#i became possessed by my thirst | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

equxvedits · 2 months

Text

F In The Chat — r. sukuna

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ Synopsis: Sukuna puts on a show for his viewers, and you are the lead actress

・❥・characters: ryomen sukuna.

・❥・requests

warnings: mdni, 18+, smut, mastrubation (f), degrotary terms (slut, whore), exhibitionism (kinda? he fucks you in front of thousands of viewers), fingerfucking, use of vibrator.

・❥・wc: 1.4k

・❥・masterlist

Head thrown back on the sofa, you heard quiet squelches, intermittent huffs, and sounds of keyboard clicking.

Sukuna had his attention on the screen, the chat flooding with comments as he worked through another area of crossfire.

He continued his commentary, unconcerned that you were fingering yourself, your arousal becoming a pool on the leather. It was he who gave you the order and instructed you to prepare yourself for him.

It had initially excited you but you were confused as to why he would ask that right before his scheduled streaming time.

But it all became evident when he booted up his streaming system while you were knuckles-deep in your cunt.

His webcam recorded his face as well as the scene behind him, including his bed. Next to his arrangement was a little loveseat—the one you're sitting in right now—positioned a little distance away from him.

Luckily, the webcam was unable to detect you, hiding you from his audience.

Your fingers worked inside you, letting out small moans, loud enough to make sure it was only audible to your boyfriend.

"S'kuna...please...you're so mean~"

You continued to whine and plead until Sukuna had no choice but to look at you. Swiftly muting himself for a second, he speaks in a low, teasing voice.

"Tch. C'mere, slut."

He commands, red eyes meeting yours. Your eyes sparkle eagerly as you fix your skirt, Sukuna going back to talk to his viewers.

"Y'all haven't met my bae yet, have you? C'mere doll." He holds out his hand, moving his chair back for you to slide in.

You walk into the frame, grinning sheepishly as Sukuna's hand circles your waist, pulling you onto his lap.

"Say hi, doll~"

He smirks into your ear, feeling your bare pussy flush against his covered thigh, the material of his sweats soaking up your slick. Your thighs clench together, growing hot due to the proximity.

"H-hello..." You give a brief smile, eyes catching the flood of comments.

'lucky bastard' 'you have a gf??!' 'she's smokin' hot bruh' 'sheesh possessive much?' 'show those hands kuna' '10 out of 10' 'he could do so much better' 'she's outta your league dude' 'bro continue the game' 'nice to meet ya!' 'what's her name?' 'he calls her doll?! i'm so jealous' 'i want that hand around my neck'

The inappropriate words woven throughout the comments cause your eyes to bulge. You pondered whether Sukuna had to endure comments like these on a regular basis and whether this was the norm.

And even though you try to contain your jealousy, you silently grit your teeth when you notice the comments that insult you or blatantly thirst over your boyfriend.

With your legs slung over one side of Sukuna's lap, you shift and snake your arms around his neck, burying your face in his chest.

Sukuna chuckles, the verbal gesture reverberating on your cheek as he soothes a hand over your head.

"My baby was sleeping, don't mind her. Let's finish the fight." He says, shifting closer so everything below your waist is no longer in view.

He continues, discreetly muting himself a bit later knowing everyone's attention would be on the game now.

Since you were sitting sideways, he taps on your thigh, urging you to get closer.

"Lift your ass, baby."

You do so, leaning into him more to lift your hips sideways, your pussy open for him.

His hand drags up your skirt enough to uncover your ass, fingers immediately ghosting over your folds.

"So. Fucking. Wet."

He growls, his fingertips circling your clit at a torturing speed.

Your cunt pulses in anticipation, vision getting foggy at the thought of being fucked live. His fingertips circle your clit, your arousal cascading across your thigh.

"S'kuna...your fingers please..."

"Be quiet."

Your lips tremble at his denial as he continues to torment your clit. You glance at his computer screen, observing as his left hand continues to spam some buttons on the keyboard.

Although you wondered what he managed to do without using his mouse, and you would be right to assume that.

He was failing miserably but his attention was now fixated on you, noticing your cheeks glow red, eyes scrunched up, face pressed against his shirt.

His slender hand cups your cunt, wanting to see you grow desperate on his lap. You squirm as impatience looms over your being. You were one stroke away from fucking him then and there.

Thankfully your prayers were answered as Sukuna smoothly slips two fingers into your cunt. You hiss at the notable difference in your fingers and his, feeling your hole stretch further and his digits reach deeper.

This would never get old. No matter how many times he does this, his hands will always be your favorite.

You groan as he starts to move, thrusting slowly. You would have been complaining about the speed if it hadn't been for the delicious stretch.

"You're so wet, but I need you to be drenched. Need these juices all over my set up~"

Your eyes sting in embarrassment, not being able to contain your whimper due to his nasty words. As soon as he had said that, you were empty once again, hearing Sukuna rummaging through his desk.

You jolt hard once a harsh vibration pulse on your clit— unable to hold back, you let out a moan before instantly sealing your lips shut.

Sparing a glance at the chat, you saw numerous comments of people trash-talking your boyfriend's performance in the game, but none of them said anything about your wanton actions.

"Mmmm, eyes on me, slut. Keep moanin' for me. Need to see you bitch and whine like a whore."

"H-hurts 'Kuna! S-sensitive...please..."

He grins evilly, loving your tortured expression. Gaining an idea, the position of his hands changes around your body.

He moves you so that you were straddling him instead, back against his chest as he plunges the tiny vibrator into your cunt, walls molding around the silicon.

His hand was in between his crotch and your dripping sex, fingers not moving from your hole as he continued to finger you.

His left hand was no longer on the keyboard, but instead, they handled a small device, pressing a few buttons here and there.

You hadn't noticed the vibrations getting faster, but due to your last reaction, Sukuna amped up the speed to the third highest setting, making you harshly jolt, eyes rolling back.

Your vision blurs at the feeling, such cruel vibrations right against your cervix made your head dizzy, his fingers adding to the coil in your stomach.

"Fuck yourself on me. Just...like...that~ Keep crying bitch...So. Fucking. Sexy."

Your body started to move, hands on Sukuna's gaming chair handles as you separated your back from him, sliding your pussy across his fingers.

"Ah! Ah! Ah! Ah! Ah!"

You pant with every thrust, your juices dripping down his knuckles, a puddle on his lap.

By now, everyone on the livestream had noticed the filthy actions. It was hard not to with tears running down your face and drool seeping from your mouth.

Shame had long left your body, mind forgetting that there were thousands of people witnessing your whorish act.

To make things worse, Sukuna started to roll back his chair, webcam capturing a full view of your sloppy pussy. And for the cherry on top...

...he turned on the mic, just as you started gushing around him.

"Cum for you! Gonna cum! For you! Only you!"

PING!

"So full! My pussy is so full~!"

PING!

"Ngh-! Spit in my mouth 'Kuna! Wanna taste you..."

PING!

"Will be a slut for you, S'kuna! Please go deeper~!"

PING!

"Can feel you so deep 'Kuna~!"

PING!

"S'kuna~! Cumming!"

PING!

"Too much!"

PING!

Your loud moans drown out all the donation pings that flood his computer. Sukuna smirks on your shoulder, canines digging into the skin as he chuckles at your sloppy cunt.

His hands fondled your bra-less chest, your shirt molding over your tit as Sukuna groped your mound, nipples visible through the fabric.

"Such a pretty whore I have here...don't ya think?"

PING!

"Just look are this pussy..."

Sukuna maneuvers you to sit back close to his chest as his hands spread your legs apart, placing them on each side of his chair.

Placing the remote down, he spits on one hand, his other tearing off your shirt leaving you bare save for your skirt that was bunched up on your torso.

He later smooths his palm over your breast, spreading his saliva on your nipples making them perk up.

"Pretty tits too..."

"Ngh..."

"Shhh."

Sukuna gives a swift slap to your pussy when you started to whine, which only makes you yelp out once more.

PING!

His hands stay on your cunt, spreading your folds.

"...And look at this tiny hole. Fuck her every day too, it doesn't make a difference."

PING!

"Caught me a slutty one, tastes fucking delicious. Wanna see her squirt?"

PING!

"I'll take that as a yes. See baby? They love your sloppy cunt...what do you say?"

"T-thank y—fuuuckhh! Thank you!!"

"Good slut. Such a good girl..."

#jjk #jjk fanfic #jjk smut #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen x reader smut #jjk imagine #jujutsu kaisen sukuna #sukuna x reader #sukuna #ryomen sukuna #sukuna ryomen #jjk sukuna #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen smut #x reader smut #fem reader #anime x reader #anime x reader smut

408 notes · View notes

screeching-bunny · 10 months

Note

I’m not sure if you accept thirst asks, but if you do, then, goshhhh imagine giving ‘it’ to one of your concubines and they just keep repeating the words “Thank you thank you thank you” as they suck and lap at your 🫢. They repeat the words like a prayer, almost as if they were worshipping a god (you).

But if don’t accept thirst asks then please feel free to ignore if this ever makes you uncomfortable.

Yandere! Concubine Harem Asks 1

Warnings: Obsessive Behavior, Yandere Thoughts, Bad Writing, Stalking, Possessive Behavior, Reader is Referred as ‘You’ NSFW!!! MINORS DNI. This is my first time writing nsfw content so it’s kinda bad 💀.

In a magnificent office filled with many luxuries sat a grand ruler by their desk surrounded by towering piles of paperwork. The ruler's regal figure was draped in a robe of royal purple, adorned with gold trimmings, symbolizing their authority and power. As the sun's rays filtered through the stained glass windows, casting a warm glow upon the room, you sighed wearily, with brows furrowed with the weight of your responsibilities. All was quiet but if someone listened closely they could hear the faint sound of slurping.

“Can’t you be quieter? Can’t you see I’m trying to get some of my work done!?”

Beneath you and between your legs was your consort on his knees. He was undressed and was as naked as the day he was born. The man was known for his fierceness and cold heart was currently panting under you like a dog. The sounds of gasps and moans could be heard coming from the man. Currently his lips were red and swollen from the rough treatment that you have given him. Saliva dripped down his mouth as he was desperate to have a taste of you. He sucked and licked as if you were the only source of water he had in years. There was a look of desperateness in his eyes, it made you chuckle at how pathetic he looked. A constant mumbling of “thank yous” came from him each time he had a chance to breathe air.

The consort, whose name you couldn’t have bothered to remember, was as hard as a rock. Having enough of how slow this was going you decided to throw him down onto a couch. You made your way on top of him, positioned yourself, and slammed down right onto his member.

“Ahhh, agh!!”

Tears leaked from his eyes as he began to tremble. Your arms were pressed firmly into the cushions as you made your fierce movements as he was beneath you. He was huge and swollen within you. You began to rock your hips continuously down on him. His breathing became more harsh and stuttered. You leaned down and began to nibble down on his bottom lip. The kiss was very strong and aggressive. When your consort needed to breathe you made sure to slam your lips back on top of his again. His hands on your waist while your tongues intertwined with each other. Devastating pleasure overcame your consort. His eyes were hazy and you could feel a pump of warm liquid form inside of you. When you released from the kiss his mouth was red and swollen with a string of saliva attaching the two of you.

“Ah, ah, agh!!”

