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vhstown · 9 months

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time out (part 1)

[boxer au] — 42!miles g morales x gn!reader

summary: Miles Morales makes boxing history. Your boyfriend isn't there to celebrate.

warnings: angst-ish, description of (boxing) injuries, self-destructive behaviours, briefly implied death, pov switch (yay), gtranslate spanish

word count: 3.9k

a/n: ive never written 42 miles before but he's a cool lil guy split into two parts cuz it was too long 😭 semi-edited (for the millionth time)

PART 2 → / THE AU

"Just six rounds in, Miles Morales knocks out the Vulture!"

Screams and cheers exploded from your phone as you laid in bed, watching the recap of your boyfriend's boxing match. Your eyes were straining from how close you were holding the screen to your face; this was probably the third time you’d watched Miles’ win. After training to hell and back, he’d made it to the national league with you and Aaron to support him. He did more than just “make it”, in fact. His “revolutionary” victory was plastered all over social media and the news. Everywhere you looked was: “17-YEAR-OLD NYC BOXER OVERTAKES LIGHTWEIGHT CHAMPION ‘VULTURE’ IN US NATIONALS”. Miles Morales — your boyfriend — had made boxing history.

The giddy grin on your face only grew wider as he came up again on screen, sporting the stoic expression he'd perfected over the last few months behind the overly-done editing and animations of the recap. As much as you'd wanted to go out and see him live (though begging your family to let you go to Vegas wasn’t exactly feasible), he'd made it clear he didn't want you, or anyone for that matter, in that arena. It was something about having "total focus" — and it must've worked, you thought, as you watched him give his post-fight interview.

“I jus’ hope you watchin’, cause I’m here. Miles Morales made it!”

Despite his boyish, adrenaline-fuelled shout at the mic, the quiet laugh you let out was one of pride rather than embarrassment. He had every right to celebrate, and you were watching, even if it wasn’t live. Everything he'd done up until this point was well worth it: the constant training, sparring, the late nights and early mornings — maybe even the countless unanswered texts and missed calls too. Miles had worked himself to the bone, and while it might've worried you at the time, it was nothing compared to the satisfaction you felt while watching him on screen. He knew what he was doing; Miles was semi-professional at this point. You had to let him do his own thing, even if that meant letting him go for a while.

Right now, though, Miles was home from Vegas. Tapping out of the video, you scrambled to your messages. The last ones were from you, sent weeks ago, a "good luck" and "i love you" read and without a response. Your fingers kept missing the keys, and you frowned at yourself until you finally were able to hit send.

CONGRATS BABY!!! Not delivered

IM SO PROUD OF YOU Not delivered

You tried resending them, only to be met with the same red message.

why arent my texts sending Not delivered

miles??? Not delivered

Not delivered? It'd almost been three days since the tournament; Miles always had his phone on.

"To leave a message, please press one—" The call went to voicemail for the third time. Your stomach swirled with something like uncertainty. It didn't even ring at all. Miles made it a habit to always be available, so why...?

Boxers needed time to recover, he was probably just tired and turned his phone off. Or he could be busy with an interview; Miles Morales was sort of a celebrity right now — who wouldn't want to talk to the 17-year-old boxing prodigy? You knew you wanted to, prodigy or not.

It was probably because you hadn’t seen Miles in so long, but possibilities kept forming in your head, disappearing just as fast. What if he blocked you? Or he could’ve changed his number. Were you over? No. Nope. No way. Not like this.

There was one other reason that made some sort of sense, but you decided to think against it. Miles had made it to the semi-finals in entire the National League. It was over; he'd gotten what he wanted. He was supposed to be resting right now.

Miles wasn't that stupid, right...?

You pulled up Rio's contact. It was better to be safe than sorry.

Riiiiiiing, riiiiiiing…

Better for him to be safe than sorry — or stupid.

"Hello?"

"Hola, tía, uh, could I speak to Miles?" You felt just a little crazy as you held the phone to your ear, but there was no harm in calling his mom.

"Ah, he's not home right now — said he was going out with his tío."

"Oh… Do you know where they went?"

"I'm not sure. Something important. About a... contract?"

"Contract…?" you muttered to yourself. “Okay… thank you.” It wasn't like you knew anything about a contract, though it wasn't like Miles would tell you anyway. At least he was safe, and with Aaron. It was probably important, official — something that didn't involve you. Not a lot of things in Miles’ life involved you, it seemed.

"How have you been?” Rio's voice interrupted your thoughts. You had called her out of nowhere, and after a while. "Have you eaten yet?"

"Oh, um..." The last time you'd talked to Rio was… right before Miles had left for Vegas. Well, you hadn't exactly talked. All you remember is just comforting her in silence. "Yeah, tía. Have you?"

"I have, but I've just been all over the place recently. So many reporters…" Rio's voice lifted up slightly in exasperation. You could only imagine what it was like for her. Your feelings suddenly felt a lot less significant, and you were back to your comforting mode all over again.

"I see. Must be exhausting." You attempted a polite laugh, which came out more like a sigh. If only you could be as patient as Rio…

"I'm so proud, though." Her voice warmed with a smile. If your chest ached with melancholy or empathy, you didn't know. "I didn't want him to leave home so soon. I still think this whole… professional thing is a bit too much, but… I want to trust him also."

"I'm sure he'll be fine, tía. If he's in the nationals already, he's probably getting a lot of support." It was more like you were trying to convince yourself. "I'm sure he has great coaches... and he's got me and Aar— uh, his uncle, too."

"I know…" For a moment, you weren't sure if either of you had anymore to say.

"…If not, I'll have to go there myself and give them a piece of my mind, eh?" she continued. You weren’t sure if it was a joke, but a smile formed on your lips anyway.

"Yeah…" A quiet laugh leaving your mouth at the image of Rio cussing out Miles' poor manager, in two languages no less. No wonder he was such a good boxer — Rio must have passed down her fighting spirit. "Maybe you'd even get signed,” you joked, the image of that even more amusing (and a scary possibility.)

Rio let out her own laugh, and your smile only grew; talking to her always made you feel better. "Me? Boxing? Nunca (Never.) — I'll work in that hospital until the end of me."

There was another stretch of silence. You thinned out a sigh, trying not to let the smile leave your face, even if she wasn’t there to see it.

"Come over for dinner tomorrow. I'll tell Miles to come and get you."

"Sure, tía, I'd love to." He probably just needed a break. Not from you specifically, but in general.

"You know tú y Miles sois mi vida, ¿bien?" (you and Miles are my life, right?) It wasn’t often Rio said that, but you always remembered every time she did, and how it made you feel — like you were family. Rio was pretty much a second mother to you. It made you wonder what Miles' father would've been like.

"Well, it's getting late, and I have a lot of laundry to fold." Rio's tone had a fake sort of enthusiasm — tiredness? You couldn’t really tell with her; the woman was always upbeat. "Take care of yourself, okay?"

"I will." It was late, you realised, and the sky outside your window was a lot darker than it had been before. "You too, tía."

“Descansa, ¿sí?” (Get some rest, yes?)

“Sí, tía.”

The call ended, and you were left facing your messages, a bittersweet feeling hugging you from behind. Right now, Miles was out with Aaron, about some contract, probably to do with boxing…

But why weren't your texts going through?

miles are you ok? Not delivered

im really proud of you Not delivered

i wish i couldve seen you live Not delivered

It wasn’t like there was much point, but…

i love you Not delivered

Maybe it was just out of habit; maybe you just missed him. Your reflection frowned at you behind the messages, thumb hovering over the power button to shut your phone off, until your phone pinged with a notification — Aaron was texting you.

Hey man

Out of town

LMK if miles breaks in

You sat up immediately, fingers floating uselessly above the keys for a moment.

sure Read at 11:24PM

are you out of town already? Read at 11:25PM

Ping!

Yeah

@ Queens

Miles was with Aaron about some “contract”... and Aaron was in Queens?

You knew Miles hadn't blocked you, or turned his phone off — he had no signal. And there was only one place in Brooklyn you could think of that had no reception, and that MIles had any reason to be in. It was also the one place you didn't want him to go to: that damn warehouse.

The place he’d spent training all those weeks — what reason did he have to be there right after finishing the tournament? Putting on your jacket, blinking back the sleepiness and collecting the fleeting remains of patience you had left, you could only hope that Miles had even a shred of common sense with him.

THWACK! THWACK! THWA— Crack!

"Mierda..." (Shit...) Miles hissed, drawing his glove away from the punching bag. His hand was paralysed for a moment, a deep, gnawing pang running through his fingers down to the rest of his arm. The tight gloves only suffocated him more, doing nothing to ease the pain as he gritted his teeth and waited for it to dull down.

Why was he even here? It was over — that Norman bastard had blown him off hours ago. It felt like a couple minutes, the words still fresh in his mind. Searing pain shot through his hand when he tried to flex his fingers, the rest of his muscles starting to ache too. This was going to hurt after the adrenaline wore off. Damn it, Morales.

The walls flashed white all of a sudden, a faint rumble of thunder interrupting the pounding of his heartbeat as he tried to straighten himself out. It was quiet, except for the sounds of the incoming storm. The playlist he was listening to had finished ages ago — your playlist. If he didn’t want to think about you, he wasn’t doing a good job of it.

Rain blasted quietly against the windows, and Miles’ eyes stung with dryness as he squeezed them shut. There was no way he'd be able to go back now, not to you, definitely not to his mom. She'd probably go on and on about how he should've taken his jacket, how he ruined his hair in the rain again, maybe how he wasted his damn time being a boxer...

It was probably fair; his mom had enough on her plate trying to support them both — especially him right now. She’d done everything in her power to make sure he got to Vegas, and he’d just left her alone again right after. But how was he meant to face her now? He was supposed to make her proud, make his dad proud, but it wasn’t like he had any pride left after he’d lost his contract. The Green Goblin had probably set the record for fastest knockout when Miles lost to him. Of course just the semi-finals weren’t enough; Norman Osborn was the big shot of boxing, and if Miles lost to some rookie in just about 15 seconds, then maybe he wasn’t worth the investment.

It didn’t make sense — nothing about The Green Goblin (or “Harry”, whatever they liked to gossip about) made sense. He’d just debuted, but didn’t even look like a boxer; he didn’t stand right, his style was inconsistent, his head movement was all over the place, but his punch had almost knocked Miles’ brain straight out of his skull. It was almost superhuman. Even with no openings, the freak of nature had forced his way through like an animal. And he was scrawny, not nearly as built as Miles at least, like he should’ve been in the weight class down. Either way, the asshole was being celebrated, and Miles was out of a contract.

And Miles had just stood there, while Norman berated him and tore Miles’ dream apart right in front of his very eyes. Maybe he’d hoped too much as an “amateur” boxer. That’s all he was, apparently — no matter how hard he worked, or what he achieved, or what he promised.

“Why should I keep you? The Vulture was destined to lose at his age.”

“Even rigged matches wouldn’t get you anywhere.”

“I mean, you’re as good at fighting as one of those street kids.”

“That’s all you were before I decided to give you a chance, no?”

The image of the Norman’s uncanny, sneering face sent his good fist reeling towards the punching bag. Should’ve pummelled his pelirojo (redhead) ass to the ground—

"Miles!"

The glove crumpled mid-air against the bag, arm going rigid. It was silent as he let out a breath through his teeth — he wasn’t hearing things, was he?

The rush was starting wearing off, his mind starting to cloud and pain faintly radiating again from his other hand. His good fist tightened inside the glove, pushed against the bag which was still and awkwardly tilted.

You’re losing focus, just punch the damn thing—

"Miles, what the hell are you doing here?"

The noise of the door shutting made him turn around, floor squeaking under his stumbling feet. It was you by the door, breathing just as heavily as him and dripping head to toe with rain, in a jacket that was way too thin for any sort of weather.

Dios... (God...) He knew he couldn’t be hallucinating that disapproving look on your face.

Rain was pattering gently against the glass as he pulled his arm away away from the bag, letting it swing in front of him before his eyes met yours.

"It's midnight, what are you..." A sharp intake of breath interrupted your words — a shiver.

"What’re you doin’ here...?" Miles asked instead through a grimace. His voice came out wrong — hoarse. Cold sweat was clinging to his skin, and his throat was dry and tightening. A mess — that’s what you were talking to right now, barely your boyfriend. All he could do was stare as the rush died down and his senses were coming back to him. The fog in his mind made it hard to speak, even harder to look at you.

"My texts and calls weren't going through— You weren't with Aaron or your mom, I just..." You sucked in another breath through your teeth; raindrops were glistening on your skin. He should’ve just stayed home, damn it. "Was just worried."

Well, he certainly looked worrying, even more so than you. Swallowing back his breathlessness wasn’t helping; it was like he’d ran a marathon with his fists. The pain from his knuckle was starting to bleed into the rest of his hand so much so that it might’ve been broken.

"'M good... You, though?" He let out a bit of a growl to clear his throat before deciding to cut straight to the chase: you’d come here in the middle of the night, in the rain, by yourself. As much as he was being an idiot right now, the amount of times he’d told you to not do any of those things, pleaded with you even, was making you look like the delirious one in his eyes. Miles was being stubborn, but he knew you were worse.

“You insane…?” he muttered, taking a step away from the bag. “Did Aaron tell you to come here or sumn’?"

"No, he was supposed to be with you," you shot back, eyes narrowing at him from under your hood before thunder bellowed from all around. The rain was growing into a loud static noise, and your voice was muffled as your expression grew more exasperated. "You came home 3 days ago and you didn't even text me. Yeah, I probably should've texted you, and I tried, but now you're here training alone again when your mom thinks you're with Aaron and—"

"You come here to scold me?" His jaw crunched a little as he tried to keep the annoyance out of his voice. Miles wasn’t trying to be mad at you — he was just mad in general. It just so happened to be in your direction right now.

“Huh? No, I came here because you scared the hell out of me — and Aaron told me to not let you break into his place.”

If it was supposed to be funny, the laugh he let out was anything but amused. At least Aaron wasn’t here for him to disappoint too, or get a weirdly-phrased life lesson from, or both. “Well I’m not breakin’ in, and I told you, I’m good, so I don’t get why you’re still here.”

You stepped a little closer, and Miles’ heels dug into the ground to keep himself from moving. “Isn’t it obvious? Or are you just being difficult on purpose?”

“Difficult?” he mirrored dryly, trying to push back the growing exhaustion clouding his head.

“Can you not just take a break for once? It’s over, Miles; you already won—”

“I didn’t win.” The walls echoed with his voice, words having escaped on their own. It wasn’t at you, but he didn’t know what he was mad at, resolve fading as he watched your face straighten with realisation.

“Don’t tell me that’s why you’re here…”

His fingers unconsciously clawed into the boxing glove, pain shoot through his hand. Nothing came out of his mouth, but his silence was loud — incriminating. That was the reason, right? That he didn't win?

“Kid didn’t stand a chance.” What was the point of you being here?

“A one-punch concussion — on a newbie, no less.” It was over, like you said.

“It’s a shame, I bet on him too.” Everyone had given up on him.

“You should be resting right now— you’re shaking, Miles.” So why wouldn't you?

“No ‘m not…” is all he could muster, flexing his shoulders uncomfortably. Your hand was on his arm before he could realise, and he was met with a stern look as he tried to keep his gaze from shaking too.

