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fleur-bbyy · 1 year

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MOTH TO A FLAME

✰summary: kiri is staying at bakugo and his girlfriend’s house when he catches them having sex through the crack of their bedroom door. kiri discovers he’s into voyeurism.

✰ warnings: all characters aged up 21+, SEX (minors and ageless blogs dni!!!!), non-con voyeurism (is that a thing?), kink-discoveryish?, spitting, some degrading, creampie, female reader, oral (f receiving), bi panic for kiri, squirting, bkg is bigger than reader, belly bulge

✰wc: 2.5k

heavily inspired by “private affairs” by @lady-lauren (amazing writer and very kind person!!) might continue this, who knows!!

he knows he shouldn’t be watching.

he’s a guest in his best friend’s house. graciously being able to stay in the guest room while his house is being fumigated. they’ve been nothing but accommodating. feeding him, insisting he not do any household chores, ensuring his comfort during his stay in the house.

how does he repay this kindness?

by watching his bakugo and his loving girlfriend go at it in their bedroom.

eijiro didn’t do it on purpose. he’d never go out of his way to watch his closest friend get to know his girl in the biblical sense. he was simply just trying to go get a glass of water from the kitchen, having to pass their room to do so. he kept his steps quiet, practically tip-toeing down the hall to not wake them if they were asleep. kirishima noticed the door was slightly cracked open as he was about to descend the stairs, but stopped mid-step when he heard the first noise.

he turned his head to look into the room when he heard the slight moans and whimpers that escaped through the crack of the door. it wasn’t opened enough to see everything, but he did see the way your legs were spread and glistened with a light sheen of sweat. your breast were bare, exposed to the gentle glow of the light you always kept on. your head thrown back as more of those sweet moans left your lips. he then noticed the large, calloused hands holding a grip hard enough to bruise on the plush skin of your thighs. strong arms wrapped around them to hold you in place. the blond was between your legs eating you like a man starved and covering your most private of areas with his head. the sight was enough to bring his dick to life and for him to drop his knees to the hardwoods with a soft thud. he hid in the shadows and mentally thanking whatever force compelled them to not fully shut their door.

“fuck kats. i’ve missed you so much. i need you.”

eijiro admired the way you sounded when you were overtaken to the waves of pleasure your boyfriend was drowning you in. he’d never admit it out loud, but he’d always thought you to be beautiful. always gentle, like a ray of sunshine that had fallen to the earth. i’m some ways, you were just like him. a stark contrast to katsuki, eijiro’s other schoolboy crush.

he let his mind drift to wonder about how you’d would taste on his tongue. you’d probably be the sweetest he’s ever had and he’d drink it up with fervor until you’d beg him to stop. he also wonders what’d it be like to have katsuki’s tongue running along the veins of his thick shaft. he accidentally lets a small moan slip, thankfully, it was covered by an even louder one from you as you released on katsuki’s face. thighs clenching and your manicured fingers digging into his blond hair. your hair swished as you threw your head back against the bed in pleasure, mouth forming the classic ‘o’ shape.

he decided to forego the glass of water when katsuki removed his mouth from your pussy to remove his cock from the grey sweats that hung lowly on his hips. he was built beautifully. rippling muscles that covered his entire body and a beautiful adonis belt that led straight to his dick. eijiro wondered if it was weird to call a dick pretty, but it was the only word that could describe katsuki. long and thick, but not as thick as the redhead that was spying in. a beautiful blue vein running along the erect shaft and his tip was a perfect shade of pink.

he pumped himself a few times to prepare to take you. eijiro doing the same. preparing to watch the love-making and passion between two very attractive individuals. just touching himself lightly enough to relieve the ache. ghosting his large fingers over the head and smearing some of his own pre down the length.

he knows it’s wrong

he knows he shouldn’t do it.

but he was too far gone to stop.

he was drawn to the scene unfolding before him like a moth to a flame. watching and admiring bakugo’s cock intently as he toyed with your entrance. rubbing the head up and down your wet slit until you were practically in tears begging him to push in. a loud moan leaving you when he finally does push all the way in. katsuki having to clamp his hand down on your mouth to try and keep you quiet as he began to rut into you. his hands gripping the curve where your waist and hips meet and low groans of his own escaping his mouth.

kirishima kept up with bakugo’s pace. fisting his cock to the rhythm he created as his hips snapped against yours. eijiro wished it was his name rolling off your pink tongue as he fucked you. watching your tits bounce with every thrust given and wishing his could just reach out and touch you.

he also wished to be under katsuki. he wanted to be the person katsuki was sweetly praising and hatefully degrading. wanted to know what it felt like when he wrapped a thick hand around his throat like bakugo had just done to you.

“‘m so fuckin’ addicted to you. pussy’s a drug, baby.”

he shuddered at the sound of katsuki’s voice. stern tone lacing the words that left his lips and made kirishima wish he was on his knees before him. his cock practically jumped in his hand every time bakugo spoke filth down to you.

“‘m gonna fuck you into the shape of my cock.”

“you’re just a desperate fucking slut, so greedy f’me.”

“roll those fuckin’ hips on me, princess.”

having to choke back his own whimpers to remain unnoticed. eijiro relished at the hot tears that ran down your cheeks that katsuki had so kindly wiped away for you before harshly tapping your cheek.

“open up, baby.” you obeyed his every command as a string on spit fell from his tongue and into your mouth. swallowing it without much of a second thought. eijiro’s eyes rolled back as he continued to beat his cock to the sliver of a view he had of the pair of you.

you whined when katsuki abruptly pulled out. he flipped you over and bent you over your shared bed before burying himself back in your wet heat.

“‘s too much baby!” you whined as he pistoned his hips into you at a faster, rougher pace.

“shut the fuck up and take this cock.”

eijiro was getting closer with every stroke of his fist. having to use one of his own hands to help him choke back and muffle the sounds threatening to spill from him. the fire burning in his abdomen only growing every time your ass jiggled from the rough pace katsuki had set. more of his pre leaking out of his slit and quickly being used as lube to keep himself going.

eijiro intently listened as your moans became louder and of a higher pitch. endless strings of slurred and babbling words coming from your mouth as you warned your boyfriend of another incoming release.

“fuck… fuck gonna cum, kats, gonnafuckingcum.”

“that’s it, princess, cum all over my cock. wanna feel you clench around me.”

if kirishima could see your face, he’d bet your eyes would be rolling to the back of your head as bakugo hit that sweet, spongy spot inside of you. he was about to let himself go until katsuki spoke up again.

“i know you’ve got another one in you-“

getting so horny for this was disgusting.

“-so be a good girl for me, yeah?”

but he was willing to be a called-out pervert if that meant he could continue watching.

he slowed the hand that jerked his cock, bound and determined to finish when you cum again. eijiro loved watching you be used as a cocksleeve. loved watching your beautiful cunt grip your boyfriend’s cock and suck it into your body.

and bakugo looked like a dictionary picture of power. he looked so domineering over you. a behemoth compared to your shorter frame. he’s always been strong and just simply better at everything because he wanted to be. nobody ever holding him back from something he wanted. eijiro imagines him to be the best fuck he could ever dream of having, somewhat envying you for being the one that gets to experience it.

“you’re so fucking deep in me.” a another bead of pre-cum rolls out of his slit when he notices the bulge in your belly every time katsuki pushes all the way in. he wishes it was his cock. he wishes it was his stomach. he’s never seen someone look so pretty taking a pounding like this before. bakugo’s hips speeding up as he tries to bring you over the edge before he falls victim to his own release. maneuvering a hand down to toy with your sensitive clit, causing your whines to grow louder and more needy. your cunt squelches with every thrust he gives and you take it all with grace.

“y’gonna come f’me again baby? gonna cum with me?”

he’s so close.

“fuck, kats, please.”

so goddamn close.

your words slur and become airy as if bakugo is knocking all the breath from your lungs. eijiro hopes that his best friend is going to fill your sweet pussy so he can imagine it’s his cum dripping out of you. his balls feel tighter and with every moan or groan he hears spill from your mouths, he finds the coil in his stomach to be twisting tighter. just a few more strokes and he’ll be done for.

“right there, kats! fuck.. please! i’m gonna cum.. i’m cumming! i’m cumming!”

