#i need to find ways to make them into something coherent
Text
I do also want to highlight the fact that it’s often overstated how “bad” a lot of fast food options are. Of course they may be missing the full breath of nutrients one needs for day to day functioning, but a burger with tomato, onions, pickles and lettuce? That’s pretty good! Of course it’s even better to find a way to eat those vegetables in a way you DO like. If you don’t love biting into big pickle slices, maybe chop them finely, and mix them into your sauces. Also very good, and now you’re getting all of the benefits of eating pickles plus you’re making them tastier! Idk. Something something, gaining can teach you more about food or something, and de-emphasizing the idea of certain foods being bad or good in these vaguely moralizing terms. Veggies are good and if you want to eat them fried in butter that’s actually better than the veggies by themselves. I’m sure others have put this more eloquently and coherently than me.
30 notes
·
View notes
Note
If you had to pinpoint the main issue of MLB, the root of all evil if you may (aside from Astruc), what would it be?
If we're going super high level, it would be narrative consistency (I believe this is a synonym for "narrative coherence" or, at least, I've always used them pretty interchangeably and googling one finds you stuff on the other). I wanted to get an official definition of this term and wikipedia gave me this from a larger article on the theory of narrative paradigm:
Narrative coherence is the degree to which a story makes sense. Coherent stories are internally consistent, with sufficient detail, strong characters, and free of significant surprises. The ability to assess coherence is learned and improves with experience. Individuals assess a story's adherence by comparing it with similar stories. The ultimate test of narrative sense is whether the characters act reliably. If figures show continuity throughout their thoughts, motives, and actions, acceptance increases. However, characters behaving uncharacteristically destroy acceptance.
I also found a pretty good overview of the topic on the blog of a random editor. You can follow that link to read the whole thing, but I wanted to highlight this section on characters as I thought it was particularly relevant to the stuff I talk about on this blog:
Your characters will have their own personalities and behaviours that the reader will become familiar with as the story develops, so if you deviate from these patterns, the reader will notice. That’s why it’s important to maintain character consistency – that they would act in a way that is right and in keeping with their personality, rather than making them act out of character to make elements of the story fit.
As you can hopefully see from the above sources, the stuff I've talk about on here, and just generally thinking about the show, most of the issues with Miraculous have to do with the show being narratively incoherent. Characters do whatever the writers want them to do. Plot lines get dropped and picked back up then dropped (Lila) with no rhyme or reason. Big, meaningful setups lead to nothing (Gabriel learning all the temp heroes identities). Twists come out of nowhere (Kagami being a senti). They all indicate that something is majorly wrong here.
I am not involved in the production of this show, so I cannot tell you where all of these issues come from. It may be that the writing staff doesn't know what they're doing or it could be that unknown forces like marketing are driving the writers to do things that they'd rather not or it could be a mix of the two. For example, I'm pretty sure the magical charms we get in season four were only added to sell stuff like this and this, which is why I try to approach this show without pointing fingers at anyone too specific unless there's some hard evidence to back up what I'm saying. All I know is that this show has a massive writing problem and I'll end with a little advice on how I avoid this issue. It may or may not work for you. It all depends on your writing style.
When you sit down to write a story, it's very normal to not have a clear path for how to get from story point A to story point B. You don't need to find that path before you start writing. You just need to keep in mind that B is your goal and start figuring out how to logically get there.
I often describe this process as taking a journey with a known destination, but no planned route. However, just like with a road trip, the further you go, the more limited your options become because of the choices you made. If you skipped stopping at an interesting city or landmark, you can't change that fact and we're not turning the car around just so you can get a picture next to the big ball of string. You had your chance and you missed it. Accept that and move on.
Similarly, as you write your story, you have to own the choices you've already made on your journey. If you choose to let a character in on a massive secret (Alya learning Ladybug's identity), then you have to fully own how that choice would impact all elements of the story (Alya's opinion of Lila) not just the short sighted elements you wanted it to impact (note how Lila's not a thing in season four? Almost like they didn't plan out how to handle her and Alya at the same time?) Own the route you committed to and find a way to tell the next part of the story in a way that feels like it's on the same route and you'll be fine.
Does that mean occasionally having to give up on cool ideas that you really liked? Yep, but that's the nature of story telling. It's part of the reason why people are told to "kill their darlings." That's just a thing you have to learn to do if you want to be a good writer.
21 notes
·
View notes
Text
As a longfic writer I can say burnout on the story happens more than people think. So how do I get past it to continue on? Simple, I work on something else for a bit. That's why I have a buffer of chapters ready to post for my longfic.
So what do I do when I'm burnt out from writing in general? I take a break.
Do I feel guilty? Yep...but I also have to remind myself that I'm just a person and I'm writing my story for fun. I remind myself that I have no problem waiting when others have to do the same. Hell, I have one fic that I am subbed to that is listed as 'Discontinued', yet I still hope to one day see that 'New chapter has been posted' notification. I can only hope that's how my readers are (and if someone chooses to stop following, I have to remember that it was their choice and had nothing to do with me personally).
Now being burnt out doesn't mean I stop thinking about my stories. It just means I don't have the energy/brainpower/time to convert them from ideas into coherent sentences on a page.
It also doesn't mean something little doesn't suddenly come along and fill my head with brainrot. (where do you think all my WiP's come from?)
Why am I writing all of this?
1- Because I can.
2- Even though I am suffering a bit of burnout, 'A Symptom of Being Human' by Shinedown is making me brainrot hard about the relationship between longfic AU Atem and Bakura.
3- I felt like sharing that with everyone.
#random stuff#longfic writer things#so many scenarios in my head atm#i need to find ways to make them into something coherent#brain is also screaming because it wants to work on new tkb chapter#but the blinky line boss is just too hard to beat atm
12 notes
·
View notes
Text
i love it when shit happens in my life that dredges up old wounds and coincidentally im re-experiencing the media i intrinsically link it to cause then i get to remember exactly why i love it and find it so meaningful all over again. there's a fucking reason ill always say Berserk [& RGU] both came into my life at a perfect fucking time and holy shit they fucking resonated with me so hard and as much as life can suck ass and lovvves kicking me in the balls when ive just recovered from last time i a least get to remember how & why i love something so much.
#thebirdspeaks#ive been trying to make a coherent post about Berserk and specifically the duality of Casca and Guts as victims post eclipse#because there are issues but also it resonates so well with me regardless#i cant word it pretty but i think its something about Casca and Guts both being victims and responding in opposite ways#and because they are so tightly linked you can almost see them as one victim experiencing the duality of victimhood#as an internal struggle made into two separate people#i flip flop between who i relate to more in relation to my own trauma#and there is plenty to criticize with the writing choices around Casca dont get me wrong#but as much as people criticize her mind breaking and turning into a shell of herself that needs constant help as something entirely negati#i sure as fuck was not given that space and care to be broken#its very nuanced but i think so few people write victims sympathetically that as much as turning into a mess can appear overdone#being cared for and given space and help and being allowed to be a burden is a powerful thing#and i find the expectation to be strong in the face of what you went though is much more common and damaging to me#anyway as many issues as i have i think Casca being allowed to be a victim as much a she was is why i love Berserk so much and while i thin#it could be better if some things were changed#but im not sure if it would have hit as hard and meant as much to me when i was wobbling between mindless rage and want for revenge#and just being broken and tired and weak and scared#reading Guts protect Casca like he did#showed me that that part of me could protect and is better off channeling the mindless rage into protecting whats important to me and what#needs it#letting me demand protection and love and sympathy for my weakest self in my darkest hours#i know im far from objective & my opinions are not universal#but the fact Casca is allowed to be a victim so fully and not just a hashtag girlboss who struggles her way out#well i wouldn't call Guts a girlboss but actually i think that's why it worked.#because between the two they cover the two ends of the common depictions of victimhood: forced to stay strong and allowed to be weak#anyway im about to hit tag limit i love you f you read this far and if you think this is horseshit then please don't say#if you think im right and sexy about it pile the love on meee<3
5 notes
·
View notes
Text
rewatching being human in my twenties and after getting my brain thorougly scrambled by various things both in my personal life and the media ive discovered in the years in between is so funny bc back when i was an angsty fourteen year old i was like "oh my god they were in love and all was well but then it Turned Bad OHMYGOD i love tragedy"
and now i am older than both annie and mitchell were at their points of death and i am steadily approaching george's age and now i do stuff like look for motifs and patterns etc instead of just going "oh wow all of these ppl are so hot i am definitely bisexual" (even tho i still do that. do not be deceived.) bc i am now Older Smarter and Wiser and i just fucking love picking things apart at the seams to see the scaffolding holding up the theatre stage and make myself violently ill about it but at the bottom of it all behind all the ways in which i am telling myself that i am so much more chill about everything this time around it is actually Worse and i just think that is so funny
me and my teenage self are just holding hands juming up and down in the living room and screaming "can you fucking believe it oh my god they were in love and all was well but then!!! it Turned Bad!!!! OHMYGOD i love tragedy :D" and honestly i fucking love that! i love revisiting old fandoms and realizing not only is the love i had for this story still here but since i last visited it has festered and grown and now i actually have so many more ways to express it like!!!!! babes!!!!! isnt it FUN!!!!
#cavetext#genuinely it brings me so much joy to dive into things that i feel like i was very cringe about as a teen#and just enjoying them wholeheartedly on purpose w new fervor#hell yes i was right to love this back then and even though i might see more of the flaws this time around#i also feel like i am able to find new aspects and angles of appreciation that sort of unlocked w becoming older as u learn and live#and it is so interesting to see my younger self again bc i remember how i felt abt this the first time around#and it is so cool to map out wht has changed and what has stayed the same not just abt the ways in which i perceive a piece of media#but also about myself! how have i grown and changed from the person i was back then and what is still as it was?#something something making peace and friends w ur inner child etc etc. i love rewatching. to quote that one poem: i love u. im glad i exist#is this coherent? it doesnt matter babey! this is abt joy and being glad to be alive and loving media abt tragic codepentent friendgroups!#anyway i needed to be asleep literally yesterday im busy these ides of march!!!!! anyone reading this: mwah! i love u stranger! goodnight<3
4 notes
·
View notes
Text
It's 2024. I have been participating in fandom for 40 years. This is a ramble commemorating some history I've experienced along the way.
In 1984, I attended my first convention, and made a beeline for the one long row of covered tables in the Dealer's Room that was, according to the whispered lore of my friends, 'the one'. "um", I said, very suavely and coherently, except for how it was totally the opposite of those things, "I'm here for the... for the, uh. For-"
"Come around here," the man behind the table said with exhausted ennui, so I went around, and he lifted up the table skirt next to him and pointed to rows and rows of boxes underneath the line of tables. "It's all under here."
It was all under there. Along with about five older ladies with glasses, graying hair, cardigans. Flipping through slash zines and chatting in whispered voices like old friends (which of course they were). I noticed one of them had the good sense to be wearing kneepads. I was still too young and ablebodied to need kneepads when crawling on a carpeted floor, but I immediately found her preparedness skills to be both impressive and hot. "You're new," one of the ladies whispered to me--a bit warily, which made sense. "Are you sure you're in the right place?"
In the faint light (the kneepads lady had also come prepared with a flashlight, additional practicality hotness points for her) I grabbed a comb-bound book with a heavy line art piece on the cover, featuring a musclebound Captain Kirk getting righteously and enthusiastically plowed by a stern-yet-ebullient Spock. "This," I said, pointing helpfully at the cover, like I was trying to make myself understood in a language I had only the vaguest knowledge of. "I'm here for this."
Outside at the convention, most of the attendees were wearing large homemade circular pins that shrieked 'K/S is BS!!!'1. But underneath the table, we reveled in the forbidden.
***
In 1985, I fell very hard for Starsky & Hutch fandom. Which was simply referred to at the time as 'the other fandom', because there were only two. We were upstarts. Many fannish elders predicted that it was just a phase.
***
The 'circulating library' was a massive stack of barely-legible pages that smelled strongly of mimeograph ink. When you were on the list, you would write stories while you waited for your turn, and when the big box was mailed to you, you would read everything (new finds, old favorites), add your own sloppily-typed or hastily-mimeographed stories, and then mail the whole thing to the next person. For me, at the time, it was an extremely expensive indulgence--but my favorite one.
***
By 1990, slash fandom had grown enough that I no longer knew everyone in it, which was both thrilling and a bit daunting. A young woman at a convention waited for me after a panel I was part of (I think it was 'writing impactful smut' or something like that), and said she had a question she didn't want to ask in a group setting. I'd heard that before. I said that's fine, go ahead and ask; and she came out with: "Why do you have to be gay?"
I blinked. "Is... that a problem?"
She looked annoyed. "Yes, because your stories are on all the recommendation lists and in all the top zines, but if you're gay and I read something you wrote and I get hot from it that makes me gay, and I'm not gay."
"Wow." I grinned, I couldn't help it. It probably made me look very predatory-dyke-about-to-score-a-toaster. Whatever, it was enough to make her back away from me fast.
When I thought about it later that night, I wondered what it would be like not to be the only queer person in slash fandom.
***
By 1997, slash started appearing on the internet. Many fannish elders claimed it was the death knell of slash fandom, or dismissed it as 'just a phase'.
***
Anyway, I wrote all this for myself as a commemoration of sorts, but if you took the time to read it--thank you. Love you, fandom. I always will.
1 In those days, m/m fandom was known as 'slash', which grew from the fannish shorthand where 'K&S' meant a story of Kirk and Spock having adventures or tribulations or what have you, and 'K/S' meant a story of Kirk and Spock getting it on (Kirk divided by Spock or Spock into Kirk--it was mathy fannish humor and I was into it then and I still am now). Slash was decidedly unpopular in the fannish world in 1984, and there was a concerted effort to force slash authors, artists, and fans out of 'mainstream' fannish public life. Hence, under the table.
