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seraphmeraph · 3 months

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WEDDING NIGHT WITH TOJI FREAKY A$$ 😻😻‼️

i kinda gotta pee

Your Wedding Night

JJK smut with Daddy Toji Fushiguro

TW: sex (+18), afab reader, dom Toji, sub reader

A/N: I feel like I messed up on this one but I already wrote allat so… YEAHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!

You and Toji had your wedding day today, (the wedding, of course, paid for by you) and now you’re back in a hotel room, getting ready for your first time.

You were waiting for him on the bed, wearing a nightgown and all nervous. When he finally entered the room, it was like his eyes were already imagining what to do with you. He approached the bed before murmuring, “Damn woman…”

“Mm~ Come here,” You held out your arms for him, which he gladly accepted.

Toji quickly took off his shirt, practically jumping on the bed to have you pinned underneath him. He leaned closer to you, his breath hot against your neck.

"Sexy as always," He said, not even warning you before pulling your nightgown up, exposing your ass and underwear. His hands reached down to cup your ass, squeezing them firmly.

Toji kissed you, his tongue intertwining with yours. He aggressively groped your breasts, first squeezing them and then sliding his hands under your nightgown to fondle them.

Toji pulled away, kissing his way down your jaw and onto your neck. You couldn't help but giggle when he bit your neck playfully, leaving a mark. "Your husband," You heard him mutter. "I like the sound of that."

Toji pulled back, pulling your nightgown off you. You were quick to undo your bra for him. Your clothes were now on the floor, nothing on you but your panties.

He made sure to give your breasts extra attention, kissing and playing with them until they were red and swollen. You couldn't help but arch your back from his touch, letting out soft moans that were like music to his ears.

He moved down, His head now in between your thighs. He traced his tongue along your inner thigh. Finally, his fingers entered you as his lips met your clit, licking and sucking it.

"Ah~" You moaned, squirming a bit as he teased you. "Toji~" You panted, biting your bottom lip.

Toji continued to tease and pleasure you, his tongue flicking your sensitive spot while his fingers stretched you open. You could feel your climax building up inside you.

"Close~" You moaned out, but as soon as you said that, he pulled away. You couldn't help but whine at the loss of stimulation.

"Not yet," He said. "Want you creaming on my cock." And with that, he stripped off his pants, his dick erect and throbbing.

Pinning you in between his arms, one of his hands reached down to pump his dick a few times before slowly sliding it into you. "Fuckk, my wife's pussy feels so good, shit… I might just cum like this," He chuckled.

You didn't even have the mental capacity to respond, already feeling fucked out by his dick. His thickness was overwhelming, but you loved it.

He groaned, thrusting into, creating a rhythmic slapping sound as your hips met.

The bed creaked under your combined weight as he pounded into you. Your nails dug into his shoulder.

"Gah- So tight… So fucking tight…" He groaned, his breath hot against your neck, he bit down on your shoulder, leaving another mark.

You wrapped your legs around his waist, pulling him deeper into you.

You guys will be fucking for days.

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mad-c1oud · 3 months

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“you’re safe.” with Pomme, Etoiles and Slime?- unless that's too many ppl then just Slime and Pomme sgdhg 🥺

YEAHHHHHHHHHH

THEM<3333 hope it's okay I made it starcicle...

TW for some panicked thought, bad dreams, and mentions of Tilín's death

this one is longer than a drabble but that's becuase I have three folks so leave me alone <3

+++++

-you’re safe -it’s okay

Charlie can just barely make out the words written in a little red notebook, heart thudding in his chest. Panic grips his heart with sharp crawls, clogging his veins and and he- he can’t— where the fuck is he—

SLAP

-uncle charlie can you read this?

He can but- who- what’s—

-did you have a bad dream?

Did I? Or was it real?

Charlie curls forward on the… bed, he’s in a bed. Soft green covers pool at his waist and there’s a pillow clutched tightly in his grip. He’s… Charlie’s— a bad dream? Breathing hurts but he makes himself do it anyway, forcibly pulling breaths in and out of his lungs as he wheezes. There’s a weight beside him, solid and warm. Still, despite all the comfort around him, ice fills his veins. Unforgiving.