“fuck yes baby, take this shit. cum on my fat cock. cum with me, princess.” eijiro loses himself at the piercing whine that leaves you when you squirt on your boyfriend. watching the clear liquid gush from your tight and stuffed hole sends him and katsuki over the edge at the same time. eijiro biting his hand and drawing blood as he tucks his dick back into his sweats to catch the load of cum that erupts from him. he watched bakugo’s every reaction as he came. head thrown back and brow furrowed as he continued to snap his hips into yours. grabbing a fistful of your hair and pulling you towards him. he watched the way the warm glow of light illuminated the sweat on your bodies and it made him feel as if he could jerk off again.

he payed extra close attention when katsuki slowly pulled himself from you. your hole gaping from being stretched by the massive man and dribbles of his white hot cum running out of your pussy. he intently watched once more as bakugo scooped up the cum and pushed it back in to you.

“not wasting a drop, baby.”

he had to close his eyes before he got riled up again, but he couldn’t bask in the post-nut clarity either. as quickly as possible getting off of his knees and trying to quietly walk on wobbly legs down to the kitchen to get himself the water that he actually needs now. somberly thinking of what he’d done.

eijiro kirishima is not a pervert. he didn’t do shit like that, but here he was. standing in the kitchen of his best friend’s house after busting a nut to them having sex with the wet patch on the inside of his sweats to prove it.

he stared at a dust bunny that had gathered where the countertop and wall met. he felt as dirty as that spot as guilt overtook his body. weighing down his muscular shoulders. the air felt thick and almost suffocating as he tried to take a few deep breaths to ease the shame that had settled in.

carefully making his way back up the stairs, he hoped to just walk on by. hoped that this would be a thing to only weigh down on him and him only. hoped he could put the disgusting, perverted, and voyeuristic act behind him.

you can only hope for so much when you’re guilty.

“eijiro.” he heard the booming voice of katsuki right as he passed the doorway. it was quiet enough for him to question if he was dreaming or not. he stopped in his tracks, glass in hand, to try and hear movement in the bedroom and see if anyone was awake.

“i know you’re out there, ei.” shit. he wasn’t dreaming. he felt the weight on his shoulders double as he tried to find his voice to respond back.

“yeah?” it was all he could muster. ashamed, embarrassed. there’s no way they didn’t know about what he did. he’d been caught.

“come here.” the two words were confusing to kiri, but his legs moved to enter the room anyways. was he going to get his ass beat? kicked out? murdered? he wasn’t sure. but he did know his eyes weren’t deceiving at what was laid out before him.

you were still on the bed, but had flipped over on your back and propped up on your elbows, completely naked. he got a good look at your still hardened nipples and glistening cunt from the fuck you’d had 10 minutes prior. katsuki was also still naked. standing at the side of the bed in all his glory, cock still half hard. eijiro’s eyes widened at the sight.

“i know you were watching us.” is all katsuki can say before streams of ‘sorry’s’ and ‘I swear it was a one time thing’ leaving his mouth before he could even think about what he was saying.

“there’s no need to be a fuckin’ baby about it,” bakugo cut his apologies off, “princess here loved it, didn’t you?” the two men look over at you as you smiled and nodded your pretty little head.

“y’know, we’ve both never came so hard before, so we thought we could reward you a bit.” your voice was sickeningly sweet. you could ask eijiro to do anything for you and he’d do it, no questions ask if you continued to lure him in with your seductive voice. your eyes were half-lidded as you looked up at him through your eyelashes. taking in the bashful expression on his face.

“reward.. me?” kirishima felt weak in the knees again as his cock stirred to life once more at the thought of either of you giving him a little something.

“yeah, yeah. you want it?” katsuki spoke, looking unbothered, bored even. eijiro nodded his head without a sliver of hesitation. his excitement resembled a puppy wagging when a treat is held in front of its face. his entire body felt like it was jumping in anticipation and the pressure holding his shoulders down had lifted. it felt like he’d gotten one hundred times lighter. like he was floating

he gasped when bakugo grabbed a fistful of his red hair and pushed him to his knees, facing your pretty pussy. his tongue darted out to lick his lips before katsuki spoke again.

“you want us? eat my fuckin’ cum outta her cunt.”

eijiro didn’t pay any mind to the dull ache that spread across his scalp. nothing would cause him to hesitate at the opportunity to taste the two of you.

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goodiegoddesselle · 2 months

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my favorite pair | L. DH

pairing: enemy roommate!haechan x reader

genre: smut, sir/daddy dom, unprotected sex, degradation, pervert haechan lol, enemies to lovers, uses doll/toy as a nickname

summary: you see one day that your annoying roommate, haechan, hasn't done his laundry and just left his basket by the washing machine. sure, this is irritating, but it reminded you to do your own. when you finally start getting your own clothing, you notice that your favorite pair of underwear is missing. on top of noticing that, you notice that your roommate, who moves around the apartment a lot normally, hasn't left his room at all that day either.

wc: 3k

minors dni. dont like, dont read.

______________________________________________________

You were tired of him. Tired of the dishes constantly sitting in the sink. Tired of his friends constantly being piled up on the couch, like you didn’t live there too. Tired of all the noise from his gaming—finally, it truly occurred to you just how tired you were of your roommate Lee Haechan.

For the most part, he didn’t do much but sit around and annoy you, whether or not he actually did his chores. It was almost like he messed with you on purpose. Despite all of this, however, you couldn’t help yourself from still having a partially hidden crush on him.

Yes, sadly, you did have a crush on him. You did, but there’s only so much you can do about having a crush on someone that doesn’t really get along with you the way you truly would’ve liked. It was almost impossible not to, nonetheless, seeing as Haechan was one of the most gorgeous men out there. His hair was long, golden and wavy, his eyes glowed a glistening honey color, and his voice was sultry with the perfect tenor tone. And with the amount of talents this man had, there really wasn’t anything you couldn’t like him for.

Did Haechan know about this crush, though? Never in a million years. You figured you would die before he even came close to knowing about it, let alone actually knowing. Especially since he was so irritating to you, even at that moment.

“Ugh, can you actually do your damn chores Haechan? I would like to take a break too, y’know!” you called out. You were in your room, digging through your clothes after seeing his laundry basket lying next to the washing machine. You figured you might as well do the laundry anyway, since he wasn’t getting around to it and your clothing was beginning to pile up inside your room.

A deep sigh left you as you dug through your underwear and recognized that something was wrong. It was gone—your favorite pair of panties was missing, and oddly enough, this was the first time that has ever happened to you. Your eyebrows scrunched in complete confusion. Where the hell could they have possibly gone?

You searched a little further, peeking under your pillows and through the rest of the drawers until Haechan’s lack of movement started making you curious. Sure, he was annoying, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t another human, and he typically moved around the apartment a lot more than he was that day.

Immediately you turned around, walked out of your room, and headed to the bedroom next to yours. It wouldn’t take much to get in his room anyway, seeing as he was either playing a game or sleeping with all the grunting he was letting out.

At least, you thought so.

You simply knocked on his door twice before letting yourself in, ready to talk about his laundry until your eyes landed on your roommate, who rushed to pull his blanket over his completely nude body. The squat you would have to do to pick up your jaw would probably give you the strongest legs on Earth.

“Woah!” he yelled, his eyes wide as he scrambled to hide his hands under the blanket as well. “I, um—I was just, uh, I-I…”

“There’s no need to explain, Haechan,” you interrupted, a smirk slowly spreading across your face, “I already saw them. Really? That’s what you’ve been doing?” The laugh that left you made his face turn the hottest shade of red.

It wasn’t hard to see Haechan holding your favorite panties in his hand. For once, you weren’t angry about it either. It was, however, a teeny bit shocking instead. You didn’t know that he was like this at all, seeing as every time one of your pairs would go missing, you would find it somewhere in your room the day after. The whole time you just figured it was you making them disappear. At least, until now.

You walked a little closer to him, closing the door behind you and giggling lowly. “Lee Haechan, when were you ever going to tell me that you are the world's most hidden pervert?” you asked. It was like he was frozen in place, internally freaking out as you leaned in and ran your thumb across his chin, his breath completely silent. “Well? What are you going to say about all this?”

“You know what, I was going to find an excuse, but since you want the truth so bad…” Haechan sat up, suddenly grabbing your wrist and pulling it away from his chin while pulling you closer. Your eyes widened as he held up your underwear again. His lips rose into a cocky grin as he waved them back and forth, watching the annoyance cover your face all over again. “It’s one thing to want you this badly, y’know, but you make it really easy to come and get these. And if you want them back, babe, this time you’re going to have to work for it.”

You scoffed. “Work for it? When it belongs to me? Guess you’re always like this, huh?”

“Like what, Y/N?”

“So goddamn infuriating!” you answered, rolling your eyes. Haechan laughed and leaned closer and closer to you, all the way to the point where your lips were almost touching, but not quite yet.

