#AND EVERYONE ELSE FOR THAT FUCKING MATTER!!!!!!!!
Text
Forbidden — S.H
— summary: things between you and your bodyguard are anything but professional.
— CW: smut! 18+ only! popstar!reader, bodyguard!steve, semi-public sex, fingering, protected sex, strong language.
“Thank you Dallas, Texas! You guys showed up and showed out tonight, and I am eternally grateful for every single one of you!”
The sound of the crowds loud cheers had you smiling from ear to ear. Even though you’d been living this lifestyle for going on seven years, you didn’t think you’d ever get used to it.
The fans. The sold out stadiums. Albums reaching top ten on streaming platforms. All of it. It was all a dream come true, and you meant it when you said you were so grateful.
You smiled widely, blowing one final kiss to the rambunctious crowd before you disappeared back stage.
Immediately, you’re swarmed by everyone in your crew, your manager, Julie, being the first to approach you.
“You did amazing tonight, sweetheart! Steve is waiting for you by the dressing room, quickly change, have Steve grab your things and let’s get loaded up. We’ve got a long drive ahead of us.”
She grabs your hands, pulling you in for a quick kiss on the cheek before she rushes off to help get everything squared away for the night.
As you approached the single dressing room that sits farther in the back, your heart begins thumping wildly in your chest. You and your bodyguard had a… less than professional type of relationship to say the least… And you always looked forward to the end of the night, after your show during that small — but lengthy enough — time period where you and Steve could be alone.
“Ms. Y/L/N.” Steve said in greeting, nodding his head at you once.
You smiled. “Mr. Harrington, always a pleasure.”
A wide grin took over Steve’s face, his eyes darting behind you to make sure no one else was around. Satisfied that it was just the two of you, he gripped your hand tightly, opening the door to the dressing room and dragging you inside, kicking the door shut behind him and locking it.
“Mr. Harrington,” you gasped, a small chuckle pulled from your chest. “Eager are we?”
Steve’s large hands gripped at your waist, his fingers digging into the flesh through your tight, purple sparkly dress. He pulled your body flush into his, dipping his head down and whispering, “Always eager when it comes to you, baby.”
Before you could respond, his lips were crashing onto yours. You melted into his touch, the kiss sending sparks of electricity through your veins. You knew it was wrong, it was highly inappropriate to have a relationship like this with your bodyguard, but you didn’t care. The moment your eyes had landed on Steve Harrington, you knew you wanted him.
With perfect brown hair, beautiful brown eyes, tall, muscular body, perfect lips. He was the epitome of perfection.
Steve broke the kiss, your lips chasing his when he did. You frowned, “Why’d you stop? We don’t have much ti-”
“Shhhh,” He paused, his fingers playing with the thin straps of your dress, dropping them down your shoulders. His chocolate eyes stayed on yours, watching intently as he stripped you of the fabric. “We have plenty of time, trust me.”
You nodded, your dress now pooled around your ankles on the floor. You felt your face heat up, a blush creeping up the back of your neck and to your cheeks under the intense heat of Steve’s eyes. No matter how many times you hooked up with him, it always felt like the first. He always made you feel beautiful, he had a way of making you nervous with just one look, one word, one kiss.
His lips landed on yours again, his hands finding your waist again, fingers pushing into the waistband of your panties. He slowly slides them down your thighs, letting them pool around your ankles and you quickly pick your feet up, kicking them across the room.
Steve’s fingers slide over your slick folds, a groan emitting from his chest. He smirks against your lips, “So fucking wet, is this all for me gorgeous?”
Your tongue flicks his upper lip, your own smirk making its way to your lips. “Always for you, Stevie.”
A low growl forms in his chest as his fingers continue to slide back and forth through your slick. He shoves his middle and ring fingers into your soaked pussy, making you gasp softly at the slight stretch they brought you.
“Steve, so good.” You whimper, eyes squeezing shut as he quickly thrusts his fingers in and out.
You’re panting, your orgasm growing deep in your lower belly as Steve continues his assault on your cunt with his fingers. “Steve, s-so close.” you breathe out.
“Doing so good f’me baby, be my good girl and cum on my fingers, okay? Gonna have you falling apart on my cock next.”
He dips his head down, his lips leaving soft kisses on your neck and shoulder as his fingers push you over the edge. Your knees buckle, your entire body shaking from the mind blowing orgasm that washes over you.
Steve finger fucks you through your high, letting your body fall limp in his hold before he finally removes his fingers from inside you. He wraps his right arm underneath your knees, his left arm supporting your upper half as he carries you toward the couch in the dressing room. He lays you gently onto your back, “You still got one more in you, sweetheart?”
You give him a lazy smile, slowly nodding your head, “Of course. Help me sleep tonight.”
The grin on his face grows as his fingers hastily work the button and zipper of his black slacks. He shoves his pants and boxers down his legs, working on the black button up shirt next. He removes his earpiece, tossing it onto the small table in the room and opens up the condom he’d dug out of his wallet before he discarded his slacks.
You watch with wide, lust filled eyes as he rolls the condom down his impressive length. Long, and thick. He always had you salivating at the mere sight of him.
Steve reached the couch in two long strides, climbing on top of you, his right hand holding him up so he didn’t crush you under his weight. His left hand gripped his cock, sliding the head through your slick folds, his beautiful brown eyes on yours. “You ready?” he asks.
You buck your hips up in response, causing him to chuckle as he slowly eases himself inside you. You moan, the feel of his thick cock finally stretching you making your mind go blank.
“Fffffuck, Steve!” you moaned, wrapping your arms around his neck and digging your nails into his broad shoulders.
He hisses in a breath, your fingers breaking through his soft skin as he finally bottoms out, his tip nudging that spot inside you that has stars exploding behind your eyes.
“Shit, always so fucking hot and tight and wet. I fucking love this pussy, sweetheart.”
His hips begin moving, his cock pushing into you at a brutal pace. He lifts your right leg with his left arm, opening you up more for him, allowing him to pound into you from a better angle.
The small dressing room is filled with moans, heavy breathing and skin slapping skin as Steve fucks into you, that familiar feeling brewing in your lower belly as your second orgasm nears.
“Stevie, s’close! Please, go harder!” you cry out.
He does as you ask, pushing himself into you with more force, slowly pulling out so only the tip remains inside you before slamming back in with brutal force. He groans when your pussy tightens around his cock, his eyes nearly rolling out of his skull at the sweet sensation. “Go on, sweetheart, I feel you squeezing me. Cum f’me, cum all over my cock like the good girl you are.”
A mixture of Steve’s words and the way his tip was repeatedly hitting your g-spot had you spiraling over the edge, moans and his name falling from your lips as you came undone around him.
“Steve! Shit, shit shit!”
Steve came undone right behind you, his thrusts becoming sloppy as he pushed into you one final time before spilling his load into the condom.
He lay on top of you, supporting his weight on his right hand again as he stroked your cheek with his left. “I’ll never tire of you, sweetheart. It sucks this has to be so secretive, but you’re my favorite secret.”
You smile softly at him, “You’re my favorite secret too, and maybe once your contract ends we can go public, but we can’t afford you getting into trouble over something so trivial.”
He plants one final kiss to your lips, pushing himself up and off the couch and quickly dressing. “I know, only two years left, sweetheart. Hopefully you never grow sick of me, and maybe we’ll have a real shot once i’m no longer an employee under a hard thumb of rules.”
You open your mouth to respond but Steve shushes you, “Shhh, I don’t want to hear any apologies from you. Get dressed, we have to get going before Julie starts searching for you.”
STEVE TAGLIST: @drewstarkeyslut @halflifejess @starkeysprincess @redhead1180 @maybankskiss @simars3 @antagonize-me-motherfucker
Steve Harrington masterlist | taglist form
#steve harrington#steve harrington x y/n smut#steve harrington x you#steve harrington fic#steve harrington fanfic#steve harrington x reader#steve harrington smut#steve harrington imagine#bodyguard!steve#popstar!reader#stranger things
210 notes
·
View notes
Text
Steamy - Sam Monroe Smut
Summary: Sam has been your best friend since you were kids. When he starts avoiding you and acting strange, you decide to take matters into your own hands and things get steamy…
Warnings: afab!reader, she/her pronouns, penetrative sex, shower sex, unprotected sex, oral sex (Sam receiving), handjob (Sam receiving), teasing, voyeurism, masturbation (Sam receiving), inexperienced!Sam, Sam finishes too fast, multiple orgasms (Sam receiving), thigh-fucking, nipple play?, slight dacryphilia, subby!Sam, edging, Sam whimpers a lot, maybe a smidge of degradation, Sam is down-horrendous.
A/N: This is ridiculously long, I got carried away.
Masterlist
Sam rested his forehead against the cool tile of the shower wall as he relentlessly fucked his fist. His eyes were squeezed shut, trying to block out the guilt as his mind raced with perverted thoughts.
It wasn’t his fault, really. He hadn’t intended on showering in your bathroom as an excuse to touch himself. You had just decided to wear one of his old t-shirts today and that…that had sent him over the edge.
Sam had been fighting off these feelings for a long time. If he was honest with himself, they’d always been there. When you were kids, it was easier. He didn’t understand the mechanics of all of it. He just knew he liked being around you more than anyone else, so he spent all the time he could with you. You were best friends, after all. That was normal.
Then, puberty happened. You developed tits and he developed an innate need to see them, touch them, taste them, anything.
It was harder now. You were both in college and still spending all of your time with each other. Every waking moment of Sam’s was spent thinking of you, watching you, imagining all of the ways he wanted to be with you.
It wasn’t that he didn’t want to be your friend — he loved being your friend. You were the only person in the world that ever actually saw him for who he was. It was just that he couldn’t escape these desires that grew stronger and stronger every time you smiled at him or batted your lashes or laughed or…
Yeah, he was fucked.
He knew that he needed to get his feelings for you in check. His biggest fear was doing some dumb shit to lose you. That’s why he’d been trying to create just a little distance lately. He only resorted to that when he felt like he wouldn’t be able to control himself around you. It just so happened that, lately, that was almost all of the time.
When he’d gotten to your place today, he had told himself that he wouldn’t let his attraction get the better of him — that he’d be normal — but, the minute he saw you in his shirt he felt like he could’ve melted into the earth. It was so cute, hugging your frame perfectly and just barely covering those tight ass shorts you had on underneath.
He’d tried to contain himself, he really had. He tried looking anywhere else but at you, tried thinking of every unsexy thing his mind could possibly dream up, but his efforts were all in vain. No matter what he did, his gaze would eventually wander back over to you. His mind would run wild with different scenarios. You in his shirt with nothing underneath. Him bending you over, lifting the material up just enough to take you from behind. Giving you more of his clothes to wear so that everyone knew you were his.
He hadn’t even realized how painfully hard he had gotten or how labored his breathing had become until you asked, “Are you alright, Sammy?”
Fuck, he almost came in his pants from the sweet sound of your voice as you said his nickname that he only allowed you to call him.
He felt his face flame as his eyes widened and he pulled the covers from your bed further over himself to make sure his erection was hidden.
“Y-yeah, fine,” he sputtered, trying to will himself to get a fucking grip.
