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#and then i was like what if...... i just do a bunch of huge gifs that IS my brand after all
risestarkiss · 2 months
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Orange, Baby!
Rise Ramblings #316
When I think about Mikey, this scene always comes to mind.
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As soon as they step foot in the library to save Mayhem, Angelo instantly disqualifies himself…hilariously.
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On first watch, I found it interesting that he made this decision with no hesitation, especially given the stakes.
At the time I just resigned to him being a silly silly boy, but now I know better.
Yet, before we get ahead of ourselves, let’s explore who Mikey is.
Michelangelo Hamato is the youngest turtle in the family, and it shows.
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Consequently, he seems to possess a certain “youngest brother privilege" that his other brothers just can’t help but reinforce. This is the role that Mikey was born into. Therefore, he doesn’t have to push himself to be the smartest, or cleverest, or strongest turtle.
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Instead, he decides to be the artist of the family. He’s a creative! He expresses himself everywhere, from stickers on his own shell, to tagging the lair, as well as on paper. The world is his canvas!
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Michelangelo also expresses himself in virtually everything he does, so it’s easy to understand why he’s the most open, honest, caring, and emotionally expressive turtle of the bunch. To some it could be seen as a weakness, yet Mikey uses his emotional intelligence as a pillar of strength, of which he utilizes to uphold his brothers when they need support the most.
In the show, Michelangelo often takes on certain personas; Doctor Feelings and Doctor Delicate Touch. (For some reason, they are all doctors, but that’s beside the point.)
At first glance, the personas could be seen as silly bouts of make-believe. But I think that placing these roles upon himself for his brothers' sake is Michelangelo’s way of helping them cope with the world by offering them what they each individually lack.
For instance, Raph, Leo, and Donnie have trouble voicing their discomforts when someone does something they don’t like.
In other words, they have trouble putting their foot down.
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But here is Mikey to the rescue!
Dr. Delicate Touch has no such hang-ups.
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Similarly, when Donatello runs into trouble, as he is unable to recognize his own emotions, it’s up to Doctor Feelings to help his desperate client in need.
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Through taking on these roles, Mikey is able to support his brothers and fill the emotional gaps in his teammates, which, inevitably makes them all stronger.
How is Mikey able to do this and how does he have the strength to take on these roles?
You could think that it’s just in his character, meaning, it’s just how he is. I don’t think so, though. He’s a free thinker, and a creative, but there’s something about these roles that is specifically catered to the needs of his family.
Then I realized, the only reason that Mikey is able to help his brothers in this way is because they first helped him.
Let me explain.
All four of the boys grew up in the same household. Although Splinter tried his very best (there is no Splinter hate here), a single depressed parent doth not a stable child make. Raphael struggled with the burden of his responsibilities as an ad hoc leader (see Being Big Red), Leo struggled with expressing his natural talents as a middle child (see Being Baby Blue), all while Donnie struggled with carving out his place on the team and his feelings of uselessness (see Being Purple Part One and Part Two).
Well, what does Mikey struggle with?
In my humble opinion, nothing.
The struggles of his brothers all related to each turtle coming to terms with themselves and coming to terms with their place on the team.
Yet, due to the love and support of his brothers and father, Michelangelo never had to ask himself if he belonged, struggle with his role on the team, or make huge life-changing decisions that could affect everyone.
Michelangelo is free to just be Michelangelo.
And as a free spirit who is completely in tune with his own emotions, he is able to do things like this:
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and this,
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and this.
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Let’s get back to the scene in the library.
Angelo sees the high stakes of his friend’s pet disappearing forever if they fail but makes the decision to disqualify himself anyway. Why? Because he knows that no matter what he does, it will all be ok.
He has complete faith in his brothers and their ability to solve the problem at hand, so he might as well have some fun.
This not the first time he’s come to this conclusion.
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Through out this entire scene, Michelangelo plays in the background.
It’s scenes like this that makes me believe that Mikey’s faith in his family knows no bounds.
Altogether, his brothers and his father were everything he needed to become who he is. Reciprocally, he is free to be everything that they need him to be and more. Over…
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and over,
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and over again
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he trusts them completely.
And through this unwavering trust in his family, he is able to trust himself and his instincts. He knows that with everything they’ve poured into him, he can save them from, well, everything. Over…
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and over…
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and over again.
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Hence, due to all of this evidence, I believe that through the collective love of his family, Michelangelo became the best version of the Hamato spirit, and thus, the best Mystic Warrior of all time.
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All because, he’s Orange, baby!
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Previous | Being Big Red • Being Baby Blue • Being Purple ○ Part One • Being Purple ○ Part Two
Finale | Being Hamato Yoshi
2K notes · View notes
calumfmu · 18 days
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The King's Reign
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King Steve, the stupid nickname you had heard your entire life. The rumors, the huge ego to match. It was everything that made you hate him, especially when your best friend wouldn't shut up about him. Robin was forcing you to be friends with him, but it wouldn't stop the passion you had dedicated to wanting nothing to do with him.
Steve Harrington x reader, enemies to lovers edition, 7.7k+ words
cw: smut, unprotected sex, oral, Steve talking you through it (!!), fingering, angst, tension, 18+, mdni
You had heard rumors of ‘King Steve’ your entire life. Being in a small town like Hawkins allowed every rumor—big or small, to be spread like wild fire. Even when it came to talking about Steve Harrington’s dick. No matter what you did, nothing could allow you to escape the whispers throughout the town.
When Robin had befriended the man of conversation, you were annoyed, to say the least. You could barely escape him when you were trying not to listen to the gossip mill, but it was even harder when your best friend wouldn’t shut up about the guy.
You chewed on a fry, eyes focused behind your friend as you gazed at a group of girls from your school across the way. They were walking into a Tammy’s, hair higher than ever and short shorts hiked up on their long legs. You stared at them, wondering if they had a run around with the guy.
Robin was droning on about something Steve had done today at work, involving a bunch of kids who seemed too young for him.
A fry hit the side of your head, knocking your focus into her instead of the girls across the mall.
“Yn!” Robin sighed, rolling her eyes at you. “You’re not even listening to me.”
“And you would be incorrect,” you responded, smoothing the grease off of your face from where it hit. You grimaced, annoyed at her antics. “You said something about Steve, some kid named Justin, and a stupid handshake or something.”
Robin pressed her lips in a straight line, rolling her eyes once more. They might roll out of her head at this point, you thought.
“His name is Dustin, and the handshake wasn’t stupid, it was cute,” she huffed, throwing her hands in the air. She pushed her food tray away from her, burger half eaten and fries lay abandon across the plastic.
You gasped, leaning across the table and you crossed your arms over your chest. “Woah, Rob.”
She furrowed her brow, wondering what you were getting at.
“I had no idea you swung that way, new development I see.” You wiggled your eyebrows at her, wanting to see how far her patience went. “I just have to know—is it as big as everyone says it is?”
You laughed and leaned back in your chair, blocking your face with your arms as Robin threw a handful of fries at you. Her patience ran out, clearly.
“Yn, can you please be serious for once?” The brunette whined, pouting out her bottom lip as she looked at you. Her infamous begging face. “I’m just telling you because I want you to be friends with him. I can’t be a child of divorce between you. It’s so emotionally draining.”
You giggled, eyeing the way her uniform made her look ridiculous as she begged you. It was rumpled in all the wrong places, red tie hanging loosely at her neck. It made her look like she was perpetually going to a Halloween party.
“How do you think I feel being an actual child of divorce?”
She gaped at you, mouth hanging open as she was at a loss of words. Sputtering, she found the words to say, “Fuck, okay my bad. You know what I meant!”
“I know, Rob, Im just fucking with you,” you laughed, shaking your head as she flushed in the face. She genuinely felt bad, you could tell.
Your parents had recently divorced, next month marking the full year since their split. Tommy and his stupid friends had made it their entire personality and asked you about it ever since the news hit the town. What’s wrong with Mommy and Daddy, they would ask. Daddy found out Mommy slept with the entire town?
You grimaced, thinking about the memories. None of the rumors were true, but that didn’t falter the town people into thinking that you all should be walking around with a Scarlet Letter on your chest.
Shaking your head, you diverted the subject as you hand came to rest of the table. “Me and Steve have never been friends, so you can’t be a child of divorce, Rob. And also, I don’t want to be friends with him.”
Robin stretched her arms across the table, grasping your hand in the two of hers. “Yn, please. I know we both used to hate him-”
“Still do.”
“-but I really think you’ll like him,” she continued, not batting an eyelash at your interruption. “He’s not that same Steve-”
“King Steve.”
“-that everyone talks about. Those rumors are just rumors, I mean, you know how it goes.” She paused when you looked away from her, squinting as you stared unfocused in the distance. You took a deep breath, clearing your throat in discomfort as you turned to look back at her. “Please, Yn?”
You chose silence in this moment, blinking at her with a serious expression on your face as she pouted at you. Her blue eyes were practically watering at this point, long lashes batting rapidly at you.
“Please, Yn.”
Her pleads continued, grip squeezing into your hand as a deadpan expression was being held on your face. This went on for another two minutes (you counted) as she begged you, leaning down every 15 seconds or so to kiss at your hand.
“Okay! Okay, fine, Rob!” You gave in, laughing as she decided to place kisses all over every inch of your hand. She cheered, throwing her hands in celebration before shaking them clasped at the sides of her head, as if thanking an audience for winning an award.
“I literally love you so much, Yn,” she beamed at you, lips stretched thin as she exposed all of her teeth to you. You don’t think she’s smiled this big, ever. “So, tonight, I was thinkin-”
“Tonight?!” Your eyes opened wide, heart beating in your chest as you realized how soon this interaction was going to be. You thought you at least had more than a few hours.
“Oh,” she smirked at you, tilting her head to the side. “Did I not mention that it was tonight?”
Sighing, you trailed a hand down your face, pulling down your features as she shared the details to come. You loved your friend, you really did. She was your best friend, but Christ was she a lot sometimes.
Awkward wasn’t the word to describe the tension in the room. The only sound you could hear was Robin’s nails clacking against the sound of her glass, and Steve’s occasional cough.
You were curled into the side of the couch, Steve on the other, Robin in between the two of you. Steve was looking every which way except the two of you, hand running through his hair as he chewed on his bottom lip. Robin glanced between the two of you, taking sips of her watered down sloppy cocktail in her hand. She kept moving to say something, mouth opening and closing around empty words.
You with your back against the arm of the couch, feet tucked into you as you stared down Steve. You were curious, if they were to ask you. You took in his features, his long hair, giant brown eyes, and navy—is that fucking cashmere?—sweater across his shoulders.
You were observing why him and Robin were friends, why this man had such a hold on your friend. He was attractive, you could admit, boyish features drawing you in, in a way you would never admit in a thousand years. He seemed nervous in this moment, something you hadn’t expected him to be. Cocky, arrogant, rude, brash, anything but this.
But he was still King Steve. The man you had heard about since you went to elementary school together. You were forced to listen to stories of Steve kissing girls underneath the jungle gym evolved to him fucking them in the back of his BMW at the drive-in. It was repulsive.
Robin cleared her throat, drawing your attention away from Steve as his into her. She offered a small smile, awkwardly tugging at the corners of her mouth.
“So… guys,” she phrased it like a question, voice dragging up on the end of the word. “How about actual conversation?”
“Sure.”
“No.”
The two of you having contradictory answers caused your eyes to be pulled into each other. Your face was unmoving as Steve raised his eyebrows at you, confused.
“I’d rather sit in silence,” you muttered, breaking eye contact with him as you leaned your head into your hand. Staring at him while he was focused on something else was one thing, but holding eye contact made you crumble, a slight blush crossing your features. You focused on Robin, shaking your head as she gave you a pleading look.
The blush on your face didn’t go unnoticed by Steve, a suggestive quirk of his eyebrow coming up to cross his face. It was like a switch flipped, the cockiness that surrounded the King Steve rumors coming into play.
“I think that’s a great idea, Rob,” he muttered, voice low as he stared into you. You turned your face towards the coffee table, examining the items abandon on the glass. Your eye twitched at the nickname of your best friend you so often used. You studied the nearly full bottle of vodka surrounded by shot glasses, a deck of cards, and a joint tucked into a clear baggie.
Robin had been optimistic at the night having a positive turn of events.
“I’ll start,” Steve said, turning his entire body so he was facing you. Your bodies mirrored each other, Robin sitting awkwardly in the middle as her eyes flitted between the two of you. “So, Yn… How come I’ve been friends with Robin this long, and have never had the honor of meeting you?”
“Wish I could say the same,” you rolled your eyes, leaning your head on your hand. Your heart was beating heavy behind your chest as you watched this man practically morph into a completely different person.
“Yn…” Robin’s hand came to rest on your knee, squeezing as her voice was a warning to you. Be on your best behavior, you could hear her thoughts.
“Hmm,” he answered, you felt his eyes brushing over your figure. You felt insecure in that moment, focusing on the bottle of vodka as you debated the quickest way to black out in that moment. “I’m just saying, Yn. I’ve heard about you for so long, yet I think this is the first time I’ve even seen you.”
You cut your eyes suddenly to him, your own gaze darkening as his words echoed through the room. You weren’t going to crumble (this time), your mind intent on showing him you weren’t intimidated by him.
At the eye contact, his smirk widened even further. There was a glint of something in his eye, similar to the stories you had heard of the Harrington Charm, or so it was called.
“Funny enough, I’ve heard a lot about you too, Steve,” you replied, huffing as his name left your mouth. “This town can’t stop talking about you. King Steve and how you’re so irresistible.”
The last word in your mouth dripped with venom, squinting your eyes at the suggestive look on his face.
Silence held the next few moments, Robin looking at the ceiling as she muttered words under her breath. It sounded something like a prayer.
“Would you like to find out, Yn?” His voice was low as his eyes bored into you, teeth dragging across his bottom lip as your name escaped his lips. Hair hung into his eyes, head tilted down slightly as he leaned forward an inch. Your breath hitched at the small movement, words at a loss.
Robin shot up from the couch suddenly, arms thrown into the air as she turned around to face the two of you. She shook her shoulders, grimacing at the interaction. “Okay!”
Steve slowly dragged his eyes away from you, smirk disappearing as he glanced up at the brunette. Just like that, King Steve was gone. He settled back into the arm of the couch as his eyebrows were raised to his hairline, lips parted as he stared at your best friend.
“Enough of whatever that was,” Robin tried to blink away the memory, hands resting at her hips. She turned to look at the coffee table behind her, leaning over to grab the abandoned bottle of vodka and the deck of cards. Grimace still present amongst her features, she held them up. “Drinking game, anyone?”
The night continued among the three of you, shots being poured as matching face cards were being thrown onto the table. You were pretty drunk at this point, vision blurring as you leaned into your friend. She was resting her head on top of yours, laughing at something Steve was doing.
He had stuck a card to his forehead, trying to guess which one it was. His eyes were glazed over, slightly hooded with intoxication as him and Robin bickered back and forth about the number of cards there was in deck.
He was losing the debate, set on why Robin was wrong. You had a dopey smile on your face, enjoying the interaction between the two of them. You could see why they got along, energies so different, yet so similar.
“Harrington, you’re so wrong,” Robin laughed, shaking her head as she ripped the card off of his face. A small red mark was left behind, Steve groaning as he rubbed it.
She stood up from the floor, stretching her arms out as she walked away from where you all were surrounding the coffee table.
“I’m starving, Steve, come with me,” she demanded, holding a hand out to help the man up as he complained.
“What about me?” You asked, frowning as you watched him begin to trail her into the kitchen. Your question went unanswered, the two disappearing around the corner.
You sighed to yourself, laying out your body on the floor as the room began to spin in circles. Eyes closing, you held your breath, praying you sober up a little before the end of the night comes upon you.
The look on Steve’s face flashed behind the darkness of your eyes, the sound of your name in his voice echoed in your ears. You felt a small smile creeping on you, only for you to open your eyes suddenly, viscerally shaking the memory out of your mind.
What the fuck, Yn? You questioned yourself, blinking as you looked around the room. Glancing at a clock across the room, you noticed it was half past 1 a.m., way later than you realized. Fuck, my parents are going to kill me.
You glanced towards the direction of the kitchen, head tilting back against the carpet. Robin and Steve’s voices were low, but urgent, causing you to sit up on your elbows.
You strained your ears, trying to focus in on her words.
“-don’t even know what you’re talking about.”
“Steve!”
“Whaaat?”
Their voices were heavy with the liquor, almost sounding drowsy.
“Stop trying to fuck my friends, Steve. I’m serious.”
Your heart dropped to your stomach, breath getting caught in your chest as you heard Steve laugh loudly at her words.
“Shhh!” You heard a thud, presumably the sound of her hand hitting him, based on the “Ow! What the hell!” that followed.
“Steve…”
Silence followed the conversation, your ears straining to see if the conversation continued, only for you to be met with the sound of footsteps coming your way. You panicked, moving to lay back down on the carpet. You crossed your hands over your chest, breathing fast as you tried to pretend like you hadn’t eavesdropped that entire thing.
Glancing up, you saw Steve swaying over you, hand on his hips as he smiled down at you. The overhead light shone over him, creating a halo around his perfectly styled hair.
You allowed yourself to stare for only a second before rolling your eyes.
“You’re blocking my light, Harrington,” you muttered, turning your head in the opposite direction.
He chuckled, moving so he sat next to you. He sat with his legs pulled close to him, being held together with his arms as they were clasped together.
“Sorry, didn’t realize you were getting a tan,” he was sarcastic in his words, light look on his face. He stared down at you, eyes grazing over your stretched out limbs.
“Why don’t you like me, Yn?” He asked, teeth pulling at the skin on his lip.
You closed your eyes, sighing as he started up that shit again. Did you not just have that conversation earlier that night?
“I quite like you,” his voice was a whisper now, hand coming out to dance at the edge of your own sweater. You pulled your arm away from him, tucking your elbow into your side. “You’re good for Robin.”
Questioning where Robin was, you glanced in the direction of the kitchen. Coming out was muffled sounds of her moving around the refrigerator, glasses clinging into one another. She was muttering to herself, something about pickles dipped in Greek yogurt.
“I think you’d be good for me, too.” The low tone of his voice had you squeezing your legs together, watching as his eyes briefly looked down at the movement. He ran a hand through his hair, pulling the strands back into place.
“Leave me alone, Steve.” You tried to even your voice out as much as possible.
“I know you’re curious,” Steve cocked his head to the side, eyes trailing over your face. “About King Steve and his reign.”
You hacked a laugh, surprised at the boldness he had in this moment. The man’s ego was huge, even if he had the looks to back it.
“His reign? Is that what you want to call it?” Before you knew it, a small smirk of your own toyed at your lips.
“Oh, we can call it whatever you want,” the smile dropped from his lips as that darkened look took over his eyes once more. The amber glow of his irises turned nearly black, eyes narrowing as he stared into yours.
“The only thing I’m curious about,” you felt his fingers brush your clothes ribcage, ignoring the sensation, “is how there’s not a single bad thing to be said about this King Steve.”
His eyes slowly dragged over you, starting at your eyes to your lips to your chest and lingering at the spot between your thighs before returning to meet your gaze. He sucked in his bottom lip, gaze glancing towards the kitchen door as Robin began to make her way out, balancing about seven things between her arms.
She giggled, paying attention to the shaking of the items as she tried to not spill anything.
Steve’s voice dropped to a low whisper, barely audible, “Don’t you know that curiosity killed the cat?”
You gulped, eyes on him as he switched it off, getting up to help Robin as she struggled with the items. You are so fucked.
Ever since that night between the three of you, you had been tagging along with Robin and her newfound friend more. The facade had been dropped, Steve no longer being flirtatious with you as you tried your hardest to ignore him.
He began to treat you the same as Robin, making stupid jokes towards you and letting his nerdy side come out during the interactions. Your hard exterior slightly crumbled away, defenses lowering as you realized that Robin may have been right about him. They weren’t completely gone, just lowered just enough to get to know him.
He wasn’t as much as an asshole as you imagined, he spent most of nights with a bunch of kids anyways. It was surprising, you had muttered some joke about the kids being “a little too young for you, Harrington?” only to earn his disapproval back. It was the most serious he had been since you met him, eyes dropping to the floor as he shook his head. You felt bad, seeing how defensive he had been over these kids he had practically adopted.
After that interaction, you dropped the King Steve stuff, seeing that your perception of him had been completely wrong. You would love to say that a beautiful friendship was blossoming between the two of you, but it was the opposite of that. You still hated him.
Every time you looked at him, you were reminded of his past, his stupid friend group that he used to hang with. Tommy had made the past few years of your life a living hell, torments of your parents separation and alleged affairs circling in the depths of your mind.
You watched him as he sat on the back porch of his house, cigarette hanging between his fingers as he reclined in the lawn chair over looking the pool. Robin sat in the chair next to him, turning the dial of the stereo as she tried to find a station with “goddamn decent music.”