He can feel the terror still, that pure panic freezing him down to his bones. He can feel the warm, wet blood on his hands, the weight beside him— in his arms, as an arrow buries itself into his back, grass staining his jeans and, and then—

Another slap, this one harder. Charlie shudders violently, curling forward until he’s safe, face hidden in his knees as he lets go of the pillow to claw at the blankets around him. He can’t be there, his hands are clean, and there is cotton beneath his fingers not inky black hair. Right?

Right?

Little hands worm their way into the space between his face and his legs, fingers crawling across his jaw and to his cheek, pulling gently. Charlie lets himself be dragged away from how he’s pretzled in on himself, opening his eyes to meet blue and red.

Pomme.

Charlie shudders again, this time with pure relief. She’s okay. It wasn’t… well it was real but it’s also over. This is happening. This, in a familiar room, is happening. This is also real and it's still happening. Good.

“H-hey, Red…”Charlie rasps, rubbing aggressively at his eyes to clear them of the salt and crust. Had he been crying? Fucking hell, he has. The egg beside him frowns when he looks back, blurry but clearly worried as she scribbles something down.

-can I give you a hug?

That nearly has him sobbing all over again but he holds it together, sniffling around the urge to break down again. As his heartbeat continues to slow little by little, Charlie smiles crookedly and holds out his arms. “A hug? From you? I’d never turn that down.”

Pomme throws herself at Charlie, burrowing in close and she wiggles into his lap with a low trill, worried and worried and sad and it’s okay it’s okay it’s okay. Charlie holds her back just as tightly, lying them both back down in the bed with a deep sigh. Pomme sighs back, just a deep and drawn out, and it’s just silly enough to make him laugh, voice still rough from what little sleep he did get. That’s fine because the chill is being chased away by the warm weight against his chest as Pomme begins to doze off again.

Charlie would love to join her, but the terror still lingers, still has his heart beating a little too fast, something probably normal for a human like Fit, but unnatural for a slime. He tries to focus on the fraying threads of the blanket around them, something handmade, but all it does is make an ache grow.

Something’s missing.

“Charlie?”

Never for long, though.

Charlie just hums, gazing to the side as he stays curled around Pomme. He’s too tired to try looking, too tired to say much, too tired to feel guilty about feeling too tired even. Footsteps pad gently across the floor until there’s a fuzzy-looking cucumber kneeling beside the bed, skin dark green and hair bright white with a single little, yellow blossom. White eyes that are technically blank, eyes that should be hard to read, yet Charlie gets it. He sees the the concern. The worry. The question.

The love.

“Étoiles.” Is all he can manage to say and Pomme, fast asleep, trills against his chest again like she's saying it too.

safesafesafe

“Bad dream,” he continues tiredly, answering a question the other hasn’t asked yet. Étoiles hums sadly and drags a callous-rough thumb under one of his eyes, slow and careful like he’s tracing the bags Charlie knows are there.

“And who had the bad dream?”

“I dunno,” Charlie says, reaching up to just hold Étoiles’ wrist. The fighter is blissfully warm, pulse strong and sure where thuds against the slime’s thumb. Charlie breathes with it and continues, yawning, “But Red is pretty damn good at keeping guard. Mind taking the next shift? We're wiped.”

Étoiles chuckles and nods, never releasing Charlie’s hand as he carefully crawls over the other two. He gets under the covers as best as he can with one hand draped over Charlie’s side, his other wiggling between the mattress and Charlie’s body to just hold him securely against his chest.

“I’ll scare away any bad dreams.” Lips press to the back of his head and Charlie smiles, finally feeling at his with Étoiles at his back and Pomme at his front. Charlie finally falls back asleep, and just as Pomme reassured, he's safe.

He just hopes they feel safe with him too.

#i am soooo normal #starcicle #qsmp #qsmp fic #qsmp slimecicle #qsmp etoiles #qsmp pomme #slimecicle #etoiles #drabble #mad writings

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beerecordings · 5 years

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Jackie happy stimming.

They’re all like sitting in the living room

and then upstairs there’s like this tap tap tap

and then this TAP TAP TAP

and then THUMP THUMP THUMP DOWN THE STAIRS

and they’re all looking at each other like ????????

when jackie bursts downstairs shaking his hands and jumping up and down like “HEY YOU KNOW HOW I SAID TOM HOLLAND’S SPIDERMAN WAS DONE FOR?”