The velcro on his gloves crunched as you started undoing them, and he couldn’t bring himself to stop you. It’s not like he had the energy.

“You coulda’ got hurt on your way here.” The croak in his voice made him sound more hopeless than reprimanding as you slipped off the first glove, pausing half-way down his palm. His bare palm.

“…I could’ve got hurt?” Miles held back a sigh as he was made to look at his own hand. Bruised, blackened, branded with anger — it hurt more to look at it than anything. “You didn’t wear your wraps?”

The other glove slid off, revealing the fresh, festering swelling coming from his middle knuckle — the aftermath of that sickening cracking noise. You took his curled hand, easing up his middle finger and making him hiss under his breath.

“Think you can straighten it?” you muttered, gently trying to do it yourself only to lose his hand from your grip.

“’S gonna be fine,” he mumbled, eyes fixed to the side as his hand closed back up.

“It won’t if you can’t move it properly.”

“You a doctor now?”

“Nah, but your mom’s a nurse.” You carefully held his hand by palm, thumb tracing over the tender, split skin, his fingers wrapping around the side of your hand in futile protest. He’d have to bother his mom again — he didn’t even think about that. “You basically just punched yourself.”

Everything you were saying was right — it always was. He hated that fact.

“You a boxing expert too?” he thought to retort.

“Thought that was supposed to be you.” Miles’ eyes narrowed, and yours narrowed in response. “I don’t get it, baby...” you sighed, shaking your head a little as you put down the gloves to the side.

Baby. His breath almost hitched. You were dating, and it didn’t even seem like it anymore. Not after all those weeks apart. The word didn’t even feel endearing, it was condescending, like he didn’t deserve it. Maybe he was being a baby, and maybe he always had been. You were the one who always had to drag him out of this make-shift gym. Right now was no different, except…

“…Why are you still doing this?” he heard you mutter, still turned away with his hand in your grip. You didn’t even know the half of it.

“Why are you still here?” His hand tried to slip away again, but you only took it by the wrist instead, now facing him.

“Why won’t you answer my questions, Miles?” Your voice deadened into a whisper, only serving to frustrate him.

“I don’t know why you care so much.” He let out a quiet huff, staring at your hand when your grip ceased to relax.

“I care because you look like you’re about to pass out and I can’t let my boyfriend kill himself over something stupid—”

“I’m not killing myse—” A pained groan escaped his mouth as you ruthlessly pushed up his injured finger.

“Don’t push me, Miles.” Oh, you were serious.

“You’re pushin’ sumn’,” he strained through gritted teeth. “Mierda… quit it already.”

The pain tore on another moment, and he was just now realising how bad it actually hurt. All you were doing was staring at him, brows knitted together. “Cariño, please…” he whispered, a wince forming on his face.

Your hand loosened, and he let out a quiet, frustrated, somewhat relieved sigh.

Still a sucker for nice words... He didn’t say them as much as he would’ve liked.

“You need to take a time out,” you stated after a beat of silence. The expression on your face was serious again, killing any sense of tenderness you might’ve shown.

He freed his hand from your grip with the opportunity, before giving you a dubious look. “Like, for kids?”

“Like for boxers, dumbass.” Your gaze followed his retreating hand for a moment before falling back on his eyes. “But if you want me to treat you like a kid…”

“I’m good.” Another roar of thunder rang out before he could add anything, and the rain was so heavy that anything you could see from the windows became a blur.

“…You got your jacket?” you suggested, without much hope.

The idea only made Miles’ eyes squeeze shut again. A shallow exhale left him, and he tried not to let his fatigue cloud his judgement. If he kept talking stupid to you, he’d probably have worse to worry about than a broken knuckle. “You think imma go outside?”

All you could do was sigh. It seemed like the two of you would be in “time out” for a while.

🕸️🔭👾

thank you for reading part 2 soon but then again its not my fav fic in the world 💔 i rewrote this like 8 trillion times and it still wasn't clicking for me 😭 idk i just got sick of editing it again and again

this isn't as short as my usual fics because i felt like i needed to add context... I've never written an au or anything remotely original so this is just yeah... im tryna figure it out! i have . too much lore for this au

reblogs appreciated lmk if you did like it (i hope this is someone's cup of tea lmao)

catch my atsv masterlist here !

#miles 42 x reader #42!miles morales x reader #42 miles morales #earth 42 miles morales x reader #miles 42 #earth 42 miles x you #miles g morales x reader #earth 42 miles x reader #miles g morales #miles gonzalo morales #atsv fanfiction #across the spiderverse #atsv x you #42!miles x reader #atsv #prowler miles x you #prowler miles x reader #prowler miles #vhstown

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spicymushroomz · 4 months

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Baby, I’m Jealous

Sebastian Sallow x Ravenclaw!GN!Reader

Synopsis: You get asked out by a guy from Ravenclaw and a certain brunette is not happy at all

Not Proofread

All Characters aged up to 18.

Word Count: 1056

Warnings: Jealousy, not historically accurate, Sebastian is aware of readers feelings, no use of y/n, use of an oc love rival, rushed pacing, making out, probably bad writing.

Author’s Note: Omg im so sorry for not posting. Ive been rlly stressed and dealing with #issues lately so im so very sorry. Please enjoy this little sebastian sallow fic (p.s. I might make this into an actual fleshed out fic if y’all enjoy this!)

——————————————————————————

Well, this was certainly an unusual day.

You sat down at the Slytherin table to eat with Ominis and Sebastian like usual, talking about various gossip going around lately, and discussing what shenanigans you might get up to later.

“No Sebastian, I am not sneaking into Scribner’s desk to find her weird demented romance books.” Said Ominis sternly.

“But Ominis! It’s for the greater good!” Pleaded Sebastian as you giggled at the two of their antics.

You had started hanging out with them after Sebastian showed you the Undercroft. 2 years back, even after all you went through, you stuck by each other. After these 2 years, it was no surprise you were in love with Sebastian. Even from the beginning you thought he was gorgeous, and Sebastian wouldn’t have it any other way.

You see, Sebastian had been aware of your little crush since the day he showed you the undercroft. He saw the blush on your face as he taught you confringo. He thought you looked great when you were flustered. It’s why for the past few weeks he’s been teasing you, whispering softly in your ear, fleeting touches, and sometimes you could’ve sworn you caught him staring at you. (Not that he would admit that anyways)

You desperately hoped he would ask you out, but as the days went by that hope dwindled. You couldn’t really blame him though, especially because he was trying so hard to look for a cure for his Sister, Anne.

You silently resigned yourself to a quiet, single life forever. Or at least, until you got over Sebastian. (Which might as well be forever)

Which is what leads us to this very strange, peculiar day. As Sebastian continued to plead with Ominis to go steal Scribner’s weird romance books, they failed to notice Dmitri Lockhart, another 7th year in Ravenclaw.

You met him on your first day, he was kind, if not a little cocky, and mostly everyone liked him. Apparently, he was the Ravenclaw Quidditch Team’s beater. You thought he was fairly handsome, with his toned body, fluffy blonde hair, and piercing blue eyes. However you didn’t think he held a candle to Sebastian in terms of looks.

He sauntered over to the Slytherin Table, sliding in next to you.

“Hey there, [name].” He greeted.

“Hey Dmitri.” You greeted back. Sebastian clenched his jaw, his eyes lingering on how Dmitri’s arm was touching yours.

“So listen, I was thinking that maybe we could-well maybe we could go to Hogsmeade sometime this weekend?” He asked, stuttering a little bit. You were impressed by his straightforwardness but you wanted to refuse. As sweet as the boy was, you would rather hang out with Sebastian.

Which speaking of, was seething with jealousy. How dare Dmitri think he can just saunter over here and ask you out, especially because that’s what Sebastian was planning to do.

Sebastian looked at you, the faint blush on your cheeks made you look ravishing. What he wouldn’t give to kiss you there and then. But then this guy had to come over and make everything difficult. Sebastian knew that in the end it was your decision, so he just had to sit there and take it.

You smiled softly at Dmitri, and let him down gently. “I’m sorry Dmitri, but I’m afraid I already have feelings for someone else.” You said, glancing at Sebastian.

Dmitri nodded. “That can’t be helped then, sorry [name] see you later.” He said, getting up and walking back to the Ravenclaw table.

Sebastian smirked smugly. Of course you chose him over Dmitri, you were smart after all. He looked at you with dark eyes, like at any moment he would gobble you up.

“Excuse us Ominis, me and [name] need to go have a private discussion.” said Sebastian, leaving the table and gesturing for you to come with him.

Ominis sighed, hoping that whatever you guys were going to do, you would at least save some space for Jesus.

Sebastian dragged you out of the great hall and into a small corridor nearby.

“Where are we going?” You asked, excited. Sebastian looked at you with hungry eyes.

“[Name], I’m in love with you.” You turned red. This was not what you were expecting. You had no time to process before he hit you with a blunt question. “May I kiss you?” He asked frantically, his eyes fleeting from your lips to your eyes.

You were even more shocked, your brain short circuiting but still managing a small nod.

Sebastian wasted no time. Hungrily, he dove for a taste of your lips. He was like a starved man, having a meal for the first time in a month. He couldn’t get enough. He ravished you, not letting you come up for air for what felt like hours. His hands had wrapped around your waist, pulling you closer to him.

He needed you closer to him. You drove him crazy, everything about you. From your lips, to your eyes, to the perfect shape of your body, everything. Everything about you was perfect for him.

When you finally looked at eachother, out of breath from the kissing, you were an utter mess. Dazed, and in a state of bliss you had no idea if this was real or the best dream you’ve ever had.

“I love you.” said Sebastian softly, “I always have.”

Realizing this was all real, and not some strange dream, you replied. “I love you too, I always will.”

——————————————————————————

Author: I know this is cringy, but I have been craving just a cringy little fic lately. It’s also nice to ease me back into writing after a short break.

#hogwarts legacy #literature #sebastian sallow #sebastian sallow x mc #sebastian sallow x reader #oc #fanfic

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4pfsukuna · 4 months

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jealous!sukuna story here👇🏾

kings-get-jealous-to

Akward

The last thing Nanami kento expected to see at Gojo’s party (that he basically tricked him into going to) was his ex girl from 4 years ago in a black mini silk dress that if you just bent over a tad bit more—

“You alright man?” Gojo ask slapping his blonde hair friends back snapping him back to the reality where his cup of alcohol had been crushed completely in his hand.

He was sure of Two things in this moment.

His hand was wet and 2? He wasnt letting you get away again.

———

Incubus curse

After the mission Gojo sent you and Namami on to get rid of some incubus curse (which he didnt mention) Nanami is shocked when you dont show up to the school the next day and decides to pay you a visit.

“I want you to bend me over every surface including my balcony until neither of us have any energy left… and then go for one more round”

Part two

What if Nanami is the one who suffers the effects of the incubus curse instead of you?

He felt fine and whatever silly little pink dust the cursed spirit sprayed mustve been just that, that’s until he catches a glimpse of you pinning one of the students to the ground and damn would he work endless amounts of overtime to be under you like that— what was he saying?! Shaking his head he almost completely looses it when he watches the way your ass jiggles in your shorts and wonders how back shots would be.

Its not long before hes back in his office gripping his length in his fist and bottom lip between his teeth to quiet his moans.

“Nanami you shouldve said something”

“Like what? How i want to have you moaning and beging to cum for a fifth time with tears in your eyes? Or that i want to watch your eyes get wide as you swallow my dick taking it to the back of your throat like the good girl i know you are? Or that i want to fill you up with every drop of my seed to put my claim on you and my self control is dwindling because i can smell your arousal and i just want to burry my face in it” he says with pure raw desire as his eyes burn into mine.

——

Professor reward & punishment.

You suck at college math and luckily your neighbor who happens to be a proffessor offers to tutor you after you helped him out a few nights ago.

“Since you can’t seem to pay attention, for every answer you get right ill put in another finger and for every wrong answer you put clothes on reducing the friction.” He holds my jaw making sure im listening.

“And extra credit” i tease before he begins rolling his sleeves up the bulge of his muscles ans loosening his tie yanking aggresively.

A dark smirk reaches his lips that ive never seen before and ive never wanted to be more accurate in… whatever subject we were studying for again.

————

Jealous!Sukuna

You and sukuna had gone back and forth so much its almost like you forgot yuji was his vessel, almost like you forgot he was the king of curses.

But none of that mattered now you (23) and yuji also of age had comitted to getting drunk and letting loose for once.

Sukuna pays it no mind as you aimlessly flirt with some guy at the bar but your eyes are on him. Not the guy, not yuji but Sukuna who had taken over since yuji was to drunk to fight back.

He could easily burn the world to the ground and nothing could stop him except for the look in your eyes when your tounge trails up his abs to his chest tracing his tattoo that the only fire burning hes worried about is the one in your eyes.

“Id pleasure you in ways no woman in your 1000 years of existance could even think about” i smirk before flipping us over so im on top us still connected by our hips moving my hand from his wrist to his neck making him purr.

——

Dad!Sukuna

More of a drabble aka the 3 times his kids call him daddy and the one time you do.

“Get in the cage!”

“Sukuna stop telling them that! Theres no cage”

“He put fucking smiley faces in my book of incantations” he growls showing me the smiley faces with red eyes, fangs and a crooked smile.

“Oooh he drew you is that why youre mad” i tease watching him seathe as the sound of footsteps running upstairs can be heard smoke nearly comes out of his ears and foam from his mouth.

“As shitty as the smiley face may be he drew it because of you, now stop being such a sourpuss! if you be nice ill even call you daddy and let you give me another little you” i peck his lips listening to the growl of disappointment from pulling away too fast.

“I don’t think i told them how much i love them today” He mumbles pulling me into his lap.

#jjk x black!reader #choso x black!reader #jjk smut #nanami x reader #nanami x y/n #nanami x oc #nanami x black reader #sukuna x reader #sukuna x you #sukuna x oc #sukuna x y/n #sukuna x black reader

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ohnomytummy · 5 months

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Hi, I have a story from this Thanksgiving that I thought this community would like, and I don't have a kink blog to post it to so I'm gonna share it here cause I know your box is always open. Lol

I'm relatively thin, severely underweight for a good chunk of my childhood, have always been poor so I've never gotten to indulge too much in feasting, not in this economy. But long backstory short, I had the house to myself for pretty much 4 days straight for Thanksgiving break, along with all the leftover food from the entire family thanksgiving.. I was asked to toss most of it because we didn't have room in the fridge and it would go bad, but I didn't want any of it to go to waste.. you can probably tell where his is going..

I have a pretty sensitive stomach since I get full pretty quick, and I'm also lactose intolerant and most meat makes me gassy (and sweaty for some reason?), but for some reason none of that mattered to me, I put a YouTube series I've been itching to watch on my phone and munched on everything that was in front of me which included:

-almost half of a turkey that had been sitting out on the table for a day

-a platter of cheese and cube/slice things and pepperoni/some other meat I forgot

-I wanna say maybe 20 small sugar cookies (the puffy Walmart ones with frosting)

-about 2 litres total of a miz of lemonade, sprite, ginger ale, and coca cola

- 5 bread rolls with melted cheese and butter

-uncounted handfuls old candy I still had from Halloween....

