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rahhhbananas · 1 year

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✭ ✭ ✭ 𝐌𝐘 𝐒𝐎𝐍 ✭ ✭ ✭ ft. a lot of characters

summary. Y/n is very protective of his son (aka Spider Plush).

warning(s). He/Him pronouns, foul language, Hobie is a major bully

a/n. Y/n and Spider-Plush are the new Miguel and Lego Spider-Man

“He is a person! And you will treat him that way!”

The voice of Y/n welcomed the newly woken society. It was around 7 am, and a commotion had begun in Miguel’s office. As the sun lazily illuminated the sky, Miles groggily made his way towards Miguel's office, attempting to rub the sleep from his eyes. He couldn't fathom why there was such a commotion at this early hour. "Why is there so much yelling? It's 7 in the morning...!" he groaned, his voice laced with exhaustion. Miles walked through the door, greeting Gwen and Peter B. who were watching the scene amused. Miles looked to see Y/n in a heated debate with both Miguel and Hobie, although it was mostly Hobie, Miguel was sitting down, trying to sooth an incoming migraine.

Pavitr stood at Y/n’s side, cradling a….Spider-Man…plushie? “What is going on here..” Miles who was now wide awake stared at the situation, looking at Gwen for answers. Gwen responded with a chuckle “Get this…their arguing because Hobie skipped Spider-Plush in line for breakfast.” Gwen managed to say between fits of laughter. Miles gave Gwen a look “So, he doesn’t believe in consistency and he doesn’t believe in manners?” Miles watched Y/n, who looked like he was on the brink of committing murder, due to Hobie’s nonchalant face. Peter chimed in, catching a swinging Mayday “I don’t think he did it to be rude. Maybe because he likes getting on Y/n’s nerves,”

Jess who just walked in looked at Peter, “This early morning air finally gave you a brain?” She walked towards Miguel, handing him water and probably a headache pill. Miguel thanked Jess, looking up at the continuing argument. “Yeah..and how did Pavitr get into all this?” Miles questioned, Gwen laughed, for what seemed to be the 4th time “That’s even funnier! He’s trying to take Hobie to court,” Miles smiled, seeing the obvious amusement in the situation “Yeah, somehow he’s got a diploma in that stuff.” Jess chimed in from the computer.

“That’s not the fucking point, Hobart! My son deserves respect! You’ve made him cry!” Y/n gestures to the “crying” plushie, and Pavitr who’s nodding in agreement. Hobie scoffed “Cryin? He’s got a tear sticker on ‘is face! You’ve got yourself fooled!”. This was Miguel’s last straw, he finally flipped the table, literally, sending everything flying— including the cup of water, that Spider-Plush was now drowned in. Gasp filled the small crowd, the laughter coming to a halt to stare at Y/n who was breathing heavily, trying to calm down.

Y/n slowly turned, looking at the soaked Spider-Plush. The plush squeaked, comical tears spewing from its large eyes. Y/n turned to Miguel and Hobie— the latter raised his hands, in a attempt to prove his innocence, he instead pointed to the leader who sported a small bead of sweat, his posture straightened “Umm, that was an accident- I was trying to de-escalate the situation. My anger over took…” Y/n pounced on Miguel, not letting him finish his sentence. Miguel tried to pull the other off his face, stumbling around while knocking things over.

“I-it was an accident!”

“YOU HORRIBLE PERSON!”

“GAAH! WHERE DID THESE CLAWS COME FROM?”

“DON’T….WORRY ABOUT IT!”

“JESSGETHIMOFFME!”

“Sorry, Miguel. I’m not getting into this fight.”

“APOLOGIZE OR SUFFER!”

“AHHHH!”

The crowd watched in silence as Miguel walked out with a bucket on his head, drenched in water. Y/n, on the other hand, walked out cradling his son, the plush wrapped in a towel, Y/n cooed trying to calm down the squeaks emitting from the plushie. Y/n walks up to the group, staring directly at Hobie “Hobart. My lawyer will contact you.” Y/n pointed to Pavitr, and somehow the teen was in a suit. Hobie chuckled, “Fair enough.” Hobie looked at Gwen “Gwendy. Ya down to be my lawyer?” Gwen shook her head “Nope, your not dragging me into this.” Hobie sighed in defeat “Alrigh’ Miles, see ya in a suit on Tuesday.” Hobie shook said boys shoulders, before running off, leaving the boy no time to complain.

Y/n looked at his boyfriend, tutting his head “Fine. Miles. You wanna play that game? Helping my enemy!” Y/n groaned, pulling shades from seemingly nowhere, while also putting them on “I want my child support by Friday,” Y/n said, striding away, Pavitr shuffling after him, the stuff suit preventing him from running.

Meanwhile, Miles stood shocked “Child support? Wha…what is he talking about!” Gwen shook her head disapprovingly “Come on Miles, don’t play dumb, take responsibility.” She advised before departing, leaving Peter who shook his head as well “Don’t worry kid, we’ve all been there..” Peter smiles, before joining the rest.

“Wha- what are you guys talking about!”

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toxicanonymity · 6 months

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You can totally say no if your not comfy doing it but maybe you can suggest another writer who you may think might? But if yoir request are open is there anyway I can convince you to write on the topic of reader being Sara's best friend and has tried to come onto Joel multiple times (ie sneaking into his room etc) and then escalating to slipping a roofie into his drink one night while her and Sara are home on winter break from college? If you're not comfortable i totally understand and im sorry if I made you uncomfortable its just your writing for the darker stuff is so amazing 💖

locket.

2k, joel miller x dark f!reader | master list A/N: here's your dead dove in a pear tree 🖤 in a way, it's kinda the inverse of night talks 😅 didn't overthink this one, so FIWB. WARNINGS: I8+ big girthy age gap (44/21), drugs, dosing, f masturbation, dubcon unsafe p in v, somnophilia-ish, choking adjacent move, degradation (both), cum, dead dove december

You're tired of her hot Dad playing hard-to-get, and you're going to put an end to it tonight. You've come home with your college roommate, as you often do since your family lives far. Once again, her dad is dressed like a piece of meat. Tight, white, ride-me t-shirt. Cock bulging in his slutty joggers. He’s walking around double cheeked up on a Friday night in front of his daughter’s best friend. His daughter’s best friend who thinks about him every time she touches herself.

Sarah falls asleep fast, and you can still hear the TV downstairs. You put on your locket, take off your underwear, and adjust your oversized, wide neck t-shirt to make a wardrobe malfunction inevitable with the slightest movement. You creep down the stairs and pause at the landing, where you lightly caress your nipples, bringing them to full attention. You’re already tingling downstairs. You creep up to the edge of the living room with your arms straight down, pushing your boobs together, hands clasped together near your crotch as if you're cold. And to be fair, the air is a little cool on your bare cunt. You’re dripping for him, and the shirt barely covers your asscheeks. Joel barely glances, then does a double take.

His eyes fall on your breasts before reaching your face. His jaw clenches. After a few seconds, he asks, "What?"

"Sorry to bother you. I couldn't sleep."

"What am I s'posed to do about that," he grumbles, looking away from you, resuming his focus on the television.

You shiver and briskly rub your arms, feeling the air hit your exposed nipple for a moment, and you ask about changing the thermostat. He sighs, braces his hands on his knees, and gets up. You shamelessly ogle the bulge in his gray joggers. While he's on his way to adjust the thermostat, you open your locket and drop a little medicine into his can of beer: half a sleeping pill and half a Viagra.

In the corner of your eye, Joel is lingering in the hall. He rubs his beard, looking at you while you pretend to look at the TV. He slowly walks forward. "Goddamn slut," he mutters under his breath, and you force away a smile as you sit down.

When Joel returns to the sofa, you're sitting next to his seat. You bring your knee up to rest on the sofa and feel your pussy exposed. He picks up a blanket off the other end and sets it in your lap.

"Take this with ya." He picks up his beer, and moves to the easy chair. You don't miss the way he adjusts himself as he settles into the chair.

You make yourself comfortable, and when you just sit there, he says, "thought ya said ya were cold.”

“I'm comfy now.”

You sit there in silence watching TV. He finishes his beer and gets another. You keep an eye on him. The sleeping pill seems to hit him first. His eyelids get heavy and he rests his head back on the chair. His breathing is steady. You think you see him getting hard. Yeah, something definitely moves in his joggers. He’s nodding off and jolts awake. He grabs his crotch and mutters, “fuck,” before he remembers you're there. You shift positions to lie on your stomach, facing him, with your ass exposed so he can see your butt cheeks.

“Go to sleep, darlin’. God damn.” Your heart flutters. Oh, now he’s done for.

“You sure?” You ask and go into a cat pose with your ass higher in the air.

“Yeah.” His eyes are half shut. He tries to be subtle about slowly rubbing himself for relief, but you can see just fine. “Fuck-” he interrupts himself with a yawn. He shakes his head at you. “gave me somethin’, didn't ya?”

You wet your lips and look down. “What makes you say that? Do you feel funny?”

“Like you don't know.”

In for a penny, in for a pound. You shift onto your side, then swing your legs around in front of you as you sit up on the sofa. “Well. . .I feel funny, Mr. Miller,” you purr as you spread your legs for him. “Yeah, I feel funny right here.” You slowly, lightly caress your mound near your clit with two fingers, then spread them to trace down your outer lips.

“Somethin’ wrong with you,” he shakes his head. His brow furrows and he swallows. But he doesn’t leave. . .He looks back at the television. Your body is churning out slick, getting ready for him, but right now it��s going to waste on his sofa. You gather some from your hole and bring it up to your clit. You grab a breast and begin to touch yourself. He’s sleepy, but he's hanging in there. The heel of his palm is planted in his lap.

When he begins to nod off again, you get up and approach the chair. He stays seated, awake but sleepy, and his breath deepens as you brace your hand on one arm of the chair. You wedge one knee between his outer thigh and the chair’s arm. Then the other side, so you're straddling him. You both look down at his visible erection. He looks up. His lips form a subtle pout, then part slightly. His brown eyes glaze over as he studies your face.

“Dress like you want it,” you whisper. He closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. You reach for his cock and he gently stops your wrist.

“I could be your dad,” he mutters, more to himself than to you.

“Please,” you whisper. Your hand doesn't stop, and he doesn't try to stop it anymore as you reach. You grab the rock hard protrusion and he silently grunts from the back of his throat. He’s throbbing against your palm through the thin cotton. Your breath hitches at the first contact. You twitch and ache for him. His brow furrows.

“‘If you’re gonna do it, do it,” he challenges you in a near whisper. He must be painfully hard. He can't take it. You massage him through the soft fabric.

Your lips part, and you tilt your head as you read his face.

He mumbles, “Gonna pussy out?” He cracks a little smile and adds, “with your pussy out?”

You sigh. “You’re so fucking cute.”

“Such a rotten girl,” he murmurs with half lidded eyes as his hands come to your thighs. You shiver in a bolt of pleasure as his hands wrap around the backs of your thighs and slowly run down to your knees, then up to your ass. He squeezes your cheeks, and his cock throbs in your hand.

“Coward,” he whispers with a snarl and takes his hands away, resting his arms on the chair.

You brace one hand next to his head on the back of the chair, and your heart shaped locket dangles as you take down his waistband with your free hand. His cock slaps against his white t-shirt, making a wet spot.

Good Lord. Your mouth falls open. You tug the joggers down more. He grunts softly when you cup his soft, fuzzy balls. Then you release them, grab his shaft, and hear yourself moan. Never felt anything stiffer. It's angry and now the tip is actively oozing. Your mouth waters and your body opens up for him.

He watches your face, then yawns again. You rub yourself and gather your slick, then wrap your slippery hand around his cock. You scoot your knees forward and hover over it. He inhales through his nose as you lower yourself to make contact. You pause with the tip just inside. It's already a stretch, but deeper inside, your core is begging for more. Your entrance spasms around his tip. He gasps and tenses, gripping the arms of the chair as you begin to sink down. He closes his eyes and winces as his cock divides your walls and you moan as your bodies become flush. You sit on his dick while your body makes space for him and you get even wetter.

“Fu–ohh” he tilts his head back. His neck veins strain. He's so goddamn hot.

You slowly tilt your hips and let out only an inch of him before bottoming out again. His cock takes up so much space inside you. You look down between your bodies. His white shirt has ridden up to expose the happy trail and the slight pudge of his lower belly. His stomach heaves with deep breaths. You begin to move on him, slowly.

“Ahhh, fuhh-uhhhk,” he sighs. His brows knit together and he watches you ride him.

You tilt your hips, seeking the pressure of your clit nudging his body. “Yeah,” you breathe and move a little faster. Your necklace swings, the silver heart getting closer and closer to him. Then his hand flies up to wrap around your neck, trapping the chain. His grip isn’t firm, but the presence of his hand around your throat is enough to freeze you on his cock and give you a surge of need. Your pussy spasms, your slick walls begging for the friction they've earned.

“You’re sick,” he mutters, then his hips punch up and he sighs. He lets go of your throat, then tugs your shirt down under your tits.

“Fuck,” he sighs, the corners of his mouth glistening with saliva. He reaches out and palms your breasts, then hooks his hands under your arms. He watches your tits move with your rhythm.

“How many times have you thought about this,” you ask.

“I don't think about it,” he claims, but his face says constantly. You massage your own breasts as you ride him, and he sighs. Hopefully he can't get enough. Hopefully he comes back for more. You roll your hips with a moan. That's why you didn't use a roofie - He needs to remember this. He needs to need it. “Mmm.” Maybe he’ll be desperate, mad. As he watches you ride him, his eyelids begin to droop again. Maybe he’ll be mad enough to take it.

You gently slap his cheek. “Stay with me,” you command, and begin to ride him harder. You slot your fingers into his hair. “When's the last time you came,” you ask, massaging his scalp as you move on his cock. “Hmm?” You pause with his cock all the way inside, and he twitches inside you. “Hmm?”

“Days,” he whispers. You start rolling your hips again. “Been days, ohhh–fuck.”

“You're gonna come inside,” you nod. His cock twitches again.

“Ohh, fuck. Are you–ohhh,” he sighs, “are you–ugghh.”

“It's okay,” you reassure him, “It's okay.” God, the thought of Mr. Miller nutting in your cunt has gotten you over the edge so many times alone. You're close. You bring your body closer against his and grind your clit into him, your body moving his swollen manhood, subtly rocking it as your clit presses into his pubic hair and your insides swell with the pressure of pent up pleasure. “Ohh, God,” you sigh and feel your body tighten, tighten, almost there. “Ohh, fuck,” you pant.