Henrik, on the couch: and then cried for three days

“AND THEN CRIED FOR THREE DAYS”

“Yeah buddy we remember”

“WELL - ” *slaps table* “ - TURNS OUT - ” *claps hands* “ - THEY MADE A DEAL AND - ” *spins in a circle til he gets really dizzy and falls over* “ - THERE’S GOING TO BE ONE MORE MOVIE HELL YEAHHHHHHHHHH” *SLAPS THE FLOOR MANY MANY TIMES*

all the other boys: :)

#ask #fleecal

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incarnateirony · 4 years

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I've seen people upset that the CK/JA butt slap was ad-libbed bc it negated a bi reading, but the text isn't just the written text in tv. They did it, the director shot it, the editors picked it. It still is a bookend for the waitress's slap bc they're both in the episode. It doesn't matter if it was scripted bc they could've left it on the cutting room floor, or the director could have told them to stop, or the showrunner could've told them to use a different shot. It's still intentional.

Yeah. While I consider the butt slap relatively irrelevant – at best one of the many pieces of nonheteroconformative GOODNESS in this episode in a full ambient joyride that had a nice spritz of blink and you miss it text – like, the whole dialogue is hilarious, but yeah. There’s a whole chorus of people with this kind of general common sense on that specific moment too. I think like 3rd anon I’ve gotten with it and a bunch of reblogs both vocal and tag commentary like– yeah. Yeahhhhhhhhhh.

The hilarity of still arguing this bullshit about what the GA does or doesn’t get while yet another rando film major – of which every fucking time one comes into this fandom, some random person’s pride gets wounded because while they’re told the fish on a poster in the background doesn’t mean much but this entire shot blocking arrangement’s narrative is saying _________ – hOW dO u knOW bETtEr because some people fucking do – and yet again, another random film major’s commentary goes viral on twitter, this time someone’s family member, and we go through this, all the time, constantly through Dabb era. And it never stops. It just gets louder and frankly, more shrill in multiple directions.

We’re legit having this argument with the 15.08 promo out and literally even the most basic understanding of what that kind of scene framing is to even an average consumer– and people are STILL out here posing about the magical GA that’s 100% queerblind if not actively phobic nobody can ever prove on any census because every data bit says that shit died like 7 years ago for actual resistance and that’s even before Dabberens went hog wild.

Sigh.

Welcome to a show that values its conservative market, be that US conservative Trump’s America or the Russian digital demographic that is 3x the size of the US digital one; in the end, WB owns the IP. The authors can just fight to work with you with that content.

Wanting better visibility is fine. That’s what it’s all about in the end. Expecting it unilaterally in all situations is not where we’re at yet, and if this confuses anyone, I have a whole wall full of LGBTQ history and media rep history discussion. And in that also give fair warning about certain fandom ideas that themselves are far more regressive than they think they are. Definitely not roasting political activist LGBT authors in the targeted demographic we’re supposedly representing, that’s a start.

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7fics · 7 years

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Jackbum: Jackson goes to the woods to bury a body but Jaebum is already there burying a body.

Warnings: Character Death, Murder, Other stuff that comes with burying dead bodies in woodsdisclaimer: I do not promote murder, I do not hate any of the characters that die in this fic, it was just for the sake of this fic

Word Count: Just under 2k

Author: Chewt, the writer formerly known as Chewy (I changed my name because author Jenni called me Chewt on accident)

an: this is, honestly, crack with a dash of murder. characters may come off as slightly ooc because i’m making them into murderers and they are not (i don’t think) murderers irl.

Reccomended music: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HORkT4a2MhQ

“Duuuuuuude. You’re like a marshmallow. ROASTED!” Jackson pats himself on the back for a very good comeback.

“You didn’t roast me,” Mark reminds him.

“Oh, that’s awkward. I could have sworn we just had a conversation,” Jackson pouts.

“No, I haven’t talked since our first hit a while back, buddy. We’re high, not chatty,” Mark corrects, surprisingly sincere given the subject matter at hand.

“Well fuck you, I’m higher than you!”

“No, I am!”

“Prove it!”

“I can jump off this fucking cliff!”

“Why are we getting high on the side of a fucking cliff?”

“I don’t know but I’m gonna jump!”

“Yeahhhhhhhhhh! Do it! OH MY GOD YOU ACTUALLY— Wait… Mark?” Jackson calls out into the deep recesses of the void.