I didn't even realize I'd been eating so much, but I guess since it was all over the course of about a day (9 hours-ish?) It was gradual enough that I didn't realize I'd gone overboard until the end. I remember reaching for the next thing getting ready and thinking "wow i wonder how much ive eaten" and seeing that the answer was all of it. I was wearing an elastic tank top, and I looked down and holy shit I looked pregnant. The tank top is kind of long but there was maybe an inch of belly sticking out from underneath naturally, and the tank top itself was like vacuum sealed tight to my skin!

This is where stuff gets crazy. I put my hand on my stomach to rub it and I could feel it churning under my hand, from the inside ofc and through my belly. I'd been burping throughout the whole stuffing absent-mindedly, but now that it was all setting in, I felt like I was going to puke. I couldn't even feel nauseous at first, it was just PAIN in my middle and I could barely get up. I'm so glad I was alone because I was moaning and rubbing my belly with both hands, holding it as I tried to get up. I could feel myself bringing up burps with every exhale, they were like.. soft and quiet but also really deep and sick, coming out with every breath, like "... urrrrrrp.. hic-hurrrrrp... uurppp. ur-urrp... hic-hUuuurrrrrrrrrp..." and with groans after each one lmao. I made my way to the bathroom eventually and sat by the toilet, sure I was gonna be sick, but I wasn't. I almost wanted to be, but I think I was just too scared to puke. So I sat back against the tub, facing the toilet, my whole body was covered in a cold sweat atp and i was rubbing my belly, and I could feel every single rumble as it ripped through my stomach and rose up as a belch. I couldn't stop burping like I was just about crying on the bathroom floor, bloated as a tick, belching helplessly. After a few minutes the burps started slowing down, but they were much more wet when they did come up. I think the meat and lactose was probably digesting now because I actually started to feel queasy. I started holding in my burps in fear that the food might come up, but then the air started xoming out the back. Starting with small short toots, leading to nauseous farts that, much like the burps, WOULDNT STOP. I was uncontrollably farting, small short bursts every few seconds and idk how to describe it but the farts felt pukey somehow. My stomach was churning like crazy and I could hear it from the outside (still felt intense as I rubbed it too). All the while the original belches never really stopped, so I was just on the floor, gas from both ends pouring out. My stomach was so hard and tight it felt like a bowling ball attached to me and my shirt was so tight it was so hot in hindsight but I felt like I was dying in the moment. Anyways I eventually fell asleep on the floor, woke up feeling sick, burped and farted next to the toilet again and tried doing the doggy-style yoga pose (best that I could, anyways, with my bloated upset tummy still filled with rotting undigested Thanksgiving leftovers) and kept farting until out of nowhere I almost shat myself, I think the position I was in moved the air along but the air took some stuff with it, so now I had to abandon that and sit on the toilet with a trash bin next to me because I couldn't fit it between my legs (my tummy took up the room lol) and it was mostly just me being sick from both ends, along with super uncontrollable rumbly burps and farts that just would not ever fucking stop.

Once it was all out things went back to normal, other than me being really gassy for a few more days.

I will let my uh *cough* community have this 😳🥵

#thanksgiving #ask #wowowowowowoeow #your poor poor belly #but also not….whoopsie

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thelordofgifs · 11 months

Text

the fairest stars: post iv

Beren and Lúthien steal two Silmarils, more sons of Fëanor than anyone ever needed or wanted get involved, things go extremely sideways: you know the drill. You can find the first 18 parts of this bullet point fic on AO3 here, and parts 16-20 on tumblr here.

We're starting out part 21 with a timeskip!

One year after the fall of Himring, north Beleriand remains bitterly contested.

The East is overrun. In Barad Eithel's great war-room the map of Estolad is covered in black arrows stretching from Lothlann down to the Andram Wall.

Caranthir and Amras maintain a last stronghold on Amon Ereb, with the people of Himring who fled there after its fall; but Ossiriand, they fear, will only remain undefiled so long as Morgoth's attention does not turn towards it.

Their Eastern allies, too, are unimpressed. Bór and his young sons were all slain not long after Himring burned; the few of their people who escaped the orc-raids have joined themselves to Ulfang in Thargelion, but they are none too friendly to the Fëanorians these days.

"And Nelyo says I'm bad at making allies," Caranthir remarks.

[yeah he's in this now. damn it why will they not stay in their place.]

"I wouldn't say this is Nelyo's fault," Amras says quietly.

It is a debate held, in one form or the other, in every free kingdom in Beleriand.

But anyway, the East does not seem to be Morgoth's main concern for now.

It is Hithlum, Fingon is sure, where the next assault will come.

Hithlum, the realm of the High King of the Noldor; Hithlum, where he reigns who once humilated Morgoth so thoroughly; Hithlum, where Maedhros holds a Silmaril yet.

If the last true stronghold of the Noldor falls—

And he is facing plenty of internal pressure, too.

His lords – many of them survivors of the Grinding Ice, and arch-loyal followers of the House of Fingolfin – are less than impressed by the rumours that have reached them of the fall of Himring, and Maedhros' actions there.

Fingon has tried to quell the whispers as best as he can. But it is impossible to deny the fact that the attack took Himring by surprise because its patrols were cancelled on Maedhros' orders, or that Maedhros left the field as their position worsened.

The healers who treated Maglor's stab wound have not been quiet, either, about the fact that it was an elvish blade that caused the injury.

And some of those who were at Himring have heard that Maglor was found in a pool of his own blood with Maedhros, subdued too late, unconscious beside him—

If only they knew, Fingon thinks furiously, they would not cast sly aspersions on his judgement and his taste in friends. They would not stop talking of anything consequential when Maedhros drew near, as if he is not to be trusted with the secrets of the war.

Of course when he dares to suggest to Maedhros that this might bother him, Maedhros laughs and says, "Finno, do you think this the worst humiliation I have ever endured?"

So. There's not much Fingon can say to that.

His father was a diplomat, a politician, a builder of alliances. Fingon is not doing a very good job of living up to that legacy.

Thingol returned no response to the letter Fingon sent him, informing him of Curufin's disappearance.

In fact, Thingol is kind of just Done.

So the Noldor turned out to be faithless. What else is new?

Also he didn't really want Curufin's head anyway. Where would he even put it?

Fingon cannot give him what he truly wishes for: his daughter.

In Lúthien's absence old age has fallen upon him, who has lived unwithered for long Ages of the Stars since his birth at distant Cuiviénen.

Melian sings no longer. The people of Doriath, who have known little but peace and splendour since the Girdle was first raised, begin to wonder if their blessings have been withdrawn.

So it is a Menegroth much changed into which Beren and Lúthien walk, hand in hand, one afternoon.

Their return is met with both joy and some consternation. Youth comes back to Thingol at the touch of his daughter's hand; but Melian knows that she will never smile again.

Lúthien bears it all, the feasts of celebration at which none can look her in the eye, her father's overwhelming gladness and her mother's sorrow, the halls that ring yet with the memory of her grief, for exactly two weeks; then she announces that she and Beren are leaving.

"Daughter," Thingol protests, "you have only just returned to us – and soon—"

(Thingol does not know how he will ever handle the parting that is to come.)

"Will you not stay?" he asks. "This is your home."

Lúthien is not sure she knows what home means any more.

"I am sorry," she says, regretful but firm.

The next day finds her and Beren walking through Brethil, debating their next course of action – just as they did not so very long ago, when Celegorm and Curufin attacked them in the woods.

It is of that little skirmish that Beren is thinking now.

"They say Curufin is still out there somewhere," he argues. "It mightn't be safe—"

"I sang Morgoth himself to sleep," Lúthien cries, "and you think I can't take Curufin Fëanorion?"

"Tinúviel," Beren says, with a laugh, "I do not think there is anyone you can't take."

Lúthien allows herself to be placated.

"I am not suggesting we dwell alone in the wilderness," she says; "you made your earlier thoughts on that very clear. But I – I cannot go back to being Doriath's Princess, Beren, as if every part of me is not changed irretrievably since first you called my name, as if – as if you didn't die there, and—"

"Sweetheart," says Beren, kissing her forehead. "It wasn't permanent." And when she chokes out a little laugh through her tears, he goes on, "I know you do not wish to stay in Doriath. But we must choose somewhere – and somewhere safe. It seems as though the Enemy's reach has lengthened in the time we were, um, gone."

"I thought to go to Ossiriand," Lúthien says. "My kin the Green-elves still guard those lands."

"But only those lands," says Beren. "Estolad and Thargelion are overrun. The sons of Fëanor keep no watch upon the Eastmarch. If Morgoth were to learn that you dwelled there—"

"I'm not afraid," Lúthien says. "And even if I were – am I never to venture beyond the Girdle again, for fear of him? Is all my father's kingdom to be naught to me but a prison, as Hírilorn was? I cannot stand it – I will not."

Beren takes both her hands in his one and looks at her. "Tinúviel," he says, very seriously, "I will never cage you."

Oh, he knows her. What a wondrous, terrifying thing, to be understood so completely.

Perhaps Lúthien is still a little delirious with the rush of living once more, for she dips her head to capture Beren's mouth in a delighted kiss, and for a time they both forget all other matters.

Plucking strands of grass from her hair some time later, Beren says, "I have another idea."

"What! I thought I argued my case quite passionately," Lúthien teases.

"You said you thought of dwelling among your kin," says Beren. "What of going to mine, instead?" And, when Lúthien shoots him a puzzled look, "The House of Bëor is mostly ruined, but there are still remnants of my people who escaped Dorthonion ere its fall. Some of them dwell nearby, with the Haladin. And others went north to Dor-lómin – my little cousin Morwen is the lady of that land now."

"I do not wish to stay in Brethil," says Lúthien; "it is rather too close to Menegroth for my tastes. But the Land of Echoes, on the other hand..."

Her eyes are alight with that same fanciful gleam they used to get when Beren told her stories of the world outside the Girdle, of holy Tarn Aeluin and the dread Ered Gorgoroth alike.

You would think, Beren muses, that she would have had enough of adventure by now.

"I have," says Lúthien, catching his thought. "We are to live a very peaceful and retiring life. I insist on it! That is what I told Mandos we deserved. None shall dare assail us, in Dor-lómin." She rolls the name on her tongue as if trying to taste it.

"They call it so because of the terrible cry of Morgoth when Ungoliant assailed him," Beren tells her, "not for any sweeter music."

Lúthien laughs and flings her arms around him. Oh, his living body warm and solid against hers! It is a gift she does not intend to waste.

"Luckily," she says, "I am good at changing the melody."

Another conversation between lovers:

"Do you think it could be done?"

“I have already told you what I think.”

"But you haven't explained," Fingon persists, "you have only looked at me dolefully and proclaimed that it is not possible."

"Well, it is not," says Maedhros. He is lying curled in Fingon's arms, their ankles hooked together, and he is loath to disturb their contentment with arguing. Keeping his voice measured, he says, "If our strength were doubled I do not think it would be enough, Finno."

"The attack will come either way," Fingon says, also without much vigour. They have had this debate so many times now that it is become well-worn. "Why not meet it head on?"

"Because you have a defensible position here," Maedhros says patiently, "and a greater chance of holding than you do of storming the gates of Angband."

"My father did it," Fingon mutters.

"Your father died," Maedhros says, voice suddenly sharp.

Fingon looks at him. "Don't look so worried, beloved! I am quite turned off the idea of wasteful heroics these days."

"Then look to strengthening your defences," Maedhros says, "and drop this fool notion."

"But if we did try," says Fingon, "if we united all the Free Peoples under one banner, and marched on Angband together – think what we could achieve!"

His eyes are bright with hope. Maedhros hates to crush it, but crush it he must.

"Finno," he says, "the East is lost. My brothers do not have so strong a position in Amon Ereb that they can afford to march north to join in a war that could prove ruinous. Bór and his people are dead almost to a man. Belegost will no doubt have heard the rumours—"

Fingon glances at him sharply, but he speaks without bitterness. Which is concerning in itself, but Fingon decides to let it slide for now.

"—and there is little help to be expected from other corners," Maedhros continues. "Doriath has strength to spare, but Thingol hates you."

Fingon shifts uncomfortably. He never actually told Maedhros why Thingol hates him now.

"Nargothrond," he says, to change the subject. "Orodreth will answer to his High King."

"Orodreth!" says Maedhros, dismissively. “A king too ruled by the whims of his people. If he had any spine he would have turned my brothers out of Nargothrond immediately, and Finrod might have lived.”

If Fingon were crueller he might say, You didn't manage to control your brothers that well yourself. Instead he says, "But the people of Nargothrond are many and valiant. We should not discount them."

"If Nargothrond wishes to stay out of the wars of the north," says Maedhros, "I think it would be prudent to allow them to do so." There is a thoughtful, uneasy look in his grey eyes.

Fingon gauges it correctly and says, "Are you worried for your nephew?"

Maedhros looks at him unhappily. "Everyone in Beleriand knows what a mess – Curvo – made of – everything," he says.

(A year might have passed, but Maedhros still does not much like to speak of Curufin.)

"Tyelpë is safe in Nargothrond, where his father's deeds cannot taint him," Maedhros says. "I would keep him so." Then he shrugs. "But my opinion carries no weight now, beloved. Do as you will, and I will support you, for all that is worth."

"It carries weight with me," Fingon says fiercely. "And I am not ashamed to say so. But you have not yet heard the key element in my plan."

Maedhros smiles despite himself, propping himself up on his elbows so that he can keep his eyes focused on Fingon's face. The mass of his silken hair is pooled on Fingon's bare chest. "Go on, then," he says, indulgent.

"Gondolin," Fingon says triumphantly. "My brother took a third of our host with him when he disappeared, and yet more of the Sindar went with him. They have lived in peace for more than three hundred years; their numbers must be great."

Maedhros does not seem as delighted with this idea as Fingon is. "Finno, you don't know where Gondolin is."

"The Eagles bring them tidings, clearly," Fingon points out; "else they would have opened the leaguer and come to our aid when they saw the fires of the Dagor Bragollach on the horizon."

Maedhros frowns, attempting to parse this extremely backwards logic. Eventually, he says, "If Hithlum falls, Gondolin will be the last stronghold of the Noldor in the north. I do not know if its position should be risked."

"All war is risk, beloved," says Fingon, "and if I were to call upon my brother, Hithlum will not fall."

Maedhros says, as if he has been saving this blow for last, "Finno, if you call upon Turgon, will he even answer?"

It has been more than three hundred years, since Fingon last saw his brother.

“Do you think he won’t?” he asks, more sharply than he means to.

(Turgon didn’t tell him he was going. He didn’t tell anyone. He just – vanished.)

Sometimes Maedhros thinks things were easier during Maglor’s long convalescence, when his only concern was his brother, when every sleepless night was because Maglor needed someone to sit up with him and every meal was whatever invalid's food Maglor could be persuaded to choke down – when Fingon was his strength and steadiness, and Maedhros could yet wrap his blue cloak around him like armour.

Selfish – selfish. Maglor is better now, and Maedhros is so, so glad; and Fingon cannot always be his strength. Sometimes Maedhros must be his.

"I am sure he will," he says, contrite. He presses a kiss to Fingon's tense jawline. "I just don't think it wise to ask him."

Fingon sighs and puts his arms around Maedhros. "Fine," he concedes. "Perhaps you are right."