“Ohh,” he moans and his hips lift under you. The tension snaps and your clit pulses, making you whine. You grind into him as you pulse, release pressure, pulse, release more, losing yourself in waves of release.

“Oh, God,” you moan, fluttering around his stiff cock.

“Ugggh,” he groans and his hands come to your ass. He begins to move you on his cock as your climax wanes. He moves you harder and moans unrestrained. He grits his teeth, and his fingertips dig into the plush of your ass. ”Ohh,” he sighs and fucking erupts.

“Oh shit,” you whine, and keep clenching around him with warm bursts of him flooding your core. “Ohh God.”

“Oh, fuck,” he pants, bursting again and again, filling you with his seed. “Ohhh,” his pulses fade and you come to a rest in his lap. He lays back against the chair breathing heavily. You lean forward and hug him. He doesn't have the energy to push you away. Soon, he's snoring and you're just sitting there enjoying the fullness of his cock and cum.

“Mmm,” you sigh softly and begin to push yourself up. You let his cock out and some of his cum comes with it. You scoop it up from around his tip and draw a heart on his shirt, imagining how cute it'll be when it's dry and hard. Then you get off the chair entirely and draw a few small hearts of cum on his joggers. You pull the waistband up for him, then plant a kiss on his lips before leaving him there. Then you go back upstairs and put on your underwear before you get back in his daughter's bed.

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Thank you so much for reading, ILY 💖 If you really like dark reader, you might wanna try my ghostface fic every inch

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I hear you about notifs not working, i hear you about tags not working (i'm not receiving a lot of my tags either). consider checking my fic notifs blog @toxicfics or the "latest fics" link on my profile header once in a while to see what you might have missed.

#bfd!joel miller #joel miller x reader #cw dubcon #tw dubcon #dead dove december 2023 #dead dove #joel miller smut #dark!reader #joel miller x female reader #joel miller x f!reader #best friend's dad!joel miller #toxicanonymity ☠️

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snoringkitty1 · 2 months

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Sunday Boyfriend Headcanons Tw: Mildly suggestive content, fluff :>

૮︵⭒‿᧔☪︎᧓‿⋆︵౨

Obviously, Sunday is a very busy man, running a whole resort/dreamland is rough especially when dealing with so much at once.

Hes so pretty?? How could you possibly land him?? Pure absolute luck i tell you.

At the start of your relationship, because of how busy he is, he might not make much time for you initially..i feel like sometimes he just forgets.

Since he's so forgetful in the beginning, it'll be up to you to start up stuff, dates, cuddle sessions, naturally both with take thorough planning to fit into his schedule.

During these dates or cuddle sessions though, i bet he's just the sweetest thing, or the slyest thing, the in-between being a flirty shit.

He's sweet though, behind that politicians smile, he's the type of guy who just loves to have his hand held, or his face, not a fan of having his cheeks pinched though, makes him feel childish.

You are his pillow, you have no choice, none at all, and who are you to deny him?

Personally, i have a head canon for all angelic characters that messing with their halo's can help them relax, so doing that after a long day? He has ascended.

You glanced at the clock as you scrolled through things on your phone to keep yourself awake, It was a pleasant surprise whenever you were still awake whenever Sunday got home. You paused your video and sat up a bit when you heard footsteps coming down the hall, smiling to yourself and setting your phone aside and crossing your legs. A cheery yet tired look on your face as Sunday opened the door and met your eyes with tired look of his own. "Ah..stayed up late again?" he chuckled and bit back a yawn as he walked over and kissed your forehead, "Naturally, you look so much happier when i stay up for you." You pointed out and he shrugged, "I thought i could hide it better, but i suppose not." He smiled and turned away to go change and get ready for bed, you plugged your phone in and got cozy in bed and waited for the angelic man to return. His wing appendages fluttered softly as he walked over and flopped onto you, a robe covering most of his body, though the top was was loosened to feel less suffocating. You looked down at him and raised a brow before laughing, "You act like someone's racing you to use me as a pillow." He looked up and hummed, his wings reaching up to tickle your cheeks, "This spot belongs to me." He stated confidently and tilted his head when you rolled your eyes, I thought that was already established?" His darker look faded into a pleased one, smiling as he laid his head on your chest again and promptly closed his eyes, this was your usual queue to toy with his halo or the wings on his head. Doing so put him to sleep like a form of lullaby, the sound of his steady breathing filled your ears, a clear sign he was asleep. "Goodnight.." You whispered softly, before falling asleep yourself.

He can be manipulative at times to get what he wants from you, but its typically nothing bad, things as simple as what place you two will eat at.

His charm is more less what he uses to get to you.

For all that he is or goes through he's just a soft little thing by the end of the day.

Even if he only ever wants affection the way he wants it, he's still sweet about it, or hot :>

If you by chance decide to deny him, he'll just escalate and get his affection through more pleasant means for the two of you.

Top, definitely, loves the control he has when on top.

If you want to top him, just tug the wings on his head, he'll go weak.

Endurance..well, he can last a fair bit.

Aftercare though is really nice, he seems like the type to get you a shirt and a bit to cool off before offering to take a long bath with you.

Sunday took a moment to admire your exhausted state, his gaze fixed on the stands of hair that he was toying with while you gathered your baring's. "You look happy with yourself.." You mumbled, smiling at him before sitting up. "Naturally." He hummed and sat up, gently patting your back before getting out of bed and walking around to pick you up. "Huh? Where are we going?" you inquired and glanced up at him before realizing he was carrying you to the bathroom. "A bath, so we don't wake up feeling gross." He smiled and set you on the sink counter and pecked your lips before he turned away to start filling the bathtub with water, even adding in some bubbles to make it better. "Oooh, awe~" You smiled and tilted your head, "Thank you..". "Well, it is the least i can do dear, if i have the time tomorrow we can go out for a date, hm?" He smiled and picked you up and set you in the toasty water with bubbles nearly overwhelming you before you laughed and relaxed. Sunday hastily joined you, sitting across from you before he pulled you close and held you in his lap, "Feel free to fall asleep..i'll be here to hold you up." he whispered and kissed your neck, "don't gotta tell me twice~" you smiled and leaned back against him and closed your eyes. Sunday smiled and watched you fall asleep, pressing kisses against your head and neck and would continue to do so till you both got out.

૮︵⭒‿᧔☪︎᧓‿⋆︵౨

Thanks for reading.

#fluff #honkai star rail #headcanon #boyfriend #sunday #sunday x reader #sunday x you #sunday x y/n #hsr x you #hsr x reader #hsr #honkai star rail x reader #star rail #honkai star rail sunday #honkai sunday #star rail sunday #boyfriend scenario #scenarios

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kizoken · 6 days

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cw: whiney satoru, hate sex from your end, afab!reader, mdni, hand job, sub!satoru.

⤷masterlist

⇢ ˗ˏˋthis became hella long for some reason, its like 1k words 👩‍🔬

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･𝗛𝗢𝗪 𝗧𝗢 𝗗𝗘𝗔𝗟 𝗪𝗜𝗧𝗛 𝗬𝗢𝗨𝗥 𝗖𝗟𝗜𝗡𝗚𝗬 𝗟𝗢𝗦𝗘𝗥 𝗘𝗫-𝗕𝗢𝗬𝗙𝗥𝗜𝗘𝗡𝗗?; is what you typed in the search bar on your laptop. your eye began to twitch in the midst of scrolling down to find the answers to your predicament.

each and every 'answer' google gave you are: legal or psychological advice, which was the last road you wanted to ride on. satoru was... harmless, to you at least. he was just hurt. and needed to cling to a safe space. however, you were not that safe space anymore.

'hi sweet!'

'how's ur night?'

'i miss u'

'like a lot'

'i think i left some stuff at your apartment,,, may i come for them?'

and so on, the myriad of texts jingles through your laptops' notifications. a month and a half, you had broken up with satoru gojo a month and a half ago. and he somehow always forgets things he left in your apartment and texts you how you are, how your studies are going, or sending you drunken audios telling you how much he misses you. even escalating to tell mutual friends how much he loves you and desperately wants you back.

any other man would have ruined your life by now, but satoru's devotion to you was unshakeable. it was you, you, you, you, you, you, you. you plagued his mind every second of the day. he told you this in one of the countless nights he found comfort inside you. he would never hurt you. you were sure of that.

he was just a little obsessive, that's all. in the end you felt terrible, for him, and for yourself.

'tomorrow afternoon, come.'

'stop bothering.'

you were not a fan of being mean to your ex, though being this direct might steer him to lower his intensity. even though if you found it somewhat cute.

'alright see ya >w<'

a giggle rose from you as you watched the last message he sent for the day. you slammed your computer shut at the thought of your ex being somewhat cute by his way of texting.

he is not. he is suffocating, that's what he is. that is why you broke up with him in the first place. the pound of your head on your pillow reprimanded you into logic. and now, he was going to be at your apartment tomorrow. whatever the near future held, you soothed yourself to sleep.

"hi sweet!" satoru poorly hid his smile behind a single tulip flower unlike his eyes which were always hidden behind his round sunglasses.

in contrast, you kept your words to yourself, only gesturing the man to step inside to look for his belongings. as he should. satoru eagerly made his way inside and gave you the flower, you had not even a smile to offer him as you coursed yourself to throw the plant on the garbage bin.

"awwe sweet, why must you hurt me so."

"you're here for one thing, and one thing only," his pout was swiftly erased while hearing your words with no emotion, "get your stuff quickly."

"y-yeah, you're right." he then disappear from your line of view and you can finally puff out the air you have been holding.

'how in the world did he manage to look so good even after all this time?'

it was the circling question that kept you in a choke hold. in your mind, he should look like a mess. you wanted him to be. although everything is in the details; his hair inched further down his former clean-cut frame and some stubble began to peak out from his smooth face. his buttoned-up shirt had wrinkles here and there but, it made the angelic, almost god like man, to look normal. even daring to say in the brink of a pathetic look.

you took a moment to sit down on your living room couch and collect yourself. the thought of him a complete and utterly obvious mess stirred some found emotions inside you. and grew at concerning rates while thinking about it.

"all done. sorry for bothering you." he showed his pearly teeth with a cheeky smile while telling you such bold-faced lie, "so..."

he trailed closer to where you sat, "i guess i won't be seeing you in a while-"

the box you had prepared for him to place his thing in, tilted as one of his hands reached to settle on the back of his neck, "shit!"

gojo cursed as he saw one of his signed baseball balls fall onto the ground and roll under your grey couch, "i'll get that."

swiftly he ducked on his hands and knees to look for his precious item under your furniture. however, his position made your eye tick and scratch that part of your brain that made you have this disdain and attraction towards your ex.

his tucked shirt skid upwards, revealing your ex's smooth milky skin and back dimples. you did not recall ever seeing his body divots. were you so blind as to not pay well and good attention to someone who you're supposed to like?

somewhat and somehow your fingertips began to trace along his dimples and spine, sending shivers all along his now stiffened body, "oh, uh-shit...sorry."

you shifted your weight away from gojo, as you avoided sight of him, quite flustered, "i-i really didn't know what i was doing."

gojo had taken the ball in a rush and straightened himself. his back facing you while settling his belonging on the box, "no, please... keep going."

"what?" you finally settled your vision on him, fidgeting and obviously anxious. however, he reached for the hand that caressed his back.

"keep touching me... please."

"so this is what you wanted huh?" the pitchiness in your voice lowered. was he planning to lure you in once more? to his unforgiving hands? to your utmost disdain and misfortune, he was winning you. just like he wanted.

"i knew you were pathetic. but begging for my touch? bending over? you really hit rock bottom, huh?" you inched closer to whisper near his face. his silver hair had the scented fragrance of strawberries, which lured you in further to his body.

melodies of pleasure seeped from deep within satoru through his fine lips. the graze of your fingertips alone made him tread the fine line of his sanity. a bubbling feeling of distaste overcame you, with him and especially yourself. because it was ridiculous of you to feel this way due to him being under your ultimate control.

now your hands traversed through his toned abdomen, from his clothed nipples down to where his bellybutton is supposed to be, "should i go lower?"

the stiff tent in his pants was prevalent and seemed painful enough. and along with your melt worthy touches, satoru could only nod and nudge his face near yours.

as he desired, you unzipped his pants. not only was the bulge ever present, but a wet spot dampened the soft fabric of his underwear. and with zero hesitation you let his dick free out of its confinement, only to find the sweet, pleasurable relief of your touch as you began to stroke along his base.

"more, s-sweet, mmhhm, more~"

a low laugh emerged from you, marveling in awe and repulse at his pleadings, "spit on your cock and i'll go faster satoru."

from your lidded eyes you see the string of drool leave his lips and land at the tip of his cock. with your thumb you began to coat around it, sticky with his own drool and precum, the white-haired man could only grip at your thighs in ecstasy. his praise fueled word echoes through your mind, rendering you to pump around his length faster and occasionally palm his balls.

at this point satoru, a carefree man to most, was under you mumbling in a lovestruck trance. chained to your presence alone, and you thought how fun it would be to just let him cum with just your words.

the moment you stopped giving attention to his length, your ex desperately reached for your sticky hands, trying to make you go further and for him to find that sweet release with your guidance.

"cum right now or i won't let you fuck me in the couch right after this." you commanded, and not long after strings of heavy cum sprinted towards your living room table and the box of satoru's belongings, "shit. now that impressive."

his head laid limp on your shoulder. his dick twitching happily, "c'mon." you taped his arm.

his sky eyes were blown out from his release, however he looked quite puzzled.

"i'm fulfilling my end of the promise..." the t-shirt you had on flew somewhere else in the room, leaving you bare chested. satoru now more composed than before, began to fiddle around with the fabric of the couch. it seemed like he wished to convey his thoughts to you, though you were the one to encourage him to speak.

"what... are you gonna make me kick you in the balls now?"

reblogs and comments are appreciated ᜊ(𐭅" ॑ ॑")𐭅♡

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simpforfandom231 · 2 months

Text

Throwing shit PT1

Just y/n and Reneé throwing stuff at each other but it ends well in pt2, i promise

————————————————————————

The apartment crackled with tension, the air thick with unresolved frustration. Reneé Rapp, the renowned singer, stood facing her girlfriend, Y/N, their voices rising in a tumultuous crescendo. Y/N's accusation hung heavy in the air like a discordant note in an otherwise perfect melody.

"I can't believe you're defending him again!" Y/N's voice cut through the room, her eyes ablaze with anger.

Reneé's own frustration boiled over. "I've told you a million times, there's nothing going on between me and my guitarist!"

Y/N scoffed, disbelief etched on her face. "Oh, please! I'm not blind, Reneé. I see the way he looks at you during your performances."