“I can’t believe you came from a kiss. Ugh whatever, a few of my advisors will be here any minute. If they catch us doing this, I won't be letting you off easy tonight.”

It was safe to say that the advisors were never allowed entrance into your study due to… your other matters. However, the next day whenever the maids came near that room, their faces would instantly turn bright red. The sounds that came from that room yesterday were definitely something else and they couldn’t help but blush from it. They just couldn’t believe it went on for an entire day! The good thing was that at least the maids that were in charge of cleaning up your mess got a massive raise but holy cow did you really have to break a sofa?!?! The only thing that they could do was pray for your poor consort.

#yandere #yandere headcanons #yandere imagines #yandere x y/n #yandere x you #yandere scenarios #yandere x darling #yandere x reader #male yandere #yandere harem #yandere concubine #yandere oc #gn reader #yandere concubine harem

2K notes · View notes

pin-k-ink · 19 days

Note

(Since you were asking for a thirst HAHDNDJDNDSN)

My man (Fukuzawa) has few smut here in tumblr, he needs justice.

And I needed to be manhandled by that fine dilf.

— 🌊🪷

crucible // fukuzawa yukichi

tw ⇢ jealous!fukuzawa, possessive!fukuzawa, so much sexual tension, fukuzawa in denial, making out, teasing, office sex, sir kink cx its fukuzawa, rough sex, manhandling ofc, unprotected sex, cunnilingus, creampie, dirty talk, spanking

wc ⇢ 5.2k

a/n: anon, you just reawakened my love for fictional characters nearly twice my age

The oppressive August heat blanketed Yokohama, the air heavy and thick, clinging to your skin like a damp cloth. In the offices of the Armed Detective Agency, the ancient air conditioner wheezed and rattled, providing little relief from the sweltering temperatures. Beads of sweat gathered at your brow and trickled down the back of your neck as you sat at your desk, trying to focus on the stack of case files in front of you.

But your mind kept drifting, your thoughts inevitably drawn to the Agency's distinguished leader, Yukichi Fukuzawa. From the moment you'd started working here, you'd been captivated by him - his sophisticated air, his commanding presence, the way his steely gaze seemed to pierce right through you. It was more than just physical attraction, though that was certainly part of it. There was something about him, an aura of power and control, that drew you like a moth to a flame.

You knew it was risky, knew that getting involved with your boss was a recipe for disaster. But you couldn't help yourself. Every interaction with him left you wanting more, your skin buzzing with a kind of electric anticipation.

It started small, innocently enough. A smile that lingered just a beat too long, a brush of fingers as you handed him a file. But as the months went by, you grew bolder, more overt in your flirtations.

Each morning, you greeted Fukuzawa with a smile that bordered on coy, your voice low and honeyed. "Good morning, sir," you'd purr, leaning in just a little too close as you handed him his daily schedule. The subtle widening of his eyes, the almost imperceptible hitch in his breath, was all the encouragement you needed.

You started putting more effort into your appearance, choosing blouses that hugged your curves, skirts that fell just an inch shorter than was strictly professional. You told yourself it wasn't for him, that you just wanted to feel good about yourself. But deep down, you knew the truth. You wanted him to notice you, to feel the weight of his gaze on your skin.

And notice he did. You'd catch him watching you as you moved around the office, his eyes following the sway of your hips, lingering on the exposed slice of skin at your throat. His face would remain impassive, but you could see the tension in his jaw, the way his fingers would tighten around his pen.

It became a kind of game, a forbidden dance of push and pull. You'd lean over his desk to point out a detail in a report, letting your blouse gape open just enough to offer a tantalizing glimpse of cleavage. You'd brush past him in the hallway, your hand grazing his arm, letting the contact linger a moment longer than necessary.

Each small victory sent a thrill through you, a heady rush of power. You were getting to him, chipping away at that legendary self-control. It was only a matter of time before he snapped.

But it wasn't enough. The more you got, the more you wanted. Stolen glances and fleeting touches only fanned the flames of your desire, leaving you aching and restless. You found yourself daydreaming during the long, humid afternoons, your mind conjuring up vivid fantasies of Fukuzawa's hands on your body, his mouth hot and insistent against your skin. You'd imagine him bending you over his desk, his fingers digging into your hips as he finally fucked you, claiming you as his own.

The fantasies were so real, so visceral, that you'd often snap out of them flushed and breathless, your heart racing and your pussy throbbing with need. You'd clench your thighs together, trying to quell the ache, but it was never enough. You wanted him, needed him, with an intensity that frightened and exhilarated you in equal measure.

And so, you started pushing harder, growing bolder in your advances. Determined to shatter his iron self-control, to make him admit that he wanted you just as desperately as you wanted him.

You began openly flirting with the other men in the office, particularly Atsushi, the youngest and most naive of the bunch. You'd perch on the edge of his desk, leaning in close as you pointed out details in case files, letting your breasts brush against his arm. You'd laugh just a little too loudly at his jokes, tossing your hair over your shoulder and fixing him with a dazzling smile.

And all the while, you'd feel Fukuzawa's gaze burning into your back, his eyes tracking your every move. You'd see his jaw clench, his fist tighten at his side, and a dark thrill would course through you. He was jealous, you could tell. The knowledge was intoxicating.

Late one sweltering evening, as you were leaving the office, you suddenly felt Fukuzawa's hand close around your wrist. Before you could respond, he was guiding you into his office and shutting the door behind you. Your heart raced at his proximity, the air practically crackling between you.

"Your behavior has been quite inappropriate," he said in a low voice, his eyes boring into yours. "If you continue this way, there will be consequences."

His gaze drifted to your lips and for a wild, breathless moment, you were sure he was going to kiss you. But then he released you and took a measured step back, leaving you dizzy and aching for more.

In the days that followed, the memory of that charged moment in Fukuzawa's office lingered, a constant distraction. Your skin prickled with awareness whenever he was near, your body attuned to his presence like a tuning fork. You tried to focus on your work, but your mind kept conjuring up the phantom sensation of his fingers wrapped around your wrist, the heat of his gaze on your mouth.

You dialed back on your flirtations with the other men, but you couldn't bring yourself to stop teasing Fukuzawa. If anything, you became bolder, more overt in your intentions. You started staying late at the office, finding excuses to be alone with him. In the evenings, when the rest of the staff had gone home, you'd slip into his office with flimsy pretexts, perching on the edge of his desk and leaning in close as you spoke.

During one such encounter, emboldened by the late hour and the intimacy of the dimly lit room, you placed your hand over his as you pointed out a detail in a case file. Fukuzawa stilled, his eyes flickering to yours with an intensity that made your breath catch. Slowly, deliberately, he turned his hand over beneath yours, his palm hot against your own.

"You're playing a dangerous game," he said quietly, his deep voice sending shivers down your spine. His fingers curled around yours, just for a moment, before he drew away.

You knew he was right, knew that you were both wading into treacherous waters. But you were too far gone to turn back now, too intoxicated by the simmering tension that coiled between you.

As the summer heat rose, so did the stakes of your forbidden dance. Stolen glances turned into fleeting caresses, plausible deniability becoming paper-thin. The air grew heavy with unspoken desire, with the tantalizing promise of what could be.

And then, one storm-dark night, the levee finally broke.

You were working late again, poring over witness statements, when the power suddenly cut out. The office was plunged into darkness, the only illumination coming from the occasional flash of lightning outside the rain-lashed windows. You heard Fukuzawa's office door open, heard his measured footsteps approaching.

"The whole block is out," he said, his tall silhouette appearing in your doorway. "We might as well call it a night."

You nodded, your tongue suddenly feeling too thick for your mouth. A strange anticipation crackled through you as you gathered your things by feel, every nerve ending alight. You startled when you felt Fukuzawa's hand on the small of your back, guiding you out into the pitch-black hallway.

In the darkness, every sensation was magnified. The sound of your breathing, the warm press of his palm against your spine, the electric awareness of his body mere inches from yours. Your heart was beating so loudly, you were certain he must hear it.

And then, between one step and the next, Fukuzawa halted. His hand slid slowly up your back, his fingers curling around your nape. You turned to face him, dizzy with want, scarcely daring to breathe.

For a long, suspended moment, you hovered there in the charged darkness. The air felt thick, weighted with expectation. You could just make out the gleam of Fukuzawa's eyes, could feel the tension emanating from him in waves.

"Tell me to stop," he said, his voice rough as gravel, "and I will."

But you didn't want him to stop. You wanted him to keep going, to finally unleash the pent-up hunger that had been consuming you for months. Throwing caution to the wind, you closed the last breath of distance between you and captured his lips with your own...

Heart pounding, you melted into Fukuzawa's embrace, your lips moving feverishly against his. His mouth was hot and insistent, his strong hands gripping your hips as he backed you up against the wall. You gasped as your back hit the cool surface, the contrast with your overheated skin sending sparks rushing through you.

Fukuzawa took advantage of your parted lips, deepening the kiss with a low groan that reverberated through your body. You clung to his broad shoulders, dizzy with sensation, your head spinning with the headiness of finally, finally having him exactly where you'd wanted him for so long.

His hands roamed your curves possessively, setting you alight even through the barrier of your clothing. His hands slid up your thighs, under your skirt, his fingers digging into your flesh. Dimly, you registered the rasp of his stubble against your skin, the throaty sounds of desire he made as he kissed you senseless. It was better than anything you had imagined, the reality of him overwhelming your every sense.

Lost in a haze of lust, it took you a moment to realize that Fukuzawa had suddenly stilled. His lips broke away from yours and he drew back slightly, his breath coming harsh and fast. Confusion cut through the fog of your arousal as he grasped your shoulders and gently but firmly set you away from him.

"We can't do this," he said, his voice strained. Even in the darkness, you could see the conflict etched on his face. "It's not right."

"What?" you managed, your kiss-bruised lips still tingling, your body thrumming with need. "But I thought-"

"This is a mistake," Fukuzawa cut you off, running a hand distractedly through his hair. "I'm your superior. I have a responsibility to maintain professional boundaries. No matter how much I..." He trailed off, shaking his head. "It doesn't matter. This ends now, before it goes any further."

You felt like he'd doused you in ice water, shock and hurt warring within you. You opened your mouth to protest, but no words came out. Your throat felt tight, your eyes stinging with the sudden threat of tears.

Fukuzawa exhaled heavily, his expression pained. "I'm sorry," he said quietly. "I shouldn't have let it get this far. It won't happen again."

And with that, he turned and strode away, leaving you alone in the dark hallway, your lips still swollen from his kisses, your heart in shreds at your feet. You hugged your arms around yourself, suddenly feeling chilled despite the muggy heat.

The storm raged on outside, rain lashing against the windows, wind rattling the panes. But it was nothing compared to the tempest inside you - a maelstrom of frustration, rejection, and an ache so sharp it stole your breath.

How were you supposed to face him after this, knowing how good it could be between you, only to have it snatched away? How could you just forget the searing press of his mouth, the urgency of his touch?

Somehow, you'd have to find a way to lock down your treacherous heart, to bury your desire so deep that even you couldn't feel it anymore. The alternative - pining for a man you couldn't have, burning for his forbidden touch - was unthinkable.

But as you finally turned to leave, your legs unsteady beneath you, you couldn't shake the feeling that this wasn't over. That the undeniable pull between you and Fukuzawa was too powerful to be extinguished by duty or propriety.