But later, when they have extricated themselves from their warm tangle of limbs and risen for the day, he sits down to write a letter.

A few days later the High King's messenger, having ridden swiftly along the Ered Wethrin and into Dor-lómin, nearly collides with a small child playing near the road.

"Be careful!" cries Lúthien, dropping Beren's hand and rushing forward to snatch the child up.

The messenger gapes at her, for it seems to him as though she has materialised out of the shadows themselves. Then, when he gets better look at her beauty, he gapes even more.

Lúthien is not paying attention. All her focus is on the little golden-haired creature in her arms. "That was nearly very dangerous for you, wasn't it, sweetheart?" she coos. "But you don't seem frightened at all. What's your name, dear one?"

The little girl giggles and hides her face in Lúthien's sleeve without answering.

Beren feels a little dizzy, looking at the picture that they make, and at the bright tender look on his wife's face. Someday, he tells himself, someday.

He looks around. The messenger has dismounted; it seems the great house up ahead is his destination. A house of lords, clearly, surrounded by gardens as lovely as any in the chilly northlands, and with a bubbling stream running just past its walls.

Well, here they are.

He is pondering what the etiquette is here – should they knock? wait here until someone spots them? – when he catches sight of a second child, a little older, dark-haired, watching them intently from around a tree-trunk.

"Good day, lad," Beren says gravely. "Might I ask your name, and those of your parents?"

The boy regards him with suspicion for a while, before he finally says, "I am Túrin son of Húrin, and that is my sister Lalaith."

(One little-appreciated consequence of the fall of Himring: for the last year, Morgoth's attention has been on the final desecration of the March of Maedhros. He did not have time to send the Evil Breath to Dor-lómin.)

"Lalaith!" Lúthien says, delighted. "What a fitting name."

"Then, son of Húrin," says Beren, "we have reached our destination indeed. Might you do me the honour of introducing us to your parents?"

Túrin looks unimpressed. "Who are you?" he asks.

"My name is Beren son of Barahir," says Beren, "and we are kinsmen, son of Morwen."

Túrin frowns even more. "How do you know my mother's name?" he demands. "And Beren is dead."

Kind of hard to argue with that.

Before Beren can come up with a suitable response there is a small noise from the direction of the house: the children's mother has come out to call them in for the evening meal. She stands so still she might be made of stone, were it not for the wind whipping up her dark hair behind her.

Beren finds his own mouth is very dry.

He buried Baragund his cousin, and avenged him; and he has not thought of his slaughtered companions for a long time.

(There's only so much survivor's guilt one person can have, and it is usually the screams of Finrod and his Ten that haunt Beren's nightmares.)

Morwen is not now the thirteen-year-old he remembers, her face sterner and more sorrowful, but somehow she is the image of her dead father.

"Hello, little cousin," he croaks out.

Morwen stares at him.

Lúthien comes to the rescue. "You must be the lady Morwen," she says warmly, setting Lalaith down so that she can drop into a graceful curtsey. Her Taliska is hesitant, but beautiful. (Everything about Lúthien is beautiful.) "Beren has told me so much of you. And your children are charming."

"Beren's dead," Morwen says at last, shakily. "And – you—"

"I was dead," says Beren, "but now I'm not. I don't know how to explain it, cousin, but—" He holds his hand out to her, letting the Ring of Barahir gleam green upon his finger in the setting sun. "It really is me."

Morwen makes another small sound, swaying where she stands. Her hand rests on her son's dark head as though he is the only thing keeping her upright.

"Mother?" Túrin says nervously.

Before things can get any more awkward the lord of the house comes out to seek his family, perhaps wondering what is taking them so long. "Morwen," he says quietly, seeing her stiff posture.

But Morwen takes a breath. "We have guests, Húrin," she says, composed again. "This is my kinsman Beren Erchamion, and his – and his wife, the Princess of Doriath."

Lúthien turns her dazzling smile on Húrin. "A pleasure to meet you," she says gaily. "But call me rather the Lady of Dorthonion."

(to be continued)

#silmarillion #my fic #bullet point fic #the fairest stars #beren #luthien #fingon #maedhros #russingon #here we gooo!!#very excited for where we're going with this arc #this thing definitely needs more editing but I lost patience so have it now #say hi to a bunch of new characters (more are coming later too)#and a new set of political problems #also guess who DOESN'T appear here for the first time in 21 parts I'm as shocked as you are #(he'll be back next time dw)#also nobody died or got stabbed or had a breakdown or got nearly executed or like. even stubbed their toe here so BE GRATEFUL

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meowjunjun · 8 months

Note

i just saw the maverick younghoon post and yessssss!!! when i first saw it i literally had to pause for a min. just imagine bondage with sub!younghoon 🥴🥴🥴 him just twitching under your slightest touch because that poor baby is so overstimulated 😞 ALSOOOOO THE LINKS AGAIINNN!!! i am loving them! younghoon's one was just 😫

and lastly, can i be the 🎀 anon because i think i will be a regular visitor here (the previous hak ask was also me 🫣)

Omg yes ofc you can be!! BUT YES also why did we have the exact same reaction like I was in shock for like 5 minutes just sitting there LMFAOOO but anywayssss I hope u enjoy!! Thank you again for the ask 🫶🫶🫶!! IM SO SORRY THIS TOOK SO LONG AND DIDNT EVEN COME OUT GOOD IVE BEEN SO BUSY

Your close friend Younghoon had always intimidated those who didn’t know him; his looks were quite the contrast from his shy, cute, and innocent self. But you were an assertive, authoritative person; and your favorite thing about innocent boys was how easy it was to corrupt them.

Perhaps it was all a part of your plan from the minute you met him; your body practically burned with the desire to be against his. So you found yourself getting closer and closer with him, learning his strengths and weaknesses, what makes him tick and what makes him break.

After a while of being his friend, he eventually admitted he had no sexual experience, which made you find yourself craving him even more. He was ashamed, but you reassured him it was nothing to feel that way about. During the conversation, you briefly mentioned how you do have sexual experience; it seemed to make him flustered, and you pretended to not notice it. You knew what you were doing and smiled to yourself.

Over the next few days, there was a strange ache between his thighs. It always happened when he found himself thinking of what you said, how you’ve “done stuff” with guys in the past. He found himself thinking of you in all these dirty scenarios, thinking of how it would feel if it was him. He tried so hard to brush the thoughts off, feeling guilty of how a simple conversation did this to him.

Younghoon knew about masturbation of course. It seemed like everyone but him did it. He just never felt the need to.

That was until he talked with you the next time you came to his house.

——————————————————————————The next time you invited him over he was nervous. He was always nervous and intimidated around you, but this time was different. There was a pit in his stomach, a really obvious blush on his cheeks, and not to mention the way his cock was so hard it hurt.

The thoughts continued worsening until he found himself not being able to think straight. The whole time you were over his house he was quiet and avoiding eye contact, tugging his hoodie over his crotch. Every time you tried to start a conversation with you he just responded with “oh yeah” or “mhm”, lost in his thoughts.

Eventually you got tired of playing dumb. “Younghoon, do I make you nervous?” He instantly looked up at you, a cute yet anxious look, as he whimpers quietly. He looks around rapidly, eyes darting across the room as he’s silent, realizing the noise he accidentally let out.

Something snaps in him, and he runs to the bathroom with his hand over his mouth in shock. God, you were so hot. For some reason the way he practically feared you made his body burn up. He was throbbing so hard, he could barely even make it into the bathroom before fumbling with his belt.

He was instantly jacking himself off rapidly, moaning like a whore. As ashamed as he was, he had never felt this much need in his life. It felt so good, like nothing he had ever felt before; but he knew it wouldn’t be enough. He just wanted you to use him, mock him, make him feel disgusting.

You almost instantly followed him to the bathroom, moans getting louder and louder as you approached. You lightly knocked on the door, yet he didn’t stop. You try the door knob and sure enough, it’s unlocked due to him being too focused on his need.

“What the hell has gotten into you??” You ask, as he chokes out “M’ sorry- ah- can’t cum.. mmf- needs to be you..”. You scoff at him as you mock “Aww poor thing, you want me that bad? Oh I’ll make you cum alright, how does that sound?” He eagerly nods his head, the stuck-up tone in your voice making his brows furrow even more as he obediently following you back to his bedroom.

——————————————————————————

Younghoon didn’t know how it got to this point. All he knew was to take what he was given. His wrists were tied to the bed frame by your lacy panties, and his clothes strewn about on the floor. He was fully exposed and vulnerable for you. His breathing was heavy as he anticipated the first touch of your hand.

You place your thumb and index finger into a tight “O” shape, and slide it down onto his leaky tip. It causes him to whine out as he winces, a pretty noise. Your hand was squeezing him perfectly, so hot around him. You slowly start to stroke him, and coo “you like that, yeah hoon?” He struggles to speak “mh- y-yeah, wan’ more..please?”

You smile to yourself, planning on the way of by the end of this he’ll be saying the exact opposite. “Well how could I say no when you ask so politely hm?” You start stroking him, his cock painfully hard with how neglected it’s been lately. He realized how he was even more sensitive, probably due to not touching himself he presumed.

Every movement of your hand made whimpers pour from his lips, hips thrusting up into your hand. All be could say to you was how good it felt, babbling incoherently. You knew it wouldn’t be hard to make him lose his mind when he was already this sensitive.

You could tell he was getting close, with the way he was throbbing in your palms. “M’ gonna- too good…” to which you reply “aww poor baby, you’re gonna cum this quick?”. He looks apologetic as he mumbles “m’ sorry, your hands are just s’ warm-“ he starts moaning really loudly, red tip all leaky with precum as he twitches.

“Okay hoon, cum for me like a good boy okay?”

And with that he’s instantly spilling all over his abs, leaving a puddle of his sticky cum. The way he cums looks almost painful, the way he’s scrunching his face and tugging at the restraints. But he just keeps on moaning like a bitch in heat, cumming so hard he can barely breathe.

But just as he thinks it’s over, you keep going; as he finishes cumming you wrap your lips around his sensitive swollen tip, making his whole body squirm. “Wait wait m’ still sensitive- nonono-“ tears prick his eyes, his body not able to keep still as he struggles against the panties keeping him from getting away from your torture.

You take his whole cock in your mouth, hollowing out your cheeks and pressing him up against your tongue. He’s pretty much moaning in pain now, full on sobbing violently and hips stuttering all over the place. You take your mouth off of him with a pop, and he’s nearly hyperventilating from how hard he’s crying. Even though he’s so sensitive and can’t handle the sensation, the second your mouth is off of him he’s crying even harder and rutting his hips up towards you.

“Aww poor baby doesn’t want me to stop huh?” He shakes his head, lower lip all wobbly and pouty. “Don’t worry sweet boy, I’ll make you cum until you’re shooting dry, how does that sound?”

Before he gets a chance to answer or protest, you sink back down on his dick until your nose is touching his pubic bone and he’s instantly back to crying. “A- ah too much- can’t… m’ gonna cum again, please sto-“ his sentence is cut off by him letting out a loud cry. He shoots his load into your mouth, feet kicking and hips rutting into your mouth a final time; trying to bury himself as deep in your throat as he can.

You can feel how wildly he’s throbbing on your tongue, your mouth all sticky as his glassy eyes are shut tight. But still, you keep going. You suck him off with so much pressure, your throat too tight for him to handle. “Hoon, if you really think we’re done then you’re in for a long night.”

#sub!idol #dom reader #sub idol #sub kpop #sub tbz #sub the boyz #sub younghoon #younghoon smut #the boyz hard hours #tbz smut

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maximotts · 2 years

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hiya motts!

i wanted to share a scenario ive been thinking abt lately,, and it's just where you and wanda build a pillow fort together and just snuggle or read books together inside, i honestly think it's pretty cute and cozy & i couldn't stop thinking abt it recently hshshswhs 💞

anw thx for listening! i hope ure havin a great day <33

(also i was also wondering if i could be 🍊 anon by any chance if thats fine with u !)

HELLO IM HERE WITH THE FIC! Thank you lil orange for this adorable little idea and I'm sorry I've taken so long to reply!! Again this is unedited because I started typing words and didn't stop so uhm.. we'll just go with it

words: 1.5k

wanda maximoff x reader; fluff, just some coziness with our fave post-AoU gal, emo Wanda, pillow forts, mentions of HYDRA/Wanda's sad childhood, crushes no one will admit while Pietro plays the background matchmaker

“I can make whatever fort you want in two seconds, you know? I could build it in front of you even…” Wanda trudged down the stairs with more pillows from who knows where, grabbing as many as she could because you’d insisted on maximum pillowy softness, whatever that meant.

You popped out with a gasp, your head poking from under a disorderly pile of blankets and couch cushions. “That’s not fun, Wanda! Doing it ourselves is the only way to go.” Wiggling out from under the mess you’d made in the living room, you took some of the pillows from her… only to dump them in a new pile next to your current one. “Gotta stay organized for the build!”

Wanda huffed at the sight, wondering how you were going to make sense of your building materials, if you could really call them that. She let you pull her along, but as you started placing cushions here and there, Wanda just stood still, admittedly lost on how to even start.

After a few minutes of waiting around, you realized Wanda hadn’t taken even one step and you frowned at her. “It’ll go faster if you help me.”

“I don’t really…” The brunette dropped her eyes to the blankets at her feet, rubbing her arm nervously. She’d never really made blanket forts; they were on TV and she knew the general idea, but growing up orphaned in a war-torn country meant she was lucky if she and Pietro had one single blanket from night to night. With HYDRA, there was no such thing— life was only her cell and the experimentation chamber until she got her powers and once she did, she was watched 24/7, given things to hold only when Strucker was around to instruct her what to do with them. She hadn’t been in America long and after the Ultron incident, she had to keep a low profile which meant going out, making friends, exploring her new surroundings was off limits.

Pietro was great at making friends with his new teammates, gaining their trust quickly, but Wanda had been in their heads and for that they were rightfully wary. Not mean, but she didn’t get invited to outings nearly as much as her twin— being mostly quiet didn’t help, not when she preferred sitting and watching others instead of taking the leap and joining in. For all her powers, an outgoing nature was not one of them; that was always Pietro’s thing. You were his friend first too, hanging out with him at meals and after missions, but unlike most of the others, you talked to her as well. Even if you found her without her silver-haired brother, you still waved at Wanda or sat next to her and asked about her day.

And so she started gravitating towards you as well, seeking you out if she wanted company or a break from Pietro’s non-stop rambling. Sometimes the two of you were silent and others Wanda opened up, asking you questions about your home or teaching you about hers. That’s how you learned just how little she’d had the opportunity to do and when you’d resolved to give her those experiences, no matter how small.

Which is also how you’d become familiar with the look Wanda wore now, unsure and retreating in an attempt not to appear upset or uncomfortable. You weren’t a mind reader, but somehow in your short time together, you’d grown to know her well. “There’s no right way to do it, I promise. Here, you can help me lay the foundation.”

You took her hand and brought her around to the half-constructed ‘foundation,’ a layer of thick couch cushions Wanda recognized from Natasha’s room. “Isn’t she going to miss these?”

“We’re going to give them back. Also, that woman never rests. I doubt she’s ever used that couch,” You shrugged, leaving out the part that this was not your first time taking your teammate’s furniture. Wanda thankfully didn’t argue, instead following your lead and laying out various cushions until it reached out multiple feet from the edge of the couch. “Now, true building begins!”