5K notes
·
View notes
Text
"DON'T WANNA WAIT ON IT, TONIGHT I WANNA GET NASTY" | GETO. S
synopsis: on your night out with your boyfriend, you start feeling a little needy which results in him taking matters into his own hands. but after being rudely interrupted by his best friend, suguru knows exactly what to do with you.
content warning (so much omg): porn with a bit of a plot, fem! reader, established relationship, there's a bit of a dom/sub dynamic between reader and geto but it's not very obvious, dry humping, making out in the car, semi-clothed sex, sex on the couch, cunnilingus, blowjob, praise<3 lots of it, pet names (baby), dirty talk, suguru knows how to talk, size kink, fucking on satoru's couch, throat/face fucking, squirting, strength kink. heavily not proof-read (i was too tired) really, just grab your shower head.
word count: 3,5k
note: thank u for almost 9k followers! and most importantly, i need to get railed by this man. and very soon.
another note: my one and only @aurelianamu was the one to suggest the idea btw!!!
comments and reblogs are greatly appreciated!
suguru loved you like this. when you were so horny and needy that no thought in your head was cohered, and all you cared about is having his cock inside you. the way you got flustered as you watched him drive, your face turning red and your breath catching in your throat when he fixed his pants or his shirt rode up a little to reveal the happy trail beneath the fabric. or how you immediately turned to look out of the window when he put his hand on your thigh, praying that he wouldn’t squeeze it.
suguru found it so amusing, how you were trying to act like none of it was affecting you but he could feel the way you were squeezing your thighs together, or shifting on the seat to grind your pretty clit against something, anything, even if it was the seat of his car.
which eventually resulted in him pulling the car over in a pretty dark area and ushering you to straddle his lap.
it wasn’t the most comfortable position, but you did not care—suguru’s lips are on yours. suguru was kissing you so good you were starting to feel dizzy, his hands were squeezing your thighs, your ass, your waist—and your were slowly starting to lose your mind at the electrifying feeling of his rough, big hands on your skin. he pulls away from your lips and kisses down your neck, smiling when you quickly melt on top of him and your hands are shakily placed on his shoulders, squeezing them to let him know he was making you feel so good (although your sounds were making it pretty obvious).
you start moving your hips back and forth on his crotch, and despite being pretty out of it and dizzy, you smile when you hear the muffled groan of your lover, his lips pausing at a certain spot on your neck before switching to his teeth.
he pulls away from your neck and stares at your hips, at loss for words at the way you swiftly roll them back and forth on his pretty visible bulge and he sighs, a hand gripping your side before staring up at you—your flushed face and fucked out look.
“fuck, you’re so sexy.” he whispers under his breath and lets his other hand find your other side, squeezing hard enough to make you pull up your shirt for him to see your skin. “that’s right, that’s it baby.” his praise sends tingles down to your pussy, and you think to yourself that there’s no way you were going to cum like this—in your clothes, in suguru’s car in some random place he found. but it was happening, and the realization that you were going this far just because you were horny for your lover seems to soak your panties even more.
but the moment is short lived when suguru’s phone starts pinging. once, then twice and then the sound of notifications is louder than your moans and your lover’s groans, and it’s hard to ignore it now. you huff a little when he reaches for his phone on the front board of his car and his eyes squint in annoyance trying to see who could possibly need him right now.
of course it’s his best friend.
gojo
dude
gojo
dude i left in a hurry this morning for a mission and i kinda dont know if i turned off the stove or not
gojo
you live pretty close could you pleaseeee go check on it for me?
gojo
ill pay you
gojo
actually i wont but pls go check it cause im really far away from home
suguru sighs out loud and leans back on the head rest of the seat. he sees your disappointed stare along with your flushed cheeks and brings a hand up to your face, thumb caressing your jaw before tracing your lips.
“sorry baby, we’re gonna have to start driving.”
“was it satoru?” your immediate and correct guess on who could possibly interrupt such a great moment has your lover smiling to himself before placing a hand behind your head and pulling you closer to him. he kisses you sweetly, tries not to deepen it but when you whine against his lips and pull away, he almost says fuck it and pushes his seat back to fuck you on all fours.
“it must be urgent,” you say against his lips before shuffling back to your seat. “come on, lets go.”
suguru hates when you’re this disappointed and sad, he wishes he could tell satoru he didn’t see the messages and take you to the back seats of the car to fuck your brains out. but he knows that satoru knows him too well, and that there’s no way he didn’t see the messages.
he starts the car and on the way there, suguru comes up with an idea. he doesn’t share it with you, knowing that you would immediately shut it down and flat out refuse. so he waits until you two get there to share his plan with you, knowing very well that a simple kiss and grinding his painful bulge against your core would easily make you give in to it.
—
when you arrive to satoru’s place, you feel tired, worn out. you and suguru did absolutely nothing beside dry humping, but having it be interrupted so suddenly made your mood drop a bit too hard. you stand in the living room of the strongest himself, looking at the various framed pictures of himself and your lover through every single ugly, awkward and embarrassing phase of their lives and it’s heartwarming.
but one thing you can never get used to is how expensive satoru is. you forget that he swims in money, and so his apartment was a duplex that reeked of opulence, with furniture that probably cost more than your yearly income. you try not to touch anything and choose to stand next to the couch while your boyfriend checks the house to see if his best friend did indeed leave anything on.
“he needs to put cameras here or something,” you say when you see your boyfriend approach the living room with a relaxed stance, hands in his pockets.
“hm, why?”
“it’s pretty fancy, you don’t think he could get robbed?” suguru smiles at your worry and places a hand on the back of your head before pressing a kiss to your forehead.
“i’m pretty sure anyone who thinks it’s a good idea to rob satoru is stupid.” it doesn’t ease your worry but you decide to let go of it.
“well, if everything is safe then let’s go.” suguru’s hand doesn’t leave the back of your head. instead, it travels down to the small of your back and pushes you closer to him, your chests flushed against one another.
“we’re not in a hurry baby, and we were in the middle of something before coming here.” you freeze when you realize what he was insinuating and your hands immediately go up to his chest, in hopes of making him realize what he was suggesting in the first place.
“baby… we’re in satoru’s house,” you laugh nervously, hoping that the mention of his best friend's name snaps something in him-- but you don’t try to push him away, the arousal that you felt in the car coming back in strong waves when you notice the lustful stare of your boyfriend.
“and? satoru is not here,” his other hand rests on the back of your thigh and travels up to your ass, squeezing the flesh. “I left my baby hanging,” he leans down and brushes his lips against your quickening pulse. “you were so close in the car, I’m sure I can make you cum quickly, yeah?”
normally, you wouldn’t have agreed to this, to being fucked stupid on satoru’s expensive camel leather couch in his living room. you would’ve pushed your boyfriend’s head away from between your thighs and told him how absolutely insane all of this was. normally, you wouldn’t be this fucking horny to begin with.
but you were, and it was stopping you from thinking straight.
suguru on his knees was already enough to make you drool, but the way he had pushed your skirt up and gripped your thighs before diving into your pussy—you were starting to think all of this was a dream. but when you looked down and locked eyes with an eager looking suguru, tonguing at your clit before sliding his nose over the sensitive bud and dipping his tongue past your folds, you felt how real all of this was.
you were a mess, chest heaving and hands not knowing what to hold onto. they rest on your boyfriend’s shoulders but you quickly retreat them when he starts sucking on your clit so good, your back arches off of the couch.
“oh—“ you buck up your hips but suguru easily pins you back down with a single hand. “oh god.” you sigh and throw your head back, hands gripping onto the couch.
your boyfriend looks up once again, and he has to hold himself back from fisting his cock at the sight of you—a fucked out mess from his mouth. your hair was everywhere, and your lips looked swollen from his kisses. you don’t seem to notice the way he’s staring at you, solely focused on the way he’s sucking on your clit and he chuckles. he does and watches your eyes roll to the back of your head, so fucking pretty.
you try to fuck yourself on his tongue, grinding on his mouth for any sort of relief. your could taste your orgasm, it was at the tip of your tongue and when suguru pins you down to the couch with his strong hands, watching his arms flex is what sends you over the edge.
“that’s right, baby come on,” his praise makes you whine out loud. “come on baby, let that pussy make a mess on me.”
you cum on suguru’s tongue with a mixture of a cry and a whine, toes curling and your thighs shaking as you try to come down from your orgasm. each kiss your boyfriend presses to your clit as you let your orgasm wash over you sends a jolt through your body, and right when you think he’s done, he’s standing up and the visible bulge in his pants makes your mouth water.
you expect him to free his cock from his pants, and the eager look on your face makes him chuckle.
“what? you want this?” his hand palms his cock and you nod, hands resting on his thighs as his bulge is now at eye level with you. “this is what you’ve been wanting all night, right baby?” his hand rests at the top of your head, and your chest swells with something when you look up at him and find him staring down at you, looking so proud. butterflies dance in your stomach as you hold eye contact with him, your hand tracing his bulge with delicate fingers.
“go on, kiss it,” your hands start to unbuckle his belt but his quiet “ah, ah” makes you halt your movements.
“kiss it through the pants baby, I don’t think you’re ready to have it yet,” you don’t try to protest, fingers grabbing his thighs before pressing a kiss to his bulge. you drag your tongue over the fabric of his pants until you reach his belt. you push up his shirt and kiss his stomach before sliding your tongue over the same happy trail that almost drove you crazy earlier that night.
“one more baby,” his hand rests under your chin and tilts up for you to look at him. you kiss the bulge again, and again and again. you hear suguru chuckle from above and his hand caresses your throat for a bit.
you watch with eager eyes as his hand starts to unbuckle his belt and you rest your hands on the back of his thighs, patiently waiting for him to throw the belt somewhere before you’re unzipping his pants and freeing his cock from its confines. you hold his heavy in your hand, stroke it a couple of times before kissing the angry tip.
“fuuuck, look at you,” his hand goes back to your neck and squeezes it. “not so worried about satoru finding out anymore, hm?” the lazy grin he flashes you makes you shift on the couch and you’re suddenly aware that you’re grinding your pussy against satoru’s couch.
you shake your head and tap the tip of his dick on your lips and then wrapping them around the sensitive head. you pull away from his cock completely before kissing the base of his cock, the sight of you appreciating his cock with kisses and licks makes suguru place a hand on top of your head.
“shit, baby,” you lick all the way from the base up to the tip before pushing his cock inside your mouth. your hand wraps around the rest of his cock and you start to bob your head at a slow pace, your smaller fingers trying their best to stimulate all of his cock. suguru looks absolutely breathtaking from this angle.
his hair was sticking to his forehead and he had his shirt pull all the way up, holding it in place with his hand. his hips buck towards your mouth a few times and you gag each time, pulling away from him to breathe only to wrap your mouth around him not only five seconds later. he wishes he could find your eagerness amusing, but he finds it hot. he can feel his thighs tingling and the drool that’s trickling down to his balls makes the sight of you sucking him off on his best friend’s couch even hotter.
“yeah, just like that,” he sighs and throws his head back. his eyes flutter shut and you take it as a sign to go faster, your other hand finds his balls and you carefully start to fondle them, you hollow your cheeks and bob your head faster.
“fuck baby, mhm,” he looks down at you and finds you staring up at him, flashing you a smile that reaches up to his flushed cheeks. “god, I could fall in love all over again.”
you let go of his balls and slowly let go of his base before bracing yourself on his thighs. suguru watches as you inhale before pushing his entire cock down your throat, gagging and then pulling away.
“b-baby,” he chokes out, his hand finding the back of your head. you repeat the same motion once, and then twice and the faster you got, the harder it was for suguru to have complete control over himself.
“breathe in for me,” his hands grab your face and you do as he tells you, closing your eyes as you brace yourself for the contact. suguru starts fucking your face at a slow pace, but it picks up when he hears the sound of your throat being absolutely destroyed. you gag on him a couple of time and there’s drool on your lap and on the couch, but you don’t let it stop you from nuzzling your nose against suguru’s pubes.
your boyfriend chokes out a few curse words as he cums down your throat, and when he pulls away, his hands are all over your neck, caressing it and praising you for taking him so well. you cough a few times and there’s tears running down your cheeks, but you still manage to flash your tall lover a drunken smile and your hand finds its way towards his very sensitive cock.
“baby—“ he tries to protest, his eyes squeezing shut.
“more suguru,” you kiss the tip and he almost falls over. “I want more. if we’re gonna do it on satoru’s couch, might as well make it worth it, yeah?”
you were the devil, and suguru who usually bragged about how hard it is for anyone to trick him was easily falling in your trap.
he towers over you on the couch and kisses you so roughly you’re pushed back on the couch. your legs wrap around his middle and your arms find his neck, and you can’t deny how good it feels to have suguru’s big body covering you whole with so much ease.
his cock quickly hardens from you two making out, and when you feel it poke your thigh, your hand reaches down to stroke it and your thumb grazes the tip.
“you’re having too much fun,” he whispers against your lips and you giggle, but it quickly dies down when he pushes past your wet folds with so much ease. you don’t need time to adjust, but the force in which he was fucking you with knocks the wind out of your lungs.
“satoru will never find out what we did on his couch,” he says, out of breath. “he will never know that I ate this weeping pussy so good on his couch,” his hand then finds your neck and squeezes with a lazy grin. “or that I’m fucking it stupid while he’s away on a mission,”
each word goes straight towards your pussy, your brain seems to stop functioning because you stop responding to your boyfriend and your lips are parted in pleasure. his thrusts are getting rougher and sloppier, and he presses a hand on your stomach with an eager grin.
“if you’re gonna cum on me again, might as well make it messy.” you don’t understand what he means at first, too lost in the feeling of your approaching orgasm on your fingertips. but when it washes over you in violent waves and small cries and suguru fails to pull away from you, but chooses to press harder on your stomach, you start to panic.
“suguru—“ you choke out a sob when the tip of his cock keeps abusing the same spot and over again. “suguru, it’s too much—!”
“you can take it,” his voice is low and his eyes are fixated on the way your squelching pussy seems to not want to let go of him. “just one more baby, okay? one—“ he sighs out and his pace falters for a second but he finds eagerness once again when he sees your head thrown back and hears the cries of pleasure.
he pushes your legs up to your chest and presses them there as he pounds into you with all of his strength. the couch starts moving with each monstrous drive of his hips, and your eyes widen when you feel something down there.
“suguru wait—“ your hands try to push at his shoulders. “m-messy, it’s gonna be messy!”
“good,” he keeps fucking into you and pins you down to the couch with his weight. “come on, I know this pussy can make a mess,”
your eyes roll to the back of your head when you feel his pelvis rub down on your clit, and along with the tip of his cock incessantly abusing that sensitive spongy spot, your body finally lets go and you let the earth shattering orgasm wash over you in shaky waves and a loud cry.
suguru curses under his breath when he feels you spray him with hot liquid but he doesn’t stop and continues to fuck into you until he empties himself inside you with a groan before pulling away from you, afraid to hurt you by plopping himself on top of you.
it takes you a good minute to catch your breath, and suguru caresses your stomach snd thighs, soft praises fill the air before you can finally look him in the eye with a less hazy mind.
“hi baby,” he says softly, a hand resting on your stomach.
“hi,” you reply in a voice barely above a whisper and he leans down to press a kiss to your forehead.
“let’s get you cleaned up, yeah?” you don’t say anything and let him lift you up and carry you to one of satoru’s guest bathrooms.
despite feeling drowsy, your earlier concern resurfaces at the top and when you jolt as your boyfriend sits you on the toilet seat, he quickly expresses his worry about hurting you.