One way or another, you knew you'd end up back in his arms. It was only a matter of time.

In the days following your heated encounter with Fukuzawa in the darkened office, you couldn't stop thinking about the electrifying feel of his lips on yours, the urgent press of his body against your own. The memory seared through you at the most inopportune moments, leaving you aching and distracted.

Though a part of you knew you should heed Fukuzawa's words and maintain a professional distance, you found yourself incapable of letting go. If anything, his rejection only fanned the flames of your desire, your need to prove yourself irresistible. You became utterly determined to shatter his iron self-control.

You began putting extra effort into your appearance each morning, choosing outfits that clung to your curves, leaving tantalizing slices of skin bare. You made sure to bend over just so when placing documents on his desk, relishing the way his eyes would follow the lines of your body before he caught himself.

In meetings, you started openly staring at him, your gaze heated and unwavering. You'd trace your lower lip with the tip of your pen, gratified to see his eyes dart to your mouth, his fingers tightening imperceptibly on his pen. Under the guise of friendly touches, you'd graze your fingers along his arm or shoulder, feeling the way he'd tense at the contact.

But you didn't limit your newfound boldness to Fukuzawa. You dialed your flirtations up with all the men in the office. You'd perch on the edge of their desks, crossing your legs so your skirt rode up just a little too high. You'd casually touch their hands or face while laughing at their jokes, tossing your hair over your shoulder coquettishly.

All the while, you could feel the weight of Fukuzawa's stare boring into you, his jaw clenched, his eyes darkening with a potent mix of disapproval and barely suppressed jealousy. You reveled in his attention, positive reinforcement for your provocative behavior.

Late one night, as you were once again working overtime, you decided to up the ante. Slipping out of your heels, you padded silently to Fukuzawa's office, easing the door open without knocking. He glanced up sharply from his paperwork, his eyes widening when he saw you leaning against the door frame.

You smiled, slow and feline, stalking towards Fukuzawa's desk with deliberate sways of your hips. Each step seemed to echo in the charged silence of the dimly lit office. The air felt thick, heavy with the weight of unspoken desire and anticipation. You could feel Fukuzawa's gaze on you, tracking your every movement with an intensity that made your skin prickle with heat.

As you reached his desk, you placed your palms flat on the polished wood, leaning forward slightly. The action caused your blouse to gape open just a little, offering a tantalizing glimpse of your cleavage. You heard Fukuzawa's sharp intake of breath, saw his eyes flicker down for the briefest of moments before he wrenched them back up to your face.

"What are you doing here so late?" he asked, his voice carefully controlled.

"I thought you could use some company," you purred, your voice low and sultry. "And I had a few...questions about the case."

Fukuzawa's jaw clenched, a muscle ticking in his cheek. His hands, resting on the desk, curled into fists as if he was physically restraining himself from reaching for you. "It's late," he said, his tone carefully measured, but you could hear the undercurrent of strain beneath the words. "Any questions can wait until morning."

Undeterred by his dismissal, you circled around the desk, trailing your fingertips along the smooth surface. Fukuzawa watched you warily, his body tense, coiled like a spring ready to snap. When you reached his side, you perched yourself on the edge of the desk, crossing your legs slowly, deliberately. The hem of your skirt rode up, revealing a tantalizing expanse of thigh, the lacy edge of your stockings just peeking out.

Fukuzawa's gaze followed the movement, his eyes darkening with barely suppressed hunger. His hands clenched on the armrests of his chair, the leather creaking under the force of his grip. You could practically feel the heat radiating off him, the air between your bodies crackling with electricity.

Emboldened by his reaction, you leaned in closer, placing your hand on his thigh. His muscles tensed beneath your touch, his breath hitching almost imperceptibly. "But I want your input now, boss," you breathed, your lips just inches from his ear. "I'm sure we can find a way to...stimulate some insights."

For a long, suspended moment, neither of you moved. The only sound was the ragged tempo of your breathing, the thundering of your heartbeat in your ears. Fukuzawa seemed frozen, torn between the compulsion to maintain his professionalism and the undeniable pull of his desire. You could see the conflicting emotions warring in his eyes, the desperate struggle for control.

Then, in a sudden flurry of movement, Fukuzawa surged to his feet. His chair clattered backwards, forgotten, as he gripped you by the upper arms, hauling you up with him. Before you could even gasp, he had spun you around, pressing you up against the wall with the solid heat of his body.

Your breath left you in a rush as your back hit the hard surface, your chest heaving against his. Fukuzawa's hands slid down to your wrists, pinning them beside your head as he loomed over you, his face inches from yours. His eyes were wild, almost black in the low light, boring into you with an intensity that made you tremble.

"You just can't leave well enough alone, can you?" he rasped, his voice rough and gravelly with barely leashed hunger. "You're determined to drive me to madness."

Your lips parted, a retort on the tip of your tongue, but it dissolved into a soft moan as Fukuzawa ducked his head, his mouth grazing the sensitive skin of your neck. A shudder rippled through you at the contact, heat pooling low in your belly. You arched into him instinctively, craving more, desperate for the feel of his hands, his lips on your body.

"I only want to drive you to honesty," you managed to gasp out, your fingers threading through his silver hair, holding him to you. "Admit it - you want me as badly as I want you."

Fukuzawa groaned against your throat, the sound vibrating through you like a tuning fork. His grip on your wrists tightened reflexively as he fought for control, his breath coming in harsh pants against your skin. "We shouldn't," he ground out, even as his hips pressed more insistently into yours, betraying the depth of his need. "It's wrong. But..."

You writhed against him, desperate for more friction, more contact. "But what?" you prompted breathlessly, already knowing the answer but needing to hear him say it.

Fukuzawa raised his head, his eyes locking with yours. In their depths, you saw the last vestiges of his resistance crumble, the iron bands of his control shattering like spun glass. When he spoke, his voice was low and rough, weighted with promise and dark, delicious threat.

"But...I can no longer stand by while you openly flaunt yourself at every available man in this office," he growled, his gaze dropping hungrily to your parted lips as if he was resisting the urge to claim them with his own. "No more games, no more teasing. You're mine, and I intend to make sure you never forget it."

You felt a delicious shiver rush through you at his tone - was this the unraveling you had been hoping to provoke? Boldly holding his smoldering stare, you replied, "Is that so? And what’re you going to do to me...Sir?"

A muscle ticked in his clenched jaw as he seemed to wrestle with his self-restraint. Then, quicker than you could react, his hand fisted in your hair, tugging your head back roughly.

"This..." he growled an instant before crushing his mouth against yours in a searing, hungry kiss.

You gasped at the ferocity of his passion, all the built-up tension he had been holding back now pouring into his ardent caresses. Your hands clutched at the front of his kimono as you met his fervor with your own desperate want.

Your fingers fumbled with the fabric as your mouth hungrily moved against his. He groaned into the searing kiss, the vibration sending sparks of need coursing through your veins. You managed to part the fabric enough to rake your nails over his toned chest, relishing in the way his muscles twitched at your touch.

Fukuzawa broke away with a ragged breath, his forehead pressed against yours as he gazed at you with molten eyes. "You've tormented me for far too long with your wanton behavior," he murmured, his voice strained with restrained desire. "Did you think I was blind to the way you paraded about, taunting me?"

You opened your mouth to respond, but any retort was swallowed by another kiss. This time he didn't hold back, pinning you firmly against the wall as one calloused hand boldly skimmed over the curve of your hip and thigh, squeezing your ass. You shuddered and arched shamelessly into his touch, silently pleading for him to continue his intoxicating exploration.

He trailed scorching open-mouth kisses along the column of your neck, his hot breath fanning over your sensitized skin. "Perhaps now you'll learn there are consequences for playing with fire," Fukuzawa rasped, his husky tone and the roll of his hips against yours making you dizzy with longing.

With your pussy throbbing and breath coming in shallow pants, you sought purchase by clutching at the broad planes of his back. All this time you had been determined to make this unshakable man crack - but now that he had, you were overwhelmed by the force of his smoldering passion. You wanted to drown in it, consequences be damned.

Fukuzawa's normally immaculate appearance was in delicious disarray - his kimono hanging open, hair tousled from your roaming hands. He pinned you with a look that made your insides liquify as his large, calloused hands skimmed over the bare skin of your thighs and lower back.

"Look at the temptress now," he rumbled, his voice husky and laced with want. "So responsive to my touch after batting those pretty lashes at every other man here."

You opened your mouth to respond, but only a breathy whimper escaped as Fukuzawa rolled his hips firmly against yours, allowing you to feel the undeniable hardness of his cock. Heat lanced through your cunt at the delicious friction.

"I should have acted on this long ago," he murmured against the sensitive skin just below your ear. "Shown you exactly where your teasing leads..."

His words had you trembling with heady anticipation. You fisted your hands in his kimono, tugging him even closer as your pulse thundered in your ears. "Then show me," you managed to rasp, throwing caution to the wind.

Fukuzawa's intense gaze searched yours for a molten moment before he captured your lips in another searing, demanding kiss. His large hands cradled you almost reverently as he walked you backwards towards the sofa, your sense of surroundings fading until there was only the roaring need between your entwined bodies.

With a resolute tug, your clothing began to peel away, his fiery caresses branding your bare skin as you finally surrendered to the lust that had been simmering for far too long. The air was thick and heavy with the weight of your desire, the office silent save for the mingled sounds of your heated breaths and moans.

The sofa bumped against the back of your legs and you tumbled onto it, gazing up at the imposing man towering over you. Even in this compromising position, Fukuzawa radiated authority, his gaze dark and intent as he drank in the sight of your naked, sprawled form.

"Do you have any idea what you do to me?" he rasped, the slight tremor in his voice betraying his barely leashed control.

You could hardly breathe, your heart pounding as his burning gaze devoured every inch of your exposed flesh. He knelt between your legs and you could only watch, entranced, as his rough hands skimmed slowly over your trembling thighs.

"Such a tempting little vixen, teasing her superior," he continued, his voice low and gravelly. "And now she's finally within reach."

He parted your legs further, his thumbs tracing torturous circles on the tender skin of your inner thighs. "I'm going to show you exactly what happens to girls who flaunt themselves."

You shivered as his breath ghosted over your damp folds. The anticipation was torture, the aching need between your legs throbbing with each passing moment. He continued to torture you, peppering kisses all across the taut skin of your inner thighs.

Then, just when you thought you couldn't stand it anymore, Fukuzawa's tongue dragged along your slit. You arched into him with a startled moan, his large hands gripping your thighs to keep you in place. His tongue delved deeper, slipping right between your soaked folds.

"Oh God," you whimpered, fisting your hands in his silver hair as pleasure coiled within you, winding tighter and tighter.

"That's right," he rumbled against your slick pussy lips. "I want to hear every sound you make."

His words were punctuated by the firm press of his tongue against your clit, sending a bolt of electricity arcing through you. Your head fell back against the sofa, a cry of pleasure escaping as he licked and sucked at the swollen bud.

Your breath came in ragged gasps, the pleasure so intense it was almost overwhelming. You could feel yourself hurtling towards the edge, every muscle coiling tight, desperate for release.

Then, just as you were about to cum, Fukuzawa pulled away. You whined in protest, the loss of his hot mouth on your dripping pussy nearly painful.