Reneé shook her head, her hands balling into fists at her sides. "That's ridiculous! He's just my guitarist, nothing more."

The tension thickened, suffocating the room with its intensity. Then, in a moment of rage, Y/N grabbed a glass from the countertop and hurled it at Reneé.

The glass shattered against the wall, the sound echoing through the apartment like a gunshot. Reneé recoiled, her eyes widening in shock as she dodged the projectile.

"You're insane!" Reneé yelled, her voice trembling with anger.

Fueled by adrenaline and fury, Reneé retaliated, grabbing a nearby plate and hurling it back at Y/N with equal force. The plate crashed against the floor, scattering ceramic shrapnel across the room.

Y/N's eyes flashed with fury as she lunged forward, her voice rising to a deafening scream. "How dare you!"

Reneé matched her intensity, her own voice a fierce counterpoint. "How dare I? How dare you!"

The apartment reverberated with their heated argument, the walls practically vibrating with their conflicting emotions. Insults flew like arrows in a battlefield of words, each one striking its mark with deadly accuracy.

In the midst of the chaos, Y/N finally reached her breaking point. "I'm done! I'm going to bed, and you can sleep on the couch for all I care!"

Reneé's jaw clenched, her fists still trembling with anger. "Fine! Maybe I will!"

With that final declaration, Y/N stormed off, leaving Reneé standing alone in the wreckage of their fight.

The next morning dawned with a heavy weight lingering in the air, a palpable tension that seemed to seep into every corner of the apartment. Reneé awoke with a sense of dread knotting in her stomach, the events of the previous night replaying in her mind like a broken record.

As she stumbled off the sofa, her muscles aching from the restless sleep on the couch, Reneé found herself confronted once again by the aftermath of their explosive argument. Broken glass glinted on the floor, a stark reminder of the violence that had erupted between them.

Y/N emerged from the bedroom, her expression still etched with resentment as she cast a cold glance in Reneé's direction. "You're still here?"

Reneé bristled at the accusation, her own anger reigniting at the sight of Y/N's dismissive demeanor. "Where else would I be?"

Y/N scoffed, her voice dripping with sarcasm. "Oh, I don't know, maybe off cozying up to your precious guitarist!"

Reneé's temper flared at the implication, her fists clenching at her sides. "For the last time, there's nothing going on between me and him!"

The familiar refrain of their argument echoed through the apartment, each accusation and denial adding fuel to the fire of their conflict. Before either of them could stop it, the tension escalated once again into a full-blown shouting match.

Insults flew like arrows, each one sharper and more cutting than the last. Reneé's voice rose to a fever pitch as she hurled verbal barbs at Y/N, each word laced with venomous intent. Y/N, equally incensed, launched her own barrage of insults in return, their voices melding together in a cacophony of anger and resentment.

In a moment of blind rage, Reneé seized the nearest object—a decorative vase—and hurled it across the room with all her might. The vase shattered against the wall, sending shards of porcelain cascading to the floor in a symphony of destruction.

Y/N's eyes widened in shock at the display of aggression, her own fury reaching a boiling point. With a primal scream, she retaliated, grabbing a throw pillow from the couch and launching it back at Reneé with surprising force.

The pillow collided with Reneé's chest, momentarily knocking the wind out of her sails. But instead of backing down, Reneé's resolve only strengthened, her determination to win this battle of wills burning fiercely within her.

The apartment became a battleground, each room a theater of war as Reneé and Y/N waged their verbal warfare with unrelenting ferocity. Furniture toppled, dishes shattered, and tempers flared hotter than the flames of their passion.

And yet, beneath the surface of their tumultuous conflict, a spark of something else simmered—a flicker of longing, of desire, of the love that still bound them together despite the chaos that threatened to tear them apart.

As the sun rose higher in the sky, casting its warm golden glow through the windows, Reneé and Y/N found themselves locked in a silent standoff, their breaths heavy and labored, their eyes locked in a silent battle

Reneé and Y/N stood amidst the wreckage of their argument, a sudden knock echoed through the apartment, breaking the heavy silence like a discordant note in an otherwise somber melody. Both women turned towards the door, their expressions a mixture of surprise and annoyance.

Reneé hesitated, her hand hovering uncertainly over the doorknob. "Who could that be?"

Y/N rolled her eyes, her frustration palpable. "Probably just the neighbors, complaining about the noise again."

With a resigned sigh, Reneé opened the door to reveal their neighbors standing in the hallway, their faces drawn into expressions of thinly veiled annoyance.

"We couldn't help but notice the, uh, passionate discussion you two were having," one of the neighbors said, their tone dripping with sarcasm. "We were just wondering if you could keep it down a bit. We're trying to watch TV, you know."

Y/N's jaw dropped in disbelief at the audacity of their neighbors. "Are you kidding me right now?"

The neighbors merely shrugged, their indifference infuriating in its arrogance. "Just a friendly request, that's all. Thank you very much."

As the neighbors retreated back into their own apartment, Reneé and Y/N exchanged incredulous glances, both equally appalled by the encounter. But before they could dwell on it any further, the reality of their situation came crashing back down upon them.

With a heavy sigh, Reneé turned back towards the apartment, her shoulders slumping in defeat. "Well, I guess we should start cleaning up this mess."

Y/N nodded in agreement, her own frustration still simmering beneath the surface. As they began to pick up the pieces of their shattered argument, the tension between them remained palpable, a silent barrier that seemed to grow stronger with each passing moment.

"It's always the same," Reneé muttered under her breath, her voice heavy with resignation.

Y/N heard the words, her own anger flaring once again. "What's that supposed to mean?"

Reneé glanced up, her expression guarded. "It means that no matter how many times we fight, nothing ever seems to change."

Y/N's eyes narrowed, her voice tinged with bitterness. "Maybe if you understood how it felt, you'd do something about it."

Reneé bristled at the accusation, her own frustration boiling over. "Oh, and what exactly am I supposed to do?"

Before Y/N could respond, Reneé dropped a bombshell that sent shockwaves rippling through the room. "I invited Evan over to have dinner with us tonight."

Y/N's mouth fell open in shock, her anger giving way to disbelief. "You did what?"

Reneé met her gaze evenly, her resolve unwavering. "You heard me. Evan's coming over, whether you like it or not."

With that final declaration, Y/N stormed off towards the bedroom, her footsteps echoing loudly against the hardwood floors. Slamming the door shut behind her, she left Reneé standing alone in the aftermath of their latest confrontation, her heart heavy with regret and uncertainty.

The day dragged on with an oppressive weight, each passing hour stretching into eternity as Y/N remained holed up in the bedroom, her anger simmering beneath the surface like a dormant volcano waiting to erupt. Meanwhile, Reneé tried in vain to carry on with her day, the tension between her and Y/N hanging heavy in the air like a thick fogge

As evening approached, Reneé knew that she couldn't avoid the inevitable any longer. With a heavy sigh, she approached the closed bedroom door, steeling herself for what lay beyond.

"Y/N," Reneé called out, her voice tentative. "We need to get ready for dinner."

There was no response, only the sound of silence echoing back at her like a mocking reminder of their strained relationship.

With a resigned shake of her head, Reneé pushed open the door to find Y/N sitting on the bed, her expression stony and unreadable.

Reneé tried to mask her disappointment as she crossed the room to the closet, her fingers trailing over the fabric of her dresses as she searched for the perfect outfit.

Y/N remained silent as Reneé changed into a cute dress, her eyes fixed on some distant point beyond the confines of the bedroom walls.

Once they were both dressed and ready, Reneé made her way to the kitchen where she had already prepared dinner, the savory aroma of her cooking filling the apartment with a tantalizing scent.

As Reneé set the table with meticulous care, she couldn't shake the feeling of unease that settled in the pit of her stomach. She knew that Evan's arrival would only serve to further exacerbate the tension between her and Y/N, but she had made a commitment and she intended to see it through.

Just as Reneé finished setting the table, there came a knock at the front door, the sound echoing through the apartment like a harbinger of impending doom.

Reneé shot Y/N a warning glance as she made her way to the door, silently urging her to behave herself in front of their guest.

Y/N rolled her eyes in response, her expression a mask of indifference as she reluctantly followed Reneé to the living room.

With a deep breath, Reneé opened the door to reveal Evan standing on the threshold, his smile charming and disarming in equal measure.

"Hey, Reneé! Thanks for inviting me over," Evan said, his eyes lingering on Reneé in a way that made Y/N's blood boil.

Reneé returned his smile, though her own unease was apparent in the tightness of her expression. "Of course, Evan. Come on in."

As Evan entered the apartment, Y/N forced herself to plaster on a fake smile, her teeth gritted in a silent display of restraint.

Reneé led Evan to the dining table, where he took his seat with a flourish, his eyes never leaving Reneé's form as she bustled about the kitchen, fetching plates and serving dishes with practiced ease.

Y/N busied herself with pouring wine, her hands trembling slightly as she struggled to maintain her composure in the face of Evan's unwavering gaze.

Throughout the meal, Evan's attention remained firmly fixed on Reneé, his compliments bordering on the excessive as he praised her cooking and commented on how good she looked in her dress.

Y/N seethed with silent rage, her nails digging into the flesh of her palms as she fought to keep her temper in check.

Reneé, for her part, seemed oblivious to the tension that hung thick in the air, her own anger towards Y/N overshadowed by her discomfort at Evan's overt flirtations.

As the evening wore on, Y/N found herself growing more and more agitated, her patience wearing thin as Evan continued to push the boundaries of propriety with his incessant touching and suggestive comments.

Finally, unable to contain her frustration any longer, Y/N rose abruptly from the table, her chair scraping loudly against the hardwood floor as she stormed off towards the bedroom, slamming the door shut behind her with a resounding thud.

Reneé and Evan exchanged awkward glances across the table, the silence that followed deafening in its intensity.

With a heavy sigh, Reneé pushed her plate away, her appetite ruined by the palpable tension that now filled the room.

As she met Evan's gaze, a flicker of uncertainty passed between them, both keenly aware of the rift that had formed between Reneé and Y/N—and the role that Evan had unwittingly played in widening that divide.

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forthechubbies · 4 months

Text

Stowaway°One Piece Drabble I II

Zoro X Chubby!Reader

Your words were stolen from your lips as you were forcefully lifted onto the man's shoulders, your heart pounding with fear as you were carried towards the captain.

Your pathetic attempt seems to have no effect on the wretched creature. "Release me this instant!" "Filthy scum, remove your repulsive hands off me!" His monstrous grip held your feeble legs captive, restricting any chance of escape.

"Captain!" He bellowed, causing everyone to freeze in terror. "Stop!" A fiery lash scorched your backside. "You kick me again, and I swear to God-"

"What's the matter?" Luffy mumbled, his voice heavy with sleep.

"Then what's that slab of meat stuck to your cheek." Usopp murmured out of suspicion from his Captain.

"Ooh, looks like we've got ourselves a little stowaway," He purred, a sly grin spreading across his face. Zoro pulled you close, his strong arms wrapping around your body. "She's an imperial, and she's got the power to bring the whole damn navy down on us." His voice was low and dangerous, sending shivers down your spine.

"Ouch..." you groaned, rolling your eyes at the agony shooting through your wrists from his death grip. "Oh, spare me the drama, darling. I swear, I have zero intentions of harming your precious little boat... or its oh-so-charming crew, especially the lovely brute who seems hell-bent on snapping my wrists like twigs." You emphasized the word "lovely" with a sarcastic smirk, even daring to wriggle free from his clutches.

It wasn't til two girls and a man appeared where things started to get interesting; Nami took the liberty of informing the uneducated of your bloodline...and your wealth.

Nami was the first person to realize the trouble their in. "Zoro, Let her go! Right now!"

"Yea!" Sanji added. " You heard,Nami Swan,Let her go, Block head." Sanji bellowed, unleashing a insult mocking his pathetic excuse for a love life and his habit of manhandling stunning women.

In response, Zoro shot back with a devilish grin, " They can barely catch their breath, let alone complain." His words oozed with a shocking confidence, leaving no doubt about his ability to satisfy any woman lucky enough to cross his path.

The flames of the dispute ignited swiftly, ensnaring you to be caught between two rugged men. They were nothing but wild beasts, you mused, as you pressed yourself closer against Zoro, feeling the intoxicating rush of danger coursing through your veins. The confrontation escalated, teetering on the edge of violence.

You skillfully maneuvered your way out of the treacherous territory, evading the watchful eyes of the two pirates. Just as you were about to catch your breath, a tantalizingly long rubber band coiled around your voluptuous waist, forcefully yanking you towards the captain's commanding presence.

A rapid realization hit you like a ton of bricks. It's his arm!

"Luffy, No!"

"Damn it, Luffy!"

"LUFFY!"

You heard some stuff before bumping into the captain's arms. But Luffy didn't seem to care much - "Are you a real princess?" His eyes twinkled as he hugged your soft toy-like body.

You stood there, utterly astounded by his mind-boggling talent. A gasp escaped your lips, mingling with a sense of horror that coursed through your veins. "What on earth are you?" you whispered, your curiosity piqued to its very limits. And then, with an audacity that defied all reason, you reached out and pinched his cheeks, unraveling his skin stretched like mochi. "Oh my goodness... You're a rubber man?" It seemed utterly and completely... impossible.

Luffy giggled and pulled his arms back to his sides. "Hey, I asked you something first, so you gotta wait for my answer!"

You nervously cleared your trembling throat, a feeble attempt to steady your quivering voice. "Y-yes," you stammered, desperately trying to adjust your disheveled nightgown, hoping to salvage even a shred of regal composure that remained. "Tell me, do you truly bear the mark of a pirate?"

Fearlessly, He smiles. "I'm gonna be the pirate king."

Of course , you don't believe him but that light in his eyes showed his determination.

Pirates are real? The maids often would fill your brain with these nightmare inducing stories of cut throat pirates slaughtering anyone in their way.

Trembling with terror, you couldn't bear to stay put any longer. Without a second thought, you darted further into the ship, seeking refuge behind a sturdy, locked wooden door.

#roronoa zoro x reader #zoro x reader #one piece zoro #zoro x you #zoro x chubby reader #one piece x reader #one piece x chubby reader #one piece #one piece x y/n

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thalialunacy · 18 days

Text

[for the @calaisreno Prompts May-hem (get it?!); cw for more violence than I usually do, ymmv. Also I have a feeling this one shows my American-ness more than most, so uh, sorry? ^^;]

(1) (2) (3) (4) (5) (6) (7) (8) (9) (10) (11) (12) (13) (14) 15: nightmare (16) (17)

'This,' John mutters to himself as he eyes the flashing red on the departures board, 'is a bloody nightmare.'