“Are you sure?” You asked, reaching your hand out to touch his forehead. “You look flushed.”
He had to fight not to moan as your skin came in contact with his, so soft and tender. Your eyebrows were scrunched up in that adorable way they did whenever you were worried about him.
He wanted to see them scrunched up for other reasons, for all the pleasure he knew he could give you if you let him try. He wanted to hear you say his name like a plea of desperation, begging him for more, more, more.
“I think I just need to take a shower,” he muttered, quickly getting up and rushing to the bathroom before you could see any evidence of his arousal.
He paced in the bathroom, fisting at his hair as he tried to calm down. This was getting a bit pathetic. He couldn’t even be in the same fucking room as you without being embarrassingly close to coming untouched.
He stripped down, tossing his clothes to the floor as he stepped into the shower and shut the glass door behind him. He turned the water on to the coldest setting, cringing as he stood beneath it.
C’mon, this needs to work, he thought to himself as he shook from the cold. The icy water caused goosebumps to erupt on his skin, but did nothing to calm the raging hard-on that was still standing proud and aching. He groaned in frustration, hitting his head against the wall as he tried his best to fight off his arousal.
Finally, he gave in and wrapped his fist around his cock. He gave himself a few slow, guilt-ridden strokes as he squeezed his eyes shut. He hissed at the feeling, relief slowly flooding through his abdomen.
He knew that he shouldn’t be doing this. Touching himself to the thought of you was already bad enough, but touching himself to the thought of you while you were in the next room? If only you knew how fucked up he truly was. You’d never look at him again…
He fought the urge to moan at the thought of your hand replacing his, or better yet — your mouth.
“Fuck,” he whispered, biting his bottom lip as he thrusted into his hand.
He needed to get this over with. He needed to handle his problem and get back out there before you started to suspect that something was wrong.
He was desperately chasing his release but, despite how badly he wanted it, his own touch wasn’t getting him there this time.
He needed more.
You had worn his shirt on purpose.
You were tired of him avoiding the situation — avoiding you.
It hadn’t taken you long to figure out why he’d been acting so strange lately. You’d noticed the way his eyes would linger on your form, the way his face would flush when you called his name, the way he’d try to discretely adjust himself in his pants when you’d get too close to him.
You’d always wondered why he’d never had a girlfriend. It wasn’t that girls didn’t desire him. He had just always been oblivious to their advances.
In actuality, you’d realized, he was just too focused on you.
You’d always harbored feelings for Sam. Ever since you were kids. He was your first childhood crush. You’d never told him, though, too scared that he’d tease you relentlessly for it. It wasn’t until lately that you realized those feelings had been reciprocated. 
Once you’d made the realization, you’d started trying to push him further and further. You’d hoped that he would snap, finally admitting to you what he’d been feeling.
He never did, though. In fact, he did the opposite. He kept avoiding you, frustrating you to no end.
You huffed out a sigh, looking over at the clock on your bedside table. He’d been in the shower for almost twenty minutes. You gnawed on your lip, contemplating your next move.
Finally, with a newfound determination, you got up from your bed and walked toward your bathroom. You were tired of waiting for him to get the hint. He’d left you no choice. You needed to take matters into your own hands.
You opened the bathroom door, shutting it behind you as you called out, “What’s taking you so long in here, Sammy? I have to shower, too, ya know?”
Sam yelped, startled at your entry. You could only barely make out his figure behind the frosted glass, but it made your heart race nonetheless.
“J-Jesus, don’t you knock?” Sam sputtered, his voice laced with nervous energy.
“It’s my house,” you retorted, crossing your arms as you leaned against the sink.
You heard Sam sigh before he said, “I’ll be out in a minute just…give me a second.”
You began undressing before you could talk yourself out of it. This was a bold move, even for you, but you knew that Sam needed something to be shoved in his face for him to realize what was right in front of him.
“You’ve already been in here for twenty minutes and I have things to do later,” you grumbled, pretending to be inconvenienced. “I’m just coming in.”
“W-what?!” Sam stuttered, his voice nearly jumping up an octave.
You opened the glass door, stepping into the shower as you tried to appear nonchalant. Sam quickly covered himself with his hands, his entire body flushing red as he looked up at the ceiling to avoid looking at your naked frame.
You took this time to unabashedly look him over. His cupped hands only left little to the imagination. You bit your bottom lip, drinking in the sight of him. Arousal immediately began pooling between your thighs as you stepped underneath the water.
You yelped at the temperature, jumping back and adjusting the valve.
“Christ, Sammy, why the hell is it so cold in here?” you asked, despite knowing exactly why he’d been taking a cold shower.
“I-I just like it cold, okay?” Sam retorted, attitude biting with his words.
You turned the knob until the water ran hot, letting the steam fill the confines of the shower. You sighed, contentedly, stepping back under the water.
“Much better,” you breathed, practically moaning as the warm water washed away the tension in your muscles.
As the steam filled the air, Sam’s head was spinning. It was suffocating. He was surrounded by your scent. It took everything in him to keep his eyes glued to the ceiling. Even the glimpses he caught of your body from the corner of his eye were nearly enough to make him fall to his knees.
He had a difficult enough time keeping it together around you when you were fully clothed, how could he be expected to keep his composure when you were naked and wet a foot away from him?
He could feel his still-hard cock pulsing beneath his hands as he tried his best to cover himself. He felt like he’d somehow entered one of his wet dreams. Confusion and arousal fogged his mind as he tried to make sense of what was happening. The two of you had never even seen each other naked, much less showered together.
He refused to let himself believe that this could mean that you wanted him the same way he wanted you. He wouldn’t give himself that kind of false hope. He could only pray that he’d be able to get through this without making a complete fool out of himself.
You reached for the shampoo, lathering it into your hair. You smirked when you heard Sam breathe in a little too deeply. Glancing back at him, he still had his head facing toward the ceiling.
“You don’t have to break your neck trying not to look at me,” you laughed, rinsing the shampoo from your hair. “It’s not like you’ve never seen tits before.”
“I’ve never seen yours…” Sam mumbled, quietly, a new blush rising to his cheeks.
“Mine are just like any others,” you shrugged, brushing your conditioner through your hair with your fingers.
Sam had to bite his tongue to keep from responding that nobody could be like you. He was fighting so hard to keep his gaze averted but now you were practically inviting him to look at you. Even on his strongest day, there was no chance he could pass up the opportunity. He’d just look once, he told himself. Just enough of a glance to embed the image into his brain for when he jacked himself off to the thought of you.
He took a deep breath before stealing a quick look over at you. He involuntarily squeezed his dick, trying not to come on the spot. None of his fantasies could’ve prepared him for the way you’d look standing naked in front of him, water dripping from your body.
He forced himself to look up at your face instead of your tits — your goddamned perfect tits — but that didn’t help his situation in the slightest. Not when you were smirking at him like you were privy to some secret that he was not. Or when you were batting your lashes, sending water drops down your cheeks. Then you bit your lip and Jesus fucking Christ he felt every cell in his body burn at the sight.
You couldn’t help but giggle at the way his eyes fought between looking at your face and looking at your chest. You could sense the stress he was putting himself through, and almost felt bad for what you were doing. You weren’t going to stop, though. Not when you finally had him right where you wanted him.
You moved to grab the bottle of soap, intentionally letting it fall from your grasp. Out of instinct, Sam reached out to catch it. You gasped quietly at the sight of his erection springing forward into view.
He was big. Bigger than you’d expected. He was hard and leaking, his tip red and aching. He followed your gaze down, his eyes widening as he realized what you were looking at. He quickly handed you the bottle of soap back, moving to cover himself again.
“You know,” you started, smirking as you poured the soap into your hand, “if you need to take care of that, you can. I don’t mind.”
“W-what?” Sam coughed, his face a deep shade of red. “No! No way.”
“It’s natural, Sammy,” you shrugged. “I do it all the time. Besides, it looks real painful. I won’t watch if that’s what you’re worried about.”
Sam wanted the earth to swallow him whole in that moment. He didn’t think his skin could burn any hotter than it was right then. You were teasing him, torturing him.
He didn’t know which part was worse — the way you said his name, the mental image of you touching yourself, or the attention you had paid to his predicament. His body felt like it was going to erupt into flames at any given moment.
You had to know. You had to. There was no way that all of this was just some random coincidence. The two of you had never breached that line of friendship and now, here you were, telling him to touch himself in front of you.
He couldn’t do that. There would be no coming back from that. There would be no way that he could recover. He’d come the minute he touched his dick if your eyes were on him, and how would he explain that?
However, you had said you wouldn’t watch…and he did really really need the relief…
Sam bit his bottom lip, breathing heavily as he contemplated his options. He knew that he shouldn’t, but the offer was so tempting…
“You promise you won’t watch?”
Your smirk grew as Sam gave in to his desires, just like you knew he would. You crossed your heart with your finger and Sam squeezed his eyes shut as his gaze was unintentionally brought back down to your chest.
Giggling, you turned back around to face the other side of the shower. You didn’t miss the way Sam’s eyes travelled down to your ass as you did. You began lathering the soap into your skin as you heard the wet sounds of his fist stroking his dick over the hum of the shower.
You bit your lip, focusing on the way he let little breaths escape him. You could imagine how hard he was trying to refrain from making any other noises. You wanted to hear him, wanted to know exactly how he was feeling.
Curiosity and the need to push him further getting the better of you, you asked, “Are you always this quiet when you jack off?”
He sucked in a breath and sputtered, “Jesus, fuck, you…you can’t talk to me right now.”
You stifled a giggle, feigning innocence as you said, “Why not, Sammy?”
“Don’t say my name,” he practically pleaded, his voice barely above a whisper.
“I thought it would help,” you laughed, done beating around the bush. “Don’t you usually imagine me saying your name when you do this?”
You turned back around to face him, cocking your head to the side. His eyes widened and his hand stopped moving as his mouth opened and closed repeatedly.
Your mouth practically watered at the sight of him, chest flushed and heaving, his fist squeezed tightly around his erection.
“W-what…I don’t…I haven’t…” Sam stuttered, trying to come up with some kind of denial to your statement.
“Oh, come on,” you huffed, rolling your eyes playfully. “I’m not oblivious and you aren’t exactly subtle.”
Sam’s face turned an even deeper shade of red as he squeezed his eyes shut.
“Relax, Sammy, it’s okay,” you said, beginning to slowly lather the soap into your skin. “Keep going.”
“What?” He gulped, eyes shooting open as they focused on the way your hands moved across your body in an agonizingly tempting motion.
“Keep going, Sammy,” you repeated, not taking your eyes off of him.
He released a shuddered breath, licking his lips as his eyes locked back on yours. Slowly, he began to move his fist again.
His jaw fell slack as his gaze followed the motion of your hands, teasing him as you trailed suds across your chest. His hand moved faster, his eyelids fluttering as a strained noise sounded from his throat.
“Is this what you think about, Sammy?” You taunted, moving your hands lower down your stomach.
Sam gasped, nodding his head as he muttered, “uh-huh.”
His chest heaved with heavy breaths, his hips thrusting into his fist. His hooded eyes were dark with desire as they traveled over your body. His movements became sloppy, his brows knitting together.