“Do you know you only get hotter and hotter the angrier you get?” Haechan replied. “If you didn’t want me to be so ‘goddamn infuriating’, then stop being so goddamn hot.”

He closed the distance between you two, tilting his head and pressing his lips to yours. It took no time at all for you to respond to it. You kissed him back fervently and climbed further onto his lap, sliding your hands onto his shoulders and taking his words and actions as an invitation to fight back. It was hard to reject him, after all, especially after feeling his teeth graze against your bottom lip several times.

The feeling of Haechan’s arms wrapping around your hips brought you into a high you didn’t even know you could reach, only getting higher and higher as he leaned down to your neck, slowly leaving kisses and sucking marks onto your warm skin. Crowds of moans left your lips, making him bite even harder. Out of nowhere, he flipped the two of you over and shoved you onto his mattress.

“I don’t care what anyone else thinks or how much I infuriate you, babe,” Haechan whispered into your ear, licking the shell of it, “you’re mine whether you like it or not.” He tossed the panties away from the bed and went back to leaving hot kisses on your lips and neck. But this time, you could feel his fingers sliding down your torso, all the way until he reached your pajama shorts and pushed under them. Another chuckle left him, and you could feel your face scorching from embarrassment, knowing damn well that he was laughing because you weren’t wearing anything under them. Your lips separated for a moment, but shut shortly after, shyness killing your effort to say something before he did. Haechan, however, already knew where you were headed with that.

“Oh? What, do you only wear your favorite ones?” Despite knowing it was a genuine question on his end, you really couldn’t find it in you to answer him. You even looked away, but that had no point, especially since he grabbed your jawline and immediately pulled your head back into facing him.

“Look at me when I speak to you, and don’t make me tell you again,” Haechan ordered. “You can use your words, doll. In fact, I’d like it better if you did.”

“Um, n-no, I don’t,” you stuttered back. Haechan’s gaze alone was intimidating you, which only made the situation ten times better than when it began. In fact, it got even better than that, right when his fingers started lazily rubbing at your cunt, slipping between your lips and toying with your clit. A loud groan filled the room the moment he began.

Haechan slid two of his fingers into you while keeping his eyes on yours. “For someone that loves talking about how annoying I am, you’re pretty wet right now. Soaked, even,” he teased, fingers massaging at your sweet spot gently. “It’s real cute.”

A frown crossed your face. You wanted so badly to say something back to that, but there wasn’t much to say back to the truth, really. However, as he picked up the speed of his fingers, the frown died within a few seconds, followed by his name being pulled out of you. Each second after, you could feel yourself getting closer to finishing, and you were completely ready for it—until he ripped his hand out of you. At first you were upset about it, but then you saw him licking your essense off of his fingers with an evil grin on his face, and that settled right away, being replaced with the need for him to put something much bigger back where his hand was.

Haechan pulled his fingers out of his mouth and chuckled, saying, “don’t think I can’t tell when you’re almost there; you made that face like you were ready to explode.”

Another pout crossed your face. “Then why didn’t you let me get there?” you asked. His face straightened out as he looked at you like you truly didn’t understand the situation you put yourself in at the moment. Again, he grabbed your chin and made you face him, his eyes flaring now instead of swirling with honey like usual.

“Did you really think I was just going to let you cum and we’d be done here? When you haven’t even thought about what you need to do for me too? Get up.” His hand slipped away as he climbed off of you, gesturing for you to rise up as well and take your shorts off. Despite being ordered to, another thought came to your mind and you figured things would definitely get different if you followed it. This time, a smirk crossed your face instead, and you crossed your arms.

“If you want me to get up, make me, then,” you baited, watching a look of surprise spread across his face before disappearing quickly. Before you could even see what he was planning to do, his hand shot across the bed like lightning and grasped your wrist again, startling you. Somehow you knew where this was headed for you.

“Last I checked, doll, I told you not to make me have to tell you again,” Haechan growled, ripping you off of the bed and in front of him, “but if you’re going to make me, you’re going to find out why I warned you to begin with. Shorts, off. Now.”

Completely filled with intimidation, you wasted no time in pulling your pajama shorts off this time, being completely nude from the waist down. Haechan’s gaze swept over you before he lifted your shirt up and leaned in, lips heading for your chest, right below your neck this time. He began leaving spots all over it, suckling onto your skin and heading lower and lower each time. You couldn’t help yourself from whining as he did it, grabbing at his shoulders again as your legs shook.

“H-Hae…” you mumbled, grip tightening around him. Haechan’s teeth grazed across your right breast before his head lifted. “Is there something my little toy wants?” he interrupted. With a tight throat, you simply nodded, hoping you could find it in you to answer him with words this time, but it didn’t take long for you to find out that those words wouldn’t matter either way. He lowered his head again and bit on your nipple, making you cry out into the room.

“Remember what I said earlier? Disrespectful playthings like you don’t get what they want either way,” Haechan said, sliding his hands under your thighs and lifting you up. “Learn how to act right next time and maybe I’ll reconsider.”

“Yes…” you moaned.

“Yes what?”

“Yes, sir…”

Haechan hummed in response and turned around, pinning you against the wall next to the door. “Now it’s my turn to play with my little toy,” he muttered. It didn’t take much time at all for you to feel it—the feeling of Haechan stretching you out with his size alone, making you wonder if you could even take someone as big as that. Your face froze with your mouth open, facing the ceiling in complete shock, your soul escaping your body more and more the deeper he got into you. Haechan himself let out a long, smooth moan as he pressed into you.

“God, I never knew you’d be this tight, Y/N,” he said, pulling out a little before thrusting himself back in roughly. “So, so good…” The two of you stayed still for a moment as he let you get used to his size. After a few moments, Haechan began again, pushing and pulling himself in and out of you at a slow pace at first.

“Sir,” you finally spoke, “can you speed up a little bit?”

“I will if you ask me nicely,” he responded, still moving slowly just to mess with you.

“Sir, please speed up,” you pleaded. Haechan leaned down and left a quick kiss on your neck before speeding up to a pace more hasty, more rough and harder to handle. Part of you regretted asking him to get faster, but most of you couldn’t even focus on that. You were enjoying the sensation of his cock hitting your sweet spot full force each time he slammed into you, your back pressing against the wall as he fucked you.

“Look at my pretty little doll, taking it like she should be,” Haechan teased, going harder and harder into you. At this point, you could barely handle what he was giving you, but every part of you wanted it. Needed it, even. You could even feel your orgasm coming toward you full speed, like a car on the highway at night. With how loud you were moaning, too, everything in you knew that he could tell as well.

“I’m so close,” you breathed, your arms tightening around his neck as your cunt tightened around him.

“Really? Is my doll already so close? How bad do you want it?” Haechan asked mockingly.

“So bad,” you replied, “really, really bad…”

“Yeah? Then beg for it.”

“Please, sir, please let me cum; I need this so badly…”

Haechan reached his hand down and began stroking at your clit. “Keep going, babe.”

“I’m so close, please let me cum, I’m begging! I-I’ve been doing good, please, I’ve been a good girl,” you continued pleading as a shock of what felt like lightning passed through you. If he didn’t decide now, you were going to release either way, and you didn’t want to disobey him all over again just to get another punishment.

“Hmm,” Haechan hummed decisively, almost jokingly. “You have been doing pretty well so far… I think you’ve earned it. You know what to do; cum for me, now.”

Immediately you released, his order cutting the tie for you. You were squeezing his cock as your juices leaked out, spreading all over him as he continued to thrust into you. It was amazing, but the overstimulation was starting to hit you not too long after.

“S-Sir, I can’t take this anymore,” you cried, legs weakening around his waist as he continued.

“Yes you can, doll,” Haechan responded, grunting lowly, “because good girls take what they’re given. And I’ve got something for you to take.”

Your nails were clawing into his skin at this point. Tears rolled down your cheeks as the intensity increased. You could feel another orgasm coming for you, and your whole body was ready to implode all over again. Haechan pressed his face into your neck again, taking a deep breath in before moaning at full volume, picking up speed as he pounded into you.

Not too long after, Haechan’s teeth sunk into your collarbone again as he moaned, “now take everything Daddy gives you.” Instantly, you were filled with more and more of his cum as he came, pushing you harder against the wall and leaning up instead to kiss you on your lips instead. The two of you made out even after he finished, even after both of you noticed that his release was starting to drip out of you, and even after you noticed you had also came while he was getting off. After a while, the two of you finally pulled away from each other, Haechan still carrying you but just not against the wall anymore.

