The room felt impossibly small, the air thick with tension. Y/n’s heart pounded in her chest as she searched his face, looking for any sign of deceit. But there was none. Just honesty. And something else… something that made her knees weak.

“Lando…” she breathed, her resolve crumbling.

He didn’t wait for her to finish. His lips crashed onto hers, the kiss fierce and hungry, as if he’d been holding back for far too long. Y/n gasped into his mouth, her hands instinctively clutching the front of his shirt. He deepened the kiss, his tongue sliding against hers, and she melted into him, every thought, every doubt, vanishing in an instant.

When they finally broke apart, both of them breathing heavily, Lando rested his forehead against hers. “Stop running from me,” he whispered, his voice rough with emotion. “Let me in.”

Her eyes fluttered shut, her body trembling with the weight of his words. She wanted to. God, she wanted to. But fear still lingered, clawing at the edges of her mind.

“What if I’m not enough for you?” she asked, her voice breaking.

He pulled back slightly, his hands still cradling her face. “You already are,” he said firmly. “You always have been.”

She searched his eyes, finding nothing but sincerity. For the first time in months, maybe even years, she let herself believe it.

“Okay,” she whispered.

His lips curved into a soft smile, and he kissed her again, this time slower, more tender. Their bodies pressed together, heat building between them, until neither of them could think straight.

“Bed,” Lando murmured against her lips, his voice husky.

She nodded, her heart racing as he guided her backward, their movements clumsy yet frantic. When the back of her knees hit the mattress, she fell onto it, pulling him down with her. He hovered above her, his eyes burning with desire as he brushed a strand of hair from her face.

“Tell me to stop,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper.

She shook her head, her hands gripping the collar of his shirt. “Don’t you dare.”

Lando’s lips trailed down her neck, leaving a searing path of heat as his fingers gently traced the curve of her waist. Y/n’s breath hitched, her mind still reeling from the intensity of their kiss. She could feel the weight of him above her, the warmth of his body pressing into hers, and it sent a shiver down her spine.

His hand slid lower, brushing against her thigh, and she instinctively parted her legs, inviting him closer. But instead of continuing where she expected, Lando pulled back slightly, his eyes dark with mischief as he glanced toward the bed. Her cheeks flushed when she realized what—or rather, who—he was looking at.

The dildo. Still lying there, shamelessly exposed.

“So…” Lando drawled, his voice low and teasing. “Is this how you spend your Friday nights?”

Y/n groaned, covering her face with her hands. “Oh my God, can we just forget about that?”

He chuckled, leaning down to press a gentle kiss to her forehead. “Why would I want to forget?” His fingers brushed over her wrist, prying her hands away from her face so he could look into her eyes. “I think it’s hot.”

Her heart raced at his words, and she bit her lip, unsure how to respond. Hot? The idea of him finding something like that attractive made her stomach flip in the most delicious way. But before she could say anything, Lando reached for the toy, holding it up between them with a smirk.

“You know,” he said, his tone dripping with playful confidence, “I could give you a much better experience than this.”

Y/n’s breath caught in her throat, her eyes widening as she processed his words. “W-what are you saying?”

Instead of answering, he leaned down, his lips brushing against her ear as he whispered, “Let me show you.”

A wave of heat surged through her, pooling at her core. She couldn’t think, couldn’t speak, all she could do was nod weakly as Lando moved down her body, his hands trailing along her skin. He pushed her dress higher, exposing her thighs, and she tensed slightly, her nerves getting the better of her.

“Relax,” he murmured, his voice soothing despite the wicked grin on his face. “Just let me take care of you.”

She swallowed hard, her pulse pounding in her ears as she watched him position himself between her legs. His gaze locked with hers, and he held up the dildo, his expression daring her to stop him. With deliberate precision, he slid her panties to the side, exposing her to him fully. But she didn’t stop him. She couldn’t. The anticipation was too intense, the desire too overwhelming.

When the cool silicone touched her bare skin, she gasped, her hips arching instinctively. Lando’s free hand pressed against her hip, holding her steady as he teased her with the toy, tracing slow, deliberate circles around her most sensitive spot.

“You like that?” he asked, his voice rough with need.

All she could manage was a whimper, her hands gripping the sheets beneath her. The sensation was maddening, every touch sending jolts of pleasure through her body. And then, just as she thought she couldn’t take anymore, he pressed the tip of the dildo against her entrance, slowly pushing it inside.

Her back arched off the bed, a moan escaping her lips as she felt herself stretching to accommodate it. Lando’s eyes never left her face, watching intently as he began to move it in and out, setting a slow, teasing rhythm.

“Fuck,” she breathed, her head falling back against the pillow. It was unlike anything she’d ever felt before—the coldness of the toy contrasting with the heat of his touch, the way he seemed to know exactly how to move to drive her wild.

“You’re so beautiful like this,” Lando murmured, his voice thick with admiration. “Completely undone.”

She opened her eyes, locking gazes with him, and saw the raw desire in his expression. It sent a thrill through her, knowing that she was the one who had put that look on his face. Without thinking, she reached for him, her fingers tangling in his hair as she pulled him down for a bruising kiss.

Their lips clashed together, messy and desperate, as he continued to work the dildo inside her. The dual sensations were almost too much—the deep, filling pressure of the toy combined with the soft, insistent movements of Lando’s tongue against hers.

“More,” she begged against his mouth, her voice trembling with need.

He obliged without hesitation, increasing the speed and intensity of his thrusts until she was writhing beneath him, her nails digging into his shoulders. Every nerve in her body was alight, every inch of her skin on fire. She could feel the tension building, coiling tighter and tighter until it threatened to snap.

“Lando,” she gasped, her voice breaking. “I-I’m close.”

“Come for me,” he commanded, his tone firm yet tender. “Let go.”

And just like that, she shattered. Pleasure exploded through her, white-hot and all-consuming, as her body convulsed around the toy. Lando held her through it, his arms wrapped tightly around her as she rode out the waves of ecstasy.

When she finally came down, her chest heaving and her limbs boneless, Lando set the dildo aside and shifted to lay beside her. He brushed her damp hair from her face, his eyes soft with affection.

“See?” he said, his voice laced with smug satisfaction. “Told you I’d do better.”

She laughed breathlessly, her cheeks flushing again. “Okay, fine. You win.”

“Good,” he replied, leaning in to capture her lips in another kiss. This one was slower, more tender, but no less passionate. When he pulled away, his eyes sparkled with mischief once more.

“But don’t think for a second I’m done with you yet.”

[wendichester]

˚ ༘ ୭ ˚. prankd!

summary. dean really doesn't like when someone touches the impala.

pairing. dean winchester x reader

wordcount. 643

You’ve been waiting for the perfect moment to pull this off, and today is the day. Dean’s holed up, deep into research mode with Sam, which gives you enough time to put your plan into action. You’ve hidden Baby—Dean’s pride and joy—in the safest spot you could think of: a secluded spot a couple of miles from Bobby’s old garage, tucked under a tarp.

By the time Dean emerges from the bunker, you’re leaning on the hood of your car, trying to look casual as you sip your beer.

Dean steps out, his green eyes scanning the parking lot. “Where’s Baby?”

You shrug, keeping your expression neutral. “What do you mean?”

Dean frowns, his gaze snapping back to the empty space where the Impala usually sits. “She’s not there.”

Sam appears behind him, looking up from his phone. “What’s going on?”

“Baby’s gone,” Dean says, his voice tinged with a mixture of panic and anger.

Sam blinks, clearly trying to process the information. “What do you mean, ‘gone’?”

“She’s not here!” Dean growls, his hands flying up in frustration. He spins to face you, suspicion narrowing his eyes. “You wouldn’t happen to know anything about this, would you?”

You raise an eyebrow, feigning innocence. “Why would I know anything? Maybe you misplaced her.”

Dean’s jaw drops, and he looks genuinely offended. “Misplaced? I don’t misplace Baby.”

“Well, she’s not here, so…” you say, trailing off with a shrug. The small glint in the glare you give him should be the indicator that you're the culprit, but Dean's too much in his head to even notice.

Dean paces the lot, running a hand through his hair. “Who the hell steals a car out here? We’re in the middle of nowhere!”

Sam folds his arms, smirking slightly as he glances at you. “Dean, maybe you should calm down.”

“Calm down?” Dean snaps. “Sam, my car’s missing!”

“Dean, it’s just a car,” you tease, unable to resist poking the bear a little.

Dean freezes, slowly turning to face you. “Just a car?” His voice is low, dangerous.

You bite back a laugh, holding up your hands in mock surrender. “Okay, okay, don’t have a coronary.”

“Oh, you little minx... Where is she?” Dean demands, stepping closer, his green eyes boring into yours.

You finally let the grin break through, unable to hold it back any longer. “The care is safe, Dean. I just moved it.” His eye almost twists as you call Baby it.

Dean stares at you, his expression unreadable for a moment, before he growls, “You what?”

“I moved her,” you repeat, pushing off your car. “She’s fine. I even covered her with a tarp so she wouldn’t get dusty.”

���You’re kidding me,” Dean mutters, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Why the hell would you do that?”

“Payback?” you offer, smiling sweetly.

Dean shakes his head, muttering under his breath as he heads for your car. “Show me where she is. Now.”

The drive is filled with Dean grumbling about how you’ve got a death wish and Sam laughing in the backseat, clearly enjoying the show. When you finally pull up to the hidden spot, Dean bolts out of the car before you’ve even come to a full stop.

He whips the tarp off the Impala and sighs in relief, running his hand along her glossy black paint. “Baby, I missed you,” he murmurs.

You lean against the doorframe, arms crossed. “See? She’s fine.”

Dean glares at you, but there’s a glint of amusement in his eyes. “You just wait,”

“I'm shaking” you tease, stepping closer.

Dean smirks, grabbing your waist and pulling you into him. “You're lucky I like you,”

You grin, leaning up closer. “Admit it, I got you good.”

Dean huffs, shaking his head. “Fine, you got me. But you’re never touching Baby again.”

“Deal,” you say, your smile wide.

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[pixiexdusts-world]

Blushing confessions

Hwang Jun-ho x shy!reader

Hwang Jun-ho stood in the aisle of the bookstore, arms crossed as he watched her from a few feet away. She was lost in her own world, flipping through the pages of a novel with a soft smile on her face.

She hadn’t noticed him yet—something he found both adorable and amusing. She’d dragged him here, insisting it would “just be a quick stop,” but thirty minutes later, here they were, with her completely absorbed and him thoroughly entertained.

Quietly, he walked up behind her and leaned down slightly. “Find something good?”

She jumped a little, spinning around to face him with wide eyes. “Jun-ho! You scared me!”

He chuckled, hands slipping into his jacket pockets. “Didn’t mean to. You just looked so focused, I didn’t want to interrupt.”

Her cheeks flushed a pretty pink, and she looked down at the book in her hands. “I, um, think I might get this one.”

“Only one?” he teased, glancing at the small pile of books she’d already picked out.

“I don’t want to carry too many,” she mumbled, still avoiding his gaze.

He smirked, reaching out to take the books from her. “I’ll carry them. Problem solved.”

Her eyes widened. “No, no! It’s okay! I can—”

“I insist,” he interrupted, already cradling the stack in one arm. “Besides, this way you can grab more if you want.”

She stared at him for a moment, her expression caught between gratitude and embarrassment. “You’re too nice to me,” she said softly.

He leaned in just enough to catch her eyes. “You say that like it’s a bad thing.”

She laughed quietly, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. “It’s not. I just… I don’t want you to think I’m taking advantage of you.”

Jun-ho tilted his head, a playful smile tugging at his lips. “If carrying a few books for you is all it takes to make you happy, then I think I’m getting off easy.”

Her blush deepened, and she looked down at her feet. “You’re too sweet.”

He reached out, gently tipping her chin up with his finger so she had to meet his gaze. “And you’re too shy for your own good,” he said, his voice soft. “You know I don’t mind, right? I like doing things for you.”

For a moment, she just stared at him, her lips parting slightly as if she wanted to say something but couldn’t find the words. Finally, she nodded, a small but genuine smile breaking through her shyness. “Thank you, Jun-ho.”

He grinned, stepping back and gesturing toward the shelves. “Now go pick out a couple more books before I change my mind.”

Her laughter was soft but bright, and she quickly turned back to the shelves, a new spark of confidence in her step. As he watched her, Jun-ho couldn’t help but think how much he loved these little moments with her—moments that were quiet, simple, and impossibly sweet.

[inseobts]

In the Shadow

Trafalgar Law x Strawhat Reader

Eustass Kidd x Strawhat Reader (not really but could be implied)

Reader power explained: Chaos Magic (like Scarlet Witch from Avengers), aka telekinesis, telepathy, and energy manipulation.

Warning: Wano arc spoilers I guess

Masterlist

The battlefield in Wano was chaos, flames and smoke rising into the blood-red sky. The rumble of Kaido’s forces clashing with the samurai and pirates was deafening, but you stood your ground on a jagged cliff overlooking the chaos.

Beside you, Trafalgar Law stood stoically, though his exhaustion was evident. His breathing was shallow, and blood dripped from a cut, but he refused to lean on anyone for support.

“Don’t move!” you snap, crouching beside him where he leaned. His hand pressed to the wound, blood pooling through his fingers. He looks at you with his silver eyes, sharp even through his pain.

“I’m not your responsibility, Y/N-ya” he muttered.

“Shut up.” Your words come out harsher than intended, but you don’t care. “I can’t just leave you to bleed out!”

He smirks faintly. “You’re a Strawhat. You should be chasing your captain, not wasting your time on me.”

“You’re an ally now.” Your voice wavered, betraying more emotion than you wanted. “I’m not going anywhere until you’re safe.”