“did I hurt you?”
“are we gonna clean satoru’s couch before we leave?”
suguru stares down at you in amusement but answers you anyway.
“I’ll get a cleaner baby, you don’t worry that pretty head, okay?” you hum in response. there’s silence for a moment before you speak up again.
“that poor cleaner,” you say sleepily, head resting on suguru’s stomach. “give him a tip, okay?”
your boyfriend stifles a laugh and pats your head.
“yeah baby, no problem.”
—
two days later, you’re laying in bed with your boyfriend, watching a random show on TV before his phone starts pinging again. you both lock eyes before he's checking who's texting him. and lo and behold,
gojo
SO YOU DID TAKE MY OFFER
gojo
i told you my couch is comfortable
gojo
but damn getting a cleaner for it???? you two sure got comfortable
suguru shows you the messages exchanged between himself and his best friend and he laughs when your face still turns a red color.
“I told you he wouldn’t mind.”
“no! he knows we’re messy!” your boyfriend pulls you on top of him and his hand lands on your ass with a harsh smack.
“you mean filthy,”
“not the point!”
2023 ; all works belong to @ slttygeto. do not repost my works on any other platofrm.
#moon's works#geto suguru#jujutsu kaisen smut#geto smut#jjk smut#geto x y/n#suguru geto#geto suguru x reader#geto x you#jujutsu kaisen getou#geto x reader#geto x reader smut#jjk getou#getou suguru x reader#jujutsu geto#jujutsu kaisen geto
5K notes
·
View notes
Text
Just a Taste
Max Verstappen x best friend!Reader
Summary: you quickly learn that there’s more to the chocolates you devoured than meets the eye
Warnings: 18+ content, dubious consent (thanks to aphrodisiac chocolates)
You knock on Max’s front door, balancing a tray with four large lattes in your arms. “Max!” You call out, “It’s me!”
No response. You frown, knowing he’s usually back from his morning run by now. Shifting the drinks to one arm, you pull out your key and let yourself in.
“Max?” You call out again as you kick the door closed behind you. Still no answer.
You make your way to the kitchen and put the coffees down on the counter. Every Sunday morning you and Max have brunch together, a tradition you’ve kept up for years, ever since you became friends as kids.
As you take a sip of frothy caffeine, your stomach rumbles loudly. You glance at the clock — you’re a bit early today, so Max probably hasn’t returned yet.
Looking around, you spot a pink box on the counter that you don’t recognize. Curious, you open it up to find a dozen chocolates inside. A small note card reads:
For when you finally meet someone special - Lando
You chuckle to yourself, trust Lando to tease Max about being perpetually single. Popping one of the chocolates in your mouth, you savor the rich sweetness that melts on your tongue. Before you know it, you’ve eaten three more. They’re just so good! Max won’t mind if you have a few, right?
You’re nibbling on a fifth chocolate when warmth blooms through your body. You feel … tingly all over. And is it just you or did the room get brighter? You blink a few times then shake your head, trying to clear the sudden haze that’s settled over your mind.
Just then, the front door opens and Max calls out, “Y/N? You here already?”
“In the kitchen!” You reply, your voice coming out breathier than normal. You feel hot and flushed now, your skin ultra sensitive. What was in those chocolates?
Max enters the kitchen and stops short when he sees you leaning against the counter, breathing heavily. “Whoa, are you okay?” His brow furrows in concern as he takes in your disheveled appearance.
You stare at him, suddenly unable to form a coherent thought beyond how good he looks right now, sweaty from his run in just a compression top and shorts. You’ve always thought Max was cute of course, but now an almost uncontrollable urge to touch him overtakes you.
“Y/N?” Max prompts again, stepping closer and seeing the open box of chocolates beside you. “Did you … oh no. You ate from the pink box, didn’t you?”
You nod, not trusting yourself to speak. Max runs a hand through his hair. “Those were from Lando, they’re infused with … let’s just say they have special effects. I told him it was a stupid gift idea.”
He moves towards you but you back away quickly. “D-don’t,” you stammer out, worried what might happen if he gets too close right now.
Understanding dawns on Max’s face. “It’s alright, just try to stay calm. Come on, let’s go sit down.”
He gently grasps your arm and leads you to the living room couch. You sink down onto the soft cushions, resting your head against the back and closing your eyes. Your skin is on fire, you shift restlessly as desire coils hotly inside you.
Max sits down on the other end of the sofa. “This will pass, just ride it out,” he says soothingly.
You crack open your eyes to look at him. His face is etched with concern and something else you can’t quite place. “Max,” you breathe out his name like a plea.
He swallows hard. You’ve never wanted someone as much as you want Max in this moment. Scooting closer to him, you reach out a hand to touch his cheek.
Max inhales sharply at your contact but doesn’t pull away. His eyes search yours questioningly.
“Please Max, I need you,” the words fall desperately from your lips before you can stop them.
Max’s eyes widen in surprise before darkening with unmistakable desire. He’s silent for a long moment, emotions playing across his face as he struggles with indecision. You hold your breath, heart hammering in your chest.
Finally Max moves, shifting forward to close the small gap between you. His hand comes up to cradle your cheek tenderly as his eyes lock with yours.
“Are you sure?” He asks softly.
You answer by surging forward to capture his lips in a heated kiss. Max responds immediately, mouth moving urgently against yours. His arms wrap around you, pulling you against his strong chest.
You sigh into the kiss, hands tangling into his hair. His lips are even softer than you imagined. You swipe your tongue along his bottom lip and Max parts them with a low groan.
As the kiss deepens, your desperation mounts. You need more, need to be closer. Straddling his lap, you rock your hips against his, feeling his growing arousal.
Max breaks the kiss with a gasp. “We should stop, the effects will wear off soon,” he protests weakly.
“Don’t want to stop,” you murmur, trailing kisses down his neck. You nip at his pulse point and Max lets out a strangled moan, resolve clearly wavering.
His hands grip your hips tightly as you continue to move against him. “We shouldn’t, not like this,” he tries again, but you silence him with another heated kiss.
You pull back just enough to meet his gaze. “Max, I want this. I want you. Not just because of the chocolates. I’ve always wanted you.”
Max’s eyes widen at your confession, before a vulnerable smile spreads across his face. “I’ve wanted you too, for so long,” he admits softly.
Cupping your face in both hands, he kisses you tenderly. When you eventually break apart, foreheads resting together, Max asks “Are you sure this is what you want? I don’t want you to regret anything.”
You smile and take his hand, rising from the couch and pulling him up with you.
“I’ve never been more sure of anything,” you tell him sincerely. “Now take me to bed.”
His eyes darken and he laces his fingers through yours. “Gladly,” he murmurs, before leading you towards his bedroom and kicking the door shut behind you.
As soon as the door clicks closed, Max presses you up against it, capturing your lips in a passionate kiss. His hands roam your body eagerly as your own fumble to push his shirt up and off him.
Breaking the kiss, Max trails his lips down your neck, nipping and sucking at the sensitive skin. You gasp and arch into him, nails raking down his bare back.
Needing more, you reach for the hem of your own shirt but Max stops you.
“Let me,” he says huskily, grasping the fabric and lifting it up tantalizingly slowly to reveal your skin inch by inch. He pulls the shirt over your head and tosses it aside before returning his heated gaze to you.
Reaching behind you, Max deftly unhooks your bra, letting it slip from your shoulders to the floor. He hovers over you, grey eyes burning with desire as they rake over your newly exposed skin. “You’re so beautiful,” he whispers reverently before ducking his head to trail hot, open-mouthed kisses down your neck and chest.
Leaning in, he kisses down between your breasts before capturing a nipple in his mouth. You cry out, hands coming up to grip his hair tightly. He lavishes attention on your breasts until you are squirming against him desperately.
Sensing your need, Max scoops you up in his arms and carries you to the bed. He lays you down gently against the rumpled sheets before settling over you, the hard planes of his body pressing deliciously against your own softer ones.
You kiss feverishly as you fumble with the drawstring of his shorts, shoving them down impatiently. Max kicks them off before reaching for the button of your jeans. Soon the last barriers between you are gone.
Max trails heated open-mouthed kisses down your stomach until he reaches the apex of your thighs. He looks up at you questioningly and you nod eagerly. You arch up into his touch, gasping and tangling your hands in his hair.
“Please Max,” you beg desperately, needing more.
At the first touch of his mouth on your most intimate area, you cry out his name, hands twisting into the sheets. He takes his time exploring you with his lips and tongue until you are writhing and gasping beneath him.
When you feel yourself teetering on the edge, you breathlessly beg Max to be inside you. Needing no further encouragement, he moves back up your body, positioning himself at your entrance.
He pauses, meeting your gaze. “I’ve wanted this for so long,” he says huskily before finally joining your bodies in one smooth motion. You both moan at the feeling of completion.
Max sets a steady rhythm, angling his hips until he finds the spot that makes you see stars. You feel the pressure building rapidly within you. Sensing you’re close, Max increases his pace. His thumb rubs tight circles over that sensitive bundle of nerves until you shatter around him with a cry. He follows right after, burying his face in your neck and groaning your name as he finds his own release.
You cling to each other as you come down, trading soft kisses and whispers of affection. Eventually Max rolls off of you, gathering you close against his chest.
“That was incredible,” Max murmurs, dropping a kiss to the top of your head. “You are incredible.”
You smile up at him adoringly. “You’re not so bad yourself.”
He grins and squeezes you tight. You drift off curled safely in the arms of the man you’ve always loved, happier than you’ve ever been.
***
The next morning, you wake up to find your legs tangled with the man beside you. Last night had been incredible, even better than your wildest fantasies.
You feel Max begin to stir. Turning in his arms to face him, you meet his sleepy gaze.
“Morning,” Max smiles at you, brushing a strand of hair from your face. His expression turns serious. “How are you feeling?”
You know he’s asking about more than just the effects of the chocolates. You lift a hand to caress his cheek reassuringly.
“I’ve never been happier,” you tell him honestly.
Max’s face breaks into a radiant grin. He kisses you softly before pulling you tightly against his chest. You bury your face in the crook of his neck, breathing in his scent.
“I’m so glad you feel the same way,” Max whispers into your hair. “I’ve wanted to tell you how I felt for so long but I didn’t want to risk our friendship if you didn’t feel the same.”
You lift your head to meet his gaze. “Well you don’t have to worry about that anymore,” you say, leaning in to kiss him languidly.
When you eventually break apart, Max smirks at you. “Remind me to send Lando a thank you card.”
You laugh and snuggle back into his embrace, making a mental note to pick up another box of those chocolates. Just in case.
#f1 imagine#f1#f1 fic#f1 fanfic#f1 fanfiction#f1 x reader#f1 x you#max verstappen#mv1#max verstappen imagine#max verstappen x reader#max verstappen x you#max verstappen fic#max verstappen fluff#max verstappen fanfic#max verstappen blurb#f1 fluff#f1 blurb#f1 one shot#f1 x y/n#f1 drabble#f1 fandom#f1blr#f1 x female reader#max verstappen x female reader#max verstappen x y/n#red bull racing#max verstappen one shot#max verstappen drabble
1K notes
·
View notes
Text
steel drum weight of me
joel miller x fem!reader, 18+ mdni
summary: joel comes back from his wall shift with hands in need of some serious tlc. but why stop there? | 3.2k
warnings: fem!reader, fluff turned to smut, a tender blowjob, p in v sex, unprotected sex, riding, creampie
a/n: this could be in the same universe as come care about me and watching you with wonder but who knows. what matters is it's a post-part i jackson au and all is well. this is my first fic in a while and i hammered it out today so hopefully it's coherent. <3 series masterlist here.
__
Jackson looks its best in the winter.
You've always thought so with its endless skies gone white, blending in with the grey clouds carrying the constant threat of snow. The peaks you never tire of, such ethereal beauty in a world otherwise gone to shit, looming over town with a steadfastness that you can fool yourself into thinking means protection, means safety. In reality, they're just something nice to look at when you have a free moment.
It's also fucking cold.
But you can deal with that. You've spent more winters in the last twenty years than you'd like to remember mostly outside, freezing your ass off, fingers so numb you could barely pull the trigger. But when it counted, you did.
Winter now means a town full of children laughing and having snowball fights. It means big pots of stew and your pick of hats, scarves, and a good pair of boots. It means a warm house to go back to every night, a bed to crawl into, and a man you love to hold you.
Things could be worse.
You're home first today. Joel and Ellie are on the wall and have been since mid-morning. The light is already going, the sun dipping behind the Tetons, sky that winter mix of purple and pink that makes the breath catch in your throat no matter how many times you see it. There's a flu going around and taking people out for a few days at most but it means fewer bodies free for the wall and for patrol. You're pulling a double tomorrow and you're already looking forward to the hot bath you'll take after.
Today, though, you change from your work clothes to something softer, a sweater that travels between your drawer and Joel's, thick socks Dina gave you for your birthday last year. It's hard to heat houses like yours the way you used to but it works well enough to fight the chill so long as you layer. That's the name of the game these days: adapting.
You set the kettle to boil and forgo thinking about dinner for a few hours. Joel won't drink tea with you but if Ellie stops by she'll have some. Maybe you can convince her to watch the movie you pulled from the library this week. You love him, but Joel just doesn't appreciate comedies.
The front door creaks, the bell you have hanging from the doorknob jingling.
"S'me," Joel calls into the house. "You home?"
"Making tea." The kettle isn't steaming yet so you lean against the counter and wait.
The sounds of his return are familiar even though you can't see him. He locks the door with a click, shrugs his jacket off with a sigh. He sits down on the bench you put in the entryway so he can take his boots off. The thunk of one and then the other. He'll tuck them next to yours under the coat rack. When the weather is bad you try to come in the back door so not as to track snow through the house but you don't want his back to get any worse so a bench in front makes sense.
The kettle screams. You pull it off quick and pour the water into your mug -- a chipped green one with a dinosaur holding a cookie that you find endlessly amusing -- and leave it to steep. The floor creaks under your socked feet as you make your way into the hall. Joel still sits on the bench digging into the meat of one palm with his thumb like he's working the feeling back into them.
He looks up and his jaw softens a little. His cheeks are rosy from the cold and his hair a mess from the wind. "Evenin," he says.
"How was the wall?"
"Fine." He stops messing with his hands and rolls his shoulders back with a grunt. "Ellie swears she saw a moose on her last patrol. Said to tell you. I think she's fuckin' with me. How was your shift?"
"Fine," you echo. "Is she coming for dinner?"
He shakes his head. "Game night at Jesse's."
You cross the remaining distance between you and he parts his legs automatically so you can stand between his knees. You run a hand through his hair, pushing the greying fringe back from his eyes. He looks up at you and finally smiles, just a little. You drag your hand down the side of his face and enjoy the feel of his beard on your skin.