Soon after, the high started fading away, replacing itself with a different level or nervousness. The reality that you just slept with your crush-slash-enemy hit you like a full-force train. At some point, you decided that since you already did all of this, you might as well just let him know anyway. “I just wanted to say, Haechan,” you began nervously, “that I do actually like you… I just didn’t really have a way to let you know, I guess…”

The nervousness began peaking when all Haechan did was watch you in silence while blinking. Then, out of nowhere, another gentle laugh escaped him. “You think I didn’t know that, Y/N? What did you think I bothered you so damn much for?”

“You what?” you gasped. “You fucking knew that already and didn’t ask me out or something like that instead?” He shrugged.

“Just wanted to play with my toy first. You should already know that you’re mine. I’m just glad everyone else gets to know now, too,” he said.

You sighed. “You’re so freaking annoying.” Haechan leaned in right by your face again.

“Doesn’t matter; either way you’re mine. Aren’t you, doll?”

#haechan #nct dream smut #haechan smut #nct smut #nct 127 #nct 127 smut #nct 127 haechan #nct 127 haechan smut #nct haechan smut #nct dream #nct dream haechan #nct dream haechan smut #nct

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moonstruckme · 28 days

Note

Hi! I absolutely love your writing and saw that your requests were open so I thought I’d shoot this over. If you don’t vibe with it don’t worry about skipping it. I was wondering if I could request a James x reader where they are living together and definitely love each other but they’ve kind of slipped into a roommate phase. Like they’re just living around each other and reader starts feeling insecure and scared and doesn’t know how to get back into normalcy. Maybe a little angsty with some fluff at the end

Thanks lovely!

James Potter x fem!reader ♡ 2.4k words

When James comes in the front door, his shoes squelch. You look him up and down, dripping wet and mud caked up to his knees. You wince.

“Rough practice?”

“Like you wouldn’t believe,” James says, dropping his bag by the door and heading for the kitchen.

There’s an exhausted slump to his shoulders, and his shoes leave a muddy trail of footprints, and you hate to do it, but—

“Would you mind taking off your shoes?”

“Oh.” James looks down. You see him follow the trail with his eyes. “Yeah, sorry.”

“It’s fine.”

You hate yourself as soon as it’s out of your mouth, because that’s exactly the sort of thing you’d say if it wasn’t fine. And yeah, you’re a bit peeved that he’d track mud inside after you’d mopped the floors just yesterday, but you know he wasn’t thinking about it and you’d promised yourself just this morning that you were going to be nicer to him and now he’s sitting on the floor looking like his day is getting worse instead of better.

You try again.

“Um, I made dinner.” You step over him awkwardly, setting a hand on his head to help yourself. James doesn’t shrink from the touch, but he doesn’t lean into it like you could swear he used to either. The stove turns off like it’s relieved to do it, having idled for close to a half hour while you waited for James to get home. You wanted to try and eat together tonight; you used to do it all the time, but lately you’ve been having too many couch dinners by your lonesome. “Macaroni and cheese, is that alright?”

“Yeah, thanks.” You jolt a little at James’ hand on your back as he reaches around you for a bowl, and he looks at you, lips quirking like you’re funny.

You find yourself smiling back by muscle memory, a reflex almost forgotten. It lifts your heart.

“So, how was practice?”

James glances up at you, then goes back to filling his bowl. “I’ve already told you,” he says. “Rough.”

“Oh, right.” You huff out a little laugh. He passes you the spoon, and you take it without really looking at him. “Sorry.”

His answering smile is weaker this time. More a press of his lips than anything.

“Don’t be.” He kisses you on the cheek, then goes, pulling out his chair at the table.

You take your seat, too. A lot of these base routines have begun to feel empty lately. They used to be an assurance for you, like if you always wore your same paths into the carpet you’d become so entrenched in this house, in James’ house, that neither he nor it could ever let you leave. You loved knowing that if he was back from his run when you woke up in the morning, there’d be a glass of orange juice waiting for you on the counter. That when the flowers on your kitchen table started to wilt you’d come home to a fresh bunch, and that if you called and told him you were having a bad day lunch from your favorite sandwich shop would miraculously show up at your work. Those things used to make your heart feel full to bursting, because they meant he was thinking of you.

Now you’re not sure what they mean. They seem like things James does because he’s supposed to, like part of a script, a routine. Chores.

As soon as he’s sat down, he’s digging into his dinner. James eats like a boy. Wolfing, like someone’s going to take it away from him. You hope it means he likes it.

“What’d you do tonight, m’love?” he asks through a mouthful.

And see, he says things like that. Calls you his love, asks about your day. It’s all started to fall flat. You know he’ll take whatever answer you give him, because you’ve begun to suspect he doesn’t really care.

“Nothing crazy,” you answer honestly. “Shayna’s baby came early, so I’m taking on a bit more at work until they can find someone to fill in for her. So that’s a bit stressful, but it’s not awful.”

“Mm.” James nods, but doesn’t offer more than that. His mouth seems to be perpetually full.

You fork a macaroni noodle, pretending you have more appetite than you do. Truthfully, you’ve felt weird and off and vaguely nauseous all day.

Last night had been a bit of a breaking point for you. It came on rather suddenly. You’d gone to bed long after James, but you couldn’t sleep. You couldn’t seem to tear your eyes from him, the way the moonlight snuck in through the slats in your blinds to fall across his sleeping face. He was so beautiful, and you loved him so much you didn’t know what to do with it all, and then you were crying.

You’d wept silently, wishing James would wake up, but you were unwilling to rouse him and he wasn’t going to do it himself. Eventually, you’d fallen asleep with your pillowcase damp and cold under your cheek and woke to find James’ side of the bed empty as usual. Orange juice on the counter.

“I was wondering if you might want to watch a film tonight,” you say lightly. “I saw they’ve put that sci-fi one you like back on Netflix.”

“Ah, have they really?” James swallows, forks another bite. “Wish I could, but I’m supposed to meet everyone at Spoons in a few minutes here.”

Oh. The realization hits you like a dull thud, smack in the center of your chest. He’s not eating quickly because he likes your food; it’s because he wants to leave.

“Can’t you stay here?” Your voice is small. James looks at you like he’s not sure what to make of it.

“Not tonight, sweetheart.” He offers you a smile. His fork clinks in the bottom of an empty bowl, and his chair screeches as it’s pushed back. James brushes his lips across your cheek as he goes by. “We’ll have to do it this weekend, though, definitely.”

You know by now these sorts of promises aren’t meant to keep. They come written in disappearing ink.

He heads upstairs to change, and desperation grips you. It forgets he’ll be home later and puts you hot on his heels, your own dinner left on the table barely touched.

“Jamie, wait.” He pauses with his shirt half off, looking over at you in the doorway. “Don’t you feel like we’ve not had much time together lately?” you ask.

The plea is naked in your tone, and James’ eyes soften. He tugs his shirt off, straightens his glasses. “I haven’t had time for much of anything lately,” he says, shrugging good-naturedly.

It’s true. He’s been busy. His new coach seems to think the team has nothing but time, and as captain James is expected to commit even more than most. When he’s not at training, he’s keeping fit on his own or running errands for his mum or sleeping it all off in your bed.

“But you should come tonight,” James goes on brightly. “Dorcas and Marlene will be there, it’ll be fun.”

He tosses his clothes in the laundry bin and makes his way over to the dresser. You cross your arms, then uncross them. Parse your words. “I don’t…I just feel like you hung out with your friends last night, you know?”

“You could’ve come then, too,” he says, stepping into a pair of jeans. “They all love you, you know that.”

“I don’t want to hang out with your friends.” It comes out sharper than you intend, though not less sharp than the look James gives you. He’s finished getting dressed but doesn’t make to leave. “That’s not what I mean. I like your friends, but it’s not…the same as spending time with you. It doesn’t count, for me.” Your voice softens on the last two words, knowing that for James, it might very well count.

For him, you’ve gathered, social time is social time. So long as you’re there, he’ll feel just as connected to you as if you were curled up on the couch together having a private conversation. You wish your brain worked the same way, but it doesn’t.

He’s looking at you with something like trepidation now, so you state it plainly.

“I really miss you, Jamie.” A blockage rises in your throat. You swallow it back down. “I feel like…I don’t know what’s going on with us lately.”

“We’re the same as we have been.” He looks confused, worse when your face pinches painfully.

“And that’s all?” You try to blink them away, but tears burn in your eyes. “This is just what we do now?”

“No.” James looks appalled, but you catch the quick glance he gives to the digital clock on his nightstand. “It’s only for now, just until the season’s over and Coach mellows out. Where’s this coming from?”