The night sky hung heavy over you, your feet dipped into the pool as you watched the two from your perch on the side of the pool.
Smoke circled around him, lacing in and out of his hair as he looked in the night sky. A single light from the sliding glass door illuminated the back yard. His hair was annoying, perfectly framing his features as he blinked into the stars of the night.
As you took in the view of him and the rest of his backyard, rolling your eyes at the wealth that stood around you. Typical Harrington and his perfect home.
“Okay, fuck this,” Robin sighed, huffing as she shut off the stereo. She rose from the lawn chair, slipping on her shoes that lay beside it. “I’m over this, I’m going to bed.”
She began walking towards the sliding door, ruffling Steve’s hair as she past him. You protested, kicking your foot in the water.
“You’re going home?” You asked, watching as she paused to speak to you.
“Gonna sleep in Steve’s parents room, they’re not home,” she shrugged, yawning as she stretched her arms over her head.
“Never home,” Steve muttered with a shake of his head, thinking it was under his breath as he took a drag of his cigarette. You glanced at him, brow crinkling slightly at his comment.
“Just come up whenever you’re tired, Yn.” Robin turned, muttering a “g’night” as she made her way into the house, sliding the door behind her.
You looked down at your feet, watching the way the water circled at your ankles. Sounds of water swirling and crickets chirping in the stickiness of the night were filling your senses. You almost forgot Harrington was there, the sound of his cigarette burning out in the water interrupting your thoughts.
You looked at him from where he flicked it in the water. He stared at the way the burned bud floated in the water, moving in small circles as it soaked up the water around it. He seemed to be in a trance, eyes unfocused as they squinted around his thoughts.
You turned your eyes towards your feet again, ignoring him. You didn’t care. He was still that same Steve you despised so much.
“You want to sit here?” Steve asked, pulling you from thoughts once more. “Waters gotta be cold.”
“Absolutely not.” You were stubborn, squaring in your shoulders as your defenses picked up. You heard him huff, breath long as he exhaled.
“Why the fuck are you so rude?” He snapped, your head quickly swiveling to look at him. He shook his head as his hand rested at his bent knee, he continued to stare into the water. The half empty cigarette box was being turned over and over in his grasp.
“Easy for you to say, Harrington,” you shot back, anger seething through you as you got out of the pool. Water dripped around your feet as you grabbed your shoes next to you. You began to storm past him, muttering curses at him. “Good fucking night, asshole.”
You stopped at his chair, glaring down at him as he looked at you, eyes shifting up in your direction as his head stayed centered. Warmth flashed over you as you imagined he looked just like The Fallen Angel in this moment, eyes rimmed red as his gaze cut into you.
You ignored the thought, leaning over him as you seethed, “I don’t know what you think this is, Harrington, but we are not friends. We'll never be friends. You made my life a living hell, and I will resent you for that for the rest of my life. These rumors painting you in good light makes me loath you even more.”
Steve scoffed at your words, getting up so he stood in front of you. You bit your tongue as he towered over you, breath heavy as he searched your face, your harsh words lingering in the air.
“I didn’t do anything to you,” he whispered, voice low as your heart thundered. You swore he could hear it as he glanced down your body. "I've been nothing but nice to you."
“Liar.” You shook your head, taking a step back as he took one in your direction.
“Okay,” he nodded his head, lips forming a frown. His hand reached up to pull at his hair, rolling his eyes as they closed with a sigh. He opened them, hand moving to rest at his hip. “Tell me then, what did I do that was so bad for you, Yn.”
“You know.”
He shook his head, not taking that answer. He remained silence.
“You know,” your voice cracked, tears prickling at the corners of your eyes.
He shook his head again, tilting his head as he examined you. His own eyes blinked rapidly, jumping back and forth between the two of yours.
You sighed, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. All of the anger dissipated, sorrow filling your chest instead.
“You let Tommy torment me, you let him say what he did about me and all of his stupid friends,” your voice was fragile, volume moving up and down as your words came out. “You might not have said anything, but that’s the worst part, Steve. You were a bystander during the worst times of my life, and you didn’t. Do. Anything.”
Your finger punched at his chest with every word, emphasizing your point. Steve looked down at the assault of the digit, grabbing it between his fingers at the last word.
His touch burned your skin, a feeling that felt so wrong, but so right at the same time.
“You’re absolutely right,” Steve agreed with you, fingers holding your hand tightly. “I was—I was terrible. I was a jerk, a coward, if you will.”
Your eyes looked up into his at his words, hearing him out.
“I’m not friends with him anymore. I met Nancy all that time ago, and things changed for me,” he continued, thumb rubbing circles over the skin. Your heartbeat quickened, glancing down at his movement. “I met Robin, and things only got better. That perception you have of me is so different. So, so different than me now.”
He left go of your hand, watching as it dropped to your side. Steve was only inches away from you, the left over tobacco scent mixing with the detergent of his clothes.
A single tear streamed down your face, your hand shooting up to wipe it away. His gaze softened, shaking his head at you.
“It appears King Steve has dropped his crown,” he muttered, earning a small laugh out of you. You dropped your head, stepping back as a small smile tugged at the corners of your mouth.
Steve’s laugh followed your own, chuckling low as yours picked up. The two of you stood there laughing at each other, an ache in your side forming as you realized the ridiculous situation you were in.
You both quieted down, staring at each other as the moonlight filled the sky above you. The buzzing of the porch light filled the air.
Steve’s eyes were huge in this lighting, his long lashes curled up towards his brows. The small pout of his lips were wet from his tongue darting out, licking at the skin. Moles dotted his skin, cheeks full as joy crossed his features.
You could see him in this light, for who he truly was. That asshole image may have lingered in the back of your mind, but you could see that he was truthful in his speech.
“I may miss him, you know,” you said, looking at your feet as the words came out. “King Steve.”
You glanced up at him, crossing your arms over your chest. His eyes were dark again, mouth pressed into a thin line.
“Oh?” You couldn’t pull the emotion off of his face, a mask placed over it.
You nodded, continuing, “I never got to know him the way most people did.”
Smirking at your words, you turned towards the house and walked up towards the sliding glass door. You didn’t bother looking back at him, opening up the glass as you stepped through muttering a goodnight as you entered the house.
It was dark in there, the only light illuminating was the one hanging over the staircase. The image of the look on Steve’s face burned in your mind, how his dark eyes reflected the moonlight. As you trekked up the stairs on your way to meet Robin, you couldn’t help but think that you took things too far at the end. You’ve hated him all this time, why all of a sudden did you want to mess with his head about the idea of King Steve ?
Reaching the end of the hall, your hand reached for the doorknob, stopping in its place as you heard footsteps running up the stairs, fast in their pace.
Your brow furrowed, turning towards that direction as you watch Steve ascend the stairs, turning the corner to the hall in your direction. He was slightly out of breath, colored in the cheeks.
“You want to?” He blurted out, fast paced with his words. You were confused.
“Huh?”
He was crossing the distance to you, eyes determined on yours. Your hand was still placed on the doorknob, grip loose.
“Harrington, what are you talking ab-”
Your words were cut off as Steve closed the distance, crashing his mouth into yours. His hands came up to rest on the sides of your face as your eyes shot open in surprise at the intrusion. Your hand left the doorknob, resting at his chest to push him away.
“What the hell was that,” you exclaimed, finger digging in his chest. Smiling at you, his hands still present on your cheeks as he tugged at his bottom lip.
He made a shushing motion with his lips, stepping closer to place his mouth on yours again. You didn’t protest, fluttering your eyes shut as his mouth began to move into yours, molding into the perfect shape.
His mouth was soft, tongue darting out to lick between your lips, an urgency as you were pulled into him. One of his hands left your face, finding your waist to press his torso into yours. Huffing, the firmness of his body against yours left you breathless as you leaned up into the kiss.
He pulled away, placing two quick pecks to yours before placing a step back. The absence of his hands on your body left a chill throughout your spine. Eyes glazed over, you blinked at him, tongue running over the feeling of him on your lips.
Steve was smug, hands on his hips as he smiled at you. Your mouth flapped open and close, not finding the words to say to him in that moment. You should be repulsed at him, that was your first thought, but you couldn’t be bothered.
“I-I don’t know what to say.” Your fingers came to brush at your mouth, looking anywhere but him. It was the first time you had been shy around him. You were starting to understand the Harrington Effect.
“You don’t need to,” he rushed, crossing the distance to you one last time to crash his mouth into yours.
He pulled you into him simultaneously pushing you into the wall next to the doors of his parents room. Your body hit it with a full yet loud thud, not caring about waking Robin in the moment.
Your mouth moved in sync with Steve’s, hands coming up to mess up its perfect style and leg curling up to rest at his upper thigh. He moaned into your mouth as his hands gripped your ass, pulling your hips into his.
This is wrong, you found yourself thinking as Steve pulled away to mouth at your neck. He sucked bruises into the delicate skin, fingers digging into your flesh. Your hands roamed free, wildly pulling at his belt his teeth grazed your earlobe.
His bulge ground into the fabric of your jean shorts, leaving you breathless as you fumbled with his buckle.
“S-Steve,” you panted into his hair, arching into his grasp.
You felt the smug fuck smile at your neck, breath sending a chill down your spine. “So needy, baby.”
The nickname had you mewling, panting even further as once of his hands came to help with you the buckle. He freed himself, leather straps hanging at his waist as he unbutton the jeans, pulling the zipper down.
Your hand reached inside, grabbing his heavy cock. You both gasped at the feeling, Steve throwing his head back at the sensation of you tugging at him under his pants. The sounds echoing through the air were filthy—Steve groaning, the wet slickness of your hand on his cock, your dirty words of affirmation flowing out of your mouth.
His hand came to rub at you through your shorts, the thick material making you see stars. Your own head hit the wall, the thud louder than before.
“Shhh baby,” he muttered, pushing them to the side as his fingers brushed over your clothed opening. He smirked at you, low groan escaping his mouth as you were already dripping wet. You huffed, squeezing at the base of his cock in retaliation, feeling the way his hips jutted out.
“C-can’t wake Robin,” he gasped, hips moving rhythmically in sync with your strokes. His head was dripping wet, the inside fabric of his underwear soaking it up.
You felt his fingers prodding at your entrance, the thick jean and thin material of your underwear pushed to the side. They brushed your folds, collecting slick as he applied pressure to the sensitive bud.
“Need you, Steve, fuck,” your face was twisted in pleasure, core throbbing as he continued to tease you. The look on his face let you know he was falling apart at your touch too, brow furrowed as his bottom lip was sucked into his mouth.
He removed himself from you, tucking the exposed part back into his pants. Grabbing your hand, he pulled you down the hall, leading to an open door. He pushed you inside, shutting it behind him as he pushed you down on the bed.
You bounced, half smiling as you rid yourself of your shirt, throwing it across the room. The jeans shorts followed, leaving you exposed in your bra and panties.
Steve stood at the end of the bed, gaze roaming over your figure as that familiar dark look took over his features.
“The things you’re doing to me,” he breathed, crossing his arms at his waist as he pulled his shirt over his head. The sight of his chest, littered with hair at the top, made a rush of heat go straight to your core.
Your eyes followed his hands, watching as they pulled down his jeans, still unbuttoned from the hallway. His boner pushed at the front of his boxers, wet patch present as the material tented.
His eyes followed your eyeline, smirking at you as he saw your legs subconsciously opening wider. Your hand came down to rub between your legs, the panties becoming stickier with each passing moment.
“You want me to show you, baby?” His voice was taunting, leaning over the bed to make his slow crawl over your body. You nodded, eyes big with desire as you felt his heat over you. “Say it.”
“I-I want you t-to show me, Steve,” you moaned, free hand reaching up to grab at his neck. He stopped its movement, hand loose at the wrist as he sucked his teeth.
"Ah ah ah, say it again." His low voice had you falling apart, wetness pooling between your thighs.
"I want you to show me, Steve." Clearer this time, you arched into him spreading your legs so he lay between. He smirked and let go, leaning down to briefly kiss your lips before making his way down your neck.
The urgency you felt in your body contradicted his slow, languid movements. You felt the admiration in his movements, teeth nipping at your skin lightly, his tongue soothing over the marks. He made his way down, kissing over what seemed like every inch of you.
As he spread your legs, he maintained eye contact with you, hair falling into his eyes. His fingers rested at the waistband of your panties, mouth pressing light kisses over your clit. The fabric was thin enough to feel the heat of your breath, and it had you mewling.
"You're so beautiful, Yn," he whispered as he pulled the piece of fabric off of you. Your hand reached up to brush his hair out of his eyes, leaning up on your elbows so you could get sight of him.
His tongue darted out, licking at your clit as you exhaled deeply. Your hips jutted out, trying to feel the full heat of his mouth as his tongue gave you tiny licks, teasing you. Steve's smirk grew, arm resting at your waist to hold you down.
"'M just getting started, my love."
He began to suck at you, tongue dipping in and out of your folds as one of his fingers found your entrance, pushing in. You watched as his eyes fluttered shut, moaning at the taste of you.
It was heaven watching him. Seeing the way his face was pushed into you, fingers moving in and out of you with a fever. They curled inside of you, toying at the bundle of nerves deep in your walls. Clenching around him, your hips began to stutter, the weight of his arm adding a pressure that made your head feel light.
Bliss approached you, slowly then all at once. You swore you blacked out for a moment, vision going white as he licked you through the pleasure. Your breath was fast, chest heaving as that familiar over stimulation worked its way through your thighs.
Steve pulled away, satisfied with your unraveling. He licked the taste of you off of his lips, rising to his knees as he pulled his boxers down. His cock sprung free, dark red at the head as it dripped in desperation.
His hand came to stroke himself, squeezing small drops of precum out of the head.
"Steve," you groaned, hand reaching to grab at him. His hips angled towards your reach, he groaned as you made contact. You gave him short strokes, focusing your attention at the head.
"You wanna give me a little taste, sweetheart?" His sweet words of affirmation had you soaked with anticipation once again, a nod coming in reply. You repositioned yourself, lying on your stomach, propped up on your elbows as you licked at his head.
A low groan escaped him, hand coming to rest at the back of your head. You took him in your mouth, lips stretching over his girth as you opened up for him.
His hand pushed on your head, forcing down some of the length that you felt shy in taking. You sucked at him, looking up at him falling apart with small thrusts of his hips into your mouth. His head was angled to the side, eyes closed as you saw them move behind his lids. His mouth was open, free hand gripping at the roots of his hair.
He looked beautiful in this light, chest glistening as a sheen of sweat covered him. His hand guided your mouth, feeling the suction of your lips over his shaft. The way his hips stuttered into you had you choking, drool pooling at the corners of your mouth.
"M not gonna last, baby," he muttered, removing himself as you looked up at him. Steve glanced down at himself, seeing the way his cock shone with the glistening of your spit.
His eyes rolled, teeth digging into his bottom lip at the sight. You understood the feeling, the both of you being so turned on, it fucking hurt.
"Turn around for me." Rising to your hands and knees, you positioned yourself, arching your back. Blind to his movements, you heard him shuffle behind you, warm hands gripping at your waist that sent a shock to your spine.
His cock nudged at your entrance, a burn coming as he stretched you open. A high moan escaped your lips, hips running from the intrusion. His hands pulled you right back, cock pushing in even further.
"Shh, baby," he whispered, running his hand up your spine to soothe you. "It'll be okay."
You nodded, looking back over your shoulder at him admiring the way you stretched over him. As he pushed in further, the stretch burned even more. The pain was soothed away by the rubbing of his hands and the words of encouragement he gave you.
"'S okay," he muttered, pushing to the hilt. "I'm right here, baby."
Your knuckles were shaking as you gripped the sheets below you. Your eyes fluttered closed, a sigh escaping your lips.
"All right here, baby. I'm not gonna hurt you." His hips reared back before pressing in again, your back arching as pleasure flowed through your body.
"Steve, fuck," you moaned his name, feeling the way he pushed into you over and over, movements slow. He grabbed onto your hips, fucking into you as the sounds of slapping skin echoed through the room.
"You're taking it so good, my love."
His words had you gasping, hips shooting back to meet his movements half way. Seeing the effort you gave him back, his thrusts became faster, fucking into you with a passion.
Steve's words continued praising you, I love to see you falling apart and feels good, baby? and take it, you love my dick so much. You were panting his name, the only word you could focus on.
That pleasure arched up your spine once more, legs shaking with the promise of release. Your orgasm hit you like a truck, falling to the bed as Steve followed you to it. His large stature hung over your body, fucking you through your high.
You couldn't help, but press your face into the mattress, pleasure rippling through you as his movements quickened. You felt him approaching his own high as his words became short, breath raising a pitch.
"F-fuck, Yn," his voice was even an octave higher, face pressing in between your shoulder blades. His thrusts were irregular, slamming into you as the entire bed rocked. "Gon-gonna cum, baby, f-fuck, you did so well."
He released into you, pressing deep as you felt him fill you up. The warmness of his cum made you moan again, the thick liquid threatening to spill out the sides of his cock deep within you.
"Such a good job," he whispered to you before pulling out, collapsing next to you. He lay on his back, hand reaching out to rest at the small of your back.
You turned your head towards him, blinking slow as you took in the mess of the man. His hair was sticking to his face, cheeks red, and wetness around his mouth. He stared back at you, smirk ever present.
"I still hate you, Harrington," you whispered to him, noticing the way your legs felt numb. Sensing the irony in your words, you felt him leak out of you. A grimace crossed your face.
He laughed out loud, winking at you. He leaned to press a kiss to your nose, watching the way it crinkled under his touch.
"I'm sure you do, sweetheart."
You hid your smile in the sheets, rolling your eyes shut. Happiness warmed your body, the lingering effects of your orgasm. A gnawing feeling came to your heart, chest pounding for a different reason. You had fallen for it, the typical Harrington charm. At that moment, you tried not to tell yourself that things may be different, thinking of his words earlier.
He was different than before, however, the thoughts of King Steve still plagued your mind. This couldn't end well, Steve doesn't end well. You opened your eyes, finding him still staring at you.
"You know, I meant what I said, right?" He asked you, seemingly reading your mind. You blinked at him, ready to push that hard exterior forward. "I am different than I was."
Warmth filled your chest, hope bubbling at the surface.
"I don't know if I believe you," you whispered, voice sounding small in the big room. He pressed his lips together, mouth dropping at the corner.
"Let me show you," he replied, hand coming to brush the hair behind your ear. "Let me do that at least."
Hesitation came over you, silence filling the air between you. A few moments passed as he searched your eyes for any sign of emotion. It was like you had an angel and devil on each shoulder, warning you yet jumping for joy at the same time.
You slowly nodded, a sigh escaping your lips. Steve beamed at you, eyes squinting with the smile.
"I swear, Harrington, if you do anything to fuck me over, I will murder you," you shook your head, not believing you'd give him a chance. He leaned over again, pressing another kiss to your lips this time. His smile was contagious, you fought it back.
"Is that a promise?"
masterlist. requests and inbox are open.
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rafecameroninterlude · 2 months
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pairing: rafe cameron x fem!kook!reader
summary: sarah comes home early and finds you in rafe’s shirt
warnings: best friends brother, arguing, cursing, brief mention of addiction, suggestive ending ;)
word count: 1.5k
a/n: this takes place the day after this part, so i recommend reading that before. this is the last part so i just want to give a huge thanks to everyone who has shown so much love to this mini series of mine. i’ll be working on requests for the next couple of days but i already have something new that i’m cooking up for all of you 🎀 mini series masterlist can be found: here <3
lovely taglist: @maybankslover @missy06sworld @thewalkingdeadsmut @urfavnoirette @pradabambie
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“hey, how do you want your eggs-” rafe was looking down at his phone when you walked into the room, his jaw tightening as he scrolled through something. “what’s wrong?” you sat next to him as he put his phone in your hands. “look at that shit. sarah has our summer allowance in the fucking negatives,” he was seething at this point. shaking his head, he yelled, ‘fuck!’, making you jump slightly. “i’m sorry,” rafe was quick to reassure you, “no, no, it’s okay. what should we do now?” you rubbed his arm, smiling at him so he knew you were alright.
“well, i’m gonna have to call my dad and let him know that we don’t have anymore money, and of course he’s gonna think it’s because of me.” rafe laughed bitterly. “why would he assume it’s your fault?” you glanced up at him, handing him back his phone. “because..” rafe spoke low, “i had a history of going to the cut and using his money for something else, and he hasn’t necessarily let that go.” he explained. you sighed, thinking for a moment. “look at the recent charges, what do they say?” rafe clicked on the account, his eyebrows knitting in confusion.
“what the fuck. there’s nothing but a whole bunch of atm withdrawals.” both of you looked at each other, “i don’t know how she’s withdrawing money without a card.” he looked around his room for a second, before jumping up and making his way downstairs. “what is it?” you followed him. rafe stayed quiet while he rummaged through his wallet, throwing it across the living room. “the fucking card is gone! she must’ve got it when we snuck upstairs yesterday.” you sighed, “that’s why she was in a rush to leave.” rafe paced back and forth, his head in his hands as he cursed to himself.