"Maybe she did see a moose." He rolls his eyes and brings a hand up to cover yours. You lean down to kiss him but something catches your eye and you pull back, tugging your hand from beneath his to circle his wrist.
"Jesus, Joel." He makes a surprised sound.
"Hey now, what --"
You pull his other hand from his knee and hold them both close to your face, turning them over in the light of the entryway. "You didn't wear gloves, did you?"
He just shrugs. That means someone else on the wall -- probably Ellie -- forgot theirs and he handed his own over.
The skin of his knuckles is dry and cracked, the rest of his palm dry and cold to the touch. You've seen them bloody, broken and bruised, and compared to that, this is tame. Welcome, almost. But you know he won't do a damn thing about it, let himself bleed rather than take a second to make things better.
And you've never minded this part. Taking care of him, making him slow down and rest for even just a little bit. You both know you'd get your hands dirty or worse for him and he for you, but this is the part he has trouble with. So you take the reigns.
It's part of how you fit together -- part of how you look after each other.
"We've got something for this." Joel looks unamused. You press a light kiss to one of his knuckles and his nostrils flare. "Go sit on the couch," you say.
"I'm fine --"
"Joel, they'll bleed if you don't let me --"
"I said I'm --"
"Hey," you say. He hears the finality of your tone and lets you have it, sighing your name in one long breath.
"Alright," he says. "Move, then."
You press a quick kiss to his lips and release his hands to step back. He stands with his usual grunt and you have to stop yourself from leaning into the width of him, from wrapping your arms around him and slotting your nose in his neck and never letting go.
"It's that salve Dina brought over last week," you tell him. "The new one for the winter. Smells nice. Good for this kind of stuff."
Joel makes his way to the couch and you fetch the tin from the kitchen.
"What's it made of?"
"Uh -- oil? And some flowers, I think? Wax, maybe."
He's settled into the cushions when you return, smirking. "It's okay to say you don't fuckin' know."
You sit next to him and unscrew the top, folding your legs so you're facing him. "Well then, I don't fuckin' know." You're sure to imitate his drawl.
"Cute."
"Gimme those hands, big guy."
The salve smells faintly of lavender and it's cold on your fingertips. Joel extends his right hand and you work it into his skin slowly, extra careful around where it's cracked and split. You feel his eyes on you but you let him look.
"Feels good, huh?" He hums. "If you'd wear your gloves then --"
"What was I gonna do, let her freeze?" So it was Ellie, then. You flick your gaze up and find his brow furrowed. If you have a free hand you'd smooth the crease with your thumb.
"No," you say. "Guess it's a damn good thing you have me here, then."
He chuckles, a throaty, rusty sound. "Guess so."
You finish the first hand and motion for his second. He gives it to you and you dig your thumbs into the meat of his palm. Joel lets you touch him whenever you like, for the most part. Pressing into his side when you walk down the street in town, trailing your lips down his neck until he whines just a little in your bedroom. You've worked knots out of his shoulders and cleaned blood from surface wounds. You can never get enough of him, of his warmth, the expanse of his tanned skin all yours for the taking.
And, boy, he touches you back.
So you take your time. You rub the salve between his fingers, over the ridges of knuckles split so many times you don't even know about. His hands are rough even when they're not dry and cracking, callused from years of hard work. From years of violence and playing guitar, shooting a gun and holding the people he loves. Dotted with scars and nicks, hands that have touched every part of you.
Joel's slightly slimy finger taps your chin. "You okay?" You've been stroking the same bit of his hand for who knows how long.
"Yeah," you say and mean it. You rub your own hands together to soak in some of the salve before putting the lid back on the tin and standing. "Need to let it soak in."
"Feels soaked in already," he grumbles.
"Stay there." He purses his lips. "I mean it, Joel."
"Bossy today," he says. "There's wood that needs choppin'." You ignore him since he's just being annoying. The salve goes back in the kitchen and his voice trails after you. "And I told Tommy I'd --"
You turn on the tap. "You gotta let that soak in," you say again from the sink.
"What? Can't hear over the water."
You turn off the tap and dry your hands. Joel is still on the couch when you return. "Sorry," you say. You run your hand through his hair again and settle back down next to him. "I said be patient."
"Don't think that's what you said."
"It's what I meant."
And he looks at you in that way that always makes your face feel hot. Like he's seeing right to the bone of you, like he's laying you bare on the floor in his mind. Like he never wants to stop looking at you, next to him on the couch, leg pressed to yours. Like he loves you.
"Alright," he says.
You get an idea, the flames licking at your belly and your hands itching to touch him again, to touch him differently than before. That idea has you grabbing a pillow and tossing it to the floor, has you getting up and drawing the curtains before you sink to your knees before him.
Joel only looks mildly surprised, eyebrows raised, mouth tugging up at the corner. "Now, I ain't gonna complain but --"
"Then don't," you say. You tug his shirt from his waistband and start working on his belt. "Gotta pass the time somehow. And I don't know what we're doing for dinner yet, so maybe I'm just stalling."
"Hell of a way to stall." He reaches for you to touch your face, maybe, or help you with his belt, when you click your tongue. "We can just go to the community hall--"
"Don't touch," you remind him. "You have to let it--"
"Soak, Jesus, yeah, yeah." Joel tips his head back along the sofa and takes one deep breath. If he really wanted to he could ignore you and you'd let him get away with it, but if there's one thing you and Joel have solidified, it's trust. He trusts you to take care of him, to handle him with hands that love him.
So you do. He lifts his hips just a little so you can tug his jeans down, zipper undone and button popped. You pull out his cock, already half-hard at the promise of what's to come. You spit into your palm and stroke him once root to tip and he hisses. More blood flows and he stiffens in your hand.
"You just gonna look at it?"
You give him a squeeze for being a shit. He laughs but it sounds punched out, on the edge. Frankly it's an effort not to take him in your mouth right away. You've always loved this -- the exchange of power, the trust. You're the one on your knees but you're calling the shots. And he's mouthwatering. The way his cock curves a little, the vein that runs along the underside. The mushroom head a little pinker than the rest, the wiry hair at his base. The hefty weight of his balls in your hand, on your tongue. You know how to make it good for him and it's good for you, too.
Joel opens his mouth to no doubt say something else annoying so you finally drag your tongue along the vein, swirling a little at the top before taking just the tip of him in your mouth. His precome is salty. You work your hand along the rest of him as you start to suck in earnest, hollowing your cheeks and taking a little more each time.
"Look so pretty, baby," Joel says. His voice is gravely, broken in his throat. You manage to take almost all of him and you swallow, just once. Your reward is your name spilling from his mouth in a groan.
It's messy. Spit beads at the corner of your mouth and drips a little as you work him, breathing through your nose when you take him all the way. So good, takin' all of me, keep goin'.
Joel has clearly forgotten your directive as he winds one hand in your hair and pulls just a little, just enough to make you moan around him. You don't scold him for it, instead keeping your eyes on his face. His head is tipped back just a little, lips parted at he gazes down at you. His other arm is stretched along the length of the couch, his fingers digging into the fabric as you bob on his cock.
You know he's close. You can feel how he's trying hard to keep his hips down, trying not to fuck your throat cause usually he asks first. So it's only a little surprising when he pulls you off him, eyes a little glazed and some color high on his cheeks.
He wipes spit from the corner of your mouth with the pad of his thumb. "Why don't you c'mere?" he says. "Let me fill you up."
"Joel." This was supposed to be about making him feel good. You know even if he comes in your mouth he'll ask you let him touch you, so frankly you don't mind if he fucks you or not.
He smirks, presses his fingers into the side of your neck a little. You swallow so he can feel it. "We both know you can take it," he drawls, eyes dark. "Always gets you goin', my cock in your mouth."
You can feel the heat between your legs, the arousal pooling in your gut. He's right but he's also an asshole. "You're annoying," you tell him.
"So is that a no?"
You drag the flat of your tongue up his shaft one last time as punishment before standing, using his knees as leverage to get off your own. He shucks off his jeans the rest of the way as you drag down your pants, letting them pool with your underwear at your feet before stepping out. Joel holds out a hand for you to balance on and you take it, putting your other on his shoulder.
"Feels softer already," you mutter. Joel snickers and you straddle him. He uses one hand to drag his fingers through your cunt and you fail to swallow a gasp.
"Well, look at that," he says. "I was right." He pushes two fingers into you and they go easily, your hips jerking as he pumps them in and out once, twice, and then you're empty again.
"Smug bastard," you manage. He brings his hand to his mouth and takes a long lick before surging forward to kiss you. You can taste yourself on his tongue and it makes you even wetter.
Joel licks into your mouth and you kiss him back sloppily, desperately, in the way you know he likes. You're so busy with that hands on his face, his beard scratching your skin deliciously, that you don't notice what else he's doing. His hand presses into the bare skin of your back under your shirt and you lift up a little on instinct and then --
The head of his cock nudges at your entrance and his hand presses again and you meet the movement of his hips with your own and he fills you with just one stroke.
You moan in unison, Joel's arm wrapping around your back as you curl yours around his neck, mouths not so much pressed together as hovering as you pant, as you adjust. Even with how wet you are Joel is a stretch, a welcome one, but a stretch regardless. You shift your hips, roll them back and forth a little.
"Go on, then," you tell him. "Fuck me."
He laughs.
His lips leave yours and trail down your chin, sucking spots onto your neck and on that spot that makes you keen as he does what you ask. He goes slow at first, letting you meet him thrust for thrust. One hand snakes up your shirt, thumbs at your nipple when he finds no bra in the way. You wing your fingers in his hair and tug, tug until he picks up the pace, until all you can hear is the smack of his flesh against yours.
"Joel -- Joel -- right there --"
"M'not gonna -- I -- fuck --"
"Said you were gonna fill me up, didn't you?" you pant, managing to find a bit of cheek in the haze of your fucking. "C'mon, Miller. Don't keep a lady wait--"
His hips pick up the pace, his hands pressing into you hard enough to bruise. You give up trying to tease him and hang on for dear life, managing to snake a hand between your legs to rub at your clit as he pounds into you. The only thing you can say is his name over and over as you feel the hook pull taught, feel the head of his cock brush against and then pound that spot that makes your vision blur.
Joel comes just before you do, his thrusts stuttering and his name on your lips. You feel it, the heat inside you and it's enough to send you over the edge, your cunt squeezing him as he empties inside you.
You press your forehead to his and catch your breath. He palms your neck, your jaw, slides his thumb lazily under your eye and kisses the corner of your mouth.
"Hell of a salve," he manages.
You slot your lips over his. "Wear your damn gloves." Joel laughs and it shifts him inside you. Even softening it makes you both hiss a little. "Just gimme a second."
His hand drags up and down your back, pressing into your spine. "Take your time," he says. "M'clearly not goin' anywhere."
"You never stop, do you?"
Joel kisses you again. "'fraid not."
You laugh into his neck. "Good."
thank you for reading <3 reblog, send feedback, general masterlist here!
#joel miller x reader#joel miller smut#joel miller x you#joel miller x y/n#the last of us fanfiction#joel miller fanfiction
1K notes
·
View notes
Text
First kiss, what bliss... maybe...
Summary: Neither you nor your partner have had your first kiss yet. What kind of shenanigans would that information bring?
Characters: Cater, Jamil, Vil × GN!Reader (separate)
Warnings: misunderstandings
By opening the document, you agree to Mx Tattly's terms of source confidentiality.
-ˋˏ’✄┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈
Facing Cater after what happened felt like the hardest challenge you've ever gone through
Curse Magicam and curse couple tags and couple selfies, curse all of it!
The memory was fresh in your mind, making you cringe at the situation
You just wanted to take a cute selfie with your boyfriend, like any normal person
And you thought it would be funny and cute to kiss him on the cheek mid selfie
But he happened to have the same idea...
And your lips unceremoniously clashed over each other
As if the situation wasn't very embarassing already, Cater's reaction made it worse
He awkwardly laughed while scratching the back of his head, then left the room in a hurry
Horrible feedback for your first kiss, really
Were you that bad at kissing? But you didn't even have time to be bad, it was barely anything but his lips landing on yours
Sevens, even thinking about it made you feel like your face was on fire
You cursed all teen rom coms for lying to your poor teenage heart as you buried yourself under your blankets
But soon enough your phone started buzzing like crazy
One, twice, thrice
Twenty times
You picked it up to check what was going on, when you saw none other than your boyfriend spamming you with apology texts
"i'm sorry" "i'm sorry" "i'm sorry" "i'm sorry" "i'm sorry" "i'm sorry" "i'm sorry" "i'm sorry" "i'm sorry" "i'm sorry"
His apologies only made you more confused
"wait why"
You could tell he was trying to pick between keysmashing his way to forgiveness and trying to find a coherent response as the loading chat bubble appeared and disappeared on your screen for a few minutes
In the end all he sent back was one text
"nvm i'm coming back to ur dorm stay there"
You undug yourself out of your fluffy pity party and, before you could process properly the situation you were in, Cater knocked at your door
You combed your fingers through your hair before taking a deep breath and opening the door
Just to see a Cater just as frazzled as you were
"I'm so sorry I didn't know what to do I wanted to be cute-"
"I was so stupid, I don't know what came over me, I panicked and-"
You talked over each other, then stopped and sunk into a bit of an awkward silence
Not even your conflict solving skills were on your side today
"Uhm, Let's just... I mean, can I come in?"
"I will let you in... before Riddle hears you used 'can' instead of 'may'."
Cater's eyes widened before he snorted, and a small smile blosommed on his lips
"Alright, don't mind me~"
His sing songy delivery came out slightly tense as he hesitated before stepping into your room and making a bee line to your bed
Another awkward, albeit shorter, silence took over the room before you sighed
"Cater, I'm sorry. I wanted to be cute and kiss you on the cheek, I'm sorry if I overstepped something or-"
"Oh, no no no! That's not it at all!"
Cater's cheeks grew redder than you've ever seen them
"You have nothing to apologise for! It's just..."
His eyes went from your face to the floor, then to the lamp on your nightstand
"It took my by surprise, and I was not prepared at all, and I reacted very poorly... It was so much different than what I thought our first kiss to be."
He reached out to his hair and started playing with a strand, something you noticed he did when he needed something to do with his hands
You took a seat next to him on the bed and sighed
"To be honest... I have no idea how I wanted our... first kiss... to be like... Since that was my first and all."
Cater's eyes widened and he snorted
"Yours too?"
Hearing his words, you turned to face him, and saw an expression hard to read
"Wait, what? Really?"
Cater nodded
You snorted, then burst into laugher
He had no idea why, but Cater also joined in with his own confused giggles
"So both our first kisses kinda sucked. Man...!"