"Not yet," he said, his voice thick and hoarse with arousal. "I'm not finished with you yet."

With a strength that sent another surge of heat to your core, he flipped you onto your stomach, his hand pushing the small of your back to arch your ass into the air. Your breath caught as you felt him kneeling behind you, his thick length pressing teasingly against your folds.

"You have no idea how many nights l've imagined doing this to you," Fukuzawa growled, the head of his cock sliding slowly up and down your soaked pussy. "How many times l've had to stop myself from bending you over my desk and fucking you senseless."

You moaned and wriggled against him, desperate for him to fill you. "Please, Yukichi," you gasped, his name slipping past your lips without thinking.

At the sound of his name, he grinned widely, one hand coming up to swiftly slap your rear. "You will address me as 'sir'."

Another, harder, smack had you whimpering, the stinging sensation reverberating through your core. "Yes, Sir," you breathed, fingers baring a white-knuckled grip on the couch cushions.

He teased your folds with his cock, his hand kneading your reddened flesh. "Good girl," he murmured, watching the mushroom head of his cock disappear between your puffy lips.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity of teasing, he gripped his thick length and guided it to your slick entrance. You moaned as the tip slid into your cunt, your walls stretching deliciously around his girth.

"God, you're tight," he groaned, slowly easing himself deeper.

You gasped as he bottomed out, his hips flush against yours. The feeling of being so full, so stretched, was exquisite. You pushed back against him, wanting more.

With a deep groan, Fukuzawa began moving inside you, his thrusts slow and deep. He built a steady rhythm, his grip on your hips tightening as he pounded into you.

The sound of his skin slapping against yours was obscene, echoing in the quiet office. Pleasure coiled tighter within you, the tension ratcheting higher and higher with each thrust.

You could hear him grunting with exertion, the soft, guttural sounds of his pleasure driving you wild. The heat, the fullness, the overwhelming sensation of being fucked by the man who had consumed your every waking thought for months was almost too much to bear.

"Sir. Yukichi…fuck!" You gasped, your words dissolving into incoherence as his cock rubbed against that sweet spot deep inside you.

He grunted, his thrusts growing faster, more erratic. "Say my name again," he growled, his voice strained.

"Yukichi," you moaned, his name spilling from your lips like a prayer.

At the sound of his name, he groaned, his cock throbbing within you. He pounded into you harder, his fingers digging into your hips almost painfully.

You could feel yourself hurtling towards the edge, the wave of pleasure cresting inside you.

Just when you thought you couldn't take any more, his thumb found your clit, circling and rubbing the swollen nub.

That was all it took. You came with a wail, your walls clamping down on his thick cock. Your vision whited out as waves of ecstasy crashed over you, rippling through your entire body.

As you trembled through the aftershocks, Fukuzawa continued to fuck you, his pace erratic, his breathing ragged. He groaned as his cock pulsed within you, spilling his hot release.

He paused for a moment, his weight holding you down before he slowly pulled his hips back, letting his softening cock slip out of your cunt. He hissed softly as he watched his seed slowly seep out of you, unable to resist the urge to use his fingers to push it back where it belonged.

The room was filled with the sound of your labored breathing, the air heavy with the scent of cum and sweat.

You were spent, your body languid and boneless in the aftermath of your passionate encounter. Fukuzawa gathered you tenderly into his arms, cradling you against his chest as he settled onto the sofa. His touch was gentle, almost hesitant, as he held you close.

For a long moment, you simply sat there together, catching your breath, your racing hearts gradually slowing. The silence between you was comfortable, weighted with the significance of what had just transpired.

Eventually, Fukuzawa shifted, pressing a kiss to your temple before murmuring in your ear, "Come home with me."

You pulled back slightly to look at him, raising an eyebrow. "Are you sure that's wise?" you asked, a hint of playfulness in your voice despite the seriousness of the question.

Fukuzawa's mouth quirked up at the corner, his eyes glinting with a mix of amusement and determination. "Probably not," he admitted, his fingers tracing idle patterns on your bare shoulder. "But I find myself throwing wisdom to the wind where you're concerned."

You couldn't help but smile at that, a rush of affection and exhilaration coursing through you. This was uncharted territory, a leap into the unknown. But the thought of not taking that leap, of letting this chance slip through your fingers, was unthinkable.

"Well then," you said, your decision made, "lead the way."

Fukuzawa's grin widened, his hand tightening on your hip. "With pleasure."

#bsd smut #bsd x reader #bsd x reader smut #bsd fukuzawa #fukuzawa yukichi #fukuzawa yukichi smut #fukuzawa yukichi x reader #fukuzawa yukichi x reader smut #fukuzawa x reader #fukuzawa smut #fukuzawa x reader smut #yukichi x reader #yukichi smut #yukichi x reader smut

254 notes · View notes

ivystoryweaver · 10 months

Note

Would you mind writing a Miguel x f!reader fic where they are in a relationship and the reader is captured by a villain who's goal is to torture and ultimately kill her to gain information on the spider society? While the reader is missing and enduring the torture, she finds out from the villain that she's pregnant. Angst, hurt/comfort

I'm sorry this took so long, this idea is so freaking rad, i needed some time. I gave it a try!

Content: Hurt/comfort etc. See the ask above. Cursing, torture, injury, blood, pregnancy, violence

Word count: 2k

My Masterlist

Drip. Drip. Drip.

Your eyes slowly blinked open, heavy with exhaustion and burning as if you'd slept in contact lenses for a week.

Drip. Drip. Drip.

Your body ached. You felt cold. And wet? Why did you feel clammy in your own bed?

Drip. Drip...

Shifting uncomfortably, you found that your arms wouldn't move. Why couldn't you move your arms? A small whimper escaped your throat as your reality became plain to you.

This was not your bed. It was dark. Damp. And your arms and legs were bound. You were tied to a hard, metal chair. Panic spiked through your chest as you struggled against your restraints.

Squinting, you attempted to make out any details about your surroundings, but it was too dark.

"H-hello?" You rasped, finding your voice. You coughed, your voice hoarse from lack of use and from a terrible thirst. "Hello?" You tried again, pulling forcefully on your restraints.

As your breathing grew more shallow, you realized you were most certainly in trouble.

But why?

"I see you're awake."

You let out a small yelp when a sinister voice made itself known as someone emerged from the deep, shadowed corner.

"W-who are you?" You cried, squirming in futility. "Where am I?"

"Patience," the voice chided.

Your eyes strained but you still couldn't see.

"I have a few questions for you." The voice was male. Deep. That's all you could tell in the darkness.

"What?" You coughed out, desperate for water. "What do you want with me?"

No matter how you struggled, blinking, staring - your eyes would not adjust to the darkness.

You smelled his foul breath before you felt it brush your ear from behind you, caging you in with sickening possessiveness. "Tell me about the Spider Society."

Whimpering, you tried to shake him off you. "I don't know what you're talking about. Let me go."

You definitely knew what he was talking about. Your husband was the damn leader of it all.

He moved in closer, the stench of him making your skin crawl and your stomach churn. "We both know that's not true...Mrs. O'Hara."

Okay, that was more privileged information. Miguel at least attempted to keep his real name a secret.

You chomped down on your lip to keep from giving anything away but the bile in your stomach was not cooperating. You weren't sure what could possibly be worse than losing your stomach contents while bound, in some unknown, pitch black location.

"Not feeling so well, are we?" The voice taunted, after you wretched pitifully. "Maybe you have the flu?"

"Leave me alone," you spat, wiping your mouth the best you could manage with your shoulder.

After a long pause, the mysterious man granted your wish.

You were left in darkness - hungry, thirsty, cold and bound.

The biggest question besides where were you, and who had taken you was - how would you get out of here? Would Miguel be able to find you? You would die before endangering him or any of his friends or co-workers.

The man who had taken you must have realized this about you, and began to test your resolve.

You lost track of time. In the darkness, it could have been days that passed, or mere hours. It took some time for you to realize that you were being tortured - just not in the traditional slice-and-dice or head-dunked-in-water type of way.

They left you alone. Dark. Isolated. Then, without warning, some sort of bright light would shine on you - the brightest you'd ever seen. It burned red-orange right through your eyelids no matter how tightly you squeezed your eyes shut.

Your skin prickled with heat and you started to sweat. Just as you felt you would burn alive, the light would shut off. You cried out, blinded as colorful spots swirled before your eyes, making your stomach roil.

The darkness would consume you until you were freezing again. Then it would start over. Blinging light, blinding darkness. Over and over. Questions about your husband. And the other Spiders. It felt like a month had passed, it was so never-ending.

They tried to feed you but you couldn't keep anything down. You felt constantly sick. Someone even cleaned you up several times, since you weren't allowed the use of a restroom.

Finally, a needle was jabbed roughly into your arm, making you whimper in protest. Maybe it was poison. Probably for the best.

"Fluids," the voice informed. "Can't have Mrs. O'Hara dehydrated, can we?"

"Go to hell!" You weakly shouted. "I have nothing to tell you."

"You're lying," the man sneered, sickening you by brushing your matted hair away from your face with calloused fingertips. "You're going to tell me about your husband, I promise you."

You spat in his face, though your dehydration didn't afford you very much spit to begin with.

"I know you think you're strong," he taunted, pushing his disgusting hand over your abdomen, making your skin crawl. It was humiliating enough that people were cleaning up your messes, and now he wanted to touch you?

Miguel would rip him apart.

"I wasn't sure at first, why you can't keep any food down," he went on, rubbing your stomach possessively. "You're not sick - we tested for that."

"You...what?" You groaned, completely revolted at the feel of this man's hand, and the thought of him running some sort of tests on you.

His foul breath tickled your ear as he pushed two fingers hard into your abdomen. "You don't seem to respond well to our...techniques." He menacingly breathed. "But maybe you'll change your mind to protect your child."

Shuddering, your body went limp as tears stung your eyes. "I have no children. If you know who I am, then you know that."

Pressing your abdomen forcefully, he made you gasp in pain. "You do now." Then he nuzzled your ear. "That's why I'm giving you fluids. Can't let anything happen to your unborn child. Especially one that's half-spider."

"No!" You wailed, jerking against his hold on you. "No, I'm not! I'm not..." Tears spilled down your cheeks as you realized the truth. The nausea, the fatigue - your period was late. "No..." you whimpered.

"You know I'm right," the voice taunted. "And now that you know, I'm sure you'll be much more cooperative."

After that encounter, you were released from your bonds, given the chance to shower and change clothes. You actually attempted to choke down a meal as well.

Then it got worse. True, there was no more light/dark torture. And you weren't left in the freezing cold, but now the questions were asked with a knife to your abdomen. This was after you were shown proof of your pregnancy. A rapid heartbeat. A positive blood and urine test.

Miguel wanted to be a father so badly and you had tried for almost three years. Hell, his very favorite activity was trying to get you pregnant. He kept better track of your cycle than you did, and trying, if nothing else, had been a delicious endeavor.

So, if anything happened to this baby - if you let anything happen, Miguel would be devastated. But you couldn't endanger his life, nor anyone in the Spider Society. Despair filled your heart and mind as a choice placed itself before you.

Days upon days must have passed. You managed to not answer any important questions, but you paid like hell for it. Tiny cuts littered your body. The mysterious man used the knife, but thankfully, not anywhere near your abdomen.

Until one day, he did.