“i swear, when i see her-” as if on cue, the front door opened, the woman of the morning strolling in like nothing. “woah, y’all are up early..” sarah smiled, looking between you two before her eyes fell to your outfit.. or lack thereof. “is that rafe’s shirt?” her face morphed into one of suspicion. before you could answer her, rafe cut in. “yeah, it is. do you want to explain to me why the fuck our account is drained?” sarah kept her eyes on you, not acknowledging rafe in the slightest. “why are you wearing his shirt.. and what is that?” she looked past rafe towards the kitchen where you were making breakfast.
“i don’t believe this shit,” she scoffed, pushing rafe out of the way, “my brother, y/n, really?” she laughed. you felt your heart plummet, rafe stepping in once again. “you don’t have any right to tell her shit, you haven’t been very honest either.” rafe unlocked his phone, showing her the negative amount. “what the fuck are you up to? all these atm withdrawals, what are you even taking money out for?” now it was sarah’s turn for all the blood to drain from her face. “it’s none of your business,” she spat, “and you,” sarah walked around rafe, sizing you up as if she was going to do something.
“so, what, i don’t tell you about every little thing going on in my life, and you fuck my brother to spite me for it? that’s low..” she shook her head. you felt all your anger rising to the surface. “i don’t want to know every little detail of your life, just don’t be a selfish bitch and use me at your expense for your little adventures on the cut. lying to your dad so he won’t find out that you’ve been hanging out with pogues, and using your shared account to drain money from is even lower.” sarah stayed quiet, the expression on her face unreadable. “you’re the fakest friend there is.” she adjusted the backpack on her shoulder.
“if i’m the ‘fakest friend’ then what does that make you? you cancelled plans with me last minute, used me to cover for you multiple times, you even ditched our birthday tradition this year. not to mention the fact that you said i was ‘worse than topper’ because i asked you a valid question. i hadn’t seen you for three weeks before yesterday and you got mad because i asked if you were staying on the cut. you do realize that we haven’t been apart for longer than three days since we were five, right?” you were rambling at this point, but you couldn’t find it in yourself to care.
“all i wanted was honesty, sarah. and yes, i fucked your brother, but not to spite you. not saying that, that excuses what i did, but i did that because he’s actually more amazing than you give him credit for. has it occured to you that while you’ve been running around the other side of the island he could’ve locked you out of the account and let you be out with no money in your pocket?” sarah ran her fingers through her hair, taking a seat at the kitchen island. “you don’t know him, y/n. the real him.” she looked over at rafe, her lips curling in disgust.
“you’re wrong and you know it,” sarah shot daggers at him. “fucking my best friend is crazy rafe, even for you. wait till i tell dad about this.” she smiled, taunting the both of you as you stood next to each other. “are you stupid? dad already loves y/n, and once i tell him that you put our account in the negatives because you’re withdrawing from atm’s on the other side of the island, you’ll see what he’s more concerned about. me being with y/n, or you giving up money to the pogues for whatever fucking reason.” rafe pulled you close to him, his hand resting on the small of your back.
“you really think he’ll believe you over me? especially with that little coke problem you had? good luck with that.” sarah opened her backpack, placing the card on the table. you couldn’t believe the words coming out of her mouth. you knew rafe had a substance issue in the past, you were around when he was getting help for that, and nothing about it was pretty. “how dare you?” you narrowed your eyes in her direction. “you’re not anyone to throw that in his face. you’re a cheater and a thief, but no one has told you that yet, right? your dad will believe rafe, because i have pictures on my phone of us that match up with the timing of those atm transactions. me and you aren’t friends anymore sarah.” you watched as she got up, making her way over to the front door.
just as you thought she was going to leave, she turned around, this time with tears in her eyes. “i don’t care, y/n, but you have to be the dumbest girl on earth if you think this weird thing y’all got will last. you’re nothing but another hook up to him. do you really think you’re the first girl to make breakfast for him?” she laughed, wiping at her damp cheeks. “don’t ever talk to me again.” she slammed the door, leaving you and rafe in silence. “don’t believe her, she just wants to make you feel bad.” he took your hand, placing a soft kiss on your knuckles. you nodded, the reality of what you did now setting in. you just unfriended sarah, and you didn’t feel bad about it.
“i’m sorry she brought up your past and used it against you.” you pulled him towards the couch as he rubbed circles into your palm. “she does that every time we get in an argument. it doesn’t phase me anymore.” he rolled his eyes. “will you really do that for me? vouch for me.” you nodded at his words. “of course i will, but i think i know a way where you don’t have to call your dad.” you took his phone. “call the bank and tell them the atm withdrawals weren’t yours and they’ll see it as suspicious activity on the card. they should refund you all the money back if you report the card missing.” rafe looked at you like you hung up the sun just for him.
“you’re the smartest girl i know.” he got up, walking to the next room to make the phone call. while he was doing that, you decided to finish up breakfast, surprised that you didn’t burn anything. quickly putting everything on a plate for him, you were pouring yourself a drink when he walked back into the kitchen. “they put all the money back on the card, we should be good now.” he walked past the plate, wrapping his arms around your waist. “that’s good,” you smiled, feeling his lips on your neck.
“you know, as much as this looks delicious, i prefer my breakfast in bed.” he picked you up, your laughs echoing throughout the house as he took you up to his room.
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myficsareset · 6 months
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Love at first sight with Luffy
Love at First Sight (Luffy x Reader)
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A/N : I don't know if this was exactly what you wanted but I hope you'll like it anyway ! Sorry if there's a few mistakes, English is not my first language and I was kinda tired writing this but it was really great to write ! Let me know if you'd like a part 2 !
As you were busy taking orders in the little restaurant you worked in, you heard the door open and turned your head when you heard a bunch of people talking loudly. There were five people now standing at the entrance of the restaurant and you thought that they made quite an interesting group.
As you looked at them, your gaze was immediatly drawn to a young man, a boy that stood among them, wearing a strawhat that covered brown curls. He had a huge grin on his face and was scanning the place, probably looking for a free table.
You stared at him for a few minutes, completly forgetting that you actually had work to do and that part of your job included welcoming new customers.
You hadn't met many people in your life, since you never had the opportunity to leave the small island where you lived, but this young man was probably the cutest you had ever layed eyes upon. There was just something about him that made you impossible to look away.
The brown haired finally turned his head in your direction and you were met by beautiful brown eyes, sparkling with joy and something else you couldn't quite put a name on. The boy had lost his smile and was now looking at you with such wide eyes that you started to feel weird. Your hand tightened on your notebook as your felt your cheeks starting to flush.
A green haired man nudged the straw hat boy who immediately broke eye contact. Your looked away and took a deep breath as if you breath had been taken away.
You opened your notebook, deciding that it was time to go back to work and went to the counter to pass the new orders to your colleagues. You still felt a little weird because of what had just happened but you decided to ignore it and to look around for more orders to take.
You noticed that the only new customers in the restaurant were the group with the strawhat boy.
Your heart started to race when you saw him sitting at the table a few meters away from you, talking cheerfully to his mates. Were you actually going to approach him ? Yes, because it was your job. Why were you so nervous about this anyway ?
You took a deep breath as you made your way to the table and once again your eyes met with the boy, making you instantly blush.
"Hello, what-what can I get for you ?" you asked, looking at him and trying not to show that you were actually very flustered.
The more you looked at him and the more familiar he felt to you. It was a weird feeling but it was actually very nice.
The boy had opened wide eyes and was staring at you without saying anything.
"I didn't know he could stop talking." the green haired man said sarcastically.
"Luffy ? The waitress is talking to you." said a girl with orange hair.
Luffy. So that was his name. You didn't know why but hearing his name felt like music to your ears and you couldn't help but smile a little.
Your cheeks flushed even more as you kept looking at the boy in front of you, who seemed to be totally lost in his thoughts.
He was really beautiful.
Luffy blinked and got back to reality, but he still looked at you like no one had ever looked at you before. His gaze felt warm and gentle, but also very intense.
"Were going to take a bit of everything." he said with that same smile he had earlier, but this time it was clearly addressed to you.
A warmth started spreading through your whole body and you couldn't help but smile back at him, also a little surprised by his request.
His smile felt warm in your heart and somewhat familiar. He really did have a beautiful smile.
Your eyes simply couldn't look away as your thoughts started to race in your head. You had never felt anything like this before.
What was happening to you ?
"Someone's hungry." you replied after a few seconds, both amused and surprised to see that he had ordered the whole menu.
The boy smiled.
"I'm the future king of the pirates so I need to eat enough food !" he said with that same smile plastered on his face.
Future king of the pirates ? That was really ambitious but you thought it was actually endearing. He had dreams and goals and you thought that it added to his charm. And just by looking at him, you just had the feeling that this boy was capable of doing anything.
"I'll get you plenty of food, don't worry mister future king of the pirates." you said smiling.
His eyes widened at the nickname and you could swear that you saw his cheeks turned a little pink.
Wasn't he adorable ?
You decided to look away and took the orders of his friends, before walking away.
You stopped and leaned against the counter of the bar, trying to regain your composure. You heart was beating like crazy and you just couldn't stop your racing thoughts. Your mind was still thinking about Luffy, that beautiful stranger you had just met and exchanged a few words with.
You felt like you were going crazy but most of all, you felt like you were falling in love.
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swarovskiseraph · 10 months
Text
SOME* OF YA'LL ARE NEVER GOING TO GET YOUR DESIRES, AND YOU'LL HAVE NO ONE TO BLAME BUT YOURSELVES
*WARNING: TOUGH LOVE RANT. also, like everything in life, take what resonates with you and leave the rest. if you're not doing anything i mention in this post, then this post doesn't apply to you.
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before anyone comes for me, MOST of us are going through (or have gone through) hard circumstances. many of us have come from abusive households, abusive relationships, poverty, homelessness, & just overall bad circumstances.
but you know why the bloggers & anons who succeed in manifesting their desires/desired lives ACTUALLY SUCCEED?
because they took accountability for their current state and their limiting patterns.
because they were disciplined & determined enough to claim their desire(s), apply the law, & persist regardless of EVERYTHING.
because they knew that this practice would actually change their lives forever and allowed NOTHING to stand in their way.
AND GUESS WHAT? NOW THEY HAVE THEIR DESIRES/DESIRED LIFE!
if you were to be 100% honest and tell me why after months/years of being in this community you STILL haven't manifested your desires/desired life yet, what would be the answer?
overconsumption? procrastination? laziness? lack of persistence?
whatever the case may be, what i do know for a FACT is that it has been no one's fault but YOURS.
many of you guys come running on this platform; asking the same repetitive questions, complaining about not seeing results, whining about how sad your life is and how hard your circumstances are, or just straight up hating on some of these bloggers that are helping you FOR FREE, when they could be using that time to enjoy their desires/the life that they manifested for themselves.
LIKE...DO YOU REALIZE HOW PATHETIC & ENTITLED SOME OF YOU GUYS ARE?
"can you pleaseee manifest/tap into the void for me?" 🥺
"im so lazyyy, i can't be bothered to persist..." 🥱
"loa is FAKE! you guys are a bunch of lying b***hes..." 🤬
"my life is sooo hard, i have such a horrible life...*continues to trauma dump*" 😭
OHHH MYYY F*CKINGGG GODDD!
there are MILLIONS of people in the world who are in unfavorable/horrible circumstances that have NO IDEA what the law of assumption is, and have NO WAY to access this type of information!
you guys literally have the knowledge and awareness to make the most beautiful life possible for yourselves with JUST YOUR IMAGINATION, and yet, A LOT of you guys are the most ungrateful, lazy, irresolute, undisciplined whiners, who don't want to do even the BARE MINIMUM to change your entire lives!!
TRUST ME, everyone on this platform (including myself) understands that there will be setbacks. we all know that they are going to be bad days. we all understand that everyone has their own personal/mental issues. we get that life has obstacles and that not every day will be a win.
BUT, you guys NEED to put in the effort & not give up! you guys NEED to STOP letting your ego win! you guys NEED to get tf off of social media and stop overconsuming information. you guys NEED to claim your desires/desired life, stay consistent & persist until your desires/desired life has materialized.
because guess what, a day turns into a year pretty quickly, and you'll have gone another year of NOT having your desires/desired life, and it's going to be no one's fault but yourself...
do you REALLY want another year of watching everyone else get what they want besides you? do you REALLY want another year of not having your desired appearance, your sp, or financial freedom?
REALLY?
i hope the answer is no...because that's a HUGE waste of time that could be used to actually have the things & life you want.
everyone deserves to live the life they want...but at the end of the day, no one & nothing has the power to manifest the life you want but YOU.
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imperihoe-writes · 5 months
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Requests you say? How can I not ask for 141 x American wife!reader scenarios 😩?
You write the guys so well, I can’t choose.
How I Met Your Mother
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Simon 'Ghost' Riley / fem!Reader
Summary:   How Simon met his American wife.
Content:   civilian partner, biker!Simon, very fluffy with some steamy kisses thrown in there, teasing, swearing, humor
Word Count:   1.5k
Notes: My dear anon, thank you for sending in this request, it helped me out of a major writing slump! ❤️ I hope it‘s okay that they are not yet married in this and that it‘s just Ghost for now - but the 🇺🇸 part was so fun to write. Be prepared for lots of clichés, I giggled through the whole thing.
I can see him going for a no-nonsense woman from a never-heard-of-it hometown. 
You met during one of his leaves after a deployment in the US, when Simon decided to rent a motorcycle on a whim and drive through as many states as he could manage in three weeks instead of flying back to Manchester. 
The bike didn‘t run as well as his own back home, but the landscapes were beautiful. Simon needed a change of scenery, something to clear his mind and nothing ever managed that quite as well as the rumbling of an engine underneath him. 
He’d planned on staying by himself, to maybe rent motels and hotel rooms as he went along instead of planning anything. His whole life always followed a strict set of rules, and just this once, he wanted to disappear off the map and do whatever the hell he wanted.
He didn‘t actually get that far until he met you, leaning up against a sticky bartop - having some beers and watching a game of football (far inferior to rugby in his opinion, but your eyes sparkled whenever the team you were rooting for scored, so he‘d forgive your bad and cliché choices). 
His gaze just couldn‘t seem to let you go, drinking in your boots and washed-out jeans, hair and makeup all nice and your lips shiny with your favorite gloss. 
Fuck it, he wasn‘t going to stay for long, but it couldn‘t hurt to shoot his shot, right? What was the worst thing that could happen? Simon would never see you again anyway. Usually, he wouldn‘t indulge in something like a one night stand or even just flirting, but he found that he really really wanted to with you.
But when he got together the courage to come over and order two beers, your attention was already on him. 
Huge, beautiful man with a scar that bisected his lower lip, curly white-blonde hair and deliciously dark chocolate eyes. Your type in every conceivable way. 
You two stared at each other for a heartbeat, until you cocked your head with a sly smile. It shakes him out of whatever spell he‘d been under, and then the stranger cracks a half-grin back at you.
"D‘you want some company, luv?"
His accent and deep voice made your whole body tingle, the foreign way he drawled his words so different to the accents you‘d grown up with. A sexy, tall Englishman in your little hometown. What kind of romance book did he jump out of? 
"Holy shit," you mumble to yourself, but then smile again and jerk your head towards one of the few empty barstools beside you. "Feel free, honey. But I can‘t guarantee that I won‘t scream in your ear once they wipe the floor with them." 
His dark eyes flicker to the screen above the bar, and he sits down with a grunt. 
It doesn‘t take long for him to start a hilarious commentary about each of the players, and he‘s clearly out of his depth when it comes to the game. Doesn‘t know any of the names, doesn‘t try to impress you with stats or unnecessary explanations of game tactics. He‘s just content to watch, drink a beer and call the biggest NFL players of the season a bunch of pricks whenever they fumble a ball. 
You think you might be in love.
"I just think it‘s funny," you tell him with a laugh as you exit the bar together, warm summer air giving way to the cool breeze of night. "Do it again!"
"'M not a circus clown," he growled back, but his lips twitched up into a smile. "An’ it‘s important for drivin' to have some-"
He stops at your eager gaze, how you‘re practically clutching your hands in excitement over one simple fucking word. You hadn‘t stopped teasing Simon since he‘d ordered a glass of water after the two beers, not because of the water itself but the way he said it.
"-water." Simon finished with a sigh, and you pressed your lips together, trying to hold it in but then burst out laughing anyway.
"Wo'ah, woa-h," You mimic, and he can‘t help his own chuckle at your absolutely terrible impression. You look so fucking nice leaning against his bike, your eyes shining and face genuine even when you tease him. Simon had no one in his life (apart from MacTavish) who dared to even just crack some jokes around him, let alone about him. They were all intimidated by the Ghost persona or the Lieutenant rank, but you hadn‘t batted an eye when he briefly mentioned his career.
"Better than wahder," he grumbles, and you practically shriek with laughter at the completely ridiculous way his tongue tries to form the word. 
Simon grins again after a second or two, and then can‘t resist the temptation to gently drag you closer by the belt loops of your jeans. He still keeps a respectful distance between his body and yours, even though you wouldn‘t have minded if he‘d just- what? Leaned in and kissed you? Bent you over the motorcycle until all you could feel was smooth leather and that ridiculously toned chest and stomach? Jesus Christ, you were fucked.
"Wan' me to drive you home, or d‘you have someone that‘ll pick you up, luv?"
"Smooth way of asking if I have a boyfriend," you smirk, and he matches the impression. The scar on his lip makes him look dangerous and sexy all at once and you just want to bury your fingers in those curls and-
"Or a girlfriend, we don't discriminate in England." 
It‘s such a ridiculous thing to say, you burst out laughing again. 
"Just because I asked wether or not it‘s true that you‘re all stuck-up about your teas! Doesn‘t mean I think the same applies to people!"
"‘M not a posh prick," Simon rolls his eyes, and you wish that smirking mouth was pressed to yours instead. "I‘ll take my tea in whatever capacity I can. None o’that Starbucks shit you Americans inhale."
You gasp, then sneak your arms over his shoulders to loosely tangle your fingers behind his head. As though he‘d been waiting for permission, Simon drags you closer by sliding his massive paws that pass for human hands over your hip bones and lower back. 
"On behalf of the American population, I will have to defend Starbucks pumpkin spice lattes till death."
"Yeah?" He mumbles, then his eyes dip to your mouth for a second before snapping back up to your eyes. It makes you grin.
"You‘re too easy, Simon," you tease him, but even to your own ears it sounds a little breathless. Of course you hadn‘t missed the way he‘d looked at you all evening.
His hands tighten a little, and then he leans his head down to yours, towering over you but it‘s not uncomfortable or even intimidating. The way he pronounces water echoes through your mind again, and you can‘t keep the giggle inside.
With an eye roll and a smile, he knows exactly what you‘re thinking, Simon slides one of his hands along your jaw and into your hair, then shuts off the sweet sound of your voice with a small kiss. You‘d expected it, but it still stunned you for a moment, and when he pulls away again, you stare up at him with wide eyes.
He quirks an eyebrow in question, and looks so god damn sexy doing it, that you practically jump him.
Thankfully, Simon is much more stable on his feet than you are, and doesn‘t seem to have any problem catching you in his arms as you kiss him over and over again. You might not know him, some might even call this borderline crazy, but you trust him. And Simon not only looks good, is respectful and drives the sexiest motorcycle ever, but he‘s also unpretentious and kind. You can feel it in your bones, the gentleness that this giant possesses as he cradles your head and lifts you off your feet a little when your tongue meets his.
The addicting mix of leather, some faint cologne and beer has your head swimming, and you wonder if it‘s possible to get drunk off of a person. 
When you let go of him for a moment, he kisses along your cheekbone as you catch your breath.
"Bloody hell," he growls, hand flexing where it rests on that soft curve between thigh and asscheek. 
You giggle. 
„Bloo-ie, bloodee-"
Simon shuts you up with yet another kiss, and you can‘t stop the foolish hope that this won‘t be a one time thing, that he won‘t be gone in the morning, and that you‘re not setting yourself up for another round of heartbreak.
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It was a narrow decision between Ghost and Price for me, so let me know if anyone would be interested in reading a version with our Captain as well!