Sherlock frowns beside him. 'We're being shunted to a less direct route. Inconvenient, but hardly the stuff to disturb one's sleep.'

John closes his eyes momentarily. By and large, he's a good fit for Sherlock's behaviours, even when they're--especially when they're?--somewhat off the beaten path. But sometimes he doesn't have the energy. He just doesn't.

They've been on a literally cold case in Nowhereton, Bumfuckshire, and although the jewellery was found and no one was hurt John could absolutely murder a home-brewed cup of tea. And he would very much like to hold his daughter.

'Don't worry, John, you'll be home to her soon,' Sherlock says to him as they board the overstuffed train. They're not the only ones whose night has been sidetracked, literally, but John's empathy is thin on the ground as he jostles his way to two open seats, fantasising about going for a rugby tackle if someone else gets their first.

Sherlock ends up doing the tackling, though, because he gives not one damn about how train passengers view him. And it's not really a tackle, just a Very Cold Look. And maybe a thrown elbow.

Amused, at least a little, John takes his seat.

They manage to get an hour in before it all goes to hell.

---

The sound of the train car sliding over something besides tracks is the first thing that happens -- and really it's more of a feeling than a sound, somehow.

At first.

'Sherlock,' John says quietly, his stomach twisting. 'What was that?'

'Likely just--'

But Sherlock is interrupted by a great dirty shake, like the train is a snake trying to shed its skin in a big ugly hurry.

'Shit,' John mutters, feeling adrenaline flood his system. 'Hang on to something.'

---

John doesn't wait until the dust clears; he's out of his seat and beating his way through the door at the end of the car the second there's stillness beneath him. Their coach is still on the tracks, but he somehow knows that those ahead of them are not so lucky.

The emergency lights are on, but they're flickering and John has to squint as he makes his way through. His gaze sweeps around and he listens hard, but everyone in the car seems to be suffering from merely shock, bumps and bruises, minor things.

The next car is where shit gets real. The angles are all wrong, and he can see several people tangled in an awful unnatural embrace with metal pieces popped out from seats and side rails.

'Jesus,' he hears himself mutter. 'This is not ideal.'

Sherlock is right behind him, which he'd known but not paid any attention to. 'Triaging a hoard of exhausted people in the middle of the night in the middle of nowhere with no avenues of immediate escalation?'

'Yeah, like I said. Not ideal.'

Sherlock opens his mouth, but John has no time for whatever witticism is about to be gifted upon the world, so he steps away from the detective and further into the chaos.

He raises his voice, but tries to keep it calm. 'Hello, everyone. My name is John, I'm a medical doctor, and I'm here to help.'

---

It's a long fucking night. Four dead, a couple dozen injured. One cannot save them all.

---

Hours later, the sun peeking over the horizon and Molly sacked out on the couch, he's about to pivot onto the staircase to his room when Sherlock puts a hand on his elbow. 'Let's wash up first,' he says, voice low and firm. 'Your daughter doesn't need to see you covered in blood, even if it's someone else's.'

'God damn it,' John mutters, knowing Sherlock is right but hating it; his skin itches with the need to see his little girl. 'Fine, but quick-like.'

He sheds his jacket and button down, which had got the brunt of it, on the way to the toilet, then barely looks at himself in the mirror as he runs a flannel over his face and scrubs at his hands. Sherlock is quiet beside him, handing him soap and cloth when needed, without prompting.

John finishes, then looks up at him. 'Aren't you coming?'

Sherlock's face-- well, It does something very complicated before smoothing out into a small smile. 'All right, let's.'

---

Anticlimactically, Rosie barely stirs when John picks her up. His limbs are finally able to shake out the events of the last twelve hours, and he feels Sherlock's arms around him and beneath her like a bridge truss, supporting them both.

John breathes in deeply, taking in the scent of his daughter and his flatmate. His-- his family, he thinks, trying the word out.

'Stay,' he says quietly, not looking away from Rosie. 'Just-- Stay?'

Sherlock hums for a moment, then answers like it was never in question. 'Of course.'

They don't consider pyjamas, instead curling around each other's dusty skin in pants and vests while murmuring about inconsequential things, domestic things that send warmth spiralling through John to replace the chill that had settled in somewhere during the journey they've just finished.

'I do have one question,' Sherlock says finally, the words warming the skin at John's neck.

'Go on.'

'As you know, many common understandings about the English language, particularly when it comes to colloquialisms, are not part of my… erm, base worldview.'

'Right, I am aware.'

'So I'd like to confirm: When you called the train delay a nightmare, you were exaggerating for humour, and when you called the derailment "not ideal," you were…'

John chuckles tiredly. 'Being English.'

'Being facetious.'

'Yes.' He pauses, fingers in Sherlock's mildly tangled hair. 'Sometimes, it's all that gets you from one moment to the next. One body to the next.'

Sherlock murmurs a noise, and John feels his embrace tighten.

'Well,' the detective finally says, voice deep and sleepy. 'Besides all that, I really must say that watching you in action was quite... informative.'

'Oh? In what way?'

'Informing me that I find your medical competency viscerally pleasing.'

John huffs a surprised breath. 'Yeah?'

'Mm-hmm. You're very good, and it's very attractive.'

'Noted,' John murmurs, eyes closed. 'Next time.'

'Mm-hmm.' Sherlock's palm is warm on his solar plexus, and John doesn't think twice as he succumbs to a deep, quiet sleep.

[❤️]

[a/n- I have not been in a derailment, but I have been in a train car when it ran over a live human being going 70mph, so forgive me for not being keen to research the former for the sake of accuracy.]

ETA OH GOD I forgot the best part! My inspiration for this piece:

#BBC Sherlock #May Prompts 2024 #mayprompts2024 #It's gonna be MAY 2024 #kind of a downer despite starting as a funny tweet #Very British Problems

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aectpen · 8 months

Text

3 of Us - poly!haobin x reader

m.list

pairing: haobin x reader

genre: angst with happy ending

synopsis: hanbin and hao have a fight that leaves you in the middle

words: .9k

You stared up at the ceiling. Sandwiched between Hanbin and Hao, unable to toss and turn, you found yourself incapable of even catching a wink of rest. Their backs were turned away, oblivious to your restless night.

Earlier that evening, Hanbin and Hao engaged in a heated argument sparked by Hao's perceived "flirting" with an old friend at the market. Hanbin's reaction stemmed from his deep affection for you; he became upset with Hao for appearing excessively friendly towards the girl in your presence. It's true that you experienced a twinge of jealousy, with a tightness in your chest as you observed the way Hao tilted his head and smiled at her—the same way he usually did with you.

Despite all of that, you hesitated to bring it up. After all, he isn’t in contact with her, so why harbor any resentment? However, even though you mentally decided to let it go, your feelings manifested in your expressions and actions. Throughout the rest of the day, a subtle pout lingered on your face, and when Hao inquired about something, your responses were brief. Hanbin took note of all of this, but didn’t want to make a scene.

The moment the three of you reached home, Hanbin immediately pounced on the opportunity to call him out.

“So you’re just gonna act oblivious?” Hanbin raised his voice. Hao only laughed, thinking Hanbin was joking. “That girl. You were so obvious!”

You stayed silent, not wanting to start a fight, nor participate in one.

“She was just a friend that I hadn’t seen in a while.” Hao explained, raising his hands.

“The way you were acting. It was just disrespectful. Do you not notice when y/n is upset about stuff like this?” Tears welled in your eyes. You dreaded sparking a conflict between them, silently praying that Hanbin wouldn't address the underlying reason for your uncharacteristic behavior, devoid of your usual affectionate demeanor.

“Why do you always have to speak for her? Do you enjoy causing problems?” That's when it escalated beyond its initial scope. When you resort to a personal jab, you lose sight of the main issue and attempt to deliver an even more hurtful blow.

The remark ignited a shouting match between the two, spiraling into a confrontation where the original cause of their disagreement became unclear. Anger clouded their judgment, rendering the argument directionless. Despite your plea for them to stop, they remained deaf to reason. Their conflicts were infrequent, only arising from trivial matters.

You just wanted it to end. Even if Hao’s actions hurt your feelings, you knew he didn’t have malicious intent. He was just a friendly person. You also know Hanbin only came at him because of his love for you. He couldn’t stand to see you upset without an apology.

The remainder of the night unfolded in silence. Not a word was spoken. Tension hung thick in the air, palpable enough to be sliced with a knife. The anger was so intense that neither of them could bring themselves to talk to you. Each person carried out their nightly routine in solitude.

None of you were angry enough to sleep separately. You thought about it, but neither of them raised the idea. Hanbin went to sleep first, followed by you, then Hao. They slept on their sides, both facing away from you.

Sleep eluded you as you dwelled on the unfolding events. You beat yourself up for allowing them to sleep harboring anger. You played out alternate scenarios in your mind, envisioning a timeline where you intervened promptly, and everyone went to sleep in a comforting embrace. Yet, even in that hypothetical situation, you couldn't escape the possibility of making Hanbin feel guilty for defending you.

You tuned into the gentle rhythm of their breathing, observing the subtle rise and fall of their shoulders. Thoughts of the morning ahead invaded your mind, anticipating the impending silence. The last thing you wished for was them waking up with furrowed brows and lingering pouts.

The echo of their hurtful words played on a loop in your mind. You couldn't shake off the realization that your own jealousy had fueled the current situation. A quiet sniffle escaped you as tears traced a path down the side of your face, dampening your pillow.

The supposedly hushed sniffles didn't escape Hanbin's notice. He shifted to face you. "Trouble sleeping?"

Turning toward him, he glimpsed your slightly puffy eyes and pursed lips, prompting him to tenderly touch your cheek. "Is this about us? God, I'm so sorry, y/n."

"No need to apologize. It's my fault it happened in the first place," you self-criticized.

"It's not," he insisted, shaking his head vigorously. "Things got out of hand. At this point, it's nobody's fault."

“I just want it to be over. I don’t want anyone to be mad.” You held on to his hand.

Both of you directed your attention to Hao, who was now propped up on both elbows.

“I’m sorry. I was being dismissive and mean.” He leaned towards you.

“I’m sorry for not listening to you and being mean too.” Hanbin returned the apology.

“Now kith,” you said, earning a laugh from the both of them.

Hanbin positioned himself between the two of you, encircling his arms around you both, drawing you closer. You and Hao intertwine your hands over Hao’s chest, blowing air kisses at each other. The three of you drifted off to sleep, accompanied by a harmonious chorus of soft snores, just as it was meant to be.

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lovelyyandereaddictionpoint · 1 year

Note

Ask!

See yandere beelzebub thinks his s/o is too weak and s/o don't eat a lot

So he makes them eat a lot, he thinks s/o is lying to him "how come you're already full you ate so little... Here I'll give you my food, make sure you eat all of it" s/o would most likely be sick from beelzebub giving them too much

You Need To Eat | Yandere Beelzebub

It becomes a suffocating and escalating struggle

First its something minor

“(Y/n) did you eat lunch today?”

“Oh uh not yet. But I will soon though.”

“Oh ok.”

Then it inches a little

Him making the generous decision to give you a tiny piece of his pile after looking at your little lunch dish

Belphegor immediately knows what he’s thinking and will try to advise him not to do that

Beel decides that Belphie doesn’t know what he’s talking about because he’s usually sleeping when you’re eating

NevermindthatBeelisn’tevenwithyoueverysecondofthedayalso

And then he gives warnings

“(Y/n)! You are eating that…only that? That’s hardly a meal…do you want me to cook for you?”

“That portion is hardly enough to feed mini-devil, have this.”

That best be straightened out before it gets out of control

Sit him down and explain your difference in species

Because otherwise life’s going to get a lot harder

He follows you more than usual

Which begins to feel suffocating

And whenever his stomach starts to growl he drags you away to eat something

As if your stomach growled too+=

He stuffs you full

With food

Purposefully doing so until you're bloated and slipping into a food coma

Now this could go one of two ways~

He could either actually listen to Belphie and leave it at that

Or he will continue until you start throwing up

When that happens he

….actually pulls back

Many twisted demons would think that throwing up is a sign of you purposefully avoiding eating

But Beels not like that

When he sees your eyes cloud over in dread as you painfully clutch your stomach

He realizes he’s done something wrong

And he’s really really really sorry

Now whether he triggered something or gave you something new

Food doesn’t have the same shine

And he hates that

Now more than ever he wants to make sure your eating

Even if its a small amount

He will not let you starve

And he will not let you forget that you need food

From now on he fights just about anyone who has something to say about what you eat

Because you're his fragile human and he has to protect you

From everyone else and maybe a little bit of yourself

#yandere beelzebub #yandere obey me #yandere obey me shall we date #yandere obey me x reader #yandere obey me: one master to rule them all #yandere obey me beelzebub #yandere beel #yandere x reader #yandere demon #yandere

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ittybluebell · 3 months

Text

Roommate | Daredevil G/T | Chapter 1

AO3

Matt Murdock didn't have anything against mice. He'd never been personally harrassed by one, but he understood the need to get rid of them. One easily turned into a dozen and with all the mess and digging into food, eviction was necessary. Despite how many rodents he heard daily, it wasn't something he thought about. The only reason mice were on his mind now was because one had moved into the floor, and he could hear it moving around as he laid in bed.

Now, like he said, Matt didn't have anything against mice.

Scrtch-scrtch-tick.

This one, however, was pushing its luck.

It showed up one night, moving in when he was out vigilante-ing and he only noticed the next day. At first, he didn't care. It was alone and hadn't yet realized there was food in his apartment. He had other, more pressing issues than a single mouse. It was a benign little thing - hardly a problem. Most nights, he could ignore the pitter-pattering and scraping or put in his noise-canceling earbuds.

Tonight, the mouse was too loud for earbuds. As he tossed and turned, Matt fumed, wondering what that rodent could possibly be up to. Rearranging furniture? Fuck, it sounded like it. Little mouse furniture.

Enough was enough. Matt threw a pillow at the floor and told the thing to shut up. To his surprise, it did. Matt sighed and finally went to sleep.

From that night on, he noticed a drastic decline in his downstairs neighbor's noise pollution.

How silly it was, Matt thought during a good mood, holding a grudge toward an animal. Especially one that was polite enough to let him sleep in peace.

Oh, how naïve he was.

The mouse quickly reinstated its grudge status when Matt noticed things going missing. It started with the bagels - a hole in the bag he noticed because the scent of bagel was particularly strong. Upon investigation, he discovered there was a complete lack of crumbs. And a chunk discreetly chewed from the middle. From there, things escalated. He smelled the shift in the air, smelled the remnants of another living being in his apartment. Little objects went missing - things even a seeing person might miss. But not Matt Murdock.