You could tell he was close, soft sounds involuntarily escaping his lips. His muscles were visibly tensing as his breaths started to come out in short spurts.
You’d had enough of being a bystander. Every nerve in your body was alight with desire and you wanted to close the distance between you two. You were done playing this game. If he was going to come, you wanted it to be by your hands.
Sam let out an involuntary whine of protest as you grabbed his wrist and pulled his hand away from himself. His eyes widened as you moved him until his back was pressed against the cold shower wall.
“W-what are you…what’s happening…oh, fuck.”
Sam’s questions were silenced the minute you pressed yourself against him. He gasped, clenching his fists by his side, seemingly using all of his restraint to keep from touching you.
He looked down at you, his gaze pleading and questioning as he asked, “What is this?”
“I was tired of waiting for you to make the first move,” you shrugged, grabbing his face.
His brows furrowed, confusion etched into his features. His mouth opened and closed, as if trying to form the words he wanted to say.
“Waiting for…what do you mean?”
“God, you’re so oblivious,” you mumbled, pulling his face down to yours and pressing your lips against his.
He immediately buckled, leaning into the kiss. He couldn’t help but groan into your mouth, a sound that betrayed the intensity of his arousal. The pressure building in his groin grew, his need growing at an unbearable pace. He arched his hips forward, desperate for contact. You pulled back, biting your lip as you peered up at him.
Sam held his breath, the moment teetering on the edge of ecstasy. His heart hammered so loud that it threatened to drown out the sound of the shower. His eyes were dizzy and unfocused as he looked down at you. This was both the most exhilarating and most terrifying moment of his life. The anticipation was agonizing, maddening.
You glanced down at his pouted lips, as if daring him to make a move. His tongue darted out, flicking across them as his gaze moved between your eyes and your mouth.
Finally, after working up the courage, he leaned forward. You grinned as you tilted your head back, keeping your lips just out of reach. He furrowed his eyebrows, releasing a shaky breath before trying again. You let his lips barely brush against yours before you dodged him again, smirking at the teasing game you were playing with him.
He looked at you with pleading eyes, desperation etched into his features, as a needy whine sounded in his throat. He whispered your name, fists tightening as every muscle in his body tensed with longing.
“Please,” he whispered, his jaw clenching with the effort to keep his composure.
With that one word, he completely crumbled your resolve. His eyes were dark and glassy with desire and unshed tears and you were prepared to give him anything he asked for.
You tangled your fingers in his wet hair, pulling him into a heated kiss. His lips immediately parted, devouring your own. He kissed you like he was starved, like you were his only source of oxygen after he’d been suffocating with need.
There was still a hesitancy in his actions, a part of him that was restraining himself. Whether it was out of fear or lack of knowledge, you didn’t hesitate to guide him.
Your fingertips trailed down his arms, causing him to shiver. You grabbed his hands and placed them on your hips. He moaned into your mouth, his touch instantly beginning to wander.
The urgency in his kiss increased, his hands roaming your back, your sides, your legs. Years of built up tension came bubbling to the surface as you both began to drown in each other.
Sam’s voice was low and husky, barely coherent against your lips as he whispered, “Don’t stop.”
The pressure between his legs was a stinging reminder of his desperation. The need within him was leaking with each touch, each kiss. He reveled in the control you wielded over him. Sam’s mind was lost in a sea of lust. This was a moment he’d dreamed about for years. The thought of it was almost too much, the entire situation overwhelming.
You guided his hands up to your chest and Sam wasted no time in palming your tits. He squeezed gently, kissing you with blazing fervor. When his thumbs experimentally swiped across your nipples, you let out a sigh of pleasure against his lips.
Sam’s brain short-circuited the minute he heard your reaction. His hips surged forward, pushing his aching erection between your clenched thighs. He had been so worked up and the pressure provided just the right amount of friction. He gasped, letting out a strangled moan as he clutched onto you. His eyes rolled back as an orgasm ripped through him, instinctively continuing to thrust between the plush skin of your thighs.
Sam panted, slowly opening his eyes again as he came down from the high. His entire body flushed at the revelation of what had just occurred. He took in your amused expression, groaning in embarrassment as he buried his face into your neck.
You stifled a giggle, gently rubbing his back as you whispered, “It’s okay, Sammy. It happens.”
He whimpered against your skin, wrapping his arms around you. He was torn between wishing he could disappear, never having to face you again, and wanting to stay in this moment forever.
“Besides,” you smirked, leaning down to pepper gentle kisses across his shoulder, “I’m not finished with you yet.”
Sam inhaled, sharply, his breath hot against your neck. His body instantly responded, his arousal already stirring again at the prospect alone.
You grabbed his face, lifting his head back up to meet his gaze. His cheeks were still tinged pink, bringing out the bright blue of his dilated eyes.
You traced his swollen lips with your thumb and asked, “Do you think you can do it again for me?”
“Mhm,” he responded, nodding eagerly. “I’ll do anything for you.”
You grinned, your lips brushing against his as you whispered, “Promise?”
He pulled you into him, closing the gap between you so that you couldn’t pull away again. He kissed you passionately, groaning as you bit down on his bottom lip.
“Promise,” he mumbled into the kiss, “anything you want.”
You reached up to grab his chin, tilting it to the side as you slowly kissed down his neck. His eyes fluttered shut, his body quivering at the tender attention. He cradled your head with a trembling hand, urging you on as your lips made their way across his skin.
Sam whimpered when you nipped at his pulse point, the hand in your hair tightening as you gently sucked a dark mark into the pale skin. You kissed across his chest, letting your hands run down his sides. He gasped as your teeth grazed over one of his nipples.
Your lips continued their descent down his body as you slowly sank to your knees in front of him. Sam let out a shaky breath, whispering your name as his legs nearly gave out.
You blinked up at him, water drops coating your lashes, as you rubbed your hands up and down his thighs.
“You’ll do anything I want?” You asked, kissing across his hips.
“Uh-huh,” he rasped, licking his lips as he nodded his head. “Anything you want. I swear it.”
Your mouth watered as you sat eye-level with his dick that was steadily twitching back to life. He gasped as you took him into your hand, his fists clenching tightly by his sides. You slowly began to stroke him, watching as he bit his lip to try and hold back the sounds threatening to spill from his lips.
“Then I want to hear how good it feels, Sammy,” you told him, pressing a teasing kiss to the tip.
“Shit,” he cursed, hardening again in your grip.
Your tongue traced a line up his shaft, slowly circling it around the head of his dick before taking him entirely into your mouth.
“Oh, fuck,” he moaned, panting as he gripped the shower wall for support. “That’s…a-ah…that’s really good.”
The sight of you was overwhelming. He had only ever pictured you this way in his dirtiest dreams. You, on your knees with your lips wrapped around his cock, gazing up at him like the prettiest thing he’d ever seen.
“Fuck, you’re perfect,” he breathed, peering down at you through hooded lids. “Your mouth feels so fucking good.”
You watched his chest heave as you worked him, using your hand to cover what your mouth couldn’t fit. His fist was still tangled in your hair, but he didn’t dare attempt to control your movements.
Sam’s eyes rolled back as he felt himself hit the back of your throat, the sensation causing his hips to stutter. You swallowed around him and his entire body threatened to crumble. Strings of lewd moans and whimpers escaped his lips as his back arched off of the wall.
“Oh, god,” he panted, throwing his head back against the shower wall, “I’m…fuck…I’m gonna…”
You pulled off of him and he let out a whine, thrusting to desperately chase your lips. You grabbed his hips, holding them still as you rose back up to your feet.
“Why’d you stop?” Sam pouted, scrunching his eyebrows together in desperation. “I was so close.”
Your hands roamed his chest, feeling the pounding of his heart beneath it, as you looked up at him with a teasing glint in your eyes.
“I didn’t think you’d want to stop before getting to be inside of me, but if you’d rather settle for my hands then I can keep going,” you taunted, cocking your head to the side.
“No,” he croaked out, his voice breaking off into a desperate moan at the mere thought of that privilege. “I wanna be inside you. Please, let me be inside of you.”
He clutched at you, pulling you into him as he crashed his mouth against yours. You immediately responded to the kiss, parting your lips and tasting his tongue with your own.
Without breaking the kiss, you pulled him forward and switched your positions so that your back was now pressed against the shower wall.
You reached down, grabbing his dick and stroking it as you lined it up with your entrance. He gasped, breaking apart to rest his forehead against yours. He sucked his bottom lip into his mouth as he looked down between your bodies, watching you tease them finally joining together.
“Please, don’t keep teasing me,” he begged, his voice hoarse with need. “I can’t take it.”
You wrapped a leg around his waist and Sam held his breath, his mouth falling open as you guided his hips to slowly sheath into you. As his length filled you, stretching you out with a delicious burn, you couldn’t help but let out a breathy moan.
Once he was buried to the hilt, his hips flesh against your own, he finally released his breath in a strangled whimper.
“You’re so tight, fuck,” he breathed, unable to take his eyes away from the sight of you wrapped around him.
“Fuck me, Sammy,” you whispered, watching as his gaze snapped up to meet yours.
His breath hitched as he nodded, his body trembling with nervous anticipation. He pulled back, almost completely out of you, before pushing back in with a slow, experimental thrust.
You both gasped at the feeling, moaning into the shared air between your mouths. He repeated the motion again, familiarizing himself with the way your body practically pulled him in.
His thrusts got faster as his lips found yours again in a heated kiss. You clutched onto his shoulders for support, feeling every nerve in your body ignite in flames of pleasure.
“You feel so good,” you mumbled, arching into him. “Such a perfect fit.”
Sam groaned against your lips, his hips picking up the pace. He pulled back to look at you, his eyes dark with desire.
“I’ve wanted this for so long,” he confessed, the dam of his emotions suddenly breaking as he fucked into you. “I-I dreamed about you, every day. You were all…ah…I ever wanted.”
“I know, Sammy, I know,” you panted, reaching up to kiss him again. “I’ve always felt the same way, you were just too blind to notice.”
He whimpered at the revelation, his thrusts becoming more urgent. He grabbed your waist, using it as leverage as his hips snapped up into yours.
“Fuck,” he whined, breathing out your name. “I-I’m getting close. I’m not gonna be able to last.”
“I need you to hold on just a little longer, Sammy,” you told him, earning a desperate whimper as his eyes grew glassy again.
You grabbed one of his hands, guiding his thumb to your clit. You moved it in slow circles, showing him how to touch you. He picked up the action quickly, moving his fingers on their own accord.
You moaned at the added stimulation, feeling Sam’s hips stutter as you squeezed around him. Ragged breaths wracked through him as he tried desperately to hold on for you.
“Wanna hear you, Sammy,” you prompted.
A single tear drop fell down his cheek from the sheer effort of keeping his climax at bay as he began to mindlessly ramble.
“You feel so good. Squeezin’ around me all tight and warm. Could just stay buried in you forever. Never wanna stop. I’ll do anything to satisfy you. Anything you want. I’ll get on my hands and knees if you ask me to. Just wanna make you happy. Just wanna keep feelin’ you like this.”