I hope y‘all have THE BEST weekend, I‘m gonna have to bite the bullet and clean my apartment now. Slobbery kisses to all of you! - A✨
My general COD writing masterlist with all my longer stories, a COD headcanons masterlist including this one + the COD Halloween Monster Special. It‘s all linked separately in my pinned blog post for easy navigation as well!
pink banner by @cafekitsune 💖
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rosepompadour · 3 months
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On one occasion she brought me a couple of rose bushes. It was a cold day in early March. She said, "If you put them in now you'll just make it; this one is called after me - rather pretty, and very sweet of them - and this one," indicating a little bunch of thorns in a plastic bag, "this one is new, I ordered it specially for you, it's called 'Super Star'." And I said, rather lightly, "Then they are both called after you, how lovely." Viv was quite still for a moment, and then her eyes rimmed with tears and she hugged me like a little bear. And we just stood there in the cold garden among the silent roses until she had composed herself. When she was ill, this last time, she sent me a card with a lady wearing a huge cartwheel hat covered in cherries and lace, an old theatrical postcard, I think it was of Lily Elsie, and she wrote, "This is what I wear in bed to receive my guests and visitors. Don't wait until I'm stronger, I'm simply splendid; do, do come in sometime next week." But there wasn't a next week. - Dirk Bogarde
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boxbug · 6 months
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A Canary’s Final Flight
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My piece for @trafficzine 4th edition! Get it for free here! 200 pages of excellent art and fics, incredible work from all participants and from the mods especially!! huge shoutout to the mods for real
Process notes under the cut! (I struggled a lot so it's a bit of a novel)
So the entire process was a Ride. I knew when I picked this prompt that I was going to have a hard time, because Jimmy’s final death had been illustrated a billion times over by extremely talented artists. But I had a Vision of the snapshot of the second before the impact, when everything is still but you know what’s about happen. It was very much inspired by the clip of Fog by Jabberwocky, bu the thing is, they have the advantage of all the build up of the fall, and that’s when the trouble started.
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This was my first version, and obviously it wasn't working. And I was trying so hard, with so many iterations! Small wings, big wings, no wings, different poses, less backgrounds elements. I'd done compositions were everything seemed peaceful but something is Wrong, but it wasn't working this time.
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So instead I focused on what rendering I'd like to do - I tried a painterly approach, for that visceral feeling, but it wasn't working either (but hey, I did keep the red sky, so, progress)
At this point I'd been doing back and forths for weeks and I was just as lost as at the start. Now that's my tip for people who make art of any kind, in situations like that, stop thinking about how you can make the best piece possible, and think about you can have fun with it (because when you aren't it's visible). And for that was, 1 - going back to using ink and pen nibs and doing way too detailed inking, and 2- looking at Dave McKean's covers for Sandman (which, funnily enough, was also a reference for my previous trafficzine piece)
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And from there I was actually going somewhere! Between the jagged rocks, the red sky, and the increased verticality with the borders, I had hit the vibes I wanted.
I did some experimentation with the border, and even though I really liked the bad boys I drew they were taking too much away from the lonely desolation, so I actually used Red (Unecessary Redstone)'s idea of all of Jimmy's worldy's possessions scattered on the ground post impact, with the idea to make it looks like the central image is his grave being dug.
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(and yes for a short amount of time the were supposed to be clock markings on the sun, but there was already enough going with the wings so I scrapped that) (also fun fact the reason why the wings aren't fully material but more ghostly is because my toddler cousin was watching me draw the very first draft and asked why he didn't just use his wings and i went :( so the wings are a metaphor now)
So from there I found a bunch of picture and took some myself, cut and assembled everything together, added shadows in all the appropriate places, and repainted some elements so that everything would look better intergrated (some of the wheats are basically 100% handpainted, the cardboard as well). This took a suprisingly long amount of time, but I was done!
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Well I wasn't expecting to have that much to say, but I hope if you're still reading, it was at least interesting!
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boop-le-snoot · 8 months
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masterlist
dirt
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sundress+no panties+daryl = uh oh...
title and soundtrack is dirt by depeche mode. you need to take depeche mode away from me tbh, I'm hung up on the exciter album writing smut when I should be making updates to my negan and ironstrange fics.
I also headcanon daryl having huge fat swinging balls for some reason and I'm so sorry you had to read that I turn into an animal when I write daryl
cw: 18+, word count 3k. a little rough (butt slaps, some bites, he calls you a "bitch in heat" and a "slut" a couple of times - lovingly of course), a little pervy (you're fucking outside and daryl eats his own come out of your pussy+breeding kink if you squint really hard).
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He reaches in, fingers curling around the bunched up, patterned cotton of the dress and his mind blanks. The low growling, he realises, is coming from his own mouth.
"The fuck, girl?"
You look at Daryl over your shoulder, where the bare skin has erupted in goosebumps from his hot, humid breath. "What?"
You sound annoyed, but there's a distinctive teasing undertone to it. Your eyes are narrowed a little too much. The corners of your cherry-tinted lips are tilted upwards.
"You ripped all my damn underwear, Daryl! What did you expect?" You grouch, breaking the second of still silence. "Can't just take a stroll to Victoria's Secret anymore, can I?" Seeing his face darken even more, you hastily add, "I got a couple I wear on runs."
You sound so cute when you're annoyed, Daryl thinks, but it's overshadowed by his blood rushing in his ears, hot and fast. His cock is still pulsing in his jeans and it demands to be released.
"So you jus' walkin' 'round with allat juicy ass hangin' out fo' all da men to sniff?" Daryl feels an urge to clarify to you, what is exactly you're doing, that he's upset with. "Cuz that's exactly what all them dawgs are fuckin' doin'!" He's jealous, of course he is, but most importantly, he doesn't trust any of the men as far as he can see them.
Hell, he isn't completely sure even Rick would pass on the opportunity to get an eyeful of your soft thighs, your scrumptious ass, or your fat cunt, for that matter.
Lord knows they're the juiciest fucking things he has seen in his whole entire miserable life. Just thinking about it makes his rock hard cock twitch and release a sad dribble of pre-cum in his pants.
"Exactly, your girl!" You declare, eyeroll audible in your voice. "Nobody's seein' me without my panties 'cept you."
Daryl's only response is to hitch up the sundress higher, the movement so quick, the fabric gives a sad crack as the seams threaten to burst. Your ass is still bare, still round and smooth as ever, nobody should have this sort of curves while they're in the middle of a damn apocalypse, he thinks, and sinks to his knees and sinks his teeth into the supple skin of your right ass cheek.
You yelp at the sharp pain. You squirm, your attempt at getting away, of course, futile: your hips and waist are firmly in his grasp. Rough fingertips dig into you, just shy of painful.
"There," Daryl inches back a bit, admiring the indentations left behind by his teeth. For someone who forgets to take care of himself most days, his teeth are surprisingly straight and white and strong. And he lets you feel it. "Now if any asshole decides to go nosin' where he shouldn't, there'll be a warnin'." Daryl sounds proud of himself, which is all and all - fair.
Once the initial shock subsides, your feel your cunt lips stick together even more as your arousal oozes out of them- and down your thighs, now that there isn't any fabric to contain it all. In all honesty, you did enjoy the occasional breeze that would waft up your skirt, even if it didn't offer much respite from the sweltering summer heat.
And Daryl is definitely not helping matters, either. He's like a damn furnace, pressed up against the back of your legs, all solid bulk, breathing hot and moist into your skin, every exhale going around the curve of your ass and disappearing between your legs. He knows it the moment that you shift in place, subtly trying to widen your stance even though there is nothing more you want than to rub your thighs together to provide relief to your swollen lips and throbbing clit.
He raises a hand, wide and open-palmed, and smacks your ass. "You're such a fuckin' slut," he grouses. And your first instinct is to gasp at the offense; you hide your grin in a lip bite. Yes, yes you are. And you know it. And he knows it. Your ass cheek jiggles as he gives it another well-aimed slap. "Lookit you," Daryl presses the issue, "drippin' wet." To hammer his point home, he takes a thick, fat finger and runs it along the seam of your cunt.
It glides easily. You shudder, biting back a moan. Your legs shake just a little, but Daryl notices - he always does - and his finger dips inside your lips. The rough, calloused fingertip swipes through your labia, stopping just short of your clit. You whine and he withdraws.
His numerous knives and tools clatter as he abruptly gets up.
"You wanna be fucked, huh?" Voice quiet, Daryl's front presses to your back with a malicious intent. The prominent bulge of his erection is pushing into your back. "Is that why you goin' round naked? So anybody coulda bend you over, anytime, huh?" He reaches around you, hand blindly nosing for your face. When he finds it, he wastes no time in prying your mouth open, sticking the damp finger inside.
Your own cunt, salty and tangy, blossoms on your tongue. The gesture makes you moan around his finger and him- he sticks another one in, keeping you quiet.
"Shut the fuck up," Daryl orders. The rasp in his voice makes your knees buck and your cunt weep and he knows it. His free hand moves at your back, and with the accompanying noises, you come to realise that he's opening his pants and hurrying to free his dick.
When the damp, silky tip touches the bare skin of your ass, your body reacts before you do. Your mouth wraps tighter around his fingers. Spit dribbles from the corners of your mouth and onto his wrist. Your back arches into his body. He is just as scalding as the sun beaming down from the sky.
Daryl pushes his fingers deeper into your mouth, holding them there until you gag. The motion makes your whole form spasm and shiver; his cock gives a responding jump of its own.
"Lookit you," he rasps directly into your ear, hot breath tickling the shell of it. "Like a fuckin' bitch in heat," he grabs the meat of your ass cheek, spreading you one-handed. His cockhead noses around the cleft, leaving a sticky trail behind itself. It dips near your cunt, adding your juices to the mix. "You want it so bad."
You do. You really, really do. But you know Daryl is mean. You love it when he's mean to you. When he is proud of the strength of his bulk, when his eyebrows draw tightly over his brilliant blue eyes and nothing, absolutely nothing can escape his predatory stare. You crane your neck, trying to look back at him, to plead with your eyes.
He gets it, because he always does. Daryl's fingers quickly leave your mouth, dragging a wet trail of spit down to your neck where his fingers wrap around it in a secure hold.
"You want it so bad, then fuckin' beg," he says the words and you immediately, greedily descend into the permitted depravity.
"Please, Daryl," your voice sounds hoarse, interrupted by hiccups as you struggle to swallow the saliva that had pooled in your mouth and around his fingers, "please, fuck me. I'll be good. Please."
You feel him fist his cock as it twitches; you can't help it, really, as you arch your back even more and push your ass against his rough hand. Immediately, he withdraws it, just to slap you again.
"You're a bitch in heat," he muses, but you can hear the beginnings of impatience in his voice. "Say it!"
He's never made you do that before. Wide-eyed and open-mouthed, you gasp, part shock part offense, until you feel a drop of fluid roll out over the outer lip of your cunt and fall and disappear somewhere below you. Then it's just lust. The kind that tints the whole world red and narrows your field of vision.
"Fuckin' say it!" Daryl demands, patience thin.
You wouldn't put it past him to just shove himself in at this point. "I'm... I'm a bi- I'm a bitch in heat," you hiccup, feeling your face flood with heat. "I'm a bitch in heat, please fuck me!"
You feel his lips tilt up just the tiniest bit against your ear before he reaches back for his cock and aims it at your cunt in a single, precise thrust. You gasp and mewl as he suddenly stops halfway through. Your cunt ripples and flexes and squeezes. Daryl drops his forehead onto your shoulder, panting.
"So fuckin' tight," he murmurs, mostly to himself. You're not - he knows better, he makes sure you're not before he even thinks about sticking it in - but you are. All that blood that went straight to your cunt the moment his breath caught up in his throat at the sight of your bare pussy - It's making your cunt swell all around him.
A pathetic mewl leaves your lips, your satisfaction incomplete. You wiggle, you arch, but Daryl is as unyielding as ever.
"You take what I give you," he growls, teeth bared like an animal against your ear. Nonetheless, you feel the tip of his cock kiss your cervix. Stars burst in your eyes. You are so full, practically bursting at the seam of your cunt where his fat balls rest against the stretched hole.
Slowly, Daryl withdraws, both of you hissing at the drag of his fat cock in your engorged cunt. You may be a bitch in heat but he's every bit the stud that is just as fervent and feral to breed you. His teeth creak as he pulls back completely, leaving just his weeping tip inside of you.
And then he slams home. And again. And again. And again.
With every powerful thrust of his hips, you gasp. Quiet, pleading moans is the limit of your vocal capacity. Mouth dry, the air gets trapped in the back of your throat as your lungs demand their due.
Daryl is unrelenting. His blunt fingernails drag over the skin of your throat, leaving marks in their wake, as he makes way to your mouth.
"This is what you wanted, slut?" He pants into your hair. "Be quiet. Be really fucking quiet unless you want everybody to see what kinda..." He inhales sharply, feeling your walls flutter at the flith dripping from his tongue.
And it shouldn't make you feel the way you feel. Those fucking words just add more accelerant to the fire in the pit of your stomach, spreading it from there and up, over your face. It flames. Your hand helplessly clutches the nearest surface as you attempt to brace yourself against his thrusts and the notion that anyone could see you.
Bent over something or another, dress hiked up to your waist and Daryl's hips pistoning in and out of you at a rapid pace. He didn't bother undressing save for letting his pants hang freely just below his cock and balls. Heavy, fat balls, littered with coarse dark hair, that slap against your cunt and your clit with a resounding smack every time he drives his cock inside of your cunt. The squelching noise it makes is obscene.
Another whine, and your pussy squeezes him once again, blind and hungry for release. You can feel it building steadily, deep within your abdomen.
"Fuck yeah," Daryl growls, "you fuckin' like this, don't 'cha?" He's gotten the hang of it: the dirty talk, he knows exactly how to get under your skin. He's a mean bastard with nothing close to dignity or self-respect. If anyone saw him, rutting into you, little more than two animals, he wouldn't, couldn't stop.
Daryl would stare them down up until his cock swelled and busted, depositing his seed inside your womb.
Your knees feel weak. It's getting harder and harder to keep up with him; seems like every pathetic whimper that leaves your lips only makes him meaner, stronger somehow. The grip of his hand on your hip is bruising. Daryl effectively wears you on his cock, submerging himself into the warm depths of your pulsing cunt over and over.
"Da-Daryl..." You gasp, you moan and you plead.
He doesn't stop. He merely handles you into a different angle, the one that hits that special spot inside of you with every powerful thrust. He is mean, but he is also fair.
"Gonna cream my cock?" He barely makes sense to himself, the words that his dry mouth garbles seem to have a mind of their own. "Gonna be good, girl? C'mon."
"Ah," you want to say yes, you want to affirm, but all that comes out of your mouth are garbled, unintelligible noises of pleasure. But Daryl sees it. It's in the way your arch becomes near-painful, body overtaking your mind. Even the slightest bit of pain blends into hot-blinding pleasure. You don't know where what ends and begins.
It begins somewhere behind your cunt. The contractions start slow and aching, and every punch of his cock to your guts intensifies the feeling tenfold, until every last inch of your cunt is squeezing around him in that same arduous, suckling rhythm. It's like your pussy is nursing at his cock, attempting to suck his life out of him and deposit it into you.
The pleasure is like a wall of fire and water. Your chest blooms with it, but your extremities swarm with pinpricks. Mouth parted in a silent scream, you sway forward, managing to catch yourself on your elbows at the last moment.
The man behind you doesn't care. He's way past caring, having had started chasing his release the moment your cunt enveloped his cock in a vice grip. The meat of it is sensitive and he spends the few inches to the finish line gracelessly mashing it inside of you, accompanied by the sound of wet flesh meeting even wetter, sloppier flesh.
"Take it, fuckin' take it," you hear him gasp through your stupor before that familiar, warm rush floods your cunt. His cock twitches, once, twice, three times, each forceful throb followed up by more and more seed being pumped into the depths of you.
Against your back, Daryl sags and pants out his excerption. Like a dog. His wet nose leaves sweat stains on your back where he nuzzles into you.
Your knees shake as you struggle to hold up his weight, and then your legs completely turn to mush when droplets of his cum escape your cunt as his spent cock slips out. You know you should be worried about stains in unsightly places but somehow, you can't bring yourself to care.
Daryl notices this, of course. His bulk slides off you; you hear him quickly shove himself back into his pants before his ass hits the ground with a loud thud. Next to you, of course, his stubbly, prickly cheek rubbing over the skin of your leg. He places a wet kiss on the inside of your thigh, and then another.
You know the drill. It's hard for him to find words, sometimes, after a scene like that. It's the intensity of it, the forceful ejection of him out of his head where he spends most of the time, that renders him speechless. Daryl is forced to feel - good things. It's not something that he is used to.
Your skirt is still around your waist and the hot sun is shooting lasers directly at your ass and pussy. You've managed to get your bearings enough to feel at least a little self-conscious, a little exposed. Your combined fluid still drip from you and for a split second, you think about pulling up your panties to try and at least somewhat contain the mess.
Right, you sigh to yourself. It makes your exhausted body twitch and sag even more.
Daryl gently pushes away your hand that was attempting to pull the dress over your ass. You freeze; he smiles against your skin, a little closed-lipped grin that makes something warm and fuzzy make a nest inside your chest. That quickly turns into a startled gasp as his fingers glide through the mess of your cunt.
You're spent. Exhausted. So sensitive, his rough skin practically hurts on your hole and clit.
But Daryl gets it. You get him, and he - he gets you. His hot breath fans over your pubic hair and it's all the warning you get before he opens his mouth wide, flattens his tongue and licks. You've made a big mess and there is a lot to take care of, but if there's anything about Daryl that you know, is that he's thorough at what he does.
In no time, he's got his tongue shoved down your cunt as far as it would go, curling against your walls, lapping up his and your cum like your pussy is an all-you-can-eat-buffet and what's inside of it is sugar and spice and everything nice.
But it's not enough. It's not anywhere near your clit, or any other place that could make you produce more of the cream he's feasting on. Idly, you think about who's the real bitch in heat here, but push out your hips to meet his face nonetheless. You can be mean too. If you want to.
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I don't know what to say for myself
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dylobilysmomg · 2 months
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Motel Fever
𝗙𝗮𝗻𝗱𝗼𝗺: 𝗧𝗲𝗲𝗻 𝗪𝗼𝗹𝗳
𝗣𝗮𝗶𝗿𝗶𝗻𝗴: 𝗦𝘁𝗶𝗹𝗲𝘀 𝗦𝘁𝗶𝗹𝗶𝗻𝘀𝗸𝗶 𝘅 𝗙𝗲𝗺!𝗥𝗲𝗮𝗱𝗲𝗿
𝗪𝗼𝗿𝗱𝘀: 𝟯.𝟭𝗸
𝗪𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀: 𝗡𝗦𝗙𝗪! 𝗼𝗿𝗮𝗹 (𝗳𝗲𝗺 𝗿𝗲𝗰𝗲𝗶𝘃𝗶𝗻𝗴), 𝗽𝗻𝘃, 𝗽𝗿𝗼𝘁𝗲𝗰𝘁𝗲𝗱 𝘀𝗲𝘅, 𝗲𝗻𝗲𝗺𝗶𝗲𝘀 𝘁𝗼 𝗹𝗼𝘃𝗲𝗿𝘀
𝗢𝗻 𝗥𝗲𝗽𝗲𝗮𝘁: 𝗦𝗻𝗮𝗽 𝗢𝘂𝘁 𝗢𝗳 𝗜𝘁 𝗯𝘆 𝗔𝗿𝗰𝘁𝗶𝗰 𝗠𝗼𝗻𝗸𝗲𝘆𝘀
↻ ◁ II ▷ ↺
𝗔/𝗡: 𝗜 𝗷𝘂𝘀𝘁 𝘀𝗮𝘄 𝗗𝘆𝗹𝗮𝗻’𝘀 𝗮𝘀𝘀 𝗳𝗼𝗿 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗳𝗶𝗿𝘀𝘁 𝘁𝗶𝗺𝗲 𝘁𝗼𝗱𝗮𝘆 𝗻𝗼 𝗼𝗻𝗲 𝘀𝗽𝗲𝗮𝗸 𝘁𝗼 𝗺𝗲. 𝗜𝗳 𝘆𝗼𝘂 𝗹𝗶𝗸𝗲𝗱 𝘁𝗵𝗶𝘀, 𝗹𝗶𝗸𝗲 𝗮𝗻𝗱 𝗿𝗲𝗯𝗹𝗼𝗴! 𝗖𝗵𝗲𝗰𝗸 𝗼𝘂𝘁 𝘀𝗼𝗺𝗲 𝗼𝗳 𝗺𝘆 𝗼𝘁𝗵𝗲𝗿 𝘄𝗼𝗿𝗸 (𝗬𝗲𝗮𝗵 𝘁𝗼𝘁𝗲𝘀 𝗰𝗹𝗶𝗰𝗸 𝘁𝗵𝗼𝘀𝗲 𝗹𝗶𝗻𝗸𝘀!) 𝗠𝘆 𝗟𝗶𝗻𝗸𝗧𝗿𝗲𝗲. 𝗡𝗮𝘃𝗶𝗴𝗮𝘁𝗶𝗼𝗻. 𝗟𝘂𝘃 𝘆𝗮!!
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𝗻𝗼𝘁 𝗺𝘆 𝗴𝗶𝗳!
“You’ve got to be kidding me.” I groan from beside Allison, taking a look at the disaster coach calls a motel.