The sock was the last straw.

"What's the best bait for mouse traps?" Matt asked as soon as he entered the office.

"Cheese?" Foggy answered, confused. "Why? Do you have mice?"

"One. One mouse."

"How d- nevermind. Let me guess - you can't sleep."

"It's taking my stuff."

Foggy laughed. Karen huffed.

"At least tell me you're using non-lethal," said Karen. Upon his silence, she aww'd sadly. "Matt, no. It's just a mouse. You can't kill it."

"They're pests," said Foggy.

"But they're so cute. It just wants a place to live."

"Karen-" started Matt.

"No, no, she's got a point." Foggy spun his chair around. "Matt, you can't kill it! So cute and fuzzy!"

The lawyer-by-day, vigilante-by-night groaned. "Fine, I won't. Just stop looking at me like that."

"Like what?"

"Foggy, I can feel your eyes fake-tearing up."

Matt bought some glue traps and baited them with peanut butter. When Karen told him glue traps were worse - "They're so inhumane, Matt!" - he assured her that he'd know when the mouse got stuck; it wouldn't suffer. As much as the thing annoyed him, Karen was right: he wasn't going to abandon his no-killing rule for one mouse. (One mouse that must have a vendetta against him. He would not stoop to its level.) What kind of hypocrite would he be, huh?

The traps were set. Now to wait.

And wait.

A week passed. No mouse was caught. When he listened to its movement, he realized it was avoiding the spots he'd trapped. Avoiding the usual routes.

Smart. For a rodent. But Matt was smarter.

More traps, different bait. Traps disguised as the food and objects he'd noticed go missing, even the mate to his missing sock. It couldn't resist now.

Days passed.

Evidently, it could resist.

Foggy teased him about being outsmarted by an animal. Karen was on the mouse's side. Somebody must've told Jessica because he got a condescending text offering her services. Traitors, every one of them.

It all came to a head one terrible Friday night. Matt was already in a bad mood when he got home from work but going out, hearing and feeling New York City, pushed him over the edge. He was annoyed, his brain was overstimulated, and he just wanted to rest. The rooftop access door shut behind him and he threw his helmet into its trunk, about to shed the rest when the distinct sound of scratching and plastic crinkling in the kitchen cupboard caught his ear.

Matt stilled. It was here.

He marched with purpose toward the sounds.

That little bastard wasn't getting away this time. Catching it would be a satisfying end to a crappy day.

The mouse started fleeing before he was even close. It was headed for the other end of the cupboards - a hole in the floor Matt wasn't aware of but now could sense the air flowing from within. He'd have to seal that in the mor-

Mice didn't run on two legs.

Matt cocked his head, listening to the pattern of footfalls. He'd never cared to pay attention, but now it was impossible to miss. He knew what scurrying rodents sounded like. Whatever was in his kitchen, it was no rodent. It was bipedal. A bird? No, not with that speed. Not with that gait. He needed a closer examination.

Matt threw open the cupboard door. The first thing to hit his senses was the scent of corn chips.

The second was the heartbeat.

The creature's heart pounded swiftly in its chest. Air rushed from a mouth that was too upright for any kind of animal, a nose too humanlike. Small shoes hit the baseboard as it ran. Fabric rustled the same way he heard every single day in the street - like clothing.

Matt got lower, needing to be closer, needing to examine this little anomaly. How it moved, how it sounded, how uncannily familiar it was.

The living shape that his senses created was so alike to people that he was too shocked to outwardly react.

The little thing escaped into the floor, and Matt Murdock was left crouching there. Slowly, he shut the door. He took off the suit, dressed his wounds, and went to bed, his mind racing.

His body was exhausted, but he couldn't sleep. Not when he was tracking the creature's movements. Every scrape, every soft thud of a step, the whisper-

Whispering?

"You're fine. He didn't see you. There's no way…"

Whispering. Okay.

Matt pretended he didn't hear anything and put in his earbuds. That was a tomorrow-Matt problem.

Unfortunately for tomorrow-Matt, another problem knocked on his door first. That problem rhymed with Stank Hassle and didn't like to be ignored. Frank did offer coffee when they left so at least it wasn't a total bust. It was a good opportunity to get Matt out of his head; to get a clear perspective of the night before. Matt decided he was exhausted and hallucinating. The alternative was a tiny person living in the walls of his apartment. Delusion was easier.

Delusion was also what kept the borrower from abandoning the apartment altogether.

Call them stubborn, or stupid, but Finch didn't want to leave. Borrowers could only get so lucky. Landing a decent apartment with an oblivious bean was a rare opportunity, and Finch had no intention of giving it up. They would use this good fortune. Even if they didn't deserve it.

Finch shook off the guilt following that thought.

They spent the first week setting up: finding a place to sleep and tidying it up, living off the rations they packed. They got a lay of the land, surveying the apartment and its infrastructure. The excessively bright billboard directly in front of the living room window, the kitchen, and - most importantly - the bean. Light - or lack thereof - was never an issue for him. Not once did he flip a switch or so much as use his phone, which read texts aloud to him. He hardly looked at whatever claimed his attention. Everything added up to limited vision, but they couldn't be sure. It was safest not to risk any assumptions.

Evidence pointed to some damn good hearing when Finch was carving planks of wood out of the floor's innards. They were minding their own business, content with their repetitive, calming task, when something large and loud impacted the ceiling a dozen paces away.

The borrower nearly jumped out of their overalls, giving a startled squeak.

"Shut up," yelled the muffled voice above.

Pretending their soul wasn't just violently expelled from their body, Finch smoothed down their curly brown hair and exhaled shakily, making a mental note to postpone noisy work till the bean was away.

And they did good on that: when the bean was home, Finch completed the quieter, slower tasks. They thought they'd discovered the formula for living under the radar, satisfied to have found a routine that worked.

Then the traps appeared. Finch cursed their luck. The jig was up. The bean set up gross glue traps in outer access points, a couple even getting to the paths Finch took. Finch avoided them and laid low for a bit, hoping the lack of activity would convince the bean they'd skipped town. But more traps appeared. Smart ones, too - they almost fell for a couple. Now, Finch knew a thing or two about a thing or two. They made new routes and took extra care when borrowing. They even started mapping paths to the apartments below. Despite their small stature, Finch had a lot of room for determination. After a life of sticking their hand in the fire, they learned to take the heat. If the bean wanted them gone, he'd have to try a lot harder.

Night fell. The bean was gone. He followed routines - ones he scarcely strayed from. It would be hours before his return.

Finch made their way to the kitchen. They pushed up the trapdoor and strolled through the cupboard. They still had to be careful: just because the human wasn't home didn't mean they could throw all caution to the wind. Leaving evidence was a massive negatory. Finch didn't care for stupid rules, but the rules of borrowing were locked in their brain. They were already careless with the bagels, something they couldn't afford again. Desperation wasn't an excuse for sloppy borrowing - not when it exposed them.

Finch observed the boxes and containers around them, reading labels and calculating risk and reward. There was no chance of getting into that cereal box, but the nutrition bars would be a good grab. The box was short and already open. Finch pushed a can of tuna against it and hopped on. They began extracting a bar only to realize they had no way of getting something so large home without a sled.

"No, that'd be too easy." With a huff, Finch dropped it and shoved the can back into place. "'cause food can never be-" plastic crinkled under their foot "-easy?" Finch inspected the blue packaging. It was an open bag of tortilla chips. They grinned.

The scent of corn chips filled the space as Finch unfurled the bag. They dropped their backpack and started breaking the triangular chips into smaller pieces. Salt-free, too? Hell, yes. They tested the backpack's weight, put a bit more inside, then pulled the strings tight. They slung the strap across their chest. Oh, yeah, this would last them a good while. Finch fought with the chip bag, trying to roll the top underneath like it was before.

"Come on. Stupid fuckin'-" They tried to simultaneously lift the heavy bag and pull the other end.

Over the sounds of plastic popping and crackling in their ears, Finch didn't hear a door open and shut.

DOOM.

They did, however…

DOOM.

…feel the approaching footsteps of the human bean.

Finch froze. Blue eyes snapped wide open, their head flinching away from the plastic. It couldn't be...

Finch bolted.

He's supposed to be out why is he back-

DOOM.

They didn't need to know why he was back - just that he was and he was approaching at an alarming rate.

DOOM.

Oh, fuck, that's actually really close-

The doors ripped open. The hinges didn't even get a chance to squeak.

Finch stumbled. Air caught in their throat. For a moment, Finch was rooted to the floor. Just a moment. Long enough to see the human's form towering beyond the counter, covered in some kind of dark red leather. Long enough to see boots more than capable of squishing the life out of them.

Legs like fenceposts bent as the human came unbelievably closer. Closer than Finch had ever been to a bean. A giant face suspended above them, features blank and expressionless. Not once did the bean look at them.

Finch ran. They didn't look back. When they reached the hole in the floor, they plugged it up and kept going. Keep running.

Only when they reached the safety of their shelter did they falter.

"Oh, shit," they gasped, resting their weight on a nearby post. If their heart didn't outright stop, they were sure it might burst from their ribcage. Finch felt that exploding was a reasonable response. "He didn't see me." The scene replayed in their mind, over and over like a glitched tape. "I'm fine. You're fine. He didn't see you. There's no way he saw you. Just breathe."

Delusion, like they said. It was a powerful thing. It pulled many tricks on the mind. Like convincing oneself that they weren't discovered.

The apartment was quiet. Too quiet, one might even say, if they weren't one Matt Murdock. He never got that phrase. Nothing was 'too quiet'. In his - correct - opinion, nothing was quiet enough. There was always something creaking, breathing, or thumping, even in the smallest hours of the night. But on some front he had to agree: there was a suspicious lack of activity from the critter in the floor lately. Reluctant as he was to admit it, he couldn't deny that it wasn't an animal. Animals didn't mutter to themselves, in full sentences, in English. He wasn't mentally, emotionally, or spiritually prepared to assess beyond whatever that meant. In the moments his mind wandered, however - such as now, sitting and listening to a recording for his current case - he found himself pondering the tiny being regardless.

The peace wasn't an accident. Finch had been avoiding that place, giving themself and the air time to settle. They continued work on their residence, slotting together panels of wood and cardboard to form walls. One room would do for now - they just needed protection from the elements and potential scavengers slinking around. Skies above, if a cockroach tried anything, it was next on the menu. Grind up the little fucker into a smoothie. Finch wished a bug would: it'd be miles better than those godforsaken tortilla chips. Finch gave the wood posts they'd just secured a good push, nodding in satisfaction and moving on to the wall. It would be the last one to seal up their box of a house.

Four days. It'd been four days since Finch was nearly discovered; four days since they stared a bean in the face and got away unscathed. Four days since they got an answer to what they'd only suspected: the human couldn't see. That explained the brilliantly bright billboard, the sensitive hearing, the lack of lights - it explained a lot. Finch had to re-evaluate their approach to borrowing. This human would be extra careful about his possessions - the sock was proof enough - and notice what was out of place. In some ways, this both simplified and complicated things.

But borrowers were nothing if not adaptable.

Finch ventured up to a peephole in the wall and looked out. Nothing had changed except the bean now sitting at the dining table, papers and an electronic box neatly laid out on the tabletop. Casually dressed, he was listening to… a podcast? No, too personal. Finch liked podcasts. There was a crime involved, but this sounded like a conversation Finch would overhear more than something designed to entertain. So this bean worked in solving crimes. A detective?

They listened to the dry as hell audio a scant longer before growing bored and moving on. Hey, at least the bean was preoccupied.

Naturally, they found themself puttering toward the kitchen. Wielding two bent nails tied to their belt, Finch climbed up the cupboard door, using hinges and decorative bevels alike to hoist themself up. Those bagels were good. Were there any left? Nothing but corn chips really wore down a person's capacity to give a damn. They perused the counter, confident that the bean was sufficiently distracted by his work. Finch was disappointed to find the bagels sealed in an airtight container. It was their own fault, slicing up the bag so messily. They pulled a face and resumed their search.

A plate of mostly-eaten pasta sat before them. Fuck yes! Finch scuttled to it, pulling out rolls of tinfoil from their bag. Careful to avoid crinkling, they gathered up all the leftover noodles and sauce that would fit.

Finch squirreled away their haul, licking their fingers clean of evidence and ignorant of the man listening to their heist just a few metres away.

Matt stopped paying attention to the tape some time ago.

The sounds of Hell's Kitchen couldn't drown out the little inhabitant in his walls. A scent had blown into the room, vaguely familiar with hints of tortilla chip. He sat straighter and listened, idly shuffling papers and tip-tapping his fingers on the table. He found himself unable to be anything other than impressed as they scaled his counter like a mountain climber. Whatever was left from dinner became his visitor's latest plunder. That was fine; less waste, right?

He was disappointed when they returned to the walls. He wound back the recording to get some work done, but found himself consistently distracted by his small neighbour's goings-on. This discovery was just so unique, so strange - how could he not be curious? He heard them venture out again, across the apartment now. Into his bedroom. What could they be doing?

Oho, if Matt found any more socks missing-

He turned in his seat, about to rise, when he heard:

"You hafta to be shittin' me."

The voice, quiet in size only and bold beyond that, was the mildly annoyed tone of someone who'd been inconvenienced. Matt had heard it before, in the late hush of the night, when no one else would. Muttered curses and remarks that blended into the creaking and groaning of buildings and chatter and sirens of the city. One voice that Matt Murdock had tried very hard not to think too much about.

"When is enough too much, huh?" the voice griped. "Does he think I'm just gonna lay on one? 'Oh, felt silly today, stepped on the massive rug of glue.' How 'bout I drag this onto your floor, see how you feel walkin' in a minefield?" They growled. "UGH. Beans."

Well.

There was no denying it anymore, was there? A tiny person was living in the walls of Matt's apartment.

Matt leaned back, processing. He'd tried ignoring it - for the sake of his mental health and faith - because it was insane. It was impossible. It shouldn't be.

And yet…

Matt wanted - needed - to investigate further.

He got up, quietly, light on his feet. He didn't make it two steps before he heard a swear and the tiny person retreated once more. Into an electrical outlet, by the sounds of it.

Hm. He couldn't sneak up on them - not this time. They heard him- no. Matt quirked his head, considering. They felt him approaching. Like Matt, they could feel vibrations. Vibrations that alerted them of a threat. It only made sense.

Heh, 'threat'. Regular ol' Matt Murdock was the threat this time, not his alter ego. Wasn't that something?