There’s no response but the echoes of a loud, resounding crunch. Jackson isn’t sure whether to cry in fear of what might have happened to Mark, or celebrate because he actually remembers the word “onomatopoeia” from 8th grade. He decides to do both as he scrambles down the cliff.

Really, it isn’t very high of a fall, and Jackson is sure Mark will be fine. What Jackson hadn’t bet on is Mark’s thin skull taking on the brunt of his thick-headedness. Yes. Mark didn’t jump off the cliff. He dived, like a swan, but without the grace and water to greet him at the bottom.

“What is the point of a brick head if it crumbles on impact?” Jackson laments.

Jackson really isn’t sure what the given procedure is in this scenario, but one thought does resonate. Is he an accomplice to Mark’s murder if Mark murdered himself and technically Jackson egged him on? And, if police come to investigate, surely they’ll arrest him for possession of marijuana. The situation is only looking worse.

Jackson digs around in his pocket for his phone and also inspiration. The fates must surely be looking out for him, because inspiration greets him in the form of tiny beige speckles.

“Mark always wanted to be buried as one of those tree things. I’ll do just that,” Jackson narrates, as now Mark isn’t around to tell him that his life isn’t a movie.

Jackson shakes the seeds back into his pocket, never mind that they’re tomato seeds and not acorns for oak trees. Mark looked best as a redhead anyway. Then, he gets to work tugging, dragging, and lugging. (He rhymes so well because he listens to Jay Z all the time.)

Jackson doesn’t get too far into the woods before he’s panting heavily. “I’m a fencer! We’re based on speed, not stamina!” he cries into the darkness of the forest. “X marks the spot— oh that was totally a pun, get it?” he mutters to himself, slowly spiraling into what must be shock, or maybe he’s still just high. Regardless, there is a task at hand, and Jackson is determined to finish before sunlight. It would be really awkward if somebody caught him digging a grave for a dead body in the middle of the woods.

—

And that’s why Jackson stumbles across another person not even a minute later. Ridiculous, really. Why must the fates play him in this way, always?

“This isn’t what it looks like! I promise!” He lets Mark thud back down on the ground so he can hold up his hands in the air for good measure.

“It looks like you killed someone, and now you’re trying to cover up the mess,” the other man deadpans. “Even if that isn’t it, you’re still lugging a dead body through the woods and I’d like to see you explain your way out of that one.” The man flicks his hair out of his eyes and at that moment streaks a splash of red across his forehead. Even with Jackson’s nearsightedness, he can make out the bright, foreboding color contrasting against the man’s pale skin in the moonlight.

Jackson contemplates the probability of vampires for a second before his eyes catch sight of the lump by the stranger’s feet. For a moment, Jackson thinks its a leopard, but then realizes that a) leopards don’t live here (he thinks) and b) it’s actually a faux cheetah fur coat that looks pretty shredded (in the literal sense; he can distinguish no muscle mass appearing from beneath the fur. The creepy stranger, on the other hand, is rocking the no-sleeves.)

“Wha-what about you?” Jackson stutters out. He tries to keep his cool in front of a fellow possible kind of murderer, but it’s hard being a newbie to the game of burying a body sketchily in the woods. “Is that a body?” (The question is obviously directed at the cheetah fur pile, because murderer or no, that is definitely a bod and a hot one at that. Now is not the time to think such things though, so Jackson gives himself a small slap on the face for good measure.)

“Yes.”

Taken aback by the blunt answer, Jackson coherently responds, “Oh. What? Illegal!”

“And you aren’t?”

“I’m not an illegal alien that’s what I’m not. No way.” (Nobody has to know that once Jackson went to America for a tournament with a visitation visa instead of a work visa.)

“Ok, but are you or are you not dragging a dead body through the woods and trying to bury secretly without the knowledge of the police?” the man presses.

“Well, if you put it that way… I didn’t kill him though! And still, so are you!”

“Fine, truce, we’re both dragging bodies through the woods and if the police find out, we’re going to get in trouble. What did you even do anyway?”

“Why would I tell you that? You’re a complete stranger! And you could be an ax murderer for all I know! In fact, all evidence points to the fact that you most definitely are at least a murderer, if not an ax murderer!” Jackson is in hysterics as this point. He’s still not really sure what even is going on anymore, just that he needs to move on from this place and bury Mark in some tomato seeds, or something. (But he really can’t help it if the stranger’s arms look positively ravishing.)