Wanda helped you arrange stacks of pillows into makeshift walls, drape sheets over sides of the couch, even had the great suggestion of grabbing a long baton from the training room for a true tented feel. She didn’t realize she was smiling until her face hurt, tossing a square pillow at you as you joked about her lopsided drapery skills. “You said there’s no right way! This is my way and I think it looks… just fine!”

“Right right, we’ll see how long it stays up then.” She finally understood what you meant when you said maximum softness as you started throwing pillow after pillow against the floor of the fort, making such a thick place to lay on, Wanda was afraid she’d never want to get up when she sat down.

The two of you took a step back to gaze upon your handiwork and truly, Wanda couldn’t help but feel proud at what she’d done. “Building it ourselves was fun.”

You turned to look at Wanda, her small smile as she looked at the fort making your heart swell. Seeing her happy, even if it was just for an afternoon, was always the highlight of your day especially if it was something you’d done together. “Told you so! The most fun part is enjoying the fruits of our labor though,” You grabbed the snacks the two of you had chosen earlier and ducked under the fort cover, settling in with Wanda right on your heels.

She chose to sit right next to you, close enough that she could promptly lean her head on your shoulder. Thankfully Wanda remembered the remote and the movies you’d planned to watch because as she toggled through the various screens, you were still frozen with the shock of her laying against you. She smelled so sweet, you wanted to cry or hug her or anything to keep her close like this forever. So many weeks ago, Wanda made a passing comment on affection, casually mentioning how she valued physical touch in reminding her loved ones that she cares. When you pointed out how little you’d seen her touch anyone, Wanda’s face instantly fell.

My only family is Pietro and the others, well… I don’t think most of them trust me enough to let me close to them, much less touch or hold their hand.

You’d assured her then you weren’t afraid of her, that you would never shy away from her for something meant to be a kind gesture. She said thank you and that she appreciated your honesty and that was that before she switched to a completely different topic of conversation. Since then, you’d noticed every time Wanda squeezed Pietro’s arm or gave him a hug after returning and while you understood her hesitancy, you found you were a little jealous. You wanted to know what it felt like to be on the receiving end of Wanda’s affection, yearned for it even, but you’d never voice such a thing.

So this, today, whatever resting her head on you meant, you felt as though you could melt right into the floor. Pietro made you swear not to say a word, but learning of how much she talked about you, that she didn’t think you were annoying or pushy, but instead a welcome comfort, was the most pride you’d ever felt in your time being an Avenger. If you could spend the rest of your days showing Wanda your favorite things and helping her find some of her own, you’d be overjoyed.

“Your thoughts are loud again.” Wanda looked at you quizzically, turning her head to search your expression.

“W-What—” She swore not to read anyone’s mind without permission anymore; but she’d told you if someone thought really intensely, she couldn’t help but sense it. Just like hearing a conversation as you walk down the street, it wasn’t something she could stop. This wasn’t the first time Wanda had called you out for your loud brain, mortifying each time you realized your feelings for her were overwhelming again.

She never told you what she could hear, scared you might panic if you were aware she could particularly tell whenever your thoughts uttered her name. It was fine, she could wait patiently until you were ready to tell her about your crush yourself and she could say she liked you right back. “If you’re thinking about my side of the fort, don’t. Shut up and watch the movie.”

#🍊 anon.#I hope that this is a fun pillow fort movie night adventure!#wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff x fem!reader #wanda maximoff x f!reader #wanda maximoff fic #wanda maximoff fluff #wanda maximoff imagine #marvel imagine #maximotts #motts writes.

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zorosq · 11 months

Text

crazy in love ; vinsmoke sanji

↻ stalker sanji, modern au, obsessive/possessive behavior, established relationship, hes crazy in short, grammatical errors (?)

↻ pairing ↬sanji x fem!reader!

anonymous asked: heyy how are u doing? i'm a lil late but i saw your post about dark fic requests so i can't help but let you know about the idea of stalker sanji that have been plaguing my mind recently, nothing crazy or intense but a lil possessive ??

tbh i got this idea while listening to mark chapman by maneskin and the image just can't leave my mind. it's a great song btw check it out for inspiration

or feel free to ignore this if it makes you uncomfortable. have a nice day <;33

a/n AHHH IVE BEEN THINKING THE SAME THING FOR A WHILE 😭 (sanji definitely got that possessive stalker vibe) also i just realized that my sanji fics has the most "love" title 😭

he’s really not crazy. he’s just... really in love with you. that’s what he kept telling himself.

he just felt the need to protect you from the dark. from any danger. he’s just trying to protect you. that was what he told himself when he followed you home, unknown to you. sanji made sure to planned everything smoothly.

when he first laid his eyes on you, he decided that it was fate. that you were bound to be his. so he made his plans despite the small rational part telling him that it’s stupid and crazy. but oh... how in love he is with you. he just couldn’t help it.

he made sure to stalk you for a few months before deciding that it was finally the right time to show himself. to introduce himself to you.

he really liked it - talking to you made him happy. his stalking didn’t stop right there. he got more obsessed with you. he fell in love harder.

so when he saw someone flirting with you, he almost lost his patience.

after that small incident, he decided to get closer to you even more. everything went well for him. he just could tell that you too, were slowly falling for him. he liked your flustered face a lot.

“y/n-san, you’re so cute when you’re all shy,” he chuckled as he continued to wash the dishes. “all right, you two lovebirds. please spare us from whatever that is going on between you two,” usopp perched, sighing heavily as he watched the two of you.

“leave them be. it’s the only way the pervert cook would stay quiet,” zoro butts in. his words made sanji glared at the green-head but he didn’t say a word. this only made zoro smirked in response.

you said your goodbyes to the boys before making a beeline towards your bedroom. you sat on your bed, sighing heavily. “what’s got you so down, y/n?” nami asked, raising one of her eyebrows. you looked at her and smiled tiredly. “it’s nothing, really. i just felt like i’m being watched lately. when i’m sleeping or just relaxing... it’s getting to me,” you said in a distress tone.

“you should go and see a doctor. maybe it’s because you’ve been tired lately. ask them if they could give you sleeping pills,” nami recommended. “yeah, i might just do that,”

“well,” nami clapped her hands together and smiled. “thank you for having us for over, we had fun,” she smiled before getting out of your bedroom. you lie down in bed, sighing before your eyes drift shut.

after everyone had left, sanji was the only one who stayed behind. he is your boyfriend after all. he wanted to make sure that you’re safe.

he sat on your bedside, brushing your hair out of your face. he smiled gently at you, caressing your cheek in a gentle manner. “when will you acknowledge the fact that i’m the only one who can love you like this...”

“i’m the only one who can keep you safe and happy...”

#op sanji #black foot sanji #black leg sanji #sanji #sanji x reader #sanji x you #vinsmoke sanji x y/n #vinsmoke sanji x you #vinsmoke sanji #vinsmoke sanji x reader #one piece character #one piece #one piece fanfiction #one piece scenario #oneshot

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rinbowaman · 1 year

Text

His and Her Perspectives - Chapter 3 (18+ Only)

So sorry for the delay. I wanted to get this to you guys before I head out to run some errands, been pretty busy the last few days. This was edited and somewhat partially drafted into completion, however, it is not at all proofread or checked over for errors so please excuse all of that. When i get time tonight, i'll look it over and fix any errors that exist. but for now, enjoy the read!

Pairing: Ooohohohohoho you know who. ;)

Warnings: Yes, this is like pure smut, the whole chapter. Not at all for anyone under the age of 18, so minors please ignore this post. As per usual, the smut is very descriptive, and some curse words. Just the standard stuff. But still a good read if you're trying to get in the mood or an idea of what car sex is like with MGR/MRE/HHP Heeseung ;)

Next chapter is also going to be fully smut-ish so for those of you that live for smut, stay tuned.

The surprise i have in store for you guys will be posted later, i just wanted to get this chapter out because ive been on and off working it for the last few days and I am just ready to get it out so i can work on the next one.

Summary:

Summer was swinging by faster than you could enjoy it. Emily and the girls thought of ways on how to dedicate the remainder of the break to make the most out of the last couple of months and enjoy the season to its fullest. That was when they thought of a nice trip into the valley with the boys, a mass get-together where we could all enjoy each other’s company and have game night at a rental.

It didn’t take long for the girls to find a large home at a decent daily rate, located near one of the famous vineyards in the country. The boys all thought the trip was a good idea and even offered to take charge of the barbeque, much to Emily and the girl’s delight.

You could tell Heeseung liked the idea of the trip, even though he maintained his usual habit of remaining calm, quiet, and sitting with his arms crossed, merely giving a simple nod and half a smirk when Jake turned to ask him if he was excited about the trip.

After a few days, you all had prepared and packed up for an early departure. The drive was long, nearly four and a half hours into the valley, everyone agreed to leave early in the morning while it was still dark out, hoping to mitigate the risk of getting stuck in traffic. Much to the boy’s dismay, the girls dictated that the carpool-maintained gender integrity, mainly so that they could enjoy each other’s company and catch up on daily gossip while they boys spend some quality time themselves.

Witnessing the dictation of transportation assignment, you noted Heeseung’s lowering tilt of the chin as his hat hovered and casted a shadow to cover more than just his eyes. He didn’t like the idea of making a long drive without you being beside him, not because he was the clingy type, it was more so because he had planned on taking the opportunity to rest you on his lap and tightly embracing you.

Though the feeling was mutual, you felt deep down that traveling separately was for the better. Based off the last time you sat on his lap, you both found that it was a prime position for one of your many sexual episodes.

It was on a Friday evening, you and Heeseung decided to go the movie theater. Arriving fairly early, he parked his car near the back end of the lot where it was secluded and sparse, just so you both could have some privacy to talk and freely display your affection without having to worry about exposing yourselves to people passing by. The windshield overlooked the wide shopping center across the street, with the glittering lights that decorated the shops, and the pleasant view of shoppers mingling from afar, the view produced a wholesome charm of simplistic night life.

Admiring the view, you felt a piece of your hair being tucked away as Heeseung continued to admire your profile. You shyly chucked towards his lovely notion, which only invigorated him more.

Once you both had walked in, found your seating, and watched as the movie began, the moment the beginning credits displayed the main roles was when you lost all interest in the original event. The feeling in your gut proved to be too distracting after the moment in the car. You became stimulated by the act of him moving your hair aside as he peeked at you with one visible eye from underneath his cap.

Making sure to hide it within the hair that framed your face, you glanced over to see that even though Heeseung was facing the screen, you could tell that the sexual tension was building up by the way he kept bouncing his leg. His hat that traditionally covered his eyes, gave his face more shadow from the dimmed lighting inside the theater, it made it hard to tell if he was looking at the screen or possibly gazing at something else while facing it.

His elbow propped up on the arm of the seat, as his face slightly resting against his hand, you took visual notice of the way he had his index delicately placed on his lips, brushing it back and forth gently, occasionally dragging the skin with it as he revealed a subtle display of teeth. Moving your eyes back forward, the tingling sensation grew stronger and even though you tried hiding it by crossing your arms over your chest, the depths of each breath you took was too steep, the inclining rise of your breast was too noticeable. Unsure of how to remedy the situation at a public setting, you both sat there in silence as the movie continued playing. When suddenly you heard Heeseung stand out of his chair.

Two steps in, your view of the screen is blocked by Heeseung, casually standing in front of your crossed legs and extending a hand to you. He doesn’t say a word.

You look up to see that the bill of his cap, along with the effects of the lack of lighting, aggrandized the shadow over his face, leaving only his lips to remain visible, along with the hazy side smirk it formulated. Grabbing his hand, you realized how much the tension was affecting him when you felt the weight of his pull nearly levitated you off your seat. It was so sudden, the way your body lost contact with the cushion as your legs caught up with the movement to keep you from falling over. His grip on your hand was welded.

After straightening your posture, his free hand moves up, and you stood admiring the mask of shadow that his face wore, as he gently fixes your hair with the tips of his fingers. Beginning at your hairline, you felt the light touch of his skin as his fingers pinched a small amount of hair as he delicately relocates it to the side and tucks it behind your ear. The tips gently wrap’s the piece around and behind your helix, where they remained for a second before dragging along the skin behind your ear until they encountered your earring.

He rests the dangle on his index, admiring the butterfly trinket attached. Afterwards, he continues the trailing movement of said finger, letting the earring fall from its rest as he traces your partially exposed jawline inwards towards your chin, where he used his thumb and inner knuckle to nourish a faint hold. Committing to another favorite habit of his, you felt his thumb extend its reach and brush over your lips, from center moving outwards as he rests it on the outer corner, composing small light strokes.

Heeseung synthesized many habits that reciprocated his sentiment towards you, one being his usual and most displayed act in moving, playing, or fixing your hair to amplify the exposure of your face, mainly your eyes, as evident from his showering verbiage expressing his fondness when admiring them. The second habit was the stroking and brushing of your lips.

Of all his habits, there was one that he frequently committed, at least once a day. It was his penchant for facial contact, with or without kissing permitted. Every day when you were on your way to your next class, Heeseung would do the same and walk in your direction. Regardless, it had only been a couple of hours that he hadn’t seen you, it was obvious that you were indefinitely on his mind.

Once you found yourself breaching his presence close enough to ask him how his morning classes were going, he carried his usual trait of withholding a verbal response. Instead, he’d raise a hand to push the bill of his cap up, revealing a raised eyebrow that gave him a confident expression. The tilting of his bill is followed by him placing the same hand on the back of your head, administering a slight grab of hair as he would pull your face in to meet his, nose to nose. The groove of your lips is met with his, but not in the form of a kiss, just touch. He would angle his forehead inward and flutter his lashes against your own, initiating butterfly kisses as he formed his tenacious smirk against your lips, leading to a dual chuckle that you give to each other.

In the theater, you continue to be the canvas of his thumb strokes as he savored every precise detail of your face. Using the grip he had on you, he turns and walks you out of the building, across the wide lot, and back to his car, not a word is spoken from him. With only the view of his broad shoulders, you catch yourself admiring his lethal frame from the back, watching his tall stature as he moves closer to the car with his arm extending backwards as he maintains the grip of your hand, trailing you behind. The wispy length of his hair barely extends pass the nape, faintly touching the back of his collar. No matter the angle you viewed him in, you couldn’t help but find him irresistible.

His pace slows as he reaches the back seat door, opening it, he pulls you by his grip and swings you around to face him. While maintaining the grip, he swings his hand around your backside, bending your arm by the elbow as it is pinned to your lower back, fingers intertwined with each other’s. He pulls you in and kisses you, just a small kiss, but ever so tender like the others. He nods you to get inside the backseat.

Once you slid in, you shift down to the window seat next opposite of the one you had just entered through. He follows in after you, positioning himself on the center seat with his legs widespread, each foot placed behind the two front seats. He faces in your direction, slightly leans over to kiss you once more. You feel his hands roaming from your breasts down to the smallest part of your waist and with utter ease, you’re surprised at his strength as he lifts you, only releasing a single deep moan and breath into your mouth as he picks you up, shifting your backside during movement so that it was facing him as he positioned you on his lap.

