#i probably read a bit more meaning into it than intended but i think it works as a motif.

[marley-manson]

Comrades in Arms has so much gender role stuff going on and I'm very into it.

Brief preamble, masculinity and femininity aren't 'traits that men have' and 'traits that women have,' they're socially prescribed attributes that can vary from society to society and are forcibly assigned to men and women. I feel like I should mention this because in addition to good things I describe a few pretty negative things as feminine and that's because they are. Because most societies, especially 50s military society, want women to have traits such as passivity. Not because they're inherent to men and women.

So anyway, I'm just gonna dive right in. A lot of Hawkeye and Margaret's bickering in the first episode revolves around Hawkeye not being masculine enough. Margaret calls him a coward when he doesn't press forward through the shelling, Margaret gets angry when he can't fix the jeep ("How can a grown man be so mechanically incompetent?"), and she asks, "What kind of man are you?" in the next scene.

Hawkeye's attitude in return is wry self-awareness. "If you don't mind, I'm going to go into a mild panic," after the coward remark. Pretending to know what he's doing with the jeep with an exaggerated casualness ("Oh sure :) no problem :) I'll have this thing going in no time :)") before kicking it and then going "that's this right?" when she tells him to open the hood. Singing a jingle and joking that it's a civil war marching song and he's just trying to be military. And my favourite, Hawkeye's answer to Margaret's what kind of a man are you is, "Certainly not a serviceman," followed by, "There's a YMCA over here. Act like you got a moustache," and topped off with calling the hut he found "cute." There's also a moment where he is aware of something military (strategic significance of the hut), which surprises Margaret, and he pointedly downplays it by claiming he saw it in a movie.

My point being that the vibe is Margaret being consistently irritated that Hawkeye isn't performing a certain kind of military-flavoured masculinity, and Hawkeye knowing it and poking fun at her frustration. Margaret wants Hawkeye to be more military and more masculine in ways that go hand in hand, Hawkeye is resistant to that and plays up the opposite, both to bug her and because it's more genuine for him. He doesn't know how to fix a jeep, he is scared of bombs, he does cruise at YMCAs, etc

There's the fun scene with the debris and Hawkeye's injured leg, where they begin the sequence with Hawkeye on top of Margaret, shielding her, and Margaret mistaking Hawkeye's injury for an innuendo when he says he can't get off of her. Then they swap positions when Margaret examines and dresses the wound in his leg, complete with deliberate innuendo this time ("Margaret, there's no time for that now, look at my wound.") Which again, kinda highlights, advertantly or in, Hawkeye being more comfortable the less he has to conform to masculine standards. Not literally ofc, Hawkeye's obviously got no problem fucking women lmao, but as a joke that serves as a continuation of this gender role stuff I think it's fun and works well.

You can make a case that they start to get along when Margaret acts more accepting of Hawkeye's nonconformity. When Hawkeye says he's tough when he refuses morphine for the stitches and Margaret sarcastically says "uh huh," before he starts screaming. When Margaret opens up to him about the letter when he finally asks sincerely and Hawkeye listens and tries to be as genuinely supportive as he can. And when they start making out after Hawkeye commiserates with her about being scared and joins her in screaming his head off about the shelling.

The next morning this gets exaggerated in an interesting way. In the first half Margaret was outwardly tough and cold the majority of the time, insisting they drive through the shelling instead of running back where they came, checking the jeep herself, arming herself before going to bed. Even when telling Hawkeye about the letter, she insisted she was fine and that she prides herself on being able to adjust to anything. Hawkeye may not be masculine, but she is.

When they wake up, she's the opposite. Warm and affectionate, exaggerating her femininity in some ways (insisting on "making breakfast," fishing for compliments on her looks by being self-depricating, sudden passivity when they see a North Korean soldier and she irrationally insists they'll be fine and he won't come in), and emotionally "open" to the point of blatantly lying about or at least exaggerating how she feels (eg saying she loves his sense of humour after not getting a joke and before castigating him for making too many jokes a few scenes later).

She's playing an overly feminine role that doesn't suit her, but that she sees as the natural state of affairs for a man and a woman in a relationship, and she tries to shove Hawkeye into the appropriate type of masculine counterpoint. Most egregiously while treating him like one of her soldier boyfriends while she's panicking about being discovered ("Oh my brave soldier, you're wonderful, you're my inspiration," and, "I love to see a strong man who takes charge like that," lol), but also when she says she'll buy him a new shirt, assuming commitment and monogamy on his part, asking if he ever shaves ("Just my legs," says Hawkeye pointedly.)

Hawkeye is still Hawkeye - unmasculine, unmilitary, unable and unwilling to be the man Margaret invented for him. As he awkwardly goes along with it at first for whatever reason, he constantly looks like he's staring down a poisonous spider, and eventually he starts getting actively sarcastic in response.

Anyway, yadda yadda yadda, after an argument Margaret reverts back to her usual self and drops the feminized roleplaying, and when Hawkeye comes to her tent after the welcome back party, she finds a happy medium in genuine emotional openness, begun and encouraged by Hawkeye.

Essentially this episode explores Margaret's relationship with gender performance with Hawkeye as a counterpoint and, in the brief moments when they connect, mainly when they're screaming in terror together and in the last pre-tag scene, a parallel. Margaret starts off the episode as her usual masculine of centre, closed off, brusque self to Hawkeye's pointedly feminine-of-centre, emotionally open self. Halfway through, to Hawkeye's terrified bewilderment, she puts on a performance of femininity that doesn't reflect how she really feels, and in no way complements Hawkeye's gender expression, which isn't masculine enough to suit her and not saccharinely feminine enough to parallel her.

But at the end she finds she can still be herself, while adopting a little of Hawkeye's more healthy femininity in her newfound attempt to be emotionally open, and that's the place where she and Hawkeye click as friends. When they're sharing their feelings and commiserating and supporting each other. When she's not trying to be something she's not, and not trying to force or berate Hawkeye into being something he's not, and they can both just be a little gender non-conforming in their own ways that complement each other.

#i will write one or two more posts about this ep probably tomorrow lol #but this is the fun one #mash #marley on mash #mash s6 #hawkeye mash #margaret mash #is this episode deliberately about gender? idk. i think it's a deliberate aspect of their relationship #i mean carry on hawkeye exists too. it's a Thing for them lol #i probably read a bit more meaning into it than intended but i think it works as a motif. #in an episode that's basically about hawkeye getting margaret to be more emotionally open the way he is it makes sense yk? #long post #mash gs

[snapnov4]

marry me | gojo satoru

synopsis: a bad idea disguised as a practical joke turns into something way deeper than you intended it to be.

wc: 1.1k

cw: just good ol fluff!

a/n: happy late birthday to my baby daddy and man of my dreams gojo satoru. i have to marry this man. i have to i have to i have to. anyways. enjoy reading this cute little fic i wrote, meaning i thought abt gojo proposing as a joke and vomited this out. enjoy!

it starts, like all things involving gojo satoru, with a bad idea disguised as a practical joke.

you're sitting across from him, in a restaurant that’s not too fancy, more of a family-type deal. he's forgone his blindfold in favor of his square-framed glasses, but his uniform is still on. he insisted on treating you to dinner after you exorcized an unregistered special grade on your own. however, with gojo, things can't always be so easy; he always adds his patented gojo twist to things, and this time the twist is this terrible joke.

“come on, it'll be funny!” he whines, from across the table.

“you want to propose to me in this restaurant for free food? when you make well over six figures a year? and have full access to thousands of years of old clan money?” you ask, incredulously, reaching to take a sip of your drink, suddenly wishing you had gone with a stronger option.

“yes, exactly. what's not clicking?”

“uhmmm, all of it?”

“look it'll be funny. you could even say no, then you can run out and i get free food as pity points,” he smiles at you, and you find it hard to keep saying no. “i mean, they'll probably all call you heartless and tell me i deserve better but that's fine.”

“okay and if i say yes, what about a ring? or the fact that we're not even together? how is anyone going to believe you?” you ask, thinking you've backed him into a corner, until he just sighs softly, keeping an easy smile, and reaches into his pocket. he pulls out a black velvet box, and shakes it a bit by his head.

“you think i hadn't planned for that?” he asks, smirking in your direction, trying to hold back laughter at your aghast expression, you drag a palm over your face, finally conceding.

“okay. fine! fine! just…try not to embarrass me. please?”

“no promises! also the waitress is coming this way, so get ready. tears are optional but preferred.”

you roll your eyes at his statement, your gaze following him closely when he stands up and walks over to your side of the table. you look around desperately hoping that no one will actually have their attention drawn to you but the thing about gojo is wherever he goes he commands attention. consequently, when he stands at a whopping 6’7 everyone’s already looking, and when he drops down on one knee in front of you, holding that little velvet box in front of you, you catch people’s smartphones shooting up immediately, great. and you're sure the vision of jujutsu’s strongest sorcerer, taking off his sunglasses and holding up a ring box to you would haunt you forever. you think right under reverse cursed technique in his list of talents, they should add acting, because the look in his eyes almost feels real.

the way your name falls so delicately from his lips, before he clears his throat, feigning nervousness. the way he struggles at first to look you in the eyes, the ring sparkling in the dim lighting. he starts:

“you are truly the most beautiful woman i've ever met, inside and out. to know you and love you is a pleasure too great for words, and i want to continue living in it every day. will you marry me?” you roll your eyes, but the smile across your face is genuine, maybe he was right, maybe this is funny. so you have no issue, saying yes, throwing your arms around his neck as he spins you around, delicately sliding the ring onto your finger. the two of you giggle all the way back to jujutsu tech, containers of your free leftovers in hand.

and so it becomes a tradition.

satoru continues to propose to you every time the two of you get the chance to have dinner together, and despite all your better judgment, you laugh and say yes every time.

and what started as a joke, turned tradition, starts to morph into something else.

satoru notices it on a summer day. you're out with the students, supervising them as they spar. the sun’s been beating down for days, he's standing beside you his eyes trained on your hands. your left ring finger has a tan line, it's from that ring. you're not wearing it, you returned it to him last night, forgetting to give it back after dinner and then desperately trying to get your schedules to align for at least five minutes, but he'd been out of town for a week and when he finally got back late last night to find you working on paperwork in your office, he didn't know why it felt like his heart sank when you slid the ring off and put it in his hand.

now, the box feels heavy in his pocket (when did he start carrying it all the time?) and he looks at you with so much adoration that had his blindfold not been on, he'd look like a love-struck puppy to any passerby. you'd been wearing the ring so much it's left a mark on you, it's obvious you'd been wearing it, the tan line a stark reminder that it was there; and something about it makes satoru wish he could make the next proposal permanent. you turn your head to him, smiling softly.

“the first years are something else this year, gojo, did you see yuuji and maki spar? they're going places,”

and he's not sure why but before he can stop himself he's blurting out:

“let me take you on a date.”

you sputter and falter, turning fully to look at him, “are you being serious?”

he nods, that goofy smile of his making you weak to his every whim, it's the same one he gave you that night at that dinner table; the same one that made you start this tradition.

so he takes you out, and then that becomes a tradition. still every day, he thinks of the way that ring looked on you whenever he slid it on your finger, and how he felt rejected every time you gave it back. he'd clear his schedule if he knew he could have dinner with you, just to see the smile you couldn't stop whenever he got down on one knee.

satoru doesn't propose anymore. he figures the next time he does it, he should be serious about it since you're his girl now. on a tuesday night, you're sitting with him on the couch, your legs are thrown over his lap and he looks at you, focused so intently on a book you've been dying to finish, the bookmark always staying near the end as you get called into emergency exorcisms, and he knows. he fishes that ring out of his pocket, the same one he gave you in that restaurant almost two years ago, and there's no fanfare, no cameras, no theatrics. he just opens the box, looks at you, and says,

“hey baby, let's get married.”

and just like the first time, you smile and say yes.

#gojo satoru x you #gojo satoru x reader #satoru gojo x reader #gojo x you #gojo x reader #gojo x y/n #jjk x reader #gojo fluff #gojo satoru fluff #jjk fluff #vela is a softie #vela loves gojo #fics #trying out a new header style also #got tired of finding those stupid manga panels

[luvjunie]

— less is more

pairing: e-42!miles morales x fem!reader

contains: some tears, a little misunderstanding but a fluffy ending

summary: miles makes quite a bit of cash from his jobs, and with his love language being gift giving he often likes to spend a lot of it on you. however, you didn’t grow up with much, and this makes it especially hard for you to accept such expensive things from him without feeling overwhelmed. wc: 1,224

a/n: based off this request! some people might find this reader easier to relate to so i definitely wanted to write it

Gifts were something that came with the territory of dating Miles Morales. Big bouquets, flashy accessories, shopping sprees at the mall, and probably every single stuffed animal he’d ever caught you eyeing whenever the two of you went out. If you so much as looked at it, it was on your fire escape the next morning. At this point, you had so many on your bed that you were starting to run out of room to sleep.

And you knew he meant well, and you tried your best to enjoy it the way you imagined you should but it was all so foreign to you. Your life was much different before you met him, and it was more along the lines of nervously checking your bank account to see if you had enough cash to buy a five dollar starbucks drink to ‘treat yourself’, or if you’d have to wait till next week’s paycheck for blended coffee with some whipped cream on top.

Most of your clothes were hand-me-downs from your older siblings, or duds you’d secured from the Salvation Army a few blocks down on the colored-tag sale days, and that was the way you liked it. Humble beginnings is where you came from and humble was the way you intended to keep it.

So now as you stared down at the small jewelry box in your hands, Tiffany & Co embellishing the top in silvered letters, trepidation began coursing through you at the size of the box alone. Anything that came in a tiny package such as the one you were holding was bound to cost more than anything you’d ever managed to buy yourself. You realized you must have been lost in thought as you sat gawking at the untouched gift, because your boyfriend’s voice sounded like it was underwater the first few times he called out to you.

“Baby?”

“Hm?” You blinked, looking up at Miles from where you were seated on his bed to see him leaned against the wall, arms crossed.

“Go ‘head and open it, don’t leave me hanging.” Miles joked, brows bunched slightly in confusion.

“Oh— right,” you laughed half-heartedly. Swallowing hard, you gently pried the small box open with hesitant fingers to reveal the prettiest diamond necklace you think you’ve ever seen. Light glinting off the encrusted jewel, Miles waited with bated breath as he watched your hand tremble towards it, a choked inhale catching in your throat as you felt the weight of the pendant alone.

“Well?” he asked quietly.

“How much was this?” Your throat felt tight; uncomfortably so, like the air in the room suddenly wasn’t the kind you were meant to breathe.

Miles glanced to the side for a moment, then stood up straighter. “I mean, I paid for it if that’s what you’re asking...”

“How much was this, Miles?” Voice trembling when you spoke, you asked again but louder, and this time he knew you actually wanted an answer.

Confused because he didn’t take you for the materialistic type, he racked his brain for the memory of the total the clerk had read out to him and scratched his forehead.

“Like… three hundred and some change…maybe? Probably four? I don’t remember. Why does this matter?” He let out a peeved sigh, eyes widening as he watched your shoulders start to shake.

“Ay, mi amor, ¿que pasa? (what’s wrong, my love?)” Miles asked gently as he rushed to sit next to you, taking the jewelry box from your loose hold. He looked down at it disappointedly, lips pursing at the necklace he’d spent so long picking out. He thought you would’ve loved it. “You don’t like it? I can get you somethin’ better—“

“No, Miles. I… It’s perfect.” Warm tears rolled past your waterline and you wiped them away in a rush, aggravated that you were even crying in front of him about something like this. How could you explain yourself without sounding ungrateful or confusing him even more?

Miles licked at his dry lips as he tried to think of what to say. He was usually so good at reading your body language, but this time he was completely lost. You could see it on his expression when you looked at him that he was having a hard time understanding what was going on, and it only made you cry harder.

“No entiendo… (I don’t understand…)” He set the box down next to him and took your hands into his, head lowered to try and meet your averted gaze. “I’m lost.. If it’s perfect, then what’s wrong?”

You inhaled a wavered breath, the feeling of his thumbs rubbing the backs of your hands serving as encouragement for you to go on.

“I just…” taking a breath, your shoulders shrugged weakly. “You spending money on me like this, I— It feels like I’m using you. You should be spending your hard earned money on things for yourself, or… saving it for better things, not spending it on me.”

“Money is nothing to me when it comes to you.” he denied immediately.

“I know, and that’s the problem.” Your lips trembled, but thankfully you were able to prevent more tears from coming.

“Y/n, I—“

“Just, please. Let me finish.” You pleaded quietly, looking up to see him slowly nod at you. “I love you, Miles, and that means I love everything you do for me as well. But I’m not used to things like this.” you looked in the direction of the overturned jewelry box. “It’s a lot.”

Silence filled the space around the two of you. You felt incredibly guilty for even bringing it up, it was never your intention to make him feel this way. There was an energy shift and you could sense him regressing back to the version of him that once didn’t know how to express his love for you.

“I’m sorry.” he murmured simply. He didn’t know what else to say, he didn’t even understand, but he offered it to you anyway.

“No no no, Miles,” You guided his doleful eyes back to you with a hand on his cheek, your tone sincere. “I love the way you love me, really, I do. You don’t have anything to apologize for. It’s not your fault— I’m just not that kind of girl and I don’t know if I ever will be. But the way I grew up and the things I’m used to have nothing to do with you, and everything to do with me, okay?”

He frowned slightly. “So… No more gifts, then?”

You shook your head. “Giving me nice things is how you show your love towards me, I know that, and it would be unfair for me to take that from you. I’d be crazy to not appreciate how you’re always thinking of me wherever you go.”

Chewing on your thoughts, you contemplated the best way to give your answer.