Cater lied on your bed, obviously more relaxed than before
"...Well, at least I know I'm not the only victim of the lies about the romcom first kiss."
"You know what they say about misery loving company!"
You lied next to Cater, thinking about how ridiculous everything was
And you were glad to see Cater back to his more relaxed self
"So... No hard feelings, then?"
His question made you giggle
"None. Only if you promise me a proper redo, though."
Cater turned on his side, prompting his head on his arm
"Totally! Not right now, though. My heart had enough of a workout today."
"Same..."
You spent the rest of the day watching cute videos on his Magicam feed
The atmosphere turned back to normal once again, and you almost forgot about the incident
Until a few weeks later, when Cater was finally ready for the proper redo
『••✎••』
You were leaving Sam's and checking items off of a list, making mental notes to yourself
Ingredients for chakli and shankarpali? Check. Enough paper to make origami jasmines until your hands hurt? Check.
The permission slip from Kalim that allowed you and Jamil to stay out of the dorm for the night? Check. The contracts from Azul binding your friends to the responsibility of keeping Kalim in check while you and Jamil are away? Check
Were your preparations a little extreme? Maybe, but you had a very important goal in mind
Several weeks prior, you were bestowed with a very valuable information: Jamil never had his first kiss
Neither did you, but you wanted to do something about it
After a lot of shifts at the Mostro Lounge, you finally were able to put together the perfect date
A picnic under the stars in the garden of Ramshackle dorm, where you could create the perfect opportunity to give your boyfriend the first kiss he deserves!
You skipped on your way to your dorm from excitement and prepared everything for the special night
But whatever deities ruled over Twisted Wonderland decided that it would be funny to cause an unpredictable downpour on the very night you were planning to be out
All Jamil could do to help your disappointed self was to help you gather your things and resume the "picnic" in your dorm room
Despite him trying to comfort you, you still had a hard time recovering, as the night you were so emotionally invested in was ruined
Jamil sighed as it sunk in that the issue was deeper than he thought, and he made you sit down with him
"This wasn't just a normal date, was it? Talk to me, Reader."
You sighed and grabbed Jamil's hand
"I'm just... really disappointed, I guess. I worked really hard to make this date special! And this stupid rain ruined the night. I'm sorry..."
Jamil raised an eyebrow
"Special? Were you preparing something for a special occasion?"
You hated how perceptive he was sometimes
You looked away, and your reaction to his question was all the confirmation Jamil needed
He still waited for you to tell him, regardless of how embarassed you grew with every second of silence
So eventually you caved after what felt like a whole hour of silence
"...You know how you told me you haven't had your... your first kiss?"
Jamil listened to your explanation with a growing blush on his cheeks
"I wanted to make it memorable! I haven't had my first kiss either so I thought it would be great to make it great for the both of us! But then it started raining, and it made the food all soggy, and I just wasted three weeks of my life for a stupid contract with Azul and my friends to make sure Kalim doesn't accidentally start an international conflict while I'm trying to smooch you!"
Your little rant left Jamil speechless
You were expecting some sort of snort or sarcastic remark, but you heard... nothing
So you turned your face to look at Jamil
And he was deep in thought, eyes not even looking at you
His mouth opened and closed a few times
Jamil's face never settled on an expression for too long, his conflicted feelings coming to the surface
The silence was making your nervous, but it was obvious Jamil was weighting his words very carefully
"Reader, I don't need a special setting for you to show you care about me."
"I know you don't need it, but you deserve it! You work so hard all the time and you never get the praise you deserve, I wanted to spoil you as much as I could and give you an unforgettable memory..."
Jamil was rendered completely speechless
And, when your words finally sunk in, his face started burning like a campfire, and he pulled his hood over his head
"You... You are impossible..."
Your hand was still holding his, and you gave it a squeeze in reassurance
The silence that befell on you was just a bit awkward, but you gave Jamil time to recover emotionally
A few minutes passed when he pulled the hood off and asked you to make a pillow fort with him in your room
"I can't let your efforts go to waste, not after... after everything you've said."
Despite your disappointment, you'd never say no to a night with your boyfriend
So you took the chairs, Jamil took the blankets and pillows, and you set up a pretty nice fort
It wasn't the starry sky you imagined yourself sitting under, but maybe Jamil was right
You didn't need anything fancy to have a special moment
And the way he was clinging to you while you were running your fingers through his hair was even more special to you than anything
You chuckled to yourself at the visage of Jamil Viper, the most tense and closed off teen you know, completely making himself comfortable in your embrace as if your body was made to hold him and cherish him
He raised his head, his attention caught by your chuckle
Maybe it was the way Jamil looked more relaxed than usual or the way that he was simply looking at you, expecting nothing but to satiate a small curiosity
But Jamil looked really beautiful to you in that moment
And kissable...
"This is kind of embarassing... I really wanna kiss you right now..."
Jamil smirked at you
"I thought you needed a meteor shower and a full course meal to get a kiss."
"...Never mind, you ruined it."
You were sure he wouldn't let it die until you actually kissed
A problem you could solve really easily
You started plotting another plan; this one was simpler, and it involved just you making him look at you and leaning in a little closer...
『••✎••』
"Did you have any voice acting roles animated movies and stuff?"
Vil contemplated your question for a few seconds while he applied some skin cleanser on his face
"A few, yes. I prefer when people experience my presence fully when I act, but I don't mind bringing a different type of character to life if I like the project."
You were in Vil's room, using your priviledge of being the partner of a Housewarden to spend the night with your boyfriend without the need of a formal pass
As fair as Vil was, he didn't mind your daring actions as they amused him
To pass the time while Vil prepared himself to go to bed, you decided to play 20 questions
"Do you prefer open ended media or do you like to know what comes out of the fate of the characters?"
Vil was good at asking questions, as they really made you fall deep in thought
"Hmm... I think both are pretty great. It depends on the setting the most. An open ending works well with a thriller movie, but I like a proper ending for a romcom."
Your boyfriend hummed at your response
You watched Vil as he reached for his serum, and you caught a glimpse of a smile on his face
"Smart answer. That's the beauty of media, it allows you to tell different kinds of stories in different ways."
Vil opened the serum bottle and let a few droplets fall on his face
"Have you had your first kiss for a role or in real life?"
"Neither."
"Wait. Really?"
Vil snickered at your reaction as he met your eyes through his mirror
"What, is it really that shocking that I haven't had my first kiss yet?"
He was something else: usually people would be embarassed at the prospect of having to admit they haven't had their first kiss at all
"Kind of? I assumed that... well, I know that people who've been acting for as long as you have been exposed to a lot of things before the proper time."
"I can't deny that. I could say that I had a lot of people making sure I never did anything too... extreme."
Vil grabbed his moisturizer, and you had no idea how to feel about losing count of the products he has used so far
While he applied the product, Vil smiled to himself mischievously
"What about you? Have you had your first kiss?"
Your cheeks warmed up in embarassment
"No..."
Your reply was followed by an awkward laugh, and it drew a chuckle out of Vil
For the first time in a while, Vil got up from his chair and sat on his bed next to you, leaning closer
His closeness to you and your confession made your cheeks grow hot
The floral scent of his freshly applied products and the teasing glint in his eyes made you dizzy
"Oh? Is that so?"
Your confusion suddenly vanished as you realised what Vil was about to do
Were you about to kiss?! Right now?!
Vil leaned in very close to your face while you panicked and tried to figure out what to do
He kept a distance of barely two centimeters for a few seconds
Then he kissed your nose, making you confused
"You've been able to go on this long without your first kiss, you'll be fine waiting a little longer..."
You were shocked as Vil backed away with a smile on his face and cheeks dusted pink
It finally dawned on you: he was only teasing you
He only laughed when you gave him a swat to his thigh, wordlessly accepting your offense as warranted
The audacity of this guy...
"You really though I'd allow our first kiss to be anything less than spectacular? My line of work has been advertising a life changing moment, and I feel it's my duty to... live up to the hype."
Your indignation, as lighthearted as it was, refused to allow your pride to be wounded by such teasing
You raised yourself from your spot and, with a courage fueled only by impulsivity, you put your hand at the back of Vil's neck
You pulled Vil close to your face, action that earned you a gasp from your beloved
Almost all courage left you but you still continued with your plan: you waited a few seconds before pressing your lips to the corner of his mouth
"Your... line of work also has teasers and trailers, right? Consider this one of them."
Vil was more than shocked; to your surprise, he seemed awestruck by your actions
A lovely pink took over his face as a proud smile bloomed on his features
"Maybe I will."
『••✎••』
#twisted wonderland#twst#twisted wonderland x reader#twst x reader#cater diamond#cater diamond x reader#jamil viper#jamil viper x reader#vil schoenheit#vil schoenheit x reader#i wanted to write 2 more characters with this prompt#but this is already long enough that i think my phone is about to burst into tears
630 notes
·
View notes
Text
CAT NAP | SIMON RILEY
(✉️ᝰ.ᐟ♥︎) 𝑅𝐸𝒬𝒰𝐸𝒮𝒯𝐸𝒟 — We need more hybrid!reader !!! Wether it be kitty or puppy is up to you, but hybrid!reader x 141 or just x who ever you choose [AO3 LINK]
WORD COUNT… 2.1k
WARNINGS… 18+ CONTENT, MDNI. hybrid + kitty!reader, petnames [kitty, kitten, pet], daddy-dom/owner!simon, scent kink, mentions of prior neglect, mentions of murder, fingering [r. receiving], use of kittycunt, breeding kink.
You’re curled up in bed. Simon would be lying if he said he was surprised. He scoffs over your slumbering form, eyes trailing down to your soft tummy and cute undies that have been exposed due to your tossing and turning. Curling and uncurling yourself into the sheets that smell just like him— he’ll never understand that this bed is your own personal heaven. And wearing one of his shirts while you take your naps makes it even more divine.
“Sleepy kitty,” Simon mutters softly, words coming out as affectionately as they possibly can. He brings a heavy hand to rub the top of your head, right between your fluffy ears, and he revels in the startled but satisfied purr that vibrates your frame.
It seems the gentle touch has triggered something in you as you roll over, throwing your arms over your head and twisting your face up. Your body tenses for a moment. Simon’s voice finally falls on your ears now that you’re just barely coherent; “Big stretch— tha’s my good, little pet!”
Each syllable is elongated and sugar coated, making a warm feeling bloom in your chest before Simon even dives into the sheets with you. You sniff a few times. Fresh and clean body wash, even some aftershave— he’s showered. At the realization, your nose scrunches. You enjoy his natural scent. The woody musk, a hint of smoke and sometimes whisky if he needs a stiff drink after work. It’s spicy and comforting. You missed out on getting whiff when he first got home. You snooze, you lose, you pout. Already pouting and you haven’t even opened your eyes fully.
“Don’t make that face,” the words are grumbled; he knows what your issue is. Still, he’s caging you in whilst he speaks. Tattooed arms locking around your waist in a tight hold while his stubble scrubs against your cheek. You look up at him in the middle of a yawn, melting into him as you wrap your arms around his neck. Not before you rub your eyes, though.
“Missed you, daddy,” you whisper, slurred speech and all, forgetting why you were upset a solid minute ago.
“Wasn’t gone for that long, was I?”
He’s teasing as always. Honeyed, brown irises taking in your sweet features as a smirk tugs at the corners of his mouth. You murmur something unintelligible and equally bratty in response, clinging to him even tighter. You could fall asleep again if you really wanted to… if it wasn’t for that pesky feeling that settles in your tummy. The tingling that makes it’s way between your thighs and causes them to flex around Simon’s waist. You mewl softly— sleepily— as Simon rolls over with you in tow. You’re laying on his chest before you know it, face buried in his neck and taking in a deep breath whilst you nose at the skin there in true feline nature. Bumping your forehead into his jawbone in the process.
Simon is rather predictable. The way he drags his hands down your sides is expected; squeezing your waist, rubbing your hips, and then grabbing the swell of your rump. With a minuscule amount of his strength, he spreads your cheeks. Those calloused fingers slip between the seam in seconds to rub your kittycunt through your panties, eager to ruin the soft cotton. Your reward for being so good and patient while he was gone. Even if you weren’t conscious.
“Daddy.” It’s breathy and pathetic.
“Hm?” Simon hums, as if he isn’t doing anything nefarious.
You haven’t lived with him for long. You moved from shelter to shelter, stayed with people that certainly weren’t cut out to take care of a hybrid in between. Which ultimately lead to Simon finding you in a safe house, tucked away by some sketchy crime boss who liked to throw away his toys once he got bored of them.
You’re not sure what ever happened to him, but you’ve got a few scars to show for that time in your life— Simon doesn’t want to falter your healing process and taint your innocence any further by telling you he painted the wall with the poor bastard's brains once the task force finally caught up to his organization. Not like you would understand, anyway. Too far gone and caught up in being a pampered, little kitten now. With bows on your ears and one to match on your tail, a pretty collar with a bell to wear when you feel up to it. You have everything you’ve ever wanted and more.
Spoiled rotten. Simon thinks to himself, watching your lashes fan over the tops of your supple cheeks. The tips of his fingers, index and middle, find your clit through your underwear, pressing hard enough and moving in little circles to draw a syrupy mewl from you. He feels that little patch of mess growing and growing until the material is stuck to your cunt, transparent and sticky when he bunches it up and tugs upwards, forcing the cotton to strain against your folds and make you whimper. You’re left writhing on his chest in seconds. Moaning and panting “daddy,” like you’ll die if he doesn’t give in and yank the lacy trim to the side.
Which he does. Doesn’t hesitate to stuff you full either, after all that teasing. Slips his thick middle finger right in and feels your thighs lock up on him, feels your velvet lined walls suck him right in. He’s got you trained to take all of him at this point. You pick your head up, tail swishing behind you wildly.
“Feelin’ good, kitty?”
“So good, daddy,” you whisper back, just over his lips before you two join for a sloppy kiss. Tongues rubbing together in a near disgusting dance. You taste the nicotine on him; you feel his stubble rub against your face. A combination that makes it impossible for your pussy not to squeeze around the digit that’s pressing up on the gooey spot inside of you— you’re trying to force him out before he can get another one in, but Simon’s certainly not a beginner. He knows how to coax your pretty cunt into letting him in.
Your mouth falls open, singing and choking out sounds, and he grins against your scalding cheek. Pressing kisses there when he finds the time. His freehand grips your tail, and that might be the nail in the coffin for you. His fingers fill you up to his knuckles, pressing and flexing until you both can hear how messy you are between your thighs, spreading the glossy arousal all over the plump cheeks of your ass. He tugs at the squirming mess of fluff in his fist—your tail— and your cunt squeezes itself around his fingers so tight he can’t move them anymore. Record timing.