“You’re kind of annoying for a fellow murderer, you know? I don’t think I’ll invite you to the Murder In Trees Club after all. It’s MInT for short, you know. I’m Jaebum, by the way.”

This is the hook line sinker that reels Jackson in. “Oh. There’s a CLUB? Why didn’t you say so before, of course I’d love to join! I love making new friends! There is a contract though that says you won’t kill club members, right? Oh, do you have a secret code name? Jaebum? Jaebae? JayJay? JayBee? JB? JB! I’m Jackson, but call me JFlawless.”

Jaebum, or JB now, in Jackson’s mind, looks a little taken aback, but decides to roll with it for now. Because that’s what seasoned murderers are trained to do. “So. What happened to that body?”

Jackson’s face flickers into a thousand expressions before settling on fake smirking. (Jackson isn’t a seasoned murderer but he was a public figure for some time, so not he knows how to deal with these things.) He also realizes that now is not the time to tell the truth if he wants to join the club MInT. (The acronym is cute enough that he forgives the crime required to initiate.)

“Oh, you know,” Jackson begins, casually attempting to lean against a tree (although, being Jackson, of course he misjudged and fell over into the tree), “I was out with this kid, Mark, and we were smoking pot but he was totally hogging so I pushed him off the cliff.”

Jaebum smiles, showing all of his teeth. “Lovely.”

“Thank you, and you?”

“Ah well, really it was an accident. I didn’t mean to kill this one,” Jaebum does the tree lean, and it works perfectly for him and his long limbs. “I work in retail, you see. It’s a kind of hipster clothing brand so most of our customers are already really annoying kids. But this kid, man, his name is Bambam, always comes in with his boyfriend, this other tall ass kid, Yug-something or other.

“Well, they come in all the time. And they’re annoying as hell. Well, Bambam’s just plain annoying, Yugyeom is fine but he always asks for sizes that we don’t have. Usually, Bambam comes in five minutes right before closing time, which, ugh. Blazes through, fucks up all the nicely folded clothes, only buys one or two of the cheapest items and tries to stack as many fucking coupons on the counter as he can fit in his tiny, pre-pubescent hands.

“I can handle rude customers, up to some point. But then one night, he comes in and asks me to put on ‘the mannequin challenge song’ as if I’m some DJ, which I’m not. But he’s the customer, and there’s the boss’s motto, make the customer happy, so I do it. Takes some effort, but it works. I keep on my fake smile, keep my anger in check. Fine. But then he starts dragging the mannequins to and fro, stacking them up so he can ‘to the mannequin challenge but legit’ and then he tries to leave. And that’s when I snapped. I was not having it. Simply not at all.”

“And then what happened?” Jackson ventures. He’s a little fascinated and awed by the fury of JB’s rant. He’s pretty sure he heard a few actual real live growls, and JB’s chin seems to have elongated over the course of the rant as well.

“I’m not that good at controlling my anger. This happened,” and he kicks the dead body over, the shredded cheetah print pimp coat falling apart.

“Huh. Or maybe you’re just a gross necrophiliac. Why is the poor boy half naked?” Jackson questions.

“Because that is a horrendous coat. Would you ever wear something like that in public?”

“True.”

“Anyway,” Jaebum continues, “I only like to fuck warm bodies like yours.”

Jackson opens his mouth to respond, but suddenly he can’t get out a single word and they’re pressed up against each other, making out with a passion that Jackson has never experienced before. He’s almost sure they’ll end up doing the do in the woods, when there’s a loud crunch as Jackson stumbles across Mark’s hand.

“Oh.” He’d forgotten about the dead bodies part. “You know what. I’m way too high for this. We’ll just promise each other that we’ll keep this a secret between the two of us, and go our own ways. Thanks for the invitation to MInT, but I’ll pass.” Jackson turns to go, and then collapses where he stands.

—

“I’m sorry,” says Jaebum, standing over Jackson’s prone body. “The only way to keep a secret is if nobody knows it happened.”

Jaebum decides he’s not really that sorry. Jinyoung’s birthday is coming up, and he’ll need more than just Bambam’s thin body if he wants to harvest enough human skin to print a single edition book for Jinyoung. It really doesn’t help that Jinyoung tends not to go for the shorter books, either.

#got7 #jackbum #character:jackson #character:jb #author:chewy #genre: crack

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