“I’ve seen worse.” Scott says, and I scoff. “Where have you see worse?” Stiles replies, rolling his eyes. I pull my jacket closer to my body, trying to shield myself from the wind the storm brings.
The track team circles up as Coach speaks up. “Listen up! The meet’s been pushed til tomorrow.” There’s a groan that comes from just about all of us in unison at that. “This is the closest motel with the most vacancies and the least amount of good judgment when it comes to accepting a bunch of…degenerates like yourselves. You’ll be pairing up, choose wisely.”
Me and Allison walk up and grab a key from Coach, checking out the number and practically stomping to our room. Scott and Stiles close behind us.
“And I’ll have no sexual perversions perpetrated by you little deviants, got that? Keep your dirty little hands to your dirty little selves!” Coach shouts as everyone makes their way to their rooms for the night.
“I can’t believe this. How much you wanna bet we wake up to a cancelled track meet tomorrow.” I complain, approaching our motel room, which is oh so conveniently right next to Scott and Stiles’ 𝘖𝘩 𝘨𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘵.
I stop at the door, waiting for Allison to unlock it, but she’s taking her sweet time chatting it up with Scott. Stiles whips past me, brushing my shoulder.
“Hey Stiles, will you and Scott do me a favor and keep the moans down tonight. I would rather not listen to you two get in on while I get my beauty sleep.” I taunt him, leaning against the door, burning time while I wait for Allison.
Stiles halts his actions of unlocking his door to turn to me, “Didn’t you hear the coach, Y/N? ‘𝘕𝘰 𝘴𝘦𝘹𝘶𝘢𝘭 𝘱𝘦𝘳𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘴𝘪𝘰𝘯𝘴.’ Or is that word too big for you? Need me to dumb it down?” He jabs and I scoff in his face.
“Oh I heard him all right. I just wonder if you did.” I counter, watching as he scoffs, tongue poking out to glide over his teeth.
“We’ll be quiet, Y/N/N. Besides, I don’t want to interrupt your beauty sleep; God knows you need it.” He says, and before I can come up with a comeback, Allison is coming up behind me and unlocking our door.
Scott passes us both and bypasses Stiles into their room, “Sleep tight, Y/N.” Stiles sneers before disappearing behind Scott.
I join Allison in our room, shutting and locking the door behind me. “I hope you don’t kick in your sleep, or someone’s gonna sleep on the floor tonight and it won’t be me.” I say, looking at the single bed in the middle of the dreary room.
“About that…” Allison says, her face already completely giving away what she’s about to tell me.
“Allison,” I warn her, and she trots in front of me with pleading eyes. “Would you do me a huge, huge favor and switch with Scott tonight?” She begs, and I’m completely and utterly in shock.
“You cannot be serious. You want me, to share a room, a 𝘣𝘦𝘥, with 𝘚𝘵𝘪𝘭𝘦𝘴?!” I try to wrap my head around the idea of having to survive a night with Stiles Stilinski. Yeah right, 𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘮𝘺 𝘥𝘦𝘢𝘥 𝘣𝘰𝘥𝘺.
“Yeah, no, no way in hell!” I shout, hands flailing in the air. “Have you even met me?!” I ask, baffled that she’d even think that I’d ever agree to such a thing. “I mean? have you even met Stiles?! I can’t stand him for more than a few seconds, let alone hours!” I exclaim.
“Then don’t stand him, sit on him instead.” Allison says, the tone in her voice suggestive. I scoff, “Yeah right, me and Stiles? Never in a million years.” I say, the idea completely out of the question.
“Oh come on, Y/N! You could cut the sexual tension between you two with a knife! You guys just need to fuck and make up.” Allison tries to convince me, and I’m trying to deny the pit in my stomach that tells me she might be right.
“Allison you’re crazy. There’s no tension between Stiles and I.” I answer, rolling my eyes. “Oh please, Y/N! Please, please, pleaseeeee!” She begs, not backing down.
I groan out, “Alright! Alright! But you owe me big time for this.” I finally give in, and Allison pounces onto me to give me a tight hug.
“Y/N you won’t regret this, I’m texting Scott now.” She says giddily, and I change into my pajamas while we wait for Scott.
After a few minutes, there’s a knock at our door, and I open it to reveal a just-as-giddy Scott McCall. “Y/N,” He greets me with a tight lipped smile. “Scott.” I answer, brushing passed him and out the door.
It’s dark, rainy, and cold outside. I stand in front of Stiles’ motel room, shivering in my pajama shorts and matching t-shirt. I knock. No answer. I knock again. Still nothing.
“Stiles I know this isn’t the most pleasant arrangement but it’s freezing outside, please let me in.” I plead, my teeth chattering. Still nothing. Nothing but the howling of the wind and the drops of rain.
I sigh, sliding my back down against the door, sitting down on the cold cement. I pull my knees to my chest, wrapping my arms around myself as I shiver.
Then suddenly, the door is pulled open without warning and I look up to see a half naked Stiles. “What’re you doing?” He asks, looking down at me as I scurry up and onto my feet. “Waiting for you to let me in, dumbass. It’s cold out here.” I chatter, pushing past his naked upper half and into the room.
The room is ice cold, not any better than outside in the elements. Stiles rolls his eyes coming back into the room and locking the door behind him.
I turn to him to ask why the heater isn’t on when he beats me to it. “Yeah, well, the heater is broken to shit so it’s not much better in here.” He answers my unspoken question. I shake my head, sitting on the bed, head in my hands. “This cannot be happening right now.” I complain, more to myself than Stiles.
“You wanna complain some more, Y/N? Since you’re so good at it.” He jabs, padding to his bag, digging through it. I scoff in response, and it’s then that I look up and take real notice of him frame. 𝘏𝘢𝘴 𝘩𝘦 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘺 𝘣𝘦𝘦𝘯 𝘪𝘯 𝘫𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘢 𝘵𝘰𝘸𝘦𝘭 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘸𝘩𝘰𝘭𝘦 𝘵𝘪𝘮𝘦?
“Take a picture, it’ll last longer.” He says, pulling me out of my daze. “Whatever, get some other desperate girl to be your paparazzi.” I reply, digging into my bag for my phone charger, but it’s nowhere to be found.
Stiles goes into the dinky bathroom to change, coming out to me huffing and puffing. “What is it now?” He asks irritated, emerging from the bathroom in plaid pajama pants and a navy blue t-shirt. “I think I left my fucking charger at home.” I groan, checking my phone percentage. 12%
He chuckles, getting snuggled into the single bed and plugging his phone in, rubbing it right in my face. He turns his phone to the side, putting on some tv show. I grab my bag off the bed and drop it to the floor, “Make some room will you?” I push his feet from above the covers, and he scoots a millimeter to the side.
I curse under my breath, jumping into the bed and shoving him over some as he watched his phone. “Jeez, Y/N/N. If you wanted to get in bed with me that bad you should’ve just said so.” Stiles quips, and I pull at the cold blanket to cover myself.
“Oh please, get over yourself. You’re the last person I’d ever want to be in bed with.” I roll my eyes, getting out my phone to distract myself from him until it inevitably dies.
We’re laying shoulder the shoulder. He’s holding up his phone as he watches Supernatural, and before long my phone is dead.
I set my phone on the nightstand to my right, then turning over to lay on my left side and watch his show. My face is millimeters away from his broad shoulder, and he turns his head to me, peering down.
“What do you think you’re doing?” He asks, attention split between me and the phone. “My phone died, and I like Supernatural.” I say, my eyes flick from the screen to him.
“You like this? Scott hates it.” He says, turning his face back to his phone. Is he starting a normal conversation with me? What universe is this?
“Of course Scott hates it, he hates all things 𝘴𝘶𝘱𝘦𝘳𝘯𝘢𝘵𝘶𝘳𝘢𝘭.” I say, wiggling magic fingers in his face. He chuckles, “Yeah, guess it’s too close to home for him. I like it though, I like to think we’re like them.” He says, comparing him and Scott to Sam and Dean.
“So which one are you? Sam or Dean?” I ask, giggling. “Which one do you think I am?” Stiles ponders, his attention fully turned toward me by now. “Definitely Sam,” I answer confidently, “he’s my favorite.” I add, my eyes suddenly avoiding his own.
There’s an awkward silence for a moment before Stiles breaks it. “Awe, so you like me more than Scott?” He pokes fun at me, and I roll my eyes. “In your dreams, Stilinski. I wouldn’t be caught dead with you unless the situation was dire.” I counter, rolling over to my back, his phone long forgotten.
He turns it off, setting it on the nightstand on his side. “See that’s where you’re wrong.” He says, and the tone in the chilly room shifts. He sits up to almost hover over me. His face the closest it’s ever been to mine, and I can’t help but flicker my eyes from his to his lips and back again.
“I think you wanted this. I think you want me.” He says, voice huskier and hushed. “Stiles…” I can’t think of a witty response, I can’t think about anything besides his lips, and how impossibly close they are to my own.
“Say it. Tell me, Y/N.” He demands, a veiny hand dipping under the covers to slink down my thigh. My mind is running a hundred miles a minute, short circuiting.
“Awe, fuck it.” I whisper, more to myself than him, closing the gap between us. Our lips connect in a searing kiss, and my hands shoot up to his neck, pulling him down to me.
He growls into my mouth, moving to now completely hover on top of me, my legs instinctively opening to make room for him. His arms prop himself up over me, and my hands explore his body, moving to slide up and under his shirt. I slowly push up his shirt til his sits up, pulling it off in one swoop.
He’s so fucking hot. My hands dance along his slightly defined abs, speckled like his face. “Like what you see?” He taunts, leaning back down over me to assault my neck with his lips. “Oh, bite me.” I snip, and he nips at my throat in response.
Stiles trails his nimble fingers up my shirt, but I stop him, pushing his chest until he’s off of me. I push him over to his back, straddling his waist to be on top. I settle myself into his lap, his hands gripping my hips tightly. I pull my shirt up and off my body, revealing myself to him. The cold nips at my now half naked frame, nipples perking up and gossebumps cover my body.
I shiver a little, “It’s so cold in here, Stiles.” I whisper, and he snakes a hand up my waist and all the way up to my neck, pulling my face down to his. “Don’t worry, baby,” He whispers seductively, “I’ll warm you up.”
Our lips meet once again, tongues fighting for dominance. I grind down into his lap, his boner prominently poking me beneath his pants. He moans deliciously into my mouth as I do so, hands slipping into my shorts, groping my ass.
I moan as he rocks me in his lap, “God, why did we wait so long for this?” I whispers, looking up at me with those auburn eyes. “Because we hate each other.” I answer breathlessly.
“I could never hate you, baby.”
Then he’s forcefully pushing me back over, hands dipping into the waist band or my sleep shorts, pulling them and my panties down in one go. He places a palm on each of my knees, spreading my legs apart. I’m now fully bare and at his mercy.
I moan in anticipation as he methodically kisses up my thigh, getting close and closer to my dripping heat. He then brings a finger to swipe through my folds, my slick covering his digit as it glistens. “All this and I’ve barely even touched you.” He taunts me.
“Stiles please,” I beg, but he’s not ready to give in just yet. “Please what? Use your words.” He says huskily. “Please Stiles, please touch me.” I plead.
Stiles licks a stripe through my folds, sending shivers sound my spine. His mouth attacks my heat, his tongue working wonders. Stiles is like a starved man, feeding on anything and everything he can get his hands on. Feasting upon me. He sends me over the edge almost immediately. My hands shoot down to his head, gripping his hair til my knuckles turn white.
Stiles detaches his lips from my clit, sitting up to his knees and standing up off the bed. He drops his pajama pants to the ground, before zipping over to his bag to retrieve a condom from it. He rushes back over to the bed, pulling his boxers off in an instant, kneeling onto the bed in front of you as he rolls the condom into his think length.
My fists grip the bed covers, watching as he lines his swollen tip with my entrance, teasing me with it. “Stiles,” I moan, and he slides himself in completely.
He hisses as he does so, burying himself to the hilt. “Fuck, Stiles.” I moan out breathlessly. Stiles thrusts are hard, his rhythm unbearable. “Yeah, you like that?” He whispers, leaning down to me ear. His voice deep and husky, full of lust. His lips dip down to nip at my throat. “Yes, Stiles.” I moan, and I feel him smile against my kiss peppered skin.
“Awe, fuck.” Stiles drawls out into my ear, sitting up to his knees, still fucking me, his rhythm perfect. “Say my name.” He orders me, his hands gripping my hips as he pistons into me. I can barely take it.
Of course I do as he says. I moan his name, eyes rolling back, my mouth hung wide open as moans spill out of me. He slides a hand to my cunt, his thumb moving to circle my clit. He watches with hooded eyes where we meet as he fucks me senseless.
“Say it again.”
“Stiles.”
“Again.”
“𝘖𝘩 Stiles.”
“Yeah, you getting close? Do I fuck you that good? Say it.” He seethes, his dirty words rattling in my head. I’m breathless, the cold room now unbearably hot. “You fuck me so good, Sti.” I moan, the ball in the pit of my stomach tightening with every touch of his. His hand gripping my hip. His cock hitting that sweet spot inside me with every thrust. His thumb pressing to my clit.
“Yeah? You like that, baby.” I can’t take it anymore. “Stiles,” I moan, my limbs restless, I can’t stay still. “Tell me.” He says, leaning down over me to envelope my lips in a wet, searing kiss. I moan as he parts, “I’m gonna cum, Stiles.”
“Then do it.”
I obey his every word, my release washing over like a wave. My back arches into him, and Stiles buckles down, chasing his nearing high. I’m just about to tell him I can’t take it anymore when he cums, spilling into the condom. His brows furrowing and his mouth agape. He lets out the most beautiful sounds I’ve ever heard, I never want it to stop.
He pumps a few more times, riding out his high. “Oh, fuck.” He whispers, slowly pulling out of me. I moan as he does, partly in pleasure and partly in pain. I’m sore now, I can’t even imagine how sore I’ll be tomorrow.
Stiles gets up from the bed, he quickly discards the condoms and pulls his boxers on. He pads to the bathroom, and I lay there for a minute not sure of what to do. I close my legs and watch as he comes back with a damp rag.
He comes back to me, kneeling on the bed in front of my closed legs. “Open.” He says, placing a hand on my knee to pry them open once more. He cleans me up, and I’m completely and utterly in shock. Did he really just do that? What have I been missing out on?
When he’s does, I sit up so our faces meet, and I peck his kiss swollen lips. “Thank you.” I whisper, and he hums in response, kissing me once more.
As he goes to the bathroom to put the rag away, I gather my scattered clothes from the floor, and I’m slipping them on as he comes back, hopping back into the bed.
It’s at this point that I’m not really sure what to expect now. Are we never gonna talk about this again? Are we just gonna hate each other and fuck on the side? I’m nervous to get back in bed with him.
“Come here.” Stiles mumbles, laying his arm out for me. I crawl into bed, snuggling into him. “Do we still hate each other?” I whisper. He says nothing, reaching om his other arm over to his nightstand.
“Here.” He says, handing me his phone charger.
!𝘽𝙊𝙉𝙐𝙎!
“Jesus Stiles, turn it off.” I grumble, his alarm blaring in my ears. Stiles is dead asleep, how he’s able to sleep through his excruciating alarm? No idea.
I reach over him to grab his phone, hitting the snooze button. But before I put it down I see a text from none other than Scott, at 12:31 AM.
𝙎𝙘𝙤𝙩𝙩 𝙈𝙘𝘾𝙖𝙡𝙡: 𝙔𝙤𝙪 𝙤𝙬𝙚 𝙢𝙚 𝙛𝙞𝙫𝙚 𝙗𝙪𝙘𝙠𝙨
𝟏/𝟐𝟕/𝟐𝟒
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marxo-fm · 8 months
Text
Sessions
Part One. Part ii and Sessions playlist is out now.
Summary: You’re König’s therapist, and he is utterly and dangerously obsessed with you. He will do anything and everything to make you his.
Warnings: Adult themes and language, plot with smut, smut smut smut, thigh riding (omg this is crazy) stalkerish!König, toxic!König, innocent!reader, virgin!reader, König is filthy…FILTHY, praising.
Words: 4.2K
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A/N: I’ve played COD before but just a little so I have no clue about it all (LMAO) but anyways my fyp is invaded with König and Ghost, not complaining, so I decided to write a little something. I heard he’s unstable (?) and there’s a bunch of fics where he has a therapist so I was like…lemme write something like this. I will give credits to writers who’ve inspired me once I find their accounts because I lost them smh. So don’t thank me for this, thank them. Also thanks to Brittany Broski, my rightful leader, for talking about König on the Broski Report Podcast. Made me want to write him some more tbh. ALSO THE GIF??? So scary in the hottest way.
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It’s been awhile since König’s last therapy session with you, and it’s been driving him crazier by the minute. He realized now, just how much he wants you, how much he desperately needs you.
——
Weeks turned into days, then hours, minutes, and then seconds. Every tick of the clock had König going mental. The thought of not spending those seconds with you drove him mad and drove him with such urgency to have you by him. To be inside of you, at that.
Fists clenched then unclenched, König couldn't stand it any longer. Desperation ran in his veins like a predator watching their prey. He wanted nothing else but to see what you were up to, and visiting your home, was just the solution to his thoughts and needs.
(…)
It's been a few weeks since your appointment with König, and you're growing concerned. You look at the empty chair in your office, that's been sitting lonely for quite a few weeks. He hasn't called or informed you on why he's been absent, and you're sure he never will
In all honesty, you have no clue why you're so upset about it. Upset about a client who's been absent for weeks too much to count. Maybe it's because you can't help him anymore, well—not anymore, he's still your client. But the mere fact that he's not there to tell you about his problems and stories, or how his day was, bothered you.
Sure, he has things to do. So much more important than meeting up with your therapist right? Surely not, you want to help König to the best of your ability—but he made it so difficult.
You get a phone call that snaps you out of your haze, you pick it up. Only to hear a client of yours on the phone bringing their appointment up, which is today. "Yes! Today at six, correct." You assured, sitting down promptly on your office chair. You're glad you have clients today, something that'll keep you busy.
(…)
König is sitting outside in his car in the rain. The pattering of the rain took over his rather obsessive thoughts. Not only was he in the car alone, but he was right outside your home.
He peeks through your window, seeing only a dim light through the blinds of your house. His chest rose as he took a deep breath, chuckling to himself about how insane this all is. Going all out for your therapist? Never would he have thought to be doing such thing, but he can't help his desires.
He sighs, he gets the urge to exit his car and step foot inside your house and it made him feel dizzy. The thought of just stepping foot inside your property and seeing the items, the furniture—and so forth—that belonged to you. Something you've chosen out and purchased for yourself, with love. Now that, drove him on edge.
He finally exits his car, slamming it shut behind him. The rain drops hit his huge frame and he takes bigger steps to the front of your house. Eager to see the place you call home. The place you eat, sleep, and breathe in. It's all insane, he thought, but he's König. Insanity doesn't faze him.
"Fucking hell, the fuck am I doing?" He chuckled to himself as he somehow manipulated his way into your house. His wet boots are off and placed on the rug that says, "welcome" which is funny in this situation.
He looks around the well kept home, the dimly lit kitchen and living room, as well as the deliciously scented candle that's lit in the living room. Smells like you, coconut and bliss. He takes it in, like the maniac he is.
There was nothing really intriguing to the eye in your home, it's simple and basic, but still very homey. You had your favorite comics on the tv table and the tv was obviously shut off, books were stacked against the bookshelf and a few magazines were on the tables. You love to read, guess that's new information for König to keep to himself.
His big frame hovers over your iPad, without hesitation, he opened it. There wasn't a passcode, just a simple press of the home button and he was in, it wasn't like you had anything to hide and König found amusement in that. König chuckled, there was simply nothing on the iPad besides dates on your calendars that showed you have appointments throughout the month.
"Busy little one, aren't you, Mein Schatz?" He breathed through his mask, though he took it off for the time being, there was no reason to hide himself through a mask when home alone.
He misses you, and it's getting more painful not having you there with him, in your home. He's wondering what you're up to now, and how much time he has left before that lock of your front door turns.
It's a bad idea, he's already seen everything he wanted to see, and now it's time to leave.
Quickly, he puts his wet boots back on and turns the door knob slowly. He looks back at your place and then smiles, this surely won't be the last time he's inside. And he'll make sure it'll be the both of you inside the home at the same time.
(…)
"Anything else you'd like to share, Ghost?" You question Ghost, his eyes telling you so much he hasn't said yet, and you doubt he'll tell you more. You wish he'd say more though, but you're actually proud of today’s session. He shared more than the other sessions, that's always a huge milestone.
"No." He said sternly, his British accent thick and his voice gravely. "Okay great. I'll see you next week then?" He cleared his throat and walks to the door, "busy."