The next time Matt encountered his new neighbour, he was trying - and failing - to fall asleep. There was too much on his mind for sleep. Frustrated, he huffed and flopped over, restless, his thoughts racing. Sounds of the city were extra distracting tonight. He considered getting up and making a cup of tea - maybe that would calm his mind.

Noises from the kitchen drew his scattered focus. He sat up, listening to the scuffing and tapping that he'd come to recognize as his uninvited houseguest. Three visits in one day. Were they always this proactive? Well, he did interrupt their attempted heist of his bedroom. Matt scooted to the edge of the bed. He would make that tea, actually. As he stood, he remembered sneaking didn't work last time. Right. Heavy-footed. However, he had a hunch that this attempt would yield a sneakier result.

Aided by socks, Matt softly padded through his apartment. Tiny - the name he assigned his little visitor - was fiddling with some kind of packaging on the top shelf. And as he got closer, lo and behold, they did not startle. His theory was correct: the further Tiny was from the floor, the weaker their pallesthesia became. Their ability to detect vibrations just wasn’t as sensitive as his own. Once he stepped foot into the kitchen, Matt dropped the Daredevil act and let himself be known. He grabbed a mug and turned on the kettle. Tiny's pulse quickened; their breath hitched. He gave them time to hide before he opened the cupboard for a tea bag. He quickly realized the box wasn't in its usual spot - his own doing, unfortunately.

"Stupid tea bags," he muttered for Tiny's sake; an 'I'm not looking for you, I swear!' assurance as he searched the cabinets. For extra sauce, he added, "Always misplacing them."

Would he forgo tea? He did start the kettle… as much as he got a kick out of playing the part of oblivious blind guy, causing Tiny undue terror wasn't his end goal. He wanted to test them, their cockiness, not scare them. Tiny may be a thief, but they were just trying to survive. Why else was food their number one haul? Matt dedicated his life to helping people in need. Wasn't Tiny part of that demographic? Weren't they someone in need? Unless small people were running drug cartels and trafficking rings, Tiny was innocent.

Doubt and guilt crept in. Maybe he was pushing the bit too far.

Matt was just about to get up and leave when something square and coarse pressed into his fingers.

He faltered, then pinched it, rubbing his thumb over the material. Its strong, earthy scent gave it away.

A tea bag.

Small shoes lightly retreated. Matt withdrew his hand. He held the sachet of dried herbs, cogs turning in his mind. He tilted his head.

Tiny handed him a tea bag. That…

Matt found himself puzzled and oddly touched. It was for their own good, to avoid getting found, but he couldn't not appreciate the nice gesture. He easily smelt where the tea was, of course. But Tiny didn't know that. Huh.

Maybe he was being too harsh about the sock.

The kettle's bubbling pitch rose to a squeal. Wincing, Matt shut it off. He dropped the tea bag into the mug and poured steaming water over it.

What a strange experience. He wondered what Tiny was thinking. Their heartbeat eased into the fluttering pace that he learned was its resting rate. It was the trait that had him most convinced his roommate was a rodent of some sort, though the way they squeaked when startled was a close second.

Matt threw out the tea bag and took the mug to his room, leaving Tiny to their task.

The next day, he casually slipped questions about tiny people into a conversation with Foggy. (It was not casual and quite random, actually.)

"You mean, like… fairies?" Foggy cautiously asked.

Sort of? Matt didn't know whether Tiny could be considered a fairy. They certainly didn't seem like the fairy type, not with the kind of language he heard them utter. Did fairies say 'fuck'? Would that break some kind of fairy law?

Karen told him about a book series that she'd been obsessed with as a kid: it contained many smaller magical beings. Brownies, for instance. Matt settled on definitely not that one. What favours was he receiving? Aside from the tea bag - an isolated incident - absolutely none.

Matt wasn't convinced they were a magical creature. Really, they just… seemed like a normal person, albeit smaller. They hummed to themself, snickered at their own dumb jokes, and swore a hot streak that would impress even Castle and Jones. Matt was pretty damn sure they'd been building a house under his floor, though he noticed all the loud busywork was put on pause when he was home, most notably when he was sleeping. Another nice gesture that was also for their own self-preservation.

Maybe they were a mutant. Or maybe they were mutated, like him.

When Matt got home, he discarded the glue traps. It felt wrong to leave them now that he knew it was a person he'd been trying to catch. Guilty, he started leaving crumbs in easy-to-reach locations. It wouldn’t hurt him any - his grocery budget wasn’t gonna tank because of some scraps. If chips and leftovers were what they were after, then they had free reign over the countertop. That didn’t stop him from being cheeky about it, though - if Tiny was getting confident, he might as well play along.

He found Tiny’s courage something to marvel at. Roaming a giant’s home? Without fear? His vigilante persona was literally named Daredevil and he was impressed.

However, bravery and foolishness were not mutually exclusive. That’s when the cockiness came in.

Matt was minding his business, washing the dishes, when Tiny wandered out. Brows hitching up, he continued sponging the plate. Surely, they wouldn't-

Oh, but they did.

Unwavering, Tiny climbed up the counter they same way as before. They walked up to the pan on the stove and hooked a leg over. Matt fought hard not to chuffle. This was getting out of hand. Matt remembered an adage about not feeding animals or else they'd grow dependent. Had Matt inadvertently done exactly that? Animals that were accustomed to people often didn't see the danger. Tiny was certainly no animal, but the absence of caution they displayed in the moment was, frankly, ridiculous. It was a massive leap from the times they would flee his presence. He was starting to think he'd played too ignorant.

A smirk tugged at his lips upon hearing the leftover eggs being pilfered. When he turned to fetch the pan, Tiny was already hopping to the floor and disappearing behind the fridge.

Stealing right behind his back. When was enough too much, indeed.

AO3

#g/t #giant/tiny #goldfinch (oc)#matt murdock #daredevil g/t #giant tiny #the borrowers #borrowers #g/t community #gt #g/t writing #daredevil #marvel g/t #marvel #marvel fanfiction #mcu fanfiction #daredevil fanfiction

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callsign-rogueone · 3 months

Text

intimacy alphabet - a.g.

Aaric Graycastle x gn!reader

The A to Z’s of sleeping with Aaric. (anybody remember this template from back in the day? if you do, it’s time to open a retirement account.)

words: 1.4k

🏷: NSFW. no real plot spoilers, just some stuff about Aaric, so if you haven’t met him yet, maybe skip this one and come back later lol. anyway, this is just a bunch of sexy headcanons about our sweet prince. mentions of penetrative sex, oral, and fingering, (all reader receiving) but I made it gender neutral.

I did this for research and development for his upcoming girlfriendverse fic (which I am writing completely out of order, of course), but I figured I’d give it to y’all as an apology / peace offering because I haven’t been feeding you much lately. enjoy! :)

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

ever the gentleman; cleans you both up and makes sure that you’re okay, gives you soft praise. very nice to cuddle with; he’s content to let you use him like a body pillow and just wrap yourself around him and fall asleep.

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

he likes his own build; he’s tall (as tall as Xaden, I believe) and pretty well-muscled from all of his intense training over the years. he likes the softer parts of you that he can press his fingers into, likes the feeling of your bare skin under his hands.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

standard stuff. will cum where you tell him to, no strong feelings about it. he’s a very clean guy, so he’ll wipe it up quickly after.

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

thinking about his biggest secret of all… if you happen to let out a soft “oh, fuck, Cam,” when he’s buried deep inside you, he might stop being so gentle. but a truly dirty secret? hm… I’ll have to get back to you on that one.

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

look me in the eye and tell me that the rebellious youngest prince of the Navarrian royal family hasn’t been around the block a bit. he’s had people falling at his feet for years because of his status.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

fond of missionary, you riding him, or anything where he can see your face and the cute little expressions you make when he’s making you feel good (and have you look into those gorgeous green eyes of his while he takes you apart. he’s very much into eye contact.)

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

he does not strike me as a “funny guy”. he’s pretty serious, but will laugh with you about small things like if you accidentally bump heads when changing positions, etc. (then he’ll kiss it better and go back to business as usual)

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

he keeps his face clean-shaven, so he’s probably doing some maintenance downstairs, too. he’s a very neat and tidy guy.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

pretty romantic, but not like, trail-of-rose-petals type romantic. just a lot of eye contact, soft praise, and definitely some “I love you’s” later on in the relationship. I don’t see him as a casual sex guy — I think he’s done with that phase of his life and he’d rather pick one person and love them with his whole heart.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

I don’t think he takes matters into his own hands very often. he doesn’t strike me as a very horny guy, and it’s hard to find the time and space to crank one out when you’re living in college dorms with a roommate (and trying not to die all the time). he much prefers to do things with you instead, anyway.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

some things I’ve mentioned already; praise, eye contact, you saying his name… idk if its a kink per se, but he wants to hear you. he loves all the soft sounds you make when you’re needy (being vocal during a makeout session is almost sure to escalate things). he gets off on getting you off, and it gives his ego a boost to know he’s making you feel so good that you can’t form words, just pretty little moans and whimpers.

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

his room or yours, that's it. he’s not an exhibitionist; he values his reputation, and doesn’t want to get either of you into trouble. you might be able to convince him to mess around in the shower before / after the main event, but that’s about it.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

you, and the fact that you’re his. I know that feels like a cop-out answer, but it’s true. he’ll look over and see you in his bed in the morning, the early sunlight warming your skin, and he's ready to go.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

I absolutely cannot see him wanting to be called by his title, etc. nope. no way. he despises it, and he also wants to know that you love him for him, and not his status. he also doesn’t want to hurt you during sex — there’s enough pain in your lives already. when that door closes behind you, it's only soft touches and gentle pleasure.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

he had done more receiving than giving until he met you. he learned what you like (and how much he likes giving it to you) very quickly and now he won’t hesitate to get on his knees for you, especially if you ask nicely. he likes to use his mouth and hands at the same time for maximum effect. he’ll never decline head from you either, but it doesn’t happen often; he’s more focused on you.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

he fucks like a prince: proper. usually nice and deep and slow, taking his time with you and making you feel every movement. on occasion, if you rile him up enough or piss him off, he might give it to you (see also: make you take it) a little rougher.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

see above. has only happened once, and it kinda backfired (you ended up being late to formation and getting bitched at by the wingleader). now he won’t try anything unless he has at least an hour alone with you (enough for proper foreplay and some aftercare.)

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

the two of you will experiment a little bit, mostly with new movements, etc., but you keep things pretty simple. if it ain’t broke… (and it certainly isn’t).

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

your record is three rounds in one night, four if you count the morning after. you haven’t really had the time to try and beat it; school and training takes a lot out of you, and you’d simply rather sleep sometimes — but you’re both content to keep things at one round most nights, or just cuddle instead.

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

I don’t see him owning or using toys (though it remains unclear what options they have in this universe). after he manifests a signet, that might come into play depending on what it is, but for now he feels like he has plenty of options already (his fingers, tongue…)

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

he’s not a huge tease, but will make you ask for nearly everything with words, even if it's embarrassing to you, but he wants to know that you truly want this, and he finds it so cute to hear you beg for him and only him.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

he’s a talker, telling you how good you feel around him, how pretty you look under him, etc. sound-wise, if he’s in control, you’ll just get the occasional soft gasp / panting. if you’re in control, you might hear some whimpering… either way, he sounds so pretty. you should tell him that, and see what happens (the praise kink goes both ways.)

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

he only saw sex as a way to fulfill a biological need until he met you, and realized it could be so much more — he’s never truly loved any of his hookup partners. definitely some things he had to unpack there after your first time.

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

he’s tall, and pretty lean… the laws of nature dictate that he’s hung. I don’t make the rules.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

not super high, but he usually rolls with you — if you’re down, he’s down. simple as that.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

he can’t fall asleep until you do, but that usually isn’t a problem; he’ll tire you out / relax you real nice every time. A+ cuddler, as we discussed earlier.

there you have it 🤷🏻‍♀️

I’m very excited for y’all to meet Aaric and Sunny. two sneak peeks posted so far + a few thousand more words in my docs, hehe

#aaric graycastle #Aaric graycastle x reader #preemptively tagging this as #Aaric and Sunny #fourth wing #fourth wing x reader #fourth wing smut #mine #18+#once again posting from my phone and I’ll reformat later (maybe)

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modelbus · 6 months

Note

YOOOO MODDLEE

yeah I did it again.

(Help I have a problem of disappearing into thin air)

THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR PART THREE OF CUT CHAOS SHEBSJNSUH

you said you would write 500 chapters.. but like obviously exaggerating..? (Kiddinggg)

tho a few more couldn’t hurt..

juuuust saying if you ever feel like it I will eventually see it and it will eventually make my week. <3333

BUT THATS NOT WHY WE ARE HERE! (I’m sorry my requests are always so long and dramatic bro I just brain like that)

Actual request:

ok so like I knowww cut chaos started from rumours but like rumours are an easy way to start plot lines k? (Also I use she pronouns out of habit but they is pog too)

the friends in question: Tommyinnit (duh), Wilbur (moosic boi), Ranboo (generation loss trauma guy), Possibly Slimecicle?? I know he’s not someone you do requests for normally buttt if you’re okay with it that would be POG, or if slime is a no, tubbo!

SO a few months ago Y/N started working on an SMP with some minimal custom mods, some fancy texture packs, maybe some data packs, and its like this BIGGG project, BUT its not public and its taking a lot of her time, so she can only really do a few streams and most of the time because her schedule is so full its hard to work out streams with friends so, she is alone. with the internet being the internet people started to think something was up, some annoyed viewers made a few rumours and people kept making things up and escalating things until people were saying she did all sorts of horrible things to “lose all her friends” but one of the most popular theories was that she was emotionally abusing them (??? Internet wildin ig) she ignored them while mostly finishing the stuff for the smp, but decided to address it in a very- y/n way. Getting four friends to come to her house and hide slightly off camera while she made a purposefully bad apology video only for them to jump out at the end and her to stand up and be like “YALL REALLY THOUGHT I WAS SOME MASTER MANIPULATOR?! I’M JUST A FUNKY LITTLE CHAOTIC MINECRAFT GOBLIN N’ I’VE BEEN WORKING ON AN SMP THIS WHOLE TIME!! ITS GONNA BE SUPER COOL AND THESE FOUR PLUS ALOOOOT MORE PEOPLE ARE GONNA BE THERE I’M POSTING THE CREATORS SOON AND ITS LAUNCHING IN A MONTH!, SO STOP ASSUMING I’M A BAD PERSON AND GET PUMPED BITCHES!” something along those lines, maybe at the end a little peek at what people are responding with. (Obviously no pressure, but like id be cool) (thanks for considering deity of the busses and models.)

HOW WE LIKING THE SILLIES?!?