He kissed down your neck, needing to occupy his mouth. He buried his face against your chest, gasping and whimpering as his movements chased the high he desperately craved.
“No one else gets to have me like this,” you promised, feeling that familiar knot of pleasure tightening in the pit of your stomach. Each stroke of his thumb against your clit, paired with the tip of his dick repeatedly brushing that spot inside of you, pushed you closer and closer to the edge. “You’re the only one I want, Sammy. The only one who can make me feel this way.”
He let out a strained cry against your skin, his fingers gripping the plush skin of your waist tighter.
“Please, I need to come,” he begged, the desperation making his voice raw. “I need it, baby, please.”
The sweet sounds of his pleading was the final thread that unraveled the knot.
“Come for me, Sammy,” you breathed.
You felt the white hot pleasure course through your veins as you tightened around him, feeling your climax wash over you in a tidal wave.
He came with a cry of your name, clutching onto you as he continued to thrust into you. His vision seemed to black out as he finally let go, giving you everything.
The world around you seemed to fade as you both came down from the mutual high. Sam’s body relaxed into yours, his hands still trembling as you both tried to catch your breath. You settled into a blissful haze, engulfed by the warmth of the shower.
You held him close to you, running your fingers soothingly through his hair as you smiled lazily, “You done avoiding me now?”
“Yeah,” he whispered, grinning sheepishly. He nuzzled into your neck, wrapping his arms tighter around you. “Never gonna avoid you again.”
“Good,” you responded, “it would be a dick move to avoid your girlfriend.”
“Girlfriend?” Sam asked, his head snapping up as he looked at you with wide, hopeful eyes.
“Well, yeah,” you grinned, biting your lip. “Unless you’d rather this just be a one time thing.”
“No!” Sam interjected, quickly, shaking his head. “I want this to be an all the time thing. Every day. Multiple times a day, if possible.”
You rolled your eyes, giggling as you playfully shoved him. He laughed, his entire face lighting up with joy and relief as he hugged you to him.
“You know, it was kind of a creeper move to barge in on me in the shower,” he joked, looking down at you with an amused glint in his eyes.
“Hey, you were the one jacking off to me in my own house!” You argued, laughing as you poked his chest.
He grabbed your hand, bringing it up to his lips to kiss your knuckles before grabbing your face and sweetly kissing your lips.
He hummed softly and whispered, “I don’t think I’ll ever get tired of that.”
You beamed up at him, feeling your heart flutter in his embrace. You used up the remaining hot water to actually shower off, tending to each other as you did. You couldn’t shake the feeling that this was how it was always meant to be.
Maybe it’s true what they say. Everything happens for a reason.
#hayden christensen smut#hayden christensen#sam monroe#Sam Monroe smut#smut#smut requests#Hayden Christensen fanfiction#Sam Monroe fanfiction#Hayden Christensen imagine#Sam Monroe imagine#Drabble#one shot#life as a house#life as a house smut
148 notes
·
View notes
Note
hiiii love ur writing sm !! i don’t have many specifics but i know i’d like to see corruption kink nd dacryphilia w/ jamie:)) thank u sm:) !!
thank you for the kind words anon! when i first saw this ask i actually moaned 😫
cherry pie
pairing: dbf!james kelly x fem!reader
warnings: SMUT (DNI IF YOU’RE UNCOMFORTABLE WITH IT!), dom!james, sub!reader, unprotected p in v sex, degradation, dacryphilia, corruption kink, rough sex, possessiveness, jealousy, pet names, fluff, etc.
“You think you can just walk around outside flaunting what has always been mine, sweetheart?” James rasps into the shell of your ear as he fucks you raw. “You thought wrong.”
You had just flown home from college and decided to stop by your dad’s house. To your surprise, he had thrown you a welcome home party and invited your closest friends, some family, and most importantly: his best friend James.
Coincidentally, you just so happened to be wearing the skimpiest clothing imaginable. In front of James. As soon as the party officially started, you made your way around the house thanking everyone who had managed to show up. Everything was going well until you started conversing with your good family friend, Andrew. Unbeknownst to you, James had become furious once he saw the two of you exchanging harmless words to one another. He hated it and the rage in his eyes only confirmed it even more. You were his, even if the two of you weren’t a thing.
He decided to take matters into his own hands and stormed outside, intending to walk over to the two of you and stop anything else from happening between you and Andrew. Once he finally made his way over to you, he cleared his throat, which startled you.
“Hi James! It’s so nice to see you,” you said with an illuminating smile plastered on your face.
“Who’s this?” James asks with no hesitation, a look of disgust as he looks directly into Andrew’s eyes.
“James, this is Andrew. Andrew, this is James.” you say with an inviting voice.
“Nice to meet you man,” Andrew says to the man.
“Wish I could say the same. I need to talk to your friend alone, kid. Now beat it,” he says, not even trying to hide the harsh nature of his words.
“Whatever dude,” Andrew says before walking away to get a drink.
“What was that Jamie?! Andrew’s nice!” you ask in a scolding voice.
“He was getting a little too close to you for my liking,” James says coldly.
“You don’t get to decide who I can and can’t talk to! You don’t own me!” you say in a fit of anger.
“You can deny it all you want, but you know deep down that I do own you.”
And boy was he right. I mean how else would you have ended up being fucked on your bed?
“Such a fucking little brat, huh? Had to throw a damn temper tantrum at your own party, didn’t you? Whose idea do you think it was to have this party?” he grunts while plowing himself deeper into your aching hole.
“Fuck Jamie…” you cry out as you feel his fat cock stretch you out ever so deliciously.
“Poor baby…already so drunk on her daddy’s best friends cock,” he tuts in fake disapproval.
He had managed to make a girl like you lose composure with only a few thrusts. You would be lying if you said you never dreamed of this. Him doing this to you. He wanted to ruin you, so that no other man could have you.
“No boy can fulfill your deepest desires like I can. That’s why you need a man like me,” he says full of lust. “You belong to me.”
“Please…need more…” you plead, tears threatening to spill from your eyes.
“Greedy girl, aren’t ya, darling?” he asks, already knowing the answer you would give him.
“Only for you,” you reply in a choked sob, tears finally streaming down your cheeks from how he was splitting you open. It was enough to have your toes curling and see stars.
“Lemme see those pretty tears, baby,” he says before bringing his tattooed hand to your face to wipe them even further down your cheeks. You feel his tight balls slap against the curve of your ass, which provides some much needed friction.
“James ‘m so close! Please let me cum…” you beg of him, too far gone to even paint a picture in your mind of how desperate you are in this moment.
“Promise me that you’re mine,” he demands of you.
“I’m fucking yours Jamie…all fucking yours!” you let out with raggedy moans as he stuffs you with even more of his dick.
“That’s what I like to hear. Now let go for me, m’kay sweetie? Prove that I made the right decision to let you cum,” he says in between his erratic movements, his words only spurring the two of you on. He finally hits that spot deep inside of you, enough for you to teeter over the edge and finally milk his cock with your sweet release.
James throws his head back at the feeling while still pile driving himself at an agonizing pace into your spent pussy. Before he knows it, his sticky ropes of seed spill into your walls, where it would stay for the rest of the night if it were up to him.
He finally pulls out and then positions himself so he’s laying directly next to your achy body. As the two of you catch your breath from your guys’ respective orgasms, he caresses your tresses.
“I love you,” he says, breaking the silence once and for all, causing you to look at him in shock.
“You love me?” you ask, wondering if you had heard him right.
“How could I not, baby?” he responds.
“I was just wondering because…I love you too Jamie.” you admit.
The look he gave you was one of awe and admiration. You felt so lucky to have a man who cared for you deeper than you could’ve ever imagined. Needless to say, he felt the same way.
“So where do we go from here?” he asks nervously with a chuckle.
“I may have an idea,” you say before pressing a gentle kiss to his soft lips.
tag list: @zapernz @mortalheartache @midnight-raine @camiemorgan8 @myheartwillgoon2022 @demieyesore
#james kelly smut#james kelly x reader#james kelly x you#hayden christensen#anakin skywalker#anakin smut#anakin skywalker smut#star wars#anakin imagine#anakin skywalker x reader#star wars fanfiction#star wars fandom#anakin star wars#american heist#sam monroe smut
95 notes
·
View notes
Text
ON THE DANCE FLOOR
— art donaldson x reader smut
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
mainstream rap filled your ears as it blasted through the frat house, the nauseating smell of liquor and sweat stinging your nostrils. you swayed your hips until you were dizzy, eyes closed the majority of your sloppy dance “routine”; you opened them for a split second and they immediately found art from across the room.
obsessed. obsessed was the one and only word you could use to describe the way you feel about art donaldson. the two of you were friends, yes, but you both found it close to impossible to keep the boundaries of friendship with each other. there’s always been constant flirting; the tension between you two was painfully obvious to anyone with half a brain. so, when you locked eyes at that party, your bodies naturally met in the middle of the dance floor, his hands grasping your waist and your arms wrapping around his neck. you danced without words for a while, trying not to make too much eye contact with him. blonde curls fell over his forehead, a few pieces of hair sticking to the sweat on him. you watched his eyes as they focused on your hips, then your chest, all the way up to your lips.
“you smell like beer” you laughed, barely being able to think of anything else to say. he smiled and apologized, wiping his mouth a little and trying to shake off the fact that was caught gawking at you. “you look good. great. you look great” art trailed, his hands moving a little further down your waist. “how long were you watching me?” you prodded, smirking when you watched a blush creep into his face.
“how long were you dancing?”
“don’t know, ten minutes max”
“i guess i was watching for ten minutes then”
you smiled while your bodies moved in sync, not giving the fact that his face was now barely an inch away from yours a second thought. before you could think of a response, art’s lips met yours. his grasp on your hips tightened and your hands moved from his neck to his face, giving in for only a second before pulling away.
“what are you doing?” you half laughed, his face still close enough for you to smell the liquid courage he had before dancing with you. “you didn’t want that?” he laughed, not letting you move an inch. “you’re drunk, art” you said in a stern tone; in all honesty, you didn’t care if he was drunk. you were drunk. you wanted him as much as he wanted you, maybe more, but it was a matter of principle.
“no not really, tipsy maybe, but not drunk” he smirked, kissing you for a second before you could deny him again. “we can’t hookup here, that’s so fucking embarrassing” you argued, your hands falling from his face and to your sides, looking around to see if anyone had been staring. “no one gives a fuck about what we’re doing, y/n, everyone’s too busy trying to get laid themselves” he grabbed your arms and put them back around his neck, his body moving almost impossibly closer to yours. “art” you tried to complain one more time; suddenly, art’s body moved away from yours, his hands still around your waist. he smiled down at you and began dragging you somewhere, his eyes never leaving yours. he walked down the hallway of this frat house like he’d lived there his whole life, his hand only leaving your side to open a door.
before you knew it you were in a dark room, hung coats brushing your back and making you jump. art laughed and reached above his head, pulling down on a string and turning a dim light. “can we hookup here?” he teased, pushing your body against the closet door. you waste no time answering his joke, instead you grab his face and pull him in. your lips moved in sync as his hands snuck their way under your skirt. he was kissing you like you were the only thing keeping him alive, one of his hands cupping your cheek as he smiled onto your lips. your fingers tugged a little at the hair in the back of his head, earning a groan for him as he pulled away a little.