“Okay, so it’s like this,” you sat up a bit. “You could give me a rock, and I’d cherish it like it was the best thing in the entire world, simply because you gave it to me. What I’m trying to say is how expensive the gift is doesn’t matter, all that matters is that my wonderful—“ your head dipped to meet his avoidant eyes. “caring, and thoughtful boyfriend got it for me. I don’t care about the money, I only care that it came from you.”

Miles brightened a little at that, and started to put things together after your explanation. “So, I can still get you nice things, but… less is more?”

A melancholic smile touched your lips before you pecked his cheek. “Less is more.”

He picked the small jewelry box up from the bed. He understood you completely now, but was still a bit bummed. “Does that mean I have to return this?”

You immediately shook your head. “Of course not, baby. I love it, and I think it’s beautiful. Just keep what I said in mind for next time, okay?” He nodded and you turned your back towards him so he could put it on for you.

“Good, cause I kinda lost the receipt.” Miles smiled coyly at the slightly shaky laugh that sounded from you as he unclasped the necklace, draping it over your chest and fastening it.

You peered down at the gorgeous piece around your neck, gently gracing over it with your fingertips. Your heart warmed at the thought of him picking it out for you, how he spotted something this beautiful and needed you to have it. You had to admit, it was absolutely stunning and you didn’t think you’d be taking it off any time soon. Even if the price of it had almost sent you into shock, you were more than grateful to have a boyfriend like him.

“Thank you, Miles. I love it, really.” You faced him once again with your confession, the sincerity laced in your tone accentuating the adoration in your eyes. Your hand caressed the apple of his cheek, it raising when he smiled contently and leaned into your palm. “But I love you, more.”

#junie’s works ᥫ᭡ #miles morales fanfiction #miles morales fic #earth 42 miles fluff #miles morales headcanons #miles morales x reader #miles morales x black reader #miles morales x fem!reader #across the spiderverse fanfiction #earth 42 miles morales x reader #earth 42 miles x you #earth 42 miles x black reader #earth 42 miles x reader

[lovelyhan]

— 505 ⟢

i'd probably still adore you with your hands around my neck; or i did, last time i checked.

★ FEATURING; joshua x afab!reader

★ WORD COUNT; 3.4k words

★ TAGS; coworkers au, friends with benefits, typical gentleman in the streets sexual deviant in the sheets joshua, a hint of pining if you squint, slight angst?, smut (MINORS DNI)

★ NOTES; this specific picture of shua is years old but it incited the most visceral reaction out of me anyway so here we are with another short oneshot that sidetracked me from the monster that i'm SUPPOSED to be writing :| this also turned out a bit more emotional(?) than i originally intended, so heads up on that i guess

★ SMUT TAGS; unprotected sex, shower sex, oral (f receiving), choking, slight dumbification (i'm sorry, i normally have more dignity than this but i miss him so so dearly)

★ PERMANENT TAGLIST; @cheolhub - @pretty-trustme - @just-here-to-read-01 - @idkmelkro - @dejavernon - @venusrae - @jyiiscool - @jiniesclub - @junhui-recs - @bldelaine - @featmia - @fruitzcup - @hoeforhao - @candidupped - @billboard-singer - @caratochan - @novalpha - @dahliatopia - @0717luv - @shiveringgaze - @toruro - @mixling-blog - @minnie-mouser22 - @homerunhansol - @mirtaspace - @ti-red - @zzucculent - @woozarts - @rubyreduji - @mozellerra - @lllucere - @cheolzip - @jjjzzzz - @lissiesykes - @jeonride - @meowmeowminnie - @colored-confetti - @partiallyinfluencial - @speaknowlwt - @flwrshwa - @lilylikesthat - @aurorahongg - @whippedforjihoon - @todorokiskitten - @immabecreepin

★ JOSHUA TAGLIST; @yoonzinoooo - @scandal-in-bohemia - @lunaryoongie

Joshua arrives five minutes after the first clap of thunder and ten minutes after the rain started pouring outside.

You hear him before you see him. The automatic lock of the hotel room turns as he scans the spare keycard from outside — one that you made sure to leave with the receptionist in the lobby when he told you he'll be running a little late. When the door swings open, light spills from outside and he greets you with a smile that makes his eyes crinkle and your heart stutter.

It's the same look that makes your female coworkers swoon and giggle to themselves in the office pantry — talk about Joshua's adorable eye smile never straying too far from your ears.

If they knew what kind of person he was past the usual pleasantries, would they still engage in that kind of fanfare?

Joshua is soaked all over when he enters, having tracked rainwater all over the carpeted hallway and into the floor of Room 505. He doesn't seem all too fazed by it though — quickly shrugging off his coat before hanging it behind the flimsy plastic hooks screwed to the back of the door. He shuts it behind him with a kick, sighing through his teeth as he loosens the coil of a sushi-patterned necktie around his collar.

You got that one for him as an exchange gift for last year's Christmas party. Joshua uses it a lot more frequently than you expected him to. In fact, he always wears it during casual Fridays. You're not sure if he actually likes the stupid necktie or he's just trying to get a reaction out of you, but his choice to wear it isn't lost on you either way.

"Team dinners are really something else," Joshua chuckles as he tosses the flimsy material atop the complimentary dining table. He cards his fingers through his damp hair and you try not to think of how good he looks as he does it.

"You should've come with us. It's not often that you see Manager Yoon convince Jihoon to down a shot of soju. Oh, Seungkwan also got his ass handed to him at karaoke with the girls from sales. I had no idea Jihyo could hold her high notes like she means business."

You don't take a bite at his feeble attempt at small talk. He knows damn well why you don't show up to any of Jeonghan's team dinners, but you tell yourself that Joshua's just being polite — still thinking of the outcast of the marketing department despite the fact that you do not want anything to do with the people you work with.

...Although there are some exceptions here and there.

"Really? You're just going to give me the silent treatment all night?" Joshua sighs dramatically as he unbuttons his dress shirt — baring his rain-beaded chest to your unwitting gaze. "Well, if you need a bit more time, I'll go hop in the shower first. You're free to join me if you'd like."

He knows you won't, so you find it strange that he offers each and every time anyway.

You let your gaze wander to the full length mirror attached to the cabinets once the door to the bathroom clicks shut. There's nothing remotely special about your getup tonight. You're still donned in your work clothes — brick gray pencil skirt with a brick gray blazer to match. Apart from the heels sitting on the rack near the door, you're pretty much still in uniform.

You had half the mind to go home and change when Joshua said he's going to dinner and karaoke with your boss and some other colleagues, but that would mean you actually cared about what you looked like in front of him.

Which, for the record, you don't.

You can hear Joshua singing a familiar song in the bathroom — one that he always belts out in the most annoying way possible every time he showers. You wonder if he even knows any other song apart from that, but tell yourself you don't really have any business asking.

As the near-silence persists, however, your thoughts start to wander. Did he also sing this song when he was at karaoke earlier? Did he get to duet the high notes with Jihyo? You wouldn't put it past either of them to do so — being two of the company's renowned social butterflies.

That train of thought brings forth the same question you've been asking ever since the first night you shared this hotel room with Joshua and found him still lying beside you in the morning:

Why'd he choose you?

You're an in by nine and out by five unless there's paid overtime kind of employee. You never bothered establishing any worthwhile friendships in the workspace because you know better than to trust the backstabbing fiends in the corporate ladder. You're perfectly aware of what other people say about your individualistic behavior — how you're the worst team player in your department — but you never really cared.

Not until Joshua Hong inserted himself into your life.

To put it in the easiest way possible, he's the epitome of a perfect coworker. He's the guy that greets you every morning with an charming smile. The guy who drops by your cubicle to give you a coffee he made himself before saying you're doing a great job with that report you're putting together. The guy that everyone just adores simply because he's always been likable from the get-go.

That's the kind of person Joshua is — the exact opposite of you. Surely the jury won't condemn you for always questioning how you wound up spending your Friday nights fucking the man your entire department is basically in love with when you're so unlovable yourself.

Every time you try to recall how your transactional relationship with the company's unofficial sweetheart happened in the first place, your brain simply refuses to cooperate — memories muddled by a few pints of beer too many and an eye-crinkling smile that you're better off not rationalizing.

Besides, it's not like Joshua kisses and tells. Whatever happens in Room 505 stays in Room 505, and that's one of the many reasons why you haven't deigned to walk away from the setup altogether.

You meet up, he makes you feel good — makes you feel wanted — he cycles through whatever aftercare you might need, you fall a little more in love with him, then you both decide if you want to sleep in for a couple more hours or —

Wait.

Did you just admit you're in love with him?

"Hm? Didn't think you'd actually hop in with me today."

Joshua's voice is clearly laced with amusement as you shut the door to the bathroom — cheeks hot with both the steam billowing from the shower and the embarrassment cloying in your chest. You had the foresight to take off your uniform at least, leaving you in an unassuming set of cotton underwear that makes Joshua lick his lips with anticipation.

You make a show of stripping the rest of your clothing before him — nothing but the glass door to the shower separating the both of you. It's nothing sensual, nothing grandiose. You simply take off everything that's keeping your body hidden from your nighttime lover's hungry eyes.

When you step into the warm drizzle of the showerhead, Joshua hums before reaching for a bottle of shampoo — squeezing just the right amount into his palm as he lathers the product into your scalp.

The gentleness weighted into his actions startles you a little — not having expected him to do something so...domestic. You came in here with the full intention of getting fucked against the bathroom wall, but the way he massages your scalp so tenderly makes you reconsider your course of action.

But no matter how much of a gentleman he acts around you, not even Joshua can do anything about his own body's physiological reactions.

You feel the length of his cock nestled against your ass, hips rocking back and forth as he stimulates himself into full hardness. A soft moan tumbles out of your lips when he squeezes some of the hotel-provided body wash all over your chest — large hands lathering the soap across your body all while paying special attention to your tits.

"You finally snapped out of it, sweetheart?" Joshua sighs before latching his mouth onto the thrum of your pulse, biting down for only a moment to get your attention. "Ready to take my cock like a good girl?"

The way he murmurs those last few words along the column of your throat makes your legs feel like they'll disintegrate at any moment. Joshua continues to murmur sweet nothings into your ear, helping you clean up properly first before actually trying anything.

You're not sure if you should be pissed off or endeared by his stalling, but by the time he's finally rinsed out all the suds from your heated bodies, you're more or less ripe for the taking.

"Brace your palms against the wall, pretty girl. Yeah, just like that." Joshua chuckles softly as he presses a kiss to your nape, lips traveling down the length of your spine until he's eye-level with your sopping cunt.

"God, I'll never get tired of looking at this pretty pussy. Been thinking about sinking my cock into you all fucking week," he practically growls. "You really knew what you were doing with that cute maroon skirt you wore the other day, weren't you? The one that kept riding up your thighs when you reached for something from the high shelves? Little fucking minx."

You mewl helplessly when you feel Joshua's tongue prodding your soaked folds — forcing you to press your cheek against the cold tile as he massages your ass gingerly.

Joshua does his best to keep you anchored, making sure you won't accidentally slip as he laves at the slick between your thighs. He has no problem doing just that — driving you to near insanity with how his tongue sucks and slurps at your cunt like it's the first meal he's had in days.

"S-Shua," you whimper pathetically, pushing your ass out for more friction. "You're eating me so good..."

Had you not been so quickly drowned in this haze of arousal, you would've exercised more restraint. Joshua normally has a hard time getting you to be more vocal whenever he makes you feel good, but you suppose that there's just something in the air tonight that makes it so easy to just surrender yourself to him.

You can feel the vibrations of his laughter along the millions of nerve endings on your clit as he traces it with the tip of his tongue — further incapacitating you from coherent thought. When he slips in a finger into your awaiting heat, you all but gasp into the steamy air of the hotel bathroom.

"You're so cute when you start calling me that," he coos without halting his ministrations — that sinful tongue darting out to tease and lick and stimulate as he eases in another thick finger into your gummy walls. "Wanna eat you out underneath your desk someday... Would you act as cute as you're acting right now if I did that?"

The prospect of having sweet, gentlemanly Joshua Hong on his knees for you under your work desk makes you tighten conspicuously around his fingers. From the sordid chuckle that leaves his lips, you're fairly certain that he's noticed.

"You like that, huh? You like it when I put my mouth on you? Make you feel so good, you forget about everything else?" he chuckles darkly, rising back to his full height without taking his fingers out of your needy cunt. "But we both know this is hardly enough for you, right sweetheart?"

You hate how he knows you so well.

Joshua spends about one minute max towel drying both of your bodies before he quite literally sweeps you off your feet. You let out a surprised shriek as he princess-carries you onto the bed — gently laying you on the undisturbed sheets before crawling on top of you like a predator circling its next meal.

"Wanna tell me why you were so out of it earlier?" Joshua murmurs as he nips at your jaw, the words followed by a crackle of thunder in the distance. He chuckles when you jolt in surprise before peppering your face with a collection of kisses that ends at the tip of your nose. "It's not the weather, is it? I remember that I literally fucked you in the middle of a storm last month."

"Quit running your mouth and just fuck me," you mumble, lacing your fingers around his nape before grinding up against his leaking cock. "I've waited for you long enough."

"Ahhh," he drawls with resounding epiphany, as if he'd just figured out some ancient secret. "So you were sulking because I took too long to get here? Don't worry, sweet thing, it won't happen again."

When Joshua leans close to your ear, his hot breath fans against your flesh — making your toes curl with quiet anticipation.

"The next time we meet in this room, I'll have you mounted on my cock the moment you come through the door."

Joshua doesn't bother with foreplay or any sort of preamble. He simply guides his cock into the give of your entrance, sinking his length so deep, you can feel him in your stomach.

"Fuck," you whimper, fingernails seeking purchase across the rippling muscles of Joshua's back. He doesn't quite move yet — letting you get used to the stretch like he always does.

"Pretty pussy's so fucking tight around me," he groans. "Did you need me this badly? 'm sorry for making you wait so long, sweetheart. If I had known, I would've ditched karaoke and made you feel good as soon as I could."

Empty words uttered in the throes of passion — you're well aware that's all they are. Yet Joshua has no trouble making your heart flutter with the sentiment anyway.

"J-Joshua," you manage to gasp as you feel his girth throb inside you. "Please move... Need it. Need it so bad, please."

You're on the brink of tears with how desperate you are for mind-numbing release, but amidst your mounting delirium, Joshua sighs a little too endearingly before pressing a long, hard kiss on your lips.

"Anything for you, pretty girl."

He eases himself into you slowly at first — making sure you feel every ridge of his cock dragging along your tight walls. Joshua particularly feels smug when your eyes roll to the back of your head, addicted to the way his cock is splitting you open.

It's only when you start to loosen up that he picks up the pace, strong hands gripping your thighs as he pounds into you. The squelch of your arousal echoes within the walls secluding you from the rest of the world.

When Joshua hoists your hips higher before hooking the back of your knees across his shoulders, you knew it was all over for you.

Admittedly, you don't remember the first time you've had sex with him anymore. Or the second. Or the third. You've had each other so many times in so many ways that every instance kind of just blends into the next — painting a messy caricature of all the illicit meetings you've had with your nighttime lover.

But you don't care if it's messy. You don't care if it's strange. At the end of the day, you're comforted by the fact that all these experiences you shared with him are irrevocably yours.

Even if you can't really say the same for Joshua himself.

He stirs the pot of your arousal with practiced ease. Joshua stares at you like you're the most precious thing he's laid eyes on before letting one of your legs fall back on the mattress.

Your lover trades the depth of his thrusts for enough leeway to flatten his thick fingers across your throat — making you bleat with expectation as he presses down just enough to make you feel lightheaded. He hisses when he feels your velvet walls clamp tighter around his cock, further informing him that he's on the right track.

"Fuck, sweetheart," he laughs breathlessly — his gorgeous face the only thing you can see. "You'll let me do anything to you, won't you? All I gotta do is fuck you stupid and you'll take everything I give."

At this point, you're too far gone to even deny a word he says. "Mmmm... Your cock feels too good, Shua. 'M so close already. You'll finish inside me, won't you? Make both of us feel good?"

"Dumb little princess couldn't even answer my question," Joshua chuckles before making a particularly harsh thrust that jostles you further up the mattress. "Of course I'll finish inside this pretty pussy. It's all mine, isn't it?"

"Uh-huh," you mewl as Joshua's fingers tighten around your throat again, making your toes curl with unadulterated glee. "My pussy's all yours, Joshua. All fucking yours."

He chuckles again, fingers climbing up to your jaw until Joshua is able to prod his thumb against your bottom lip. You respond in earnest, suckling at the digit as he rails you into the mattress. There's no longer any room for intelligible thoughts — lost in the sea of pleasure that Joshua choose to drown you in every time you come together like this.

"Close, close, close," you practically sob, thighs winding around his hips as you bring him impossibly closer to you. "Shua, I'm gonna cum. Please, I need to cum. I need you—"

"You already have me, sweetheart," he laughs breathlessly yet full of intent that you're too fucked out to notice.

"You'll always have me."

That's what does you in. That's what always does you in — his sweet words, his tender gaze.

As much as the pleasure he gives with each drive of his cock into your battered cunt sends you to cloud nine, nothing makes you fall apart harder than the thought that maybe Joshua Hong is capable of loving you back.

Because how can he stare at you with so much adoration in his eyes if he doesn't actually love you at all? How can he keep meeting you like this in secret if there's no hidden agenda behind it?

But when all's said and done, you come back to your senses. Your rose-tinted gaze fades back into the darkness of Room 505.

Joshua is still beaming at you like you're the only person that matters to him on this entire earth. But you know damn well that he'd never smile at you the same way once you're out of the four corners of this room.

That's just the way things are.

As you pick off your clothes from the floor of the bedroom and the bathroom alike, Joshua stirs from where he momentarily passed out on the mattress — bleary eyes observing your every move as his brows furrow together.

"You're leaving?" he murmurs sleepily. "But it's raining outside. We should stay until it stops at least."