Law looks away, the tension in his jaw softening for just a moment. It isn’t like him to let anyone fuss over him, but something in the way you hovered told him it was useless to argue.

You worked quickly, tearing a strip of fabric from your shirt to bind the wound. “You know,” you say, trying to fill the silence, “for a brilliant tactician, you’ve got a real knack for getting yourself nearly killed.”

“Funny” Law says after a small chuckle.

After a few seconds of silence, an all-too-familiar voice cut through the tense air.

“Oi, Strawhat girl! Didn’t think you’d be babysitting him of all people.”

You turn, meeting Eustass Kidd’s cocky grin as he walks toward you. Despite the chaos of the battlefield, he looks annoyingly composed.

“Kidd,” you say, voice laced with exasperation. “What do you want?”

“Nothing much,” Kidd replies, stopping a few feet away and crossing his arms. “Just wondering why you’re babysitting him when you could be out there kicking more ass.” He nods toward Law with a smirk. “Didn’t think you’d be the type to play nursemaid. Guess the surgeon isn’t as invincible as he thinks.”

“Say that again, and I’ll carve you into pieces” Law growls, though his voice lacked its usual menace.

Kidd laughs, crouching beside you with an infuriatingly amused expression. “Relax, doc. She’s got it covered. Right, Y/N?”

You sigh. Kidd’s presence is a double-edged sword—helpful, sure, but he never knows when to stop pushing buttons.

“We don’t have time for this” you mutter, tying off the bandage around Law’s wound.

“Hey, I could carry him if you want” Kidd offers, his grin widening when Law shot him a murderous glare.

“As if I’d let you.”

“Oh? Afraid I’d drop you on purpose?” Kidd teases, standing back up and stretching. “You should be thanking me for offering to help your girlfriend.”

Your face burning, “He’s not…”

“She’s not…” Law cut in at the same time.

Kidd’s laughter echoes, “You two are pathetic.”

But before you could fire back, a distant explosion shook the ground beneath your feet. You all turn toward the palace in the distance, where Luffy and the others are undoubtedly making their stand.

You stood, determination hardening your features. “We need to move.”

You are now at Law’s side, wrapping an arm around him to steady him. He stiffened but didn’t pull away, too proud to admit he needs the support at least until his wound would heal a bit.

Kidd raises an eyebrow, clearly biting back another remark. But this time, he says nothing, merely watching as you help Law.

Later, after the fighting died down, the allied forces regrouped at the ruins of the performance floor. The surviving fighters gathering to tend their wounds and plan the next move.

“You didn’t have to save me back there” Law says quietly, breaking the silence.

“Don’t be stupid” you reply, staring out at the sea. “Of course I did.”

He stays silent for a long moment. Then, almost too softly to hear: “You’re too kind for your own good.”

You turn to him, frowning. “And you’re too stubborn to admit you care about anyone.”

For once, he doesn’t argue.

From a distance, you hear Kidd’s voice as his crew prepare their ship for the next adventure.

“Hey, Strawhat girl!” he calls. “Try not to get yourself killed before I see you again.”

You roll your eyes but couldn’t suppress the small smile tugging at your lips.

“Why tomorrow don’t you try saying goodbye without the insults” you shot back.

Kidd grins, a glint of something unspoken in his eyes, before turning away.

You feel Law’s gaze on you.

“You really attract the strangest people” he murmures.

You laugh softly, leaning back against the railing. “Takes one to know one, doesn’t it?”

Law doesn’t respond, but the faintest smile plays at the corners of his lips.

For now, it is enough.

Everyone is now enjoying the celebration, the air filled with laughter, food, and the occasional argument over meat.

You sit cross-legged a bit farther from your friends, jocking with your powers. Threads of energy between your fingers, forming intricate shapes that shimmered.

“Hey, Y/N!” Luffy bouces over, eyes wide with excitement. “Make something big this time! Like… a dragon like Momo!”

You smirk, twisting your fingers in sharp, deliberate motions. A glowing construct of Momonosuke’s dragon form coiled into existence above your hands, its fiery eyes flicking toward Luffy.

“Whoa! So cool!” Luffy reaches out to touch it, but the dragon snaps at his hand, dissolving just before contact.

“Careful,” you tease “It bites.”

Luffy laughs, unfazed, and then goes off to wrestle more food.

From across, you hear Kidd’s voice booming over the din.

“Still playing with your little magic tricks, Y/N?” he says with a grin plastered across his face.

You roll your eyes, “Jealous I can make things without smashing half the town?”

The crews burst into laughter as Kidd scowles, though a small smirk tugged at his lips.

Zoro observes the scene while drinking, “She might make you disappear next.”

“Like I’d let her” Kidd shoots back, crossing his arms.

“Should I prove it?” you say, standing and letting threads of energy crackle around your hands.

Before things could escalate, Law’s voice cut through the noise.

“Enough” His tone is calm but firm, the kind of voice that demanded attention.

You turn to see him standing with his arms crossed with his usual stoic expression. But there is something different in his eyes, something that makes your heart skip.

His gaze locks on you as he says “Don’t waste your power on pointless shows.”

Everyone stops drinking and laughing and went quiet, turning to watch the exchange. You feel a flicker of irritation rise in your chest, you drank a bit too much for this.

“It’s not pointless, I’m just having fun.”

“Fun gets people killed” Law replies evenly.

“You’re so dramatic” you say as your temper flared, and before you could stop yourself, you raise a hand. A surge of energy lashes out, wrapping around Law’s hat and yanking it from his head.

The entire crowd froze again.

Law’s expression darkens, and you could see the faintest twitch in his jaw.

“You’ve got three seconds to give that back” he says, his voice dangerously low.

You twirl the hat in your hand, smirking: “Make me.”

Gasps erupt from the crews. No one ever challenged Trafalgar Law like that—at least, not without regretting it.

But instead of retaliating, Law surprises everyone. He steps closer, closing the distance between you, until he was inches away. His eyes locked on yours, and for a moment, the world seemed to hold its breath.

Then, in a move so swift you almost didn’t see it, he snatches the hat from your hand and place it back on his head.

“You’re impossible” he says, turning to walk away.

“Aw, is that your way of saying you like me?” you tease, your grin widening.

Law stops in his tracks, his back to you. The crews erupted into laughter and cheers, but you barely hear them over the pounding of your own heart.

When Law finally turns, his face was unreadable, but there is a faint flush on his cheeks.

“Maybe” he says quietly, so only you can hear. Then, louder: “But if you pull a stunt like that again, I’ll make sure you regret it.”

The crew’s laughter grew louder, and you can’t help but laugh too, the tension between you and Law dissipating in an instant.

“Guess I’ll have to keep you on your toes, then” you say, your voice light.

Law shake his head, but there is a small smile on his lips as he walks away, the crews still hollering behind him.

And from the other side, Kidd watched the exchange with a scowl.

“Idiots” he mutter, but there was no mistaking the jealousy in his eyes.

[rikabluejay]

MDNI!!!!!

Hard thoughts

Just thinking about….

♤Sunghoon is known for his calm demeanor and soft interior, but you’ve learned the hard way never to piss him off. The moment you push him too far, the shift is instant. His normally gentle touch turns firm, his gaze darkens, and the air between you thickens with tension. You can feel it in every controlled movement, every slow breath he takes, as if he’s waiting for the right moment to remind you that his patience isn’t limitless. By the time he’s done with you, your ability to walk away will be the last thing on your mind.

♤Sunghoon is also known for his protective side, especially when it comes to his loved ones, and it’s no different when it comes to you—except it’s much more intense. You’re his, and his alone, and the moment someone dares to cross your boundaries, you can feel the shift in him. His calm demeanor cracks, and a dangerous edge takes over. He’ll intervene if necessary, but when you’re alone, that protective fire doesn’t fade—it intensifies. He takes it out on you, guiding you through his frustration in ways that remind you just how much you belong to him.

♤You’ll take whatever he gives you, no complaints, because deep down you both know that nothing is ever “too much” for either of you. You thought you were the kinkiest person you knew—until you met Sunghoon. He pushes boundaries with a gentle, calm hand, showing you a side of yourself you never thought existed. With him, you learn just how far you’re willing to go, and every moment leaves you craving more, trusting him completely to guide you to places you’ve never been before.

♤When you’re good to him, Sunghoon makes sure you’re rewarded, and in his eyes, you’re always deserving of it. “Good girls always get rewards,” he murmurs, his voice smooth with satisfaction. Whether it’s bringing heaven to you with tender care spending hours between your legs, he’ll do whatever it takes. For his princess, he’ll always go the extra mile, giving you what you crave because you’ve been such a good girl to him. His care and intensity intertwine, making every moment feel like a reward, just for you.

♤You both had a rule—the only time you’re allowed to touch yourself is when he’s abroad, on a call, sometimes even a video call. But the moment he’s back in the country, the rule is clear: you absolutely cannot. You, however, broke that rule, and Sunghoon caught you. It’s probably the only time you’ll ever break it—or maybe just the first time, because when you’re feeling mischievous again, you know Sunghoon’s not the kind of man to let anything slide. He’ll remind you of that rule, in ways that leave you breathless, pushing your limits and testing how far you’ll go before you beg him for forgiveness.

♤Sunghoon knows exactly how to tease you, drawing it out until your last ounce of patience snaps. He enjoys watching you squirm, the way your breath catches, and the frustration builds in you. Every move he makes, every whispered word, is designed to push you closer to the edge. And when you’re on the verge of tears, he knows he’s won. If you manage to stay good, he’ll reward you, but if you don’t—his punishments are relentless. His words cut deep, sharp and unyielding, making every second feel like an eternity as he tests just how much you can take before you break.

♤Sunghoon is always in control, but you can see the flicker of amusement in his eyes when he’s teasing you. He enjoys watching you try to hold it together, knowing exactly when to push you just a little further. And when you finally snap, he’s there to catch you, making sure you’re okay, but leaving you craving more.

-

-

-

A/N: lol idk if this is my best work but enjoy people😮‍💨 you can leave me asks and requests if you want to✨

[mofongomuncher]

𝘽𝙖𝙞𝙡𝙚 𝙄𝙣𝙤𝙡𝙫𝙞𝙙𝙖𝙗𝙡𝙚

(Ekko X Reader)

❥ cast : ! Ekko and Reader ¡

I leaned against the wall, arms crossed, watching you as you messed with the radio. Your eyes flickered back at me, amusement written all over your face.

"dancing? Seriously?" I asked, arching a brow. My voice carried my usual skepticism, but I couldn't lie—I was curious.

You grinned, turning fully to face me. "It's gonna be funnn Ekko, trust."

I let out a small chuckle, shaking my head.

"Alrighty" you started, stepping closer. My breath hitched slightly at the proximity, but I didn't move. "Firstt, we need to feel the music. This is not just about the steps, it's about the flow. Okay?"

I hesitated. Dancing wasn't exactly my thing—fighting, strategizing, outmaneuvering? Yeah. But this? This was different. Still, when you extended your hand, palm open, waiting, I found myself stepping forward.

My fingers brushed against yours, and for some reason, that simple touch sent a shock up my arm. You guided me into position, your hand light on mine, but firm. I swallowed, trying to focus, but it was hard when you were this close.

The music pulsed through the air, the steady beat wrapping around us. I followed your movements, my steps stiff at first, hesitant. But your eyes were locked onto mine, full of something I couldn't quite name, and it kept me grounded.

No, no te puedo olvidar. No, no te puedo borrar. Tú, me enseñaste a querer. me enseñaste a bailar.

(No, I can't forget you. No, I can't erase you. You taught me to love. You taught me how to dance.)

"Just trust the rhythm, baby.." you murmured. Your voice was soft but steady, pulling me in.

"Just let go and follow me."

I nodded, inhaling deeply. My grip on your hand tightened, more sure now. I let myself listen to the music, to the space between us. And slowly, I started to move with you, matching your steps.

That's when I really felt it.

The way your body guided mine, the way your fingertips brushed my skin as you corrected my form. You were patient, your touch lingering just a second too long in places, making my pulse spike. It wasn't just dancing. It was something else. Something more.

You moved closer, your hands grazing my shoulders, my waist. My breath hitched as we found our rhythm, bodies brushing, moving in perfect sync.

Como tú me besaba', como yo te lo hacía Como tú me miraba', bellaquito me ponía Se siente feo no tenerte cerquita La nueva mama bien, pero no es tu boquita

(The way you kissed me, the way I made you feel The way you looked at me, it turned me on. It feels so wrong not to have you close. The new girl's good, but she doesn't have your lips.)

I couldn't take my eyes off you.

The song flowed through us, and suddenly, it wasn't about the steps at all. It was about you and me. The way your lips parted slightly as you focused, the way your laughter mixed with the melody. The way your body fit so perfectly against mine.

Then you pulled me closer.

My hands found your waist instinctively, fingers pressing into the fabric of your shirt. You spun, and I followed, completely lost in you, in this moment.

We were inches apart now, your breath warm against my skin, your gaze flickering to my lips for just a second. The space between us wasn't much—but it felt unbearable.

I felt the way your grip on my hand tightened, the way you leaned in just enough to give me all the confirmation I needed.

So I closed the gap.

The first touch of your lips was soft, hesitant—like we were both holding back, caught in the weight of everything unsaid. But then, we melted into it, the kiss deepening as my arms wrapped around you, pulling you in.

You sighed into me, your fingers slipping into my hair, and fuck—I was gone.

Lost in the way you tasted, in the way your body pressed against mine. The music faded into the background, but I could still feel it, the rhythm of the song now in sync with the rhythm of our hearts.

By the time we pulled away, the song had ended.

Our eyes locked on eachother, our breaths mixing, the space between us still humming with energy.

"You know, you're not so bad as I thought.." you murmured, your lips still swollen from the kiss.