P.S I’m not always an angst gremlin (just most of the time..) - ✨🌌🌙 Annon

I DO BE LIKING THE SILLIES (and thank you for elevating me to the level of deity, my ego has been inflated)

Pairing: Cc! Wilbur, Tommy, Ranboo, Charlie Slimecicle x Gn!Reader (platonic)

Roaring Rumors

Life was all about sacrifices.

Or, that’s what you keep telling yourself when you’re up at 1AM working on your server. Putting together an SMP is harder than it sounds; texture packs, data packs, comparability, world-building, even the (seemingly) simply act of contacting people to play on it. For the amount of time you spent on your computer, your hands might as well be part of your keyboard.

Sleep wasn’t the only thing you sacrificed. Streaming, even just fun ones with your friends, had quickly became rare. Although you loved to hop on a call while coding still, your online presence had severely receded.

You just keep telling yourself that sacrifices are necessary. That the payoff would be worth it.

And it really would be, but you just had to get there first. Which was proving harder than you had thought.

At the very least, you still had your friends. Wilbur sitting silently on call with you while you work, Tommy dragging you out of your room, Ranboo always willing to get excited over your progress. Every day you woke up with a text from your groupchat—typically Charlie—just filling you in on the latest internet trend by a meme.

Today, your news comes from Wilbur and Tommy.

“I think they’re canceling you.” Wilbur says casually while you’re in the midst of detailing the hunger bar for a texture pack.

“Ooh, you’re a wrong’un!” Tommy yells in the background of Wilbur’s side of the call.

The three of you had been idly chatting while each doing your own thing. Wilbur and Tommy were engaged in some Twitter competition, as far as you know.

“Canceling me for what?” You ask, deciding to ignore Tommy’s shouting.

“Existing, I think.” Wilbur answers.

“So the normal.”

“The normal.”

Although the conversation stops there, you can’t help yourself. Later, during one of the few hours you dedicate to getting sleep to stay alive, you pull open Twitter on your phone. Your last tweet was nearly two weeks ago, so it’s been a minute.

But you just want to make sure nothing horrible happened while you were busy. You’re a content creator, this is normal. Definitely. You definitely aren’t just justifying this so you can do it.

You swipe through tweets, heading to trending and searching your name. Tweets load, making your mouth run dry. Wilbur wasn’t joking.

All you can do is scroll, reading as the messages get wilder and wilder. From people saying they were missing you to theories on why nobody was streaming you. Each one seemed considerably more implausible, and before you know it you’re glaring at your screen like it’s to fault.

Some thought you had grown apart.

Some thought you had a falling out.

And, apparently, a lot thought you were emotionally abusing them. Or, depending on the tweet, manipulating them.

Quite honestly, you didn’t even know how they got the idea. The long threads of explanations did nothing but send you into a spiral, biting your bottom lip so hard that it bleeds.

You were so close to finishing the SMP. It needed just a few things, then you'd be able to start scheduling to get it up and running. You didn't have the time nor mental capacity to deal with whatever the fuck is going on right now.

Is it a good choice? Maybe not. But do you still ignore the accusations? Hell yes.

By the time you get even closer to finishing the preparations for your SMP, you've come up with the perfect plan to address the (quite stupid) rumors. It'll be a two-in-one; you address the rumors and announce the SMP at the same time.

"How long do I have to lay on this floor?" Tommy asks, stretched out behind your chair.

"Nobody asked you to lay on the floor." Wilbur points out, standing next to your computer. Charlie, on the other side, laughs.

"Yeah man, you wanted to be down there."

"Besides, I'm doing great down here!" Ranboo chimes in.

You roll your eyes, grinning. "I'm about to start stream, so it won't be for much longer. Just wait for my cue, yeah?"

Tommy grumbles, but shuts up. You take that as your chance to start the stream, switching it off your waiting screen and waving to the camera. Your chosen stream title has brought in a bit more than your usual casual steam view number, "Talking about some serious stuff," leading people to believe there will be drama. And if it's drama they want, it's drama you'll give.

"Hello, hello!" You smile, leaning back. "So I've decided to talk about some things. Namely, the Twitter shit. I am so sorry for everything, and I mean that. A lot. Sincerely. There's meaning in it."

Tommy snorts, and from the corner of your eye you catch Wilbur kick him to shut him up.

"What am I sorry about?" You ask rhetorically, acting like you read it off of chat. "Oh, you know. People have been saying all types of stuff. The things about me manipulating my friends?" There's a pause while you let that sink in. "So, I'm sorry."

It's a purposefully shitty apology, but you sigh and act like its heartfelt for a few moments, nodding towards chat. Their messages are mostly confused, especially because it isn't one emote-only.

"Sorry you guys are so gullible!" You shout, and Tommy practically tackles you.

Wilbur's the one to fix your chair, Ranboo and Charlie appearing next to you within moments.

"You guys really thought this one could manipulate me? The master?" Charlie asks the stream, pointing at you.

"Yeah!" Tommy shouts, way too energetic for someone who complained five minutes ago about being on the floor. "We're the master manipulators! Get fooled!"

"I, for one, haven't manipulated anyone-" Ranboo starts, but Tommy slaps a hand over his mouth and nods empathetically.

"Yeah, I don't know what you guys were thinking, but I've just been playing fucking Minecraft for the past few months nonstop." You laugh.

"Nonstop. It's a problem." Wilbur nods.

"It is not a problem!" Pause. "Anyways, I made an SMP! And that's where I've been! Not because I've been manipulating my friends or some shit, stop being dumbasses."

"It'll be super cool!" Ranboo adds in helpfully.

"These four-"

"That's us!" Charlie points around at himself, Wilbur, Tommy, and Ranboo.

"-will be on it, plus a lot more. It'll be posting those people soon! As in, check your Twitter obsessively guys! The SMP will be in about a month, too, so get fucking excited! I want to see some hype!"

"WOO!" Tommy screams, making everyone cringe at having their eardrums ruptured.

"So that's all I wanted to talk about I think. Anything to add, guys?" You glance around at the four surrounding you with a grin.

"One thing." Charlie nods, leaning in really close. "I have a secret. This SMP, it's actually-" He hits your end stream button mid-sentence. "And that's how you keep 'em interested."

Ycgmaenthusist NEW SMP NEW SMP NEW SMP NEW SMP

Mammalianeighingreflecenthusiest We are dumb as fuck aren’t we

Poabsenthusiest i will RIOT IN THE STREETS if any of yall be mean to MY STREAMER -> Cmwylenthusist FR I GOT TWO FISTS AND A CAUSE

#dsmp #mcyt #mcyt imagine #tommyinnit x reader #tommyinnit x you #wilbur soot x reader #tommyinnit #wilbur soot x you #wilbur soot #ranboo x reader #ranboo imagine #ranboo mcyt #ranboo #ranboolive #charlie slimecicle #charlie slimesicle x reader

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gloriouscolorland · 11 months

Text

science homework

pairing: Stiles Stilinski x Fem!reader

author note: ok im really nervous about posting this it's my first fic and i kinda cringed writing it but if you like it thank god if anyone's reading this plss request something and i plan on writing a list for who i will write for.

summary: studying over at your best-friends house leads to an embarrassing dream.

warning : smut prolly some spelling mistakes sorry if there are.

this would be a fun Saturday night but instead you were dragged into catching up on science homework with none other than your best friend since birth, stiles. with all the super natural stuff going on you hadnt had the time for your favorite classes work and frankly it got boring after 7th grade. ''Y/n? are you even listening?'' ''yea yea blah this blah that . can we go out now !'' '' no you have to do this work your failing and i cant have that it looks bad on me that my best friend has a d.'' stiles inquired. he was right you knew that much but it was still boring. defeated you smile at him sarcastically grabbing your text book and falling back on his bed.

not even 20 minutes your knocked out basically snuggling your textbook , in your slumber you notice your completely aware of what your dreaming of course its the familiar brunette boy who was studying seconds ago now in your dream covering you in love marks. it was no secret that you liked stiles alot like alot alot well other than to stiles. unknowingly you had let out a little sound which turned into more sounds which caught stiles attention/

looking up at you to see if your ok stiles notices you sleeping and... whimpering!? he was a hot mess at your sounds alone stressed out even not knowing what to do he started touching himself as your moans escalated causing his very own to arise

and his moans didn't help your dazed sate they fueled on your dream more and more until stiles took matters into his own hands literally he started to touch himself as he was jerking off moaning horribly loud you sent him over the edge moaning his name and whining he couldn't take it any more he came all over him self he cleaned himself up and pretended nothing happened as his dad would be home soon

after admiring your beautiful state for what felt like forever he woke you up with the excuse you needed to head home cause yall had school tomorrow.

AN: hii! im sorry this sucked but if you want a part two tell me or have any requests hit me up i will write for alot of other fictional characters so just ask i hope you kinda liked this ask me for anything i dont judge. lots of love<3

#stiles stilinski #stiles smut #stiles x y/n #stiles x fem!reader #smut #stiles stilinski smut #stiles x reader

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ohworm-writes · 5 months

Note

Hi omg! I hope your doing well and your day/night is going great! ^^. Okay- I genuinely don’t know how this thought came to me, but now that it has its all I can think about when it comes to Nikolai in just two words: Sleepy Sex. Like just imagining where your both cuddled in bed together, the sun shining through the curtains and shining down on the two of you as you both sleep- him spooning and holding you. Can see maybe where he has a rare off day from work and you do too, and because y’all hadn’t seen each other in awhile and being so close to one another’s warm bodies is just so lovely, what better way to enjoy it then by him slowly kissing down your exposed neck, whispering how your so gorgeous even if you say your still tired and look like a mess. After awhile, his hand would slowly go down to the front of your shorts and it quickly turns to him fingering you softly.

Ugh- he’d be so gentle, continuing to praise and say how he plans on spending his day off right with you, even as you come apart on his fingers, even as he’s slowly pushing himself inside you; it’d just be unabashed sleepy/pent up sex AH- Nikolai makes me froth at the mouth sometimes istg???

No because you're absolutely so fuckin' right with this one. I can't even... the amount of time I've spent frothing and drooling at this ask in specific is genuinely unbelievable.

PAIRING gn!reader x Nikolai RATING R - Restricted [ Content warnings: 18+ mdni, soft dom!Nikolai, fingering, sleepy sex]

The thing is, it starts out so innocent. Him waking up first, of course, his body curled perfectly around yours, his face buried into the back of your neck right where your hair starts to sprout.

He's breathing so soft and slow, and his breath is so hot when he wakes up. His voice is so deep and groggy too, giving you these sweet little pecks against your skin as he mumbles out.

And then it escalates to him sliding his big, warm hand down the front of those cute little shorts you love wearing to bed as he stuffs you full, his fingers covered in your slick as he slowly, lazily pumps his fingers in and out of you.

His beard is scratchy against the back of your neck as he kisses it, but it's so hard to be annoyed by when two of his fingers are stuffing your hole and a third teasing.

He's not even being rough or doing anything to escalate it - no bites or nips, no harsh or forceful actions, no groping or squeezing of any kind. Just lazy, loving motions.

Loves the way you feel when you cum all because of his fingers. No need to ask for permission or beg or anything of the like because he just lets you, humming against your skin with his eyes closed, yawning as he gently grinds his hips against the curve of your ass, his big, fat cock barely held back by his briefs.

They're already stained through from his pre-cum too, so eager at such at early hour as it throbs and twitches and he barely pushes his own briefs down enough to get himself out while you shimmy those pretty shorts off.

Your thighs are all messy, too. All sticky and wet from your own cum and slick, which makes it all the easier for him when he pushes himself inside of you and rocks his hips in a slow, lazy manner.

It's almost like he's trying to fuck the both of you back to sleep with the way his and your eyelids are so, so heavy.

He just missed you so much! How can he not fuck that pretty little hole of yours when it's so wet and ready for him? You're making so many pretty noises, too. :(

He's been missing you so much and he knows the two of you haven't been able to spend enough time together, so he hopes filling you to the brim can make up for it.

If he hadn’t just woken up, he’d be folding you in half and fucking the air from your lungs, thrusts hard enough to make you cry. But that isn’t the case, and honestly, he enjoys this in his own way.

Just being able to feel the way your walls wrap around him perfectly, so gummy and tight and warm. And feeling the way you gush around his cock when you cum even though he’s going so slow and being so soft with his movements - it makes his head spin.

Can’t (and won’t) even try to stop himself when he cums, dick twitching as his balls empty and thick ropes of his cum fill up that pretty hole of yours. Fucks it back into you if any leaks out. Can’t have his partner wasting a drop, now can he?

And when he finally pulls out, he maneuvers himself so that he can pull you on top of him, chest to chest, one hand on your hip and the other tracing patterns into your spine as he mumbles words of praise and adoration to you.

It’s the perfect way to start off both of your days. Wouldn’t you agree?

#just something short because this ask has been sitting in my inbox for a while #trying to figure out a format for simple short drabbles like this so bare with me #bare? bear? i dunno #Nikolai x reader #cod nikolai x reader #nikolai cod x reader #nikolai cod #cod nikolai #Nikolai #cod x reader #call of duty x reader

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maple-the-awesome · 1 year

Text

It's Over? ||

Pairing: (any) Peter Parker x Reader

Words: 3,728

Overview: (Loosely based on this) After overhearing your conversation on the phone, Peter begins to worry about the status of your relationship and a miscommunication over text only makes matters worse.

Marvel Masterlist 🖤 Fandom Masterlist 🖤 Requests

Peter Parker's such a terrible boyfriend.

...Okay, so maybe you've never said that to his face, but he's convinced it's true and he's also certain you agree. He's been a massive idiot lately which is a realization that makes him sick with worry and rotten with guilt.

Peter feels no hesitation with his feelings towards you and has always put effort into proving it: he gets you hand picked flowers collected during his patrols, writes loving messages for you with webs outside your window, and even texts you pictures of sunsets from the best views in New York, wishing you could be there in person with him because he absolutely treasures you, counting himself lucky every single day solely because of the fact that he can call himself your boyfriend.

Unfortunately, he fears that the title might change here soon because no matter how boundless his love is for you, he's done a real shitty job of showing it - at least in the ways that really count the most.

Originally, Peter didn't notice the flaws to your relationship and even when he did, he foolishly brushed them off. Once your smile began to fade little by little each time he returned home wounded, he reminded you that you don't need to stay up waiting for him every night and can go to sleep earlier if you're just going to be tired and annoyed with him when he gets home. He didn't mean to word it so harshly. He was worn out himself and didn't take the time to consider that you wait all night because you're worried about him.