Hesitating for a moment, you stare at the bundle of rumpled clothes in your arms as Joshua practically tells you to go back to bed.

You know it's for the best if you don't lay back down beside him. The distance keeps you grounded — anchored to the truth that beyond these weekly trysts you share together, you and Joshua are nothing but civil colleagues at most.

He isn't your lover. He isn't even your friend.

But a stubborn part of you believes that maybe if he breaks you apart and puts you back together again, you'll be a different person. Someone who can keep up with his outgoing lifestyle. Someone he'll have no problem showing off to his friends and fellow coworkers.

But, really, when have things ever turned up daisies when it comes to you and Joshua Hong?

"Fine," you mumble, dropping your clothes in a heap next to the sushi necktie that looks more worn out now that you're seeing it up close.

You make a mental note to buy him a few more once the Christmas sales start coming around again.

"You coming to cuddle before we sleep or what?"

Joshua stares at you sleepily and expectantly from the bed, even patting the vacant space between him for added effect. If only those girls swooning at him in the office pantry could see him now...

Too bad what happens in Room 505 stays in Room 505.

⟢ end notes: finished this at 3:05 am with zero proofreading dedicated to it <3 if you spot any mistakes, they're not really mistakes since they're all crucial contenders in the creation process <333

#svthub #seventeen smut #seventeen fanfic #joshua smut #joshua fanfic #seventeen joshua #seventeen fic #seventeen scenarios #seventeen headcanons #joshua hong smut #full length fic 📚 #lovelyhan

[sugrhigh]

FEELINGS MUTUAL - ( c.s. )

summary- you and chris, a d1 lacrosse player, have been good friends since freshman year. he accidentally hurts your feelings one night while youre hanging out, and things escalate as he’s apologizing.

warnings - it’s smut (use of ma included oop) so PLEASE read at ur own risk, if u don’t like it keep scrolling cuz idgaf 🤭

bff!chris x fem!reader

a/n: this is my first one shot on here AHH! i’ll probably be writing more so if you have requests or ideas, pls send them my way xoxo

“i still don’t understand how you predicted most of that within the first thirty minutes.” chris shakes his head, arms crossed as he leans back against the headboard casually.

“i told you, i’ve got it down to a science. all scary movies are practically the same.” you shrug, clutching a pillow to your chest as you lay in his bed.

it’s late now, or early. you’ve been watching movies together all night, just like you usually do during slow weekdays where neither of you have to be up for class, or in his case, practice.

“i wish you didn’t insist on watching them all of the time.” he says.

“aw, is little christina scared?” you tease him with a small grin.

“i hate when you call me that. and nothing about me is little.” chris kicks you with his foot gently, and you nearly roll off of the bed trying to avoid the contact.

“gross.”

“whatever, you’re the one thinking about my dick.”

“i absolutely am not.” you argue, though you feel your cheeks flush.

“keep lying.”

you lift an arm out to smack him in the bicep, and he just laughs. “stop flirting, you slut.”

“if i was flirting, you’d know.” chris smirks, running a hand through his long hair.

“you think you could rizz up the babadook?” you ask, propping yourself up on your elbow to look at him properly.

“oh for sure.”

he doesn’t hesitate before saying it. he even nods his head a little bit in certainty.

“someone’s confident.” you laugh.

“c’mon, i could rizz anybody up.”

“you haven’t managed to do it to me, and we’ve been friends for two years.”

“that’s because i’m not trying to.”

for some reason, this stings a little. chris is a bit notorious for getting around, though it’s not really his fault. as a d1 lacrosse player who also happens to be very attractive, girls come falling at his feet.

you’re just not one of them, and he clearly doesn’t mind. you’re not sure why you even care.

it just makes you feel weird, that you’re the only girl he’s not attracted to for whatever reason. like you’re defective or something.

“right. i forgot you’ll hit on every other girl in the world, just not me.” your voice comes out more sour than intended.

chris looks a bit surprised, eyebrows raising slightly at your tone. “because you’re…you know…you.”

“wow, you really know how to make a girl feel good, huh?” you roll your eyes before turning to lay facing the other direction.

a hand snakes its way to your waist, a familiar sensation that still makes butterflies erupt in your stomach regardless.

“you know i didn’t mean it like that.”

you bury your head further into the pillow, trying to ignore the way his thumb is tracing circles against your hip. “whatever, chris. i get it.”

“you clearly don’t, because you’re all pissy now.” he sighs, breath tickling your skin.

“no i’m not.”

“yes you are.”

“i just want to sleep.” you lie.

chris fully wraps his forearm around your stomach now, tugging you so that your back is flush against his chest. he buries his chin in the crook of your neck, and you can’t help but smile slightly to yourself.

“all i meant is that you’re not those girls. you’re too special.” he says quietly into your ear.

you bite down on your lip to try and keep the grin from growing.

“now you’re just humoring me.”

he shakes his head slightly, stubble scratching at your shoulder in a pleasant way. “i’m not and you know it.”

you’re actually thankful you’re in a tank top, because having his warm skin on yours is nice. you’ve never felt it before, and it kind of makes you nervous.

“do i?” you question.

“you should. you’re the only girl who can get me to watch horror movies with her. the only one who sleeps over, or gets to steal my hoodies—”

“oh please, i know you gave that bitch maddy your sweatshirt. she wouldn’t shut up about it for weeks.” you cut him off.

“okay, she stole that from me and now she won’t give it back, so that’s different.” chris shuts you down quickly.

“if you insist.”

you shift slightly in his arms, and you hear him suck in a breath as you get comfortable.

“don’t do that.” his voice is strained.

“what?” you ask, eyebrows furrowing in confusion.

“don’t move like that.”

“i’m not allowed to move now?”

“not when your ass is on me.” his grumbles, and you finally get it.

“oh.”

your response is abnormally high pitched, and you’re not sure what else to say. you’re too terrified to turn even in the slightest.

“who’s scared now, huh?”

you swear he must have gotten closer, because you can almost feel his lips hovering by your earlobe as he speaks. the smile is prominent in his tone.

he’s teasing you, and it spurs a fire in the pit of your stomach that you’ve never felt with him before. you maneuver your body, and this time you purposely back your ass up against his lap.

you hear him let out a small groan that vibrates against your body, and it nearly makes you shiver.

“not me.” you give him attitude, though you’re practically breathless.

“have you really thought this through?” chris asks, pressing up against you so you can actually feel how hard he is.

you’re already pulsing, and his fingers dance back and forth across your stomach lightly. even with your shirt as a barrier, it’s too nice.

you nod in response, and his hand slides up your arm and over your shoulder, fingernails barely raking against your skin as he goes. chris grips your throat, and you push against him for some sort of friction, for anything.

“tell me you want it.” he demands, squeezing just a bit harder.

“you want it.” you manage to taunt, grabbing his arm and guiding it down your chest to the bottom of your shirt.

his hand slides underneath the tight fabric, back up your stomach, traveling to massage your left tit slowly. his thumb ghosts over your nipple, and you arch your back into him involuntarily.

“fuck.” you gasp quietly.

“no bra, huh? just for me?”

chris twitches against your ass, attaching his lips to your neck hungrily. his tongue slides against the sensitive skin, teeth digging into the flesh where your throat meets your collar.

his hand switches places, and he drags the pads of his fingers across your other nipple in a tantalizing pattern. the sensation of his touch and his mouth at the same time is bliss, and you let out a moan of pleasure.

“always wondered what you sounded like, you fuckin angel.” he praises, grinding his hips against you.

just feeling his length, pressing right against your core through the fabric of your yoga pants, makes you incredibly wet. he’d be shocked to find you’re not wearing underwear either.

you guide his hand back out from underneath your shirt so you can flip over again, sitting up slightly as you move to straddle him. he’s already bucking up into you, whining from the feeling of being underneath your hips.

“don’t tease me. i’ve waited too long for this.” chris pulls your arm down so he can give you an actual kiss.

his lips are soft, molding against yours desperately as his hands grip your ass. you rock against him as his tongue slides against yours, and he groans into your mouth.

“god, i love hearing that.” you admit against his lips.

you pull away so you can lift his shirt over his head, trailing your long manicured nails down his chest slowly, right along his happy trail. he throws his head back against the pillows, relishing in the feeling.

you can tell he’s growing frustrated though, and suddenly he grabs you by your waist, throwing you down so your back hits the mattress.

chris helps you out of your top like it’s a race, tossing it to the floor with his other clothes. he positions himself over you, capturing your lips with his hungrily.

you bring your hands up; one tugging at the curly strands of hair on the back of his neck, the other clawing at his back.

he likes this, smiling into you before biting down on your bottom lip harshly. chris pulls away, pressing kisses down your throat, down the valley of your chest, but not without moving his tongue back and forth against each nipple at least a few times.

it makes you writhe, hands tangling in his sheets as he continues.

“jesus, chris.” you’re basically whimpering.

he stops right at the top of your leggings, looking up at you from between your thighs like he’s asking for permission.

you lift your hips as an answer, and he tugs the slick material down over your feet. the air hits you, and you can feel how embarrassingly ready you are.

chris lowers himself to you again, pushing your legs apart with both palms.

“you’re so pretty, ma. so fucking wet for me, too.” he mumbles, kissing and nipping at your hip, down your inner thigh, right next to where you need him most.

ma. he’s never called you that before, and you like it way more than you should.

without warning, he slides his tongue flat against your pussy in one long stripe. his lips come down around your clit, sucking and flicking his tongue against it slowly.

“holy shit—” you gasp, and your fingers tangle in his hair again, tugging at his roots as he buries his face further.

you’d been given head before, but it never actually felt good until now. chris’s fingers grip your thighs as he continues to force them apart, tongue moving up and down against your center at a faster pace now.

you can feel the pressure building, but you know you want more. you want to make him feel good too.

“oh my god baby.” the pet name slips out without even thinking, your head is so fuzzy with pleasure.

“fuck, call me that again.” he pulls away just enough to speak coherently.

“i need you inside me, baby, please.” you beg desperately.

“so ready for me, so eager.” he practically growls, sitting up so he can yank off his sweatpants, tugging his boxers down with them.

his dick is just as big as it felt, definitely the biggest you’ve seen in person, which is a little scary. he puts a hand to your mouth, turning your head to the side slightly.

“spit.”

fuck, this is hot.

you happily do as your told, and he pulls his hand back to spread it around his dick. his other arm goes to prop your one leg up as he aligns himself at your entrance.

chris pushes in slowly, and you both let out a long moan at the same time. you can feel him stretching you, and it takes a minute for you to adjust to his full length.

“fuck…” he says in that breathy voice you love so much.

he moves out, then back in, steadily picking up his pace as you get more comfortable. you have to give it to him, the kid knows how to use his hips.

“mmm…you feel so good around me,” chris grumbles, lifting your leg a little higher.

he hits a new spot, and it sends delicious waves of pleasure through your body.

“yes, right there!” your eyes screw shut, and his free hand goes to reach for your tits.

“fuck ma, i can feel you squeezing. taking it just like a good girl.”

such a pretty mouth saying such dirty things, things you didn’t think you’d ever in a million years hear from your friend. and yet, it feels exactly like it should.

he’s practically pounding into you now, and the little noises he makes drive you crazy. his free hand shifts so his thumb rubs against your clit, and you feel your core seize up.

“chris!” you cry out, and that damn smirk crosses his face again.

“tell em, angel. tell them exactly who you want.”

his fingers feel so good combined with his strokes, and this time the building pressure in your stomach is too much. you know you don’t have a lot longer left as your body begins to shudder.

“fuck, chris, i’m so close—”

“just a little longer, hang on for me.” he says, movements growing sloppier as he reaches his own peak.

his nails dig into the skin of your thigh, a bit of pain that is not unwelcomed. chris circles his other fingers around you faster, and you let out an even louder gasp.

“i’m—”

“fuck, me too. come on baby, come all over me.” he cuts you off, and you feel him twitch inside of you as he finishes with a groan.

“shit!” you ride out your own high, releasing onto his dick as he slows to a stop. you’re both completely breathless and sweaty as he pulls out, and you immediately feel at loss.

he leans down to give you a little peck before collapsing beside you.

“i’ve seriously dreamed about that so many times.” chris says, arm splayed across his chest as he stares into your eyes.

you cover your face with your hands in embarrassment. “stop it.”

he’s quiet for a moment, and you peek through your fingers to look at him.

“you know this means more to me, right? you mean more to me.” he speaks softly, like he’s scared of how you’ll react.

you finally reveal yourself again, smiling more widely than you’d care to admit.

“good, cuz the feelings mutual.”

#chris sturniolo #christopher sturniolo #smut #chris sturniolo smut #sturniolo triplets #fanfic #oneshot

[octoberclidan]

It's Just Sam

Request: ok im not used to requesting yet so sorry if im doing this wrong but im sad so i need me some early seasons sam fluff (MAYBBBE EVEN SMUT🫢)like reader jokingly calling him sammy and he starts acting all weird or something (andd somehow leads to smut?)

Pairing: Sam Winchester x Reader

Note: This is 18+, do not read if you're under 18.

Masterlist

Story:

"So, it's all over now?" [Y/N] asked, wrapping her cardigan tight around her, the cold night air forming goosebumps on her arms.

"Should be, you saw him burn up, right?" Sam asked, looking up to the room of the hotel where they'd all just spent an hour being thrown around by a vengeful spirit.

"Yeah... yeah I did". She chuckled, not quite believing the night she'd just had.

"You were awesome, the way you dodged him and figured out it was the painting, you handled that like a pro". Dean smiled at her and clapped her back, causing her to stumbled forwards a little. "Sorry". He grimaced but she laughed it off.

"It's okay, nothing compared to being thrown around by a ghost for an hour in a little hotel room".

"How's your arm?" Sam asked, looking at how she was holding it with her other hand.

"It's fine, I think it'll just bruise. Nothing broken anyway. How's your back? You got thrown against that wall pretty hard".

"Oh he's used to it, right Sammy?" Dean smirked at him.

"Sammy?" She asked, looking up at the man who had just saved her life. They had burst into her room just as the ghost had appeared, time to exchange names hadn't really come up yet. Now that she was looking at him properly, she could see genuine concern in his face. He was extremely handsome, very tall, very broad, but was crossing his arms as if he was trying to make himself seem smaller, maybe less intimidating than he naturally came across as.

He cleared his throat, glaring at Dean. "It's uh, Sam. It's just Sam. Dean's my brother, it's just him who calls me that".

"Oh.. I'm sorry". She blushed and looked away from him.

"No don't be, it's fine". His cheeks now blushing too. "You should get some rest, I bet you're tired".

She shivered from the cold and looked up to her hotel room, the light still on. "Yeah... not sure how much sleep I'm gonna get after all that, plus the smell of burnt paint". She laughed, the heat from her breath fogging the air.

"Maybe they have another room you could switch to?" Sam suggested but Dean hit him on the back of his head, [Y/N] missing the interaction as she continued to stare up at the room, visions of the ghost still at the front of her mind.

"Or Sammy could stay with you, protect you, he's good at that". If she'd been more familiar with Dean's voice she would've heard the smirk through it. "I'm gonna head out to the bar and I don't intend on being back until morning, so there's a spare bed in our motel room just down the road. Not as fancy as this hotel but as motels go, it's not bad". She turned around to see him wink at her.

"I wouldn't want to intrude, I could-"

"You wouldn't be intruding!" Sam cut her off quickly. A little bit too quickly. He cleared his throat again, and avoided Dean's direction, though he could already see Dean's smirk very clearly in his mind. "I mean, you probably wouldn't get much sleep staying here tonight, and the motel isn't that bad. I'm sure you have questions too, I don't mind answering them?"

"Oh, well yeah, if you really don't mind then that would be nice". She smiled at Sam and he nodded at her, visibly relaxing and now hopeful that he didn't come across as too enthusiastic.

"We'll help you get your stuff, then I need a drink". Dean clapped Sam's shoulder and pressed his hand to the small of [Y/N]'s back, pushing them in front of him to stand beside each other as he guided them back through to the hotel's reception. Sam's arm brushed against [Y/N]'s and he mumbled a 'sorry', looking down at her and rolling his eyes back to his brother, smiling when [Y/N] giggled at him.

***

"Sorry again about Dean". Sam said as he opened the door to the motel room. He had [Y/N]'s bag over his shoulder and she followed behind him, not being able to help her eyes wander across the large expanse of his back. His jacket and t-shirt had rucked up a bit from the bag and she could see tanned skin just above the waistband of his jeans.

"It's okay". She said as she closed the door behind them. Sam let the bag down on one of the beds and went to sit on the other, facing her. "Thanks for everything". She breathed out as she walked to the bed with her bag on it, sitting down beside it and facing Sam. "So, this is what you guys do? Kill ghosts?"

"And monsters, demons, anything that hurts people really". He shrugged casually, and she widened her eyes at how nonchalant he was about it.

"All of that is in this small town?"

"No, no we travel around. We're actually kinda looking for our dad at the moment, we just take on cases as we come across them".

She sat there for a moment, taking it in. Just an hour ago she had no idea that anything supernatural existed, and now she was sitting opposite a guy who hunted supernatural beings for a living. "How long have you been doing this? You and your brother?" She asked and he looked away, almost a look of shame on his face.

"My mom died when I was a baby, Dean was four. Demon. My dad's been hunting it down ever since, so I guess I've been in it pretty much my whole life. Except, I spent four years in college, Dean came to get me a few months ago". She raised an eyebrow at this.

"You went to college? Like, to study the supernatural or something?"

"No". Sam chuckled. "I was studying law actually". He looked back to her and smiled sadly. "Wasn't meant to be. This is my life, me and Dean. Saving people, hunting things, the family business, as he says anyway". He sighed, as if he was relieved to have someone to explain it to. "What about you? What brings you here?"