I huffed a quiet laugh, my fingers still tracing the shape of your waist. "I just needed the right teacher. That's all" My voice was lower now, more serious, because this—you—was different.

You smiled, small but it was real.

And as I stood there, my hand still over your heartbeat, I knew one thing for sure—

I wasn't never gonna forget this.

I lay in bed, staring at the cracked ceiling of some random rundown safe house. The war was over—if you could even call it that. Noxus, Piltover, Zaun... They had all left their scars, and now all that was left was the rubble. The ghosts.

A soft breath against my chest made me glance down. Jinx. She was curled into me, her short wild blue hair spilling over my arm, her breathing slow and steady. She looked peaceful—like none of it had ever happened.

But my mind wasn't here.

It was there.

A song crackled faintly from the old radio in the corner of our room, the sound warping with static, but I didn't need it to be clear. I knew the lyrics. The rhythm.

No, no te puedo olvidar. No, no te puedo borrar. Tú, me enseñaste a querer. me enseñaste a bailar.

(No, I can't forget you. No, I can't erase you. You taught me to love. taught me how to dance.)

I shut my eyes.

And suddenly, I wasn't in a broken bed, surrounded by the smell of gunpowder and metal.

I was with you.

Your laughter, soft and sweet, filled the air, blending with the melody. I could still feel your hand on my chest, steadying me as I fumbled through the steps. You had been so patient. So damn patient with me, smiling every time I messed up, teasing me, guiding me.

"You're stiff again." you had said, laughing, your fingers squeezing mine. "Loosen up baby."

I had rolled my eyes, but I had listened. Because I always listened when it was you.

The memory felt so real. I could feel the warmth of your body pressed against mine, the sway of your hips leading me through the dance. The world had blurred away until it was just us, moving to the music, our heartbeats in sync.

Como tú me besaba', como yo te lo hacía Como tú me miraba', bellaquito me ponía Se siente feo no tenerte cerquita La nueva mama bien, pero no es tu boquita

(The way you kissed me, the way I made you feel The way you looked at me, it turned me on. It feels so wrong not to have you close. The new girl's good, but she doesn't have your lips.)

The way you had looked at me that night... like I was yours. Like I was the only one who mattered.

And then the kiss.

Fuck.

That kiss.

I could still taste it, still feel the way your lips had lingered on mine like you were trying to memorize me. The way your hands had slid up my arms, pulling me closer, like letting go wasn't an option.

"Everything feels right..." you had whispered.

And I had believed you.

But now, lying in this bed with her, with Jinx, I knew the truth.

I lost you.

I had let you slip through my fingers, like sand I couldn't hold onto no matter how hard I tried.

And maybe I deserved that.

Yo con cualquiera me puedo acostar Pero no con cualquiera quiero despertar Solo con usted, con usted Yo bailo con usted, na'má con usted Un beso donde esté, donde estés, beb—

(Oh, I can sleep with anyone But I don't wanna wake up with just anyone Only with you, with you I only dance with you, no one else but you A kiss to wherever you are, wherever you are, baby-)

The radio stuttered, the song fading into static before cutting off entirely.

Jinx stirred against my chest, her breath soft and slow as she blinked awake, a little mischievous smile tugging at her lips. She looked up at me, her pink eyes glowing with that usual spark of energy.

Without warning, she planted a quick kiss on my lips—teasing, playful, just enough to leave a mark without lingering too long. "I knew you'd be the perfect pillow Ekko.." she murmured, her voice low and teasing.

I froze for a moment, still feeling the echo of your presence in my mind, even as Jinx leaned back, propping herself up on her elbows, her fingers tracing the lines of my abs.

I fought the urge to pull away from the thoughts of you.

"Hm, is it always this quiet when I wake up?" she asked, her voice slightly teasing but not quite crossing any lines. "You're usually more talkative."

I tried to keep it casual, trying to focus on her words, even though my mind was running elsewhere. "Guess you caught me off guard.." I muttered, my voice a little strained.

She didn't seem to notice, or maybe she just didn't care since she settled back down against me, curling her body into mine. Her hand rested on my chest, her fingers lightly grazing my chest.

"You're a strange one little man.." she said, her tone softening as she laid her head back down on my chest, her breath warm against my skin.

I wanted to tell her. I wanted to explain that my heart wasn't really in this moment. But all I could do was lay there, my chest tightening with the weight of my thoughts.

I wanted to turn back time.

I wanted to go back to that night, to that song, to that dance, to you.

But all I could do was lay here, trapped in memories that would never be more than that.

(Any fellow Puerto Ricans here?? Lmkk )

Check out my Ekko one shots on Wattpad for more stories!! :3

[that-one-ostrich-friend]

hello!! i have a request for a kaz brekker fic if you’re feeling up to it!

I love the idea of kaz with a civilian/university!reader, so i was wondering if you could do something along those lines? maybe the reader is an academic and he comes to her for help with specific jobs? something domestic would be cute as well! (as domestic as kaz can be of course)

if you dont feel like writing it thats understandable! thank you :)

Pastries

kaz brekker x reader - pastries

word count: 1k

summary: a light night request calls for coffee and pastries

warnings: none

a/n: now i have a kaz fic that isn’t just angst!!

     The candle on Y/N’s desk flickered faintly as she bent over her notes, her fingers smudged with ink from hours spent untangling old Ravkan phrases for her linguistics assignment. Her dorm room was quiet except for the scratch of her quill and the occasional creak of the floorboards above. She paused, stretching her neck and glancing at the clock. It was nearing nine, and most of the other students had retreated to the university's common rooms or their beds.

     Just as she reached for her cup of tea—long gone cold—a knock echoed through her small room.

     She frowned. No one ever visited her this late.

     Tucking a stray piece of hair behind her ear, Y/N crossed the room and unlatched the door. Standing on the other side was a figure she had come to know far better than she’d expected: Kaz Brekker, dressed in his usual somber attire, gloved hands occupied with a small paper bag and two cups of what looked—and smelled—like coffee.

     “Kaz?” Her surprise was evident in her voice. “What are you doing here? It’s late.”

     His sharp gaze flickered past her, scanning the room briefly before meeting her eyes. “I have something for you to look at,” he said simply.

     Y/N raised a brow, leaning against the doorframe. “And pastries?” she teased, nodding toward the bag. “That part of the job, too?”

     Kaz’s lips quirked, almost imperceptibly. “Consider it a peace offering. Are you going to let me in?”

     She stepped aside, motioning for him to enter. He limped in, his cane tapping lightly against the wooden floor. Her dorm was modest but cozy: shelves filled with books, a small bed in the corner, and a desk cluttered with papers. It wasn’t exactly the sort of place she imagined Kaz Brekker spent much time, but he’d made a habit of showing up over the past few months with scraps of coded text or foreign phrases that needed translating.

     “You didn’t send word this time,” she remarked, closing the door behind him.

     “It couldn’t wait,” he replied, setting the bag and drinks down on her desk.

     Y/N smirked as she returned to her seat, glancing up at him. “And here I thought you just missed me.”

     Kaz said nothing, but his silence was telling. His gloved hand retrieved a folded piece of paper from his coat and handed it to her. “It’s in Zemeni this time,” he said.

     She unfolded it, scanning the neat but unfamiliar script. “Zemeni? That’s new for you.”

     “New job, new problems,” he replied, taking the seat opposite her.

     Y/N glanced at the pastries. “And you brought coffee,” she mused, pulling the bag closer. “You are trying to bribe me.”

     “You complain less when you’re eating,” Kaz said, his tone dry but his eyes betraying a flicker of amusement.

     Y/N laughed softly, reaching for one of the pastries. She broke it in half and popped a piece into her mouth, savoring the buttery, sweet flavor. “You know, if I didn’t know better, I’d think you were trying to be thoughtful.”

     Kaz sipped his coffee, saying nothing, but his ears reddened slightly at the edges.

     Y/N shook her head, smiling to herself as she turned back to the Zemeni text. “Let me see what you’ve gotten yourself into this time.”

     The two of them fell into an easy rhythm, one that had grown familiar over the weeks. Kaz would present her with a text or a cipher, and she’d pore over it, occasionally asking him for context or clarification. Tonight was no different. As she worked, she couldn’t help but notice how quiet he was. Kaz was never particularly talkative, but tonight he seemed especially preoccupied.

     She glanced up from the page, catching him watching her. “You’re staring,” she said, a teasing lilt in her voice.

     Kaz didn’t flinch, though a faint crease appeared between his brows. “You mutter to yourself when you’re reading,” he said.

     Y/N blinked. “I do not.”

     “You do,” he insisted.

     She smirked, leaning back in her chair. “And you’ve been paying enough attention to notice?”

     Kaz’s mouth opened slightly as if to respond, but no words came out. Y/N tilted her head, watching him with a mixture of amusement and curiosity. For all his sharp wit and unshakable confidence, Kaz Brekker had a surprisingly difficult time with straightforward compliments—or any sign of vulnerability, for that matter.

     “Relax, Kaz,” she said softly, turning back to the text. “I’m just giving you a hard time.”

     “Be careful,” he replied, his voice low but laced with a subtle warmth. “I might stop bringing pastries.”

     “Oh, don’t threaten me like that,” Y/N said with a grin, jotting down a few notes on the paper. “Now, about this Zemeni phrase. It’s a merchant code. See these symbols here? They indicate weights and measures. Whoever wrote this is trying to conceal shipment details.”

     Kaz leaned forward, his cane resting against the side of the desk. “Can you decode it?”

     “I already did,” she replied, sliding the paper back toward him. “It’s a list of cargo: textiles, spices, and—” She paused, her eyes narrowing at the final line. “Weapons.”

     Kaz’s expression darkened slightly. “Anything about where it’s headed?”

     “Not explicitly, but these markers here suggest it’s being transported by river. My guess is someone’s using the trade routes to smuggle contraband.”

     He nodded, his mind clearly working through the implications. Y/N watched him for a moment, marveling at the way his sharp mind seemed to move faster than anyone else’s.

     “Whoever wrote this must be pretty clever to use Zemeni as a cipher,” she mused. “Not many people in Ketterdam would bother to learn it.”

     Kaz looked up, his gaze piercing. “That’s why I came to you.”

     Y/N’s cheeks warmed slightly, though she kept her tone light. “Flattery will get you everywhere, Brekker.”

     “I don’t flatter,” he replied, his voice quiet but firm.

     For a moment, neither of them spoke. Y/N felt the weight of his words settle between them, heavier than the text or the pastries or the coffee. She opened her mouth to respond but hesitated, unsure of what to say.

     Kaz was the first to look away, his gloved hand reaching for the paper. “I’ll take this back,” he said, his tone brisk once more.

     “You’re welcome,” she said, rolling her eyes as she leaned back in her chair.

     Kaz stood, his movements slow but deliberate. He picked up his cane, pausing at the door. “I’ll be back if there’s more to decode.”

     Y/N crossed her arms, leaning against the edge of the desk. “Or if you run out of pastries to bribe me with.”

     He hesitated, his grip on the doorframe tightening. “Goodnight, Y/N.”

     “Goodnight, Kaz,” she replied, her voice softer now.

     She watched him leave, the sound of his cane fading down the hall. For all his sharp edges and carefully constructed walls, there was something undeniably human in the way he lingered.

     Y/N smiled to herself as she turned back to her desk, already wondering when he’d come knocking next.

[prodixal]

"Nonsense. I do not play with you." he rejects the words with a shake of his head, a playful grin still on. "That is entirely your domain." it was not, though she was winning. He could never get quite as clever as she could, her mind amused him greatly in that sense. Or perhaps he simply got distracted -- by the way she lifted her chin, and nudge him with her eyes. Or the way her hands reached for him, as if it was the single most casual thing in the world. Perhaps it had been. It was certainly starting to feel like it. "I will make sure never to meet anyone new ever again then, on an off chance they might turn out more unpredictable than you." In moments like this, beneath the jokes such as these, Rickon believed to have spotted a strange pattern. And it came with a suspicion that she might actually fear someday being replaced -- perhaps even just as much as he did. The thought spread warm over his chest, and he shifted slightly closer to her side. Her laugh is followed by his own, and his head leans upon hers as she slips her arm through the crack of his crossed hands. Rickon cannot help but beam at her words, as if without even knowing -- she had offered exactly what he had always wished to hear. Even if it was only in jest. "Well, when you put it like that..." he starts, grin wide and endearing. "I will gladly be horse shit stuck to your giant shoe." how romantic, he thinks, perhaps with a few more words it could sound about as amusing as his childhood poetry. "I certainly do...see the appeal, that is. Even if you would grow so very bored of me." His brows rise as she pulls away from under his arm, and he will lift the other in defence with a grin spread on. "Alright alright ,I shall leave your boy alone." he says through a huff of a laugh as she's linking their palms again. He lets the gesture warm him, and eyes trace over her fingers as her words ease over a sense of slight insecurity. "Aye, sometimes one does." He will pull her close then anyway, and a smile will arise. "And sometimes not."