“too much?” you asked, worried that you ruined what you’d wanted for so long. “do it again” art smiled, his kisses trailing from your lips to your neck. your hands stayed in his hair, just like he asked, and you felt his hands move from your ass to the back of your thighs.
“jump”
you obliged, keeping your arms around his neck and your legs wrapped around his waist as he held you against the door, hands squeezing your thighs. “art, please” you begged, needing to feel something other than his sloppy attempt at a hickey. he chuckled and lifted his head, kissing you one more time before removing a hand from your thigh and moving to your panties. he looked at you before moving them and you nodded, wrapping your thighs a little tighter around him. he moved your panties to the side and pushed two fingers inside of you, lifting his head to watch your reaction. your head went back into the door, mouth open as you tried not to make too much noise; you were still in someone’s closet after all.
“so fucking gorgeous” art whispered, mostly to himself, as he thrusted his fingers and focused on making you feel good. your hands grabbed at his shoulders, head coming down to look at him. art was fixated on your face, his gaze shifting between your eyes and lips. “i need you; i need you so bad, art” you whined, your hand moving to the side of his neck as you watched his eyes soften at your plea. “you don’t know how long i’ve waited to hear you say that, baby”
he put you down gently for a second, fumbling with his belt as he tried to get it off as fast as he could. you giggled and moved his hands, taking it upon yourself to unbuckle it for him; then unbuttoning his jeans, pulling them down, and hooking your fingers in the hem of his boxers as you waited for his approval. he smiled at you and took them off himself, picking you back up and pushing your back against the wooden door once again. one of your hands crept under his shirt and the other tangled in his hair. art lined himself up with you before giving you one more kiss, pushing himself inside you while your lips were still on his, muffling both of your moans. he started off slow, gauging your reaction before speeding up.
you could tell how long art had been waiting for this — waiting for you. his hands grabbed your ass while his head fell to the crook of your neck, his mouth hung open while he tried his best to stay quiet. you’d given up on that; your hand lazily covered your mouth as the other grabbed his face, making him look at you while his thrusts got harder. “you’re so fucking perfect” he mumbled, looking like he was about to come undone any second. he kissed your thumb and then your hand as his thrusts got sloppier and he got louder. “art, i’m gonna cum” you whined, your hand pulling his hair a little by accident. he started fucking you harder than he had been, dedicated to making you feel good. your back began to arch and strings of curses fell from your lips; “that’s it, baby, cum for me” art encouraged, practically begging at this point. you did, not being able to keep quiet as you scratched at his shoulders a little, immediately feeling bad. art didn’t care though; he couldn’t give less of a fuck, really. he let himself get sloppy again, pulling out and letting you use your hand to get him off. he came, saying nothing but your name and “fuck” the entire time.
you both stayed there, foreheads touching as you tried to catch your breath. his arms wrapped around your waist tightly and you both laughed a little, not caring if anyone had heard the two of you.
“i want you, art”
“holy shit, again?”
“no, stupid” you laughed dropping from his arms and standing in front of him. “i want to be with you” you watched his face soften and his smile form on his lips. “i think we can make that happen” he chuckled, kissing your forehead and brushing your hair away from your face.
it was a sweet, quiet moment; well, until you remembered you were in some frat’s closet.
#Spotify#challenger#josh o'connor#mike faist#tennis#patrick zweig#art donaldson#zendaya#oneshot#fanfic#art donaldson x reader
62 notes
·
View notes
Note
hello, dear author! i do feel like that loser gf is the kind of person that can’t say no so some of her classmates took advantage of that, and of course, loser gf won’t notice that but sukuna would. can you write something about that? i’m just so inlove with the way you write about the two of them :) thank you!
𝝑𝝔 an: hello, my sweet reader!! thank you so much <33 hope you enjoy!!
anyways, so i agree with your statement.
sukuna adores and kinda hates how kind you are to everyone around you, no matter what. because people are mean and they like to use kind people, y’know? :((
and he sees it very clearly with your classmates from the classes which he doesn’t share with you because no one dares approach you with that kind of request with sukuna around. it’s not that sukuna intentionally scares them, but he marks his territory well with an arm thrown over your shoulders and an intimidating expression on his face whenever he isn’t particularly focused on you.
but either way, sukuna still catches onto the fact that people around you are using you. of course, he notices that you’re writing in someone else’s notebook and sometimes you stay late doing a lot of stuff and whenever he wonder what’re you up to, you just mumble something about doing ‘(enter classmate’s name)’s something something’, and if at first it’s not that concerning, he kind of starts suspecting a little later.
mostly because your sense of responsibility doesn’t let you ditch homework for a while to spend time with him, but also why the fuck would you do someone else’s homework?
soon enough sukuna starts appearing by your side a little earlier than usual; and as he approaches, he manages to overhear some girls and sometimes guys being thankful to you for their stuff. after being a witness of a couple of more similar situations it clicks fast in his brain that it isn’t just a little help and you’re being to sweet to people who don’t deserve it at all.
so he takes the matter into his own hands and starts a conversation as soon as he sees you huffing over someone’s notebook once again.
“y’should really cut that out, loser.” he says with disdain in his tone, settling down on the bed by your side.
you look up at him with a questioning look, pen between your teeth, “hm?”
“they know you won’t say ‘no’ so they’re using you.”
sukuna’s tone implies that it’s an obvious thing and everyone can see it. everyone but you. you’re still doubtful though, brows pinching upwards as your bottom lip juts out defensively.
“but what if they really need help? and if they’re approaching me it means i’m helpful and smart, right? and maybe they wanna be friends! right, ‘kuna?”
he purses his lips and silently shakes his head no.
that makes you think about all of the times people came to you for help. same people who laughed at the way you stuttered during presentations, same people who gave you tasteless looks from afar and thought you wouldn’t notice. same people who never really talked to you if it didn’t mean asking a question about lesson or something like that.
but they were being so nice when asking for help with their work! some even joked around before asking and you couldn’t help but think that maybe you were doing something right? as much as you didn’t want to do more work, you didn’t want people to think you were mean or rude, which kind of concealed the fact that those people were the unkind ones.
you come to that realisation pretty quickly, putting away the notebook in your hands as you look up at sukuna, “oh.”
“yeah.”
“that’s kinda mean, ‘kuna.”
“yeah, baby,” he sighs heavily, pleased with you, and tugs you closer so you can rest your head on his chest. “i gotta teach you how to say no, but for now, i’ll help you deal with those shitheads tomorrow, alright?”
“alright.”
needless to say, as soon as someone approaches you the next day to ask about their request — boom, sukuna appears out of nowhere and tells them to fuck off. and you gradually learn that it’s okay to say no, whatever the request or reasoning is, it’s really fine.
#— miya writes!#cool bf sukuna x loser gf reader#jujutsu kaisen#jjk x reader#sukuna ryomen x you#sukuna ryomen x reader#jjk sukuna#ryomen sukuna x reader#sukuna jujutsu kaisen#sukuna ryomen#ryomen sukuna#sukuna x reader#sukuna#ryomen sukuna x you#sukuna ryomen fluff#sukuna fluff
78 notes
·
View notes
Note
jay the type of mf to need direct eye contact when he comes (he’s secretly a romantic at heart even when he’s trying to cum so deep you taste it in your throat) but sometimes you get a little too blissful after a orgasm so he grips your head/neck with both hands and just manhandles your face until you’re both forehead to forehead and he’s threatening to pull out if you don’t keep your eyes open
secretly a romantic at heart? my love, he is blatant about it. jay is dead ass a fucking romantic, that shit is written in the stars and everyone knows it. not to mention, if he falls, he's falling harder than anyone else.
direct eye contact is absolutely a fucking must. No matter how good he fucks you, no matter how dazed you get, he'll lend a little slap with soft words of "stay with me, baby, look at me." and "come on, open those pretty eyes for me."
while i also love the idea of him threatening to pull out if you don't keep your eyes open, i think he's a pussy drunk motherfucker. It would be an empty threat and you'd both know it. The threat alone would be enough, though, because you know he wouldn't cum at all if you're not looking into his eyes and showing him just how much you love him and what he does to you.
81 notes
·
View notes
Text
lotta people seem to forget that like. until very recently "racism" didnt just mean "targeted, malicious, explicitly degrading/belittling behavior towards a racialized other." like i couldnt pinpoint a time specifically but within my lifetime ive watched the definition shift. "positive racism" exists and is, of the two, by far the more common.
so, what is positive racism? in short, its racialized othering through the promotion of the idea that someone from a given 'race' is inherently better at something than others, or that there is something inherently special about them as compared to others. (nb: i am NOT talking about acknowledging cultural differences) think about the Model Minority trope. that's positive racism.
Saying Native Americans have some intrinsic, unique and special relationship with nature because of our traditional cultural lifeways? positive racism. saying Mexicans are "harder workers than everyone else?" positive racism. the "asians are smarter" stereotype? you guessed it, positive racism.
this is absolutely translatable to other forms of bigotry, by the way. positive queerphobia is rampant in the queer community! look at how queer people treat allies, or how intersex people are talked about as "naturally nonbinary" (fucking ew. listen to yourself). and im not even gonna touch on all the positive transmisogyny that takes place, thats a whole post in itself.
check yourself. even if you're not saying something malicious, you could still be saying something racist. and thats not some sort of moral failure! its life. we all say dumb shit. what matters is whether you learn from your mistakes and grow as a person. together we can stop racism in a meaningful way. rather than police the language we use to talk about these social issues, lets untangle the webs of bullshit that perpetuate them in the first place.
#spinning my web#anyways. just some thoughts.#im trying to format my big posts to make them easier to read/follow#maybe fun colors will get ppl to read before they argue w me
59 notes
·
View notes
Text
Let's face it. Not everyone uses the term "system" to mean to same thing. For some people, it exclusively means someone with a complex dissociative disorder (DID/OSDD/etc.). For some people, it means anyone who experiences a plurality of people, parts, or identities within the same body.
These two definitions for the same word are like oil and water, apples and oranges. CDDs are caused by trauma, so "system" in the context of exclusively-CDDs invalidates people who use the other definition. Not all experiences of inner people/parts is caused by trauma, or ascribed to a disorder, so "system" in this context invalidates the people who use the other definition.
When you see "system" as being exclusively CDDs, you see people claiming that CDDs aren't disorders, you see people claiming that CDDs aren't caused by trauma, you see people claiming that they have CDDs without the disorder or trauma. It's triggering, it's isolating, it's scary.
But it's not what they're actually saying.
It’s important to understand this if you’re engaging in syscourse. Otherwise, you’re just going to feel hurt all the time. There's so many posts that aren't talking about CDDs at all and someone comes onto it shouting things about CDDs. Vice versa. All because of terminology.