"This is just a stop, I'm on my way home from staying with a friend for a few weeks. I should be home tomorrow afternoon". She covered her mouth as she yawned. "I think I should get some sleep, I have a long drive ahead of me tomorrow". He nodded as she said this.

"You should use the bathroom first then". He said and she stood up, smiling at him before grabbing her bag and heading to the bathroom. She closed the lid on the toilet and sat on it, taking a deep breath and letting it out slowly. She wasn't actually that tired, but looking at Sam for so long was difficult. He was incredibly attractive, genuine, and big. If she'd sat in front of him for any longer she would've found it difficult to hide the fact that she'd been pressing her legs together, trying to relieve some tension. She felt ridiculous. She'd just found out about the supernatural, had been thrown around by a ghost, saved by two strangers, and was now alone in a motel room with one of them, and all she could think about was touching his skin. She imagined how his hair would feel between her fingers, how his lips would feel on his neck, what he tasted like...

"[Y/N]"? Sam's muffled voice travelled through the door as he knocked on it. She shook her head and cleared her throat.

"Yeah?"

"You okay in there?"

"Yeah... yeah give me a minute".

"Take your time, just checking on you". She stood up and looked into the mirror above the sink. Just checking on you, she added 'considerate' to her list of adjective for Sam. She quickly turned on the tap and splashed some cold water into her face in an attempt to calm herself down. She stripped out of her clothes and rummaged through her bag for her pyjamas, setting them on the counter as she pulled out her toiletries. She scooped up her hair onto the top of her head, securing it there as she stepped into the shower. She was pleasantly surprised to find the water hot, making sure to make it quick and not use it all up.

Once she was washed and into her pyjamas, which consisted of a loose t-shirt and shorts, she left the room and walked past Sam to her bed. He looked up at her as she walked by and he swallowed nervously, trying not to stare at her bare legs or how the baggy shirt left part of her shoulder exposed. He quickly excused himself to the bathroom, and she lay back on the bed, her mind once again wandering, imagining what the room she'd just been in now looked like with Sam in there. She imagined how the water looked dripping from his body, how he'd spread the soap over his torso, his legs, his arms. She let out a shaky breath as she pictured what was happening just beyond the thin wooden door between them.

She was pulled from her thoughts at the sound of the door unlocking, and she tried not to stare as Sam stepped out, dressed in jeans and a new t-shirt which just about fit, apart from his arms, where it hugged his muscles a little too tight. Droplets of water dripped from his hair onto his shoulder as he sat down on his bed, looking straight at [Y/N], watching her as she looked at his body, no longer able to stop herself. He chuckled and this caught her attention, pulling her gaze up to his face, where she noted his dimples before locking eyes with him. "What you thinking about?" He asked, grinning at her. She blushed and swallowed, looking away and shaking her head.

"Sorry".

"Don't be. I should take a look at that arm, just to check it". He said as he stood up to cross over to her bed, sitting on the edge of it and reaching his hand out to her. She sat up and reached towards him. He lifted her arm and placed it in his hand. He was warm, safe. He looked it over and gently turned it over, a look of concentration on his face as he examined it. "Just a bruise. Dean was right, you were great in there".

"You think?" She asked quietly, her arm still in Sam's hand.

"Yeah, a lot of people freeze. You didn't, you listened to us and figured out what needed to burn. It was refreshing". His thumb now lightly glided over her skin, leaving a trail of goosebumps as it did. "Are you cold?" He asked as he saw her try to hide a shiver.

"A little".

"Why don't you get under the covers then and get some sleep, I'll help you with your stuff in the morning". He smiled and let go of her arm before getting up, giving her space to pull back her covers and slide in.

"Thank you again, for everything. I can't imagine what would have happened if you two hadn't shown up when you had". She looked up to him as he sat back down on her bed.

"You're safe now". He smiled. He leaned over cautiously, giving her time to move away, and pressed his lips to her forehead. Without thinking she reached up and lightly touched his cheek as he pulled back slightly to look into her eyes. She absentmindedly stroked his jaw, slightly scratchy from the light shadow of stubble on it. When he made no indication of pulling away farther, her thumb lightly skimmed his lower lip, and he brought his hand up to rest on her cheek, returning the favour. He kissed her thumb, keeping eye contact with her.

"Sam". She whispered, not calling to him, not trying to get his attention, just liking the feel of his name on her lips. She slipped her hand to the back of his neck, letting his damp hair slip through her fingers as she made an attempt to pull him closer. He obliged, leaning down so his lips hovered over hers. They closed their eyes as their lips touched, both of them slightly hesitant. She licked at his lips and he immediately let her in, deepening the kiss as their tongues worked together. Her grip in his hair tightened and he groaned, pushing her hands around her back and pulling her up, letting the covers slide off and lifting her, putting his hand under her knee to pull her over onto his lap so she was straddling him. His hands rested on her hips, slowly encouraging her to grind against him as she broke the kiss, kissing down his jaw and settling into his neck where she kissed and licked. He leaned his head to the side, giving her more access as he pushed one of his hands under her t-shirt, grabbing her waist.

"I want to feel you". She whispered into his ear as her hands trailed down his sides to the hem of his t-shirt. He threw his head back and groaned before leaning in to kiss her jaw.

"Take it off then". He mumbled into her skin. She grabbed his shirt and pulled up until she couldn't reach anymore, then he helped and threw it into a corner of the room. She sat back in his lap and placed her hands onto his chest, feeling his heart beat quickly beneath them. Slowly, she let her hands fall down his chest, feeling the muscles in his abdomen tense as she glided over them. He shivered as she reached his waistband, his skin warm under her finger tips. He grabbed her hands and placed them over his belt. "Take it off". He whispered into her ear, returning his hands to her waist as she began to unbuckle his belt. Once his belt was off, he pushed her shirt up and over her head, immediately reaching around to unclasp her bra, leaving her in just her shorts. He stared at her for a moment, blush slowly creeping onto his cheeks as he thought about the situation he was in. "You're beautiful". He tentatively raised a hand to grab a boob, the other resting on her hip, one of his fingers dipping into her waistband. She returned to his neck as he felt her, moaning as she kissed up along his jaw and finally settled on his lips again. She could feel him hard beneath her as she rocked her hips back and forth over him.

"I need more". He decided as he flipped her over onto the bed and crawled on top of her, kissing up her stomach and between her breasts, up along her neck and jaw to her lips. She clung onto his shoulders as he reached down and pushed her shorts down. "Can I have more?" He whispered into her mouth and she nodded immediately.

"You can have whatever you want, Sam". She kicked off her shorts and spread her legs for him. His fingers danced around the top of her panties before they dipped inside. He groaned at the wetness and continued to kiss her as he pushed a finger inside, feeling the warmth and softness of her. "Sam". She moaned as he used his thumb to brush against her clit. He continued to work her up, slipping another finger inside, and then another, hitting just the right spot inside her. When he felt her tighten up he'd pull away for a moment, smiling as she whimpered, before working her back up again. "I want to feel you too". She moaned after his third go at edging her. He pushed himself off her and stood up. She looked up as he stood between her legs and pushed his jeans and boxers down in one go, his cock standing up against his stomach as he stepped out of his clothes. She quickly pulled her panties down and kicked them off as Sam leaned over to the bag on his bed, pulling out a little silver foil.

"We don't have to do everything if you don't want to, just let me know". He said as he lay the foil down on the bed and pulled her up into a sitting position. He remained standing between her legs as she looked over his body. "You can touch me, if you want". He said as he tucked her hair behind her ear. She nodded and reached forward, closing her hand around him and smiling as he twitched against her touch. She began to slowly pump him up and down, twisting slightly, brushing her thumb over his slit to collect some of the precum and spread it over his length. "That feels amazing". He groaned as he knocked his head back, starting to thrust into her hand. She leaned forwards and licked him from the base to the tip. "Fuck". He muttered as he looked down at her. She knew he'd taste good, and looking up at the pleasure on his face just made her more eager to continue. She took him completely into her mouth, hollowing her cheeks as she continued to lick around him. He grabbed her hair and held it back as she blew him, enjoying every moment until he pulled her off him. "I won't last if you keep that up, I want to be inside you".

"I want that too". She wiped her mouth quickly and pushed herself back onto the bed as he grabbed the foil. He tore it open with his teeth as if it was something he did every day, and for the first time that night, she wondered just how many times he'd slept with the girl he'd saved. She quickly pushed that out of her head as she watched him roll the condom on, pinching the tip before crawling back over her. He rubbed his tip against her entrance a couple of times before looking into her eyes. "Are you good?" He asked and she nodded, keeping eye contact with him as he slowly pushed inside her, pulling a moan from her lips. "Fuck... you feel good". He chuckled quietly as he leaned down to kiss her. "Can I move?" He asked as he pecked the corner of her mouth. She quickly nodded and wrapped her legs around his waist, pulling him even closer. He kissed her again as he pulled out, leaving just the head inside before thrusting back in. They kissed each other as Sam rocked his hips into her, quickly slipping into a steady pace. He reached down to circle her clit as he kissed her neck and she gasped at the sensation.

She could feel the pressure building back up again, stronger than before now that Sam was filling her, hitting the right spot with each thrust, giving her clit just the right amount of attention. She lightly bit his earlobe and kissed his jaw as he remained nestled into her neck, the vibrations from his moans spreading throughout her. They began to moan each other's name as she tightened around him, all of the pressure suddenly being released and travelling up throughout her body and down through her legs. She shook around him as he stilled inside of her, spilling into the condom. He collapsed on top of her, resting his head in between her neck and shoulder as he caught his breath. She turned her head to kiss his cheek and pushed her hand into his hair, gently rubbing his head while catching her own breath. "Sorry". He mumbled into her. "I'm squishing you". He pushed himself up and leaned his elbows either side of her head before ducking down to kiss her lips. "You're incredible".

"So are you". She giggled and cupped his cheek, pulling him back down for another kiss. "I think I need another shower".

He chuckled and nodded. "Yeah, yeah I think I need one too. Wanna share?" He asked and she nodded, letting him pull her up with him. She expected him to let go once she had her feet on the ground, but he scooped her up into his arms and held her against his chest, carrying her into the bathroom. "I think we'll only need one bed tonight". He grinned at her, showing off his dimples again as he set her down in front of the toilet, leaning into the shower to turn it on.

"Definitely". She grinned back at him.

The end

#supernatural #supernatural fanfic #sam winchester x you #sam winchester x reader #sam winchester smut #sam winchester imagine #sam winchester fanfiction #sam winchester #sam x reader #sam winchester x y/n #spn smut #spn fanfic #spn #spn fanfiction #supernatural fic #supernatural fanfiction #supernatural fluff #supernatural imagine #supernatural reader insert #supernatural smut #sam winchester fic #sam winchester fluff #dean winchester

[popponn]

call you later; 1.

notes: what if you didn't pick up their call? they left a voicemail, in their own ways. characters: isagi yoichi, itoshi sae, seishirou nagi. [ part 2 : rin, bachira ]

isagi yoichi

Probably felt a little bit sad you didn’t pick up. You are probably his first crush—and only, for a long time, maybe, and this boy is committed with capital C when he is into something—so don’t be too hard on him. Like, hey, his #2 after the soccer itself didn’t pick up his phone? Poor guy.

But like the considerate boy off the pitch he is, Yoichi will immediately give you a brief of what he wanted to tell you before leaving the classic note of ‘i will call you again later’. It won’t be overly long, as he prefers to talk to you rather than to the empty void of a voicemail. Or at least he intends so to seem polite and proper, until he stutters and tripped all over his words a little bit. It’s cute though.

All in all, probably one of the most normal guy from Blue Lock, as usual, and whatever sad feelings he had from getting his call not being picked up will be gone the moment he got the chance to talk to you. A little advice, just make sure to actually call him later—knowing you reach out to him as soon as you can will make Mr. Egoist pretty happy.

“Uh, so… are you busy? Wait—you are not picking up of course you are busy…” Yoichi trailed off with a nervous laugh. “But, so, anyway, about our promise to walk around Saitama, I was wondering if your schedule is free this Sunday? I got two weeks off Blue Lock but I kinda want to make sure we can do it as soon as we can, so if anything comes up—ah, but I didn’t mean it in a bad way!”

It took Yoichi a few seconds to gather his composure before he continued, “I mean, uh, yeah, I just want to do it with you soon. I will call you again so we can talk about it later! Work hard, or have a good time! See you!”

itoshi sae

First of all, how dare you. He is famous and probably have people lining up for his number while you get him punching your number and didn’t pick up. Just for that, Sae might throw a tantrum, albeit a silent one.

On a more serious note, he will raise an eyebrow honestly, especially if you are the type to usually answer. But he is pretty independent most of the time, so he will only left a few words on the voice mail. In some occasions, though, when he just calls for the sake of listening to you, he will feel a little bit down. You can cheer him up later—you should, actually. Sometimes talking with Sae requires advanced mind reading technique and when he is a little bit down or pissed you really have to use that skill. Because boy, this guy is pretty constipated emotionally.

So, end notes, just call him real soon, okay? He might act cold and tough but he is also someone whose favorite show is Chibi Maruko-chan. He won’t say much in the voicemail or act like it afterwards, but he might really wait for you to call back, especially if he didn’t hear anything from or about you for a day. Though, honestly, just call him back or answer his next call before five seconds so everyone could be saved from his scathing vocabularies.

“What do you want for dinner? I’m picking you up later,” Sae said without wasting a second. “Hurry up and decide, then call me soon, got it? And in case you are thinking of anything funny, finish whatever you are working on first, then call me as soon as possible.”

For a moment, it was as if he was done. Then, a few beats of silence passed and he continued, “…and honestly… nevermind. Just call me soon.”

nagi seishirou

Yeah, let’s be real—he won’t leave a note and just give up. He willed out energy to call you first and you asked more from him? Wow. The fucking audacity.

But, let’s say, he really really wants to talk to you at the time and is in a really really really good mood—it will be long, if only for the long pauses. He will speaks sparsely, like the personification of bullet notes, as he doesn’t really see the point in talking if you are not really there to begin with. But, at the same time, Nagi Seishirou is also a Blue Lock egoist and he thinks having you listen to his voice note for a long time is not exactly a bad thought.

In the end, though, he really just want to hear your voice, actually. So, sooner or later, he will end the note with a ‘call me soon’ and plays a few games while waiting for you. The guy really need to recharge whatever small battery he has with you, so you really better call back if you don’t want to deal with a pouty Nagi holding a petty grudge for three minutes. And come on, do it for Reo, dude has way too much on his plate already.

“Eh, why are you not picking up?” Seishirou started with a complain, before immediately staying silent for a long time. Clearly on purpose, rather than for trying to remember something. “…I want to talk to you, so call me later, ‘kay?” he continued, in the end. “Choki also misses you by the way. You love Choki, right? So you really better call me back.”

Then, as an afterthought, he added, “Oh, I also have something I want to show you. So, let’s meet up next week. That’s all. Later.”

#bllk #bllk imagines #blue lock #blue lock fluff #bllk x reader #bluelock x reader #blue lock scenarios #nagi seishiro #itoshi sae #nagi seishirou #isagi yoichi #itoshi sae fluff #itoshi sae x reader #nagi seishirou x reader #isagi yoichi x reader #isagi yoichi fluff #nagi seishirou fluff #i finally write a scenario!!!!! yay!!! #you can see who is my oshii but trust me i love em all

[0daylighthours0]

A Deep Dive into Milkvan and Byler's Development: If Milkvan Was Endgame All Along, Why Was it Written Like This???

SO. I've been rewatching st with my mother, who's never seen it before. And she was a fan of milkvan throughout seasons 1 and 2. Viewing those seasons again I could see why, they're cute. However, come season 3 and INSTANT distaste. And, listen, my mother is not the consciously shipping gal. She simply routes for main character pairings as writers intend, doesn't read between the lines, doesn't nothing. And she does NOT know my own opinions on the pairing. In other words, completely unbiased, uninternet drama influenced eyes. We've now reached season 3 and, after getting through a chunk of it, I asked her,

"so what do you think of Mike and El?"

and she expressed to me that they seem to be, quote:

"not very good together."

She said El's character doesn't suit the way she's acting now (in the first few episodes, concerning Mike), that Mike is more likeable and interesting when he's away from her. She doesn't like the way they ditched the party, and when it comes to their 'making out' the scenes are seen by her from Hopper's perspective (in other words, distasteful). She claimed that they'd be much better characters as friends.

And ya know what, she's right. And I mean like - duh, that's what we've been saying all this time, I'm not stating anything new here. But guys, wouldn't it be strange if the central couple of the show, pivotal that it is liked by audiences and is rooted for by them as they are THE pair, would be so dislikable like this? So uninteresting, so cliche.

I mean, okay, let's do a little mental experiment I like to do to test if I'm not just acting delulu. Let's play a game. In this game, milkvan ARE meant to be endgame. They are in love, they were all along, and they're here to draw in viewers and appease all El stans. Now, seasons 1 and 2 their relationship is honestly fine. Surface level, yeah, people will watch and appreciate them. They perfectly blend in with all the other neat pairings of the seasons, and have their own unique character traits to stand out as a main couple.

Just pretending our mate Will doesn't exist, we now get into season 3. Now, writers have nothing to lose here. If you've finished season 2, you probably like milkvan already. The issue is that they're already together now, so what's the conflict going to be? The arc? And every central couple needs that conflict to stay juicy.

Just take a look:

Jancy: quarrels, struggle to understand one another

Jopper: not yet together, one sided? will they won't they

Lumax: ...