You blink hard, angling your head away from him. “Nothing, sorry. I’m just being emotional.” Your breath scrapes on the way in. You pretend it doesn’t. “It’s okay if you have to go.”

He shakes his head, and when you start back towards the stairs anyway, he says, “No, come on.” In a few long strides, he’s got your elbow. He tugs you gently back into the room. “Let’s sit down, okay? What’s going on?”

“Sorry.” Your voice is pitchy and tight. You think you hear James inhale softly before he’s drawing you into a hug. It doesn’t feel quite like it used to, but it’s still warm, still nice.

He sits you both down on the edge of your bed, arms still wrapped loosely around you. “What are you sorry for, baby?”

“I was going to try not to make your life harder today,” you laugh wetly, pulling back from him to swipe under your eyes.

“You don’t make my life harder,” James says, somewhere near to dismayed as he slides his hand to your shoulder. “Of course you don’t.”

You give him a look meant to say, Oh, come on, but you’re not sure how it comes off with your face blotchy and snot starting to run from your nose. You take in a big breath, trying to calm yourself.

“I think I’ve made it harder more than I’ve made it easier lately,” you admit, looking at your bedcover and also at nothing at all. “I didn’t even really realize until recently, but I’ve just felt so…disconnected from you lately. It’s like even when you’re here, I’m just around you and not with you, and—” Your voice catches, and you inhale again. “And I know you’re really busy, but I’m just trying to find ways to fix it.”

James’ hand drops from your shoulder, into his lap, and you lift your gaze. He looks crestfallen. “What do you want me to do?” he asks quietly, his own voice starting to sound raw. “I can’t control these things. And we live together, I see you all the time. It doesn’t seem fair to ask me not to see my mates.”

“I’m not asking you to do that.” You’re horrified. “But that’s just it, Jamie, it’s like we only live together anymore. Saying hi when you come in, waving when you go back out, those don’t count as quality time for me. And I wish I could get the same feelings from being in a big group that you do, but I can’t.”

James looks at you helplessly. You shrug, just as powerless.

“I know it’s not your fault,” you tell him, and a tear drips off your chin. “I don’t know what to do, either. I just want you to know that I’m trying, okay?”

James nods for a minute. Thoughtful, heartbroken. He lets out a big breath. Your arms come around each other at almost the same time, so in sync you can’t be sure who reaches for the other first. You’re trying not to get snot on his fresh shirt, but he palms the back of your head, pressing your face to his shoulder.

“Okay,” he says quietly. “You’re right, we should both be trying more. I think I’ve let myself get so overwhelmed that I’m not…almost not even thinking throughout the day, but that’s no excuse. I’m sorry you’ve been dealing with all of this by yourself.”

“It’s not your fault,” you repeat, and a little laugh rumbles through James’ chest. He hugs you tighter.

“It is a little bit, though, isn’t it? I haven’t been paying attention. But okay, let’s make a plan for now.” His hand splays out between your shoulder blades, and you clutch at the material of his shirt, both of you wordlessly trying to get closer as if you can make up for lost time. “Come with me tonight, please.” You go still, but James goes on, “I know it’s not a solution, but I can’t back out and I’d really feel so much better if you were there. Please, angel. And tomorrow, we’ll stay in and watch something. Not a film only I like,” he gives your back a teasing little squeeze, “but something we can both get into. Or we can just talk, or play a game, I don’t care. Tomorrow is our night, yeah?”

“Yeah,” you sniff, nodding and pulling away slightly so you can wipe your face. James joins in, pinching your nose clean for you and wiping the snot on his jeans carelessly. “Yeah, okay. I’ll try to clear my busy schedule.”

He smiles. It’s like the sun beaming through clouds. “I’d appreciate that. Really hard to get ahold of you these days.” You let out a little laugh, and his grin spreads. “Good, so that’s for now, and at training on Friday I’m going to talk to Coach about cutting down on our hours.”

You feel your eyebrows pinch. “Jamie, you don’t have to—”

“I do,” he says. “I’ve been a wuss about it, but everyone on the team is miffed and it’s really my job to handle it. He doesn’t know everything yet, so I can at least give him some advice about how we operate best.”

James palms the back of your neck, pulling you towards him and meeting you halfway. His forehead presses against yours.

“I’m really glad you said something. Thanks for being the smart one, as usual.” Your smile is small at first, but James nudges his nose against yours until it blooms in full. “We’re gonna make it better, okay?”

You swallow thickly. “Okay. Thanks, Jamie.”

“Don’t thank me.” His voice takes on a tender quality, and you push your forehead into his. He palms your cheeks in response, stamping his lips to your forehead. “Love you, sweetheart.”

“I love you, too.”

That was never up for debate.

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fauustic · 11 months

Note

loved your bubble bath fic! can i make a request about miguel and reader who’s always doing favors for him (ex: bringing him lunch, patching him up after a rough night of fighting crime, checking up on him) and he tries to figure out why they’re doing this bc he thinks he’s a freak bc of his powers, until reader just confesses their undying love for him?

i hope i did this one justice! thank you for the request, anon!!

gender-nonconforming reader x miguel “spider-man 2099″ o’hara

angst, comfort. miguel, unable to accept his changed self, runs into you.

warnings: newly genetically altered miguel, intense insecurity and self-consciousness on his end. use of "freak" as self-depreciation. spanish may be iffy, not the best so i had little help with a translator :)

word count: 4291

Miguel liked the apartment he found himself in, low-key and hidden away from most of the hustle and bustle of the city. The complex was barely busy, except the few residential college students just looking for a place with cheap rent and the couple drunk office-workers who drag themselves to their apartment late every-night.

Having his senses genetically evolved, he couldn’t exactly fight himself when it came to being observant. Miguel would accidentally eavesdrop on work conversation, learning rather disgusting secrets of his co-workers with a sneer before trying his best to cover his ears subtly. The rare moments he was walking along the street alone, he’d hear passing comments that would normally flatter him, but hearing it from hushed strangers made him feel a gross way. Like he was intruding beyond boundaries. Learning things he shouldn’t by accident made him feel like a social monster.

Miguel knew almost everything going on around him. So when he was able to pick up on the clink of keys jingling into the presumably-empty apartment right next to it, Miguel wasn't exactly curious about the new neighbor– if anything he was a bit irritated. Knowing he'd have to suffer through days due to your chores, or the clanging of pots around every dinner, it made him feel more of a freak. No one else had to deal with such problems, so the newfound issues arising ever since the incident of quite literally getting his genetics flipped upside down– it made his skin crawl and heart ache.

He would continue to suffer in quiet, claws digging into his pillow in a fit of agitation. Miguel will continue trying to live his life, and as you will yours.

It took weeks to finally run into you, as he stepped out of his own apartment and you were entering yours. It was a complete fluke, as Miguel began growing accustomed to wearing earbuds and turning on an easy-listening playlist to try and drown out the noises that normally put him so on edge.

He was locking his apartment before finally noticing your figure standing in your own doorway, a smile on your lips so genuine he almost was stunned. A welcoming neighbor in the city of Nueva York? Completely unheard of, quite frankly, it may even be considered suspicious.

The moment Miguel slipped off one of the earbuds, your voice met his eardrums in a way he's never heard anyone before. Usually, Miguel would gain a migraine after conversation with others. He's not used to his powers yet, and as much as it made him feel as if he was just some animal, the case didn't arise with you.

Smiling with sincerity, you held out your hand for him to take in a greeting. "Hi! I was wondering if I moved next to someplace haunted.." It was obviously a joke, yet when Miguel hadn't reacted you felt the need to explain in a much more awkward tone. "I suppose I just would hear some rummaging over on your side, but not a single person ever stepped foot out until now! Thought I was just hearing things." You giggled, rubbing the back of your neck while your other still hung with anticipation.

Miguel felt a subtle smile sneak itself onto his own features, before firmly shaking your hand back. "Ah, I hope you've been settling in well. Welcome to Nueva City, it's a pleasure to meet you." He wasn't necessarily trying to be awkward, it's just he technically does work all day, goes home, and then proceeds to pummel the absolute shit out of criminals corrupting the city. Miguel has lost a touch of charisma when it comes to new people, his usual way of conservating was from whoever was on the opposing side of his fists. A silence loomed over the two of you before you perked up, giving him a "hold on, there's something I have for you," before disappearing within your apartment.

Confusion etching his consciousness, Miguel shifted on his feet. "What?" He huffed out. Guilt seeped into his thoughts, why are you the one giving a gift? Shouldn't he be the one to bring a house-warming present?