Not everyone uses the same terms to mean the same thing. Terms change over time, and you have to understand that. Even within the CDD community this happens so much. The community nowadays likes to use “host” to mean the part that fronts the most, but twenty years ago people often used “host” to mean a part that they thought existed before all the other parts, and many clinicians believed that this part didn’t front hardly at all. Years back, the concept of someone having a system of parts was used in reference to CDDs so much that it was often what people automatically thought of. Now, it’s a common framework of various therapies like IFS, for disordered experiences like PTSD and trauma-based psychosis, and for non-disordered plurality.
Before 2014, "endogenic systems" were called natural plurals. Tumblr has always preferred the term "system", meanwhile I've been on other social media platforms that majorly prefer the term "plural" and some that prefer "multiple" over anything else.
I’ve seen so many people identify as “anti-endo” even though they believe in endogenic plurality, and also people who identify as “pro-endo” but think that all endogenics are actually disordered with hidden trauma.
Yes, this can all be frustrating and confusing; I’ve been fucked over by it many times as an autistic person. I often struggle to understand what people mean when they rely on labels to communicate their opinions, usually because I’ve met people who use the same exact terms to communicate an entirely different opinion. So much of syscourse literally centers around certain labels and who they apply to. Yet, people can't even agree on what these labels mean.
Does it really matter that much...?
I guarantee you guys within the next twenty years, you’re going to see some of the terms you’re fighting over now be changed to mean something entirely different. Time moves on, things change. It’s just not worth hurting others over.
I hope that we can all learn to be a little gentler with each other regardless of what terms and labels we use. In a community so full of trauma survivors, who already have to deal with so much of society disbelieving and hijacking our stories...I think we need the gentleness.
38 notes
·
View notes
Text
Coming on here really quick to say that just because Benedict Bridgerton doesn't like society or tries to get away from girls at balls doesn't mean he's gay.
But actually, has everything to do with the fact that he's always been the second son. The first in line for Viscount if Anthony were to die before he has a male heir.
He's the spare.
The runner up.
Everyone's second choice. Nobody's first choice.
Hell, there's even a portion of the ton that doesn't even know his name. Just that he's a Bridgerton.
Him breaking from society rules is because he wants to have a purpose and doesn't see the ton as really having a purpose. It's just a marriage mart where people are auctioned off to the highest bidder. Real love matches don't happen that often. He's constantly fighting with who his last name is and trying to find himself apart from that last name. It's the name Bridgerton that matters to people not Benedict himself.
So, he finds something he enjoys. Art. Something where he can be himself. Express himself freely without judgement. Because art is what you make it. It's entirely up to the one in front of the canvas. And then what happens? He finds out that his brother bought his way into art school. Did you see how excited that precious golden retriever was when he got in? Aside from the fact that he was high as a damn kite when he read the letter, that was something that meant so much to him. And then in the end to find out all of your hard work, your labor of love, actually meant jack fucking shit to anyone because his brother tossed some cash at the school. And that was what mattered. A donation. Not Benedict himself and his talent.
Could Benedict be bisexual? Sure! I wouldn't have a problem with it on the condition that it was actually happening, and it was well written and had time given for character development. And it wasn't used just for ratings. They've already skipped his season once, to wait any longer doesn't make sense. And if they did it now and then immediately introduced Sophie people would just be bitching that they were Queer baited. When actually that's not what is fucking happening at all. I don't understand how Benedict going to a party held by his art mentor, walking in on him having sex with a man, getting pissed off at said art mentor for his gay lover trying to find a wife and that he is lying and manipulating women translates to Benedict being gay.
Luke Thompson has also said before that Benedict is a very open person, not necessarily sexualy, but open to life.
He needs to be in order to figure out who he is. Him being with Gen in season one was the viewers introduction to Benedict not giving two shits about society. That hard-working people are just as deserving for nice things and his company just as much as anyone else is. His threesome with Gen and Lady Granville was experimentation. That's cool and fine. IDK what's going on with Tilley Arnold (i mean I have two guesses and I don't like either one). But him sleeping with different women isn't him lying to himself about his sexuality. It's him trying to make a connection, trying to find something for himself that gives him that sense of purpose.
Then when he's at his lowest point...
SOPHIE BECKETT ENTERS THE FUCKING CHAT!
Anyway, my point is that all of Benedict's character development is leading him to Sophie.
Sophie Sophie Sophie.
Why?
She's the first person to get to know him. To understand the fact that he's not just a second son but a human being with emotions and talent and deserves to be celebrated for those talents and to have his emotions comforted (she calls his family out on it and gives two shits in doing so). Sophie Beckett is a girl who grew up in horrible conditions. Tormented by her stepmother and stepsister. Turned into a slave inside her own home. Her mother died giving birth to her and the Earl being her father isn't even something that's allowed to be talked about. He's cold and distant with her. Not to mention the fact that her stepmother embezzled her money. Straight up stole her dowry. She's been abused, mistreated and despite all of that, she's still a good fucking person. A person, a woman, who sticks to her principles because at the end of the day that's what she has. And she refuses to put a child in a situation like she grew up in.
They see parts of themselves in each other. Sophie lifts Benedict up to who he's meant to be. Gives him a purpose. Benedict calms Sophie protects her (and yeah Book!Ben does it in a really red flag kind of way) and shows her love for the first time in her entire life. Introduces her to a family who accepts her for who she is and loves her, not in spite of it, but for it.
I just don't understand why fandoms as a whole push sexualities onto characters. I understand the need for more representation, and I fully support that. But we should be creating more roles for those sexualities not just shoving them onto people. Especially when it's the woman of the heterosexual couple that always gets torn to shreds when a fandom decides that a man should be gay instead of straight. You can't give viewers the LGBT support they want and then shit on feminism in order to do it. Bridgerton introduced us to Granville and Lord Wetherby, they gave us a gay storyline that could have been really intriguing and heartbreaking and lovely and then they just didn't fucking do anything with it. Netflix (and other networks) don't actually give a crap about it, no matter how often they want us to believe they do. What do they care about? Ratings. That's legit it. They don't care about creating genuine stories for those of that community. They care about money.
Anyway, I'm rambling now.
IN THIS ESSAY I WILL!
#benedict bridgerton#posting my thoughts about this has been a long time coming#and i'm not the most well spoken person in the world but i'm so tired#of seeing some people's hot takes on characters#who make eye contact with someone of the same sex for five seconds#anyway it's benophie for me#i have strep throat so i'm gonna go curl up in bed and forget everything exists for a while
40 notes
·
View notes
Text
"Hey Man I Love You, But No Fucking Way" Jamil Viper x GN Reader
Synopsis: The time has finally come for you to leave, but he isn't ready to lose you. Surely you'll hear him out, right?
Word count: ~900
A/N: I usually prefer fluff but thought I'd experiment with a little angst, though I don't think it's too intense. Never written any kind of yandere stuff before so sorry if it's tame.
Warnings: angst, yandere Jamil
This day was bound to come. He knew it, you knew it, everyone did. That didn’t make it any easier for him, though.
He knew you had started bugging Crowley harder about going home after the second overblot. And harder again after the third, then his, and so on. He wanted to meddle, but Kalim kept him busy. Plus, his faith in Crowley was so low he thought he’d have more time. Time to win you over, time to convince you that your place was with him. And he had made progress, you two had become very close despite what went down in Scarabia over the summer. But the time for you to go had come regardless.
He knew you had people you missed and places you still wanted to see. He knew that at the end of the day, no matter how much he’d grown to like your presence, you were not meant to be in Twisted Wonderland.
But he still held onto that naive hope he had that you would hear him out tonight. Perhaps too tightly.
“You know how much you mean to me, don’t you?”
“I do.” You answer almost emotionlessly.
“Then… then please-”
“Don’t ask me what you’re about to ask me. Don’t do that.”
He should’ve stopped there, but he couldn’t. If there was any chance of you staying with him, he had to fight for it. So he kept going.
“Please… you don’t know what my life was like before you. Please don’t leave me like this.”
You don’t say anything back. He could already feel himself unraveling, but tried to hold it together the best he could.
“You’re the only person I can be myself around. You’re the only person who I can show what I’m actually capable of, the only-”
“Jamil, you need to stop this. Now.”
“I love you.” He admits with desperation. “I love you, please, you can’t leave me like this. I’ll never…” he trails off, holding back tears.
“I love you too, Jamil…” You sigh deeply.
“Just not enough to stay?” He snaps without thinking. The look on your face immediately tells him that was the wrong thing to say.
“How fucking dare you? You think you’re the only person I’m allowed to care about? I have people that I miss, Jamil. That I’ve been missing. I had a life before this school, sorry that hurts your feelings so badly.” He hadn’t expected you to get so angry with him.
“I didn’t mean-”
“I had a life. A life without magic and overblots. Where I didn’t spend every waking moment waiting for something else bad to happen. Where people didn’t want to fight me just for existing, and I wasn’t almost constantly in some kind of trouble or danger.” You’re crying now too, and you turn your back to him as you continue. “I can’t do it. I can’t stay. There’s nothing good for me here.”
“What…what can I do? There’s has to be something I can do-”
“No, there isn’t. I’m leaving tomorrow and that’s that. Stop making this harder than it needs to be.”
“I…I told you, I love you!”
“And I told you I love you, but I can’t do this for you!” You wipe your face as you turn to face him again. “You think I’m happy about leaving you? Of course I’m not! But I’m not going to suffer here for your sake. I have to do this, for me. Why can’t you understand that?!”
And in that moment, he finally did understand. You didn’t want to hurt him. You weren’t trying to, you just needed to look out for yourself. He couldn’t blame you for that. You said you loved him, and he believed you. He watches you sniffle in front of him and put your face in your hands. He feels remorse for how this world has treated you, and guilt for not getting what you really meant at first. Yes, he understands perfectly.
It was the rest of the world that was the problem. You could be happy in Twisted Wonderland, you just didn’t know it. With Crowley and overblots and other stress always wearing you down, of course you didn’t think you could stay. If you were constantly hurting, how could he expect you to?
But, why hadn’t you just said that from the start? If you knew how much you meant to him, didn’t you also know just how far he’d go for you? The mountains he would make move? The people he’d dispose of? Wouldn’t you do the same for him?
Of course, you would never have to do the same for him. He would do everything, take care of everything. Nothing would keep you two from each other. All you had to do was be with him and be happy. He could make that happen, he was sure of it.
He decides that those kinds of plans don’t matter right now, though. What matters most is that you’re about to make the biggest mistake of your life, and he isn’t going to let you.
“Look at me.”
“Jamil, I’m done with this. I-”
“I get that, okay? Just…please, look at me one more time.” He was pleading, and his voice sounded so terribly dejected.
You sigh again. You lift your head up from your hands and meet his eyes.
“I told you, I’m sorry. I really am. I-”
“Snake Whisper. Follow me. You’re not going through that mirror.”
#twisted wonderland#twisted wonderland x reader#twst#twst x gn reader#twst x reader#disney twisted wonderland#disney twst#twst jamil#jamil viper#twst angst#yandere twst#yandere twisted wonderland#jamil viper x reader#jamil x reader
23 notes
·
View notes
Text
Carmy has been a victim of gaslight his whole life
gifs by @robertacolndrez
So, the definition of gaslight, according to this site, is:
"Psychological manipulation of a person usually over an extended period of time that causes the victim to question the validity of their own thoughts, perception of reality, or memories and typically leads to confusion, loss of confidence and self-esteem, uncertainty of one's emotional or mental stability, and a dependency on the perpetrator."