The feeling of sitting on Heeseung’s lap became one of your favorite sensations in the world. The moment he rests you on his lap, his hands drag from your waist, and down to your hips as he presses you down against his crotch, enforcing you to feel an overwhelming and pleasurable pressure from the back. As your back arches, your head tilts back against his, you feel him pressing his nose and lips against the soft skin at your nape, burrowing his soft kisses.

His hands that rests on your hips begin to set the pace for your hips to move along with. Pushing and pulling you to a rocking motion, the arch in your back simulates oceanic waves as the back of your head remains resting against his forehead. The soft kisses on your nape transition into a passionate massage as you feel his tongue becomes involved and traces small circles with each wet, and suckling kiss he leaves. You feel him inhaling the scent of your perfume that you applied on the base of your neck, with his face attached to your nape, he enjoys each whiff he takes in. Just as you relish feeling the air he pulls in with his nostrils against your skin, your body slight jolts out of shock at the feeling of his teeth gently nibbling, following by the caressing of his tongue. Concentrating at the center, his oral performance migrates over to the side of your throat as he pulls you in closer, your back fully meets his chest and your head rests on his shoulder as he burrows his face in the nook of your neck.

The motion of your body does not stop, in fact, it continues with a stronger pace as you begin to feel his hips thrusting upwards against your derriere, syncing with the moment your hips roll down on him. His eagerness is evident by his desire to increase the pace, but you use the weight of your hips to suppress each thrust to tease him a little. Not being able to take it, he reaches down and lifts the flare of your skirt up, pinning it to your pelvis with his other hand as he maintains a grip on you. He pulls down your panties, they nearly rip off from his eager ardor had it not been you lifting one leg to feed through it, salvaging the lace material as it drapes and falls on the other leg, collecting in a ring around your ankle.

Accomplishing the goal of getting your sensitive bud exposed, you feel the cold air greeting the skin in between the two folds. The sensation is followed by the pressure of his fingers as he reaches over your thigh and rubs his tips in circular motion against your clit, afflicting gentle taps with his rubbing motion. The moans that rush out your mouth are both soft and harsh as each gasp takes your breath away. The beat of your heart speeds up, pounding against your chest plate, feeling as if it will explode.

Commencing the last rub, he cups you as his middle finger is injected into your opening. Your moves speed up as you feel your mouth drying up from the consistent moaning and gasping, you’re committed to. Once he felt that he has acquired the first phase of your desire, he sticks his index in to join his middle, feeling the fluid of your arousal gushing out, coating each finger.

The arm around your waist tightens, and you feel him pulling you even closer as he thrusts his fingers in and out of you. Each moment they thrust in, you feel him lifting you upwards as the base of his palm pushes against your base, shifting your weight upwards. Your head surpasses his shoulders, and your chest extends higher, nearly reaching his face as you feel his lips softly pecking below your collarbone.

The sound of skin-to-skin contact is promoted by the heavy moisture flowing in and out as his fingers manipulate the pace and your movements. Just when you feel as though you can’t take enough, his fingers thrust in deep, and remain still. You feel them waving inside you as he massages the interior flesh of your cavity, effectuating unanticipated moans to burst out from your lips as your body wallops upwards from the overwhelming sensation.

Slowly, he slides his fingers out. The sound of his zipper and button coming undone, along with your exhausting pants fills the hollowness of the stagnant car. Feeding through the opening of his briefs, you feel the warmth of his shaft and the tip graze in between your thighs. It is soft, dry, and smooth, it feels gentle and similar to baby skin as it rubs against your skin.

Your head rests on his shoulder. Nose, eyes, and lips facing the window as the side of your cheek and neck is decorated by the hair sticking on to the faint bit of sweat that glazed your skin. From the corner of your eye, you watch as his strong, and large hand grabs the base of his shaft. His long fingers wrapped around the thickness of his diameter, which was so thick that in fact, compared to it his notoriously large hand almost appeared smaller in size.

With his firm grab at the base, he extends the length perpendicularly, the tip eyeballing the roof of the car. A shiver travels from your toes, along your spine, and to the back of your neck as the size of his penis intimidates you. It didn’t get much better as you kept gazing at it, the more you had looked, the larger it seemed to appear. You kept your face off to the side and squint them shut as you prepare yourself for penetration, knowing it’s about to come as you feel the skin of his tip inching closer to your folds.

He guides the tip to rub in between the skin, up and down. He coats the muscle with the wetness that escaped you during his earlier performance, and before you know it, the sound swirling sound of wet skin swooshing against one another returns. The sound takes over your gasps as they die down from the break.

The sudden feeling of his face burrowing into the nook of your neck went unappreciated as you didn’t get the chance to apprize the feeling due to his entry that followed immediately after. The combination of his open lips against your neck, breathing out semi-harshly and the tip of his nose pressing into you right below your ear, enshrined the severity of his penetration. You felt the hot air from his breathing coating your neck, it condensates your skin as you feel drips of moisture trinkling down to your collarbone. The sharpness of his entry can’t be ignored, but the feeling of his face on your skin helped in distracting you from the pain, even though it was only slightly.

The sound and feeling of the vibration in his voice as he gasps and grunts into your neck takes you over the edge as he simultaneously thrusts in and out. He starts of deep but slow, going in, pulling out, just as the tip is edging its exit, only for him to thrust back in deeper than before. The feeling of pressure and being filled shrills you, it’s a feeling you’ve never experienced before he came into your life. It was overpowering, both enjoyable and painful.

The movement of your body shifting upwards became more prominent than before when he used his fingers. His hips bucking up into you dramatized the elevation of your weight. The moans were replaced with cries of immense stimulation as each thrust incites your muscles, causing them to contract and shake, ridding more moisture than before as it gushes out, only to be thrusted back in.

The feeling of his chest permanently attached to your back provided a feeling of comfort and safety. He felt so broad and hard, the width of your shoulders was not even half of his. Your hands rest on the sides of his seated hips, desperately trying to find something to latch on to from the excitement of the sting and ecstasy convulsing in your body. All you could feel was the smoothness of the faux leather seat, the flat surface giving you nothing. The feature of the newly modeled car allotted for the seat belt latches to remain hidden and tucked in between seats, to maintain a slick aesthetic appeal, which had ultimately work against you as you couldn’t dig them out with just your fingertips.

Desperate as the quivering sensation takes over your body, you reach up and grab on to his arm that remained steadfast and wrapped around your waist. You felt the muscles of his forearm as he slightly pushed you down each time he thrusted, then lift you when he partially exited. Upon feeling you reaching up and grabbing onto his arm, it propelled him to increase the pace, he burrows his face in deeper to the nook of your neck, causing his cap to fall completely off his head.

His soft hair cushions against the straight edge of your jawline. His heated gasps are now accompanied with soft kisses, the sensitivity of the skin on your neck shivers upon receiving them. The arm around your waist remains steady, even tightened as the pace grew, while his other hand rests on your inner thigh, gently applying pressure to maintain the spread of your legs. His fingertips tapping your skin every so often when your cries became harsh and out of breath.

“Uh! Baby. Fuck!” He states in between his gasps.

“You’re so damn beautiful, I’m so fucking lucky I get to be the one to do this to you.” The more he spoke in his low and calm tone, the more you felt yourself gushing out the natural essence of your body, which only promoted him to thrust in and out with ease.

“Fuck baby, keep getting wet for me, makes it easier to fuck you. You’re so fucking tight.”

He was right, it did make it easier for him to ravish you, the pace of each thrust came in faster, and faster. He was rough, but nowhere near as ferocious as his Ethan. There was still a soft side to Heeseung’s performance that allowed you to maintain some aspect of the setting, whereas his Ethan persona would normally induce you to a state of unawareness and peaked exhaustion.

The pace continued to go faster, unsure of how it was possible, yet all you could do was to take it. It didn’t matter how loud your cries and pleasuring moans were, the car was parked away and at a distance where no one could see, hear, or save you. You were at his mercy, for the pleasure was too great at times, you almost felt the desire to escape his grasp. Whenever you shifted, attempting to close your legs or extend your hips away from his groin, the hand that laid firmly on your inner thigh would hold you down and spread, reminding you that there was no escape, not even from the gentle Heeseung. His vigor remained ever present no matter what side he was taking, himself or Ethan. For both entities, the difference on the achievement didn’t matter, there was one goal that they shared to obtain, and that was to get the both of you to cum.

Suddenly, your body couldn’t take anymore. You felt your muscles violently contracting, the shaking of your body terminates the smooth sail of your body’s movements that had, up until that moment, followed in sync with his thrusts. Your hips jolt, up and down, left to right, only to be suppressed by his grab on you as he forces you to remain steady while he continues thrusting. The feeling was beyond overwhelming, it was too good that it was almost painful. Your body tries to fight it by shifting fiercely, trying to break free, yet the slap of his hand against your thigh as he pushes you down with his arm and strengthens his grab overpowers you, causing you to scream.

“Oh yeah, that’s it baby. Cum for me.” The feeling of his lips moving as he spoke, grazing against the sensitive area of your neck did not help the matter, your mind went into the state of confusion as to trying to configure if the sensation you were forced to succumb to was good or bad, or both. All of which became null and void when your orgasm kicked in and put you on cloud nine.

His thrusts became heavier, deeper, and dowdy as the speed increased, all the while you became limp and barely out of breath as each weakened moan escaped you. The tingling high you felt in our gut shuddered your muscles as your body began to gradually release a fluid that is different from the natural lubricant it produced before. It felt sour, almost stingy but not at all painful, just overly euphoric. You couldn’t control it as you screamed and dug your fingertips into the arm around your waist, feeling him pushing you down as he felt the flow of your orgasm drowning his tip and trickling down his length.

Three deep thrusts in as you were cumming, you felt the fierceness of his gasps coughed against your neck as he releases into you. His hand that had rested gently on your inner thigh suddenly grabbed hold and just like you, the fingertips dug into your skin, pushing your thigh outwards more in the process while bruising the skin. A series of hard but slow thrusts followed suit, as if he was making sure every drip went deep inside.

What followed suit were everlasting moments of peaceful rest as you both regained your breaths, mainly you. Your raging pants were gently persuaded to calmness as you felt his hand rub and massage your chest, while his relentless kisses on your neck continued.

“Breathe for me. Breathe for me, baby.”

He calmly tells you, all the while his shaft remains in your body, surrounded by your warmth and softness.

#heeseung x reader #heeseung hard hours #heeseung hard thoughts #heeseung scenarios #heeseung smut #heeseung fanfic #heeseung ff #enha x reader #enhypen hard hours #enhypen smut #enha fanfiction #enha smut #enhypen drabbles #heeseung imagines #heeseung smau #heeseung x you #heeseung drabbles

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zeerohpunk · 8 months

Text

i am NOT late to day one of Redactedtober 2023

ive never posted or shared fanfics before and im hella nervous to do so esp because i put this together in two hours with no proofreading

but i suppose now is as good a time as ever to post ��

uhhhh

1.3k words

cw: implied family trauma/abuse, read at ur own discression. nothing is "seen" in the fic.

Characters: Lovely x Vincent

prompt: Home

tagging: @specter-soltare @xanyiaz

Lovely shut off the car, sitting silent in the driveway for just a moment. They wanted to take a good look at the house before them. It'd been years.

Their childhood home.

They didn't know what exactly was pulling them, urging them to drive here today, they just knew they needed to see it again.

It wasn't nostalgia, really. There weren't many happy memories made in that house, so it wasn't like they missed it or anything. Just the opposite.

They stepped out of the car, leaves falling apart below their feet. The place could use some intense landscaping and yardwork, seems it hadn't been touched in decades. Moss had overwhelmed the front facing walls, the roof drain pipe was overfull with fallen leaves and pine needles, and god knows what else.

"Time has not been kind to you." They stated as they stuffed their hands in their pockets. With a sigh, they walked up the driveway. They weren't going to get caught for tresspassing, or breaking and entering, the house hadn't been touched in ages anyways. They also had no desire to go in the place, they just wanted to...peak around.

And peak they did.

Through the kitchen windows, they saw the old appliances they once used on a daily basis. The creaky cabinets were still the same, too.

Next was the living room windows. The house looked so different with no furniture, but it still felt all the same. You can't remove the memories of a place by replacing wallpaper or a fancy new rug.

They remembered what it was like, getting them and their siblings up for school each day. Taking care of the littles was important to Lovely. They needed to show them that if no one else, their older sibling wanted the best for them. Early mornings making breakfast, late nights helping the kids with homework, or trying to distract the young ones from the bickering down the hallway.

They hoped they had a good life now. Hoped they were happy.

With a heavy breath, they walked to the backyard gate, pushing the old metal back to let themselves in. The old tire swing came into view. A half smile grew over Lovely's face. Bittersweet.

Pushing the kids on the old rubber wheel, the laughter filling their memories. It was just enough to make them tear up for a moment.

They sat down on the swing, for the first time in years. The branch holding it leaned with the weight, but held strong just as well.

This house wasn't a happy one. It was... only okay for a few years. But the walls grew cold fast, and the warmth just never returned. It was as if it was built on a hellmouth, doomed from the beginning.

6:14 am. Shit, it's getting late. They needed to get home before the sun rose, Vincent would be getting back soon anyways. They stood from the swing and walked back to the car, looking back only once before they reached the car.

They drove with the top down on the car, taking in all the cool October air in their hair. The drive was therapeutic, leaving their old living quarters in the past.

As they pulled into the driveway, they smiled. A real smile. They took their time going inside, they just wanted to appreciate the place for what it is.

The garage smell that they hated, the quiet squeak in the door to the house, even the paint on the walls. (It was starting to chip, and the couple had planned on getting it fixed up, or even painting it a new color entirely, but for now they appreciated the wear and tear).

They wandered the place as if it was brand new to them, appreciating every doorframe and lightswitch in their path. Sure, it might seem goofy to take pride in these minor details but... to them, these things were signs of new beginnings. Happiness. A new life.

Lovely stumbled into the guest bedroom, the one they had taken over shortly after meeting Vincent. Some of their things still lived here in this room, but more as a decoration now.

They sat down on the bed, picturing the moment they had woken after Sam healed them. Lovely remember Vincent sitting next to them in the chair. How guilty he felt after the conflict happened. How they reached from the bed to lace their pinkies, a form of affection they share with him now. A way of reassuring him or themselves that things are okay. Will be okay. They had each other, through everything.

Lovely stood up, opening the doors to the, albeit small, closet. It was so cramped once they had officially moved in as Vincents... "little roommate," and the thought of the nickname made them laugh just as it had when he first said it.

Nothing besides some shelves and hangers existed in the closet now, making the space seem much bigger than they previously remembered.

Lovely heard Vincent pull into the garage now, his music blasting as always. They told him more than once that if they had closer neighbors, they'd get so many noise complaints because of him. (But that usually ended with him saying something about how the pair could give the neighbors something "different" to listen to, instead).

"Lovely?" His voice echoed through the house, but they were too focused on memories and appreciation to answer him just yet. They heard him placing the blood bags into the fridge, but they also smelt it, too. They delighted in the idea of feeding soon, but not yet.

"Baby? Whatcha doin'?" He asked, he had traced their aura to the guest bedroom. A look of confusion and curiousity played across his face when he found them standing inside the closet, of all places. It was weird enough for them to be in this bedroom, let alone the closet.