"So when are you able to?" You wonder, "I'll call when I can." He opens the door from your office and leaves. You sigh, at least you tried to the best of your abilities. You close your notebook shut, putting the notebook back into your drawer as you finally set the pen down after.
So, where we're you again? Ah, it's time to go home. Finally.
Well—not just yet. As you're getting your things ready to leave, you hear your office phone ring. Your brows furrowed in confusion as to who's calling this late, all sessions are...closed.
"Hello?" You question, hearing heavy breathing over the phone—you shudder. "Schatz, it's me." The German accent rolled off the man's tongue over the phone, your heart dropped in response. König.
"K-König?" You stuttered, in disbelief at the sudden call. "Mhm, I'm calling to apologize for not coming to our sessions but if I'm being honest...I want to have a session soon this week." He explained over the phone, your brows scrunched.
You're free this week, no sessions left, well one session now. It surprised you that König chose to call you so late over an appointment, but it didn't bother you, just—stunned you. "Of course, when would you like-" König interrupts you suddenly, "tomorrow." He breathed, his voice lower than usual. Laced with huskiness and exhaustion, and need.
Tomorrow? You can't turn that down, because you know that if you do, he won't come to another session for a long time—you feared. You clear your voice over the line, heart beating faster by the second and you're not sure as to why. Must be the sudden urge to come to a session, or maybe because he wants it soon. It's not like you're busy tomorrow or anything, but the mere fact that you'll see König after God knows how long made you nervous.
Something must be wrong, you're sure of it.
"Sure! Tomorrow at two, promise me you'll be there?" He never breaks promises, not with you he doesn't. He agrees over the phone, and the date is officially set. Grabbing your pen you just placed down, you take your König's personal journal and write the date down for tomorrow.
(…)
He was trying to stay composed but it's getting hard. His desires have become more stronger by the minute, and he wanted nothing more than to have you by him.
He ended the call, smirking under the mask after finally hearing your soft voice over the phone. You invaded his mind like a virus he's unable to get rid of, but in all honesty he doesn't want to get rid of it. He would stare at pictures of you all day, and the thought that bothers him the most—the one that boils his blood—is knowing that you have sessions with other men that's not him. Most of them he despises, the other ones he's not really worried about, since well—they're his friends.
It's almost sickening how much he wants you, how much he deeply needs you. Now, König sits on his bed. Mask off and so is his shirt. Revealing nothing but his well crafted muscles and his mind going hundreds of miles per hour of just you.
And to fix that "issue" he takes his rough right hand and puts it underneath his sweats, and then under the hem of his boxers. Finally, he grabs his thick cock tightly and leans his head back. Nothing but images of you holding his dick for him instead, and that just about does it for him. Quickly, he starts to slowly stroke up and down, groans fill the silent room. His strong hand grips the sheets of his bed, the delicate fabric became victim to his touch.
The rings in his ear became louder as he swiped his thumb over his tip that was already leaking, everything around König became a blur as he thought of you continuously. He's never been this obsessed with someone until he met you. He gripped onto his dick harder and his body starts to burn with flames too powerful to put out—and his heart beats quicker.
He's closer to his high than ever, throwing his head back due to the aching pleasure that consumed him. His eyes look at the ceiling, all that hunts his mind is you. You hunt him every second of his day, even when it's König hunting for you. His insides began tightening, the way his cock began to throb in his hand and how his precum brushes against his calloused fingers when his hands move to his sensitive area.
He lets out a final grunt as he looks at the mess he made in his lap, wishing you were there to clean it all up. His orgasm hit him harder than ever, and his breath is shaky. Stunned at how good you made him feel, it wasn't him that made himself feel good, no—it was you. All of it.
He tensed at first, letting rope after rope of his come dirty his abs and sheets. "Look at what you fucking do to me, Liebe." He whispered, beads of sweat roll off his forehead.
(…)
The next day passed, the day König booked his session to see you. Of course he wanted to talk to you about what's going on, but he mostly made the appointment to see you. It's been a long long time. He puts on his uniform and mask, getting all ready for his missions and well—seeing you.
——
You hear a knock. A knock so familiar and it wasn't just like any other knocks from your clients. König had a habit of knocking exactly four times, and it's a habit he has with you. You shout, "welcome in!" as you take your notebook and pen out. You put your glasses on and present yourself professionally.
König's huge frame stands before you, and you gasped. It's been so long since you've last seen him, you’re now practically strangers. "König! You're here." You proclaimed, welcoming him with a simple hand motion to the chair. "Hello, Mein Schatz." He greets, his voice husky. He looks at you through his eyes, investigating the way you sit professionally and have everything well kept and neat. It almost bothered him, in a good way.
You broke the tension with a question, “anything new?” He continued taking a good look at you, hungrily. It doesn’t show through his mask, but his eyes tells you everything you need to know.
You cleared your throat, waiting for König’s response. “I don’t like the new addition to the missions.” He said sternly, his fists clench and you could tell that bothered him to the extreme. “Why is that? Do you perhaps think they’re weak and unnecessary?” You queried.
He shifts in his spot, “Ja, I don’t like unnecessary addictions. I find it a nuisance.”
“Is it because you prefer having the men you’re familiar with more.. than the new men looking to work the same missions as you?” He prompts his elbows on his knees, leaning closer to the conversation. He is clearly interested in answering. “Yes. Exactly. We don’t need anymore men, we have quite enough of them.” His German accent is thicker, deeper. Cutting through like knife to butter. Your pen wrote down his answers as well as your thoughts in the notebook.
He watched you like a hawk, looking at you closely while you do your job. “Is there anything else, König?” You wonder, his dull eyes sparkled when he hears you say his name. “Hm,” he voiced, “you.”
Your brows furrow at his answer, you cross your legs and place your pen down. Unsure of what he means, and well of course, the therapist you are, you think maybe he has something he needs to say about you. “Did I do something wrong?” You stammered, unable to look him in his piercing gaze.
He chuckled, and you think maybe you embarrassed yourself with such question. “No, Mein Schatz, I need you.” He put forth. Your stomach drops at his answer, crimson red swipes across your cheek and you feel as though you’re going to pass out.
Never in a million years would you have thought to hear König admitting to the fact that he needs you. It stunned you in all honesty.
“I can’t seem to stop thinking about you, Ich werde verrückt.” He points his index finger to his head, “what does that mean?” You question. The part where he spoke in German, you wonder what he means.
He stood up, and you scooted your chair back in response. “It means I’m going crazy, Liebe, you drive me crazy.” König voiced.
You mistook his answer, mistook it thinking that you made him crazy in the worst way possible. “I-I’m sorry, we can gladly stop our sessio-“ he interrupts you, and it’s not the first time.
“Ts ts, I don’t want to. I meant,” he paused, then began, “you drive me crazy with need.” He explained.
You never knew you made him feel that way, and you look around the office just thinking about how unprofessional this all is. “König, when would you like your next session?” You dismissed what he said earlier, you just need to recollect yourself. Your feelings, thoughts and emotions. He just looks at you, quietly.
You walk to the door, and he walks behind you. Each step he took was heavy—and loud, sending shudders throughout your body. He stood behind you, the heat radiating from his body and on to yours.
His right arm reaches out for the doorknob and your heart dropped into a million pieces. God, he knew how to make anyone nervous.
He opens the door for you, and he finds himself out first, but before he does, he says something. “Next week, Friday.” He states, and then walks out of your office.
You take deep breaths, like you’ve been choked and you’ve lost all oxygen. You’ve realized now, just how much König’s little actions made you feel hundreds of butterflies fluttering in your stomach.
(…)
König steps foot inside your office. It’s Friday, and what happened the last session felt like it happened yesterday. His mind is all you, it’s all its ever been. Now he will use this opportunity to his dismay. “Hello, König.” You greet professionally, seated on your black chair.
König takes a careful look at you, he misses you immensely although it’s been a week. He noticed your outfit. Your tight black skirt that hugged your curves perfectly, and your white button up accentuating your breasts. He could open your legs wide right then and there and devour you like he hasn’t eaten in days, he’s drooling at the thought.
You turn to speak, and his entire attention shifts to your plump lips. And of course, König’s mind is filled with dirty thoughts. Too lewd to think out loud.
“Is there anything in particular that you would like to discuss today?” Your soft voice made his ears ring, and he couldn’t help the bulge forming in his pants. König wanted to admit that you’ve been on his mind, but he held himself back and contained it. “I’ve just been stressed.” He admits, and it’s true. All the mission stuff had him drained by the second.
“Oh? And why is that?” You questioned, he manspreads on your couch in the office, using the space to sit comfortably. His long legs and big thighs were spread apart, making it a perfect seat for you to sit on, is what he’s thinking. You gulp at the sight in front of you, and he takes his time with his answer.
“I don’t know, honestly. There’s just something new everyday.” He groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose in frustration.
You get up from your seat and prompt yourself next to him. His knees touching yours, and your actions shocked König—just a tad. That’s a lie, it shocked him, a lot.
He wanted to fulfill his fantasies right there, he had you in his sight and reach, but again—containing himself. “Talk to me, König.” You comfort, rubbing small circles on his hand. The action caused him to flinch, but he doesn’t say anything—yet.
After a few seconds, he answers, “I got into a fight with a lieutenant. I’d rather save that for another session.” Groaned König. “Okay, if that makes you comfortable.” You drawl, “how about coming to three sessions in a row? When would you like your next appointment?” You made sure to ask if there was anything else, but to your surprise—there wasn’t.
“Today.” He states sternly, you’re confused. “It’s already today, König?” You trailed off, dissociating at his answer. “I know, Liebe, I want our session to begin today.”
“But we’ve already finished our session for today.” You argued, all that König had contained was finally let out. He grabs his hand and wraps it around your throat, his actions made you let out a loud gasp, and with that—König lifts his mask up and kisses you.
You instinctively kiss him back, aware of how unprofessional this all is, but oddly enough—you didn’t really care.
König groans against your hot mouth, sending vibrations down your entire body. König felt like he was in a dream, finally kissing you didn’t feel real, you tasted too good to be real. He finally has you in his reach, and in his mouth. Your scent overtook his senses, and it drove him right over the edge. He could fall off and die happily, knowing he’s finally tasted you.
You deepen the kiss, and he bit your bottom lip in return, alerting you to open your mouth wider and let him in. He wants to devour you whole and you just let it happen. His tongue finds yours, and there you both are, kissing each other so roughly. His grip on your neck tightens just a little, not too hard, still allowing you to breathe. Though the kiss had you suffocating already.
More, more, more. Is what König says to himself in his mind, but you let go of the kiss. String of saliva leaves his mouth as you let go. Oxygen had left your body entirely, and you’re there gasping for air. You wouldn’t be surprised to see if your lips had been bruised from the rough and deep kiss. You’ve never been kissed like that before, or ever.
The both of you pant, you can’t believe what just happened. You’ve fully realized what he meant earlier, insisting he has another session. This is the session, and you don’t think it’s going to end soon. “Come here.” He ordered, patting his thigh. Your eyes dart to his big thighs, thighs that could crush you if he wanted to.
You did as he said, sitting right down on his right leg, in your point of view—to your left. He holds your waist tightly, balancing you so you don’t fall. Though you’re already holding onto his broad shoulders for support. “Why do you have me like this?” You question, flustered. König loves to see it, to see you flustered even though you never tried to admit it. He had that power.
“Liebe, do you know just how much I crave you? How much I’ve wanted to see you like this…?” he began, “you’re going to do as I say, right?” He asked lowly. You nod, heat rushing throughout your entire body from his needy words. You never knew how much he needed you, and it actually hit you. König, out of all people.
Secretly, you loved that. His desperation made you admire him, it must’ve been so difficult to contain such desires and feelings. Unaware of what he’ll say or do next, you wait. Patiently.
“Ride me, Mein Schatz.” Your mouth gaped open at his words, his fingers dug deep into your skirt, so deep you’re afraid it’ll leave a bruise. “K-König, what?” In disbelief, you stay still. You’ve never done anything of the sort, for fucks sake, you’re a virgin. König doesn’t know that—yet. Though you plan on telling him. And you plan on telling him now.
“I’ve never done this before, I’m a virgin, König.” You murmured lowly, but still loud enough for him to hear. “Oh, meine Prinzessin,” he looks at you like some prized treasure you are. His prized treasure that he wanted to display for the world to see. “Do you want to do this?” He consented, you look at him with eyelids so heavy.
You’re more than sure you want to do this with him, virginity isn’t a game, and you knew that. He knew that too. But you want to give it to König and you’ve already confirmed it before saying anything.
“I…I do.” You cup his face, hidden back underneath his mask. “I can’t go on if you’re not sure, liebe, tell me—do you want to do this?” He repeats his question, and you want to shout at his face the word yes, but you remain calm. “I really do, König. Show me the real you.”
“Want me to show you?” His accent is stronger laced with hunger, pulling you closer to him. He got the affirmation he needed, and you nod in assurance. He grabs your hips at once, and slowly moves them back and forth. Your brows furrow at the feeling of your soaked panties grinding against his rough combat pants. The new feeling had you addicted and König loves to see you fall apart little by little.
His cock ached and pressed harder against his pants as your hands grip onto his broad shoulder, tighter. The friction from his pants and your grinding made you let out a moan you didn’t know you were capable of making. A moan König could only hear in his head, except it became reality, and König was trapped in a haze. He saw the way your face contorted in pleasure, the way your lips pout as he helped you ride it out.
“So beautiful.” He huffs, pulling you back and forth even faster. You could feel your stomach twist into knots, alerting you that your orgasm is near, but riding against his thigh wasn’t enough. You needed more. “K-König…please.” You whimpered out, he tilts his head, getting the hint.
“Please what? Mein Schatz?” It felt like he was teasing you, but maybe he just needs to know what you’re saying please for. “Touch me.” You demand, desperately needing his rough and big fingers to touch you. “Ohhh darling, you don’t have to ask me twice.” He does just as you asked, rubbing slow circles with the pad of his thumb on your clothed cunt. He smiled under his mask at how wet you are.
The bundle of nerves formed tightly, forming at the very pit of your stomach. Flames ran through your veins and your body burned with lust. You found it difficult to hold his gaze as your orgasm is nearing. “You’re too good to me, liebe, you’re doing so good.” He praised, his eyes focused on your motions and he could just come at the sight of that. “K-König! I’m going to-“ he interrupts you, grabbing your hips with both of his hands and moves you back and forth impossibly faster.
“Come, schön, be a good fucking girl for me and let it out. I know you can do it.” He grunts, talking you through it. His praising and words of encouragement did just enough for you to reach your high. It felt like fireworks were exploding in your stomach, and your legs shook. It was all too much to bare, and you still rode it out.
“Attagirl, wasn’t so hard now was it, meine Liebe?” He appeals, holding your waist still as you tried to regain every last bit of dignity left with each inhale and exhale. “You think we’re done yet? Oh love, we’re just getting started.”
——
NOTE: This is just part 1 peeps, I honestly thought it was getting a bit too long (imo) so I thought—hey—why not turn this into a mini series? Hehe. Stay tuned for part 2, coming very soon. Also, if you’d like to be in my tag list, it’d be my pleasure. Just let me know in the comments. (Btw, English is definitely not my first language…so if there are any grammatical errors and mistakes, please let me know in the comments so I can fix them.)
:)
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miniwheat77 · 1 year
Text
Sizes. (141+Alejandro x Reader.)
!CW! NSFW, gang bang, rough sex, double penetration, pretty much porn without plot, read at your own risk
Fem!Reader
(Summary): 141 decides to have reader see who's dick is the biggest after a night of drinking.
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A laugh leaves your lips as Gaz jokes with you. He’s been chatting you up for a while. A mission went a little south, everyone had been battered and bruised but everyone made it out alive. Which is the important part.
Price decided to let everyone have a couple days to themselves to heal and feel better, which meant everyone gathered up every bit of alcohol they could find and met in the lunch room to drink.
It had been a few hours and everyone was drunk. Glossy eyes, red cheeks. Lazy smiles. Everyone talked and laughed together. You and Gaz were listening in on a conversation Soap and Ghost were having, a debate. On which of them had the biggest dick.
You sent Gaz an awkward laugh. “What the hell are you two on about?” He interrupts their conversation. “We’re talking about who has the biggest dick. I think it’s me.” Soap crosses his arms. Gaz smirks. “Mmm. I think you’re wrong. I think it’s me.”
By now, everyone’s attention had been grasped. “Let’s make a bet then. Who has the biggest dick?”
“Yeah, but how are we going to know?”
"Uhhhhh. Y/N! Y/N can be the middle man, ah? How does that sound?" Soap says. “Um. Excuse me?” You laugh. Looking up from your drink.
"We wanna know who has the biggest dick between all of us." Your eyes widen. "Yeah. Me too.” Price says, walking toward the table. “Christ in heaven, you’re all just a bunch of teenage boys in adult male bodies.” You cover your face. “Come on Y/N. Help us out.” You roll your eyes. “Fine.”
------
"Alright. So.. In order. I don't know, do you want details?" You ask. "Sure." Alejandro asks.
"Alright, Ghost won by a landslide. I'm just gonna say that now. As for the rest of you. Soap and Price have almost the exact same size, Price has a little more girth on Soap, but other than that.. Alejandro and Gaz are pretty close too, but where they lack in girth they pick up in length so. I don't know. All of you are 6 inches and above."
"Soft?" Gaz asks.
"There's a woman playing with our dicks, Gaz. Full confidence I'm above 6 with a semi." Soap laughs. You roll your eyes. "Anything else you need me for? Or can I go wash my eyes out with bleach?” You laugh. All eyes are on you, a break of awkward silence. “I’m gonna take that as a no.” You laugh awkwardly, pushing passed Soap.
"Wait." Soap grasps hold of your arm. "Need ya for one more thing." He smiles, pulling you back. Each of them moving toward you, forming a circle around you. "Uh.. What is going on?" You ask. "Trying to give you a couple more sins to wash off, señiorita." Alejandro smiles. "What?" You look completely confused.
Soap pulls you into him, breathing up against your ear. "We already know what we need to know. Just want to know, which of us can make you cum the hardest.” He breathes. “I-I” you blush. “Shhh. Relax sweetheart.” He chuckles. “You’re so tense.” He breathes out, nose brushing up against you cheek. “I.. I don’t think I understand.” You breath. He pushes you back up against the table behind you, lifting you up onto it. “We’ve talked about it. A lot.” Alejandro smiles, brushing his hand up your thigh. Soap still has his hands on you. They’re all staring at you like a pack of wolves, ready to devour their prey. “I just don’t think this is a good idea,” you try to stand up but Soap pushes you back. “Relax. Nothing to be nervous about.”
“Here.” Price passes you a cup. It’s full of some kind of liquor. “It’ll help.”
Your chest raises and falls, nervousness settling into your chest. All of their eyes are on you. You stare between the cup of liquor and them. This was their way of asking for consent. If you take the cup, they’re going to ruin you.
Who are you to ruin their fun?
You take it from his hand and tip back the entire cup of liquor in a few huge gulps, flinching. Each of them getting an evil grin on their lips.
Soap helps you undress, grasping the hem of your shirt and raising it up over your head. He watches the way you start to relax into his touch, the liquor you had helping ease up your nervousness. “Lay back.” He mumbles, you obey immediately, something he takes a liking to right away. He grasps your pants, unbuttoning them and pulling them down your legs, panties going down along with them. You’re completely exposed to them, and you can hear their bodies moving around, belts coming off, clothing moving against clothing as they undress themselves around you. “Gonna ruin you, Cariño.” Alejandro mumbles, he’d moved around the other side of the table, his face near your head. Gaz stood to your left, still undressing himself. Ghost to your right, Soap between your legs. The only person you didn’t see was Captain Price, maybe he’d changed his mind. Soap slides into you unexpectedly and a gasp leaves your lips, but gets muffled as Alejandro slides himself into your mouth. You moan around his shaft as Soap starts to hammer his hips into yours. Gaz moves toward you, lifting up your hand to place it on his cock. Ghost doing the same to your other side.
For a few minutes, the only thing you hear are moans and groans, coming from each of them. They’re so touch starved that even just small brushes against you have them groaning out. Ghosts head is tipped back as you move your hand fast against him, he’s holding his shirt up over his stomach, watching the way you pleased him. Gaz is doing the same on your other side. “Fuckin hell.” Soap gasps, holding your thighs up as he fucked his himself into you. “You’re dripping around me sweetheart. So perfect.” He gasps, rubbing the pad of his thumb over your clit as you squirmed around him.
Alejandro is still fucking himself into your mouth, you’re sucking back as hard as you can and his thighs are shaking, trying desperately to hold himself together. “Little slut is good at this ah?” He smirks. Hand moving down to cup your breast, giving it a small squeeze. “Getting me close already, you want me to fill this mouth?” He breathes. You moan around him and he smiles, gripping into the table. You could feel the table shaking violently underneath you at Soap’s hard thrusts. He’s fucking into you steadily, and you can feel your first orgasm growing in the pit of your stomach. You’re wrapped so tight around Soap, pulling him closer to the edge with each thrust he took. “Shit..” he moans out, eyes screwing shut. Alejandro is holding a death grip in your hair, holding your head steady as he fucks your throat. The back of your throat would be bruised from his assault, but the only thing you could seem to thing about was Soap, pushing you closer and closer to the edge.