Simon kisses you, again and again. Slow and sensual to fast and rough. Anything you need to ride out the aftershocks of your release, with your poor cunt still flexing and refusing to let go of his digits until he reluctantly has to pull them out. Bringing the messy hand up to his mouth. You watch him lick his fingers clean. His fat tongue peaks out, slipping ‘n sliding through his digits while you stare at him with dazed, half lidded eyes. Before it’s your turn and he decides to share your sweetness. He presses down on your tongue, forcing your mouth to open as wide as it can. Drool slips past your lips and tongue, and he has the revelation that he’s turned you into a proper sex kitten. His fingers fall out of your mouth with a soft and wet pop.
“Relax, kitty.” He grumbles once you begin making hasty movements. It’s more of a demand than anything else. His attempts to coax you are lazy but earnest, petting the back of your head with one hand while the other caresses your lower back. Right above your now drooping tail.
“Wan’ more,” you huff out, planting your hands flat on Simon’s chest as you gather enough strength to sit up. Your poor cunt is still sore from his rough digits, creamy and messy with your release. Painfully empty. You need him.
It’s apparent in every little move you make. Each rut of your hips over his hard cock. You whine, looking down and seeing the mess you’re making on your daddy’s joggers. Simon’s no better. Deep groans rumbling in his giant chest. The gray material grows darker and albeit stickier with your arousal. Simon doesn’t have the heart to deny you— not when you’re gagging for it like this.
He can see your pretty, starry eyes welling with hot tears, making your lashes heavy. Your cheeks are puffy with sleep but plump with pleasure, lips pouty and slick with a mix of your saliva and his. Before he knows it, while he’s under whatever trance you managed to cast over him, he’s helping you get his fat cock out of his sweats. His hands dwarf your own, scarred lips shushing your small sounds in the process with a curse or two.
“Greedy fuckin’ thing.”
It’s his fault for spoiling you so much, but that’s a conversation for later.
His dick immediately smacks against his lower abdomen. Thick and heavy. Beads of his precum create such a mess on his hoodie and you nearly giggle at the sight. The feeling of him grabbing your hips stops you, though. He drags you over his cock, and you have no choice but to squeal when his shaft rubs right up on your sensitive clit, before the fat head of his cock catches your drooly entrance. You suck a breath in through your teeth. The last thing you do before Simon plants his feet on the bed and stuffs you full of every inch in one go, growling loud ‘n proud and gripping your skin hard enough to make you sniffle.
Somehow, in the middle of everything, the hem of the shirt you’re wearing becomes tucked between your teeth. And his becomes balled up in your fists. Simon can’t recall ever seeing you like this. All riled up with your ears flat on your head and small, feisty growls escaping you. The wind is knocked out of him each time you bounce, pulling yourself upwards and then falling right back down on his fat cock.
He doesn’t have it in him to stop you, once again. When you’re milking him like this it’s hard for him to focus on anything besides how much he loves you and your precious cunt. His hand wavers over your tummy, rubbing your smooth skin as he tries to string words together through ragged breaths. Your cunt is unrelenting. Pulsing and squeezing and all around ruining him. Fuckin’ hell— you’re testing his stamina riding him like this.
“Trying to fuck the cum out of me like this, kitten,” he’s throwing his head back, desperately trying to meet your hips to the best of his fucked out abilities, “is tha’ what you want?”
Your response is hummed, meeting his eyes with a glossed over look. Your own drool is soaking the fabric through. Maybe you really are just a dumb kitty, Simon thinks— “Words, pet.” He reminds you with the last bit of composure he has himself, “want daddy to give you some kitties, is that it?”
“Yes!” You squeak out, “Please, daddy! Breed me.”
Simon blacks out after that. It’s a mess of desperate thrusts and you falling forward, flopping onto his chest yet again due to how hard your orgasm rocks into you. He’s gripping your thighs— holding you nice and open, allowing him to fuck up into you and knock your cute squeals right out of your throat. You’re creaming everywhere, covering his cock in a milky white that makes him groan when he feels how much messier your cunt has gotten. The sloppy sounds echo through the room until he stills. Sinking his cock into you as far as it can go, fat head surpassing that spot that draws out your messiest releases and pressing up against your cervix.
His cum is hot and thick. Both of you shudder, feeling it fill you up to the brim and leak out of your poor, fluttering kittycunt while Simon holds onto you for dear life. He huffs and puffs against one of your ears, unbothered by the way the fluff tickles his nose. There’s a soft noise coming from you. Airy sighs and— no, it can’t be— little snores. Your face is smushed up on Simon’s shoulder. Surely drooling all over his hoodie. You ear twitches under his nose. The way they always do when you’re knocked out.
“Un-fuckin’-believable.”
#🤍.cod#gave up after one proofread i’ll be honest#hope it’s okayyyy#enjoy everyone ♥︎#tw hybrids#simon riley smut#call of duty smut#call of duty mw2 smut#cod smut#cod mw2 smut#simon ghost riley smut#ghost smut#⌨️.luxe's writing
951 notes
·
View notes
Text
Warning: smut (Minors Do Not Interact)
Paring-Hyung line x reader-
-Favorite position -
Chan (Reverse cowgirl)
He enjoys pressing his hips up against you, grinding down on your wet pussy as you ride him, it's the way your breasts bounce and jiggle with every thrust, how your nipples scrape against his chest. The sensation is intense, almost overwhelming. He breathes heavily, his eyes locked on your round ass cheeks as they gently sway from side to side.
His hands grab onto your thighs and pull you closer to him, digging into your flesh just slightly. His cock throbs inside of you, filling you up completely with each hard thrust.
"Oh fuck, yeah," he moans, his voice guttural as he buries his face in the crook of your neck, inhaling your sweet scent. His fingers trail up your thighs, tracing delicate patterns on your skin before eventually finding their way to your clit.
Rubbing it in circles, he feels a shiver course through your body. Chan smiles to himself, knowing that he has the power to make you feel this way, to bring you so close to the edge of ecstasy just with his touch.
His hips pick up speed, slamming into you with a force that makes the headboard hit the wall. Your walls clench around him and Chan groans lustrously as he feels himself getting closer and closer to his peak.
"I'm gonna cum," he growls against your ear, his ragged breath hot against your sensitive skin. "I'm gonna cum inside of you." With a final thrust, Chan's orgasm washes over him, his cock twitching inside of you as he empties his seed deep within you.
Minho (Doggy style)
It allowed him to feel in control. he liked the power of dominating his you from behind, his hands gripping your hips tightly as he guided your movements to match his own relentless pace.
There was something primal and animalistic about it that appealed to his inner desires, a primal need to mark his territory and leave a lasting impression on you. he relished in the moans and whimpers you would let out as his hips slammed against yours, driving himself deeper and deeper within.
“Tell me you like it,” Minho growled in your ear, his voice husky with desire. “tell me how much you love it when i take you like this.” you moaned in response, unable to form any coherent words as the pleasure consumed you both. your nails dug into the sheets, your body trembling with every powerful thrust.
Minho grinned in response, spurring him on to go even harder. he could feel himself getting close, the tension coiling in the base of his spine.
“That’s it, love,” he groaned, his pace increasing even more. “come for me. I want to feel you come apart around my cock.”
The words sent you over the edge, and your orgasm washed over you like a wave crashing against the shore - powerful and consuming. Your muscles clenched around Minho's shaft, milking him for all he was worth as he too tumbled over the edge with a shout. he held onto your hips tightly as he came inside of you, both of them shaking in the aftermath of their shared release.
Changbin (Wall)
He feels in control while still being able to penetrate deeply. He takes his time, slowly entering and withdrawing from your tight heat, savoring every moan and gasp that escapes your lips. He rests his hands on your hips, guiding you to the perfect angle, angling his hips just right to hit all the right spots.
Changbin's thick girth stretches you open, claiming you with each and every thrust. "You feel so good," Changbin growls into your ear, placing a biting kiss on your neck, "like you were made for me."
His words send shivers down your spine, a wave of pleasure washing over you. Slowly but surely, Changbin picks up the pace, pounding into you with more force, making your bodies smack together with a wet slapping noise. Your moans grow louder, your orgasm building with each deep thrust.
"Chang-bin," you moan, his name coming out in a drawn-out whimper, "I'm close, I'm so close." "That's it," he pants, "cum for me baby, cum on my cock." His words push you over the edge and you cum hard, your inner walls clenching around him and milking his length.Changbin groans, his hips stilling as he releases himself inside you, filling you up with his warm cum.
Hyunjin (Spooing)
He wants to feel close and connected to you while still maintaining a sense of dominance. He enjoys the intimacy of being behind you, with your bodies pressed together, but also likes the control he has over the pace and depth of penetration.
This position enables him to caress and kiss the back of your neck, which he finds sensual and arousing. Hyunjin also appreciates the opportunity to whisper dirty words into your ear, something he knows can be a turn-on for you.
“I love feeling every inch of you, wrapped around me so tight,” he pants, his voice a low growl against your skin. His hands grasp your hips, guiding you into a rhythm that has you both moaning.
“You feel so good, so damn good...” is fingers trail up your stomach, teasingly brushing against your sensitive nipples before leaving you aching for more. As the pleasure builds, he nibbles on the side of your neck, sending shivers down your spine.
Hyunjin knows how much you love his possessive touches and doesn’t disappoint, biting down gently just enough to leave a mark but not hard enough to break the skin.
He wants you to remember this night, to feel him inside you even after he’s gone. The room is filled with the sounds of your combined panting and the wet, slick noises of their movements.
Suddenly, Hyunjin reaches around and slips a finger between your legs, massaging your clit in time with his thrusts. “Cum for me,” he commands, his voice husky and demanding. “I want to feel you coming apart around me.” His words send you over the edge, and you do as he says, your orgasm crashing over you in waves as your muscles involuntarily tighten around him.
#stray kids imagines#stray kids x reader#stray kids x y/n#stray kids imagine#stray kids smut#skz x reader#skz imagines#skz imagine#skz smut#bang chan imagine#bang chan imagines#bang chan x reader#bang chan smut#minho imagines#minho imagine#minho x reader#minho smut#changbin imagine#changbin imagines#changbin x reader#changbin smut#hyunjin imagines#hyunjin smut#hyunjin imagine#hyunjin x reader
768 notes
·
View notes
Text
The Only Exception (Din Djarin x fem!Reader)
A/N: Hey guys!!! Ahhh here is the Din Djarin x reader fic I said I’d post. This has been sitting in my WIPs since late November/early December. This is what I was working on before I got sick. I’m so happy it’s done. I’m pretty pleased with how it turned out, although I may have written something similar to this already. It’s very much inspired by “The Only Exception,” by Paramore. I’m hoping I didn’t use this song as a title yet....Oh well. ENJOY!
Summary: Din has been wildly overprotective of you lately, but maybe it’s because there’s something lying deep below the surface that’s been threatening to bubble over...
Warnings: SMUT!!!!! 18+ Please!!! Oral (f!receiving), fingering, PIV sex, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it), cursing, canon typical violence, Jedi!reader, Razor Crest still exists (and it’s def bigger in my head than it is in the show), praise kink, friends to lovers, angsty but fluffy and smutty dw, I only proofread like 2 times so it may be bad (it’s 3:16am...so...we die like men!), AFAB reader, uhhh I think that’s it...
Word Count: 3,078
“I swear to the Maker, if you don’t get back on the Crest now, I’m gonna-,”
Din is cut off by the sound of your lightsaber clashing through the plastoid armor of the stormtrooper to your left. You swing your saber around, showing off more than you need to. You throw it down the alleyway, feeling through the force as it cuts through another stormtrooper before finding its way back to your hand.
“You’re gonna what?” You say, tilting your head to the side. You point your saber to the stormtroopers scattered around the alleyway. “I just saved you.” You close your saber and cross your arms cockily.
Din shakes his head, his gaze refusing to meet yours. “And where’s the kid? You just left him on the Crest?” You roll your eyes, turning your back towards him as you remove your cloak from your shoulders. There, in perfect condition, is Grogu, secure in a little carrier on your back.
“You really think I’d be that dumb?” Your words have a callous edge to them. Din had been far moodier than usual over the past few days, and with that came a strange overprotectiveness that you hadn’t seen before. It was starting to feel as if he thought you were going to mess up, that you couldn’t take care of yourself. “You think I’d put the kid’s life at stake?”
“That’s not what I meant.” The anger in his voice has all but melted away. You’re shocked by how defeated he sounds now.
You inhale deeply, taking a moment to calm yourself down. “So what did you mean, Din?”
“We don’t have time for this now.” He’s curt and almost a bit cold, his modulated voice echoing off the walls of the alleyway. “We need to get back to the ship.”
You hate the way he’s brushing you off, ignoring you, pushing you to the side. You didn’t need this; you didn’t need to put up with his shit. Not anymore. “What is going on with you?” The words come out louder, more aggressive than you meant them to.
Din takes a single stride towards you, his broad figure practically shoving you against the wall in the process. “We are not doing this here.” The feeling of him being so close to you clouds your mind. You can’t form a coherent thought, never mind a sentence. You want to say something, to stand up for yourself, but you can’t. “Now cut the shit so we can get back to the ship.” There’s that anger again, that finality in his voice.
In the distance you can hear stormtroopers chatting, whispering your name, mumbling on about Grogu, warning each other about the Mandalorian. Din was right. There was no time to hash this out here. You nod, finally caving in. Din takes a step away from you, immediately grasping your wrist in his hand before making a break for the Crest, just on the other end of the alleyway.
Somehow you make it without being seen. Din lets go of your hand, motioning for you to get on the ship. You make a b-line for the back and carefully remove Grogu from his carrier, placing him in his crib. You stand frozen in place in front of it, watching his eyes flutter open and closed as he slowly drifts off to sleep.
You don’t want to move. You rather watch the child you had come to care so deeply for sleep peacefully than deal with a massively enraged Din. The oncoming fight would most definitely wake Grogu, so maybe it was best for you to hide in the little corner that you had come to call Grogu’s bedroom, completely unnoticed. But obviously, that’s not an option. You begrudgingly step towards the end of the hull and decide to keep your hands busy by organizing the tiny stock of food that lined a makeshift shelf along the far wall.
You can hear Din’s heavy steps on the other side of the ship, presumably heading up towards the cockpit. After a few seconds and many annoyed grunts from Din, the ship is lifted into the air and away from danger.
You try your best to bring yourself to get angry at him, to yell some explicative across the hull of the ship and spit a curse in his helmet-covered face. You wanted the consequences, for him to storm over and scream back. But you couldn’t – because things weren’t normally like this. Din had always been kind, caring, protective even.