Lovely reached over with a smile, pulling him in with them. "Hi." They wrapped their arms around him, taking in the smell of him as much as they could.

Vincent stumbled slightly, he wasn't expecting his partner to practically jump in his arms upon greeting them. Or being pulled into the closet, but uh...priorities?

"Hi," He laughed, pressing a kiss to the top of their forehead, "you doin' alright?"

"Never been better." They mumbled into his chest softly. They reached for their boyfriends hand, lacing their fingers before pressing kisses to each one.

"Well... I'm glad you're good. But uh... any particular reason we're standing in the closet of your old bedroom right now? I mean, I'll hold you wherever you want me too, but it's a little cramped in here." He took a moment to look around them, realizing just how tiny it was. One wrong move and he could bump his head on a shelf or something.

"I know! I know. It's perfect, isn't it?" Lovely squealed, practically bouncing in their spot. This earned them a laugh out of Viincent, who was still very puzzled by his partner, but whatever made them happy made him happy.

"Well, I brought home some blood bags, if you want to join me for one?" He asked. It had been a couple days since the pair had fed, and it'd be nice to feed again soon.

"Hold on, just wait. I want to stay here for just a minute."

"So... while we are here, you wanna explain what exactly we're doing in the closet right now?" Their boyfriend asked, though he showed no intention from moving from where he stood, his arms wrapped tightly around his partner.

"I was just... appreciating the place. The life I have now. And now that you're here... my home." They looked up with a smile, leaning on their toes to kiss him on the cheek. The sentiment made vincent smile wide, nodding as he pulled them in as close as possible. He shared that sentiment too, Lovely was just as much his home as he was theirs.

They wouldn't have it any other way.

#redacted audio #redacted asmr #redactedverse #zeeroh writes!#redacted vincent #redacted lovely #redactedtober #redacted fanfic #redacted fluff

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drdemonprince · 8 months

Note

could you tell us about your experience with mushrooms? I've tried it many times, and I feel like it hasn't changed anything for me (though i had no expectations), but maybe i was "doing it wrong"

I posted about it a couple weeks back, so you can scroll thru for that, but it didn't do much for me. I felt high like I was on weed, I danced in a warehouse for a while, which was as pleasant as it always is substances or no, I went outside and the grass and leaves were shimmering, my friend drove me in their car and we listened to Bjork and it was very pretty and moving to watch the sunlight glisten on the skyscrapers and the lake, I felt a sense of peace and certainty in living here being an immense gift that I should cement by establishing more permanent roots here, housing wise, and then we went to the beach to watch a drag show and i drank a bubble tea and felt relaxed and good. later in the evening, mostly sober watching children's dog movies of the 90s like All Dogs Go to Heaven, I got kind of emotional. but nothing beyond my normal range of possible feeling. i was depressed the next day, sad like a forlorn child in a manageable way. i was irritable and pissy the next few days, desperately craving my own space and quiet, which used to happen a few years ago when i was in a worse living situation and place in my life. it felt like backsliding. i was annoyed that i felt that way. it stayed like that for a few days. now a couple weeks later im basically the same, but a little more resolute about some changes that i want to make. i feel like a serious adult man. if anything it just got me to where i was mentally heading a little bit faster.

sometimes the shrooms have something to teach you, my friend blair says, and sometimes they don't. while i was high in the car listening to bjork, i turned inward and asked the mushrooms, "hey guys, whats going on? what do i need to know, if anything?" and they said to me (im speaking metaphorically here) "you already know exactly what is going on in your life. you know what you're good at and what you want, and you know what has been persistently making you upset. youve made certain decisions about how to navigate the difficult things in your life, and you have an accurate gauge of what the costs of that are. not much else to say. you know what's going on." and i was like "bet." i didn't hallucinate, i had no big revelations, and i probably wouldnt do it again for a very long time because the come down sucked for me.

people overhype what substances can do for you, a lot of the time. it's just a tool. it can be fun. it can give you diarrhea. it can make you cry, and maybe that's good. it's not a solution to your problems it's just another problem but some problems are worth it in your own risk cost calculus etc.

and i find that many autistic people just aren't all that impacted by substances like allistics are. we're so reflexive at masking that our impulse may be to maintain composure and level headedness at all times. i was pretty sober after anesthesia too. i often wish that substances would give me some grand feeling of release, but once the drug hits my system all i want is to remain in control, as i always do. there's an infamous story about a guy who the CIA tested acid tabs on, who didn't hallucinate or act funny after like 30 consecutive doses. he just seemed normal. it turned out he was at baseline absolutely consumed with debilitating anxiety. so being super fucking high just gave him something to direct his hyperanalytical system's attention to. i hope someone reading this will remember this account and provide a link, im not being super precise. but. there's something about that experience that i relate to. ive never been out of control on any substance. i always seem pretty lucid, maybe a little sillier or more tired but even those things feel like a choice.

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daryldamnson · 2 years

Text

MASTERLIST

EDDIE MUNSON:

Fics:

Surprise, Surprise (complete)

Summary: Eddie has to reckon with the fact that the rich cheerleader he thought he could brush off as another basic conformist has a few surprises up her sleeve. (6.6k words)

part i

part ii

part iii

part iv

part v

Sweet Boy

Summary: Requested! Eddie’s father shows up unexpectedly. At first Eddie freezes up, but when his dad starts harassing you, years of pent up anger gets released. soft ending! (1.1k words)

Primadonna

Summary: Requested! After Corroded Coffin gets famous famous, Eddie buys you stuff. Lots of stuff. You reassure him that all you really want is him. (0.7k words)

Put Your Head On My Shoulder

Summary: On the drive home from a day out with the regular troupe, you and Eddie get shoved in the back two seats. It doesn’t take long for you to drift off when Eddie offers himself up as a human pillow. pre-relationship fluff. (1k words)

Elm Street and Other Things Worth Waiting For

Summary: Eddie’s convinced he heard you listening to Black Sabbath. Steve’s not having it. You just came in to rent a horror movie; you leave with a maybe date with the metalhead who’s kind of already obsessed with you. (2.1k words)

Homespun Remedies

Summary: Requested! You get the hiccups. Eddie is a dork. cute and dumb fluff. (0.4k words)

Caught Up In You

Summary: Jason manages to corner you at a party. You’re saved by a knight in shining leather jacket who does very well at playing boyfriend. Maybe too well. (2k words)

made a wish on elevens - historical royal au

Summary: Eddie’s a servant. He knows what that means. He knows he can’t have you. He loves you anyway. hardcore pining. (1k words)

Sweet Nothing

Summary: Requested! A quiet day in where Eddie doesn’t feel the need to put on any airs because he’s with you, his favourite person. (0.5k words)

Steady (in progress)

Summary: soft post-s4 steddie/reader. no real summary yet. the name makes me laugh ok. 1.4k words and counting

Close Calls (in progress)

Summary: Eddie likes to pretend he hasn’t been crushing on you for the better part of a year. It becomes a much more difficult task after you begin tutoring him. 6.5k words and counting

Headcanons:

Eddie’s kinks

STEVE HARRINGTON:

Fics:

Crime and Punishment (complete)

Summary: One day when you’re in the library Steve Harrington attempts to engage you in a conversation about a book he’s clearly never read, because he’s crushing on you and all other attempts of striking up conversation have flown right over your oblivious head. Fluffy and short. Awkward!Steve. (3.8k words)

part i

part ii

part iii

part iv

part v

And Suddenly, I See It At A Glance (on hold)

Summary: Anastasia prompt - “ah, an unspoken attraction.” “attraction? to that skinny little brat? have you lost your mind?” Steve realises that yes, he does have feelings for Y/N.

part i

part ii

part iii

Headcanons:

Meeting you

Camp counsellor Steve

Steve confessing his love

Cuddling

Semi-public sin

Protective Steve (angsty version)

Lazy day in bed

He’ll be such a good dad

Comfort after a nightmare

Christmas Shopping

Steve’s kinks

DAIR:

Fics:

Lemons, Limes, and Tomatoes (complete)

Summary: She finds it hard to describe. Realising she likes Dan Humphrey. (0.4k words)

SPENCER REID:

Headcanons:

Reader is a youtuber

BUCKY BARNES:

Fics:

Five Times He Wanted To Kiss You + One Time He Did (on hold)

Summary: You’re a good friend of Tony Stark’s who decides to drop in for a while. Bucky can’t seem to help becoming captivated by you (and your lips).

part i

part ii

part iii

part iv

part v

part vi

Headcanons:

pining for you (pt. 1)

confessing his feelings (pt. 2)

BILLY HARGROVE (will be ooc bc i hate him really):

Headcanons:

Christmas Shopping

Meeting him (+Billy loves your ass)

Fics:

Safety Hazards and Lethal Smiles (on hold)

Summary: Billy Hargrove is an asshole of epic proportions. You know that. Everyone knows that. So why does your heart stutter every time grins at you? Man, are you in trouble.

part i

part ii

part iii

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tadokorochann · 2 years

Text

NAUGHTY

a Bertholdt x Reader shower sex drabble, born from a convo between me and @erwnsmith who is a BADDIE and you should all check her out

word count: 1629

genre/warnings: pure filth, female reader, shower sex, thigh-fucking, submissive berthoidt, a bit of sub/dom dynamics (bert isn’t allowed to touch himself without asking but, he may have been naughty)

a/n: this is the first time ive written anything more than 200 words in like 5 years, and it’s definitely my first time posting it to tumblr, so it might suck, but i hope u like it.

“Mmmph… hah…” The noises Bertholdt makes as you shove your tongue into his mouth send shivers straight down to your core, tingling in a way that made you feel even warmer than the droplets of water raining down on you both from the shower head. His hands are slow to find purchase on your sides as you press your body against him. He’s nervous, and he has good reason to be.

“I-I’m sorry,” he whines, muffled from the wet kisses you continue to layer on him. You only stop to let out a light chuckle, brushing your hands over his arms, his chest, his abdomen. Watching his muscles tense under your touches and his cheeks redden as he tries his best to look at anything but your naked form.

“Are you? You know our rule, Bertie,” you coo, in a familiar tone that, despite his best efforts, makes blood rush to his dick. You notice, too, he knows you do, because the predatory grin on your face only grows wider. You lean in again, pressing your lips against the shell of his ear. “You have to ask for my permission if you want to touch yourself. You promised you would, Bertie. So why did I just find your face buried in a pair of my panties, fisting your cock like your life depends on it?”

He’s too worked up to respond, too hot and too embarrassed to properly articulate to you how the risqué pictures you’d sent him earlier in the day had affected him, or the way he felt seeing your skirt ride up and show off your ass when you’d bent over to pick something off the kitchen floor a few hours later. All day, you’d been doing things —intentionally and not—- that made his blood pump and his palms sweat. His cock had been aching for hours, and he’d tried to follow the rules, he really had, but when the throbbing between his legs had reached a breaking point, he’d found you asleep, and, not wanting to bother you but unable to wait any longer, he’d swiped a pair of panties from your hamper for their scent and set about giving himself a much-needed release. Evidently, he hadn’t been quiet enough, because the noise was enough for you to wake up and give him a heart attack. You scolded him, and it led to where you were now- pinning him against the shower wall and staring at him like he was your next meal.

“I, I- I didn’t mean to-“

“It’s okay, baby. I think I know. You’re such a good boy, you just need to cum, don’t you?” Bertholdt’s cheeks burn at the words, but he nods his head, letting out a soft gasp as your hand finally grasps his cock, head tilting back almost instinctively as you give it a few gentle strokes. He feels like he’s in heaven as you touch him, eyes snapping shut as his hips begin to arch into the movements of your wrist but it doesn’t last long, because you soon stop. You don’t leave him hanging for very long, though, instead shifting your stance and moving to slot his dick between your legs.

“Why don’t you fuck my thighs?” You feel his cock twitch in response, and for a few seconds he just stares at you, but it doesn’t take long before his hands are grasping at your waist so he can hold you in place and jerk his hips forward, shuddering at the feeling of your flesh surrounding him. He loves how soft and how warm it is, hugging his cock perfectly as he begins to drive himself in and out, desperate for friction, desperate for release. It already feels so good; he doesn’t know how long he can last like this and he has a feeling that you know that, too. Why else would you be guiding his fingers up, easing them to rub at your swollen clit in the way he knows you like, drawing soft, heavy breaths from your lips like an addictive mantra?

It’s too much. It feels too good, and the sweet noises you’re making have his balls beginning to tighten, full and ready to release at any second, but somehow it’s not enough, either. With each drag of his cock between your inner thighs, he can feel the slickness of your hot little pussy, wet and pulsing on the top side of his shaft. It’s driving him crazy. He lets out a grunt, snapping his hips forward with more force, loving the way your skin feels around him, but consumed by the temptation of something even better.

“What’s wrong, Bertie?” The tone of your voice between heavy, layered breaths sends shivers down his spine, and he’s barely even aware of the moans emanating from his own chest.

“I, I, can I … inside, please?” He can’t form a coherent sentence, but the tip of his cock prodding at your entrance tells you all you need to know.

“No.” A pathetic whine escapes Bertholdt’s throat as you take hold of his dick, tears of desperation pricking at the corners of his eyes as you reposition him between your legs.

“Please, I, I need it, I need it so bad-“

“If you wanted my pussy that badly, you should have come to me and asked. You’re still in trouble, baby.” You pause, bringing your lips to his ear. “If you’re desperate enough to touch yourself without permission, my thighs should be more than enough to get you off. They’re all you get right now, so if you want to cum, you’d better use them. Otherwise, I’ll step out and make you wait even more.” He can’t handle waiting any longer, so with a frustrated whimper, he begins thrusting his hips again, desperate to find release between the plushness of your thighs. His fingers circle your clit with a renewed vigor, and you smile, pleased with how he’s still tending to you despite his ragged state.

You can feel a tightness building in your lower belly, rising steadily from the way he touches you, and the way his cock feels, throbbing between your legs so close to your core as he desperately chases his own release. You relish in the power of the situation- Bertholdt is desperate to please you, desperate for you to forgive him, you could tell him to do anything right now and he’d do it without question so long as you let him cum. That thought alone is enough to coax your release, and you find yourself shivering, thighs trembling as you struggle to stay upright with the pleasure pulsing through you.

Bertholdt lets out a choked sob as you cum, feeling your pussy convulse above him and your thighs shake, the added friction driving him absolutely wild as he frantically moves even faster, broken whines and needy whimpers falling freely from his throat. He keeps touching you, working you through your orgasm until the pressure on your clit becomes painfully oversensitive, at which point you smack his hand away. He recoils briefly, with a look that almost hurts you, but he soon forgets about it as you open your mouth and begin to praise him.

“Such a good boy, such a diligent boy, making me cum first even when you’re so needy.” You begin kissing at his neck, one hand moving to pull at his hair almost painfully, but not quite, an act that makes his muscles tense and his balls ache. He’s painfully hard now, no- scratch that. He’s been painfully hard this whole time, having been on the edge for what feels like hours. He can hardly believe what he babbled about to you before; as if the velvety skin of your thighs wasn’t good enough, because right now it feels so fucking good he can’t hold it in anymore.

“M’gonna - ‘mgonna-“ he can’t even finish warning you because one more thrust has him coating your inner thighs with rope after rope of hot, sticky cum, a strangled cry of relief coming from his throat as he finally gets the release that’s been building him all day. His hips jerk wildly as he rides it out, nearly losing his footing in the process. Thankfully he catches himself, hands coming to rest on your hips as he lets out several long pants, his face red and flushed.