-

Her head against his chest soothes him, and he will let the moment end only as she pulls away to face him once again. His jaw clenches slightly as he swallows, looking down to her eyes, as he dives into words of gentle reassurance. She was so close now, so close to understanding just exactly what he had feared. What had plagued his mind. Only, it was not the kiss which had inspired such a fear, it was deeper than that, something else entirely. And yet he lets himself forget, lets himself be comforted by hopeful words that could never be. 'I don't believe we will ever be lost to each other. I mean, not truly.' Rickon did. He had believed it, feared it, he had thought it, imagined it. It felt almost inevitable, at some point. But now, as she looked up at his eyes and her own belief shone through with such hope, such want for it to be true -- he had not the heart to crush it. "Right." he confirms, and he tries to show he had believed it too, but perhaps his lips betray him, perhaps she could yet see the remainders of fear linger. For he was not sure, and he could not well lie. Then her thumbs pass over his cheeks, and she's up on her toes with lips placed quick at the corner of his own. And he takes a breath in just then, and he locks slightly in his spot as his thoughts all but vanish away, replaced by burning of his skin and a strange sort of dizziness. He blinks, at the motions in which she had decided to demonstrate her point. And eventually, a smile sneaks on as he nods in acceptance. "I see." he says, then his head will tilt into the palms of her hands as she cups his face again, and his own will fall over her waist as she speaks. As she confirms he need not ask, assures she would have offered it all the same. His cheeks will turn hot and red beneath her touch, and she will lean in, and press her lips against his, and her hand will slip down behind his neck. A shiver will pass him, a breath sneak in while her own flies warm against his skin. The moment she pulls him deeper so gentle and careful, he does so too -- closer and rougher, with hunger at the parted lips and hands tighter around her waist as he further closes the space between her and his chest. He will pull away only slightly, after a while, in between kisses and a breath, for his eyes to find her just a moment, just to ensure she was real -- before he is pulling her in again, smile curved beneath exchanging passes of their lips. And he had understood, perhaps for the first time truly, why nobody else ever waited...

" I WOULD LIKE TO BELIEVE IT IS MUTUAL ." daenya replies with a lofty raise of her chin , her eyes glinting with mischief as they meet his . her smile widens . " although perhaps i am winning ." the jest is light as daenya's eyes crinkle , as she hums a pleased sound at rickon's next words , tilting her head with a light . " you flatter me ." she points to him with a finger . " but you should note that i am the least predictable person you should ever meet too ." or at least she endeavors to be . perhaps not only the least predictable but the most memorable . perhaps not just the most memorable , but the favourite . after all , it is likely rickon will meet a great many people in his lifetime . and where will she land amongst the crowd ? daenya has faith that she is at the very front of it . that she will always be . but it never hurts to be sure . the huff of laughter that daeny releases is warm as she is pulled closer , as her grin widens brightly, as she turns to meet his gaze to say , " perhaps that is what i wish for ." her brows arch cheekily as she meets his gaze , as she leans in to wrap her hands around the bicep of one of his crossed arms to conspiratorially add , " we shall be inseparable . you will be affix to me forever , we will never part ." a glitter of amusement in her eyes as she rests her chin on his shoulder . " i would hope that you might see the appeal in that ." daenya allows herself to be pulled in again without protest . well , not protest at the proximity . she does make a bit of an affronted sound from where her face is buried in his throat , huffing to say , " watch your tongue , i quite like rickon as he is ." she allows herself to be soothed by the closeness for a beat before she pulls back enough to meet his eyes and say , " and the only one permitted to poke at him is me ." she moves to fit their hands together anew , allowing them to be palm to palm as she fidgets with their joint hands . her eyes flick down to where their fingers are lined up before she's adding , " besides , sometimes one needs to be serious ." her tone is lofty , almost sage before she's tipping her head up to playfully meet his eyes again . " so i've heard , at least ."

-

once again as he reaches for her daeny goes easily . the hand on the back of her neck is met with a step forward even as shiver goes up her spine at the touch . her face meets his chest with an inhale that's deep enough to settle her . she turns her head so that her ear is resting against him , so that the warmth of his skin through the fabric is combined with the consistent thrum of his heartbeat . and yet even as daeny finds herself soothed she finds her brows furrowing all the same . " you will not lose me , rickon ." daenya says insistently as she pulls back enough to meet his eyes . her brows furrow for a moment before she's bringing both hands up to cradle his face . her eyes scan his features like she might find answers in them . " ... is that what you think ?" it feels bewildering to daeny . granted , many things in these past few moments have felt so . but perhaps this most of all . " just because you have kissed me does not mean that you will lose me ." daenya says softly , warmly as she meets his eyes . her head shakes the slightest bit to say , " i don't believe we will ever be lost to each other . i mean , not truly ." she would like to believe it at the very least . the hope of that shines in her eyes . " right ?" her features has softened with the words , the furrow between her brows finally easing , smoothing out into something nonexistent . it is with gentle thumbs stroking over his cheekbones that she pushes up onto her toes to press a kiss to the corner of his mouth . she eases back down onto her heels and meets his eyes , her heart still drumming in her chest even as she pulls a hand from his cheek to wave it before his face . " see ?" the slightest huff of laughter . her eyes crinkle with it . " still here ." there's a tenderness in the softening of her voice . she nods as she waves that hand , as she brings it back to his cheek . " not lost at all , even as you have me ." she swallows as their eyes meet once again , as his gaze falls down to what certainly is her lips and she can't help but think that the way he looks at her now feels different . or perhaps it is the same and she has only just noticed it . her heart hammers at the thought , at the question he asks of her . " ... of course ." daeny's head tilts with the words , her eyes flicking over his features , over the line of his gaze . she feels very briefly warm with it . " you needn't ask , truly ." a swallow as she shrugs slightly , as she leans up into him with a truthful , " ... i would have offered ." the words are spoken against his mouth a beat before daeny pushes forward , before she connects their lips with a perhaps uncharacteristic gentleness . there is a moment where she lingers , where she sighs before she is sliding one of the hands on his cheek to the back of his neck , before she's pushing carefully closer .

[kata-loging]

Thomas Ian Griffith as Jan Valek in John Carpenter's Vampires (1998)

[screampied]

࣪₊ 𐙚 YOU SAY IT'S BIG BUT U TAKE IT ?! ★

gojo, nanami, toji, sukuna, geto. you come home struck by a love curse and need their help on "recovering" from the after effects. (anon req)

𐚁̸ wc. 3.8k

𐚁̸ warnings. fem! reader, feral reader, love pollen/curse, unprotected, sukuna has two dicks, dirty talk, p in v, oral (f + m receiving), squırting, biting, spanks, dumbification, overstim, brēeding, premature ejaculatıon, mdni.

☆ SUKUNA RYŌMEN

“wha— you’re clingier than usual,” the curse grumbles as you burst through the door. you’re panting steadily. he was almost shirtless with his usual kimono that’s exposing his abs. rickety arms of yours wrap around his waist before you drop right down onto your knees. with a raised eyebrow, he huffs. “eh. should i even ask.”

“no,” you reply within a second. your voice inwas nothing but a pure trembly tune. your body . . it felt hot all over, some stupid pollen or whatever it was was responsible for your feral state. you were even smelling the definition of the word too. you were grateful he didn’t ask, alas instead—he crosses all of his arms before glancing down at you. pawing at his boxers to fall down, it comes down slowly. the wait was killing you as you glance at his huge hardened bulge preparing to be exposed. oh, you’re already drooling. you needed sukuna so bad, your thighs were already quaking. the air surrounding you both suddenly felt scorching and the minuscule goosebumps that reside amongst your skin felt even hotter. “i- i need a taste, ‘kuna. please.”

he hums in amusement. “oh? don’t let me stop you then, horny girl,” and an oversized hand grips onto the crown of your head. with a nod, he views as your eyes light up at the now hefty sight of his two flashy dicks. with a groan—he shudders once he gapes at your tongue and how it licks against the one near the front. “mhm, you little . . minx. good, take it then. enjoy your precious meal.”

sukuna’s in love with your mouth—with your tongue, you’re so sloppy and you just can’t help it.

running your sweet tongue along both areas of his dicks—every part, the base, the length, and even the sensitive frenulum—he groans loudly. it’s an almost roar that echoes through his chambers. both of his dicks which were visibly stacked amongst each other. one was in front while the other was in back. each were the same amounts of thick and broad. thickset and fucking heavy, you bob your head down against the first one until he shoots raw into your mouth within just a few minutes. “fuck, easy, e-easy,” he stammers, feeling you snake a hand against his neglected cock to stroke it, fondling with his heavyset balls.

hearing sukuna stutter does something to you. you couldn’t exactly describe it, but you wanted to hear more of it. his head tilts back slightly as his lips purse, preparing to click his tongue. “ugh, can’t handle you when you suck that good,” and he grabs you by the hair, making you return his lascivious gaze. “look at you. jus’ a cock drunken mess. got m-me,” and he deeply exhales. sukuna chokes on his own words, barely even able to finish his sentence.

you took so much out of him in such little time. truth be told, maybe this love curse whatever it was, was a good thing. spit races down both sides of your mouth as you happily keep his shaft warm into your tight throat. his cum was a lot, a bittery taste of his own lingers on your tongue before he cock taps against the roof of your mouth. if it wasn’t for you doing a simple trick with your fingers, you’d have gag. you wanted more, lathering your tongue against his tip with no shame—you then reach a hand down to play with your pulsing clit.

“mphm.” you mumble inaudibly, feeling him start to push your head further down. a chaffing smile goes against your mouth and he scoffs. you’re making him feel things. things he didn’t even know he could feel. sukuna’s cold heart significantly flutters at the sight of you. it flutters simply at how good you make him feel. it’s a feeling he didn’t want to stop. at least not yet.

“god, ‘m gonna cum again,” he inhales before exhaling lowly. as he does so, his chest collapses back in from his sigh before he’s now facefucking you. the curse’s thigh taps and clenches, muscles creating a flexion within the nerves stored inside before he sees you drooling for more. as the bobbing of your head’s tempo increases, he groans before making you stare dead into his eyes with a simple grip. “nasty girl. comin’ home just to slobber on my dick, look at that f-face, fuuuuck,” and the moment you end up making him cum for about the umpteenth time of the night, he’s embarrassed. face flushed, you’re switching between his dicks to give them both equal amounts of love before he moves you off from sucking him. “brat,” he glares, grabbing your chin as a few sloshing spurts of cum pour down your chin. sukuna then leans in to kiss you, his tongue tweaks against your lips and he tastes own arousal with no shame at all. shame never exists for a man like him—a cursed being like him. you moan, feeling a fang of his gently bite into your bottom lip before he pulls away. in a low, shaky tone, he grumbles. “wipe that smile off your face, woman. this isn’t o-over.”

☆ NANAMI KENTO

“my love?” nanami hoarsely pulls down the newspaper he was reading from his face. the glimmer of the g-shock he wore that wraps around his wrist ricochets against the chandelier hanging above the two of you. eyeing you closely, he leans back against his wooden rocking chair. “how was work? your boss take it easy on you today?”

“kento,” you breathe, getting right on his lap. you’re met with those same gentle fawn irises that’s captured your heart within an instant. a hand of his gently strokes against your waist before he watches you speak in such a needy way. “touch me— please, i want you so bad.”

nanami chortles lowly. “aw, i want you too honey.”

“no . . like, i want you,” and he sees how you’re glancing back at him with feral, blown pupils. nanami could tell how needy you were just from your tone and body language alone. he could never say no to you, his beloved wife. nanami knew you, and most importantly, he knew every inch of your body like the back of his hand . .

the moment he’s got you laid on your back, everything’s lost. it’s as if time comes to an abrupt stop. the moment you feel his thick cock ease it’s way into your cunt, you immensely swallow him whole. “so warm ‘n snug,” he whispers, bringing his lips toward your face to pepper various kisses against your skin. he’s so gentle with you, he always was. he cups your chin before giving you a deep kiss to distract you from the brief tang of you clamping onto him. “how . . do you feel? is this okay—?”

his low voice was so smooth—leisurely, he’s rocking his hips against you before he playfully nibbles near your chin. a hand of his intertwined with your fingers as he waits for your sweet response. “i- i feel hot,” you moan, throwing your arms around him. “more please, ‘ken. makes me throb when you touch me.”

nanami chuckles, a quick piston of his hips and your legs wrap around his slim waist. his cologne swarms around your nostrils before you whine again. you sound so pretty—melodious, each moan that escapes out of you sounds like a harmony within each lewdly musical moment that passes. “so the curse makes you more sensitive for me?” he coos against your neck, another free hand of his rubbing against your tummy. you’re just laid back, taking every appetizing inch of him and your eyes roll and roll to the very backs of your cranium. “my sweet girl,” and his voice—you could get off to it, you were already profusely pulsing from his deeply through strokes regardless. “i’ll touch every inch of this perfect body if it ‘cures’ you, mhm.”

his touch makes you more sensitive though. nanami was sensual, taking his time with you. his pace was not to fast or too slow. just right . .

his fat cock slowly jackhammers itself into you, irregular breaths sounding more and more jagged. as he’s talking you through it against the shell of your ear, you dig your fingertips into his back. as you run a hand down, you feel a tiny mole print against his skin. “kento, r- right there, riiiight there,” and you’re keeping the entirety of his waist hostage with your ankles. “cum in me, your cum’s gonna save me i think . . s-so, please.”

“you say such silly things sometimes, my sweet,” he whispers against your neck, giving it a long suck. you moan from his tongue flicking against the new mark he created before he’s quickening his hips just a tad bit. the bed creaks and sings, it’s as if it’s making a new mixtape with its noises. “but alright, if my baby wants me to fill her up so she can feel better, i’ll do that,” and before he shoots into you—he grabs your chin. “ah, but look at me though,” and he’s panting heavily, sepia-colored strands sticking against the sheet of sweat that goes against his forehead. “look at me. look into my eyes, wifey,” and he sneaks a kiss onto your trembling lips. thrusting into you at brimming speed, he groans. “atta girl, there she is,” he purrs at you, a thumb brushing against your quivering bottom lip. he looked at you as if he loved you, nanami was sweet but a secret filthy man at heart. only for you though. “wanna see that pretty face. think ‘m gonna give you a baby or two while ‘m at it, my love. f-fuck.”

☆ GOJO SATORU

“girl—could be a little nicer y’know,” gojo grumbles as you lightly flick him against his back onto the plump mattress. you were always no match for his unprovoked sass. with a teasing pout, he’s staring right back up at you as you straddle his chin. grabbing a fistful of his hair, you inch your pooling warm entrance against his face. “how do you even get struck by a ‘love’ curse anyway? thought that only happens in fan fiction, heh.”