Lumax? Lumax. Huh, guess they were simply together. Some loveable bickering, maintained a friendly dynamic while clearly in closer proximity. Well then, writers can do the same for milkvan right? Well, yes easily. But one might argue that since they are supposed to be THE pairing they need more going on between them than that. So what'll it be? Well, it seems that writers thought,

"hey, why not break them up?"

ok so.. that's a bit risky. I mean you want people to like this ship, if you break them up then that threats: 1. there being a disliking to one or both characters, 2. coming off generic if done incorrectly, 3. the break up might make no sense considering how in love they came off as just a season ago. But hey.. it could work, if done right. Some kind of misunderstanding, similar to Jancy. Maybe an argument leading to a sudden parting. I mean, yeah, Yeah! I can see that. Perhaps Mike is being too overprotective whilst El's trying to sacrifice herself for something, so she NEEDS to separate herself from him attempting to hurt him less. Or, I dunno, something akin. What's crucial is that us, AS THE AUDIENCE, still know them to be deeply in love. I mean, we have to still want them to be together. And we've seen couple trouble before. Just take a look at Lumax season 4 - did you or did you not want the best for both of them as a pair? You most likely did. See, it's doable. So did people like milkvan season 3 the same way, even after a separation plot? No.

Okay well, there are obviously those who'll always love milkvan no matter but, see, season 3 tainted it. "We need to write them like this cause it's more realistic to teenager behavior" my ars. You can make it messy without making it icky. Not only did it sour their unique dynamic, it flabbergastingly stomped on Mike as a character.

Honestly, I feel Mike has always been a mild struggle to write. Season 1 his motivations were 'find Will' (who still doesn't exist in our mind game yet shh) and 'protect El'. This worked well for him. Afterwards though, El and Will became more separate plots to him. But as a main character it remained integral that he be closely linked to them somehow. This sets him apart from Lucas and Dustin, who can easily be given any arc any season as their plots have the flexibility of a side quest nature. Since what Mike does is meant to matter more - with there probably being a better way of phrasing that but you know what I mean - it's harder knowing what he'll do when El and Will (who we'll GET to sh.) are their own separate people. And Mike is just a boy, he doesn't have super powers and he isn't a cop, which leaves there even less for him to do which is of significance. Season 2 writers decided upon having him support Will's arc, making himself of enough relevance by being able to take credit for some Will development in the story, and the plots that surrounded that, and then Mike was thrown a little bone by being the one to come up with the idea of burning those vines in the finale.

Truthfully, you don't really remember Mike's deeds much when reminiscing the series. It isn't like Dustin who's bond with Dart sticks to everyone, or Nancy and Jonathan responsible for kicking out Hawkins Lab. This is due to them, again, being able to traverse all sorts of adventures without limits. But my guy Mike can't do dat. Sadly, this kind of leads to him coming of as a little.. well... insignificant. And I know I know, the Mike truthers are gonna come at my throat. And hey! I love him too. I only want the best for my boy.

This makes season 3 a unique case cause it seems that, for the plot they decided they wanted, writers actually had to almost entirely change his character. I mean mate s2 Mike and s3 Mike are two different peoples, don't even. And I don't believe that the Duffers had their story and character turnouts completely drawn out from the very start at all. If I was to guess, I'd assume they have vague ideas of little plots they plan to include in future, but there is definitely a lot that has come unpredicted or changed throughout st's runtime. And one of those phenomenons are Michael Wheeler. So they decided to make this guy a di-

So they decided to make him more douchy, more movie typical teenage guy. It's not as if he wholly sucked, he didn't, but he didn't really do much. Whined about his girlfriend, separated the party. I mean what even was his arc? (UnLESS–)

You see, if milkvan is written to be loved, then season 3 was strike one. All of its charm was stripped away. It seems they had some cute scenes after their reconciliation, but it's not enough. It's just sort of

"oh, ok, so they're happy with eachother now. yayy."

and Stranger Things should want to be anything but boring. Sure they often enjoy indulging in tropes, but they always do something different with them. Something standoutish. And from this point on milkvan just got dull. Either writers ran out of ideas or lost interest, honestly (still with our mind game of telling ourselves they're meant to be).

But it's okay. Look, so season 3 was a bit rocky, maybe lost a couple of fans for the guys, but it is salvageable. Easily, easily. Looks like we want a plot of Mike struggling to tell El he loves her. Great! Much to work with.

So let's get into it. Season 4! Choices were... made. And, okay, now we can't go any further without bringing in our boy Will.

Mike is intrinsically tied to Will and El and has been from the start. Maybe Will was more of an accident. Maybe s1 Will was just a plot device for Mike, then s2 Will was a plot device again and Mike needed to be there as the main boy character. Come season 3 and it seems their relationship still matters. Will was sidelined - hard - so most of Mike's moments revolved around El. But as his bond with Mike is the only that's been properly built up, that's the only friend we'll get him interacting with in a way that matters. So the Mike and Will tie continues!

But that does not have to be the case for season 4. Now the writers have a chance.

They made Will gay.

Ok so.. ok so yeah that's fine. Yeah! I mean they didn't have to do that, might put them in hot water with the bylers since milkvan is their golden beauty but.. you know what no no that's okay. He's been hinted at being queer since episode 1, why not make it canon! Cool that works. Explore that, especially since we now have Vecna who can easily target Will for this. Give him a boyfriend! Or a guy crush. He's at a new school now? That's cool. Maybe we can explore some new male character Will's taken interest in. Hey maybe he meets someone who interests him which rises to surface his whole sexuality plot and-

he's in love with Mike.

Ok. No. No. What are you doing? What do you mean?? You didn't have to do that. Strike- strike EFING TWO mates! Strike. 👏 efing. 👏 2!

This was part 1. I am tired and gots to get my ars in bed. But ohohoh, do not worry. I am just getting started.

#anti milkvan #anti mileven #byler #byeler #stranger things #mike wheeler #will byers #byler is real #byler is endgame #byler analysis #byler nation #byler proof #byler is canon #byler endgame #byler tumblr #stranger things 4

[manias-wordcount]

Actually, whatever link you think is best for eating out a reader lol

You have good taste (no pun intended) I trust your judgement here

Eating S/o Out HCs (Adult Link)

𝗔/𝗡: 𝗵𝗲𝗹𝗽 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝘄𝗮𝘆 𝗶 𝘄𝗮𝘀 𝘀𝗼 𝗲𝘅𝗰𝗶𝘁𝗲𝗱 𝘁𝗼 𝘄𝗿𝗶𝘁𝗲 𝘁𝗵𝗶𝘀. 𝗶 𝗴𝗿𝗲𝘄 𝘂𝗽 𝗮𝗻 𝗹𝗼𝘇 𝗳𝗮𝗻, 𝗶 𝗵𝗮𝗱 𝗧𝗛𝗢𝗨𝗚𝗛𝗧𝗦 𝗮𝗯𝗼𝘂𝘁 𝘁𝗵𝗶𝘀. 𝗵𝗼𝗽𝗲 𝘆𝗼𝘂 𝗲𝗻𝗷𝗼𝘆 𝗲𝗵𝗵𝗲𝗵𝗲 :)

𝗪𝗔𝗥𝗡𝗜𝗡𝗚 !! 𝗶𝘁𝘀 𝗻𝗼𝘁𝗵𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝗯𝘂𝘁 𝘀𝗲𝘅𝘂𝗮𝗹 (𝗼𝗿𝗮𝗹) 𝗰𝗼𝗻𝘁𝗲𝗻𝘁 𝗟𝗢𝗟

𝙒𝙖𝙣𝙩 𝙩𝙤 𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙙 𝙢𝙤𝙧𝙚? ⇒ 𝙈𝙖𝙨𝙩𝙚𝙧𝙡𝙞𝙨𝙩

𝙟𝙤𝙞𝙣 𝙢𝙮 𝙙𝙞𝙨𝙘𝙤𝙧𝙙 𝙨𝙚𝙧𝙫𝙚𝙧?

Skyward Sword

Favorite Position?

You? Sitting on his face.

Sleepy boy likes to take things easy

So having you grind on his tongue all you want while he’s laying in bed? The absolute dream

He definitely won’t be too loud when he’s with you since his mouth is a little more than occupied

But you can earn yourself a groan or two from him whenever you dug at his hair

He probably likes the fact that he has the perfect view of your expressions while you make yourself feel good

But try not to run away from his mouth when things start to feel too good

Because he’ll be quick to grab your hips and keep you right where you started

He might seem a bit lazy but the Hero of the Skies is always gonna finish what he started- including you <3

Twilight Princess

Favorite Position?

You on your back with his face between your thighs of course!

I’m talking full-on muff diving

He’s 1000% the type to enjoy eating you out just because he has so much control over your body and your pleasure like this

Not to mention, he can watch you squirm and whine all he wants with the perfect view

He’s definitely really good at reading what you need and want from him

And he’s even better a giving or denying you that too, unfortunately

But if you’re close, you’ll get exactly what you want as long as you beg for it <3

And I mean really beg for it- wolf boy is a sweetheart but he doesn’t work for free

Though just try not to act too surprised when he tongue fucks you through an orgasm

Breath of the Wild

Favorite Position?

Him kneeling before you as you throw a leg over his shoulder and he goes to town

Bonus points for him if he can get away with eating you out while outside and against some random tree

They don’t call him wild for nothing <3

Now he’s been out of the game for a little bit so he might be a little rusty

But don’t worry- he makes up for all of that with his enthusiasm hehe

Out of the Links, he’s the one who will practically beg you to let him go down on you because he’s bored and has nothing to do while dinner cooks

But whatever happens…do NOT pull his hair. no matter how good it feels

You don’t want to encourage him too much while he’s already up your skirt

You do want to be able to walk on your own two legs later, right?

Hyrule Warriors

Favorite Position?

69 with you on top, naturally

He’s definitely a bit of an ass man so I hope you don’t mind him spreading and playing with some cheeks

And of course, he loves the feeling of your lips wrapped around his dick don’t get me wrong

But to him? It’s not as good as seeing you try to look back at him when he’s going crazy on that clit

He obviously going to be good at what he does- like have you seen him

With the way he fights it’s should come as no surprise that his first move is going to be trying to overwhelm his opponent (or in this case, you <3)

Loves receiving and giving sure but he’s the type of guy to get off on seeing his partner whimper and moan and struggle to keep up

So you can expect things to get a little more than heated as he attempts to make you scream his name

He won’t stop until you’ve made a mess of his face so you better hold onto to something- like that scarf perhaps?? ;]

#legend of zelda link #link legend of zelda #legend of zelda x reader #link x reader #link #skyward sword link #skyward sword link x reader #twilight princess link #twilight princess link x reader #breath of the wild link #breath of the wild link x reader #hyrule warriors link #hyrule warriors link x reader #skyward sword #skyward sword x reader #skyward sword fanfic #skyward sword fanfiction #twilight princess #twilight princess x reader #twilight princess fanfic #twilight princess fanfiction #hyrule warriors x reader #hyrule warriors fanfiction #hyrule warriors fanfic #breath of the wild x reader #breath of the wild fanfiction #breath of the wild fanfic #tp link x reader #tp link #ss link x reader

[cleo-fox]

Wildest Dreams

Summary: It's nearing ten o’clock at night and James Conrad is standing on your doorstep.

Pairing: James Conrad x Female Reader

Warnings: Smut, 18+, Minors DNI, dirty talk, praise kink, sex, vaginal fingering, oral sex (female receiving), friends to lovers, mutual pining.

A/N: Sometimes, you're having a conversation with @sarahscribbles and something she says triggers your latent James Conrad brainrot and words happen. Saz, this is dedicated to you. 😘 (Also, everyone go read her stuff).

It's nearing ten o’clock at night and James Conrad is standing on your doorstep.

You didn’t even think he was in the country—last you’d heard, he was somewhere in Vietnam. Not that he was exactly keeping you apprised of his movements. The nature of his work means that he turns up or calls unexpectedly and sends letters inconsistently. It’s something that you’ve grown used to over the years—you’ve had no other choice, really.

The question, though, of whether or not you’ll be waiting for him is not really a question so much as it is an inevitability. Of course you will. You always will. Like it or not, the man is your weakness, your Achilles heel, the crack in your armor.

Your hands shake as you fumble with the latch and chain and open the door.

There’s a moment where you catch his first, unguarded expression—a flicker of relief, so quick you might miss it if you didn’t know him as well as you do. It strikes you as odd—you’d expect him to be glad to see you, perhaps, but relieved? Not necessarily. Especially not after the last time you’d seen him—that disastrous Christmas two years ago when wine and seasonal sadness had prompted you to say more than you intended about your feelings for him.

He’d said you were better off as friends.

It still stings, even thinking of it now. You haven’t spoken of it since. He hadn’t been back since then, either—that in and of itself wasn’t necessarily unusual for him, but you couldn’t help but wonder if there was more to his absence this time around.

Before you can think about whether it’s a good idea, you’re stepping forward to embrace him. You always forget how tall he is, how he takes up space and towers over you, how that makes you feel small and safe. He still smells the same—Ivory soap with a hint of cloves and a little bit of musk—and your name still sounds too good in that deep purr of a baritone.

“It’s good to see you,” he says into your ear.

Is it just you or is he holding you awfully tight?

It’s probably just you. Isn’t that the sad theme of all of this? Just you with the feelings, just you with the broken heart. Just you, secretly pining for him since university and having it all come to nothing. Just you. Alone as always.

“You too,” you say, even though seeing him makes all the old bruises and scars on your heart ache with a renewed fervor. You release him and gesture to your door. “Come in.”

You notice a cut on his left cheek, a small, yellowing bruise blooming around the edges of it. It must be a few days old. He carries a duffle bag slung over his back—a huge, beat up leather thing he’s had since university. He sets it on the floor as you lock up behind him.

“What are you doing here?” spills out of your mouth before you can think about how it sounds, despite the fact that your eyes are drinking him in like he’s water in a desert. “I thought you were in Vietnam.”

“Pacific,” he says. There’s a slight shadow in his expression, like there’s something he doesn’t want to say. “Just got back this evening.”

“Do you want tea?” It’s the only thing you can think to do.

“Please,” he says.

You don’t need to ask him how he takes it because you know. English Breakfast, splash of cream, no sugar. You could make it in your sleep.

You busy yourself in the kitchen, fishing out a packet of shortbread biscuits from the back of your cupboard while the kettle boils. Out of habit, you take out the pair of chipped mugs you’ve had since university. You’d unintentionally taken one from the refectory during a particularly sleepless week in the middle of exams and been too embarrassed to return it. He’d teased you about it at first, but he had then stolen his own mug the following week in what he described as “solidarity with your crimes.” When you moved into your first apartment, he’d given you his as a housewarming gift.

“This could really hurt my career if they found out about it,” he’d said solemnly as his eyes danced with barely repressed laughter. “I thought it would be best to give it to you for safe keeping.”

You’d rolled your eyes and laughed at him then, but you always wrapped them extra carefully when you moved—as though by keeping those mugs whole, you could also keep Conrad safe.

The faint ghost of a smile that you catch when you bring the tea and biscuits out to the living room warms your heart and gives you a little spark of hope. Perhaps all isn’t lost. Maybe things can go back to the way they were before that disaster of a Christmas.

You set the mugs and shortbread down on the table and take your seat next to him on the couch.

Your tea is still too hot, but you pick it up anyway, just to give your hands something to do. Maybe the slight sting of the hot ceramic against your palms will help you keep you grounded.

“I presume you’re not telling me where in the Pacific for a reason,” you say.

He nods. “Correct.”

He looks tired, you think. There’s a tightness in his jaw that’s new, a distant look in his eyes that seems different than his usual brand of stoicism. You want to be annoyed by his lack of detail, but the weariness makes you pause.

“Are you all right?” you ask.

His laugh is short and humorless. “As I ever was.” 

You tilt your head. “That’s not really an answer.”

He exhales, running a hand through his hair. “It was a difficult job.” He pauses for a moment, his gaze sliding to the wall across the room, to a landscape painting you’d found at a thrift shop. “I didn't know if I’d make it back, to be quite honest.”

You’ve never seen him like this before and it’s somewhere beyond disorienting. Conrad is ruthlessly capable and appropriately confident; the idea of something being beyond his skill set is baffling as it is unsettling.

“I’m glad you did,” you say softly.

You expect him to give you a slight half smile, perhaps nudge his shoulder against yours. But instead, his gaze remains fixed on the middle distance, an odd, melancholy sort of cast to his blue eyes.

“You don’t really seem like you’re all right,” you say gently.

There at last is that little half smile that you were expecting. Somehow, it’s less comforting than you thought it would be.

“There’s a certain amount of clarity that you get from an experience like that,” he says evenly. “You're forced to confront a lot of things. Choices you’ve made. People you’ve hurt.”

You think he’s referring to what happened two years ago and you try not to flinch. He can’t know that you still think about that, that you’re still hurting. That you haven’t stopped loving him, even though you’ve pretended that you have.

He pauses for another moment, worrying his bottom lip between his teeth. “In the moments when I thought I wasn’t coming back, the only thing I could think about was you.”

Air vanishes from your lungs. You’re afraid to even hope, as if even acknowledging the possibility would jinx it.

“What do you mean by that?” you ask, your voice barely louder than a whisper.

He finally looks at you and your heart creeps into your throat. “I was not entirely honest with you at Christmas.”

You realize that you’re holding your breath, but you can’t help it.

“I thought that by turning you away, I was keeping you safe,” he says. “I thought by hiding the truth, I was saving you from a lot of pain.”

Your heart is pounding. You lick your lips. If he means what you hope he means, you need to hear him say it—you can’t believe it otherwise. 

“And what is the truth, James?” Your voice wobbles just a little bit.

His gaze is locked on you, infinite as the stars. “The truth is that I’ve been in love with you for years,” he says softly. “And when I thought I wasn’t coming back, all I could think about was how much I regretted not telling you.”

In the moments leading up to this, it felt as though time was slowing. This is the moment, though, where everything stops. In this moment, it’s just the two of you—Conrad with those devastating blue eyes that peer right into your soul and you with your broken heart and wounded pride.

He wanted you all this time.

You raise a shaking hand to wipe away the tear that’s somehow escaped the corner of your eye.

All this time.