“T-thank you.”

“Of course, Bertie.” You press a tender kiss to his lips, giving him some time to catch his breath and let the water wash away the evidence of your activities together. A few moments later, you realize he's still staring at you, making you tilt your head in curiosity.

“Something wrong?”

Bertholdt quickly raises his hands in defense.

“N-No, nothing is wrong! Nothing at all! I-it’s that you’re beautiful…. and I love you.”

You feel your heart pound in your chest, your face flushing slightly.

“I love you too.” A couple seconds later, you speak up again. “Let me know if I’m ever too hard on you, or I say something you don’t like, okay? I won’t ever get mad at you for letting me know you’re uncomfortable.” Bertholdt nods in response, smiling, so you place a final peck on his cheek before moving to grab a bottle of shampoo.

“We should probably start washing up for real before the hot water runs out. Reiner’ll be mad if it’s still cold when he comes home.”

“Hey, I wasn’t dirty in the first place, you’re the one who dragged me in here!” You chuckle at that and give him a playful grin.

“Sassy. Are you ready to be in trouble again so soon?” He freezes before shaking his head, muttering to himself before lathering up a handful of soap.

#bertholdt x reader #bertholdt hoover x reader #aot smut #bertholdt hoover smut #this is a repost #because the tags didnt work on the previous one

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emeritus-fuckers · 6 months

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I'm hopefully going to be asking for the match-up event! I hope I didn't overwhelm you with too much information. I should mention that you should probably refer to me as Alex if you need to use a name.

(Identity) He/Him but quite lenient for any other pronouns, transgender man, queer (as in the entire sexuality label, I'm tired of trying to search for myself)

(Likes) Personal preference for Papas, but ghouls get my love as well

(Look) Shorter side, a good chub with broader shoulders and belly hair. While I currently have some facial hair I prefer to keep it shaved short. Dark brown all over, but I currently have my hair dyed a deep red. Very casual dressing style, if I can't wear it for more than a few hours, I won't have it in my wardrobe. I have some dry skin on my face especially near my nose and forehead, but lotion after showers help calm it down. Glasses, quite thick and I probably need to get them changed soon.

(Personality) Introverted with a slight temper, I can get very easily agitated in public spaces (ex: Walmart makes me want to bite whoever is with me) but I prefer to go out occasionally for enrichment. I prefer quiet spaces, but concerts and fairs are fine.

(Interests) Most of my free time, if not spent playing casual games like animal crossing or on the Internet, is used to daydream. I enjoy reading fiction and insect encyclopedias. I have a hope to become an entomologist either within agriculture or forensics. The majority of my playlist is Fall Out Boy so take that as you will. (Gay, I know)

(Trivia) Interested in Lolita fashion and the whole porcelain doll feeling, it's a dream to one day make a Lolita dress by hand. Deep connection to dolls in general, if it wasn't for the fact I'm poor I'd probably be designing dolls! Quite picky with foods, but I enjoy trying some new things when given the chance.

This post is part of the 1000 followers match up event. Entries for the event are now closed.

Your match is… Papa Emeritus IV

You got to know Copia at fiurst because you both had an interest in games. Copia had been wanting to ask you out on a date, but all that came out of him were little rat noises and squeaks.

Until one day you mentioned that you needed help dying your hair.

He immediately offered to help, he practically insisted.

The bathroom is really peaceful and you just chat while he puts the dye in your hair. It comes out the best it ever has, Copia is very proud of himself, and this gives him the confidence to ask you out.

He notices you don’t like busy places so your first date is in a really peaceful part of the garden. He asks Primo first if it's okay. When you arrive there is a bench set up with cushions all over it and Primo leaves a pot of his famous tea.

Copia surprises you one day with the chance to design dolls. He also sets stuff up so you can learn how to, and have what you need to make a Lolita dress.

You both enjoy going to concerts together and he got you VIP tickets to Fall out Boy.

Written by Nyx

#lunchbox-for-gays #ghost band x reader #ghost band #ghost bc x reader #ghost bc #papa emeritus iv #copia x reader #copia #papa iv #match up event #match up #papa emeritus iv x reader

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autism-corner · 1 year

Text

Convenient Trouble, Levi x reader smut

It was the only way to achieve what he wanted. There’s no way that Levi could actually just directly approach you or anything. No, he’s way too much of a loser for that. So, to get what he’s been so desperately dreaming of, it had to look like an accident. It had to look like something went unfortunately wrong. That’s the only way to get things right.

Here he is. The moment of truth. All his brothers had left the house, only leaving you and him for a surprising amount of time. His plan was laid out, alongside the rope he’d need. This was the only way Levi would get you to be his.

(I realise it might look like he’s going to kill himself. He is not don’t worry =w=b Its just the good ol' 'whoopsie ive tied myself up in a sexual way teehee thats so silly lol')

II Top Reader II AMAB Reader II you/yours pronouns II 2,200 Words II Trans Levi II Also posted on AO3!! II

It’s one of the few peaceful days in the house of Lamentation. All the nuisances have left the building and the only two current occupants were both holed up in their rooms. You took this quiet day to watch a movie you’ve been looking forward to.

It had only been a few minutes before your watching was interrupted. A call from Leviathan? Now you’re curious. Levi is the last brother to call unnecessarily, so something must be really amiss. Quickly you press the button.

“Levi, are you okay?” you nearly scream. Despite his distant character, you’ve really grown to care about him. Maybe a little more than you’d like.

“Yeah, I’m fine. I mean. Somewhat.” You feel relieved. He doesn’t sound like he’s in too much distress. His voice sounds a lot more nervous than panicked. “You see, like…” A breath. He needed to take this slow, and you knew not to interrupt. “So you know in Season 4 of Ruri-chan there’s an episode where this bad guy that has kidnapped Azuki-tan and Ruri-chan goes to save her and to have enough time to untie Azuki-tan Ruri-chan actually ties up the bad guy so he won’t interfere and she does so successfully and they both make it out and so this rope that she used to tie up the bad guy is actually pink with little flowers all over it so it’s like a real Ruri-chan rope and now they’ve released it as merch. And so I had to get it. But now I’m stuck.”

These were the most words you ever heard Levi say. How passionate can this guy get about a kids show? Although, you have to admit, it’s kind of endearing. Wait. He’s stuck?

“You’re stuck?” He lets out a whine. “Please don’t laugh at me. I was just excited and it got all b-bungled up. I know im a good-for-nothing otaku, but could you p-please come help me?” God, it sounded like he was on the verge of tears. You smiled, “Of course I'll come help you Levi. I’m on my way.” He exhaled with relief. “Good! You know, the newest episode from ‘Help, I Have A Crush But No Idea How To Approach Him So I Tied Myself Up And He Had To Help Me’ begins airing soon and I absolutely cannot miss that, so you better hurry.” You laughed, responded with a simple “I will.” and hung up. For how much of an introvert he is, this sure is a very direct method.

— Upon entering the room, it was clear what kind of predicament Levi had gotten himself into. And gotten himself into it he had, because there’s no plausible way for that to have happened by accident. He was on the floor with his face near the ground, arms and legs bound to his torso and ass clearly presented in the air.Ofcourse his ass was pointed directly at the entrance, both granting you a beautiful view, with the added bonus that Levi couldn’t catch you staring.

The way the rope wound over and under Levi’s legs, arms and stomach made it possible for him to be entirely picked up by one hand. He looked pathetic and helpless, and the bright red colour on his face didn’t help.

“Ah! You came!” He must have heard the door, because you’d been just standing there, taking it all in. The way his aquarium reflected a soft blue light everywhere made it look that much more heavenly. You close the door behind you, and turn the knob to lock. Slowly you approach your stuck prey, who’s silently sweating away. With the way his face is pressed against the floor, his vision is extremely limited. He tries to listen to your approach, but still lets out a surprised yelp when he feels your hand on his head.

“Poor little lamb. Levi dear, how could you have possibly ended up in this situation? You know, I’m really starting to think this isn’t that much of an accident.” You smiled and watched as his cheeks got just a little more vibrant. “NO! I swear to you this wasn’t on purpose! I’m so sorry you have to see a gross pervert otaku like this I shouldn't have even started this I knew it’d be bad. But it was an accident! I’m telling you!!”

You kneel next to him, trying to look him in the eyes, while he’s actively avoiding yours. You don’t know Levi all that well, but it’s very clear that this is a played up innocent act. The way he’s biting back his smile and the way his eyes are glistening can’t be a coincidence. Debating how to handle this situation, you continue.

“Hm. Well, if that’s how you want to play it.” Levi’s eyes finally meet yours, and the mutual understanding is immediately clear.

You switch up your attitude, now that you know there is a joint goal.

“Levi dear, how could I possibly help you? I mean. Look at the predicament you’re in.” Your voice is filled with fake concern and a bit of amusement. Standing up, you take another good look at him. There are only a few knots, reachable by Levi’s own hands. He could’ve easily come out if he wanted to. He is still on all fours, ass high up in the air. The only thing that has changed since you’ve come in is the way his legs are positioned, now slightly more spread than natural.

“You know what I think?” Your hands find his ass, and god do they feel divine. It really was a shame he always wears that long-ass cloak.

You get on your knees behind him, and bend over to whisper in his ear. “We might need to remove the clothes you have, just to make some space between the rope and your body. Do you mind?” Patiently you wait for his response. Levi really isn’t a guy that talks much when he’s in these situations, but it’s not like you mind. You just need a quick actually verbal confirmation. “Baby? I am going to need a response, darling.” He whimpers.

“I- I didn’t expect it to go this well. Please just do whatever you want! I want to be in your complete mercy!” He cries out. You place a quick kiss on his ear. “That surely can be arranged, don’t you worry pretty.”

Getting up again, eager to finally start the action, your eyes notice the convenient ways some of the rope is bound. It seems that there’s been successfully left just enough space for Levi’s pants to be pulled down. How favourable.

Deciding to keep teasing him for a bit, you snake your hand between his legs and cup his sex. You didn’t exactly find the dick that you were expecting, but his pussy felt wet and soft and you couldn’t wait to delve in. The small gasp he let out only encouraged you.

He seemed to be just as turned on as you, slightly wet through his pants. To let him know just how much you were enjoying him, you press your hard-on against him, causing Levi to let out a harsh moan. While he doesn’t like talking that much, you have a feeling he is rather vocal. Which only means you’ll want to try your hardest to hear all of Levi’s delicious little noises.

With one hand on his hip and the other slowly playing with his front, you begin to move your hips as well. Levi is whining and struggling underneath you, desperately trying to get any more friction he can get.

Deciding you’ve both been tormented enough, you pull down Levi’s pants and underwear as far as they can go. It’s something you’ve been dreaming of seeing, and it’s a great deal better than you’ve hoped. Round cheeks with freckles sprinkled here and there, and a surprisingly wellkept grooming situation. Given the state of his usual hygiene, you were certainly not about to complain.

“It sure looks like someone came prepared.” His hole was clearly stretched already. Finally being able to touch his actual skin, you reach for his clit. While he’s trembling beneath you, letting out soft groans and moans, you reach down to undo your own pants.

Levi is ready, spread open all for you. His holes are beautifully exposed, his cries steadily growing louder. Still slowly rubbing his tiny dick, the hand on Levi slowly moves downwards, inching to his precious warmth. Your other hand is leisurely stroking your own dick, preparing it for what’s to come.

Your fingers have reached Levi’s hole, and are now slowly prodding at the entrance. Finally having gained the courage by Levi’s lavish voice, you push in two fingers at once. It looks like Levi had been playing with his bits for quite some time already, since there was barely any resistance. Hearing him moan loudly only reinsured your ideas.

The soft feeling of him surrounding you was already heavenly, and the best was yet to come. Thanks to the way Levi was still desperately grinding against both your hand and erection, you knew time was running low. So, reckoning Levi is prepared enough by both your and his previous preparations, you decide to dive in. You remove your fingers from his hole, making him let out a desperate sob. The hand moves up to his hips, still delightfully positioned due to the ropes. You guide your dick to his hole, and without warning, push in.

The way Levi squeals out is something that you will always remember. It began low and rumbling, quickly rising in volume and tone once he realised you were actually, properly inside him. That first embrace, combined with Levi all packed up for you, truly felt like heaven. Giving some time for Levi to adjust, you bend over his body again. “God, you feel so good like this, Levi.” You let out a groan. “So perfect and pretty, only for me right?” His only responses are small wails and shrieks, apparently already to fucked out to answer. Deciding it’s certainly been long enough, you finally begin to move.

Getting up again, both your hands grasp a firmer grip on his hips. You begin with slowly thrusting halfway in and out, but after just a few smacks you cave in. Levi had explicitly said to use him however you please, so why should you even have to be careful? Your movement becomes quicker, the sound of the smacks making a beautiful symphony alongside Levi’s moans.

The way his body moves in response to yours is mesmerizing, so limited by the rope but all to free against his tiled floor. He made a good choice to bind his confinements in a way that still leaves a layer of cloth between him and the cold hard ground. Your performance leaves his body making small shocks, and he is both propelled by your thrusts yet contained by the firm hands still on his hips. The way your momentum is constantly hitting him in the middle of his breaths makes his yelps sound that much better. Every time you hit his spot, his noises become more angelic. There’s no doubt as to why he might have fallen.

While you’re continuing to ravage his body, the small pressure in your stomach keeps growing. When you notice it slipping past the point of return, you quickly place your hand lower, to start playing with Levi’s clit again. Somehow, Levi begins to let out words again. “Please..” he moans. “Fuck me. Fuck me. Fuck me.” His voice starts hiccuping and it’s clear that he too, is close. Gathering the very few thoughts you have still left, you respond.

“Yeah baby? Do you want me to fuck you full?” He returns quickly, with the loudest voice you’ve ever heard out of him “Yeah fuck!” You join him with his moans, his walls tightening around you, wanting to pull you even closer. “Fuck me full daddy please I’m so close. Please fill me up. I need you right now.”

Although you would love to focus on the things Levi’s continuing to babble out, you feel his peak coming in. He shakes and clenches around you, pulling you over as well. It’s delicious, and you wish to experience this over and over again. You continue to thrust and fuck him roughly, getting both of you trough your respective climax, while filling him to the brim.

Getting down from the high, you slowly pull out. The string of your release keeps you connected for a bit, before splitting and dripping on the ground. Gross. You really need to clean both of you off. Still half-dazed, you go to check on Levi. His tongue is rolled out, drool making a little puddle on the floor. His eyes are closed and if you wouldn’t know better, he might have fallen asleep. Poor thing. You pick him up, and slowly you begin to untie his creation.

How he managed all of this in the first place, is something you’ll have to ask him later. Currently, the only thing that matters is him curled up in his bath with you, lazily and with a surprisingly confident manner, talking about his feelings for you. A proper confession was really due, after all.

#obey me #obey me smut #obey me leviathan #obey me levi #obey me leviathan smut #obey me male reader #obey me bottom leviathan #obey me x reader #leviathan x reader #obey me leviathan x reader #nsfnr #my work #sillyposting #ftm levi #nothing deep he just has a pussy =w=b #x reader

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