Miguel shook his head, easily brushing off your antics with an excuse of you "being nice, wanting a friend close by." He practically chuckled at the idea, Miguel wasn't the type to befriend off a whim, as much as he hated it he knew he was played a tough facade for those around him. It was difficult to break that barrier as he didn't trust others well, let alone allow an opportunity to accidentally reveal his monstrous features to a civilian.

His doubts were interrupted with a light giggle from that melodious voice of your's, a nervous bounce in your step as you held out tupperware for him. It was nothing too big, only enough for a meal, but the warmth in his hands rendered him shell-shocked. Growing flustered, he opened his mouth to ask what this was before you quickly answered before the words tumbled off his lips.

"It's nothing special, I was just making some good ol' chicken alfredo pasta last night and had some leftover." You explained with a flurry of nervous hand gestures, catching Miguel's gaze. He found himself studying you excessively, the idea of eating a home-cooked meal for the first time that week had his mouth watering. "Since we never catch each other, I thought your schedule may not allow you to have a good meal every once and a while." Miguel couldn't deny that the idea made his chest bloom with a painful tenderness despite just thinking how he wouldn't cave easily for you.

He didn't deserve this normalcy from you. He didn't deserve this meal from someone like you, sweet and caring and human. As much as a voice whispered to him to open up, to accept this because he needed such kindness– Miguel shut his brain off as he met your own stare.

You were messing with a bracelet on your wrist with a downturned frown and a nervous glint in your eyes due to his abrupt silence. He perked up once realizing the anxiety was because of him, because of his reaction.

"This is.. very nice of you." Miguel confessed stiffly, unsure how to exactly react because he's not used to gifts. "Thank you..?"

You blurted your name out clumsily as he trailed off, and Miguel just couldn't contain the chuckle that escaped his lips. It was nothing like the chuckle before, he felt happiness explode through his chest at the simple sight of you joining him.

"Thank you," Repeating your name, he caught the wobble of your smile when it purred off his tongue. His words were more genuine as the tension from before loosened. Miguel's gaze dropped from his next lunch to your hands, in which he couldn't help but squeeze them both in a reassuring manner. It may have been difficult with the tupperware sandwiched between his arm and hip, but he was determined to express his gratitude in a friendly manner. He knew he was acting a bit weird, but he truly was trying to hold it together.

"Miguel, Miguel O'hara." He finally introduced himself, almost wanting to slap his cheek over stupidly waiting so long to do so. But you just giggled, and the squeeze he felt on both his hands washed away any thoughts his insecurities infected him with. "So nice to meet you, Miguel." What an angel, un ser celestial he couldn't help the thought.

Your phone erupted through the comfortable silence that enveloped over the two of you, and with an apologetic glance you signalled you had to go. Before finally picking up your phone, you quickly sputtered out "have a good day at work!"

For the first time since his incident, he felt normal. The lighthearted conversation, the look of joy directed towards him in contrast to the usual fear. It fueled something inside him, a yearning for more.

Miguel, for the first time in so many years, looked forward to a day in the lab because of some chicken alfredo pasta. It was stupid, he knew that.

But as his tongue met the noodles later that shift, which were seasoned just right, accompanied with a tender, grilled slab of chicken– Miguel almost fell out on the floor of his lab. He had never missed home-cooked dishes more than now after finally getting a taste of your recipe.

Stabbing another forkful, he wondered why you didn't just keep the rest of it for yourself.

A full week passed until a light knock and ring to his doorbell met the dimly lit room.

He couldn't withstand bright lights, especially the overhead light of his apartment. Miguel's eyesight still was trying to get used to the sharpness, the ability to track a motion muscle by muscle. It was a blessing, being able to to spearhead figures in the dark– but lights enraged migraines he couldn't shake off for days.

Wincing as he dodged his suit lamely bundled on the floor of his apartment, Miguel couldn't help but hiss when his nose scrunched the wrong way. The stench of blood flooded his senses, the black eye forming tingling with pain. He was exhausted, and ready to tell off whoever decided to ring him this late into the hour.

What he didn't expect to see was you, standing in the doorway with a sleepiness to your expression as your pajamas hung loosely to your form. In your hands, this time, was a tray of cookies that looked as if they just left the oven. "Hey there, neighbor," you giggled with a tired haze in your tone, shifting your attention from your slippers to his own eyes.

Yet, after a few seconds of your eyes adjusting to the darkness, you were able to make his injuries out with a surprised gasp. The silly greeting was forgotten as quickly as it came, you demanded answers as the light from your own apartment seeped into his. Miguel's shock at seeing you up this late easily allowed you to push past him, laying the cookies down on the nearest counter you found.

"Miguel, what is wrong with your face?" You whispered with sadness, your grasp finding purchase on his cheeks. He couldn't bear this proximity with you, so he quickly pushed the advancement aside before trying to conjure up any excuse he could make.

"I had– a–" He sighed a huff of frustration, pinching the bridge of his nose in habit. But the gesture was quickly ruined with his own whine of pain, something he didn't want you to hear at all. "I had a fight at work, okay?" Miguel hisses through fangs, yet they didn't catch your attention due to the chaos of suddenly finding "Well-Kept, Awkward Chemist Guy" with a bloodied nose and a bruising eye. "I didn't expect it, ya know? El científico loco. Took a few swigs of a sample and that went wrong. Was caught in the crossfire."

He hadn't realized you had wandered off, rampaging through his bathroom for medical supplies until you came back with the items in hand. "Go on, sit down." You ordered, and with confusion etched all over his face, Miguel couldn't allow himself to disobey.

The apartment, dark with the exception of a few neon lights peeking through the big windows every now-and-then, stayed silent except for the few "be quiets" in response to Miguel's hisses and muffled groans. He hated being so vulnerable in front of someone he knew so little of, which led him to bring out the question that's been on the tip of his tongue this entire time. He shuffled nervously in his seat that you led him to minutes ago as you stood in between his legs with a focused expression resting on your features.

But you beat it to him first. As your hands skillfully bandaged wounds littering his skin, one one his shoulder and a few other on his back, your solemn tone broke through Miguel's guilt like a talon against prey.

"I know that story you made up was utter bullshit,"

"What-"

"No, you listen to me O'Hara." You tutted, as stern as he's ever heard you. "I'm not asking for excuses, or an entire story that's a lie. I asked what happened because I was worried, I'm not mad."

Miguel's breathing hitched, looking at his nails that briefly unsheathed into claws before he was able to control his panicked shame. "Why?" He couldn't help but mumble, "why are you worried? You have no right to be, no somos nada el uno para el otro. Nothing is between us, you should have left the moment you saw." Miguel avoided your eyes that peered into his soul like you knew his secret, could read him inside out. Tears he didn't know he could produce clouded his vision, deeply moved from the drop of kindness you've granted him.

You sighed, heavy and lingering. Words were left unspoken as he was drawn into a hug by your arms, in which he greedily returned with his own hold.

Miguel fought within himself constantly, the idea of being accepted for his differences was completely foreign to him. But here you were, denying every thought he's ever had about himself. And you didn't even, truly know him.

"Don't cry," You murmured into his curls as you pet the back of his head before returning to applying a new, medicated bandaid on his nose. Swiping away tears as you brushed away dried blood, Miguel would choke out a "I don't deserve this, I don't," before being promptly cut off with a flurry of reassurance.

By the end of the night, Miguel allowed himself to be led to his bed by you, exhaustion evident within his walk as you had to help keep him steady.

It was nauseating, seeing Miguel in such a broken state. It made you wonder if he sat in his apartment, wallowing in his own mind. You had no idea what he was going through, but you were determined to keep him grounded.

That night, as Miguel was tucked into bed by you like a sick child, you vowed to try to be there more for the man you developed a genuine attraction to over the weeks of small chit chat.

The little shame he held close to his heart washed away with ease as throughout the upcoming weeks, your visits would become more frequent, showering him in little trinkets you'd pass by in the city that "reminded you of him" and homemade goodies.

Miguel just couldn't bring himself to understand why you put in such an effort to include him in your routine, to keep him, a man in pieces that just coincidentally was your neighbor, in your life.

As many times as you halted his vague little ramblings of "I do not deserve this, I truly don't, pequeño panadero," he had this mentality rammed within his brain that he just couldn't shake. Something that made no sense because he just couldn't open up to you.

After a bad run-in with a lowly villain, Miguel groaned every time his form landed on another building to climb. His features threatened to frown at his awareness, the absurdity of it all. Here he was, digging talons into metal beams to scale skyscrapers with another set of nasty scratches and bloodied knuckles. What the fuck? Tonterías.