“just shut up,” you moan, hovering over your boyfriend’s face. he was so pretty — just gawking at him alone had you going more feral. gojo’s eyes, they were always so ethereal looking. a bright blueish cerulean—almost a viridescent green with how it reflects against the bedroom light. “f-fuck, i want you to taste it so bad, ‘toru. want you.”

with an impish smile, he slides the side of your panties aside. “soooo, what are ya waitin’ for? let me eat this ‘curse’ out of you, angel.”

and the moment you plant your sopping wet cunt against his face, he’s ultimately determined to do so. gojo was a messy eater. it was really no denying it. you’re swiping your slick heat against his nose like a credit card and he eats it up everytime. drool pours from the corners of his mouth as he’s gripping your thighs with both hands. doughy padded thumbs of his pierce into your skin as you’re rutting against his face in rapturing pleasure. “like that baby, f-fuck.”

“go on—praise me some more,” he giggles, warm breath fanning against your entrance. your stomach caves and seizes in and out as you’re still moving all around. it doesn’t take long before your legs start to quaver. “call me a good boy, yeah.”

as much as you wanted to eye roll in the most dramatic way, you couldn’t.

you’ve got a firm grip into his white, snowy strands before giving it a solid yank. “g- good boy, ‘s good for me, ‘toru. think your tongue is working,” and your voice was so soft, its delivery was almost a mere whisper. gojo’s sucking against your clit, casually making out with it in such a sloppy way that’s he’s imitating a french kiss. you continuously pulse into his mouth, feeling him breath through his nose before he spanks your sensitive entrance. as he does such a thing, a splash of your own arousal goes onto his face. teasingly, he sticks out his tongue to lick it clean. “f-fuck.” you whine, and he starts to feel himself get hard. not from you calling him a good boy, but the view itself.

the view of you, riding his face, straddling him in such a sexy way makes him feel a raging hard on in his boxers.

oh, the way you were maintaining such eye contact.

so sensual, you use his face for your own pleasure, hearing your heartbeat arise at a more quick through your ears. the sharp edges of gojo’s teeth nibble playfully against your thighs before you whimper once he prods a lengthy finger inside. he’s located your g-spot just like that, immediately moaning aloud before his digit curls up into your gummy walls. “fuck, you’re so hot when you pull my hair, ‘s no fair,” and as you’re whimpering loudly, chewing on the skin of your arm—you end up finishing after a while.

the moment you do, you end up squirting a bit. it comes out in a tiny trickle—gojo’s face lights up as you’re struggling to keep your thighs open for him but he spreads them further apart for you anyway. “shit,” he exhales with a cunning grin, that smug expression you oh so desperately wanted to wipe off. “i didn’t know my girl was a squirter. maybe you should get struck by that love curse again,” and he licks against your pussy for a final time before spanking your folds. “let’s do that again. wanna get you real soaked tonight. i always like my girls messy.”

☆ TOJI FUSHIGURO

“no way you woke me up just so i could fuck you.” toji deadpans, bringing a hand towards the hair that sticks against his chest, scratching it for four long seconds. two arched brows of his curl into a furrow before he grunts. “i was havin’ a good ass dream too.”

“toji i’m gonna die,” you protest, tugging at his boxers. “i searched up the symptoms a- and it said that if i don’t do anything um— sexual related, ‘m gonna die within four hours.”

“oh boo,” he rolls his eyes, and you moan once you feel the roughness of his palm squeeze against your ass. toji pulls you close to him, so close that you could feel the heat of his body radiate against your own. so close that you could smell his natural manly scent. the strong manly musk, his scent alone had you throbbing right inside of your laced little panties. in a groggy voice, toji leans in to suck against your neck, earning out a mewling whimper from you. “fine, but don’t be surprised if i don’t let ya cum. my dream was really fuckin’ good.”

knowing toji—he was probably dreaming about being a millionaire, but anyway . .

he happily helps with your little issue by fucking you thoroughly into the sheets. harp hips of his penetrate into you again and again. you whine, bratty cacophonous whimpers spew out of your lips as you cling onto the milky, pale sheets. it’s probably been hours, the entire room has a candied aroma of pure desire and intimacy. toji groans as your cunt clamps against him tightly. two scarred hands of grab ahold of your waist before pressing it deeper against him. “mhm, ‘s it workin’ baby? needed a good fuck, baby?”

“y- yes,” you moan, strands of hair almost blinding your eyesight by how it continues to get in your face from the quick paced movement. skin against skin—skin tight. everything felt heavenly. toji’s husky pitched groans only makes you throb even more before he leans right up closer against your ass. “harder, fuck me, ‘toji. pleaseplease. make me cum.”

with his own heavy huffs of breath escaping, he gets all the way up close before raising a foot to press down against your head.

a shrieking gasp comes out of you at the angle. he’s buried so deep now that your pussy stings and smacks from his sack. his hefty sack that hangs. kissing his teeth, toji rolls his eyes back from how good you squeeze around him before groaning once more. “goddamn, y’er a little slut. wakin’ me up for dick, ‘oughta edge the shit out of ya,” and he grabs a nice amount of your hair, making you raise up. the soft, delicate wool of his sock still glides against your skin and you moan from his rude, overzealous tempo. “yeah? should the baby girl cum, or nah. personally, i‘d say no. you were bein’ a brat. 'love curse' my ass.”

you try to sit up but he only pushes you back down, your face smushed against your fluffed out pillow.

“nuh uh, sit the fuck back down,” he snarls, swatting a soft palm against your ass. you’re so close—you moan again as he deepens his hits. his rhythm that was once so decent was now sloppy and merciless. toji’s fat mushroom tip thwacks and thwacks against your clit so much that you could feel it’s delicious curve. it’s a tickling sensation if anything—but the last thing you were doing was laughing. as he tightens his grip a bit, resuming to rock his hips into you, he purrs against your ear in a throaty chuckle. “heh, oh so you can’t speak now? thought ya wanted me to go harder?”

“i- i do,” you try to explain, but it only forms into a sweet meaningless babble. “fuuuuck, ‘s good but take your foot off me, toji. your sock is um.. wet.”

“your sock is um wet,” he mocks you before lowering his foot. you cringe as he pitches his voice—you don’t even sound like that. as he’s still having you arched over, watching as you then hide your face into the crook of your elbow. with a final smack against your ass, he pulls out before letting off an offended, tch. “ungrateful ass.”

☆ GETO SUGURU

“rough day?” geto slyly smiles, watching you struggle to walk into his room. he locks his phone to get a good look at you. you’re heaving insane amounts of breaths, pant after pant squeezing out of your full lungs as if you’d just got down with a marathon. “aw, let me guess. that love curse again? baby, you really gotta stop gettin’ yourself in these positions. it’s silly.”

“suguru,” you whine, collapsing right into his lap. the way you flop onto him was so cute—you’re met with a smug grin and dark, inky eyes that’s taking in all of your features. always so pretty. he smells so good, it’s driving you crazy. “wanna ride you.”

“you always ride me,” he strokes your chin, staring into your eyes lovingly. his hair was pinned into a unkempt yet attractive ponytail. geto gingerly wraps a hand around your throat before whispering against your lips. “so it is that lust curse again, isn’t it? careful. startin’ to think you’re doing this on purpose just to ride me, pretty girl.”

it works every time though—because within minutes later, you’re riding geto on the plump sofa. he was trying to multitask, trying to send an important email but your hips always snapped him back to reality. eventually, his phone slips out of his hand. geto groans at the way your rhythm’s got him in such a chokehold. you’re unhinged, playing with your tits right in front of him that he can’t help but feel against your soft mounds himself.

“s-shit,” he hisses, your body forever an image embedded in his mind that he couldn’t erase. your pussy squelches against his cock and you feel him reach such deep angles all at once. his girth was enough to make your mouth salivate with slippery saliva. mouthwatering, the upward curve of geto’s dick has you going stupid, you’re whining constantly before you lightly shove him back against the cushioned furniture. “slow down, you’re gonna make me c-cum quick, baby, goddamn.”

perhaps your hips alone were the enemy all along, you’re barely giving him a chance to breathe and it turns him onever more. how feral you were—he could see how blown and needy your pupils were. as you wrap your arms around him, still jerking your hips forward, you pull him into a deep, passionate kiss. geto groans right into your mouth, it’s guttural. playfully, you twirl a finger around his hair as you’re fucking him. geto’s hand placement was against your hips, long pretty lashes fluttering every few seconds before he gasps. “baby,” he huffs, a slippery strand of spit leaving your lips as he tugs away. with half-lidded eyes and a flushed face, he moans again, yet this time it’s louder, a bit more pitchy. “i’m gonna c- cum, shit your hips is gonna kill me.“

“don’t waste it p- please,” you plead into his ear, the soft breaths of your voice that exit from your throat makes his dick twitch inside you. you’re still grinding against him, the tempo was so speedy that it gives geto whiplash. he was truly witnessing his life flash before his eyes—all thanks to your precious pussy, featuring your crazed hips. he hardly doesn’t know where to roam his hands—but they remain glued to your waist, attempting to guide you closer. “inside, sugu. spill it ‘n me, make a mess.”

groaning—his head tosses itself back in rapture as he falls into his lewd, anticipated embrace. he’s feeling hot and warm just like you. the warmth your pussy provided him makes him bite his lip.

“fuck, fuck, f-fuuuuck,” he swears once you suddenly pick your hips back up. after a few seconds once you gradually slow down—he’s shooting a warm load of cum into you. so gooey, it fills you to the brim and you slow down finally, still swaying against him to make sure it’s fully plugged full. it pours into you all at once, a whopping amount of seed that’s so much that it oozes between the crevices of your thighs. you rode geto so good that he doesn’t even notice the sofa had ended up collapsing. the sound was short and concise—he’s moaning once you wrap a hand around his throat, feeling the vibrations of his grunts go against your fingertips. “phew,” he swallows, still dumping a good amount of ropy amounts inside before he goes limp against the couch. geto still has your hips in place before he’s gasping for short collected breaths. with glossy eyes, he notices your needy smug grin, not showing one ounce of fatigue. “again, huh? fuck, let me catch my breath first baby, you’re fuckin’ dangerous.”

[littlelamy]

boat scene with rafe

requested by @gibson-g1rl l <3 😘 part 2

credits: oysters png from @saizun , and amazing gifs from @rafeyscurtainbangs

The boat rocks beneath you as you step toward where Rafe sits bound against the wall, looking both furious and oddly vulnerable. You catch his eye as you enter the room, holding a small packet of aspirin and a plate of food. His eyebrows lift slightly in surprise, but his cocky smirk returns almost immediately.

“Look who’s here to take care of me,” he drawls, his voice dripping with that familiar teasing tone, though there’s a flicker of genuine relief in his eyes.

“Don’t flatter yourself.” You roll your eyes, but there’s no real bite to your words. You set the plate down next to him and hand over the aspirin, glancing away to avoid letting him see the small, reluctant smile tugging at your lips. “Thought you’d need this. Can’t have you passing out on us.”

Rafe takes the aspirin from your hand, holding your gaze just a little too long before he swallows it dry. “I’ll admit, I wasn’t expecting room service,” he murmurs, eyes never leaving yours. “Didn’t know you cared this much.”

You scoff, folding your arms. “You should know by now I don’t want you dead, Rafe,” you say with a wry smile. “But don’t expect this to become a habit.”

He chuckles, the sound low and a little smug. “We’ll see about that,” he says, shifting against the ropes, clearly enjoying the attention. He nods toward the plate. “So, what—are you gonna feed me, too?”

You blink, taken aback by his nerve, and then raise an eyebrow, letting sarcasm color your voice. “Would you like me to? Or do you think you can manage?” You narrow your eyes, daring him to keep pushing.

Rafe’s smirk wavers, his cheeks turning the faintest shade of pink as he quickly looks away. “I can handle it,” he mutters, clearly flustered but trying to play it off. “Don’t get carried away.”

“Oh, don’t worry, I wasn’t planning to.” But you can’t help the grin tugging at your lips as you settle back, watching as he tries to pick up a piece of food from the plate with an awkward, fumbling grip, struggling against the restraints.

You stifle a laugh as he tries to eat without making a mess, and he catches you smiling, his jaw tightening. “Something funny?” he snaps, though there’s a hint of embarrassment in his tone.

You shrug, biting back your amusement. “Nothing at all. You look perfectly in control.”

Rafe grumbles under his breath, focusing intently on his food to avoid meeting your eyes. Another wave rocks the boat, causing you to steady yourself against the wall, and you look back to find him watching you, something almost like concern flickering in his gaze.

“Be careful,” he mutters, his voice softer, dropping the bravado for a split second.

For a moment, you just look at each other, the storm outside and the chaos around you fading into the background. His cocky expression softens, and he gives you a small, grateful nod. He won’t say it, but you know he’s thankful.

“Thanks,” he says quietly, his gaze lingering on you a beat longer.

“Yeah, yeah,” you reply, crossing your arms as you lean back against the wall. “Just don’t make me regret it.”

Rafe grins, his cockiness slipping back into place, but now it’s warmer, less of a wall and more like something shared just between the two of you. As he reaches for another bite, he murmurs, “Wouldn’t dream of it.” And as much as you try to resist, you can’t help the small, reluctant smile that crosses your face in response.

The storm hits hard, the boat rocking violently beneath your feet. You’re barely able to keep your balance as you make your way through the narrow, dimly lit hallway. Waves crash against the hull, each one sending a jolt of panic through your body. But there’s something else clawing at you—something that won’t let you ignore the sound of Rafe’s voice, sharp and desperate, calling from another room.