“You have every right to be angry with me.” His voice is low and soft, just for you to hear. “And I understand if you need time. But I came here tonight to tell you that if you still want me, I’m yours.”

You are feeling entirely too much. You want to kiss him. You want to scream at him. You want to hold him and never let go.

All this time.

“James, I—” Your voice catches in your throat and you take a deep breath, fighting back a sob that’s bubbling in your chest. You set your tea back down on the table. Your hands are shaking. 

“I—I don’t even know where to start. I—” Your voice catches again on that sob in your chest. You pause again to collect yourself. You open your mouth to speak and a strangled sort of laugh tumbles from your lips instead.

“God.” You wipe another stray tear from your cheek. “You’re such a fucking idiot. I mean, not just for making all those assumptions about what was best for me, but also just—” Your voice catches again and you pause. “I never stopped wanting you.”

The corner of his mouth twitches slightly and there’s a flicker of something like hope in his eyes. “Does that mean you’ve forgiven me?”

You take a shaky breath. “Yes and no.” You wipe your eyes with the back of your hand. “You should have asked me if safe was what I wanted, instead of just making that decision for me.”

He nods. “I know. I’m sorry.”

“Nothing is safe, James,” you continue. “It’s an illusion at best. You could live a perfectly dull life in the suburbs and be hit by a bus on your way to your perfectly dull job.” You pause, weighing the words that you want to say next. “I never wanted safe,” you say, your voice catching again in your throat. “I just wanted you.”

There’s a moment of quiet and Conrad looks well and truly chastened.

You take another deep breath and reach for his hand. The look that he gives you then—like he’s afraid to hope that youstill want him—is almost enough to make you abandon what you want to say next and kiss him on the spot. 

“I know what I want,” you say quietly. “I understand the risks. You don’t need to throw yourself on the sword to protect me and you certainly don’t need to make those decisions for me. I need you to understand that if this is going to work.”

He nods. “I do.”

“Okay.” You exhale. “Will you shut up and kiss me now?”

The look of relief on his face is like sunshine.

“Come here,” he says softly, pulling you into his lap, your legs framing his hips. He cups your face in his hands, looking at you like you’re something wonderful, like he can’t believe you’re his.

Then he takes a deep breath and finally closes the gap between you.

You’ve waited years for this kiss. From the early days of your friendship coalescing around late nights and stale coffee and jokes that are only funny at two o’clock in the morning to the agony of watching him leave for basic training and then Vietnam and god knows where else. This kiss was never guaranteed—and in part, that’s why it’s so good. It could have been taken from you by any number of dangers or even just Conrad’s own foolish need to protect you.

But you finally have it and it’s everything you had thought it would be.

His mouth is slow and soft against yours, his tongue moving in a gentle caress that makes you feel every year of waiting and yearning and hoping. You mourn the years lost, but you can’t help but savor how perfect it feels as a result. Your hands map the sharp lines of his jaw and cheekbones as your tongue traces the soft line of his lips. You want to remember every part of this moment—every part of him. 

It’s a few minutes later when you part, both of you slightly breathless. You rest your forehead against his.

“I shouldn’t have waited so long,” he says softly. His eyes are still shut.

You press your lips against his forehead. “Make it up to me, then.”

He slides a hand up to the back of your neck and pulls you back into another kiss.

You can feel the press of his growing erection against your thigh, but for now, it’s enough to just kiss him, to let your body melt against his and feel his hands in your hair, on your hips, framing your face. He makes a low, soft noise in the back of his throat when you nip at his lower lip, somewhere between a moan and a sigh and you think it might be the best sound you’ve ever heard.

But the longer you kiss him, the more you want, and it slowly begins to build a far more frantic need low in your hips. His hands become bolder, sliding along the curve of your waist and hips, stroking your thighs, squeezing your ass as he pulls you ever closer. You, in turn, press yourself more firmly against him, rolling your hips against his until he makes that low groaning sound that leaves you weak.

But it’s his hand wandering up to slip that first button on your blouse that makes you pull away from him, breathless.

“Bed?” You intend it as a question, but it sounds a little more like a plea.

His smile is devilish as he undoes the second button. “I thought you’d never ask.” His gaze slides back down to your open blouse and he quickly slips the third and fourth buttons.

“I thought we were going to bed,” you say with a smirk as the final two buttons come undone.

“We are,” he says as he pulls your blouse off your shoulders. You shiver under the weight of his gaze as he stares greedily at your breasts. 

“You seem a little distracted,” you say.

“Well, I can’t very well leave a job undone,” he says, trailing a finger along the scalloped edge of your bra. “It wouldn’t be proper.”

“Yes, you seem deeply concerned with propriety,” you say, shooting a pointed glance at his finger.

“Very much so,” he murmurs, his fingertips caressing the curve of your breast and then skimming behind your back to unhook the clasp in one single, swift motion.

The straps slip down off your shoulders and he tugs the garment away from you.

He lets out a low groan as he looks at you, which sends a bolt of slick desire straight to your cunt. His hands cup your breasts.

“Perfect,” he murmurs, rolling his thumbs against the sensitive skin of your nipples. You squirm slightly in his lap and he gets a devilish look in his eyes.

His mouth quickly replaces his right hand on your breast.

He’s too good with his mouth. That’s the first thought you have as his lips and tongue cover your breast. But then he catches your nipple between his teeth and gently teases and pulls at the sensitive skin until it puckers and hardens in the heat of his mouth. Your hands rake through his hair, curling into a fist when he finds a particularly good spot. You are arching into his touch, your hips rolling mindlessly against his. 

“James,” you gasp out. “Bed, please.”

He laughs quietly against your breast. You expect him to release you, but instead he moves his mouth to your right breast.

“Fuck,” you hiss as his tongue and teeth exert the same kind of blissful madness on your right breast while his hand kneads and teases the left.

You find yourself torn between begging him not to stop and begging him to take you to bed and you’re honestly not sure which one you want more. But a minute or so later, he releases you, lips curling into a smirk. 

“I think you enjoyed that impropriety,” he says, eyes sparkling with a combination of desire and laughter that leaves you dizzy. 

“You’re on thin ice, James Conrad,” you say, though you can’t hide your smile.

Desire overshadows the laughter in his expression, like the moon eclipsing the sun. “Let me take you to bed and earn my forgiveness, then,” he says.

You slide off his lap onto wobbly legs, but you don’t have to worry about it for very long because he immediately sweeps you into his arms and carries you down the hall to your bedroom.

In your room, he sets you down on your bed and divests you of your jeans with such speed and efficiency you find yourself wondering if it was part of his training.

You slide back on the unmade bed, looking up at him as he looms above you, handsome and a little dangerous in the moonlight that breaks through your curtains.

He allows himself a moment to just look at you, his gaze moving slowly up your body, drinking you in like he’ll never have enough.

Finally, he crawls onto the bed, his gaze intent and hungry, filled with purpose.

He stops at your hips, spreading your thighs wide, licking his lips as he looks you over before lowering himself to kiss the gusset of your underwear.

You can feel the hot rush of his breath against your cunt, the thin, damp fabric the only thing that separates you from the warmth of his mouth. He kisses the fabric again, his nose nudging against your clit.

“James,” you choke out.

This is all he needs tonight. His hands immediately go to your waistband and pull the fabric down and off your hips.

You both groan at the first brush of his mouth against your cunt, though the noise you make is admittedly much closer to a whimper. His tongue circles your clit slowly at first, teasing and tasting and testing until he finds the motion that makes you gasp his name.

You’d thought he was joking about earning your forgiveness, but the way he moves is as though he believes his absolution is truly on the line.

Or maybe he’s just really good at this, you think. It might not be that deep. You don’t need to overth—

Almost as though he can tell that too many of your brain cells are available for coherent thought, he slides one long index finger into you, curling and searching until he finds the spot that makes you gasp and dig your heels into the firm muscles of his back.

He’s building a warm, whirling tension in your hips, burning bright as a meteor about to strike. You grasp at the bed sheets as the rolling crescendo of sensation threatens to overwhelm you. 

His free hand snakes up to find yours clasped in the sheets. His fingers twine with yours.

Something about this little gesture of affection after all those years of wanting and hoping strikes at something deep within you. You’ve never loved anyone like you’ve loved him. You don’t know that you ever will love anyone like you love him.

And maybe it’s that thought, or maybe it’s just a coincidence, but this is the moment you come completely undone.

You cry out as your back arches, pleasure rushing through you. His grip on your hand feels like the only thing keeping you tethered to reality as your whole body succumbs to the feeling. He slows the pace of his tongue to match the rolling swells of the aftershocks as they roll through you.

“James.” It’s the first coherent word you say and he draws away from your cunt reluctantly, though not before placing a soft, lingering kiss against your clit.

Before you can make a joke about how he’s overdressed, he’s sitting up and peeling that ridiculously tight shirt over his head. Your lips part as you feast your eyes on that beautiful expanse of muscle, firm and perfectly sculpted—

—and painted with a massive bruise across his ribs, brilliant and purple as a sunset.

Your post-orgasmic stupor is momentarily forgotten as you roll to your knees, crawling over to him. “You’re hurt.”

He looks confused for a moment before following the path of your gaze. “Oh, that. It’s nothing. Looks a lot worse than it is.”

“The same way your broken finger was nothing?” you say, fingertips trailing to just beneath the edges of the bruise. The broken finger had happened in your last year of university during an unsanctioned game of rugby. He had insisted it was just sprained, even though it was nearly black in color. You knew better and had dragged him to the hospital, where he was informed that not only was his finger broken, but that it was so badly broken that he’d need surgery to set it. Over the years, it had evolved into your go-to example of why he needed to listen to you, the damning piece of evidence that proved he could be too stoic and hardheaded for his own good.

Privately, though, it was also your way of saying that you cared about him, that you worried that his high tolerance for pain and admittedly impressive abilities might lead to him not asking for help when he needed it.

He rolls his eyes, but his gaze is fond. “You’re never going to drop that, are you?”

“Never. You should know that by now.” You put your hands on his shoulders. Should you tell him what you feel? You hesitate for just a moment, but it’s enough for him to notice.

“What is it?” he asks.

You suck in a deep breath. “I want you to be okay with me caring about you.” Your voice is softer than you intend.

He frowns slightly and places his hands on your hips. “How do you mean?”

“Stuff like this,” you say, tracing the edge of the bruise. “I know you say it’s nothing but…” You swallow. “And maybe it is but…you’ve always acted a little like my caring about you—even as a friend—was this massive liability for me.” You place your hand over the bruise. “And it’s never felt that way to me at all.”

You can’t quite read his expression. “What does it feel like?” he asks.

You move your hand over his heart, feeling the steady, even beat under your fingers. “Like you’re someone that I love and I want you to be okay,” you say softly. “Is that really so horrible?”

He runs a thumb along your jaw, leaning his forehead against yours. “Not at all,” he says.

You pause for a moment, your hand on his heart. “I just—I don’t want safe, okay? Just you. Let’s start with that.”

“Okay.” His eyes trail down your face to your lips, but he waits for you to close the gap.

You do.

There’s a part of you that wonders if you said too much too soon, if you have instead succeeded in scaring him off, but he kisses you so deeply that it immediately mutes your anxiety, blunting the cacophony of your fears into a muffled background noise that’s easy to dismiss. When your hand starts to drift toward his belt buckle, he pulls away, the desire in his eyes setting your body aflame. “On your back, my lovely,” he says softly.

You lie back on the bed, staring greedily as he finishes undressing.

He cuts a striking figure, lit by the moonlight streaming in through the curtains. Even with that wicked bruise splashed across his ribs, he still looks like something divine and he’s staring at you like you’re equally remarkable. The thought makes you shiver.

The mattress dips as he crawls back onto the bed and positions himself over your body.

The tip of his cock nudges against your stomach. You reach between your bodies, wrapping your fingers around the hard length of him. He’s long and thick, big in a way that makes your toes curl in anticipation. A low, pleased groan rumbles in his chest.

He leans in to kiss you as you stroke him slowly, savoring every sound he makes, every sharp intake of breath. After a moment, he places his hand over yours, guiding your hand away. You angle your hips up toward him, wrapping one leg around his waist.

He presses the tip of his cock against your soaking cunt and you suck in a sharp breath. He looks at you and grins as he slowly drags his cock from your entrance to your clit and back, coating himself in your slickness.

“You’re a tease,” you say.

“Just making sure you’re ready for me,” he says, eyes glinting too much for that to be the whole truth.

“I can tell when you’re lying, you know.”

The tip of his cock slowly slips inside you and you gasp.

“Can you?” he says casually, like you’re just having a chat over drinks. He eases back out.

“What happened to the man who was going to earn his forgiveness?” you say.

He grins, pressing his cock back against your entrance. “Oh, I think you’re enjoying this.”

It’s a difficult assertion to deny, especially with the way he rocks into you slowly, each time going just a little deeper—but never quite deep enough—before drawing back. It’s not long before your hips are rocking with his, urging him deeper.

“More,” you breathe.

A smirk curls at his lips. “More?”

You don’t know that you have the words to describe the particular empty ache you feel, or the fact that you know it’s only going to be soothed by the steady, rocking thrust of his cock fully inside you. “Please,” you say instead. “Please.”

“I’ve waited too long not to savor you,” he says. He eases inside you another inch or so before pausing.

“James.” There’s desperation in your voice that you’ve never heard before, a slight whimper that makes you feel wild with need. “I need you.”

“You’ll have me, darling,” he says as he leans in to kiss you. He’s easing forward slowly, but this time, he keeps going until he’s buried to the hilt, hips flush against yours. You whimper, relishing the feeling of him inside you, close as you can be.

“Good girl,” he murmurs against your lips. “I knew you could take me.”

You can’t help the way your body reacts to his praise or the soft moan that falls from your lips.

He notices. Of course he does. You feel him smirk as he kisses you and he pulls back slightly to look at you. “Do you like hearing me call you my good girl?”

You nod, but you don’t need to—your cunt flutters around him, tensing.

“Oh, I can feel how much you like that.” He lowers his voice. “My lovely, good girl.”

He slowly rocks his hips once and your breath hitches.

“So very, very good,” he purrs. “You’re taking me so well, darling. And every time I call you my good girl, you feel even better.”

You shudder again as he settles into a devastatingly slow rhythm. Maybe it’s his size or maybe he just knows his angles, but he’s hitting every sensitive place inside you in just the right way and god, you never want him to stop.

“Do you want to be very good for me?” he says in that same low voice.

“Yes,” you breathe. It’s hard to describe how much you want to please him, how much you want him to say your name in that low, deep purr of a voice and tell you that you feel incredible, that you’re doing so well for him. You want to give yourself over to him, let him claim you as his.

“If you want to be very good for me,” he continues, “you’ll come on my cock.”

“Yes,” you say. “Please.”

“Let’s see what we can do about that.” He’s shifting his weight slightly, propping himself up on his left arm, bringing his right hand to your clit. His fingers slowly roll over the throbbing bundle of nerves and you moan.

“Oh, that feels good, doesn’t it?” he says. “I don’t think you’re going to last very long if I keep doing this.”

You whimper something that might have been words at one point, but disintegrated into an unintelligible mess of vowels and consonants somewhere between your brain and your mouth.

“In fact,” he says, his voice dropping impossibly low, “maybe you’re going to be a very, very good girl and come more than once on my cock.”

You whimper, your hips rolling with his. The combination of his fingers on your clit and his cock inside of you is driving you crazy, pushing you closer and closer to the edge.

“Can you do that for me, sweetheart?” he rasps. “Can you be a good girl and come on my cock?”

You can feel your orgasm building, that coil in your hips winding tighter and tighter. You nod.

“Look at me and tell me what you want,” he says.

“I—yes.”

“Yes what?”

“I want to come.”

He shakes his head. “That’s not what I said.”

“I want to come on your cock.”

“Still not quite right.”

Something like a combination of a laugh and a whine falls from your lips. “James—”

“I want to hear you say it, love. All of it.”

“Fuck—” You can feel yourself inching closer to the edge. 

“Tell me.”

“I want—” You shudder against your impending release. “I want…I want to be a good girl—and come on your cock.”

“Good girl,” he purrs, increasing his pace ever so slightly. “Now come for me.”

You’re not sure if it’s the fact that he made you say it out loud or because he told you to come or if it’s just a very well timed coincidence. Either way, your back is suddenly arching and your cunt is clamping down hard on his cock as you careen into an orgasm that makes your whole body tremble.

But as good as it feels, you can’t help but be captivated by Conrad—the way he slows his pace, the sound he makes. You can tell he’s struggling to stay in control and the fact that a man noted for his cool head and ruthless calm is struggling to keep his composure because of how you are making him feel is somewhere beyond incredible.

He pauses for a moment, seemingly to collect himself. He looks at you as you tremble through the aftershocks, drinking you in like he can’t quite believe the wonder of what he’s seeing.

“You’re heavenly,” he says softly.

You reach for him and he leans down to kiss you, his hips still moving at that agonizingly slow pace.

“I think it’s your turn, though,” you murmur against his lips.

He draws back and that intense, hungry look is back. “My turn?” he says, raising an eyebrow. “Did you not tell me you were going to be a good girl for me?”

“I just came on your cock,” you say. “Wasn’t that the agreement?”

“I believe I said that if you were very good, you would come more than once.” He accompanies this with a sharp thrust of his hips as he lowers his lips to your ear. “And I know you want to be very good.”

Your breath is already hitching, your back arching as your legs lock around his waist. “Fuck.”

His voice has dropped again to that low growl. “Do you know how utterly incredible you feel when you come?”

His fingers are back at your clit and you whine.

“It took every ounce of my strength not to spill myself inside you the moment your sweet cunt started trembling around me.” His breath is hot on your ear and you can’t help the way that your muscles clench around him.

He groans low in your ear. “Fuck. Yes. Like that.”