He'd leave the cockpit to grab a blanket from his cot when you fell asleep in the co-pilot’s chair. He’d come back and gently, yet silently, tuck you in with it. It was the only blanket he had. Sometimes you’d wake up in his bed, having been carried into it at some point during the night. He’d be awake, taking care of the child, flying the Crest, making sure nothing and no green baby woke you up.
You’d be lying if you said his doting behavior didn’t draw you to him, that it didn’t make you crave him. Every soft touch on your shoulder, every time you pretended to be asleep just to feel his arms wrap around you as he brought you to his cot. You’d let your stares linger a little too long from time to time, pushing past your reflection in his armor, searching for some sort of sign that maybe he feels the same.
You wanted him to come up behind you, rest his hands on your hips, squeezing softly at the exposed inch of skin where your top and your pants just can’t seem to meet, and whisper in your ear in that husky, modulated voice that he’s sorry, that he’ll make up to you by-
“Never, ever, do anything like that again.” You practically jump out of your skin at the sound of his voice. You quickly turn around, not realizing how close Din had gotten to you. His chest is practically flush against yours, the proximity causing you to stumble back against the shelf, threatening to bring it down with you.
Din immediately snakes an arm around your waist, keeping you from falling against the cold metal floors below. Your arms instinctively reach up around his neck to stabilize yourself. You’re glued to him now, and you don’t particularly want to let go. You swallow harshly, intimidated by the way the beskar clad man seems to tower over you, by the way you can smell him, by the way his forehead practically touches yours.
You take a deep breath, furrowing your brows and doing your best to collect your thoughts despite the fog that the moment seemed to create in your brain. “Do what? Save your ass?” You spit, instantly regretting the harshness of your words, even if he deserves them.
“You weren’t supposed to leave the ship.” He’s stern, his voice somehow punishing. “You were supposed to stay here with the kid.”
You shake your head, feeling far too much like a child caught playing in the front seat of their parent’s speeder. “You needed my help! You would’ve died out there without me! And I can handle myself,” You yell, trying to ignore how you could feel the rise and fall of his chest against yours. “If this is about risking the kid’s life, I promise you I wasn’t. I would never put him-,”
He cuts you off, “I know you wouldn’t, that’s not what this is about.”
What? You think to yourself, confused beyond belief. If this wasn’t about the child, then what could this possibly be about? “So then what’s the problem?” You ask, more aware of the way that Din is holding you against him now than you were before.
You can hear Din inhale deeply through the modulator. “You.” A shudder rolls down your spine. “You could’ve gotten yourself killed.” There’s still an edge in his voice, but he’s calmer now, almost pained, as if considering your death in some dark corner of his mind.
“Sorry that my death would be such an inconvenience for you,” You say sardonically. “It’ll be hard trying to replace me with some other force-wielding wizard that’ll be willing to babysit for you, since clearly that’s all I am.” You wanted the words to sting him, to hurt him, and maybe they did, but it felt like a punch in the gut to simply think them. You wanted to grab the words from where they still hung in the air and shove them back into your mouth, to swallow them so that they could burn in the acid of your stomach.
Din tilts his head down, crushed, defeated. Your heart winces. Fuck. “That’s not what I meant, and you know it.” His stare finds yours again, and you quickly look down at his shoulder, too embarrassed to have him look you in your eyes.
You shake your head. “But Din, that’s the problem,” You say, somehow finding the courage to meet his gaze. “I don’t know what you mean. How am I supposed to know what you mean if you won’t kriffing tell-,”
“Fucking hell, I don’t want to lose you!”
Your eyes widen. “What?”
Din looks around the hull, as if the words he was searching for were hiding, wrapped somewhere around its silver walls. “I can’t lose you. And before you ask, no, it’s not because you train the kid or whatever the hell you think it is.” You can feel the pain in his voice, guilt quickly filling your gut. “It’s just…” He trails off, silence hanging heavy in the air.
“Well…what is it?” You mumble, struggling to force down the lump in your throat. You wish you could see his face, to get a sense of his expression, an inkling as to what he was really feeling.
“You,” He says, as if those three letters held some secret, omniscient being or meaning. To him, they did. It was you. You were the thing that kept him up at night, the thing that made him want to show every facet of his being for the first time in his life. “You’re reckless and careless and sometimes you drive me absolutely insane.”
You scoff. “Wow, what a glowing review of my services!”
Din shakes his head. “You don’t fucking get it. You’re so much more than that, because even though you drive me crazy,” He pauses; the modulator picks up his breath as it catches in his throat, “I know I’d never be able to spend an entire lifetime without you in it.”
You’re speechless. An entire lifetime? “Din I-,”
“Close your eyes.”
“What? You just said all that and you want me to close my-,”
“Just close your eyes. You trust me, don’t you?”
Of course I trust you, smart-ass, You think to yourself. So, you do what he says, shutting your eyes firmly. Then there’s a hiss, and then something clunks loudly against the floor. And then…
It’s warm, and soft, and smooth, and all those other perfect words someone would use to describe the perfect kiss. He has a mustache under all that metal, and now you know, because it tickles ever so gently just above your upper lip. His hands squeeze your hips just a bit tighter, pulling you further into his chest.
His lips press deeper into yours, hungrier. You keep your eyes closed tightly, your hands sliding up and into his hair, combing gently. He moans into your mouth at the touch as he guides you away from the shelf and towards his cot.
“D-Din,” You stutter in between gasps.
“What is it, mesh’la?” He presses a chaste kiss to your forehead.
You can feel the heat pooling at the bottom of your stomach, but there’s something stopping you, something telling you that there’s no possible way this could ever be real, that it wasn’t a set-up, that it wasn’t a dream. “Do you really want this?”
“More than anything.” You can hear the smirk in his voice, and you silently wish to yourself that you could see it. “Do you?”
You nod, repeating his words, “More than anything.”
His lips find yours again, his knee nudging in between your thighs as he pushes you down onto his cot. He’s on top of you now, his hands on either side of your body. “Wanted you for so long…” He whispers in your ear. “Wanted you this whole time.” Fuck, he was going to kill you.
Din presses sloppy kisses into the crook of your neck, leading up to your jaw. His hands stretch under the hemline of your shirt, his fingertips gliding across your stomach and towards the edge of your bra. You shudder as he reaches underneath, slowly inching towards your chest.
Something was changing within him, and that something was you. You made him want to throw his Creed away, to ignore all he had been taught his entire life. How could you ever possibly be something he shouldn’t have? He needed you.
More than anything. And you needed him.
“Please,” You beg. “I need you Din, please.”
And just like that, something within him finally switched.
“Open your eyes, cyare,” He’s so quiet you almost miss it. His fingers dip underneath your bra, rolling a nipple between his thumb and forefinger teasingly before doing the same to the other. “’Want you to look at me when I make you come.”
Panic rises to your chest. “W-what, are you sure? What about the Creed, what about-,”
“It doesn’t matter, not if it means I can’t have you.”
You wait a moment, giving him time to change his mind, but he doesn’t. You let your eyes flutter open, his curly hair and brown eyes flooding your vision. And Maker, there’s that smile, the smile you’d only heard through laughs and sarcastic, snide quips. You swear your heart skips a beat, maybe even two. He was perfect. Of course he was fucking perfect.
“You’re beautiful,” You whisper, your hands finding their way to his cheeks, his neck, your fingertips carefully running over his lips. His forehead rests down on yours, his eyes closing softly, reveling in the intimacy.
Din lifts himself off you and makes his way down your body, settling in between your legs. His fingers hook the waistline of your pants, tugging them down and throwing them somewhere in the hull. He feels your core through your soaked panties.
“So fucking wet for me, pretty girl,” He coos, practically ripping your panties as he pulls them down your legs. “Need to taste you.”
“F-fuck, Din,” You breathe sharply as his tongue laps at your clit, your hips lifting off the mattress. Din presses an arm across your hips, keeping you down against the cot, his free hand spreading your slick, teasing your entrance.
“’Tastes so good,” He rasps, his voice vibrating deliciously against your core. “Doing so good for me sweet girl.”
His mouth sucks harshly at your clit, taking the small bundle of nerves into his mouth, lapping at you like he was starving. You wanted more, needed more.
“N-need you, Din,” You whine, your hips fighting against the arm that held you down. He pushes you down further into the mattress, his mouth pressing even deeper onto your core.
“Not done with you yet,” He grunts, pushing two fingers into your entrance, pumping in and out, fast and hard. You could feel yourself growing closer with each thrust.
You moan his name like it’s a prayer, and in this moment it is. “Din, please, I, just…” But you can’t finish your sentence. It’s all too much, his fingers, his tongue, his voice, him. He was everywhere and everything all at once. And yet you needed more.
“Use your words, sweet girl,” He says patiently, nonchalantly.
“I want…” Your words fail again. “I…need you to f-fuck me, please.”
But he doesn’t stop, he keeps going. “I said I wasn’t done with you yet.” You could feel your walls fluttering around his fingers, teetering just on the edge.
“I’m so close,” You pant in between ragged breaths.
And then, abruptly, he pulls away, leaving you cold and empty. Before you can even think to sit up or reach out for him, he was back, his hips resting against yours, his pants and armor now somewhere scattered to the side. You could feel his cock throbbing against your inner thighs. He lines himself up with your entrance, teasing you.
“Din,” You whimper. “Plea-,”
He buries himself inside you, cutting you off, stretching you out. “So fucking tight,” He praises, pulling all the way out before thrusting back into you, filling you up again. “So soft, so perfect.” His fingers find your clit, circling the nerves roughly.
His forehead rests on your own as his left-hand searches for your right one. His fingers intertwine with yours just above your head, keeping you from drowning, cementing you there with him. It all feels so good, each pump, each circle at your clit. You can feel your walls clenching around him.
“Taking me so well,” He soothes, rocking into you. “Such a good girl.” It was all too much, his words, his cock.
“I-I’m gonna-,” You choke, white heat flooding your vision. You know Din isn’t far behind, his hips stuttering against yours.
“Come for me, sweet girl, that’s it,” Din moans, sending you over the edge. You feel yourself shattering underneath him, falling apart into a million pieces, only to be put back together again. His name slips off your tongue as he comes inside you.
His hips roll slowly against yours, gently rocking into you a few more times before pulling out.
He shifts a bit so that you can comfortably lay on his chest. After all that, there’s only one thing you can think about.
“You wouldn’t be able to live without me?”
You look up at Din. His smirk stretches into a smile. He presses a kiss to your forehead. “I wouldn’t, no.” He says it so matter-of-factly, so simply, as if it was common knowledge. “I need you. I always have.”
“I need you too.” He was the only person you had ever needed, the only exception. You didn’t need to tell him. He knew. Always has, always will.
You are the only exception
You are the only exception
And I'm on my way to believing
Oh, and I'm on my way to believing
#din djarin x reader smut#din djarin x reader#din djarin x you smut#din djarin smut#din djarin fluff#din djarin x fem!reader#the mandalorian#mando x reader#din djarin x you#din djarin#din djarin fanfiction#din djarin imagine#mandalorian x reader#the mandalorian x reader#mando x reader smut#Pedro Pascal x reader#Pedro pascal x reader smut#Pedro Pascal smut#din djarin x reader fluff#din djarin x reader angst#mando smut#mando x y/n#din djarin x jedi!reader#mando x jedi!reader#mando x fem!reader#the mandalorian x reader smut#mando imagine#din djarin x y/n
5K notes
·
View notes
Text
The Show || Ona Batlle x Reader
Summary: Ona shows you how she likes to touch herself when you’re not around.
Warnings: 🔞 || masturbation, praise kink, bottom!ona
Word count: 2.4k
…..
“I want to watch you touch yourself.”
You see the exact moment Ona’s brain short-circuits behind her dark eyes. No doubt she’s imagining the scenario you’ve just suggested because her thighs clench together, leaving you to wonder exactly how turned on your girlfriend is before even being touched.
“Can you do that for me, beautiful?” you ask. “Show me how you get yourself off when I’m not around?”
Her cheekbones flushed a pretty shade of pink and her eyelids heavy with want, Ona nods and utters a soft, “Yeah.”
You reward Ona with a kiss, catching her lower lip between your teeth to pull another soft moan from her throat. Your hands find the hem of her t-shirt and tug it upwards, forced to break the kiss to do so but Ona lifts herself enough to help you pull it over her head. She’s not wearing a bra underneath and you’re treated to plenty of freckled skin but you want more. You slide your hands up Ona’s sides, enjoying the way her breath catches in her throat when you pass over a ticklish spot, stopping only to circle your thumbs over her nipples before tracing the same path down until you reach the waistband of her shorts, where you snap the elastic against her skin.
“These need to go too.”
Ona complies, thumbs hooking into the waistband as she pulls both her shorts and underwear down her legs and throws both to the side. She looks vulnerable, spread out on the bed without a shred of clothing, looking up at you with an expression in her eyes that seems to implore you to do or say something.
“Beautiful.” You appraise her body, running your hands over the smooth skin of her thighs until your fingertips tease at her hipbones. “You’re so fucking gorgeous. My beautiful girl.”
Ona shudders and whether it’s because she’s cold or painfully turned on, you aren’t entirely sure, but you do know that both of those things can be solved by kissing Ona until she melts into the mattress below her. You crawl up the bed and cover Ona’s body with your own, knees bracketed on either side of her hips, and press your mouth to Ona’s in an open-mouthed kiss. It’s imprecise but that’s what makes it better, knowing that Ona is already halfway to ruin when she hasn’t even been touched yet.
Your hands start to wander, exploring the vast amount of naked skin beneath you but deliberately avoiding the places that will provide Ona with any direct pleasure. You kiss her messily as your hands skate around the sides of her breasts, swallowing the moan that slips from her lips as you scratch your blunt nails over the ridges of her abs, before sending them right back up to her shoulders to start again. Your aim is to tease, to overstimulate her and drive her crazy to the point where she just has to start touching herself for you.
As your hands flit downwards again, dipping below her hipbones but still not between her legs, you feel rather than see the way that Ona clenches her thighs together, and you pull back from the kiss to smirk down at your girlfriend.
“Oh, is there something you want?” You can’t help but tease her. “You’re just desperate to put on a show for me, aren’t you darling?”
Ona’s response comes in the form of a delicious whine, her hips rolling upwards into yours, as much as they can while your body pins hers to the bed.
This might be your favourite version of Ona, lips kiss-swollen and long hair fanned out against the pillow, her dark eyes clouded with lust and barely coherent enough to tell you what she wants. It turns you on endlessly to know that you can reduce Ona to this state, that somebody who is so determined and assured in every other aspect of life can turn to putty so easily with just a kiss and a few dirty words.
“What do you want, baby?”
Ona is shy under your gaze, the confidence that she oozes on the football pitch gone in the bedroom, which is usually your domain to take charge, and you urge her on.