Your complaints about him returning from work without getting any groceries would simply be met with new promises to do so after patrol. If there was no food in the fridge for dinner, then he suggested ordering take out. As a man who could easily survive months on Top Ramen alone, he didn't think you'd mind Chinese food two days in a row.

Even when you'd beg him to stay home for a date night because you haven't had one in weeks, he'd push you away, insisting he needs to protect New York without once stopping to wonder how his priorities might translate in your mind: 'I need to protect a city of strangers as I do every single night, so no, I can't spare a few hours for my girlfriend'.

Throughout every sigh to part your lips, Peter turned a blind eye to it all. Sure, the two of you argue, but all couples do, right? He still loves you and you love him, it's just...a little rough dating a superhero is all, however you'll both get through it together, he was so sure - and that's the key word: Peter 'was' sure, but after your fight today and the self-reflection he's done since, he's not too confident anymore.

It seemed so minuscule this morning. He was eating a bowl of cereal when he heard you huff from the other room. Upon investigating, he found you holding a red and blue shirt in hand, frustration written all over your face. It was your favorite shirt and it definitely wasn't supposed to be that color. Of course, the reason for its unplanned dye job wasn't difficult to guess.

Peter apologized while explaining he was really tired the night before and must've thrown his suit into the wash without checking the other items first; an "honest mistake" he called it with a shrug. Once again, you huffed, throwing the shirt back into the hamper in clear defeat which only made him press further about your suddenly foul mood. From there, the situation only escalated into raised voices ending in you slamming the door directly in his face when he tried to follow you into the bedroom.

Looking back on it now, Peter realizes his apology came off as halfhearted as he merely continued to stuff another spoonful of cereal in his mouth in between sentences and he probably should've stayed at that locked door to give you a proper apology, yet regrettable that's not how it played out. Instead, he purposely sighed as loudly as he could, asking why you "act so bitchy anymore" before stomping off...Not the greatest way to resolve an argument.

Unfortunately, Peter can't say that was the first fight he's merely walked away from with you. You would think Spiderman would know better, but alas, he's an idiot. In his own immature mind, he didn't see anything wrong or unhealthy with this strategy of simply dropping 'unfavorable conversations', after all, it seemed he had a fifty-fifty chance of you either getting angrier or never bringing the topic up again, the latter of which has been occurring more frequently lately. It wasn't until this morning that he realized just because you don't bring it up again, doesn't mean it isn't still hurting you.

When Peter went back up to the bedroom door, prepared to tell you he'd be leaving for work soon, he heart shattered upon hearing your silent sobs from inside. You were crying because of him. Your tears have always been his weakness, but it was in that moment that he learned there's something else that can deal even more damage to his sorrow and that's the broken words you sniffled to presumably MJ on the phone:

"I-I just can't do this anymore! It doesn't matter what I do! I've tried to not be clingy. I've tried to give him space and let him do his thing, but he never comes back to me! I don't even remember the last time we've gone on a date. It's always New York this, Daily Bugle that. Hell, he volunteered to work a few extra hours the other day yet can't be bothered to stay home just to eat dinner at the table with me! It's like I'm last to everything else in his life even when I put him first in mine!"

The thought of your relationship ending turns Peter's nerves to mush. How could he be so stupid? So ignorant? Such an asshole when he has the perfect girlfriend who has kept putting up with his bullshit for all this time? You don't ask for much in return; you never have. You ask him to help with small chores in your shared apartment. You request that he texts you regularly throughout the night not because you need attention, but because you need to know he's safe. You want date nights every once in a blue moon because he's your boyfriend, goddammit! What's the point of saying you're dating if he feels more like a lazy roommate than an equal lover?

You're slipping right through his fingers and he has no one to blame except himself. He knows that now and he's been spending the entire day thinking about it along with some way to apologize properly.

Part of him wishes he would've just pulled himself together and done something right then, bursting into the room with the promise that he can change - that he will change. Hell, he'd burn his suit in front of you if it means you'll give him another chance - if you'll believe for a second that the relationship is worth saving...But alas, he couldn't bring himself to interrupted your call, feeling it would only betray your trust if you knew he had been listening to a private conversation.

Instead, Peter sat like a statue on the couch, waiting not so patiently for you to leave the room on your own accord. When you did, he leaped up only for you to walk directly past him while sternly reminding him you have work. Of course you had work and, no matter how far he followed you through the apartment, begging you to listen to him for even just a minute, you wouldn't so much as glance his way...The karma he deserves.

While you may not have given him any time to explain himself this morning, hope is not completely lost. Shortly after your departure, Peter came to the realization that his nerves will last all day if he doesn't do something about your earlier argument, thus he decided to text you:

Your final text hadn't come until ten minutes after his, but at least he has a chance to plead his case which he doesn't plan on letting go to waste. He's practiced his apology about a hundred times each hour, engraving the thought-out speech in the deepest corners of his mind despite none of it sounding quite right. Of course none of it sounds right! You sounded so convinced on your phone call - like your mind is already made up on ending the relationship. What if you can't be swayed? What if you don't love him anymore? It did take you ten minutes to text those words back. Maybe you weren't even wanting to say them to spare you both the extra pain at noon.

It may seem hopeless, as Peter worries, however he refuses to give up. Too tense at home, he took to swinging around New York while sometimes reciting his speech aloud. He's tried his best to predict any possible response you may have so that a counter argument can be prepared. He wants to show you that he means this - that he's confident in his ability to fix your crumbling relationship. He's even picked up a nice bouquet of flowers at the corner store, ignoring the weird looks the florists gave as Spiderman dropped from the sky just to nervously request the best flowers to avoid a break up.

Needless to say, Peter's heart nearly jumps out of his chest when his phone alarm finally rings at noon. By this time, he's already sitting on the rooftop of your workplace, waiting nervously for your call while reviewing everything he's prepared in the meantime.

Bad boyfriend or not, Peter still knows you. He knows you find the break room too crowded, so you prefer to grab your lunch and take it back to your desk to eat. That's when you'll likely call him. The plan is then for him to pour his heart out into his speech before hanging upside down outside your office window with the flowers. Sappy, yes, but it's the best a desperate wreck like Peter Parker can think of!

His focus is glued to his phone screen while waiting, only shattered by the sound of sirens nearby. Lifting his head, Peter's heart drops at the sight of several cop cars racing down the street to a location he's learned all too well throughout his time as Spiderman: the damn bank. Of course, someone has to rob the bank now! Crime has been quiet all day, but the one time Peter needs it to be so, it decides to be blaring loud instead!

He curses under his breath when standing only for his ringer to be the new sound in his ears. You're calling now! You're calling and there's a bank robbery a few blocks down! Why does the universe hate Peter like this?

"Hello -"

"- Hey, (Y/n)...Sweetheart - Listen, I'm, um," he bites his lip, watching a few more cop cars zoom by in the company of a firetruck," I am so sorry, but I'm gonna have to call you back, okay? There's a robbery at the bank and I -...I promise I'm going to call you back before your break is over. I promise."

You don't respond too quickly much to Peter's concern - as if you already know to start weighing the worth of his promises. When you finally sigh, you sound just as tired as this morning, "...Sure, alright. Just...be safe, Peter, okay?"

"I know, I will be! I promise I'm going to call you right back so just hold tight!" Swinging into the air, Peter holds the phone to his ear with his shoulder, soon removing it with his hand but pausing to say before hanging up: "Have a good lunch, I love you!"

"...I love you, too..." Another delayed response, one Peter barely hears before pressing the little red button on the bottom of his screen.

He's dealt with lots of bank robberies before. He can make this quick. Swing in, keep the sass to a minimum, web up the badies, save the hostages, and return your call with plenty of time remaining for your break. It'll definitely work out that way, no sweat!

It didn't work out that way...No, of course it didn't, this is the life of Peter Parker; a man the universe just seems to hate most of the time. Forty two minutes; that's how long it took to deal with the whole fiasco at the bank. The robbers were armed with homemade weapons each packing a punch which are already annoying to deal with on their own, but sided with the worry of hostages and his already stressful day, the fight wasn't as easy as Spiderman had planned.

Nevertheless, no matter what the universe decides to throw his way, he has gotten good at recovering. Yet again, the bad guys were defeated and left webbed up for the police, however Spiderman had no time to deliver a clever pun before his exit. Instead, he disappears the second the threat is gone, his phone already in hand as he prepares to face another:

"Shit, shit, shit!" Peter curses, pacing across the rooftop he lands on while frantically texting you back:

Swinging a bit further, Peter begins his way towards your work with his phone balanced against his ear. He mumbles desperate pleas under his breath as he listens to the seemingly endless ringing before, to his relief, your voice finally picks up on the other side:

"Yeah?"

"Oh thank god! I didn't mean it's over as in 'I'm over with you and our relationship', but over as in 'I got the robbers'. I'd never break up with you especially over text, I swear - Listen, I really need to talk to you, but in person. Are you still at work?"

"Whatever it is, can't you just tell me now? I have that meeting in like ten minutes."

"No, I need to tell you in person. I need - I have to make sure that we're okay...I want us to be okay..." He's nearly in tears which is obvious to you by the sound of his voice.

"What are you talking about?"

"I really don't want you to break up with me. I know I've been a terrible boyfriend lately and I know I've made you feel like shit so I probably deserve to be dumped, but I swear I never meant to and I want to fix everything - I will fix everything, I swear! You're the most important person in my life - okay, maybe second to May because she's my aunt, but compared to everyone else! I love you more than Spiderman or the Daily Bugle or - or even those super good sandwiches at the corner deli!"

"Peter -"

"- My point is I can do so much better! I'll start doing all the chores, I'll take more days off from the Daily Bugle and I'll even stop being Spiderman if it means you'll be happy with me, I promise! Just please give me one more chance -!"

"- Peter, hold on!" He instantly shuts his mouth under the strictness in your voice. You hesitate on the other end before a sigh can be heard, "...How quickly can you be here?"

"Give me two minutes tops!"

"...Alright. Meet me on the rooftop - and don't be late. My manager's already an asshole as it is, so I can't be late to this meeting."

The sound of Peter landing on the roof causes you to turn around, yet you have no time to say anything before he's running towards you with his mask already crinkled in his hand as well as a few measly roses with broken stems in the other, "(Y/n), I’m sorry. I promise I’m sorry.”

“Peter, your face…” Perhaps it’s just instincts and routine at this point, but the first thing you notice is the nasty bruise already forming under his eye, not that he’s the slightest bit concerned about that, in fact he doesn’t even acknowledge your comment.

“Please give me another chance. I’ll fix everything!” When Peter officially reaches your side, he moves to hug you - desperately wanting to do so, however he stops himself with his hands on your arms, having no more confidence to push his luck. You could shove him away at any moment, after all, “Like I said, I’ll do the chores, I’ll go on as many dates as you want, and I’ll stop being Spiderman even -”

“- You wouldn’t stop being Spiderman. You’d never stop being Spiderman,” contrary to his expectations, rather than being angry, you run a hand through his hair, your voice a soft whisper, “You love being Spiderman too much, Peter.”

He bites his lip and bows his head in shame. You’re right. He doesn’t want to stop being Spiderman, but…

“...But I love you more…”

“...Peter,” your heart swoons. Brushing his bangs away from his face, you tilt your head to get a good look at him, “I know you love me and I love you, too. That’s why I could never ask you to give up something as important to you as Spiderman.”

“I thought…” He trails off.

“You thought what?”

He glances at you quickly before directing his eyes away, “...I thought you were mad at me because of Spiderman? Because I spend too much time working - that’s why you want to break up with me, right?”

You blink in surprise, “Huh? Why would you think I want to break up with you?”

“I accidentally overheard you talking on the phone,” now it’s your turn to look away in shame, “You said you couldn’t do this anymore…That you were pretty much fed up with me which you have every right to be. I’ve been a terrible boyfriend lately -”

“- You’re not a terrible boyfriend -”

“- I am, though!” Peter cries, “It’s like you said! I leave you second to everything else - I don’t mean to, but I made you feel like you’re not as important to me when you really are. You’ve always been important to me, yet I’ve been ignoring your feelings and I pushed you to the ledge -”

“- Peter Parker,” you move your hands to his cheeks, moving him gently to look at you as you speak quietly yet sternly, “...You’re right. You haven’t been the most ‘attentive’ lately and yes, it really hurts to be tossed aside compared to everything else. I know deep down that you don’t mean it and I know you love me. I love you too - sooo much which is why I really don’t want to break up…It’s just…Something needs to change.

“That call you heard - I was only ranting if anything because honestly, I haven’t felt like I’ve had anyone to talk to lately,” you squeeze your eyes shut, blinking back the tears, “I’ve been so worn out with it all. Work’s been crazy lately with my manager constantly up my ass for reports and then when I go home wanting nothing more than to spend time with the one person who makes all that stress go away, you aren’t there. I’ve…I can’t keep that up.

“...What’s important right now is that we both realize that. I don’t want you to give up being Spiderman, but you could take a night off once in a while, right? There’s like a zillion superheroes in this city, after all. Make the Avengers handle it or - I don’t know, that devil dude. Take a break not just for my sake, but yours, too” you let your hands fall down to Peter’s, holding onto them with a sigh, “...You’re not the only one who needs to change, though. This is partly my fault, too -”

“- It isn’t your fault. Why would it be your fault?” Peter interrupts with concern, yet you shake your head.

“I should’ve communicated to you that I was upset. I should’ve made sure you actually understood how I was feeling instead of just assuming or expecting it. Clearly, you care about us as much as I do and you want to make fixes now that you’re aware of the problems. If I just would’ve said something sooner, it wouldn’t have had to get to this point. It isn’t fair for either of us to suffer without the other’s knowledge nor is it healthy. We shouldn’t have to get pushed to the ledge or worry about a break up before ever once sitting down to actually talk about our concerns like grown ups…That’s what we’re supposed to be now, right?”

“I think so, although it’s not that easy, is it?” Peter mumbles then throws his head back dramatically with a groan, “Ah, May and Ben made it look sooo easy!’

You chuckle, resting your forehead against him, “I’m sure they had moments like this…We just have to learn, is all.”

For what feels like the first time today, Peter smiles and breathes his relief, “How about this: I’ll promise to start spending more time with you and doing more chores around the apartment if you promise to start telling me when you’re upset. Even if it’s something that seems totally stupid, okay? I won’t walk away anymore. I’ll sit and listen and if I don’t, you have my permission to call May on me.”

“It’s a promise,” you press your smile against his for what you intend to be a quick peck, however his arms finally wrap around your waist, pulling you closer into a longer kiss he’s been dying for all day.

“I love you,” he whispers once pulling away.

“I love you, too,” and there’s no hesitation or delay to your response this time.

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