“Come on! Cut me loose!” His voice cracks, the desperation in it too raw to ignore.

You freeze, breath catching in your throat. Rafe. He’s still tied up. The ropes are holding him in place as the boat teeters precariously on the brink of capsizing. You can hear Pope and Cleo yelling from the kitchen, their voices overlapping, trying to convince you to leave it alone. To save yourself. But you can’t. Not this time.

You grip the knife tighter, your fingers cold and trembling from the anxiety rising in your chest. There’s no time to think. Rafe’s call keeps echoing in your head, and that voice—the urgency, the fear—pushes you forward. You make your way toward the room where you heard him last, the sound of the storm growing louder as it pounds against the sides of the boat.

Before you even get to the door, Cleo’s voice rings out. “No! Y/N, No!”

Pope’s voice follows, sharper. “Y/N, stop don’t let him out!”

But you keep moving. You don’t stop. You can’t. There’s no way you’re going to let Rafe stay there, helpless and bound, when you can do something about it.

When you reach the door, you shove it open, and the sight of Rafe tied up against the far wall hits you with a jolt. He’s slumped slightly, sweat slicking his forehead, his face drawn with exhaustion and frustration. His eyes snap to you, and for a split second, they soften with something almost like relief.

“Cut me loose, come on!” He says again, his voice strained, but louder this time, more insistent.

His hands are bound tightly in thick ropes, his legs spread out uncomfortably beneath him. The ropes seem too thick for him to break on his own. You can see the tension in his body, the way his muscles twitch from the strain, and the panic that flickers behind his gaze. There’s no time to waste. You don’t think twice. You crouch in front of him, the knife in your hand glinting in the low light.

Rafe watches you, his chest rising and falling unevenly. “Don’t make me regret this,” you murmur, feeling your heart beat faster as you cut into the thick rope that’s holding him in place. Your hands are shaking, the knife slipping slightly as the boat tilts again, but you focus on the task at hand.

“Come on, hurry up.” His words are clipped, desperate, and you push aside the nervous tightness in your chest as you work faster, cutting the ropes.

You’re close enough to feel the heat radiating off his body, a stark contrast to the cold, wet air from the storm. The boat groans as another wave slams against it, and Rafe’s eyes flicker to the window, then back to you.

“Please,” he breathes, and it’s that one word that makes everything else fade away—the roaring storm, the panicked shouting from the others, the ticking clock of time slipping away.

The last thread gives way with a sharp cut, and Rafe’s hands are free. His arms immediately reach for you, grabbing hold of your wrist with a surprising amount of force, pulling himself upright.

“Thanks,” he mutters, his voice rough, but there’s something deeper in it, something like a sense of vulnerability you’ve never seen from him before.

You don’t have time to say anything, to wonder if he’s really thankful or if he’s just grateful to be free. The boat shudders violently, and you both stumble as the hull groans beneath you. The wind howls outside, whipping against the windows, and you know there’s not much time before things get worse.

Rafe doesn’t wait for an invitation. He grabs your arm, pulling you toward the narrow hallway. “We need to get to somewhere safer,” he says, his tone not leaving any room for an argument.

You’re both moving quickly, though the boat keeps pitching wildly. The wind screeches, and water sloshes against the floorboards. Every step feels like a risk, like the boat could capsize at any moment. But Rafe doesn’t let go of your arm. He pulls you behind him, guiding you toward a small corner near the engine room, the only place that might offer even the slightest bit of shelter.

You slide into the corner, pressing yourself against the cold wall. It’s not the safest place, but in the madness of the storm, it’s all you have. Rafe follows, wedging himself beside you. There’s barely enough room for the two of you, but you don’t mind. You’re not focused on that right now. All you can think about is how the boat is rocking, how you’re both on the brink of disaster, and how Rafe’s body is so close to yours.

He leans into you, his breathing ragged and uneven. For a moment, he pulls away, but then his hand is at your waist, his grip tightening. It’s almost like he’s afraid you might slip away from him. He presses his body closer, his face now inches from yours, and you can feel the rapid beat of his heart.

Rafe places his head on your neck, his face buried in the crook of your shoulder. The warmth of his breath on your skin is both comforting and unsettling, but you don’t pull away. Instead, you place your hand on his back, the pressure of your touch grounding both of you as the storm rages on around you.

“You’re okay,” you whisper, though you’re not sure if you’re trying to reassure him or yourself.

Rafe doesn’t respond, but you feel his muscles relax, his tense body unwinding little by little. He’s not just holding onto you for stability; it feels like he’s holding onto you for something more. You can’t explain it, but there’s something in the way he leans into you, something raw and vulnerable that you’ve never seen before.

taglist: @namelesslosers @princessslutt @averyoceanblvd @iknowdatsrightbih @starkeysprincess @sixrosberg @anamiad00msday @ivysprophecy @wearemadeofstardust0 @kissrotten @rafesangelita @sstargirln

[wendichester]

Hi hi! I love your supernatural content and want to come forward with a sweet little request. 💕 Don't forget to drink and eat enough throughout your amazing work too!

What about Dean x Reader who is into cars and participates in illegal races / drift contests but is actually super shy and sweet outside of competition? 🤭 I think about this constantly! Idk she could drive one of the nissan silvias... Anyways!

Have a lovely day! ♥️

✩ ° 𓏲⋆ ready, set, race .ᐟ

summary. an illegal race gets you more than some much needed prize money.

pairing. dean winchester x reader

wordcount. 964

notes. i am honestly obsessed with this scenario. illegal races, dean winchester, ugh! make it real

The meet is buzzing with energy, a crowd gathered around the two cars lined up at the makeshift starting line. Your sleek Nissan Silvia S15 gleams under the glow of neon lights, its jet-black body a stark contrast to the classic midnight beauty of the Impala.

Dean leans casually against his car, arms crossed, a cocky smirk plastered across his face. He’s been talking a big game all night, and you’ve let him, content to let your driving do the talking.

“You sure about this, sweetheart?” Dean drawls, his voice dripping with faux concern. “That little import might look pretty, but it’s got nothin’ on American muscle.”

You cock an eyebrow, sauntering over to him with a sway in your hips that you know he’s watching. “Oh, Dean,” you say, leaning just close enough to invade his space. “The only thing that’s gonna look better than my car tonight is your face when I take your money.”

He chuckles, the sound low and rough, and it sends a shiver down your spine. “Big talk for someone about to eat my dust.”

You tilt your head, giving him a once-over. “Hope you’re not planning to cry when I leave you in the rearview.”

The crowd whistles and murmurs at the exchange, the tension between you two palpable. Sam, standing off to the side, shakes his head with an amused grin.

“Rules are simple,” the race organizer interrupts. “Quarter-mile drag, straight shot. Winner takes the pot—two grand. Loser… well, better luck next time.”

Dean pulls his keys from his pocket, twirling them on his finger. “Ladies first.”

You smirk and toss your jacket to Sam before slipping into the driver’s seat of your Silvia. The car purrs to life beneath your hands, and you rev the engine, the sound sharp and aggressive. The Impala roars in response, and you glance over to see Dean giving you a mock salute.

“Ready to get smoked?” you shout through your open window.

Dean grins. “Keep dreaming, baby.”

The flag drops, and you’re off.

The Silvia launches forward with precision, its lightweight frame and turbocharged engine giving you an edge off the line. Dean’s Impala keeps pace, its raw power making it a formidable opponent, but the twists and turns of the course are where you shine.

You hit the first corner hard, drifting flawlessly as the crowd erupts in cheers. Dean stays close, but you know the Impala’s bulk can’t match your speed through the curves.

By the time the finish line comes into view, you’re half a car length ahead. The Silvia screams across the line, and you slam on the brakes, the thrill of victory coursing through you.

Dean pulls up beside you, his expression a mix of disbelief and begrudging admiration.

“Well?” you ask, stepping out of your car with a triumphant grin. “Still think American muscle’s got me beat?”

Dean climbs out of the Impala, shaking his head with a rueful smile. “Alright, you got me. But don’t let it go to your head.”

“Oh, it’s absolutely going to my head,” you say, stepping closer to him. “But don’t feel too bad. It’s not your fault the Impala can’t keep up.”

He chuckles, his gaze dropping briefly to your lips before snapping back to your eyes. “You know, you’re kind of infuriating when you’re cocky.”

“And yet,” you say, leaning in just enough to make his breath hitch, “you can’t seem to stay away.”

Dean swallows hard, his smirk faltering for a split second before returning in full force. “You’re trouble, you know that?”

You open your mouth to deliver another snarky comeback, but the look in his eyes stops you short. There’s something different now—less cocky bravado, more vulnerability. It catches you off guard, and for a second, the adrenaline pumping through your veins shifts into something warmer.

“Maybe,” you say, the teasing edge in your voice softening. “What’s it to you?”

Dean steps closer, his confidence faltering just enough for you to notice. He scratches the back of his neck, glancing away briefly before meeting your eyes again. “What if I said I liked trouble?”

Your breath hitches and you find yourself a blushing mess.

“Look, I don’t usually do this kind of thing—hell, I don’t even know if you’d be interested,” he continues, his voice dropping a notch, “but how about dinner? You, me, no cars, no crowds—just us.”

The boldness you’d felt all night vanishes in an instant, replaced by a rush of heat to your cheeks. You fumble for words, suddenly hyper-aware of how close he is, how his green eyes are fixed entirely on you.

“I—uh…” You clear your throat, looking anywhere but at him. “You’re asking me out?”

“Yeah,” he says, and his lips quirk into that damn smirk again, though there’s an unmistakable sincerity in his tone. “What do you say?”

Your confidence falters, but only for a moment. You finally meet his gaze, a shy smile tugging at your lips. “I say… I’d like that.”

Dean grins, the kind of grin that makes your knees feel weak. “Good. Friday night, then. I’ll pick you up.”

“Deal,” you whisper, barely trusting your voice.

He chuckles softly, brushing a strand of hair from your face. “Didn’t think I’d ever see you get shy, sweetheart. It’s kinda cute.”

You swat at him half-heartedly, but the warmth in your chest only grows. “Don’t push your luck, Winchester.”

Dean laughs, stepping back toward his Impala with a wink. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”

As he climbs into his car and drives off, you can’t stop the grin spreading across your face. The crowd is thinning out, the adrenaline of the race fading, but all you can think about is the way Dean looked at you—like you were the only thing that mattered.

want be part of the taglist.ᐣ ⋆.˚ ★— @iloveeveryoneyoureamazing ⋆ @deans-daydream ⋆ @ariasong11 ⋆ @ambiguous-avery ⋆ @krabog ⋆ @itsdearapril ⋆ @nymphet-quenn ⋆ @bluemerakis ⋆ @titsout4jackles ⋆ @lyarr24 ⋆ @hauntedrose555 ⋆ @chevroletdean ⋆ @dulcescorderitas ⋆ @blackmarketfruitrollups ⋆ @impala67rollingthroughtown ⋆ @rulesareshadesofgrey ⋆ @nervoussystemss ⋆ @daryls-luvrr ⋆ @defnot-svnshine

[awxcoffeexno]

ain't gon' ever deserve you

mutant!loganhowlett x human!reader one shot

fic masterlist | nsfw claw worship

summary: logan has a nightmare and hurts you by accident - or - the one where you worship his claws the way they deserve.

content: mostly family-friendly claw worship. logan believes in the animal accusations but reader fixes it. reader is human, logan and reader have an established and v loving relationship, lots of reassurance and comforting for logan.

warnings: logan has nightmares, mentions of blood, logan self-hate, family-friendly knife play??????.

word count: 2.1k

a/n: listen, claw worship has been on my mind for a looooooong time. I'm too chicken to put up any of my nsfw writing yet so here's an sfw version with affirmations for poor baby lo-lo. also this is super inspired by logan and kayla's relationship and even uses some quotes from them.

you're deep asleep, dreaming of everything and nothing when you feel the sudden sharp sting in your arm.

eyes flying open, you open your mouth to hiss in pain but logan's lips are at your ear, snarling and grunting in his sleep again.

you look down to find his claws out, the metal tips digging into your arm. you exhale sharply, watching the warm blood seep down your arm and onto the new white sheets.

"no! n– no!" he growls, and you're forced to bite your lip as you try to pull away from his vice grip. when that doesn't work, you sink your nails into his arm.

"logan–"

"victor, NO!" he screams and sits up, yanking his claws from your arm and stabbing at the air in front of him.

victor creed. logan's brother and the bane of his existence. victor who haunts his dreams every single night, victor whose name you can never forget, victor who is now the reason logan's hurt you.

you sit up with him, aching for him, wrapping your arms around his torso. the burning pain in your arm an afterthought, you hear him swallow and gently let out a breath. he's sticky with sweat and the dry radiator air in the room isn't helping, the moon glowing through your glass walls, creating a halo around his head.

"nightmare." you state, letting him catch his breath and take in his surroundings.

he nods even though what you said wasn't a question but a statement. he twists around and pulls you into his lap, hugging you like he does near every night – chin tucked into your shoulder, arms wrapped all the way around your torso. he smells of soap and cigar smoke and the faintest hint of your shampoo. you smile to yourself and press a kiss to his hair.

"you're so cute." you mutter and a small smile spreads across his lips.

"cute?" he repeats, amused. "that's new." he pulls you closer, further down his lap and you can feel his heartbeat start to steady again.

"you used my shampoo again, and don't you deny it this time."

he scowls at you but lets you kiss him anyway. "reminds me of you," he sighs when he realises you won't stop until he admits it.

"but i'm right here," you giggle, running your thumb over the shell of his ear.

he opens his mouth to explain further but that's when he smells it. the blood he's drawn from your arm in his nightmare-fuelled anger at victor. his jaw tightens as he looks for the source of blood, finding three uniform slices on the outside of your forearm.