According to Forbes Health, this are some of the things you experience when you are being constantly gaslighted.
Anxiety
Depression
Disorientation
Lowered self-esteem
Post-traumatic stress disorder
A hyperbolized fear of danger, known as hypervigilance
I want to zoom off that last one; remember when Carmy told in the group sharing session that he had to remember himself that the world was not falling? That he had to remember himself to breathe?
If we take "Fishes" as a basis to understand the family dynamics as they grow up (and I think we should), then we can get a pretty good idea of how much Carmy's feelings and thoughts were discredited growing up.
When he speaks up about how much shit they are giving him about his profession, Donna and Mickey attack him in the group to make them say "I love you," basically telling him that it doesn't matter that they make him feel like shit; Carmy is supposed to love them no matter what. I assume this is the answer he got every time he spoke up about boundaries being crossed, or maybe he was just so intimidated by his much larger and loud older brother or his aggressive mother. We can get traces of this trauma every time he gets insulted to his face in the show; it was so bad that it was Pete of all people who had to defend him (it is very telling that is Pete because to everyone else, insulting Carmy and him having to just take it seem to be a normal occurrence, Donna made it that way). It was the only way to keep the peace and the family functioning. Clining to the love he could take in the "good moments."
Here are some ways the most important people of his life had gaslight Carmy:
Donna seems to have a preference for Mickey over Carmy, a preference he is aware of but never understands why. Donna will throw "forks" of random aggression at Carmen, and he can never fight back. As a child, he was forced to think there was something wrong with him because that is the way a kid's mind works.
Mickey lied to him about why he cast him out and hid his addiction. Ignored Carmy's calls and then acted like Carmy (who was alone in a different city and in a very mentally aggressive industry) was making a big deal about it. Carmy wanted support, and Mickey (probably the only real parent figure he ever had) was making him feel shit about it.
gifs by @thoughtfulchaos773
When he confronted it about it, Carmy couldn't even look his brother in the face; that is how much deep down Carmy was intimidated by him. Mickey also never gave him a final answer about their dream restaurant. With time, the breach between the brothers got so big that the only call he ever received about Mickey was to inform him of his death.
gifs by @espumado
Richie, Mickey, and others started to tell him about who he should date. It seems like they still intend to make decisions for him on that front. (Fuck Fak and Richie). They knew Carmys had a crush on Claire at some point and were weaponizing his emotions; Mickey probably did it to compensate for how much of a shy brother he had been. It is possible they ver wanted Claire for themselves.
And then, you have Claire, that absolute promisse of uncomplicated love and affection. She doesn't necessarily gaslight Carmy, but she definitely has infantilized him in a couple of instances. Aka, this post.
That kind of game from Claire, suggesting to somebody else what they should think or say, is not acceptable either. When a person does that, they are aware they are doing it; it doesn't matter if they think it is harmless or not. Toxic behavior and ignoring boundaries don't stop being toxic because you have love/affection for the other person.
The fact that a victim of gaslight like Carmy is accepting this treatment, a person who had to go with what people wanted from him his whole life, feeling he had to adapt to receive love, because otherwise there was something wrong with him (Donna), makes it all worse. Carmy has associated (subconsciously) accepting insulting scenarios as part of a relationship with a loved one. With Claire, he accepts being infantilized and guided into saying the things she wants him to say. Yikes all around. I am not saying Claire is or would abuse Carmy, but this dynamic's undertone is not pretty.
I hate to end this on a shipper note, but for me, this all goes back to Sydney. Since the beginning, Syd is the only person who has established clear intentions with him and followed through with them. She does it when she says she wants something or will do something. Why does this "best friend" woman seem to have a less toxic approach to their relationship than his own girlfriend? That shit cannot be unintentional. Camy and Syd established in s2 that they could argue while recognizing their responsibility for the argument. No antagonizing, no lies, no manipulation.
#the bear meta#THERAPY IS URGENT#this man could not recognize a healthy relationship if it punched in his face#the bear#sydcarmy#carmy berzatto#sydney adamu#carmy x sydney#carmen berzatto#the bear fx#carmy the bear#sydney x carmy#anti claire bear#carmen bearzatto
41 notes
·
View notes
Note
Sally would hear Poseidon say that and immediately attack him and Poseidon would just be taking and telling everyone not to interfere because, “he fucked up and that was not what he meant to say and it was worded really fucking poorly and he deserves to get his ass beat for that”
(That line causes so many feelings in me because Poseidon is trying to apologize for the pain Percy will be forced through for being born his son and part of me has always read it as Poseidon thinking Percy would suffer less if he was never born but he’s still grateful on some level to have Percy for a son and I’m crying)
“How could you?”
It took a moment for Percy to place the words. To register the absence at his side where his mother’s warmth had been. To realize why everyone else in the room stared in shock at the two people in the center of the room.
Sally Jackson was small. It was a weird thing to think. For so much of his life Percy’s mom has seemed to be so much bigger than him. So much taller. So much more prepared to take on the world. But here in the center of the throne room turned reading circle and occasional torture chamber where Percy was not only subjected to hearing his deepest thoughts but having to watch other people react to them too she looked tiny.
In the light of Olympus his mom was so small. So mortal. And yet there she was beating against his father’s chest with closed fists as she sobbed in a mix of grief and fury.
And Poseidon, the god of the sea, the earthshaker, the stormbringer, was letting her.
“How dare you!” She screamed again, the words sounding strangled. “How dare you tell our baby that!”
Zeus rose, reaching for a bolt he wouldn’t find (all of their weapons had been confiscated after all or Percy and Ares would have slaughtered each other by now) but Poseidon waved him off. Waved Paul off too when he rose to pull her away.
“I know.” He said instead, sounding ancient and tired and full of so much grief Percy wanted to cry. “I know.”
Whether he knew why Sally was attacking him or whether he was agree with her that he deserved it Poseidon didn’t say. Simply let her slam her fists against his chest over and over until she slowed and her sons took over in full force.
It was too much. The knowledge of what Gabe had been doing to her son, of what Percy had been forced to live through to save her and the rest of the world, of each and every horror her son had been forced to live through when they hadn’t even finished the first book. Hearing Poseidon, her first love and the man who had given her the most precious gift, say it was a mistake shattered something in her.
Poseidon wrapped his arms around her, tucking her close to his bulk while she sobbed.
“I worded it poorly,” He said full of apology and anguish. Those sea green eyes met Percy’s over his mother’s head. “I am several decades out of practice with children, but that is no excuse. I should have worded it better, and by failing to do so I hurt you. I’m sorry.”
Zeus choked. Percy wondered just how many times any of the gods apologized much less one of the big three.
He didn’t know what to say. What was the protocol for a god apologizing to a mortal? Was there one? Percy doubted it.
“It’s—“
“Perseus Jackson if you say it’s fine I swear I’ll—“ Annabeth doesn’t finish whatever she is planning on doing. Percy has just enough self preservation not to push it. Barely.
But it was fine. Kind of. He knows it’s not what his dad meant. Sure it hurt but that was years ago now. It didn’t matter. It couldn’t matter. And Percy still didn’t know what to say.
“I will always be grateful that you are my son,” Poseidon said, sparing Percy. “I was simply… regretful that the life of a Halfblood, a hero, is one that is rarely peaceful. You were not a mistake. I just wish I could spare you the pain.”
That Percy knew what to do with, sort of. “I wouldn’t change it.” He said, his smile feeling gossamer thin on his face. “No matter what I wouldn’t want to be anyone other than your son. This is where I was meant to be. What I was meant to do… and Thalia would have sucked being the prophecy kid.”
“Hey!”
“You were a tree, Grace!”
“I was a damn good tree, Jackson!”
He was grateful she picked up their usual bickering so easily. Grateful Nico made a show of arguing his own merit as a prophecy kid. Grateful that the eyes turned away from him and went to the growing spectacle.
Percy honestly had no idea how they were going to make it through the rest of the books.
26 notes
·
View notes
Text
Getting Comfortable
Grian got home late. He wasn’t sure exactly what time; after several incidents of dropping his phone while fifty feet in the air, he really tried not to check his phone unless in an emergency, but he didn’t feel the need regardless. Not in the night when everything was beautiful and quiet and it would be a waste to do anything but enjoy it.
By the time Grian landed at the apartment doorstep, time didn’t really matter. It was late o’ clock, the time of night where you step lightly, where you flinch at every heavy door that slams behind you a little too hard. Where you creep into your apartment like you don’t live there, but not anymore like you have anything to hide, because you don’t. Cub knows. He knows, and the aftermath wasn’t idyllic or pretty, but he knows, and for some reason, he’s still here. Well, maybe it was more accurate to say Grian was still here; Cub paid the brunt of rent and not much would change if Grian was gone.
Regardless, he wasn’t trying to wake Cub up. He shut the door as quietly as he could behind himself, curling his talons in to keep them from clicking loudly on the hardwood floor. He used to have slippers for exactly this reason, but given that he liked to keep his nails somewhat sharp.. It was enough to say Grian was tired of replacing them.
But just as he made it to his bedroom door he heard snoring; now, Cub snored occasionally, Grian knew that well enough, but this didn’t sound like Cub. It didn’t take an awake and alert mind to know who else was here.
It wasn’t a bad thing. It wasn’t. As had been established many many many times by now, Grian was fine with this and it wasn’t a problem and he didn’t give a damn what Cub did with who. It wasn’t any of his business. (It could be, if he wanted it to be.) It wasn’t any of his business.
So Grian let it go. He went into his room, shut the door, changed, cuddled up in the mess of blankets of his unmade bed, got back up, and snuck to Cub’s bedroom. He just wanted to see. He just wanted to look. He just wanted to see. It wasn’t a crime or anything. He would just crack open the door and be on his way. There weren’t any lights on in the house or anything- nothing to disturb either sleeping party! Hell, maybe Grian was making assumptions here. For all he knew, Scar could be on the floor!
Scar was not on the floor. He was never going to be on the floor. And that was fine! Grian didn’t care, he didn’t care how comfortable the two of them looked curled up together in bed. He didn’t care how secure Cub looked wrapped in Scar’s arms, held so close, close enough for Scar to snore into his back, probably drooling everywhere, Scar was definitely the kind of person who drooled everywhere-
“Grian.”
Ah. Perhaps Grian had failed to notice Cub’s eyes were open. In fairness it was dark.
“Come ‘ere.”
Ah. See. He could do that. One might even say that Grian would like to do that. That he would like nothing more than to meet him, hold his hand, crawl into bed and drift off to sleep, wings splayed at odd, uncomfortable angles. It would be perfect.
Grian shut the door.
But he had shut so many doors recently, hadn’t he? Scar.. Everything about Scar was just a fucking nightmare. He just- Grian just-
Missed Micah. He missed Micah. Micah who was a complete nutcase but embraced every part of it, Micah who baked and failed to keep him from eating raw cookie dough, Micah who could relax from time to time, watch a movie, fall asleep and snore, just like that. Micah who wasn’t perfect. Micah who was kind of an asshole, just like Grian. Micah whose flaws were written proudly on his skin, Micah who wore every unflattering personality trait right on his sleeve for everyone to see; ‘This is me! If you don’t like it then you can fuck right off!’ Micah, who was so damn cool.