You cried and you begged, but because you wouldn't answer him, he did the unthinkable.

That was the worst mistake he ever made.

Now that you knew he was willing to hurt your unborn child and likely had already done so, there was no way you would ever talk.

"My husband will rip your fucking throat out," you croaked as warm blood pooled in the waistband of your pants, dripping down your legs.

"Like the vampire he is," the man sneered. "I know what he is. A monster."

"You're damn straight," you panted, feeling weak from blood loss. "He's going to use his talons to do everything you've done to me, cut for cut. You'll wish you were dead, I promise you."

"At least I'll die knowing I took his child from him," he darkly laughed. "If he ever finds you - which will never happen."

"Don't be so sure, pinche pendejo," the voice of your husband pierced the darkness.

Your entire body gave out, not only from exhaustion and blood loss but from overwhelming relief. A door was flung open and light was able to spill into the room.

"H-how did you..." the mysterious man croaked, calling out for his comrades.

Gripping him by the throat, Miguel lifted him several inches off the floor. "Spiders love the dark." Raising his free arm - talons fully extended, Miguel tore into the man's flesh, rapidly slicing him to ribbons, before doing just what you predicted. Baring his fangs, Miguel sank his teeth into the man's throat and ripped out his jugular.

The man's limp body dropped to the floor, making you whimper in relief...and honestly, a little bit of horror.

Whirling around, Miguel used the sleeve of his spider suit to wipe the blood from his chin before dropping to his knees.

Crimson eyes scanning you frantically, he didn't know where to touch you first.

"Baby? Baby are you hurt?" His hands flew all over you, stopping when his fingers grazed your abdomen.

"Miguel," you whimpered, hands pressing as hard as you could manage into your knife wound. Blood seeped through your fingers, warm and sticky.

"I've got you, honey, hold on," he soothed, easily lifting your much smaller frame into his arms.

"More of them," you murmured, collapsing against his chest, the solid warmth of him the first relief you'd felt in days. "There are more..."

"They're dead," he answered you, pressing a quick kiss to your hairline. "You're safe, mi vida."

"My stomach," you slurred, feeling consciousness slip away from you. "M-my baby..."

"Hold on, baby, hold on," Miguel whispered, gripping you tightly.

"Miguel...I'm sorry."

That was the last thing you remembered.

The next time you awakened, you didn't know where you were. Panic snaked its way around your heart until your eyes landed on the sleeping form of your husband, adorably cramped in a chair beside your bed.

Stupidly attempting to sit up, you winced, feeling the sting in your abdomen. Then you remembered - you had been stabbed. Multiple times - but those were shallow, feeble attempts to get you to talk. But then he tried to kill you. And your baby.

Fear gripped your heart, squeezing the breath out of you as you yanked your blankets away, pulling up the soft gown you wore to try and see...

"Hey, hey, it's okay."

Miguel was suddenly awake and at your side, gently grasping your arms to stop your flailing. "You'll rip your stitches."

"My baby," you gasped, your chest heaving with shallow breaths as you fruitlessly fought the massive strength of your husband's grip.

"Calm down, honey, please." Forcing your arms still, he eased onto the edge of the bed, holding you still. Dropping his forehead to yours, his heart shattered at the sight of your tears.

"I'm so sorry," you whimpered, even as he shushed you soothingly. "My baby - "

"Is fine," Miguel swore, reaching up to tenderly caress your cheek. Easing back, his scarlet gaze locked onto yours and he nodded reassuringly - the faintest smile brightening his eyes. "Our baby is okay. Strong heartbeat. You're eleven weeks along."

Shaking your head in disbelief, your lip trembled. "But - but he stabbed me. He tried to kill my baby..."

"I know, sweetheart," Miguel soothed, gingerly pulling you into his arms. "I know he hurt you. I'm sorry. So sorry." Rocking you slowly in his protective embrace, he pressed a fierce kiss to your temple. "You're safe now. You and our baby. I promise you."

✧ ˚ · .✧ ˚ · .✧ ˚ · .✧ ˚ · .✧

Miguel O'Hara Masterlist

Main Masterlist

Follow @ivystoryupdates and turn on notifications to never miss an update

Join my tag list - for chaptered fics and short stories only

@deputy-videogamer @toecurlingstories @zephyrixx @juleshadalittlelamb @thexsanctuaryx @tsukkie-daisuke @pockcock @minigirl87 @wordacadabra @lilacspider @imonmykneessir saints-and-sinners @steven-grants-world

#this is my first ask #as in request #i have no idea what i'm doing babes #miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara fic #miguel o'hara x reader #tw torture #tw pregnancy #miguel o'hara x f!reader #across the spiderverse #across the spiderverse fic #au #i gues

531 notes · View notes

lirational · 5 months

Note

Eleven thirsts,

Hmmm I’d imagine alpha!Eleven to be quite possessive of her omega as well as partake in exhibitionism

Like imagine she’s fucking you during a stream, not only showing you off to everyone but also showing everyone that you are hers and that she alone can only bring you this pure sexual bliss

I’d also like to think she’s the clingy aftercare type. Cuddling and kissing you after you two finish a couple rounds of love making

Very cute in my opinion

(Unbeta’d) smut under the cut. Minors DNI!

Disclaimer that I am only halfway through the event, sorry!

Warnings: Exhibitionism, Eleven has a cock (obviously), knotting.

It was like the barrier between your thoughts and your lips were demolished, each thrust of Eleven’s cock causing you to shudder and grip the edges of the table tighter, tighter until you swore you could feel something shatter beneath your fingers.

She savored each sharp intake of breath, each gasp as you felt her thrust hitting that sweet, sweet spot inside you, each whisper of her name, and each plea torn between wanting her to stop or to continue, her teasing remarks adding fuel to the fire as she answered the questions from people who were calling her. It was late at night, making it almost all too easy to convince anyone that there was really nothing else going on, as Eleven answered their questions with her usual friendly demeanor. She was fully in her element, a contrast to you, where each slow thrust were a battle to keep your voice down and hopefully not make a fool of yourself—

A press on the bulge on your lower belly obliterated your thoughts, as you let out a loud, unmistakable moan, shattering all semblance of dignity you managed to scrounge up.

“There is no need to be nervous, you’re already singing for everyone here, right?” She whispered, each word from her sinful tongue intensifying the scent of camellia in the air, clinging onto your senses to obscure everything else. Eleven was quick to tease the current caller when they asked what was going on, and yet, you cannot afford to feel bad for the clueless caller as they became flustered, stuttering an apology as they hung up the phone, the suddeness of it causing a couple of beeps.

“Well, it seems our caller ‘D’ here chose to not continue our call. Regardless, I wish them good luck in their romantic endeavors.”

There was a devious lilt to her voice as she gripped your hips tight, a low groan escaping her as she sheathed herself fully to the hilt.

“Oh, what is it? I should make a segment where I give advice? Thank you, I might consider it,”

Drool had escaped the corner of your lips, sweat dripping to the scripts she had set up as aid, yet she didn’t seem to mind, treating each thrust as a game, until not even her prowess could hide what was going on in the room.

Crimson lit up your cheeks at the thought.

“Oh, you like this, my little omega? Both of us teetering on the, aah, brink of discovery?” She whispered, her voice low. She was close, you could feel how her body tremble, how her cock twitches inside you as you both teeter closer to a satisfying release. “So insatiable, so good, and all mine, close and caged together with me~”

With the final word, she bit on the nape of your neck, bruising your skin as you felt her paint your insides with white, enough to fill you to the brim. Her release heralded your own, as you saw white not a few seconds later, creating a mess of stringy white on her dress, your voice practically telling everyone that you two were locked by the hip the whole time. Despite the challenge, Eleven didn’t even frown, as she stared at the mixture of your mess staining her clothes with eyes full of desire.

“You did so good, good girl, all for me,” she murmured onto your skin, tenderly kissing the dip of your shoulder in a gesture of pure affection. A quick farewell marked the end of her stream, then she pressed you against her shoulder, ruffling your head as she tells you to rest for now until she could pull herself out of you.

As you closed your eyes, she eyed where her cock were buried inside you, humming in satisfaction at the mixture of fluids.

Perhaps, both of you could take a warm bath later.

#path to nowhere x reader #path to nowhere #ptn x reader #path to nowhere headcanons #ptn eleven x reader

289 notes · View notes

velvetmud · 1 year

Note

joel asks you to tell him about all the other people you’ve fucked over the years while he eats your pussy

im down bad

warning(s): explicit 18+, maaad dirty talk, daddy kink, cum play, possessiveness

the instant he hears it he feels a smile spread involuntarily, hearing that bratty whining only grow more and more desperate by the lick.

“tell me again, sweet thing. repeat to me what you said and I’ll keep licking this wet pussy up.”

his eyebrows wiggle while he wipes off her juice with his thumb, head tilted to the side kneeling nice and snug right between her open thighs. looking at her expectedly, he resumes his favorite teasing of marking and sucking some hickies on her. a love letter etched into her skin to mark her just long enough to get hard for the next week catching glimpses of them until they inevitably fade.

by the time she gets around to following his rules and not just hopelessly clenching around nothing right next to his face, her skin is scattered in deep red and purple.

“I said that y-you’re the best I’ve ever had, no one else ever….ever—”

she trails off to aimlessly grind down lower to at least get some friction on his nose, or fuck, she’d even go for his chin. pitifully crying out to him.

“s’right babygirl, behaving so good. you keep singin’ to me like that. no one else eats you out, or fucks you hard as I do. and no one else ever will.”

as soon as he’s done whispering he’s buried himself back and dug right in, that shameless slippery tongue slurping her fresh neglected juice.

joel’s thirst was insatiable. he spent time smoothing over each side of her bulging clit. moans while his lips were still kissing hers, adding low vibrations. the wet smacking became obscene.

“mmm, baby I can taste how good you feel. this poor little pussy jus’ needed some more attention,” he says, nuzzling down as close as her skin would allow and slowly sucking the pulsing hood of her clit. “this pussy could never need too much love from daddy, baby. I’ve always got you. always. keep clenching down on me like that, fuck…. it won’t stop dripping…. mmm, that’s it. get that all over me.”

“yes, yes—need it so bad joel,” she nods, tear brimmed eyes squeezed shut and mouth stuck wide open. he’s enamored by the sight of her little blissed out expressions and motions, greedily guiding the tip of his tongue right back where it belongs. joel doesn’t mind one bit, almost chuckling as he grants her more of his mouth.

“bet a perfect pussy like this one hasn’t been treated right, babygirl. wanna worship it,” he proclaimed, pushing his tongue out and zig-zagging down her entire front. utterly dirty and depraved with her milky evidence still smeared on and around his lips. “wanna worship you.”

“please, just like that, just like that—oh my god, who taught you that?!” she squeals, full body quivering. her rosey cheeks flush and shine with a glowy dew.

he can’t help but flash her a mischevious side grin before taking another selfish moment to suck on her clit. he relished in the heavenly feminine howling and shaking when he pops it in and out of his sloppy lips.

“always dreamed of doin’ it. so once I got my first girlfriend I asked her to sit on my face and show me how she liked it. do that enough with every girl, bound to pick up a few things.”