"no," he gasps, a thousand emotions crossing his eyes.

you try to wiggle your arm out of his grip, the blood running down your arm now. "hey... i'm okay."

"like fuck you are," he snarls, angry at himself.

how could he have possibly hurt you?! was this a thing now?? was he a danger to you even in his sleep?! god, he'll have to put you to sleep and then figure out a way to declaw himself. maybe if he just slices the back of his palms open–

"james..." you break him out of his thoughts, hand on his cheek. "baby, i'm okay. really. it looks worse than it feels."

"i'm going to rip these out." he whispers, holding his fists up, the back of his palms facing you. his words are as much a promise to you as a command to himself.

you grab his fists and glare at him. he blinks at your expression, looking at you over his hands.

"don't you dare say anything of the sort. these are a gift."

"a gift," he scoffs, "you can return a gift."

"these are a gift," you repeat sternly. "and i will not let you do anything to them."

he opens his mouth to protest but you aren't done. how dare he even think of hurting himself, of declawing himself when you love his claws as much as you love every last part of him.

you run your fingers over the back of his palms and whisper, "take them out."

"sweetheart..."

"take them out, my love" you repeat, kissing his knuckles because you know it hurts every time he does.

he carefully and very very slowly bares them and you look at him from between the blades.

not breaking eye contact, you lean in and press a soft kiss to the base of the middle claw on his right hand. you catch him shuddering and your eyes widen in surprise.

"you felt that?"

you can see him redden even in the dark. "'course i did," he grunts.

"what does it feel like?" you ask, fascinated. everyday you learn something new about him and it never fails to delight you.

you kiss the base of another claw on the other hand and see him inhale sharply.

he groans deeply, humming to come up with the right words. "like... you're stroking every nerve in me to life."

that makes you sit up on your haunches and wrap your fingers around his wrists. he freezes, bracing himself to yank the claws back in the second he thinks you might hurt yourself on the sharp ends. you carefully lick along the length of the claw between his pinky and ring finger on his right hand, making him exhale shakily.

"tryna kill me, sugar?" he says through gritted teeth, every muscle in his body tense.

"trying to show you how much i love your claws, lo. even if they hurt sometimes."

you loop your right hand between both of his, gently pressing the tip of your thumb against the sharp end of a claw. you run your finger up the blade, making him whine in protest as you draw blood.

his eyes implore you, pleading, but you simply take your hand up to his mouth, pressing your bleeding thumb against his lips. he relents, sucking it into his warm mouth and licking it clean.

"logan?" you whisper and he hums around your thumb.

despite the heat in your core, pooling between your legs, you need him to hear this. you'll have time to fulfil that need later.

"every part of you means everything to me. but your claws, especially your claws, have the most special place in my heart. they protect me. they make you feel good. and most of all, they're fucking cool."

and that finally makes him crack a smile again.

"y'think so?"

"mhmm."

"c'mere." he says finally, pulling his claws back in and tugging you back into his lap.

he makes you straddle him and kisses you warmly. he looks into your eyes with such fondness, it squeezes your heart. carefully he pulls his first claw out on his right hand and uses it to gently push your hair out of your eyes. your eyes flutter shut in response, leaning into his metal touch.

he brushes the back of the claw across your cheek and your lips part prettily for him. the air doesn't feel so thick anymore, the quiet humming of the refrigerator in the kitchen not overwhelming him the way it was when he snapped awake.

ever so carefully, pushing his own boundaries, he turns his wrist and pushes the flat of his claw onto your tongue. it's warm and tastes of him, salty and musky and like metal.

"that okay for you, pretty girl?" he mumbles and you can hear the strain in his voice. he's terrified but he so badly wants to be brave for you.

you wrap your lips around the claws and suck softly in response, drawing a groan of pleasure from him.

he shudders beneath you, every inch of him tense and trembling with restraint. you slide your tongue along the metal, tracing the edge of his claw with reverence, savoring the taste of him.

logan’s breath catches in his throat, and you feel the warmth of his exhale ghost across your face. his other hand, free of the adamantium blades, finds its way to your waist, gripping you tightly.

"god," he breathes out, voice rough and filled with a raw vulnerability you hear only at night. "you have no idea what you do to me."

you slowly release his claw from your mouth, letting it slide out with a deliberate slowness that has him biting back another groan. his eyes are locked on you, dark with need.

you reach up, cupping his face with your now clean thumb, and brush your lips against his in a featherlight kiss. "i think i do," you whisper against his mouth. "i want you to feel how much i love every part of you, logan. even the parts that scare you."

his claws retract with a soft snikt, and he wraps his arms around you, pulling you impossibly closer.

"you're something else, darlin'," he murmurs into your hair, pressing a kiss to the crown of your head. you can feel the smile playing on his lips. "you make me feel... whole."

you nestle into his embrace, feeling the steady rhythm of his heartbeat against your chest. "and you make me feel safe," you reply, closing your eyes and letting the furnace heart of his presence envelop you. "always."

you feel his grip tighten, his hand trembling slightly against your waist. he's always been the warrior, the weapon, the animal, but here in your arms, he's just logan, just a man who’s been through more pain than anyone should endure.

"people see the claws and think i’m nothing but a beast," he murmurs, his voice thick with self-doubt. "like i’m more metal than man. they look at me and all they see is the damage i can do."

you pull back just enough to look into his eyes, your hands framing his face. he tries to look away, but you won’t let him. you press a soft kiss to his brow, then his cheek, and finally, to the corner of his mouth.

"they don’t make you an animal," you whisper, your voice even and filled with conviction. "they make you strong. they’re not just weapons, they’re part of what makes you you."

his breath hitches at your words, and you feel him struggle against the years of conditioning, the years of being told that he’s nothing more than a killing machine. but you won’t let those words hold power over him anymore.

you reach down, gently taking his right hand in yours. with care, you press a kiss to each knuckle, feeling the warmth of his skin under your lips. then, you look up at him and slowly, deliberately, coax his claws out again.

you run your fingers lightly over the metal, tracing the curves and edges with the same care you’d give to a delicate piece of art.

logan watches you, his expression shifting from uncertainty to something deeper, something like awe. "you don’t see me like everyone else does," he says, almost to himself.

"no," you agree, leaning in to press a kiss to the tip of one of his claws. "i see you, logan. the real you. and what i see is a man who’s fought for so long to protect the people he loves, even when it’s cost him everything. your claws, they’re not just about hurting or fighting. they’re about protecting. they’re about survival. and they’re about who you have been for so long."

his chest rises and falls with each breath, the tension slowly easing from his body as your words sink in. for once, he doesn’t feel like an animal. he feels like a man, just a man. and it's nice.

"besides," you say, tone lightening. "so you really think I'm such a baby i can't handle three little cuts?"

you both know you're underplaying it and though he would never admit it in the day, the moonlight across his face betrays his grateful expression. it's easier to believe that he hasn't hurt you too much when you're saying it yourself.

you lower his hand, resting it against your chest, over your heart.

he swallows hard, holding you as if he’s afraid to let go. "ain't gon' ever deserve you," he whispers, his voice thick.

"you deserve everything," you murmur back, holding him just as tightly. "and i’m going to keep reminding you of that, every day."

for a moment, he’s silent, just holding you close. then, in a voice that’s barely more than a whisper, he says, "you almost make me feel human, darlin’."

you pull back just enough to kiss him again, only because you know he'd much rather feel than hear. your kiss is slow and tender, letting him feel the truth in your touch.

he doesn’t say anything more, but the way he kisses you back, the way he holds you, tells you everything you need to know.

he'll be okay. you'll make him okay. you gently push him to lie down and rest your head on his chest.

you love him, you love how he wants so badly to believe you, and most of all, you fucking love his claws.

--

this stemmed from a very nsfw thought™ but here we are, all warm and fuzzy. a mostly non-angsty fic is new for me!!

hope you liked this x

love, d <3

--

edit: i wrote an nsfw claw worship fic too 🤠🤝🏽 >> unholy

[coffee-and-geto]

waxing time with your boyfriend. ryomen sukuna (sfw)

cw: fluff, crack, sukuna is too confident.

After yet another groan of pain, you rip off the strip of hard wax from your inner thigh. “Fuck…” you curse.

The wax has gripped all your hairs well, and you raise an amused eyebrow, holding the strip up to the light to observe the satisfying bulb pulled out from the root. Waxing has always been a monthly routine for you, a way to maintain your body to feel good with smooth, soft skin — and not to please your boyfriend who clearly doesn't care about your body hair.

And you thank him for that.

Sukuna is not the kind of boyfriend who complains or cares about your appearance. While many partners refuse to have sex with their girlfriends over body hair, knowing that Sukuna is not one of them soothes your nerves when his angry/irritated side shows. You even accept closing your eyes when he yells from the other end of the apartment that he's hungry and wants his “woman” to make him some food.

With a smirk, you stir a wooden stick to mix and then take some more wax from your wax warmer. The next strip is inevitably painful, located along the bikini line. The particularly sensitive and thin skin around this area never fails to elicit a squeal of pain when you rip the hairs from this spot.

And that’s exactly what happens.

Your sharp cry of pain catches the attention of your boyfriend, who stomps into the room, growling. He leans against the doorway and crosses his tattooed arms over his chest. “What is it now, woman?”

“I rustle up a magic potion,” you reply tartly.

Without leaving the room once, you finish waxing your bikini line, one hand armed with a cold compress pressed against the irritated, slightly reddened areas.

Sukuna steps over the distance between you and lowers his nose towards your wax warmer to sniffle it. “This is really a stupid thing humans have invented.” He rolls his eyes.

“Well, this ‘thing’ hurts a lot,” you clarify, hopping in place because the irritation annoys you, and the best way you’ve found to cope is to hop around to distract yourself.

“Pfff. You’re just an overdramatic crybaby. It can’t hurt that much.”

Your eye twitches and a vein bulges on your temple. “Oh yeah?”

A few minutes later...

“THIS IS SORCERY! GET IT OFF ME!” Sukuna yells, one foot propped on the edge of the bed with a long pink wax strip along his hairy calf.

On your side, you’ve been laughing uncontrollably for a good five minutes, tears in your eyes and your stomach almost painfully contracted from laughing.

“STOP LAUGHING, WOMAN! I’LL KILL YOU!”

And as you’re about to pull the wax strip, you grip the lip with your fingertips to yank it off sharply.

Sukuna lets out a scream as high-pitched as a little girl’s or a bat’s while your even louder laughter echoes in the room.

[luv-lock]

𓈒ㅤׂㅤ 𓇼 ࣪ SOFT LIPS 𓈒ㅤׂㅤ⭒⠀

☆⁠ PAIRING : Robins x Fem Reader

☆⁠ SYNOPSIS : When They Kiss You For The First Time.

☆⁠ CHARACTERS : Dick Grayson, Jason Todd, 90s Tim Drake, Damian Wayne.

☆⁠ NOTES : Teenagers in love. English is not my first language. Hope you enjoy!

⎯ DICK GRAYSON

The carnival lights reflected in his bright blue eyes as he held your hand, weaving through the crowd. His grip was steady, comforting, like he’d never let go. You couldn’t help but laugh when he insisted on winning the biggest stuffed animal at the ring toss—something he accomplished on his second throw, much to the vendor’s surprise. “Ta-da!” Dick grinned, presenting the oversized bear with a dramatic bow. “For the lady.” “Wow, my knight in shining armor,” you teased, hugging the plushie close. “How lucky am I?” “Pretty lucky,” he said with a playful smirk. But then his expression softened, his free hand brushing a strand of hair out of your face. “But not as lucky as me.” You opened your mouth to retort, but before you could, Dick leaned in, his lips brushing against yours in a sweet, tender kiss. The world seemed to fade away, the carnival noise replaced by the rapid thumping of your heart. When he pulled back, his cheeks were slightly flushed, and he was grinning like an idiot. “So…do you like it?” he asked nervously. “Yeah,” you breathed, still dazed. “I like it.”

⎯ JASON TODD

Jason wasn’t one for grand romantic gestures—at least, that’s what he’d always claimed. But here you were, sitting with him on his motorcycle under a clear night sky, the city far behind you. The stars above seemed brighter out here, but nothing compared to the way Jason was looking at you. “You cold?” he asked, tugging his jacket off before you could even answer. He draped it over your shoulders, his hands lingering just a little longer than necessary. “Thanks,” you murmured, your voice barely audible over the sound of your own racing heartbeat. Jason sat back, running a hand through his hair, looking almost… nervous? It was rare to see him like this—unguarded, almost vulnerable. He opened his mouth, then closed it, clearly searching for the right words. Finally, he let out a frustrated huff and turned to you. “Screw it,” he muttered, leaning in quickly before you could react. His lips were warm and surprisingly soft against yours, and though the kiss was a little rough around the edges—just like him—it was perfect. When he pulled back, his cheeks were slightly flushed, and he avoided your gaze. “You… uh… okay with that?” he asked, his voice gruff but quieter than usual. You smiled, leaning in to kiss him again in response, and this time, he didn’t hesitate to kiss you back, his hands settling on your waist as if he’d been waiting for this forever.

⎯ 90s TIM DRAKE

Tim was pacing. Again. You watched him from your spot on the couch, biting back a laugh as he ran a hand through his messy black hair for the fifth time in as many minutes. His cheeks were pink, and he looked like he was trying to psych himself up for something monumental. “Tim, are you okay?” you finally asked, unable to contain your amusement any longer. “Yeah! Yeah, I’m fine,” he said quickly, stopping mid-pace to face you. He hesitated, his lips pressing together before he let out a deep breath. “Actually, no, I’m not fine. There’s something I’ve been meaning to do, and I’m kind of freaking out about it.” You tilted your head, curiosity piqued. “What is it?” Instead of answering, Tim crossed the room in three quick steps. Before you could even process what was happening, his hands were on your shoulders, and he kissed you. It was sweet, hesitant, like he was testing the waters, but it sent your heart soaring. When he pulled back, his face was redder than ever, and he wouldn’t meet your eyes. “I—uh—sorry if that was too sudden,” he stammered, scratching the back of his neck. “Tim,” you interrupted, grabbing his hand. When he finally looked at you, you leaned in and kissed him again, this time with a confidence that made him melt.