And Scar who was not. God he was a pathetic fucking loser. God. Charming though. He was charming. He got Cub. He fucking got Grian! As a different guy! What the fuck!
(Maybe he should meet up with Mumbo sometime soon. Actually, Mumbo would probably be awake- Grian bet he could just call him! Hm. But Mumbo didn’t really like to talk on the phone. Especially not this late. Ah well.)
And the dumbest thing was that at the end of the day Grian still liked Scar. He did. He liked Scar. He had been so ready to like Scar.
ARGH
Grian kicked (pushed, gently) open the door, storming (walking quietly) inside and grabbing (with care) the bedsheets, tearing them up (lifting with some difficulty) to see a startled Cub (Grian couldn’t actually see his face in the dark) before pushing (accurate descriptor of the force he used here) himself under the covers and into Cub’s, and by extension Scar’s, arms.
Not comfortable. An undisclosed amount of wiggling later, it was a little better. A bit more wiggling sealed the deal. Not that Grian particularly liked having his wings hang off the side of the bed. Ideal situation here would be Grian laying face down on top of/between the two idiot losers (Cub gained this title after falling for Scar, an idiot loser thing to do), but this would work for tonight, especially since he was kind of the third wheel here, and he wasn’t about to wake Scar up to negotiate with him. Or Cub for that matter. Assuming Cub was asleep. Which he wasn’t. But Cub didn’t say anything either, didn’t move besides a bit of situating when Grian was getting comfortable.
But Grian could hear his heartbeat going at a mile a minute. He could feel the warmth through Cub’s night shirt, a flustered kind of heat, or maybe anxiety, like Cub wasn’t sure that if he moved that Grian wouldn’t scuttle right away. He wouldn’t. Grian would give in to this, at least for tonight. He was invited, afterall.
Eugh. Uncomfortable again. Just a little more maneuvering and he could make this work. Just a little more.
(Cub did not get any sleep that night and Grian was gone long before Scar got even close to waking, but it was no big deal. If Cub felt shitty enough he could just take a day off, and what Scar didn’t know and get subsequently overly, dangerously, unhandily excited about wouldn’t hurt him. Maybe in the future it would be a funny story they could tell between the three of them, or maybe Cub would take this moment to his grave. It didn’t really matter. Even if Grian wasn’t THE WORST to lay in bed with, Cub probably wouldn’t have slept anyway.)
this was the last part of the section of fic on ao3 but I’m thinking I’m not entirely happy on where this left off so might be another short bit . Eventually. I have the idea but the jimmy fic is more appealing right now.
#hermitcraft#hermitfic#gtws#goodtimeswithscar#grian#cubfan135#cubfan#cubscarian#cubscarian hotguy au#hermitshipping#convexian
22 notes
·
View notes
Text
I apologize to all my mutuals and discord servers and discord friends for not talking to anyone for months now, and not making cc and just not being as active as i used to
Im completely burned out on socializing as its been extremely stressful irl work is stressful and home like is extremely stressful and people stomp on my boundaries left nd right and keep talking to me no matter how many times i ak them not to
My parents dont care and keep forcing me to listen to them even if i have a spliting headache unfortunately as i live with them i cant exactly leave the room when i please as that will make them hurl more abuse towards me Which defeats the point, and im not kidding but sometimes i'd be sitting on the train and people start talking to me one lady kept pulling my headphones it was so fucking stressful
Everyone is utterly miserable here (rightfully so its very hard to even live or breath cause everything is so corrupted and expensive) but weirdly lately they will not hesitate to vent on literally anyone infront of them
Yesterday i was in a taxi and the driver made a pun about my home street's name and i laughed because it was funny and like i like the small pleasantries between people its harmless but i kid you not the next words out of his mouth were him complaining about everything under the sun and he got so heated that he was banging the steering wheel left and right instead of idk guiding it normally absolutely terrifying and i did not need him to dump his problems on me like that and i kid you not every fucking interaction i have is like that i was at the grocery store looking at coffee and some really old lady was like "prices are insane huh?" I didnt reply and focused on the coffee The next thing i know shes holding onto my arm tightly and telling me about how miserable thing make her it started with prices and ended with her dead husband its all like that if you even glance at people while passing by they start talking and it always leads to an angey vent.
I understand the frustration i am too frustrated by this life but idk why is this the norm now
And why me ? The most introverted person in the world i barley even have social battery for myself for my own things and now everyone has turned to consuming everyone elses social battery for thier own good its exhausting
I know i have to learn to say no and be assertive but As i said i already am a super introverted person (and this is not an exsagration i once only left the house for about 5 times total in 2 years i jut dont engage with the world much as it exhausts me)
But untill i get successful at pushing back against people and also the bigger problem my parents im gonna barely have any energy to talk to people online or in discord im sorry i can only do so much at once 😞
25 notes
·
View notes
Text
Light Yagami is so insane specifically for the way that he manages to contradict himself in every way possible. Like I think about it All the time.
He doesn't make mistakes. He makes the same mistakes every single time in every single universe, just in different ways.
He sticks strongly to his own beliefs. He betrays himself and his own ideals by doing exactly what Light Yagami would do, no matter what version of Death Note it is. He betrays himself by seeking out a "better" means of justice, he betrays himself by trying to protect others, by just living and being bored and trying to avoid ever doing wrong. His very existence is a betrayal to himself.
He is proud to be his father's son, he wants to live up to his image more than anything else, he takes after him so much and people can tell. He uses his father for his own gain until the bitter end, sometimes it kills him. He loves his mother and his sister so much. He doesn't see them for the majority of the story, sometimes at a certain point it's like they're forgotten altogether. He won't think of them when he inevitably dies.
He asks himself what Light Yagami would say or do. He is Light Yagami. He asks himself what Kira would say or do. He is Kira.
He thinks everything he does through carefully and methodically, sometimes to unnecessary degrees. He is So fucking impulsive, sometimes his plans are outright clumsy.
He has a successful social life and can make just about anyone like him in just a few minutes. There is hardly a single genuine personal connection he has to another person in the series that he does not outright abandon or squander. He has everyone on his side, even if they think they're against him. In the end he realizes there is nobody left, that he is alone and all that is left is himself and his enemies.
He'll have a literal breakdown and collect himself completely within the next half a minute as if nothing happened. He compartmentalizes emotions like it's second-nature. He is losing his shit in his own head. He never stops thinking.
He acts almost disturbingly normal and polite. He acts and thinks like he does not know how to be normal, under everything he is bitter. He is the most put-together guy ever. He is an actual mess.
If you ask him if there's ever been a point where he's actually told the truth, he'll find the most roundabout way to tell you that he is "just like everyone else" in that regard. If you ask him if he has any understanding of the human heart, if he has ever experienced hunger, if he actually has interest in academics, if he knows how to love, he would tell you that he is just like anyone else. Yeah, that was all a reference, sorry. Do you think Light Yagami has ever sought friendship?
He sees himself a God. He is so, so terrified of death. He wants his life to mean something. He manages to only destroy everything and anyone his life has ever touched.
His name is spelled "moon". It's pronounced "Light". He's everything because he's at the top of the country, he's nothing because he's satisfied by none of it. He's everything because he now has everything he's ever wanted (he came across it by mistake), he's nothing because no matter what he fails and life goes on, every single time. He wants the world to know of his existence. By the time he dies most people won't even know who Light Yagami or Kira really was, what the full picture really looked like.
Every single time Light Yagami, without exception, will eventually betray himself and make the same mistake and faces the consequences and eventually die, then cease to exist. He makes mistakes, he does things that are wrong. He will almost never realize that he was wrong. He will lie to his enemies, allies, friend, family, accomplice. Does that mean he only tells the truth to himself? Well. That would have to come with the assumption that he's ever told the truth even once, from the moment he was born.
#death note#dn#light yagami#yagami light#death note analysis#sorry this is a mess i thought of this while brushing my teeth and just kinda ran with it#he is everything (/neg) he has been stuck in my head for so damn long get him out please#my ass really thought i was gonna finish my episode 25/26 thought draft but uh nuh-uh. light yagami Brain Blast. enjoy?#i genuinely feel sorry for anyone who has to read this tirade i'm like half awayke okay this is my apology for my yapping#coda analyzes stuff#light's very nature is his own downfall and this is the only way it ever will be#if he cannot make his grand mistake of his own making then he will simply be left unsatisfied and he will always want to be more#but of course we know how it turns out when he does realize that he can be more#he destroys everything around him and then himself and it's all his own action and choice. it's his own nature. this is simply How he is#this is light yagami
21 notes
·
View notes
Note
Why do you keep saying you don't ship paulfeyd haha
Oh for the love of...
*sobs*
Because I don't, ok! It's not my fault the fandom keeps coming up with really fucking funny content about them! And I'm not saying there's not a lot there, both text and subtext, to dig your teeth into. Like, Paul was literally supposed to be born a girl and fuck/marry/kill Feyd. They were destined to be together since before they were born. Feyd has massive attack dog energy, Paul has massive master energy. Paul is burdened with a glorious and terrible destiny that involves him committing unspeaking atrocities and Feyd is coming in his pants just thinking of committing those atrocities for someone who will call him a good and special boy. Ok, I get it. I get it! I do! Aaagh!
But like... Paul diverted from his path. That's the whole point. He wasn't born a girl. He didn't fuck/marry/kill Feyd. He didn't become the Duke (kinda. Like he kinda did, he kinda didn't, whatever.) He didn't even become the emperor, he became the god emperor. And then he diverted from that path, too. He couldn't follow the Golden Path. He chose to step away. At every point, he fucks up everyone's plans and chooses something else.
So there's a part of me that feels like I ultimately ship him with Chani. She's the one he chose. She's the one he would have ultimately chosen to be with, no matter what the world had chosen for him. (And I ship him with the movie version of Chani. I have. So many thoughts. About the book version. Denis Villenevue is a fucking genius and one of the best things he did was take Chani and turn her into a character that actually makes fucking sense based on the text Frank Herbert wrote into his actual fucking book-)
But the larger part of me says that ultimately... Paul was always destined to end up alone. Because of decisions that everyone (including him) makes, the thing that feels best to me is just... thinking about Paul in relationship to the possibilities that could have been, instead of actual individual people.
But I'll continue to keep eating up the PaulFeyd shit because it's fucking amazing 😂
#dune#dune part one#dune part two#paul atreides#feyd rautha#paulfeyd#chani kynes#look this is just my opinion#ship and let ship#I can't tell you how much enjoyment I'm getting in seeing you people enjoy yourselves#genuinely
20 notes
·
View notes
Last Seen Blogs
fraxinusfrigate
The Fraxinus Institute
sacewowijafu
Untitled
18may98
† ᏰᏗᏰᎩᎶᎥᏒᏝ †
classvoices
VOICE
seal-clan
Insert something cool and COAD related here