You’re balancing on a tight rope, and right as you’re about to fall off, Soap moans out, sliding out of you and pumping his cock. Watching you be used like this has him about to cum already. He pumps his hand up his cock quickly, groaning out loud as he finishes up your stomach and chest. You’re whimpering around Alejandro, at the emptiness you feel. Desperate to feel it again. Gaz is quick to swap him places, sliding himself into your tight hole. You moan around Alejandro again, eyes rolling back as Gaz bottoms out immediately, hips snapping into yours. Soap leans down to latch his mouth onto one of your nipples. Alejandro’s hips halt and he holds you down on him, your skin turning red as your air was cut off. He finishes down your throat, cock throbbing hard and you swallow it down quickly. A gasp leaving your lips as he pulls out of your mouth.
You’re panting, taking in breaths like the air is limited. He leans down, looking down to see Gaz fucking you. You’ve still got a tight grip on Ghosts dick, pumping him hard and fast as you’re getting filled. You try not to move too quickly, keeping your hand at a steady pace, Ghost can’t help but admire how you pace yourself even under this amount of pressure. He smiles down at you. “Fuck she’s tight.” Gaz laughs. Tilting his head back. “Yeah she is.” Soap whimpers, smiling against your skin. His lips have attacked you, leaving love bites all over your chest, sucking at your nipple until you squirmed. Alejandro is still watching Gaz fuck into you, lips near your ear as he mumbles into your ear. How good of a girl you are, letting them fuck you like this. Use you like the toy you are.
“I’m gonna cum!” You cry out, and they smile at your sudden outburst. Soap leans down, rubbing his fingers fast over your sensitive nub until you’re crying out, orgasm hitting you like a massive tidal wave. A cry leaves your lips, drawing laughs out of each of them. “That’s it. Milk my fucking cock like that. Throbbing so hard around me.” Gaz gasps. Ghost swaps Alejandro, sliding his dick into your mouth. You were nervous for when he was going to fuck you. He was massive and he’d stretch you more than anyone else. Your lips were being stretched, you could feel them splitting and cracking around the sheer size of him. He fucked himself into your throat and kept you focused on him. Ghost plays with your other breast, Soap still assaulting your other with his lips. He pinches your nipple hard, pulling a cry from your lips, smiling as it gets muffled around him. “Such a good girl.”
Your hand is working up Soap and Alejandro’s shafts, moving at a steady pace. They’re both so sensitive but enjoying the overstimulation from you. You’re covered in cum and Lube, hands had been drenched at some point. Their cocks were slick with it as you pumped them fast, squeezing with the perfect amount of tightness. Dog tags and belts rattled throughout the room. Dangling in front of you. The light was bright, dizzy from being drunk, eyes watery and blurry from being fucked so good. Gaz slides out of you, hand working the same as Soap had, until he finishes on your chest with a groan. Letting himself go. He backs away and disappears from the table, but you don’t notice. Ghost still filling your mouth full, pushing you to your limits. Alejandro is next, hands gliding up your thighs. Your pussy is pink from getting fucked, throbbing and dripping and he smiles, grasping his cock in his hand. He lines himself up with your entrance, tip pushing your folds apart as he slides in. “Fuck.. she is tight.” He growls. Saving no time to fuck himself into you. He holds your thighs with his arms, squeezing them maybe a little too hard as he pounds into you. You moan around Ghost, hand still stroking Soap. “Fucking hell you are sweet.” Ghost groans. “So fucking.. perfect, such a filthy mess.” He gasps out.
Alejandro feels a little pathetic. Maybe it’s how sensitive you’ve made him, but his high is approaching quickly. He tries to slow his hips, your free hand clutches the table in a death grip, and your hips lurch into Alejandro. “Gonna cum again sweetheart?” He smirks. Ghost keeps your mouth full, but your body shakes violently as Alejandro fucks you. “Fuck.. your tightening around me has me so close.” Alejandro groans out, pulling out of you, and just like the others, finishing in your chest, groaning out, hand getting covered in his own cum. Ghost slides himself from your mouth, Soap switching him places. You hear his heavy footsteps moving to your feet and you pant heavily. Your raise yourself up onto your elbows, watching him pump his cock, moving to your entrance. “Shhh. Relax.” Soap mumbles into your ear. “You can take it sweetheart. Promise.” He kisses your cheek, kissing your jawline and down your neck, sucking and biting at the skin there. You feel the tip of ghosts cock start to stretch you and you gasp out, a cry leaving your lips. “Ah, I can’t- I can’t take it!” You cry. “Shhh.. Relax.” Soap tries to soothe you, running his hand over your hair. “You can. You can take it, and you will. Just relax.” Ghost pushes deeper and you lay flat on the table, clutching at the sides. Tears filling your eyes as he filled you. You were fucked out and overstimulated. There wasn’t an inch of your body that wasn’t covered in sweat or cum. Your hair was damp with sweat, face beat red.
Soap could see the small blood vessels broken in your cheeks, little red spider lines covering them. Lips were split and slightly bloodied from being stretched. You were covered in love bites from him, all over your neck and chest. It was a sight for sore eyes. When Ghost bottoms out, he tears a cry from your throat, tears streaming steadily down your cheeks. “Yeah that’s a good girl, take him.” Soap mumbles into your ear. “Watch sweetheart.” He helps you prop yourself back up. “Watch him fuck you.” Soap reaches down across your chest, fingers pressing against your clit.
You’re unsure where Gaz and Alejandro have gone, probably to clean up and call it a night. You still seen no sign of Captain Price.
Soap rubs fast circles against your clit, Ghost hammering his hips into yours. “Such a pretty girl sweetheart.” Soap whispers into your ear, reassuring you and egging you on to take it further.
“So fucking tight.” Ghost groans out. Voice deep as he does. Your eyes stare down to where Ghosts massive cock disappears into you and you’re silent, body shaking each time he thrusts his hips into you. You’re right on the edge again and he can feel it by the way your push clenches tight around him, milking his cock. His eyes stare into yours, and you watch him stare at you, you can tell there’s an evil smile on his lips by the way his eyes are. “Those are some dangerous looks you’re giving me, princess.” Ghost laughs. “Looks like you wanna devour me.” You don’t say anything, don’t even move. Your eyes fixated on him as he pushes you closer and closer to your orgasm. Soap draws his hand back, but you stop him. “Damn.” He laughs nervously. “She’s really into this. Look at her.” Ghost chuckles. Your eyes screw shut. “Goddamn!” He yelps, eyes widening. You reach another orgasm, tightening and throbbing around Ghost. A mewl leaves your lips and Ghosts eyes roll back. Once he’s ridden our your high, you’re squirming from Soap rubbing at your clit. “Gotta stop, she’s gonna make me cum already.”
“Captain, you ready?” Soap pulls his hand away from you, and you whimper at the loss, Soap smiling. He returns himself, seeing Price tip back the rest of his whiskey, putting out his cigar.
He starts to undress himself and Soap returns his hand, rubbing fast circles on your clit again. “Can feel you throbbing around me. Gonna cum again, already?” Ghost looks down at you. You nod your head, cheeks still stained with tears. Your eyes roll back, resting your head on Soaps chest since he was bent down near you. “That’s it. That’s a good girl.” Soap smiles. A gasp leaves your lips and you take in another breath.
Ghost slides out of you after he’s ridden out your second orgasm, looking forward to the way you’ll have a 3rd around him. “Lay on your stomach.” Ghost says, grasping your arm. You do it immediately.
Soap passes Ghost the bottle of lube they’d gotten for this. He squeezes the bottle, getting maybe a little too much on his hand as he circles his finger over your puckering hole. “Relax.” Ghost says. You take a deep breath, looking to the side as he slides his finger into you. It’s an unfamiliar feeling, you hadn’t felt it before. You moan out as he draws his finger back, adding a second. You gasp out, clutching the table. “Oh fuck!” You cry out. “She’s ready, Captain.”
You hear heavy footsteps coming your way. “Can you stand sweetheart?” Price asks. Pulling you off of the table. Your knees buckle underneath you, and he laughs. He lifts you up, walking along with you until he reaches the chair in the corner of the room, set there in front of the large tv screen. Ghost sits down and Price helps you sit down onto him, straddling his hips, and he helps guide you back into him, a whimper leaving your lips. “I can’t take it-“ you shiver. “You can sweetheart.” Price smiles, slicking his cock up with lube. He’s standing behind you, Ghost is fucking his hips up into yours. “Just a little more sweetheart.” He reassured you, running his fingertips across your back to soothe you.
He presses his tip against your hole, your ass stretching out around him. Your body tremors as he pushes into you, crying out. When you finally feel his skin against your back, he’d slid in all of the way, your lips are parted, eyes glossed over. You’re in a different world of pleasure.
Ghost filling your pussy, Price filling your ass. You lift up on Ghost, testing the waters. Price slides back out of you, adding more Lube to slide easier.
You can’t focus. Can’t think straight. You’re panting, your skin is beat red. Your face is flushed and you can’t stop blushing. You straddle Ghosts hips and lower yourself onto him once again, feeling him stretch you out. “Fuckin’ hell you’re a minx.” Price breathes out from behind you, a gasp leaving your lips as you feel his cock brushing against your back. Ghost adjusted himself on the chair and you felt Price lining up with your ass again, leaning into the chair from behind you. You felt him slide into you, stretching you even further. The fullness you felt had your eyes watering. It hurt just a little bit as he stretched you out but the burn and feeling of fullness numbed you. You were fucked out already, unsure of how you could push your body to such limitations. You wanted them to use you just as they were, wanted to be a toy for them to use as they please. As they both began to thrust into you, you couldn’t keep quiet. Strings of moans and pleas left your lips like a poem. Price lifts your chin, forcing you to look at him. “You’ll be a good girl, yeah?” He bites his bottom lip. “Yes s-sir.” You can barely get it out. “That’s it.” He smirks. Ghost grasps a handful of your hair, pulling you up, his warm breath against your ear. “You’re our toy, ours to use and fuck as we please.” He growls. The way they stretched you, pushing against each part of you that you never knew could feel so good. “Just one more time sweetheart. Cum for us one more time.” Price mumbles.
“I can’t-“ you cry. “It’s too much!”
A deep chuckle comes from Price’s mouth. “You can sweetheart. Just one more.” He mumbles against your ear, moaning at the way you tightened around him. “Such a good girl, letting us fuck you like this. We’re going to give it to you sweetheart, gonna make you cum so hard.” Price mumbles into your ear. Ghost has his head tilted back, resting on the couch. Hands on your thighs. Price has a tight grip on your hips. Steady thrusts into you as ghosts thrusts up into you. The both of them overstimulating you. “So tight around me again. You’re close hm?” Ghost runs a hand through your hair. “Cum on my cock, you can do it.”
A sob tears it’s way out of your throat when you reach another orgasm, body shaking violently when you do. Your knees give out, but Ghost holds you up, still fucking himself into you. You’re crying, tears streaming from your eyes again. Body shaking with sobs, so overstimulated you felt like you were going to explode. “S’okay sweetheart. Do you want us to stop?” Price moves your hair from your faces. “No-“ you cry. Price smiles. “Such a good girl.” He mumbles, hips still hammering into yours. “We’re gonna fill you full sweetheart. Gonna fill this tight ass.” Price groans out. “Fuck- fuck I’m going to cum.” Ghost groans out. Hips thrusting up into you harder and faster, holding you up since you were too weak. When he finally cums, he moans out. You expected him to pull out but he doesn’t. He lowers you onto him, letting you rest your legs onto the couch as his cock throbs with each spurt of his cum that fills you until you’re dripping back out around his thick cock. The groan he lets out is sexy, your eyes rolling back as you hear it.
Price tilts his head back, cock twitching inside of you as he reaches his high too. Throbbing hard as he finishes, his cum doing the same. Spilling back out of you as he cums. He gives you a minute before he slides out of you, watching his cum spill back out of you. Ghost lifts you off of him. Price buttons his pants back up, lifting you up so that Ghost can clean himself up.
Price carries you back into your room. Your skin is flushed and abused. Pussy throbbing. You have bruises on your thighs and hips from their grips on you. Lips split and swollen. A sight for sore eyes. “Did such a good job for us dove.” Price mumbles.
“Such a good job.”
———————
I hope you guys enjoyed this, I’ll be helping dig my grave for this later XD
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mactavishsgfandwife · 2 months
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Dad!Simon Taking Your Daughter to the Optician’s (Fluff)
another random one but OMG imagine your daughter had needed those adorable baby glasses and simon took her to the optician to buy a pair 😭 like awwwwweewwwwwwwwe purest domestic fluff ever, not proofread
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He pulls her tiny, pink raincoat off of the coat hangers by the door, along with his own black bomber jacket that he holds under one arm, and he tenderly leans down to zip up her little jacket - the one with cutesy rubber ducks embroidered at the cuffs. Most people wouldn’t immediately assume them to be father and daughter. This huge, intimidating military man with sunglasses on in early Spring to hide his eyes and a small silver dog tag dangling down around his neck, dwarfed by his broad shoulders - and reaching her hand up to hold his, babbling something unintelligible about rocks, a little girl. Her hair was carefully tied into bunches - Simon had tried to do it himself but he somehow managed to miss out half of her hair, so he lifted her up over his shoulder as if he were a firefighter and went to find you.
"Y’married a soldier, not a hairdresser," he grinned, a little bit embarrassed.
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At the optician’s, he guides his little girl around the room, inspecting the shelves of different glasses. He holds her soft, little hand in his big, tough one. For a moment, he is distracted by some informational poster on the wall, but a sudden exasperated gasp from the 3 year old at his feet pulls him back to reality right away. Looking down, he sees her chubby hands holding a pair of adult sunglasses to her eyes, a big grin on her face.
"Glasses! Want glasses, daddy!" she giggles, the specs falling wonky on her little button nose. Simon laughs softly, crouching down to get closer to his baby, his elbows resting on the denim of his jeans.
"You can have glasses, love… but those are too big for a littl’un like you," he leans in to kiss her soft forehead, and tries to place the sunglasses back, as her little fingers paw at them.
"What about these ones..?" he smiles, holding out a little pair of pink glasses, purple at the edges, with sweet little stars along the sides. That smile on his face is met by her exaggerated, pleading eyes and her little sad pout, still trying to reach her hands out to the sunglasses that her daddy had meanly placed on a high shelf. :(
Simon finally settles on buying the sunglasses ‘for himself’, rolling his eyes with a small chuckle as he helps fit those cute, purple glasses to his little girl’s face, turning her to look at herself in the mirror of the shop.
"Ahh!" she lets out a little, excited squeal, "I love it, Daddy!"
"You look so pretty, little girl," he smiles protectively, trying not to laugh as he sees her chubby, grinning face looking up at him behind those glasses that make her eyes seem twice as big as normal.
Her little mary-jane shoes run in circles around the shop, as she lets out little squeaks of joy and mumbles to herself - in the end, it takes your husband a whole 10 minutes to convince her to take them off so that he can buy them, and on the walk home she does her best to speed ahead of him (not that he would ever actually allow her out of his sight), shouting, "Faster, Daddy!", alternating between running away from him and walking slow at his side, panting from the running until he caved and carried her. She was just so excited and couldn’t wait to go home and show Mummy. <3
And she looks so cute when she excitedly rushes into the kitchen, screwing up her face and giggling as she tells you all about her new glasses, Simon leaning against the doorframe in the background and chuckling softly as he watches, unable to hide how much he loves his little family.
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i love him so much i’m crying tears thanks for reading lovelies! x
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catskets · 2 months
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A more in-depth guide for creating visual novels, especially in the horror, horror-romance, etc circles
Some of you have seen my previous, smaller post on crafting visual novels, especially in this little space of Tumblr that a lot of us have found themselves in. Since that post took off, I've wanted to create a longer guide to help touch on some points I've thought about for the past few months.
In case you've never heard of me, I'm Kat, also known as catsket. I have a Bachelor of Fine Arts in Game Design. I've been making games for nearly 5 years, and I've been doing visual novels more "professionally" for 2. You may know me for Art Without Blood, 10:16, God is in the Radio, or Fatal Focus. I'm here to help you make your first visual novel.
Please note that my advice does not fit everyone, and you may disagree with what I say. That's okay! It doesn't work for all. That's why there's thousands of resources out there.
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FOR THOSE OF YOU WHO HAVE NEVER MADE A GAME
So, you have an idea for a huge visual novel. Horror, a shady and obsessive love interest, a little bit of woo-hooing. 100k words. Maybe a million. What is this, the 07th Expansion?
I notice a lot of people getting into visual novels are artists first. That's okay! I wanted to do art for games before I realized how much I enjoyed writing. And even less of you have probably touched Visual Studio. Again, perfectly okay. We all start somewhere.
My number one piece of advice? Make shitty games.
What does that mean?! My recommendation to those who have never done games is to make a bunch of shitty ones. Think of a theme, or hell, even join a game jam, where you make a game that fits a theme in a short amount of time. Spend about a week on your game. Focus on making something polished. Polish your mechanics. Polish your output.
I recommend, if you can, to make at least 4-6, if not more, kind of shitty games before hopping into longer projects. Making a game is a skill, just like art, just like writing. And game development is combining ALL of these together into one big soup being stirred by a skeleton hand puppet. You'll get into the rhythm and see what works for you.
It also helps you learn, perhaps, the second most important thing here: do you even like making games? There are cases out there where people have created video games (not saying visual novels) just for clout. That's no fun for you, that's no fun for your players. And you might go through this process and find that you don't like making games. That's completely okay! It's not for everyone.
Also, you can use these shittier games to gather an audience. I've built my audience because, for the past few years, I've been releasing games that slowly give me growing fields of eyes every day. A success story overnight is a rare one. It takes time. It's like building a brand, but you aren't a brand, you're an artist.
REV UP YOUR ENGINES!
Ren'py is the number one engine you will be recommended. It is very beginner-friendly, with lots of tutorials, assets on itch.io to use and download, and support. The engine comes with a few tutorials in the form of games, whose code you can freely browse. This is the engine I use most often. Most visual novels you see are made in this engine.
Twine is a text-based engine that most people use for interactive fiction. You can add images and audio, though, if you don't mind messing with HTML. I use Twine for text games and for outlining for my larger games. Ever played Degrees of Lewdity? Yeah, I know you have. Don't ask why. That game was made in Twine.
RPG Maker has multiple versions and has been used for exclusively VNs if you don't mind fucking around with plugins. It can definitely give your game a super unique feel. I recommend RPG Maker MV, since it has the most resources. This line of engines usually costs money, but it often goes on sale for under $5-$15.
People will recommend TyranoBuilder, but as a user and player, the lack of options and the format the games often come in is just...not fun to navigate. It advertises itself as little to no code, but it's often evident in the final results. Some good games have been made in it, though, so if you want to use it for prototyping/practice, you can. I'm not a fan, but that doesn't mean that fans don't exist! This engine costs money.
Not an engine, but check out Ink! Super useful scripting language that's used for more professional projects.
DEMOS, DEMOS, DEMOS
You've got an idea for a long-term project, and now you want to show it to the world! But wait, wait, don't do that yet!
When should I start advertising my game? This is a personal opinion, but I say that you should not start advertising your game until 50-60% of your demo is complete. Why? As I've discussed with some fans of indie VNs, they can name quite a few projects that have been in the "working on the demo" age for 1-2+ years. I've been in the Kickstarter MMO circles. If you, making a single-player experience with little mechanics to balance and polish (aka a visual novel), are taking that long on a demo, I am going to assume the game is not coming out. There are some games I have seen out here that have been in "working on the demo" phase where I haven't seen a single ounce of what the project will look like.
What should I put in my demo? The purpose of a demo is to showcase the mechanics and the vibes and the mechanics of your game. It's a demonstration. In my last post, I pointed to the Dead Space 2 demo that was showcased at E3 (RIP), that takes place about 2 hours into the story and shows how enemies are defeated, some animations, bits of the story, etc. Usually, because it's less about mechanics and more about vibes, visual novel demos showcase a certain percentage of the full thing (5-10%.) Can you showcase the vibe of the game here and what players should expect? If not, show off another portion.
How long should I work on my demo? Before, I said 3-4 months. That can be true, that can also not be true. Think about how long the demo takes you in proportion to how long the actual game should take you. Don't put too much effort. The demo is to showcase the vibe. It's to see how much the public and fans may enjoy the game.