“Use your words, beautiful.”
“Please,” she gasps.
You reward her by letting one of your hands graze her nipple, and she arches her back into your touch, but you’re not satisfied with her plea.
“Please what?”
“Want you to touch me,” Ona rasps.
You lean forward, pressing a trail of open-mouthed kisses against the expanse of Ona’s neck, stopping just below her ear as your whisper, “I don’t think that is what you want. Can you try again for me?”
Ona tilts her head the other way in embarrassment and lets out a whine, then murmurs, “Want to show you how I touch myself.”
You’re not cruel enough to make her repeat the words again but louder, and instead reward her by saying, “Good girl.”
You roll off Ona’s body but reach for her face, cupping her jaw and tilting her head back towards yours as you join your mouths together in another kiss, somehow hotter and filthier than the last. You lick past the seam of Ona’s lips and she welcomes your tongue into her mouth with a gasp, one of her hands coming up to claw at your t-shirt as she tries to pull you even closer.
Your hand drops from her face, sliding down her shoulder and her arm as you continue to kiss, until you can loop your fingers through hers. Then you descend further, across Ona’s toned stomach and past her hips until you can nudge her hand between her own legs, finally releasing her fingers.
You whisper against her lips. “Go on. Show me.”
You’re close enough to hear the breath catch in her throat as her hand slides lower of its own accord and you lift yourself up, propping your weight on one arm as you gaze down her body in wonder and watch the hand that disappears between her legs. Ona’s eyes are closed, mouth slightly parted, a little crease of concentration between her eyebrows as her fingers dip lower.
She’s touched herself in front of you before, but it’s always been a part of something else. Quick fingers near her clit when you’ve already brought her close with your strap, or shaky camera angles over FaceTime while your hand works between your own legs. Never like this, never with the sole intention of showing you how she likes to do it, with every movement under scrutiny for your own viewing pleasure.
And what a sight it is.
“Fuck, Ona,” you praise your girlfriend. “You look so good like this.
Ona finds a bit of a rhythm and you watch the way that her wrist works as her fingertips dance around her clit. Your own hand finds her thigh, soft skin over hard muscle, and you gently draw her knee up to give yourself a better view. Her hips start to move in tandem with her hand, rocking against her fingers as her head falls back against the pillow.
“Tell me, Ona, what do you think about when you fuck yourself like this?”
“You,” Ona manages to gasp out, sliding her fingers lower and sinking them into herself once, twice, before she withdraws and returns their attention to her swollen clit. “Always you.”
Her fingers are shiny with arousal now and it takes a huge amount of willpower not to replace them with your own, loving nothing more than feeling Ona wet against your fingers or your tongue. But the sight of Ona grinding against her own hand is still evidence of how much she wants you, even indirectly, and you know this visual will be burned into your memory for a long time to come, keeping you warm on those lonely nights when you’re away with your respective national teams.
You want to hear more about Ona’s fantasies when she touches herself like this, so you press her for more.
“What do you think about me?” you ask, your fingers digging into her thigh as you continue to spread her open. “Do you imagine it’s me touching you? My fingers, my tongue?”
Ona keens at your words, hips rolling against her hand. You have to clench your thighs together, trying to quell your own arousal as you watch Ona give in to her own.
“You touching me,” Ona tells you, her voice low and hoarse. “You fucking me, your hands, your mouth. Telling me how pretty I am, how good I am for you.”
“You are pretty,” you tell her. “Fuck, Ona, if only you knew how beautiful you look for me right now. So good, showing me how you fuck yourself. Go inside for me, love. Show me how you pretend your fingers are mine.”
Ona obeys, hand moving further down as she slides first one finger, then two into her dripping hole. You can hear the wetness as her fingers pump in and out, imagining how warm and tight it must feel, watching in wonder as Ona’s hips cant against each thrust with greater abandon. Each moan that slips from her lips is like a symphony in your ears, the sight of her freckled skin flushed pink and writhing on the sheets more beautiful than the greatest works of art. Ona is simply divine as she takes her own pleasure, giving you a hundred new fantasies as she gives in to her own.
“It feels good inside, doesn’t it?”
“Uh huh,” is all Ona manages to grunt out in response.
“Imagine they’re my fingers,” you tell her. “Imagine it’s me inside you. Me filling you up, taking what’s mine.”
“Please…” Ona whines.
“Please, what?” you ask her, using the hand not on her thigh to sweep away some of the loose strands of hair plastered to her now sweaty temples.
“Please let me come.”
“Such a good girl,” you praise her. “Asking for my permission. Go on, cariño. Show me how you make yourself come.”
With two fingers still buried inside herself, Ona sends her other hand down to rub frantically at her clit and it takes just seconds for her to fall apart. Her back arches off the bed, her abs twitching and her legs shaking as she rides her way through tremor after tremor of pleasure and all you can do is soothe her, running your hands over every inch of her that you can reach as you press kisses to her neck and collar bones and murmurs words of encouragement into her hot skin.
“So beautiful. So good for me. Fuck, baby, I’m so turned on just watching you make yourself come like that.”
Ona lets out another cry as the final aftershocks ripple through her body, turning her head to nuzzle into your face as she slowly drags her hands away and the climax subsides.
She looks blissed out, cheeks pink and eyelids heavy. You reward her with another kiss, slower than before but no less messy, mostly due to Ona’s fucked out state beside you.
“Did that feel good?” you ask, running a hand over her stomach, her abs twitching with the sensitivity of your touch.
Ona doesn’t say anything, just lets out a hum that sounds like an affirmative, so you continue.
“Cause it looked good. Fuck, Ona, you did such a good job getting yourself off.” You entwine your hand with Ona’s, looking in awe at the stickiness that coats your joined fingers. “Look at what a mess you made, it’s almost like you don’t need me at all.”
You know exactly what you’re saying and Ona, especially in this state of post-orgasmic euphoria, is predictably needy.
“I do,” Ona rasps, her voice a little hoarse from moaning out her orgasm just a moment ago. “I always need you.”
“You do?”
“It’s always better when it’s you.”
You go on as if to kiss her again, nudging your nose against her, but stop just before your lips can connect.
“Yeah?” you breathe into the almost non-existent space between your mouths.
Ona nods, tiny movements of her head as her eyes go cross-eyed to stare back at you.
Your mouth curls upwards in a slow smile, a plan forming in your mind, and you press your lips not to hers, but to her neck. You start your descent, pressing kiss after kiss against Ona’s warm skin as you go. When you reach her tits you wrap your lips around a dusky nipple, and when her back arches off the bed in response, pressing herself further into your mouth, you maneuver so that you’re half on top of her again, slotting one of your legs between hers. You’re still clothed, though your legs are covered in just a skimpy pair of training shorts that you’re pretty sure are actually Ona’s, and you press your bare thigh against the heat between Ona’s legs.
She lets out a gasp, her hand coming up to find the back of your head and threading her fingers through your hair.
As your mouth leaves her nipple with a wet pop and continues the descent down her body, she seems to realise what your destination is and lets out a keening whine.
“I don’t think I can,” she tells you.
You shift your position again, taking advantage of the fact that Ona is still relaxed and slightly spaced out from the recent orgasm she gave herself to reposition her legs until you can settle yourself neatly between them.
“You can, baby,” you assure her, as your mouth moves over her stomach, the lines of her abs and hipbones guiding you lower towards the wetness between her legs. “You did so well showing me how you touch yourself. Let me reward you.”
True to your word, this is supposed to be a reward not a punishment and when your mouth finally reaches Ona’s cunt, you’re ever so gentle with her. You lick from bottom to top, keeping your tongue flat as you reach her clit, aware that she’s still too sensitive for anything precise. Humming at the taste, you focus more on cleaning up the evidence of her first orgasm than giving her another.
“Okay?” You lift your mouth only to replace it with a finger that teases at her entrance.
Ona exhales softly.
“Yeah.”
“You think you can come again for me?”
Ona pauses for a moment, just long enough that you worry she’s going to say no, but she eventually nods.
“Yeah.”
You press a kiss just above Ona’s clit.
“Good girl.”
…..
Part 2 coming soon…
557 notes
·
View notes
Text
BURNING DESIRE. — MIGUEL O’HARA.
summary: miguel can’t keep his hands off of you.
content warnings: 18+, kissing, biting, mentions of blood, daddy kink, fingering, swearing, muñeca means doll.
note: saw across the spiderverse yesterday and the miguel o’hara brainrot is real and couldn’t help myself. there’s a barely any plot, just horny thoughts. reblogs and feedback are greatly appreciated!
IT’S THE FIRST TIME that you and miguel are alone in almost a week. the past few days have been pure chaos, or is something supernatural threatening your respective universes or the kids wanting to hang out, leaving you and miguel unable to do anything by yourselves.
right now, you're on earth 1610—miles’ universe, waiting for the kids to finish something you don't really understand. the place you are in is cold and dark, and if it weren't for miguel by your side, you would be scared.
"are you cold?" miguel’s voice is barely a whisper, his face a combination of boredom, mud and dry blood.
you shake your head ‘no’, admiring his beautiful brown eyes. "just tired." you smile, and he smiles back at you. miguel brushes a strand of hair out of your face and behind your ear, thumb caressing your cheek.
miguel moves closer, the hint of a smirk on his face as you lean into his touch. he rests his forehead against yours and closes his eyes, and you use that as an opportunity to plant a chaste kiss on his lips.
"mh i liked that. do it again." he whispers and who are you to say no? you kiss him again, letting him feel how soft and warm your lips are against his.
"ugh, get a room!" you pull away quickly, heat rushing to your face, while miguel growls at hobie, who’s looking at you two, amused. “we've found it, come on."
you’re going to get up and follow the group when miguel stops you. his eyes have that spark you’ve seen a million times before, the one that tells you he's up to something. and before you even open your mouth to question him, his lips find their way to your neck.
your gaze goes to the door, begging that none of the kids turn around and come back for you, but your head goes blank the minute you feel him nipping and sucking along your hot skin. miguel hums, going up and up until he grabs your earlobe between his teeth.
a deep sigh leaves your lips when you feel his hand sliding under your shirt, covering your mouth to muffle a moan when he cups your breast.
“we really need to go.” you say, breathing heavily, but you don’t even make the attempt to pull away. it feels too good to make him stop.
miguel hisses, grabbing the back of your head and pressing his lips to yours, his tongue spreading them apart. he pushes you against the wall and you let out a pitiful moan when you feel how hard he is, hips moving by their own accord, seeking some friction.
“someone’s needy.” miguel teases you, fangs running along your jaw. you have no coherent thoughts in your mind, so the only answer you give him is another moan when he bucks his hips into you. “can you feel what you do to me?”
“miguel,” you whine, hands tugging at his hair. you don’t care if someone hears you anymore, you just want to feel him. “i want you to fuck me.” he gives you one particular hard thrust that has your cunt clenching around nothing.
“stay quiet, muñeca.” his breathing becomes labored, a desperate grunt leaving his lips when you sneak your hand down, palming him through his suit.
“please, miguel.”
“i can smell how wet you are.” he purrs, his large hand sliding down and into your pants. you mewl unintelligibly as his fingertips find your clit. “so fuckin’ desperate for my cock.” miguel ruts into you, fingers sliding down and right inside of you.
miguel looks into your glassy eyes and swollen lips from the searing kiss you just shared. he thinks that you’ve never look so beautiful. he curls his fingers just right and has you seeing stars; you can hardly think about anything other than how good he’s making you feel.
“miguel,”
he tsks, shaking his head. “try again.”
“daddy, daddy—”
“atta girl.” miguel runs his tongue along your bottom lip. “cum for daddy, i got you.”
and when you cum, it’s hard; eyes squeezing shut and legs shaking to the point that miguel has to wrap an arm around your waist to stop you from falling.
you’re barely aware of his fangs digging into your skin, enough to draw a little blood that has him fucking moaning when he tastes how salty and sweet you are.
“fffuck,” his head falls against your shoulders, pulling his fingers out of your pussy and bringing them to his mouth, licking them clean. “you alright, muñeca?”
you nod, giving him a tired smile. “yeah. good.” miguel chuckles, making sure you can stand on your own before pulling away.
“let’s get you home, ‘kay?” he says, raising his wrist and working on his watch. you can’t help but feel a pang in your chest, disappointment crossing your features.
“aren’t you going to…” you let the question hang in the air, too embarrassed to actually say the words.
miguel’s lips curve into a knowing smile. “i’m not done with you yet.” his promise rings in your ears as he pulls you to him. not even giving you time to warn the kids before you’re leaving.
© vhagarlovebot, 2023. — do not repost, translate, plagiarise or claim any of my works as your own.
#📮 ⌇ my works ˖⋆࿐#miguel o'hara#miguel o’hara x reader#atsv x reader#miguel o’hara x y/n#miguel o’hara smut#spiderman 2099#spiderman x reader
1K notes
·
View notes
Text
ough :(
#it's just. rambles i suppose#балаболим#emotionally and physically i'm ok i guess. i just can't make myself work again so. yeah. also have no one to speak so again. yeah#it's weird. i know the consiquenses of this. i still can't make myself. wow.#i really need to do something tomorrow at least. really wanna talk about it with someone too. share and stuff yknow? yh.#this emotional stillness is welcome and appreciated but at what cost? can't work when stressted can't work when not. what do you need???#(at myself of course)#...at least i figured a way to steal some ideas an not get caught. as in a way to calm myself when i find my idea too similar to other's#happenes sometimes. just. make something incredible and then BAM. i see where i might have taken it from.#even the firebud's not my idea. it's from a long deleted game. wasn't a main character or anything but still.#i have reworked them though. a lot. that might make them mine right?#ough. head hurts from all this thinking. that's why i like bооm!knuсkles so much huh?)#...though thinking about that book series is nice. there's lots of things to think about. all this. multidimentional travel.#adaptation to a new world. the creator even considered the possibility of different languages and materials which make up the world!#ough. such a good concept. the author's word play is also great. as great as it can work in russian)))#(dad keeps braging about how rich russian is. yeah we have a ton of words but not a lot of word play can't go from it)#(english seems to have worked it out though. you might hate dad jokes but i have yet to hear the likes of them in russian. love em)#(besides dad jokes. english has a certain way around words. it's flexible like those rubber rulers. has limits and yet. 's fun)#(maybe it's just me. i like noticing differences and simularities between languages)#anyway. i wouldn't mind tellw someone about this book series. i'm certainly not coherent enough to male a post about it :)
0 notes
Last Seen Blogs
packswolff
wolfpacks 〰️
allsimsyt
AllSims
conchetubah
4SÍN70TA
ronsaccount
hi im ron
thekingdomheartsdepths
Don't think twice;