His pace is still so slow and steady and that almost makes the buildup more unbearable. You don’t understand how you’re already so close, but you can feel the tide of your orgasm rising once again.

“Oh god,” you moan.

“I can feel how close you are,” he growls. “And I’m not going to be able to hold back.”

“Come for me,” you say, your voice rough with desperation.

“You first,” he says. “Then I’ll make you mine.”

“I’ve always been yours,” you choke out before your voice cuts off with a cry as your orgasm starts to crest. It’s just as intense as your last one—the edges of your vision go white and fuzzy and you let out a primal moan.

Conrad’s pace increases as he fucks you through it, his mouth open in a soundless gasp.

“James,” you whimper.

He lets out a low moan seconds before you feel the warmth of his release inside you.

He leans down to kiss you and it’s as though you’re both moving through molasses—every touch, every sound feels slow and sweet. He finally lets his head drop to your shoulder when his hips still. He exhales slowly, the heat of his breath warming your shoulder.

“We should have been doing this for years,” he says after a moment.

“I mean, there was a reason why I called you a fucking idiot earlier.”

He lifts his head to look at you and he’s failing to hide his smile. “I suppose that’s difficult to dispute.”

You press a kiss against his forehead. “You can keep earning my forgiveness. I certainly enjoyed this first attempt.”

“Mmm, I have several other ideas.” He kisses you softly and slowly before slowly pulling away. “But let’s get cleaned up.”

He makes you stay in bed while he fetches a wet washcloth from your bathroom and carefully cleans you up. It’s sweet and intimate in a way you don’t expect—no one’s ever done this for you before. 

He returns to bed and you curl up together, your cheek resting on his chest, his fingers tracing patterns on your shoulder.

You’re quiet for a bit, mulling the question that sits on the tip of your tongue like the sword of Damocles, ready to fall and smash your easy peace to bits.

“What is it?” asks Conrad before you can summon the courage.

“Hmm?” you say, though you’re pretty sure he’s going to see through your lie.

“You’ve got something on your mind.”

You pause, wetting your lips. “How long are you in town?”

His grip on you tightens, like he understands. “For now, as long as you want me to be.”

You lift your head to give him a skeptical look. He strokes your cheek.

“I’ll have another job eventually,” he says. “But not quite yet.”

“Okay,” you say.

He’s quiet for a moment. “This part of it…it’s not going to be easy.”

You hear the unspoken part of this—he’s giving you a chance to back out, to call this a one off, to keep yourself safe.

“Once again, I never said I wanted easy,” you say. “I just want you.”

He draws you closer, pressing a kiss to the top of you head. “You have me, my love,” he murmurs. “I’ve always been yours.”

#james conrad smut #james conrad x reader smut #james conrad x reader #james conrad x female reader #james conrad x female reader smut #james conrad x reader fanfic #james conrad x yn smut #james conrad x yn #james conrad x you smut

[callsign-songbird]

OK, needed a fluffy drabble to follow up that sin. More below the cut!

Biblically accurate König headcannons

Tw: Social anxiety (I tried)

OK, ok, hear me out.

Konig is a big, scary colonel, right? With social anxiety? Omg this man.

This lumbering behemoth wall of muscle and intimidation is the type to reherse and plan what he's going to say for at least a minute or two straight before addressing his squad.

He thinks about the tone he should use, his volume, where to put inflections, how his face should move even beneath his mask, what he'll do with his hands when. And when it comes time to finally speak, he delivers his words with his heart nervously pounding in his chest, which causes his words to come out sharper and more agressive than he intends.

Everyone thinks that he's super intimidating, cold, and angry, but he's really just nervous around crowds and speaking in front of them.

Don't get me wrong, he would be more comfortable in front of his squad compared to a group of soldiers he doesn't know. But that's not saying much.

And it doesn't mean that he's "Shy" or fumbles and trips over his words nervously (even if it's a cute thought)

No, he probably actually appears quite calm, confident, and composed. Even when he's panicking internally.

Strategy and combat are easy to Konig, sometimes easier than breathing. But not standing out in a crowd? With his height? Now, that makes his palms sweat just a bit.

It's useful a lot of the time, sure. But it has its disadvantages. König probably prefers to remain in his office, in the gym, or on one of the training courses; where he doesn't have to think about what he's saying and doing, or how he's saying and doing it. He can focus his mind on something else.

OK, I know this is what you suckers want

But if you were König's person? I have a feeling he would cling very subtly to you. A new squad transfers to your base? König hardly ever leaves your side.

A lot of the time, he would make sure to be touching you in some way, too. You're probably shorter than him, so it wouldn't be irregular for him to rest a hand on your shoulder or against your arm. No one would notice if he stood a little too close and your boots were touching or your shoulder brushed against him.

It wouldn't be hard to read his tells once you pick up on them either.

Whenever he's rehersing how he'll say something in his mind, even if he's in the middle of a conversation outwardly, his eyes become focused on one or two spots while having this unfocused look in them, as if he's only half present.

Whenever he's starting to feel overwhelmed or drained in a crowd (whether he will admit to or realize it or not), he'll usually end up with one hand in his pocket, the other reaching for you or drumming on his thigh.

And as soon as it's just the two of you? Well, you best believe all he wants is to recharge. He likes holding you in his arms with your back against his chest. He loves everything about it.

He loves feeling the rise and fall of your chest, hearing your breathing, hearing your voice. He loves looking down at you and watching as you occupy yourself or relax and melt into him. He could hold you forever, you're his personal portable charger. Just the juice he needs after a stressful day. (Or any day, for that matter.)

Or, maybe you aren't the touchy type and don't really like being held? That's ok, he gets it. Really. He's more than content to simply occupy the same room as you. Your voice seems to make all of his worries go away, watching your lips move is utterly entrancing, and he can't help but get lost in your eyes; whether they're looking at him or something doesn't matter.

Long story short, biblically accurate König rules, and we stan the German chaos himbo. Even when he's not a himbo lol

#ramblings #call of duty #cod x reader #cod #cod men #konig cod #konig x reader #konig call of duty #könig x reader #könig cod #könig #könig call of duty #headcanon #social anxiety #i have anxiety #but I dont really know how different it is from social anxiety #just did my best #anxiety effects everyone differently after all #he just deserves a hug #he won't hug you in public #of course #but in private he really needs snuggles #alright #im heading to bed now #hopefully #have a nice life

[cringe-but-proud]

"Shitty Free Pizza"

Hobie Brown x reader

Warnings: Reader gets broken up with, swearing, crying

A/n: ALRIGHT, FREAKS. I WROTE THE PART 2. Requests are open 😗✌️

"I'm going on break."

That was all you said to your four coworkers before grabbing your jacket and walking outside. You walked to the side of the building and sat on the curb.

Your boyfriend had just broken up with you. Over text. While you were at work. You didn't know what to do, how to react.

You pulled out your phone and read over the message he'd sent you. And then you read it again, and again, and again.

He'd made two typos. The asshole breaks up with you over text and he can't even be bothered to read over the message before sending it.

You didn't know what to do. You didn't want to cry over this asshole, you really didn't want to. But, despite what you wanted, tears began to roll down your cheeks; and once you started, you couldn't stop.

You put your head in your hands and sobbed. You probably looked pathetic. A Domino's employee, still in uniform, sitting in the parking lot and crying. How embarrassing.

"Oi!" You lifted and turned your head. A tall man dressed in clothes that were way cooler than yours was looking at you. "You alright?" He asked.

"Obviously not." The reply came out sounding a bit more condescending than you'd intended.

The man didn't seem to mind. He chuckled. "Guess I probably could've figured that one out on my own, huh?" The man stepped closer. "What's bothering you?"

You briefly considered calling the dude nosy and telling him to fuck off, but something made you stop.

He didn't seem ill intentioned...

You looked down at the concrete. "My boyfriend just broke up with me over text."

"Really?"

You nodded.

"What a prick. Y'mind if I sit down?" He gestured to the slab of concrete next to where you were sitting. You shrugged and he took that as a yes.

He sat with his elbows resting on his knees. "And he did this while you were at work too?" He asked.

You nodded again.

"That's fucked."

"I just..." You didn't know why you were talking to this guy you didn't even know. But, then again, you didn't really care at this point. "I feel stupid for crying over it."

"Why?"

"Because you're right!" You said exasperatedly. "He's a prick and what he did was fucked. And here I am, crying over this asshole. It's pathetic."

He hummed. "I get that." He tilted his head toward you. "But, once you're done crying, are you gonna try to get him back?"

You furrowed your brows in confusion. You weren't even gonna consider that. "No."

Are you gonna be sad about this for years to come?"

"No."

"Y'gonna give up dating altogether and insist that he left an unfillable hole in your heart?"

"Why are you asking me this shit?"

"Because if you were really pathetic, you probably would've said something other than no to those questions."

You paused, letting his words marinate. And then you chuckled. "Yeah. Sure."

"I'm serious!" He laughed. "There's a lot worse things to do in this situation than just crying."

"I guess you're right." You sighed. "But, still. I don't think venting to a stranger is one of the better things to do."

He chuckled. "I'm Hobie."

"I'm Y/n." You were surprised that this random guy was actually making you feel better. But, you weren't gonna complain.

"Now we're not strangers. Which hopefully means you'll tell me a little more about yourself and about this whole breakup."

You, once again, considered calling him nosey. But, for some reason, you weren't opposed to the idea of telling him more.

"Well," You began. "He and I had been dating for 5 months, for the first three or four months, he was really sweet. But... I don't know. This last month he was being really distant and he was always seeming kind of disinterested in me."

"So, was there any real reason for the breakup?" He asked.

"It was sort of out of nowhere. We didn't have a big argument or anything."

"This guy really does sound like a prick." Hobie scoffed. "I've only just met you, but you seem pretty cool."

"Thanks."

"Yeah. Besides who'd ever wanna break up with someone who could get them free pizza?" He smirked playfully.

You couldn't help but laugh. "Shitty free pizza." You corrected him.

He shrugged. "Doesn't matter if the food's shitty, long as it's free."

You opened your mouth to reply to him when someone called your name, one of your coworkers.

"It's been 20 minutes." Your coworker said, peeking their head around the corner of the building.

You sighed and got up. "I've gotta go." You told Hobie as you stuffed your hands into the pockets of your jacket. "Thanks for keeping me company."

"It's no problem. I enjoyed it." He said, smiling up at you.

You wanted to ask for his number, or his socials, whatever. But, you'd just gotten out of a breakup. It felt wrong asking for someone's number so soon, even if it wasn't really with romantic intentions. So instead, you just said goodbye and went back to work.

You got inside and were taking your jacket off.

"Who was that guy you were talking to?" Your coworker asked.

You glanced over at them and shrugged. "A stranger."

"He was really hot."

You paused before signing. "Yeah, he was."

#x reader #fanfiction #hobie brown x reader #hobie brown fanfiction #spiderman across the spiderverse x reader #spiderman into the spiderverse x reader #spiderman x reader

[faintedlcve]

hey babe ! i saw that you take mattheo riddle requests xx i was wondering if you could write a mattheo riddle x reader where reader gets dumped (by whoever you want) and mattheo riddle comforts them? Thanks x

Pretty Crier

Pairing: mattheo riddle x fem!reader

Warnings: swearing, not proof read, fluff (not a warning but wtv)

Best friends to lovers.

The reader is Slytherin. Mattheo calls reader princess (just more natural for him to).

English isn't my first language so there might be mistakes xx

Summary: your boyfriend breaks up with you and mattheo riddle comforts you.

Oh and mattheo and reader have been friends since year 1 so they're like really close.

A/n: thanks for the request xx kinda lost inspo at the end lmao

If you want to request I recommend reading this xx

reblogs are appreciated xx

You knew it would happen. You knew he was going to dump you. You just didn't think it would be so fast. So, of course your shock was justified when your boyfriend broke up with you this morning for no apparent reason. He claimed "he was bored of you" and "found someone more exciting". I mean, if he was going to break up with you, he could atleast give a valid reason.

Tears flooded your eyes as the words hit you like a face slap. You ran down the hallway to the astronomy tower where you knew you'd be alone and bawled your eyes out. Alone. Or atleast you thought you were.

You heard the shuffle of footsteps behind you, wiped your eyes and turned around. And there he was towering you. Mattheo Riddle.

You looked at him with teary eyes.

"What do you want?" I say though my voice doesn't sound the least bit intimidating. Infact it quavered.

"I just want to help you. You could atleast be nice about it." He states, rolling his eyes.

You glare at him.

"I don't want your help." You say obviously lying.

He raises his eyebrow, unamused.

You roll your eyes and acquiesce in his decision. You pat next to yourself gesturing him to sit next to you.

He sits next to you, his back against the pillar like yours. He takes out a cigarette and lights it.

"and here I thought I was the depressed one." You say sarcastically.

"what, you want one princess?" He asks.

You didn't initially intend on saying yes but you do.

He opens his box.

"Shit I'm out." He says. "Here take this one." He hands you his.

"no it's fine." You reply.

"you're right, you're the one that's depressed. Take it. I don't mind. Unless you don't want to for some other reason." Mattheo states.

"i- erm fine. We could share it?" You suggest.

"yeah yeah that's fine!" Mattheo says nervously.

"sorry i didn't mean to make you uncomfortable. You can have that one." you blurt out.

"no it's fine don't worry just making sure you aren't uncomfortable." he smiles at you genuinely.

"he actually smiles! Like a genuine one!" You joke trying to liven up the atmosphere.

Mattheo chuckles at that.

"Only for you princess" He replies.

"So erm who made you cry?" Mattheo asks.

"Just some asshole ravenclaw."

"He sounds like a jerk."

"he is."

"What'd he do?"

"he broke up with me. Said I was boring."

Mattheo wears a shocked expression.

"first of all that bitch ravenclaw is probably more boring than any slytherin that ever existed. Second of all, you are not boring. I've known you since year 1 and somehow I am not bored of you. That bitch knew you for two seconds and was already bored. Third of all, red flag red flag red flag." Mattheo exclaimed.

I chuckle.

"oh and did I mention you are beautiful and amazing and that annoying fuck does not deserve you." Mattheo adds.

"thanks." I smile at him trying to hide the tears clouding my sight. A tear rolls down my eyes.

Mattheo reaches out to wipe it away, shortly stopping to make sure he has your consent. When he receives a nod from you in reply, he gently wipes his thumb against your cheek to remove the tear. It shouldn't give you butterflies but it did.

"don't cry princess." Mattheo hugs you and rubs circles in your waist to comfort you.

You breathe in his cologne mixed with the scent of the cigarette you two shared. You relaxed in his hold.

"how long have you been crying?" Mattheo asks like it's a normal question to ask.

"sorry?" You respond.

"you're a pretty crier." He winks at you.

"You haven't been with me one minute and you're already flirting." I tut at him jokingly.

"you don't mind it do you princess?" He asks.

You shake your head.

No you didn't mind it. Of course you didn't.

"you look better when smiling though." He says.

You smile at him.

"trying to impress me huh?" He winks at you.

"what can I say, I guess even I can't resist your charm." You play along.

"don't worry darling, nothing to be ashamed of." He smirks at you.

"don't pride yourself Riddle." You try to humble him.

"hard not to when one of the prettiest girls I know admits to not being able to resist my charm."

"you don't mean that."

"yeah I do."

"prove it."

And he does. His lips crash against yours. His lips are soft. As he pulls away, you smirk at him.

"looks like you can't resist my charm." You say pointedly.

"yeah I guess not. But is that so bad?" He asks.

No. No it wasn't. Infact it was much better than he would've known.

#harry potter imagine #harry potter #mattheo riddle fluff #mattheo riddle x you #mattheo riddle x y/n #mattheo riddle x reader #mattheo riddle #mattheoxreader #mattheo x y/n #mattheo x you #marcus lopez imagine #deadly class imagine #deadly class #marcus lopez x reader #marcus lopez arguello

[sanemisstalker]

NSFW // KNY characters that are serial humpers. There's nothing they won't rub themselves on for just a small chance to get off.

CW: GN Reader/ Both Genitals reffered to/ specific CW will be before each character so you can peruse as you see fit.

Karaku

Object Of choice : Anything and Everything.

CW: Genital Mutilation (he gets curious, no scene), Dub-con/Non-con, Somnophilia.

-While I think all of the Clones have a bit of a problem keeping it to themselves, I think Karaku, being, you know, the pleasure clone, is most certainly a cum chaser.

-He can barely keep his hand out of his pants in public, all but physically refuses to hide his boners, and, worst of all, you can't keep underwear in one piece, on, or even around.

-This man is disgusting. The only difference between him and the others is that he's unabashed about it. You'd think the honesty would help, but it just doesn't. Not after he's torn through your last set of undergarments and now what?

-'So what? I don't wear anything- eh? What do you mean it's digusting?!'

-He's so proud about it too, it's almost disheartening.

-Is not gentle with his dick. It can just regrow, I'm sure he's done- awful things to it.

-I think that pleasure thing comes at a cost. It's a signifier of Hantengu's lack of impulse control. Karaku probably can't stop himself, even if he wants to, which he never would because lusting is his only purpose.

-Everything is made to read as innately sexual to him- doesn't matter if it's your fist or a cheese grater- He's experimental with his nerves to a self destructive degree.

-'I didn't intend to cut it off- no! I saw a photo of a man that flayed it o- Hey! It's not that bad! Just liste- It'll fix itself soon!'

-I don't know what else He'd do other than jack off, or try and convince the other clones to jack off. I don't think he has- hobbies?

-Definitely tries to hump you in your sleep. If you don't wake up to him jerking off, you're waking up to him trying to slip between your thighs.

-'I just got horny- no no- just go back t- hey, no, you're not allowed to leave? Come back! Y/N!'

Aizetsu

Object of Choice : Your thigh

CW: Severe Depression / BDSM Dynamics (Severe degradation, both self and inflicted) (Aizetsu receiving)

-What a miserable fuck, he doesn't know what to do with himself half the time, so when he gets horny he just cries and begs.