“holy fuck I need to send her a gift basket later,” she heaves. joel can’t help but laugh, then sneaks down to quench his thirst with her wetness again.

joel starts to think. “what ‘bout you, huh? don’t think I’ll be sending any of the boys from your past any fruit baskets.” he scoffs, still light hearted enough. petting the smooth path going down to her inner thighs. she sighs and rolls her eyes at him, thinking she could leave it at that.

“uh, think we both can take a wild guess how those went. keep going, god dammit. why’d you stop?”

joel’s possessive nature starts to glare through his bravado. squeezing the meat of both thighs in both his palms, he maintains his stubborn grip and locks her eyes with his.

“want you to describe it for me. first time you let a cock slide in here,” he instructs. two of his pointer fingers push inside with slick helping smooth the way. she helplessly clamps down on him and doesn’t know where to start. “he still remember how lucky he was? fucking this tight, sopping, bratty little pussy?”

she shook her head, frowning with frustration at his efforts to stall her pending climax. “shit, I don’t know, don’t even fucking care at this point—“

joel interrupts her with a sadistic shrug as he twists and scissors his fingers. “well then, guess you don’t get to cum ‘til tomorrow morning.”

”fuck you, miller!” she spits out, grumpy and petulant. kicking her feet on the bed repeatedly before clearing her throat and thinking.

joel’s hooded eyes idly fade shut as he runs the slope of his nose all around her. patiently waiting.

“he… we fucked after gym class in his car after skipping. if I’m being generous for him, it was like, probably a three out of ten. you happy? ”

he smiles and laughs, lying his cheek down on one of her bare spread legs. “can imagine it now. little school girl goes to play a little hooky, being bad with her boyfriend. sure sounds cute. bet he didn’t go down on you like this first, though,” his saliva slick tongue flicks on the needy pulsing bean between her lips.

“fu-uck, no, not like this. never you’re—fuck, you’re my favorite.”

“ever sleep with any old men like me? they take one look at you like I did, then all’s they can think about is bending this over?”

his girthy knuckles squeeze her cheeks.

“joel…… my god….”

“answer me.” his tone left little to argue. the fat tip of his tongue wets her outer lips, teasing around her clit.

her head shook back and forth in misery, dancing on the brink to all but get herself yanked right back down by his endless torture.

“fucked this guy twice my age to trade for his guns. he was big, I’ll give him that. but didn’t know what to do with it. I ended up with all the work.”

joel doesn’t contain his urge to scoff in disbelief. “where did he cum? inside you?” as he murmured the question, the tip of his finger pecked inside, like he was pointing to demonstrate it to her. she closes her eyes and shakes her head, sighing helplessly.

“no, on my back.”

“dirty dirty girl, trading guns to get some old man’s cum all over your back. taking you, using you….” his heartbeat gets louder in his cock, veins popping out just thinking about it. to satisfy his aching hunger, he hums along her open cunt and sucks on her clit.

“finishing all over you…”

kicking and screaming, her tone is dead serious when she warns him to stop or she’ll cum. can’t take the flick of his tongue anymore, or the ghost of his lips wrapped around her clit.

he angrily spews at her to cum all over his tongue and she gratefully obeys, whining as her lower half pounds his wet warm mouth. more juices leak down the harder he sucks and licks.

he welcomes the salty mess splashing and gushing on his mouth. down below his dick wanted to steal his attention, drooling clear drops down his head setting his base. the grind down on the bed felt close to heaven, but not as close as hearing his name and watching her shake. he treats the act no different than if it were a buffet, stuffing his face with everything she had to give him.

it’s her that pushes him away first, weak and throbbing while she finished coming down. she doesn’t register anything after that. not even the desperate huffing and groaning coming out of the man’s breath while he gets himself going. he gets up on his knees and doesn’t waste any time to fist the head, looking right at her. fixated.

“turn around.” he commands.

“what’re you up to?” she slurs, lazily flipping over. still dopey, in and out of a daze, just the way he hopes to have her.

“marking my territory,” he answers easily, giving his thick base long strokes to warm up. she wiggles her body back and forth for him, spreading herself to give him another visual to get off on. it doesn’t take longer than a dozen harsh pumps before he feels the rush.

“now I’ll be the last one that got to cum all over this back.”

thank you for anons,love,reblogs,any interacting whatsoever could bring me to tears man. I love it

it’s been a couple weeks im alive tho 🙂

masterlist

#joel miller smut #joel miller fanfic #joel miller x reader #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller #joel miller/reader #joel miller x you #the last of us #tlou fanfic #ask #anon #pedro pascal

955 notes · View notes

cheezbites · 8 months

Text

Dating Ghost Part 2

︵‿︵‿︵୨♡୧‿︵‿︵‿

✎: Part one’s my blog with the most notes, so I’ll give you guys a part two<3!!

♡Summary: Wholesome headcanons of dating Ghost PT.2

Bf!Ghost is an extremely light sleeper. His time in the army caused him to be on guard 24/7, even when he’s asleep. Slightest movement or sound? he’s grunting himself awake. Every once in a while, you’d have nightmares. Some more scarier than the others - but the one you had this night was unlike any other - it felt all too real, traumatising and daunting. You jolted yourself awake and steadied a hand to your shaky chest to regulate your breathing, a few uncontainable tears trickling down your face.

You unknowingly twisted and turned in the midst of your unpleasant dream, so the moment you woke up Simon was already conscious. He has a concerned and worried expression etched onto his face; he caringly held both arms out to coo soft reassurances into your ear as he planted soft kisses on your temples. He didn’t need to know anything else, the moment he spotted any pain was the moment he became your personal shoulder to cry on.

He held you close in his arms whilst he stroked your hair - making you fall asleep ten times faster. Simon found himself having a better time sleeping with your comforting figure in his hold, too. So if you’ve got a nightmare and you’re in need of physical reassurance, you’ve already got it without even asking.

Bf!Ghost is a compulsive tea drinker - no big surprise to anyone. He had an urge to drink tea at an ungodly hour, same with you having an uncontrollable thirst, needing to be immediately quenched. Finding no water on your nightstand, you cursed yourself under your breath before drowsily entering the kitchen.

Your fatigue blurred your awareness of your surroundings, making you fail to realise that Simon wasn’t besides you when you stirred yourself awake. You jumped when you entered the kitchen and were met with the kettle faintly churning in the background as Simon was leaning against the countertop, awaiting his boiling water.

“Hello, stranger.” You said, filling a cup with water and greedily chugging it to your heart’s content.

“Why are you awake?” he asked, vaguely smiling, registering the irony of his question.

“I don’t know… why are you awake?” you swiftly rinsed your cup before placing it on the dish rack.

You found yourselves having a brief bantering conversation around the dinner table before heading off to bed. You, with your third glass of water, and Simon, with his savoured cup of black tea.

Bf!Ghost would mutter a distinguishable “Fuckin’ hell,” under his breath whenever something upsetting or irksome happens. Like accidentally spilling juice and so on.

You inattentively dropped a glass, frustratedly clenching your fists to your sides, a “Fuckin’ hell..!” reflexively flew past your lips before you knew it. You didn’t even realise it in the moment, but Simon did. He just stood there for a moment, like he was confirming if it actually happened - and when he finally did, he heartily chuckled to himself before infinitely teasing you about it. From that point on, “Fuckin’ hell” was now your guys’s inside joke.

Bf!Ghost enjoyed the little things with you. He loved your occasional walks at late noon or night (sometimes when it rains) as you both share an AirPod. It’s like a utopian escape from everything and everyone - nobody is out. It’s just you two, your music and definite love for one another.

Bf!Ghost was an undeniable ass guy. The constant ass grabbing started from a harmless joke you incited. You were behind him as he was walking up the stairs, you couldn’t help but playfully grab his ass and let a, “Nice ass,” slip out.

You never heard (or felt) the end of that.

His hands would constantly be cupping, squeezing or even spanking your ass at times. Depends on how mischievous he’s feeling.

Bf!Ghost is possessive of you in public - not in a red flag way. Planting a sudden passionate kiss on your cheeks or lips when any dude would stare at you, holding your hand or purse for you as you walked down the street, or tying your laces for you. Anything for his princess, really.

Bf!Ghost also loved going on late night drives with you, to do anything or go anywhere - it doesn’t matter. It’s always fun as fuck when it’s just you two and an unplanned drive down any accessible road. Either visit somewhere you’ve been meaning to go or watch the night sky twinkling around the city lights. It never seemed to matter what you did, what did matter was that you were both having a really good time with each other’s comfort.

Bf!Ghost is a really wonderful cook. Outside of fish chips tea and gravy and all that mumbo-jumbo he can cook. Hand him some random seasonings and meats you’ve brought from the market and he’ll have a delicious three course meal prepared in no time. He even lets you try small samples of whatever he’s cooking up by teasingly spoon feeding you.

“Seriously, Simon?” you groaned, darting your gaze between the spoon nearing your lips and his playful expression. He always had a quick smart-mouthed reply to your complaining like, “Say ahhh” or “Aeroplane’s coming, sweetheart,” and you’d contently giggle as you gave in and allowed him to feed you. If there was a minor spill he’d gently pat your face down with a tissue, making you roll your eyes and teasingly nudge him.

And before you knew it, you’d greedily finish whatever he’s allowing you to taste, even when you were meant to have only a teaspoon. He didn’t really mind, though - he took it as a compliment, even, promptly refilling your plate each time you asked for more.

Bf!Ghost took taking care of you really seriously, maybe too serious. He knew all the right medications, techniques and ways of comforting you when you were experiencing any type of discomfort of cold.

He made frequent visits to the pharmacy, daily check ups, nourishing teas and all that good stuff. You felt horrible and nauseous every time you were sick, from your raspy and stuffy voice to the irritating dryness in the back of your throat. At the same time, you felt like the luckiest girl in the world knowing your boyfriend cared and put so much time and effort into you.

Bf!Ghost doesn’t really know how to apologise; it’s just ‘not in his nature’. As much as he hated seeing you all pouty and upset after any mild argument or disagreement, he felt as if he’d somehow manage to fuck up the situation even more by apologising. So, he’d give you your space then make you your favourite beverage, just the way you liked it. (He randomly memorised the oddly specific way you like your tea/coffee), he would make himself a cuppa - he settled your drink in front where you were situated, you were watching some TV show in the living room, your eyes defeatedly lit up as you both endured in a comfortable silence, sipping your beverages as the TV faintly played in the background. You slowly began talking again, like you were rekindling a fire, and before you knew it you were both giggling and chatting away - discarding the unpleasant past and leaving it behind you guys.

But you knew Simon loved you; he didn’t have to express his sorry’s through words. His thought out actions always spoke louder.

PART THREE IS OUT FOR THE GREEDY MFS😋!!

Part One

Soap Version

Price Version

König Version

Gaz Version

Masterlist

225 notes · View notes

scaredycatqlt · 3 months

Note

Some silly platonic headcanons of bill cipher x reader pls?

Oh hell yeah!!! I love my lil AroAce triangle >:3

Bill Cipher X Reader [PLATONIC!]

Alright, well, for starters, how you became friends could vary.

Either you’re some messed up otherworldly creature with a thirst for chaos and destruction like him, or some unsuspecting human. Or maybe you knew what you were doing? Who knows! Bill knows.

Regardless, at first he doesn’t pay you much mind. You’re simply another pawn on the chessboard to him.

He can get bored easy, so he hangs out around you a lot. Not for long, mainly frequent short visits.