⎯ DAMIAN WAYNE

Damian didn’t do things halfway. When he decided he wanted to kiss you, he spent an embarrassing amount of time researching “perfect first kisses” to make sure it went exactly right. But now that the moment was here, all his carefully laid plans had flown out the window. The two of you were walking through the Wayne estate gardens, the moonlight casting a soft glow over the flowers. Damian had been quieter than usual, his hand brushing against yours every so often but never quite holding it. “Damian?” you said softly, stopping to look at him. “Is something wrong?” He turned to face you, his green eyes intense. “No, I just…” He hesitated, clenching and unclenching his fists. “I have something I wish to do, but I…lack experience in such matters.” You blinked, confused. “What do you mean?” Damian took a deep breath, stepping closer. “I wish to kiss you.” Your eyes widened, your heart racing. “Oh.” “May I?” he asked, his voice quieter now, almost vulnerable. You nodded, unable to form words. Slowly, Damian cupped your face in his hands, his movements surprisingly gentle. When his lips finally met yours, it was soft and careful, like he was afraid of hurting you. Despite his nervousness, the kiss was perfect, leaving you both slightly breathless. When he pulled back, he cleared his throat, his cheeks tinged pink. “That…was satisfactory, I hope?” You couldn’t help but laugh, leaning into him. “More than satisfactory, Damian.”

𝒍𝒖𝒗-𝒍𝒐𝒄𝒌 ☆ 𝒅𝒐𝒏'𝒕 𝒄𝒐𝒑𝒚, 𝒕𝒓𝒂𝒏𝒔𝒍𝒂𝒕𝒆 𝒐𝒓 𝒖𝒔𝒆 𝒂𝒏𝒚 𝒐𝒇 𝒎𝒚 𝒘𝒐𝒓𝒌𝒔 𝒉𝒆𝒓𝒆 𝒐𝒓 𝒂𝒏𝒚 𝒐𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒓 𝒘𝒆𝒃𝒔𝒊𝒕𝒆𝒔.

[ihavemanyhusbands]

Aqua Thermae

Also on AO3

Mini-Series Masterlist

Pairing: Lucius Verus Aurelius x Fem!Reader

WC: 2.3k words

Summary: After a particularly great victory in the arena, Lucius is rewarded with both a visit to a bathhouse and you -- a high-ranking courtesan -- to keep him company.

Warnings: SMUT (minors DNI this fic is 18+), reader is a courtesan (so SW), mentions of violence, shenanigans in and out of water, oral (f receiving), unprotected p in v, maybe some historical inaccuracies? forgive my sins please, and I thinkkk that's it but lmk if anything else!

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It had been a very long time since he’d been somewhere so luxurious. One of Rome’s finest bathhouses brought echoes of a comfortable life long past in the emperor’s palace. The marble pillars and fine mosaic floors, the detailed frescoes on the walls, and a large thermal pool all for himself.

Then other flashes of memory came to him – his mother’s kindness, his father’s armor, his uncle Comodus’ booming voice, and the cross of their swords…

He shucked his heavy breastplate and immediately felt the steam on his already sweat-slick skin. He let out a long sigh, closing his eyes for a moment. If only memories were so easy to get rid of, he might not always feel so tormented.

Lavishness was not something he had ever actively sought out, even if he was entitled to it as the direct descendant to the throne, but it was strange to think he was once accustomed to it. So much had happened since his forced departure, like a hundred lives melding into one.

Now, after a long, grueling fight with a mighty rhinoceros and its fierce rider, he wanted nothing more than to luxuriate in the warm water until his head swam and his muscles no longer ached so badly.

But then he noticed you standing on one side of the pool, a carafe of wine and a platter of dates, cheese, and nuts waiting on a low table next to you. You smiled as your eyes locked and Lucius’ back immediately straightened. Not much took him by surprise anymore, but this certainly had.

“Who are you?” He asked, curious rather than irritated at your presence.

You inclined your head genially. “You may call me whatever you like.”

He huffed in amusement, giving you a once-over. “Very well, then. And who sent you here?”

“Macrinus wanted nothing but the best company for you, his champion,” you said, serving him some wine. “I am to be your prize, along with this bath.”

His eyebrows lifted infinitesimally and he looked away in an almost bashful manner. His profile was proud and handsome, kissed by the sun and the strikes of his opponents. He had the face of a hero history would always remember – Or at least you would, certainly.

He was hesitant at first, unsure if he could trust anything that came from Macrinus. But as he took another look at you, your allure was too great for him not to be stirred. He could tread carefully, but he didn’t really want to deny himself pleasure, however fleeting it may be.

“I take it your company is quite coveted around here?” He asked, approaching to accept the wine you offered.

You nodded in response, fingertips barely brushing his as he took the glass. He held your gaze as he took a sip and you almost lost yourself in the infinite blue of his eyes. 

“By the likes of who?” He asked.

“Fierce gladiators such as yourself,” you said pointedly, unable to help your wandering eyes from finding the rippling muscles of his chest. “Merchants. Senators. Even emperor Geta has had his fill of me, but Caracalla was content with just watching.”

“Let us not speak of them now,” he said, shaking his head and grimacing at the names of the bloodthirsty twin emperors. “Within these walls, it is just the two of us. Nothing more.”

You nodded in understanding as he set down his glass on the table. “Would you like me to help you finish undressing?”

“I can manage,” he said, but now his eyes roamed appreciatively over your form, barely covered by a nearly see-through shift. “But I should like to help you, so you may join me.”

“How very kind of you,” you grinned, a salacious edge to your tone. 

He stepped even closer, reaching to unclasp the bronze brooch at your shoulder. The shift fell in a puddle of fabric at your feet, your body completely bare underneath. He let out a small, shuddering breath, fingers lightly tracing one of your clavicles.

For a moment, his expression was clouded as something crossed his mind. He stared off into the middle distance, but before he could really lose himself, you decided to intervene. You pulled him in, one hand cupping the back of his head as you went on your tiptoes and brought your lips close to his ear.

“Whatever you’d like to forget, I should really like to help you,” you whispered.

“Everything,” he rasped, one callused hand grasping your hip, while the other gently tilted your head to one side so your lips would meet his.

You tasted the sweet wine on his tongue and breathed him in. He smelled of the arena — blood and sand and sweat. It was not unfamiliar to you, but it was heady coming off of him, fueling your growing desire. 

Deftly, he managed to reach between your bodies to undo his pteruges and the loincloth underneath, both joining your shift on the floor. You felt the hardness of his own want against your lower abdomen, but he made no move to hasten things along. 

“Come now, let us wash the day off of you,” you said softly, pulling away to guide him into the water.

You waited by the edge for him to submerge himself first, watching the way his muscles worked as he walked. He had the grace of a warrior, as if poised for attack at any moment. You almost shudder at his deep groan of contentment, leaning back against the edge. Sliding closer, you massaged his broad shoulders to try and relieve some of his tension. His hand found your calf, caressing it. 

He closed his eyes and let himself be pampered, your touch transporting him far away, beyond even the shores of Ostia. He thought of your luminous eyes, the honeyed taste of your lips, and the smell of rose oil on your skin… What lovely comfort you offered. He wanted more of you and he suspected he would still not have enough.

If winning meant earning moments like this, with you, then he would never let himself be defeated in the arena. Or elsewhere, for that matter.

“My very own Venus Pompeiana,” he said softly, turning around so he could slot his body between your legs and face you. “The Gods seem to be favoring me greatly today.”

You cupped his face tenderly. “Something tells me they will continue to do so, too.”

He grinned, eyes heavy-lidded as they dropped to your lips. “Tell me, did you emerge from the seafoam, too?”

You laughed, delighted at his words. “Yes, I am salt, and brine, and pearls made flesh.”

His strong arms enveloped you, pulling you into the water with him. His lips found yours again and your legs wrapped around his hips, anchoring yourself to him. He submerged both of you for a moment and you chuckled against his lips when you resurfaced.

He kissed you like he might never be able to do so again — like a desperate lover forced to say goodbye before sailing off to war. Your fingers threaded through his damp curls, his beard tickling the lower half of your face. Your head swam and you wished you could spend an eternity there, in that moment.

You let his hands wander a little, getting bolder by the minute, but then you pulled away and playfully swam away from him. A safe distance away, you splashed some water at him, inciting him to give chase. 

He swam after you unhurriedly, his head low in the water so that you mostly saw his eyes. You could tell he was smiling from the way they creased at the corners, and you felt a thrill low in your spine as he drew closer. It reminded you of a crocodile pursuing its prey, biding its time before the right moment came along. 

A nervous giggle escaped you as you backed away, even daring to splash more water in his direction. He slipped under the water and for a delirious moment of uncertainty, you thought your heart might leap out of your chest. You searched for any sign of him, but the water was cloudy and concealed him well.

Suddenly, you felt the graze of teeth on your hip and you cried out, startled. Lucius re-emerged, shaking water from his hair and cornering you against the edge of the pool.

“Got you now,” he rasped, pressing you against him and bending to kiss your throat.

“Mercy,” you gasped, smiling wide as you amiably submitted to his attention. “Oh, please have mercy.”

He lifted your hips further so that his cock rested against your folds. You tried to move against him as best as the angle would allow and he helped guide you with one hand on your hip. 

“Mercy?” he said against your jaw, the deep timbre of his voice like music to your ears. “You see how you’ve got me? I’ve not had any mercy from you.”

You grinned slyly. “You thought I’d yield so easily?”

He hummed, pretending to think about it. “Never crossed my mind.”

“Actually, you make it very hard not to, as much as I like to play,” you conceded, biting your lip.

He chuckled, sucking in a breath through his teeth as he fought the urge to slip inside you and claim you for himself. But not yet, of course, as he wanted to play with you a little while longer too. 

“Shall we put you to the test?”

He lifted you out of the water and sat you back on the edge. With one broad palm on your sternum, he gently pushed you backward. Instinctively, your legs hiked up, but you let him be the one to spread them.

He let out a low groan at the sight, his gaze incandescent as it met yours. He kissed your calf, then the inside of your knee, and steadily progressed up your inner thigh as he propped himself half out of the water.

Your hips shifted as he got close to his target, but then he moved to your other leg, repeating the same torturously slow process. You propped up on your elbows to give him a slightly annoyed look and he grinned cheekily.

“How’s that for mercy?” He asked, but before you could respond, his head dipped and his tongue finally found where you were aching.

A breathy Oh escaped you as your back arched, fingers digging into his curls once more. He was just as skilled with his mouth as with a blade, easily finding the tenderest, most sensitive spots. He had you squirming on the tiled floors, the tip of his tongue tracing circular patterns on your clit.

“Gods,” he moaned, the taste of you only making him hungrier and greedier for more.

You tried to grind against his face, chasing the waves of pleasure that already crested over you. His beard added just enough friction to create another layer of stimulation, and soon enough, your eyes were searching for constellations at the back of your skull.

“Lucius, oh, Lucius,” you panted. “You’re gonna make me– Ah!”

He felt triumphant at your trembling under him, more honey flowing from you and onto his tongue. You made soft, almost pleading sounds, holding onto his head as if to anchor yourself. He groaned, prolonging your pleasure for as long as you both could stand it. His blood felt near boiling and yet the only cure for it was you. 

Ravenous and near feral, he pulled himself out of the water and crawled over you. Finally – mercifully – he slid into you with ease, going slow and deep at first so you could adjust to him. He watched your reactions closely, feeling himself twitch inside of you — so warm and soft and perfect for him.

But that wasn't the only way he wanted to have you, and every time either of you grew closer to the edge, he changed positions. His stamina was astounding, especially considering he had been fighting for his life only a few hours earlier.

It wasn’t until you were on top of him, his hands aiding the gyrations of your hips, that you could get revenge for all his teasing. You set the pace, finding an angle where you could grind your clit against his pelvis with each move. His eyes roamed over you reverently, like you were the true goddess of love, and he was your subject worshipping at your temple. Sweat slick skin, the bounce of your breasts, your bared throat as you tilted your head backward in ecstasy… He found divinity in all of this.

His self-composure began to dissolve as his grip on you tightened. His brows furrowed and his mouth was slack, his moans spilling out wantonly. He was beautiful, so truly beautiful.

“Don’t stop,” he groaned, his hips positioning upwards to meet your movements. 

As you happily complied, leaning forward to kiss him, he lifted his torso to meet you halfway. He cupped the back of your head as his body tensed, spilling his seed inside you hotly. You came harder than before, your cunt squeezing him tightly in time with the twitching of his cock. 

Spent, you collapsed on his chest, the two of you sharing a laugh, high on endorphins. He wiped a stray strand of hair from your forehead with even more tenderness than you thought you’d ever experienced. He felt like the most fortunate man in the world, having found something so good in a place as hostile as Rome. He wouldn’t let you go so easily. 

“Come to the next games,” he said softly before he could really think about it.

You hesitated. As much as you’d love to see him in action, you didn’t think you could bear to see him get hurt… Or worse. 

“You want me to watch you fight?” You asked, trying to keep the fear away from your expression. 

“I want you to see me win,” he said without a shred of doubt. “That way, you can be sure that no man can stop me from claiming my reward right after.”

You shuddered, biting down a giddy grin. “I’ll be there for you to find me, my champion.”

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