Miguel was having such difficulty coming to terms with his new lifestyle as he pushed himself to continue without a break, the only bits and pieces of clarity was with you.

Everytime you two met, you always had some sort of sweet or delicious tray of food that could might as well be a contestant for a national baking competition. He would tell himself not to eat it, it would be dumb to open that door of craving more, but Miguel always caved as the scent of freshness wafted throughout his apartment in the hours he was alone.

He fell in love with every sugary cookie you conjured with care, and every noodle dish that slowly shifted to recipes he's never heard of.

Why were you doing such things? Miguel would ask himself with a palm dragging over his face, earbuds softly echoing that playlist he can't seem to escape. He was a monster, a tailored man overcome by science. He hated who he became against his will, drowning out such vile insecurities with the nights of being Spiderman 2099.

Muttering under his breath, he swung through the balcony of his apartment with a soft thud, ripping the mask off his face with a relieved sigh.

Miguel felt so disconnected to himself, when he heard a muffled "Miggy..?" reach his ears his blood ran cold and every one of his senses was on fire. He froze, looking around at the home he found himself in– a bit cosier than his one and filled with the most enticing scents. He saw white for just a moment, his legs dead with anxiety as your voice– less groggy and more aware now– continued to try and catch his attention.

This was not his bedroom, which was empty for the most part except essentials, this was your bedroom. And the realization smashing his brain, rattled him to an extent that he felt a whole new kind of fear. Nothing he's ever experienced out in the city, under the guise that he was simply just a superhero. No one truly knew he was a genetically engineered monster, and yet he was so mindless that the truth is now revealed to the one person who put up with him.

Your light graze met his suited shoulder, leading him to sit down on the edge of your bed in his daze. You were silent, he knew that much despite feeling as if he was drowning underwater.

You went to work on patching up the blemishes upon his jaw, most likely a right hook he couldn't dodge in time causing the damage. His attention was in a whole different dimension, but as your free hand led his chin up to your own eyes, an expression you've never seen from his cold exterior crushed every piece of your soul. Miguel was in pain, both physically and mentally.

His eye, which was just finally healing from the other night, twitched ever so slightly as if tears threatened to fall. You never knew he would be so emotional, but obviously there was more to him that meets the eye.

"Why are you doing this, ángel?" He mumbled, scarlet gaze piercing your own. They were hazy, as if he was struggling to stay in the present. He was too caught up in his own mind he began rambling little by little, venom dripping from his tongue when referencing himself. "Soy el diablo reencarnado, I'm a disgusting animal." He spat with tears falling, your gentle fingertips working on both dabbing ointment and his tears away without a word. When the atmosphere was only silence, he couldn't help but express more of what he was thinking.

"I am not what you think I am." He choked down a gasp of air, his hold digging into your sides in desperation. "I don't deserve this kindness, I'm vile. A freak," Tone rough and full of self-depreciation, he kept his head fixated towards you standing between his legs. "All these gifts, delicacies that you've flooded my home with– you've given them away to an absolute freak. Una bestia repugnante. You carded your fingers through his tousled, dampened with sweat curls with a soft smile which almost sent Miguel downward into another spiral of doubt if you hadn't begun talking.

As he subconsciously leaned into your loving pets upon his scalp and fluttering eyes, you couldn't help but utter a nervous laugh with a twisted feeling in your gut.

"Miguel, you stupid, stupid man." You couldn't help but coo, as his eyes peeled open in an instant. But you continued before he could sputter more nonsense.

"I–" You squeezed your eyes shut as nervousness almost halted your advancements, but you pushed through as Miguel's grasp around your hips tightened in his own anticipation. "I've never viewed you as someone disgusting."

"Because you've never been exposed to the truth–"

"Because I just see a man who needs help. A space to feel safe." You sighed, leaning down to his level as your hands trailed from his curls to his cheeks. You held onto his skin with a firm, but loving touch that he practically melted into. A sob erupted through his throat, followed with a purr of comfort.

"You don't think I'm asqueroso? ¿Un error de un hombre?" He murmured, desperation in his voice. Pleading for your validation as if he's waited all his life for this.

You sighed for the millionth time that night, trying to relieve yourself of stress. Before you could stop yourself, Miguel was pulled into your embrace, his head meeting your chest. He snuggled closer, his arms wrapping around your waist without a second thought. Nails tracing shapes through your thin shirt, he breathed in deeply. He basked in the comfort of your smell, choking up at the acceptance he's finally been craving.

Miguel's grown quite attached to you throughout the weeks of your favors as much as he tried to deny the advancements in secret. His head buzzed with the idea of you when his thoughts grew too overwhelming in the dead of night, wishing to hear the melody of your voice that is his only medicine to calm down.

The next words that tumbled from your exasperated lips shocked the both of you.

"I love you."

He almost broke his neck trying to meet your gaze. "¿Qué estás diciendo?" He laughed stiffly, not believing his ears.

You repeat yourself, force beneath your words to try and drill it into his head. "Miguel, I know this is cliche and stupid and unbelievable–"

You breathed in and out, trying to steady yourself to remain level-headed. You wouldn't know what to do if the man you've pined for rejected you.

"I give you my favorite cookies because I keep you in my mind while making them, wishing you were right next to me while I bake." You confessed, cheeks growing hot at finally saying the thought aloud.

"I don't give you lunch everyday because I have some leftover. I do it because I'm worried you're not taking care of yourself enough." You began wiping away his tears as your confessions filled the night air, words he never expected to hear because of who he came to be.

"I do all these things because I'm," You leaned in, bringing your voice to a whisper in fear of getting rejected. "I'm in love with all of you, whether it be the little rambles you find yourself in or the fangs you try to hide from other's eyes. You have consumed my every thought, the favors I did because I was worried turned into favors I wanted to do because of the way your lips quirked up as you held onto the gifts like a lifeline."

Miguel laughed, a real airy laugh that squeezed through his teeth like it pained him. The warmth of his breath fanned your lips as you held his face, and as his tearful gaze darted to your mouth and back to your eyes, you knew exactly what left his tongue next.

"Please.. please can I kiss you, cariño?" It was like a ticking time bomb.

You couldn't even cry out, "yes, please– anything–" before his lips were on yours, heated and sloppy as if he's been thinking about this for weeks. His fingers slipped under your shirt, to knead into the flesh of your sides, dangerously close to the mounds of flesh he rested upon before.

You couldn't help but moan into his mouth, which he eagerly swallowed before wincing as a shock of pain shot through his jaw.

You immediately separated from his lips, a string of saliva left in its wake.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to make you strain yourself–" you began to apologize, before he snatched your face up with frantic carefulness and stole another needy kiss.

This time, the pace was slower, less wild and more sensual. He panted into your mouth, licking into it before finally separating on his own terms before dragging his fangs down your lower lip.

Miguel sighed, forehead resting upon yours as the both of you tried to catch your breath. "Gracias mi ángel. Thank you for showing me, for showing me what I needed."

You nodded, eyes fluttering close in newfound sleepiness. "Stay the night, please." You couldn't help but ask, and Miguel took the offer the moment it escaped your thoughts.

"Let me go get a change of clothes–" He gestured at the suit he was still wearing, "and I'll be back before you know it, cariño."

Laughing and giving him one last peck, you sent him off on his way. "If you don't come back, you're going to be missing out on some homemade pancakes in the morning." You teased, pride swelling when you caught his soft flustered chuckle.

"I would never miss such an offer for the world." Was the last thing Miguel purred before tugging his mask on in one swoop and jumping from your balcony.

The last thing you remember as sleep began to take over was the divet next to you in the bundle of blankets and sheets; a pair of marred arms pulling you into a warm chest. Breath fanning your ear, Miguel's own sleepy whisper lulled you to sleep.

"I love you more." He murmured, "absolutely adore you cariño."

#miguel o'hara #into the spider verse #across the spiderverse #miguel o'hara x reader #spiderman 2099 #miguel o'hara comfort #x gender neutral reader #x comfort #comfort #x reader #angst #miguel o'hara angst

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atarathegreat · 6 months

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I'm On My Knees!

Groveling was below him. Sanzu on his knees? Never in a million years would he fall so pathetically before someone. Strength was woven into his ties, pride worn in the bright hue of his pink suits, and the tag on each article was named perfectly as 'Cocky.' Women and men alike fell to the ground in front of him, pleading and begging, whether for his mercy or his cock was debatable. On days where he wasn't quite feeling well enough, and his pills couldn't boost him, the image of you on your knees for him was intoxicating enough to make him smile. The way he'd tangle your hair around his digits, and jerk you around to look at him, the way your pupils filled your irises with need and whatever drug he'd managed to slip past your tongue, it was all too perfect.