My game is 18+, what should I do? Make a splash screen when the game is downloaded to let players know your game is 18+. If it's going to contain sexual content, you can hide it with itch.io's adult content filter. Write it on the page itself that your game is for adults only. Don't put your demo behind a paywall. This is genuinely ridiculous. The purpose of a demo is to showcase what a game is like before a player purchases it. That defeats the point of a demo. I've seen this happen, and it discourages players from approaching, especially because most demos never make it past the demo phase. So...I'm paying you $10 for 2-3k words of a game that may never come out?
Should I make a social media for my game? YES! Go for it. These anchors are how people will find your game. Make a Tumblr and open that ask box. Make a Twitter. Go to BluSky. Advertising is not bad. Some YouTubers even take e-mail suggestions from developers. Feel free to shoot your shot. The worst they can do is not respond.
HOW TO SET UP YOUR ITCH.IO PAGE:
Getting your itch.io to a presentable state can be very challenging! There's many ways to do it. I highly recommend using this page image guide for learning how to size your images to make your page pop!
Itch.io themselves has suggested to not publish a page until the game or demo is released. You can make the page and keep it as a draft, but do not publish it until you're ready!
Your cover image is the image that will appear in the search of the website, on any front pages, in collections, and on your profile. What have I seen that works? Key art of one of the characters up close and the title of the game! If you can make it a .GIF, do it! Bitches love .GIFs!
Itch.io recommends 3-5 screenshots on your page. I recommend 1 of these 5 be a .GIF that shows how gameplay feels. This is effective, even for visual novels!
Write a 3-5 sentence summary about your game for the description. What is your story about? What is the draw?
DO NOT BE ONE OF THOSE PEOPLE WHO IS GOING TO SAY "This is not like other visual novels. It doesn't have that cheesy this or that or-" No one cares. Genuinely. You're putting down other games in your genre and elevating yourself to the pompous level.
TAG YOUR GAME! itch.io gives you a list of tags to choose from when you go to tag. DON'T USE THIS! Try to go for more specific tags. Arimia has a very good guide on how to use itch.io's tagging system to your advantage.
GENERAL GAME MAKING ADVICE
SCOPE KNIFE IS SUPER USEFUL! Everyone makes games that are way over their workload. It's okay to cut out features and add them later. Prioritize making a finished game before hitting those stretch goals.
PLAN, PLAN, PLAN! Writing outlines is super helpful. I use Twine for my outlines, because you can connect your passages together and make really well-thought webs.
IT'S OKAY TO ASK FOR HELP! Whether it's from friends, professionals, or anything in-between. They can help with assets, editing, etc.
HONE YOUR SKILLS OUTSIDE OF GAMES! Write some poetry. Do some sketches everyday. Improve on your craft to improve your games
MUSIC IS HARD. THERE ARE RESOURCES. Most of us aren't musicians. That's okay. Make sure the music you get for your game is allowed to be used. You can use anything non-commercial if your game will not cost money or donations. I try to do songs in the public domain or free to use overall with credit if I don't have a musician. Consult the Creative Commons website if you're unsure how you're supposed to use a certain piece of music. If you don't use the right stuff, not only can it put you in legal trouble, but it can put streamers in hot water if they play your game and they can't upload the video because music is copyrighted.
PLEASE, DO SOMETHING ABOUT YOUR UI. Wanna know an easy way to get your game to look more professional? Edit the damn UI for your game. Make a new textbox, even if it's just a black box. Change the font. Eventually, players recognize the defaults and patterns of games made in certain engines and may attribute a lack of UI changes to a developer being lazy. It doesn't take very long to change the colors around and move text! Please do it to add a little pop to your game.
DEADLINES ARE AWESOME. Not everyone works well under pressure, but if you give yourself an infinite amount of time to make something, it'll never get done. Set goals for yourself for how much you can work on something.
IF YOU HAVE TO GIVE UP, GIVE UP. Making things is hard, especially long-term. Emergencies happen, jobs happen, life happens. Let your fans know that a project isn't happening anymore. Don't leave them in the dark. You don't need to tell strangers your medical history or anything, but transparency + honesty are really hot traits. You should use those in your creative work. This is one reason why I advocate for not publishing or advertising things until you know it's stable.
SHOWCASING YOUR CONTENT
People love to see WIPs for games! This is what the devlog is good for! A devlog is a post where a developer talks about and showcases some things happening in the game? What can you add to your dev log?
PERCENTAGES! How much of the artwork is done? How much of this character's route is done?
SNEAK PEEKS AT ARTWORK AND SPRITES!
GIFS! GIRLS LOVE GIFS!
Anything else to showcase your game's content! Posting consistent updates retains and even gains a fan's attention for your work.
RUNNING YOUR TUMBLR
You've joined us, and you've made a Tumblr for your blog! Link it on the itch.io page, so people can come find you after playing your awesome demo!
Do I have to respond to every ask? No. It's your blog. Delete whatever asks you want.
I got a hate comment! What do I do? Delete it and move on. I have a more detailed section on hate below.
I want to interact with [blog]! How do I do that? Reach out to the devs for silly little collabs. If you come onto a developer slightly headstrong, they might feel you are being abrasive or using them for content.
If people make fan content, interact with it! Encourage it! Reblog it. Show your love.
OTHER IMPORTANT THINGS
PROFESSIONALISM IS KEY. These may be pet projects, but you want to appear some level of professional on your actual itch.io page.
Being dismissive of player and fan complaints or criticisms will make you appear childish.
If your game is broken, fix it. I have been told by some amateur developers to ignore game-breaking bugs. It does not make me, a player, want to engage with your content. It seems messy and unfinished.
With the above point, it's 100% okay to have bugs and errors upon release. Every developer and their brood mother has. To decrease these issues, get playtesters. Friends can play your games, spot any errors, and help you point out things that can be improved upon. I recommend having playtesters at every stage of development.
Make sure your game runs before you publish it. Please.
You can still be silly and giddy! There's no reason to not be, especially when you get positive comments! The point of this is to not be outright rude to potential players and fans.
IGNORE HATE COMMENTS. In this case, a hate comment is a statement that contains no constructive criticism and are only here to be insulting or malicious. People are going to leave you with actual piles of dog shit in your ask box. They are trying to provoke you. Giving hate comments any attention, even if you're there to "clap back" proves that they got to you, even if you don't take the hate to heart. They will continue to pester you. Delete any hate comments and ignore them completely. Laugh about them with friends in a private setting, sure.
THINK BEFORE YOU REFERENCE! I know one big thing in this community is adding references to other games in yours, such as plushies of other characters or putting them on posters. The best thing you can do it ask the developer before adding this. How would you feel if some random person you've never met put your character in a video game? Most of us would feel weird and potentially violated. Open communication with devs is awesome. I am usually okay with it as long as someone asks for permission.
As a complete aside, I prefer more tasteful references to other games as opposed to 523482346 plushies and posters. These have been slightly overdone. Why not theme a candy after another game's character? Maybe your characters know each other.
OTHER RESOURCES I RECOMMEND
Devtalk is a server dedicated to independent visual novel creators. You can find jobs, resources, advice, talks, and, like, everything there! Devtalk is super useful. Everyone in there is so cool. They have a really great and comprehensive list of resources that I could not even begin to cover.
Visual Novel Design is a great YouTuber. No other words, check the guy out!
Ren'py and whatever other engine you're using has documentation that's super useful to follow.
Arimia not only has amazing VN resources, especially for marketing, but she also just has? Amazing games that you should check out?
And for a shameless self plug, I'm the lead of Sacred Veins, a collective of devs creating narrative games, whether it be horror, humor, romance, or everything in-between. Come hang out with us!
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angel-eyes05 · 10 months
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to leave the warmest bed i've ever known (part 2)
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PREVIOUS CHAPTER
pairing: spider-woman!reader x miguel o’hara 
summary: life on the run is not for the weak. you're reminded of this once you run into someone you haven't seen in a while
warnings: a lot of angst (there'll be fluff and smut soon i swear i just feel like writing angst right now lmao), HUGE ATSV SPOILERS DO NOT READ THIS IF YOU HAVEN'T SEEN THIS MOVIE, mentions and descriptions of blood and injuries, this is so against canon its insane
word count: 2.2k
notes: ok so i changed my mind, miguel and the reader arent gonna make up just yet🤭. trust me when they do it'll be worth it lmao. im gonna need everyone to suspend their belief for the next chapters cause im kind of just making up the plot to beyond the spider-verse at this point for this silly little fic so just go with it
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God, this was very quickly turning out to be a very bad decision. The movies made being on the run seem a lot easier than this. What they had failed to include was how easily it was to get ambushed by Spider-Society members while hopping between the dimensions looking for Miles. Your little group basically had to hop through a bunch of different dimensions within a week and look for him there, then leave before HQ managed to track you guys down. You’re not sure how much time has passed since you left. Maybe a few weeks. Maybe a few months. The passage of time was pretty weird when you were constantly hopping through the fabric of space and time. All you knew is that your eyes had naturally dulled out the neon orange light that shined from the portals you were constantly jumping through. Luckily, none of your team had been caught yet. There had been a few close calls, but only two of those led to severe injuries, one of them being Gwen, and the other time being you.
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You and your team had been ambushed due to a malfunction with the portal opening. Each of you were put with your own variant to fight. Just to your luck, you were confronted by Jess. She looked awful to be honest. Stressed. She was probably put on finding you and your team while Miguel endlessly searched for Miles. This little wild goose chase had tired her out. Part of you felt bad. But that was very quickly overcome by the feeling of betrayal growing in your chest. You had a feeling she felt a similar way. “Please don’t make me do this. Just let me take you home,” she said weakly. Home. That’s right. That's basically what HQ had been to you before. You hadn’t been back to your Earth in five years, ever since Miguel caught you on the top of that building. Jessica was your first friend there. She had shown you the ropes to everything, been there for you during your lowest moments, and guided you to your highest ones. And now you had to repay her by sending her back to Miguel in a bloody pulp. You hated that this is how things had to go. But such was life for someone like you. “I have no home anymore,” you said at her monotonically before charging at her with your fists first. She’s quick to react, using one of her webs to swing away. It’s clear she doesn’t want to hurt you, each of her movements swift to defend herself, but never going on the offensive side. She could easily take you down if she wanted to. She had been doing this longer than you had and was more skilled than you too. She was going easy on you, desperately trying to show you she didn’t want to fight. But you didn’t care. You had put too much on the line to start to give up now.
The others had taken down their foes long before you had finished with Jess. You could see Gwen running up to you out of the corner of your eye, Ben tied up in a web behind her. You webbed her to the floor before she could get closer to the struggle you and Jess were currently in. You gave Gwen a quick, reassuring nod that she returned before running off to find the others. Once Gwen was out of sight, you quickly attached a web to Jess’ face, and pulled it down into your knee, knocking her glasses off her face and shattering on the floor. With her off her balance, you took the opportunity to try to knock her out. You slammed your fists into her face, one after the other, releasing all of the stress that had accumulated in your body over the past couple of months into her cheeks. You couldn’t see the damage you were doing, blinded by rage and betrayal and your fists blocking out her face. The only thing you could see was the blood splattering off of her face onto yours. You felt a voice in the back of your head begging you to stop. You desperately wanted to, but you had lost control of your body. Jess wasn’t the real person you wanted to hurt here, you already knew who that was. But she was the closest thing you could get to him right now. And if you were being honest with yourself, she wasn’t completely innocent to you either.
In her last desperate attempt to save herself, Jess shoved her forearm in the way of your balled up knuckles, grabbed a piece of shattered glass from her broken frames, and shoved it deep into your chest. Your reign of fury on her face suddenly stopped as pain quickly snapped through your body. You quickly fell to your knees, partially out of shock, and looked down to see the blood spilling out of your chest. As Jess dropped to her knees as well, you could finally get a gauge of the damage you’ve done. You couldn’t tell if the blood loss was making you see things, but her nose looked almost crooked, a dark cut slicing through the middle of it and blood pouring out of both nostrils. Both of her eyes were swollen, not entirely shut but on their way there. You looked down at your hands, the skin on your knuckles broken off and bleeding through the fabric of your suit, blending in with its natural red. They were trembling with a mixture of faded anger and new guilt. I never wanted to hurt her, you kept repeating to yourself in your head, as if it was going to make any difference. Maybe if you thought it hard enough, it would erase your actions. You suddenly flinched when you felt Jessica’s hand cupping your face. You looked up at her, mouth agape. Her soft thumb brushed your face as she stared lovingly at your face. So she did know. That made you feel a little less stupid when you broke down in front of her then and there. You just felt awful. Jess was your friend. Your best friend probably. And look at what you’ve done to her. You couldn’t understand how she managed to still be so soft with you, despite how much you’ve just mutilated her face. 
It was ever harder for you to understand how quickly she enveloped you as soon as she saw the tears begin to streak her face. You didn’t deserve this. You should run away. You need to run away. You’re currently bleeding out, and you’re just sitting here, sobbing into the crook of her neck. She’s probably just stalling for time and holding you here until help comes for her. But the longer you sat here the longer you realized…this was just her. It was only Jess here. No help was coming. Jess just wanted to hold you again one last time before letting you run away again. Once you pulled away from her, she wiped away your tears. “Don’t let me catch you,” she whispered into your ear. It was a reminder to you that while she was still holding onto her beliefs, that didn’t mean she ever stopped caring for you. She helped to push you up off of the ground, her hands now covered in your blood. You began to walk away out of  the dark alley to look for the others. Before leaving entirely, you turned around to look at Jess, still laying there. “I’ll find you once this is all over. So don’t you dare die on me, okay?” you shouted at her. She gave a simple nod in return, watching as you stumbled out of alley way. While you made the ultimate decision to let her live that day, you still had anger boiling up in your body. Somebody had to pay for all of this. All of this chaos that was about to unleash itself onto the multiverse. And you know exactly who did. And you didn’t intend to show him the same mercy you showed Jess. No. This was a job you intended to finish. 
---------------------------------------------------
Thankfully, your chest laceration healed up quicker than expected, allowing you and your teammates to get back on track. Images of your encounter with Jess replayed through your mind for the next couple of weeks. The only other person you told about the details of your brutalization of Jess was Peter B., knowing he would understand with all the hard decisions he’s had to make himself. Gwen and Hobie had also noticed that you were acting a little bit off, but you avoided the subject every time they would bring it up. 
Suddenly though, it was happening. The moment you and your team had anticipated for the past couple of weeks. You were awoken by the bright glow of three orange portals opening up, three Spider-Men in each. Your team sprang awake and began to make a run for it. It was no use though, as one by one, each member of your team was separated by a different group of variants, until it was just you, Gwen, and Peter running. While you were running, you felt a hand yank at the hair on the back of your head. You quickly turned around and found Ben Reilly as the culprit. You didn’t hesitate to jump into the air and kick his face, pushing him off of you and onto the floor. As the three of you kept running, your attention was suddenly caught by something else. “Keep your hands off her! That one’s mine!” you heard the familiar voice call out to Ben. A chill went down your spine, as the three of you stopped dead in your tracks. You did it. You finally managed to lure the bat out of his cave. Before you could turn around and find the face that belonged to that deep, alluring voice, you were caught off guard as you felt a body dive into your stomach at full speed, knocking all of the air out of you lungs. The pure force of the dive pushed you and the figure into the brick wall of an abandoned building, crashing into the structure. 
Vision and hearing fuzzy from the impact, you heard Gwen scream out your name and begin to start running to you, before her and Peter B. get swept up by their own variants to take care of. Your head throbs in pain as you look around the building, feeling a huge weight on your chest. You look down at the rest of your body to find what’s weighing you down so much. And it’s him. Miguel’s massive body laying on top of you, his head dug into your stomach and arms wrapped around your waist from the dive. You were partially in shock. First of all, from the fact that your first interaction with him in months is him attempting to kill you (although it’d be a lie to say you weren’t thinking similar things). Second, you were still reeling from the blow. And third, the most shocking of all, was that this was arousing you in some way. Despite how much anger you were feeling towards him right now, you still managed to get butterflies in your stomach from how much of him was on top of you right now. He basically enveloped all of the lower half of your body. 
Shame and anger filled your body fast as you tried to push him off of you, any attempts in vain though due to how massive he was. He helped you though when he began to stand up, allowing you to get yourself up and dive through his legs as an escape. Just as you made your attempt to run out of the hole in the wall, away from a fight you know you couldn’t win, Miguel’s giant hand wrapped around your forearm. He pulled your body back to face him and slammed his massive fist into your face. Blood spurted out of your nose purely from the impact and you were nearly knocked onto the floor. You grabbed your nose in reaction and looked up at him towering over you, unable to make out his expression from his mask. “You must’ve been thinking about this encounter for a while. Have you been thinking about me, Miggy?” you quipped at him. Usually you spoke playfully with him whenever you were in a good mood with him, but this time it was your one desperate attempt to push down any feelings that would get in the way of you doing what needed to be done. “Don’t feel so flattered cariño. Whatever happens here isn’t personal,” he said in that deep, flirty tone you always found so sexy. But right now all it did was piss you off even more. “Keep telling yourself that if it makes you feel better,” you said, dropping the slight smirk you had on your face. Taking action right away, you charged right at him, ready to do it right this time. You just wished he had his mask off so you could look him dead straight in his crimson eyes as you killed him.
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NEXT CHAPTER
a/n: i had night shift by lucy dacus on loop while writing the fight with jessica....thats all ill say on the matter. also sorry miguel's barely in this chapter i need to set up plot and shit. ALSO I JUST WANNA PREFACE, MY FIC TAKES PLACE A COUPLE OF MONTHS AFTER ACROSS THE SPIDERVERSE SO JESS HAD ALREADY GIVEN BIRTH. I SWEAR Y/N DID NOT JUST BEAT THE SHIT OUT OF A PREGNANT LADY💀💀💀
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velocesainz · 4 months
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Hey lovely, F1 idea with either Lando or Charles for you. Them coming home after being away a while and going to the fridge for a snack, only to find things you normally hate in there. Because you’re pregnant but you haven’t told anyone yet 🫠
A/n: Hope you enjoy, I’m sorry if this was a little short for your liking
F1 masterlist | main masterlist
Cravings
(LN04)
Summary: Lando doesn’t know you’re pregnant and comes home from f1 to find the most random foods in the fridge. What is his reaction? This is kinda short don’t mind
Warnings: none, super fluffy, very slight angst
Pairing: Lando x pregnant!fem!reader
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Y/n pov:
I came home with a bunch of groceries, most of them my pregnancy cravings and started putting the foods away.
Lando doesn’t know that I’m pregnant and I’m kinda scared to tell him. How will he react?
We never had a conversation about having kids before so I don’t even know if he wants kids or not.
Lando should be home in another few days so I better make a plan fast.
I put a hand on my barely visible baby bump. “It’ll all be ok baby, don’t worry”
A few days later:
Lando pov:
Finally I’m home! This season was fun but the break is going to be even better!
I can spend my time with y/n and maybe I can tell her about wanting to have kids
I’m at a decent level in my career and we are old enough to have kids, also I had baby fever from looking at Carlos’s niece and can’t stop imagining how y/n would look pregnant.
She would look really hot.
I came home and dropped my bag on the table walking into the house.
I called out to y/n but didn’t hear a response, she’s probably not home.
I felt really hungry so I opened the fudge but the contents inside really surprised me.
Pickles, peanut butter, cheesecake…
These are all foods that y/n hates with an absolute passion. Why is it in the fridge then? Was somebody over when I wasn’t around?
That can’t be possible! Y/n would tell me if someone came over, plus with how much she works there is no way she would even allow a visitor because she would fear that she wouldn’t be a good host.
Just then I heard the front door open and heard y/ns sweet voice that I’ve been dying to hear for the past 2 weeks. “Lando are you home? I’m back!”
I closed the fridge and ran to hug her tight.
“I missed you so much baby. I’m sorry I couldn’t come to the last few races.” She told me.
“I missed you more than you can imagine love. Also don’t worry about not coming to my races, just knowing you are watching me is enough motivation to do well in my races” I said to her causing her to blush, why is she so goddamn cute?
“I have one question, why are there pickles and cheesecake in the fridge? Me and you both don’t like them” I asked her. Her eyes widened in fear.
“Uh I uh…” she stuttered.
“It’s ok love, you can tell me no matter what it is” I said to try and ease her nerves.
“Ok…but just know that I understand if you want to leave me after what I tell you” she said with her down.
What? Did she cheat on me or something?
“I uhm..I’m pregnant” she said and backed away.
I was going to be a father. WAIT WHAT? IM GOING TO BE A FATHER!!
I immediately hugged her right and I felt a wet patch on my hoodie.
“You’re not mad?” She asked me with her big doe eyes staring straight into mine.
“Of course not love! I’ve always wanted to be a father, I’m sorry if I never told you before” I told her and watched as she breathed a huge sigh of relief and hugged me tighter.
“I’ll make sure that this baby has the best and most safe love with my favourite lady in the world” I said as we hugged each other tightly and stayed there for a while.
The next few months are sure going to be eventful.
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