He finds you amusing, you and your antics! If you’re a dimensional thing like him, he’s quick to invite you to join him in wrecking havoc. If you’re a human, he’s more still in the ‘I’m better lol’ mindset.

When you guys are finally friends, he will try to convince you to let him possess you. Not all the time! And very infrequently! Come on, won’t you help a pal out?

His love language (PLATONICALLY) is acts of service and gift giving. He’s not an emotional being by any means at all, so this is how he expresses his care for you.

As canonically presented, his gifts are kinda…..messed up.

deer teeth, a eternal screaming head, weird shit in general.

Also with acts of service he totally offers to take care of anything bothering you. Someone annoyed you? He can get rid of them! Don’t you worry your fuzzy little head!

A litttlleeee bit of a platonic yandere but who here’s surprised….

He does a lot of small things for you that you might not notice. Like picking something up, summoning an object, giving you whatever small thing you happen to want at that time, yeah.

If something happened to you he’d probably go crazy ngl.

You’re like his partner in crime!

Also, if you’re human he makes sure you’re taking care of your meat-suit properly.

Have you drank water? Eaten? Slept? Done all the human things?

One last thing, I feel like Bill would love Doritos. I know this kinda doesn’t match the theme, but there used to be this whole ‘Bill hates Doritos they’re his species :(‘ kinda thing and while it is funny, personally I disagree. I think he’d find it hilarious, and probably eat them specifically because they look like him. He’s a little creacher.

Here they are!! Again, sorry it took forever. I’ve been busy with school n shit, but I’m working on these requests one by one.

#gravity falls x reader #gravity falls headcanons #gravity falls #headcanons #x reader #reader insert #gender neutral reader #platonic love #bill cipher #bill ci the all seeing eye

95 notes · View notes

2amtechnicolor · 1 year

Text

We Need To Talk About Mahiru

Mahiru's second Trial is out and oh my god she just jumped up on my faves list. I love analyzing the MVs from different perspectives so I thought I'd give my 2 cents on Mahiru's character.

My vote: INNOCENT

The first thing I really feel the need to bring up is that people tend to ignore that Mahiru is actually very intelligent. There's multiple kinds of intelligence, and while she might not be "traditionally" smart in the linguistic sense, she's incredibly emotionally intelligent. She's a master of empathy and mood making and is an incredibly charming talker to the point you don't realize she's completely controlling the conversation. That being said, I genuinely don't think she uses her intelligence for malicious gains.

One of the theories going around with her first MV was that she was overbearing to the point of being abusive, while being oblivious to her own toxicity. Now after rereading and rewatching, I'm inclined to disagree. Her love may be seen as overbearing to some but we have not seen any explicit bad behavior towards her boyfriend. (Contrast with someone like Muu, who was revealed to have bullied as much as she was bullied herself). In my unpopular opinion, I genuinely think Mahiru was in a "healthy" relationship, at least on the surface.

[TW for discussions of death, murder, and fictional depictions of suicide]

[Side Note: One of the sticking points people have while saying "Mahiru was toxic" is that "Mahiru's relationship only lasted 16 days" which is blatantly not true when you check the translations for MV1. Day 1 takes place during college finals (mid-March-ish in JPN), Day 7 explicitly takes place in the summer, and Day 15 is New Year's Day (January). Mahiru's affection towards her boyfriend lasted almost a year, and they dated for around 6 months-ish during that. The "16 Day Memorial" isn't about a period of 16 days, it's about 16 days over the course of their relationship where she was explicitly making moves towards her boyfriend.]

I need you to take a real hard look at how Mahiru talks about "love" and "being in love." More specifically, when she talks about the concept of "love," she often brings up the action of "loving/showing love" in her explanation. Never once have I heard her say "My boyfriend loved me." or "This is what my boyfriend did for me." The focus is all on her actions towards the boyfriend. And I genuinely think she was a sweet girlfriend! She loved trying his hobbies and cooking his favorite foods and going to his favorite spots. She was sweet, and kind, and playful, and maybe just a bit clingy. But she was never jealous or possessive.

Es: I see. So, you became a murderer as a result of some relationship conflicts? Jealousy… Grudges… Having your partner stolen from you… Those stories aren’t all that uncommon now are they?

Mahiru: You’re wrong. It wasn’t that. I…never even wanted to kill anyone in the first place!

She explicitly states that her crime was not based off of negative feelings towards her boyfriend, but she still takes responsibility for what happened. Compare that to Fuuta, who, despite his own feelings of guilt, continually verbally denied that he had anything to do with his victim's death. Mahiru not only takes explicit responsibility, but also pins her "love" as his cause of death, to the point where if she was voted guilty, she would never try to love anyone again. Without "loving" anyone, she has no reason to live.

"To not forgive me means to take the act of loving away from me. That’s the same as not being alive. It’s the same as not being able to drink water or breathe."

It's interesting the way she compares basic needs to "the act of loving". Not the concept of "love" itself, but the act of showing someone love. If she is not allowed to show someone love, to her it's like suffocating, like dying of thirst, or maybe...dying of starvation?

Mahiru in her second MV may be dirty and barefoot with torn clothes, but the one thing she is not is starving. You could argue that "perhaps it doesn't show," but when compared to her boyfriend...

She's incredibly healthy.

And of course she's healthy! Her lovely boyfriend's been feeding her those bites of cake! So is the cake "love" then? But if the cake is love, why is her boyfriend, the one whose being "smothered," the one starving?

Feeding the cake doesn't represent "love." Feeding the cake also doesn't represent "the act of loving." Feeding the cake represents the boyfriend letting Mahiru "love" him. Does that make sense?

The boyfriend lets himself be vulnerable, he feeds pieces of himself to Mahiru for her to "love." But yet, he himself is starving.

...Have you even noticed Mahiru hates talking about herself?

It's evident from her first interrogation. Es can barely get two words in before Mahiru interrupts them to ask them questions about themselves or to offer her own advice to problems she thinks Es may be having.

Es: Oh… yeah. Uh… I apologise for that.

Mahiru: Did you zone out just then? This job must be pretty difficult, so you might be mentally burned out from work. Herbal tea’s good for that, you know? Oh! Like ginkgo tea—they say it helps improve brain function.

Es: Oh, is that so? I’ll try a bit then… I mean, no! Enough about me.

Compared to one of the few times Es gets a question in:

Es: I don’t completely understand what you’re saying, but… Being in love and loving someone—are they really that important?

Mahiru: They are.

Es: Hm.

Mahiru: They are… More so than anything else.

When reflected back to her, her answered become short and vague. Her voice grows soft and shy. She avoids questions, especially questions about difficult topics, not because she doesn't understand the gravity of them (like Haruka) but because she does. Like I said at the top, she's incredibly emotionally intelligent. She was beaten nearly to death because Kotoko decided to be Es's "fang", and yet she still empathizes with them. She still makes a strong attempt to see their point of view, and even to encourage Es to keep working hard. Compared to the other attacked prisoner we've seen, Fuuta, who blames and grovels for forgiveness, these responses are like night and day.

But what do we know about Mahiru, really?

She's 22

She's a university student

She likes romantic novels, comic, and dramas

She loves love. [But she's not obsessed with being loved. Haruka is obsessed with being loved, Haruka wants to be loved and taken care of, Haruka killed out of jealousy and for attention because he didn't feel loved enough. We never get that from Mahiru.]

Everything else we know about Mahiru? Is for other people.

Her favorite hobbies? Whatever her partner is doing.

Her fashion sense? Whatever will catch her partner's eye.

Her favorite food? Well, as long her partner cooks it, anything's her favorite!

The only time we ever get a sense of her and her boyfriend possibly disagreeing on something is Day 14 in MV1. Mahiru wants to see a French film and begs her boyfriend to take her. This is odd, because just a few scenes ago, she was bragging about how their tastes in films perfectly line up. If their tastes are the same, why would she have to beg him to take her to see this one?

Mahiru, like Yuno, is hiding behind a facade. But unlike Yuno, Mahiru doesn't have a strong core underneath her mirroring. Yuno can drop her "nice girl" act and she still has strong opinions and feelings and acts accordingly. Mahiru, when you try to go behind her mask, clams up, redirects, searches for a way out.

So. Back to cake.

The boyfriend feeds pieces of himself to Mahiru. He makes himself vulnerable, he lets her in, lets her care for him, lets her "love" him.

But Mahiru? She never feeds him until the very end, and even then, her "cake" isn't anything edible.

She's not stupid. She knows she can't give him what he really wants: any sort of vulnerability.

Their relationship is one-sided, but not because Mahiru is toxic or the boyfriend is apathetic. Their relationship is one sided because that's how Mahiru wants it to be. She wants to be the perfect girlfriend, because, if we're being honest, Mahiru doesn't like herself very much.

Why else would she hate talking about herself? She clearly loves to chat.

She puts her all into everything...as long as it's for someone besides her.

She will outright ignore her own pain and suffering, her own emotions, because she doesn't want to make anyone else upset.

Mahiru: Sorry… for making you worry. I’m fine! It doesn’t hurt at all.

Es: It’s a horrible injury. There’s no way it doesn’t hurt.

Mahiru: It doesn’t!

So why did her boyfriend die?

Mahiru's very good at hiding her emotions. If she slipped up and her boyfriend realized and noticed how she refused to love herself, it could cause friction in their otherwise perfect relationship.

Maybe Mahiru was the one who wanted to die in the woods, and her boyfriend, starved for any sort of real connection to her, found her at the last moment? Maybe her mental health dragged his down with her.

Mahiru's incredibly complex and tragic and endlessly relatable. She only loves too much because she can't love herself. If she's truly unforgivable, and she keeps her promise to stay alone...what's stopping her from killing the only thing she hates most?

#milgram #mahiru shiina #this is how to be in love with you #character analysis #i love you #daisuki #meta #deco*27 #milgram project #mahiru innocent #i log into the milgram fandom #i post a 1.5k word essay #i leave for another 5 months #lux talks

331 notes · View notes

a-world-of-whimsy-5 · 11 months

Note

Hello,if of course you wanted and if it was your will, could you write something about Thranduil. About how once, while returning to his Kingdom, he came across a slave trade where he saw an elven woman who was scared and emaciated. Thranduil is moved by this and buys her out, then takes her to the palace, though she is distrustful, appreciates him helping her, and over time I fall in love with him. You don't have to agree with this, but it may have been after Thranduil became King, but also before his son was born. Of course, if you want to write about it, and that would be your will...

Hello! I wrote this event taking place just after the sinking of Beleriand, with Oropher ruling Greenwood the Great and sections of Middle Earth being a bit of a dumpster fire after the War of Wrath. I hope you don’t mind the change. This is part one. Part two should be out in a fortnight, or just after that, and from Thranduil’s POV.

“A Better Future” Part 1

Pairing: Thranduil x Fem. Reader (Elf/Noldor |Third Person POV)

Themes: Angst | Dark

Wordcount : 2.3K words

Summary: An elf of the Noldor finds herself on the auction block, facing a dreary future.

A/n: For Lady Githa I drew inspiration from Six of Crows’ Tante Heleen. Most of part one is around reader's backstory, and there is only some dialog towards the end.