-He's a manifestation of every awful thought Hantengu ever had in that big ol' head of his. Aizetsu just drips with the most gut wrenching, vomit inducing level of self-hatred you've ever seen anytime you're intimate.

-you begin to wonder if being talked down to appeals to him more than he'd like to admit.

-He's like a dog when he asks, because, at the end of the day, he's still Hantengu, a selfish bastard who self serves. Aizetsu just doesn't have the joy receptors for it- his nerves jump at the bud for any impulse they can fufill.

-When you let him ride your thigh, because he's pathetic, and he looked so... him asking, it became his favourite thing. Ever.

-When you two are alone, he'll just beg for it out loud. He has no self respect. So much shame that he'll never conquer.

-'Please, please- Y/N- I- I'll do whatever you want me to. You're the only person I can do this with, they'll all- laugh at me- please please- I'm sorry, I know, I'm- God I'm worthless- I can't do anything in return, nothing will be good enough-'

-he's practically jerking himself off on your calve as he spews his self hate. You might as well give in.

-When you're infront of the other clones, he'll tug at the edge of whatever you're wearing. They all toss him hauty looks. They're disgusted by him, too. He likes humping your thigh more than his dignity infront of his fellow cluster, I guess.

-Maybe he's... a bit of a.... a lot of a masochist. You stare at him like he's dirt, there. He's a grown man humping your thigh- drool spilling out of his mouth.

-'I'm- I'm sorry I- oh god- please don't hate me- please don't hate me- please please-'

-'You're pathetic. You can't make me cum, but you have no problem mak- did you just cum again? Are you cumming right now? In your pants?... Are you serious?'

-You could easily have him wailing in minutes, maybe even seconds if you hit the right nerve. And the whole time he'll just be thrusting away, chasing his own pleasure against your skin because that's all he knows how to do.

-Push him off right as he's cumming and ruin his orgasm, he doesn't deserve to feel good (The abuse will just make him cum harder)

Kaigaku

Object Of Choice: You.

CW: Mention of Trad Wives

-Listen, I know we have a lot of Kaigaku haters in the crowd. I, however, see a man with a choker, and I see a potential slut. Give him his moment.

-I think Kaigaku would be a very selfish lover, obviously, but I don't think this is in natural capacity for him. I think he's like, brainwashed by societies standards of what attracts him, especially in a relationship.

-You know when you see a 'sigma' guy that's really upset his trad wife who he specifically picked out for being trad won't do anal? That's Kaigaku.

-So he's really, really upset when you won't put out.

-You see a chance, though. A chance for a life lesson.

-Kaigaku is allowed to fuck you... just not really fuck you. He's allowed to use your hand. He's allowed to use your thighs. He can rut in between your pussy lips/ up and down your shaft-

-He is not allowed in you. And it lights him up.

-'Thats a stupid rule! You think I'm not enough? Are you fucking someone else? Are you making fun of me?!' He'd probably try to insight a screaming match for a week, but you just won't give in-

-Fine. Whatever. He just won't touch you, won't talk to you- won't-

-The first time Kaigaku slides in between your thighs, he swears he sees stars. It'd been weeks... probably the longest he's ever held off on an impulse. Hadn't jerked off either, He'd been too pissed.

-Its there, in that little space between your sex and the top of your thighs, that Kaigaku finds God. At least he thinks it's god. It's got to be. He's never cum so hard in his life.

-Kaigaku becomes almost... willingly obedient. He continues to pretend he's so inconvenienced by the whole thing, but then he's sliding into your fist, and the world is just sliding away.

-I have a very specific image of standing infront of him, and him trying to angle his dick to slide in your underwear. He's really awkward, and he's struggling to stay upright because he's got to bend his knees to meet your cunt/cock- and it's just not working, but that's the only way you'd let him get off on you that day-

-It like, kind of gives me the ick thinking about him doing it, but also like- Aw? He'll literally do anything to get off now? You broke him?

-'I can't- it- it's too hard-' He'd mumble, voice sounding particularly defeated. 'I just- I want to cum-'

-'Too bad.' You'd go to walk away, and He'd jerk off on the floor, pissed as hell. He wouldn't be able to cum and that'd just make him angrier, because now he has to go beg his partner, who he's whipped for, to please let him use their pussy/dick again-

-He's like, never been this needy before, though. He's not supposed to want to chase you. He's supposed to have people throwing themselves at him- It's kind of... exciting, to be denied.

-You know, guys that whimper are really cool, but idk, I think Kaigaku's a whiner. I think he whines and groans and it's really unsightly but??? There's something so appealing about it? Like, he's so big and strong and his ego is so inflated, and he's just toppling for you?

Enmu

Object of Choice : Your pillow

CW: Enmu / Crossing of explicit sexual boundaries.

-Listen, he's not right in the head. Enmu never claimed to be right in the head, either, but he's particularly fond of cumming on your pillow. Not just humping it, cumming on it. He doesn't really know why either.

-'It just feels right, I think.' He'd reason.

-'Do you want to- cum in my hair? On my face-'

'No, I want to cum on your pillow. It's where you sleep.' Thats the only explanation you get from him. He cannot articulate anymore.

-He doesn't even think about it when he's doing it. He's just got one leg hiked up on the bed, a thumb pressing the head of his cock into the plush, and he's just thrusting- almost blind.

-He doesn't ever remember the build up to getting there, or what in his brain is satisfied by doing this, but if he doesn't do it, something... off will happen, he's sure.

-You catch him, one day. You thought he was just cumming on it- no, he's got his full weight in his pelvis, pitching his hips forward with all his might. You didn't even know Enmu could physically do such a thing.

-He's not weak, obviously. He's a demon, but you all rarely have sex where he's the one leading, so it's a bit of a shock to watch him be so... rough with the fabric.

-He's almost in a trance, it's kind of scary, until he cums, and he covers his mouth with both hands, and his hole body shakes. The fucker knows he has to keep this silent...

-Maybe you're...Maybe you're not right in the head either, because you really, really want to be that pillow.

This might have a part 2, because i think Mitsuri would be prone to this.

#demon slayer x reader #demon slayer smut #kaigaku x reader #kaigaku x y/n #kaigaku x you #upper moon smut #upper moons x reader #kny smut #aizetsu x reader #aizetsu x you #hantengu clones x reader #karaku x reader #karaku x y/n #karaku x you #enmu smut #enmu x you #enmu x reader #kaigaku smut #karaku smut #aizetsu smut

[comicaurora]

These have been pent up for a while, so there's a whole list lol. Some are Aurora, some are not.

1) Can lacrimas carry out multiple purposes at once? Or will they blend them? I'm assuming that this is possible, considering that the automaton in the ruins was using a lacrima as a brain

2) Has anyone tried to make tools or weapons out of lacrimas? I'm talking like chisel that needs no hammer. Or maybe a Fire lacrima on a bow that sets your arrows on fire

3) Can you engrave runes on lacrimas to make them affect themselves?

4) Where can I read more about the Twins? If I'm not wrong they're the creator gods, aided by the Light dragon and the Void dragon to create life, but I might be getting a wrong read on that

5) Since we see Erin successfully become the first Void mage, does that now mean there's potential for him to make a Void lacrima? The dragon probably won't allow it, but still

6) What exactly does elemental corruption of each element do? Fire literally burns you up, as we saw in Arc 1. I can infer that Life likely makes you a chimera. Void corruption makes you a cave crawler. But what do the other one do? Does Earth make you a statue? Does Wind disintegrate you, Thanos style?

7) Now onto the non-Aurora questions, is your art vector or raster? I believe it's vector, but it's always better to confirm

8) What are your opinions on reading into the environment and the character design to infer things about the character themselves? In any type of media

9) Have you played Baldur's Gate 3?

10) Do you have any music that you'd recommend? I've listened to every song I liked so many times that I hate them now.

11) I'm new to Tumblr, anything that I should know? You don't have to answer this one if you don't wanna. I think I know some of the basics already. Reblog what you like, and avoid the terfs, right?

You might be able to tell that I like the idea of the lacrimas a little bit. Just a teensy bit. The artificer in me definitely isn't obsessed. I appreciate any answers you can give :3

Cheers!

Ooh, lots of stuff!

Yes, it's possible. A lacrima can be engraved with multiple spells, set in a casing engraved with commands, or some combination of the two. Typically, all spells engraved directly on a lacrima will activate at once when the lacrima is "switched on", but a spell can be quite complex, and conditional activations are possible - "if-then-else" statements, basically.

Yes, magic items exist.

Generally no. If the lacrima is disrupted or broken, the spell generally stops functioning, so a self-affecting lacrima will run only as long as it takes for the lacrima to distort or break.

There's an extra lore page about them!

He probably could if he wanted to (and the Dragon allowed it) but Void energy is very dangerous, so he likely doesn't want to.

Each form of elemental corruption agitates the presence of the element in the mage's body. Earth corruption can damage or alter bones, encourage unhealthy petrification of soft tissues, etc. Wind corruption can have physical effects but it often most obviously produces breakdowns in the person's ability to speak or understand language. Lightning damages, numbs or intensifies a person's physical senses.

Raster, I draw with CSP's digital pens. I've only very briefly experimented with vector art - I don't like how it simplifies the lines.

I think it's a fun school of analysis but, like all literary analysis, it runs into trouble if it tries to lock down exactly what the writer was thinking or intending (which is an objective fact that one can be incorrect about) rather than trying to analyze the story on its own and what meaning might, intentionally or unintentionally, be factoring into it.

Nope

don't trust my taste in music it's 90% nu metal and sonic OSTs

Like what you like, reblog what you want, generally it's considered dubious form to add a comment to a reblog unless you have something profound to contribute (commenting in the tags is fine), steer clear of discourse and callout posts and generally the sectors of the site that are constantly on fire, blocking someone for any reason is 100% fine

#asks #aurora #not aurora

[azmaranadir]

I've been searching for windbreaker headcanons/smut and I came across ur blog..I love ur writing sm!!😭. And I've also realized that there aren't that much windbreaker content (or I'm maybe looking in the wrong places). I wanted to request Jay Jo smut (I love him😂) if ur not up to it that's totally fine, thank you!

APOLOGY

NSFW 18+ WIND BREAKER, FEM READER X JAY, AGED UP (Even when I think they are like...19?), PIV, SMUT, UNPROTECTED SEX, A BIT FLUFF, BEING CALLED LOVE, A BIT JEALOUSY, HEAVY SMUT, SEASON FOUR SPOILERS? JUST A BIT, NOT MUCH...DON'T READ IT IF YOU ARE UNDER 18, I'M NOT SPEAKING ENGLISH FLUENTLY

You were not happy, you were angered, maybe a bit jealous, maybe even furious. Your Boyfriend had seen the girl, you very much dislike; naked. Butt naked, He saw her naked body glitter with water, saw more of her than he probably had seen from you. And that was after she was shit-talking you. Calling you a ‘Back seat Princess’ and now she was seen by your boyfriend, Naked, which was enough to make you want to beat the shit out of him and her.

You could be nice, you could sit down for a few seconds and accept the fact that neither of them intended to see the other naked, but you were childish. You want to be childish, you were allowed to be childish.

You deserve it, after all, it was his fault for looking toward Noah during dinner, with blushing cheeks. Which causes Noah to get red too. It was ridiculous, you were close to scoffing like a child, hissing ‘Look a porn if you want to get wet’. But even for that, you were too angered.

“What’s up with you two?” Dom asked, from the opposite side of you two, brow raised confused as he practically saw the tension between you and Jay. Which causes the latter to flinch and you to chew harder on your fish. You could barely contain the sharp, tight smile that you gave him, hissing through your teeth: “Why don’t you ask her.” You forced through your teeth, glaring toward Noah.

“(Y/N),” Jay whispered, probably trying to soothe your anger, however, it did little, on the other hand, it just flued more anger. “Oh, are you on her side now? Huh?” You barked, causing the table to quiet down, Noah turned her head away from you two, hiding her red cheeks with a curtain of her hair. However, it was enough for you to take notes.

“You know what? I am finished.” You cursed, pushing Jays hand away as he tries to stop you, almost running out of the room.

“Did I do something wrong?” Dom asked deadpanned, earning a deadpan expression from Shelly.

------

The door opens behind you with a swift move, causing your shoulders to tensed as you hear the pattern of his feeds against the Tatami mat. “Love?” He called you. Something you were sure he would never say to you or anyone, but you made the impossible possible. Especially when it comes to Jay Jo.

But you were in no mood to be wooed by that pet name, no, you wouldn’t acknowledge the way your shoulders relaxed when he sat down right behind you, how his knee bumped your back and made you arch your back. And especially not when you feel his breath runs down your neck, leaving you trembling.

“No…No! I am angry!” You scold him and yourself, finger pointed at his face as he sighed unsure. “I’m sorry?”

“You have to do much better than this to make me forgive you!” You growl at him, your back turned toward him again, as your fingers went back to fix your bike. It was wrecked a bit during the race against the Kazuma Crew, nothing major to ask Momoko to fix it, but it kept your mind busy, and your fingers from either killing Noah or Jay.

“I didn’t mean to see Noah naked.” Jay apologized, hand moving your hair away, placing his chin on your shoulder. “Who cares! She saw you!”

Jay stopped in his movements, raising a brow.

“Are you jealous that she saw me in only a towel?”

“100 points nerd.” You scoffed, trying to push his face away from your neck, just to be pulled closer to him, and placed on his lap. The only thing that kept you two separate was the thin fabric of those Kimonos. And they did little to stop his dick to pock your back.

“Maybe I know how to apologized probably.”

-------

“Jay—!” you mewled quietly as his hand found his way to your breast, squeezing the flesh, leaving you breathless. You felt his tip bully the your G-spot, leaving you to squeeze around his length, hoping that he could stay like that forever. “D—D—Don’t stop-mngh—!”

“Mhm?” He pressed his chest against your back, his other hand traveling to your pussy, finding the nub of pleasure to rub, leaving you almost sobbing. “Mh? Why should I stop?” He whispered against your ear, lips nibbling on it. He always did it: breast, clit, ear. Breast, clit ear. He was switching between them as if it were buttons to press in a video game. Leaving you quivering and gasping.

You whimpered his name, trying to keep some decent thought, not everyone needs to know what you and he were doing in your room. No one needs to know what kind of Apology he offers you.

The hand that used to fix your bike was now using the bike as the only thing that kept you grounded on earth. Clenching the metal so hard that it could clench. Your pussy trying to adjust to the size of his cock, his length filling you completely. He was so big, so long, he was so much. Your Walls were burning, and it was so fucking hot.

“Will you forgive me, love?” He whispers in your ear, licking and nipping on your earlobe. “Yes! Yes! I—I forgive you—! Fuck—! Just don’t stop! Please don’t stop Jay!” You begged him, as if you were the one needing to apologize, begging him to make you cum.

He pressed his lips against your wet cheek, using his fingers to roll your nipple between them. Your eyes rolled to the back of your head, pressing your face in the crook of his neck, trying to escape those kisses. “Don’t run away.” He huffed, his hand leaving your clit, to hold your jaw at the right angle, everything to kiss you properly. His fingers were coaxed with your juice, leaving an itchy feeling on your skin.

Your cunt was a mess, your thighs were sticky from the amount of times he had made you cum. Your lips were jutting to follow his messy kisses. He was amused, something you would have noticed if your mind wasn’t so full of him. But how couldn’t you? How could you not let your mind get filled by him? When he so genuinely apologizes to you.

“I’m yours…” He whispered.

You took your lower lip between your teeth, nodding your head with your eyes wide open. Loving the way his hair stuck to his forehead, how his cheeks were so sweet pink, and his lips swollen just like yours, from all the kisses. God you love him so much.

“Mine,” you breathed out, trying to meet his thrusts, “Y—Your mine, n—not Noah! Your mine, J— Just mine,”

Jay gave a stoic hum, letting you press your ass on him and swallow his dick whole, his tip pressing against the deepest part of your body. He didn’t even need to hold your waist, he was so good at fucking you with no hands, allowing him to use his hands to pleasure you in other places that would make you lose your mind. “Yours,” slap, “Yours,” slap, “Yours—” slap, “Alone.” He grunts out.

His hand on your breast went back to your mind, as he pulled on your nipples, watching how your lips open to let a loud moan out. You fit in so perfectly in his hands, with your body arching, to search after his hands, then he felt you clenching around him even more, encouraging him to continue his abuse of your nipples.

“Come on love, you will cum for me, right?” He grunts, kissing your lips again, leaving enough spit on them to watch it roll down your jaw to your collarbone, drenching the collar of the kimono. In the heat of the moment, neither of you thought to take it off, only to push it aside. But he likes it: how the kimono barely hides something, and the only thing that kept it together was the small cloth belt that kept it bound around your waist.

Your cunt clenched, chest heaving at the greed in his gaze, his question so hard to understand with the way he filled you to the brink. You only could let out moans and whimpers.

“Right?”

Jay pulled himself away, punished you for not answering him immediately. Your pussy already clenching around nothing, trying to get him back in. Even when his size was stretching you so hard that it could break. You love this burning sensation.

You could feel your back arching, Eyes wide with tears. “Yes! Yes! So close Jay! Ju—Just don’t stop! Please you said you want to apologize! Your mine! Please make me yours too!” You whimper, ass rubbing against him, seducing him to get back in to make you cum.

“You are already mine, love,” he snickered, mouth pressed against your lips again, and swallowed your cries greedily. And with a strong thrust, he pushed back in your pussy, leaving a loud slap echo in the room.

And with this one thrust you were already gushing over him, pushed you over the edge so easily, and already forgetting why you were even angry in the first place.

you only knew that you love the way he apologized.

Jay is also my fav Character.

#windbreaker #jay jo #jay jo x reader #windbreaker smut #jayjosmut #jay x reader smut