Minors DNI

Y/Ns POV

Y/n was still drowsy when she opened her eyes. She had seen herself with her father, listening to him play the harp and sing while her mother sewed away by the fire. There were hot pies and fresh fruit and cheese to nibble on, and her father would leave the harp to indulge in her thirst for tales of the Blessed Realm. Home was safe and warm, and everyone was alive.

Such a beautiful dream. And a dream it would forever be. Y/n threw back the rags that served as coverlets and sat up straight on the pallet that served as a featherbed. Her back ached after a night of fitful sleep. She glanced around the near-empty chamber, which was barely large enough for her. There were no possessions here, and she was not allowed any. Oh, she had been promised new garments, a hot meal, and a bath for this day, but she knew such gifts came with a heavy price. She had moved among the Edain long enough to learn this harsh truth. Y/n looked at the stone ceiling and sighed mournfully. Her fate will be decided today.

My fate was decided a long time ago, in another life, she thought bitterly. Her father had followed the sons of Fëanor and played a part in the second Kinslaying. All that returned of him was news of his disgrace and death, his role in the slaughter, and how he doomed his bloodline along with himself. As for her mother? She no longer wished to live. She followed the path of Miriel before her, lying down in a meadow and letting her fëa peacefully depart from her body. That was how y/n found her—a vessel from which the jewel had spilled. Alone and without friends, she performed the final rights for her mother before departing for safer pastures. Someone was bound to take pity on her and give her shelter; she was certain of it.

That was not to be. Door after door closed to her as soon as she made her name and ties known. Elves did not wish to sully themselves by associating with one bearing the blood of a kinslayer. The Edain did not want to offend wealthy elven patrons. Y/n had been forced to wander further and further east, year after year, alone and frightened, keeping to the outer borders of kingdoms and selling off her family’s possessions one by one in exchange for coin so she could have clothes and food. She watched in horror while smoke rose from distant battlefields, praying the fighting would never reach her. She trembled when she heard strange and terrifying roars. She listened to the songs about how the Valar finally sent their host to deal with a most wretched enemy, how the lands she once ran across as a child had been claimed by the sea. The grief of such a loss—of her home and her family—was so great that it caused her pain powerful enough to nearly cripple her. She bore it all silently. She had no choice, and she did not have a single creature to confide in. Finally, a mortal took pity on her, or so she thought. He offered her a roof over her head and a better future; all she needed to do was agree to his terms.

Y/n snorted in derision. A better future. If only she had listened to the voice within her, demanding that she refuse. This man would play her false, it said, and place her in a condition with no hope for escape. But y/n was desperate. What coin she had left on her person was all but gone. She was tired of wandering, with no home and no hope and no future to look forward to. She agreed. And felt nothing but regret over the choice she made.

Someone knocked insistently on the door. "I am ready," she called softly. Servants of the house walked in with a healer. Y/n was asked to lay face up and stay still. A flush crept up her throat, but she did as she was told. The healer pulled her rough-spun robe up to her waist and spread her legs, to examine her. Y/n felt a pinch and winced. Her cheeks were ablaze with humiliation. She was told this was necessary. Y/n did not want to think why.

The maids mouthed meaningless comforts while they led her to the baths. Y/n did not believe they meant a word of what they said. They were only loyal to the master of the house and did not spare a thought for her before this. She sat still in a copper tub and was bathed in hot water scented with fragrant oils. One maid carefully washed her hair before picking up a comb to brush the tangles. The other cleaned her feet and nails before scrubbing her back. She chatted incessantly while she went about her tasks. Y/n listened. Anything to distract her from what was about to happen.

"Everyone is talking about you," Eda gossiped, red-cheeked and excited. "Fights have broken out amongst the younger lordlings and..."

"That is quite enough from you, Eda," the other maid, Cwene, cut in harshly. She wanted to end whatever Eda longed to say. Eda bit her lip and nodded anxiously. They both went back to work, silent as the dead.

Y/n shivered and gulped in fright. She knew what was going to happen. She was to be indentured. The man who promised her a brighter future would sell her skills and her, to the one who was willing to pay the most. Those fortunate few who served those with fair hearts had the price of their purchase decrease over time and enjoyed a better life after that. Many more were given a price that only increased as the years passed. They had to toil day after day and year after year, slaves in all but name. Then there were those unfortunate few who faced the bleakest of all futures. Y/n did not allow herself to dwell on those others.

She thought, Perhaps I will be one of the fortunate few, and allowed herself to be helped out of the bath. Perhaps, I will be lucky.

Y/n let the maids lead her to another room and stood still while they toweled her dry and dressed her in silken wisps that made her blush. Then came her gown. It was so soft and smooth that it slipped over her palms like water. She could not remember the last time she wore anything so fine. It made her feel like a lamb being led to slaughter. Eda took her to a nearby stool and asked her to sit. She brushed y/n’s hair until it shone and arranged it in braids and coils. Dabs of sweet-smelling perfume were placed on each wrist and behind each ear. Finally came a pair of sandals crafted out of soft leather. Y/n sighed as if in a dream. The sandals embraced her feet gently, like lovers. Cwene held up a looking glass for her to see her reflection. Y/n was startled. She could not recognize herself.

"She looks like a proper princess now," was all Cwene allowed. Someone else arrived and knocked on the door to the baths. It was the master of the house.

"Take this one to the yard," he rasped to Eda. "The others are growing impatient."

The yard was all freshly cut grass and new flowers, and it was already full of Edain. They gaped at the elf on the raised dais, their looks making her skin crawl. A tall, beautiful woman with hair like spun gold and rubies glinting on her ears, fingers, and throat, climbed up the steps and came to y/n. She looked at her critically. Y/n buried a sob when she saw the rubies. They reminded her of her mother’s hair.

"Beautiful," she whispered, the sweetness of her voice doing little to hide the bitterness lurking beneath. She tilted y/n’s chin with the tip of an elegant walking stick. She wanted to see how her eyes caught the light. Satisfied with what she saw, the woman looked over y/n’s hair and ears, and even her teeth. "Her eyes are like jewels. But tell me, I pray you. Why does she look so gaunt and melancholy? Has she not been fed well?"

It was not said out of kindness. There was none in the lady’s hardened gray eyes. Y/n lowered her gaze and closed her own, as was expected. She did not say that she was given meager scraps because the master of the house did not wish to waste more coin than he already had on her. It could only go badly for her if she did.

"She has," Y/n’s master replied hastily. He crept up to her and dug his fingers into her arm, warning her to keep quiet. Y/n bit her tongue to stop herself from making a sound. "And since the lords that frequent The Blue Rose expect women fit for a king," he added, "This one will do nicely after a good meal, yes?"

"Indeed," the woman conceded, and looked y/n over again. She grabbed y/n's cheek hard, her nails digging into the skin. "Cry if you must," she whispered harshly when y/n, trapped and unable to move, whimpered. "Tear out your hair. I would too if I was in your place. But know this, elf. When the dust clears, you will be mine."

The woman turned to face y/n's master. "Your herald tells me she is untouched."

"Aye, lady Githa," came the reply. "The healer assured me of this."

"This truly is a most blessed day." Githa finally let go and laughed merrily. Y/n fell ill at the sound and found herself overcome with the shivers, but she welcomed the release from Githa's presence. She knew of The Blue Rose. Githa ruled it with an iron fist and was known to be a cruel mistress. The Blue, as it was more commonly known, welcomed the coin of high-born edain, some with tastes that could make one's stomach turn. At least, that was what the maids said. The women sent there never earned their freedom. Some, she had heard through careless chatter, did not even make it out alive. Y/n wanted to flee, to run somewhere no one knew of, and to hide. Since she could not, since she was already trapped, she prayed, hoping against all hope that she would not have to spend the rest of her days toiling on her back.

A herald came forth and called out her name and ties. His words were met with boisterous cheers. "She was born in the four hundred and fiftieth year of the first age," he continued, "and is skilled in both the high harp and the lute. The lady is also fluent in both Quenya and Sindarin. Her mother and father hailed from the Blessed Realm. She is meek and obedient, perfect for any household. And she is untouched. We have been assured of this. One such as her will not grace this dais again."

Loud applause rang out around the yard. Y/n’s master grabbed her arm so hard that it hurt. She was dragged to the center of the block and made to stand straight. The herald would call out a price. Someone would offer more. Y/n listened with growing dread as her purchase price rose higher and higher. The cries soon reached a fevered frenzy that shocked her. She heard the unmistakably musical sound of Githa, the woman who looked her over like she was nothing more than a prize horse to be broken in, whatever means necessary. Githa had coin. From the way she carried on, it was plain she had plenty. If someone shouted a price, she would go higher. One by one, those others would give their excuses and stop. Y/n heard names being called out. Only six remained. Githa was one of the six. Fear coiled within her belly like a snake.

How could you do this to me, father? She wanted to cry. How could you and mother doom me to such a fate?

Y/n heard more voices. Word had already reached the marketplace and spread like a forest fire. Many poured into the yard and joined the throng. They wanted to watch. Someone shouted out ribald jests. Lady Githa replied with equal humor. The others laughed. Y/n kept her eyes closed even as her blood ran cold. She pretended not to hear. Doom coiled itself around her like a chain so heavy she could almost feel it tightening over her chest, squeezing the very air out of her.

The herald called out names once again. Only two remained, he reminded the rest, but he invited everyone to indulge in the food and wine being served. Y/n could taste the bile at the back of her throat. Githa shouted another offer.

"Six thousand gold pieces!" The herald declared and received a roar of approval. "And we still carry on!"

The crowd encouraged Lady Githa and her rival, urging them to continue. Grief gathered around y/n’s heart like bees. There was no escaping her fate now. No one was coming to save her. Tears welled up in her eyes and broke free. Someone laughed.

"Twenty thousand gold pieces!" A deep voice boomed from behind the crowd. The yard went so quiet that y/n swore she would have heard a pin drop. "And an end to this wretched spectacle!"

Y/n heard the creak of floorboards. The herald went to talk with his masters. They were beside her, whispering to each other. Again, she pretended not to hear.

"We cannot deny them," one said.

"That one will slaughter all of us if we refuse," another said. "Or do worse."

"Aye," muttered a third. "But we must give Lady Githa the opportunity to make her excuses and bow out. She may not come near us again otherwise. Continue with the sale."

"Tw-twenty thousand!" The herald returned and announced the figure. They were going to continue. "We have twenty thousand! Do either of you wish to go higher?"

Moments passed. Y/n listened, thinking Lady Githa would call out a higher price and carry on.

"He can have her!" Githa cried after speaking with her rival. She sounded less than pleased. "We are finished!"

"Very well!" The Herald agreed. "Twenty thousand gold! Going once, going twice, sold! To… to the crown prince of Gr-greenwood the Great!"

The herald sounded terrified. The crown prince of Greenwood the Great, he had declared. Y/n had heard of this kingdom and how its king and his people survived the sack of Doriath. In all her wanderings, she kept away from this realm, no matter how tired or weak or hungry she was. She knew she would find no welcome there.

Y/n fearfully opened her eyes, certain the prince only brought her to punish her for the sins committed by her kin.

Tags: @deadlymistletoe

#Please mind the warnings at the top of the post #thranduil #thranduil x reader #thranduil imagine #mirkwood imagine #dark #angst #x reader #reader insert #reader insert request #the silm #fanfiction #writeblr #💫a world of whimsy writes

205 notes · View notes