So why was he crawling after you as you did chores around the house? Why had you denied him, month after month, the taste of your body? How had you turned the craziest man in Tokyo into a whining, begging, pleaded mess?

It was simple; Sanzu had upset you.

More than once he'd taken you to whatever club he was having a meeting at just for you to catch the way women hung from him as you wandered around, more than once had Ran and Rindou had to escort you back to him because he'd swallowed another pill and found himself in the center of club strippers. You'd had enough, told him that if he wanted to taste something then he could go to the whores he paid. But Sanzu craved you. Craved the way your cunt tasted, the softness of your breasts, the way your breaths hitched. No one else smelled, tasted, sounded or felt the way you did, and he wouldn't have them. He wanted you. "Please, babydoll, just tonight!" Sanzu sounded like the pathetic women that wanted him, and yet it was him this time asking to get you off on his mouth. "You'll love it, I know you will, just let me have it."

He wrapped his slender hands around your legs, his fingers trailing up to your clothed core. A loud smack rang out through the living room, his hand falling back with a pout as you slapped him. "No, I already told you to go to your whores." It pissed him off that you were being so cold to him, and yet he couldn't help but beg for you.

"Please, baby, just a taste, a lick. I'll be gentle, please." His blue eyes were sad, glazed over and dilated, but not in the sense that he had taken anything, you could tell. A heavy breath flared your nostrils, "You don't deserve it." He nipped at your thigh, trailing his teeth up to your hips, "C'mon, take it as an apology! Just let me help you make those sweet little sounds." Sanzu was borderline humping your leg, his hardened length ignored by his conscious, "Please, it's killing me, babydoll. I need to hear you."

You always gave in so easily to him, and now that he was pleading for the first time ever, you surely folded. How couldn't you when it was always you with tears in your eyes as he denied yet another orgasm, begging for him to let you cum. You sighed and placed your palm under his chin to steady his face, "You will not let another woman hang from your arms, understood? I don't care if it's her job to try and seduce you, and I don't care if you have to slap her around."

Sanzu nodded quickly, so quickly you thought you might hear his brain slamming back and forth, "I'll shove them back by their big ass foreheads."

The second you laughed at his words he knew he had you. Standing tall with his arms wrapped just under your ass cheeks, he hurriedly stomped back to your shared room. He wanted his baby to be comfortable, it was an apology after all. There was no time to tease you, to make you fall apart like he was. Sanzu was too wrapped up in the idea of digging his tongue deep into you, feeling the way your insides pulsed against his intrusion and finally being able to taste just how sweet you were.

"Fuck, I'm sorry." His grin was devilishly wide, staring at your panties as he threw your pants aside, "Don't ever hold this from me again."

You relaxed for Sanzu as he wrapped your ankles around his neck, his hands coming down to hold your ass so you couldn't squirm away from him. He flattened his tongue against your panties, letting his saliva soak up before he sucked it all back, moaning as he earned the muted taste of your juices. Sanzu's fingers rolled the fabric around itself as he pulled the panties from your legs and tucked them in his pants pocket, "So pretty, so delicious." Another moan vibrated your core, making you reply in kind, and Sanzu drank it up. Every sound you made was music, as if a dove was perched on his shoulder.

A heavy growl rumbled his chest as your muscles clenched around his tongue. Your moans and whimpers were sweet to his ears, and the taste of you was better than any pill he'd ever carried under his tongue. The plush of your thighs tightened around his ears, his favorite winter accessory as he called them, and it only urged him to go deeper.

"Sanzu!" The way his name left your mouth was fuel to the fire, and he didn't bother to correct you as you grabbed his hair. Why should he decide the terms of the apology? You had to accept it, so you had to like it. He rubbed his nose against your clit, breathing as deeply as he could to savor your scent. God, he wanted you cum all over his lips so he could taste you for days.

Shaking fingers walked up your ribs until they pushed your bra off your tits, giving him full reign to swirl his index finger around your nipple, pinching it lightly when you arched your perfect body on his mouth. Sanzu wanted to praise you, to let you know how good you were being, but it wasn't his place. You were in control for the time being.

He blew cold air on your clit, making you hiss and tighten your grip on his hair, "Faster, please Sanzu, go faster." Any other day he would've actually made you beg for him, but he needed to taste you, needed to feel you gush all over him. So he did as he was told, bumping his nose firmly into your bud while delving as deep as his tongue could go. Your whines reached a feverish crescendo, your thighs so tight around his head he almost couldn't hear you. Which was fine by him, he wanted to feel you more than anything.

For a man who knew he was going to hell, he felt like he was in heaven when you spasmed around him, your hold clenching tightly to him as he rubbed your insides gently. "Does my baby forgive me?" He licked his lips, using his thumb to catch any he might've missed.

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aphrodisiaxcunt · 20 days

Text

Fading echoes Finale

Keegan x GN!reader

Helping Keegan relax a bit as a way of bringing your relationship back closer together..🤭

Content: Finale, soft smut, cock suckin', fluff, happy ending, mention of past trauma and therapy

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, this is FINALE

If links dont work use masterlist

Keegan red, reader green

Word count: 991 Reading time: 4-5~ mins

After the crying on your hallway floor, you two decided couples therapy would be good. At first, Keegan thought it was all stupid - the tasks and games you'd have to participate in each session. However, it began to have a positive impact. He started to feel better, and your relationship started to improve. Recently, Keegan had become more clingy and protective of you, always keeping his arms around you, whether you were asleep or awake. As long as he is in the same room, you can feel his arms tightly wrapped around you. A couple of nights into the therapy sessions, you'd noticed his night terrors. Every night, they'd progressively get worse, and your worry for him only grew each time. You couldn't do much in that situation. Just let him work his way to you. One time, you had tried to wake him up, and he had nearly broken your nose. Today, though, today was a calm day. Neither of you had work, no chores to do, and almost half of the day had already gone to just laying in bed together. Keegans arms per usual wrapped tightly around your waist as he drew circles with his fingers against your lower back. Your head laid calmly against his chest, listening to the soft thumps of his heart against his ribcage.

"I'm sorry, sweetheart.." his quiet voice above your head breaks the silence, moving his hand up your back to pull you closer to himself. You shake your head a bit against his chest, wrapping your arms tightly around him in response to his embrace. You didn't blame him, of course you didn't blame him. You had also been close with a couple of the men he knew who had sadly passed away in different fights. "It's okay, I understand.." Your voice is soothing and smooth like honey, your hand tracing gently up and down his spine. You heard a shuddering breath escape his throat as you did so, tilting your head back to take a look at him blushing. "Fuck-.." his small mutter of a cuss was easy to translate. You couldn't deny that it had been a while since either of you had any kind of release.

You sat up and leaned down to kiss Keegans neck, his body automatically turning onto his back. His hand caresses your thigh as your lips work their way up to his jaw. His fingers dig into your thigh when you lift up his shirt to kiss his chest and down his torso to his lower stomach. "Baby- hah-..please.." he can't get much out from his lips, his whining like music in your ears when he begs for you. You start to gently palm his hard-on through his grey sweats, and his back arches off the bed in a desperate way of seeking more contact. More quiet whines fal from his lips, and you hush him, planting a track of gentle kisses along his happy trail. You slowly pull his sweats down to free his cock, Keegans hand coming up to his own face to cover his mouth.

You wrap your hand around the base of his cock, holding it up to your lips before kissing the tip carefully, kissing your way down the side of it and licking your way back up. Keegans breath hitches in his throat, and his neck tilts back, eyes closing as you take his attention deprived cock into your mouth. The taste isn't unpleasant. You've never been one to prefer blowjobs but if your partner, the love of your life, really needed it.. there's no issue in your eyes. Looking up at his flushed face from under your lashes, you start your careful work on him, making sure your teeth don't graze him and pressing your tongue flat against the underside of his cock.

His free hand takes a grab on a fistful of your hair, not forcing your head down on him but more of a support for him. Your eyes lock on his beautiful face as you take more of his length down your throat and slowly bob your head on it. His tongue seems tied, not being able to say anything except for small babbles and attempts at praise. You take a deep breath through your nose, trying to keep your eyes open and focused on him as you bottom him out to the back of your throat, holding a gag reflex down as you do so. He lets out a gasp before turning his eyes to you, seeing warm tears form in your eyes from suppressing the gag reflex. His hand leaves his mouth, cupping your cheek and wiping off the tears once they fall down your face.

"Careful sweetheart, no need to take the whole thing.." his voice is more collected now, guiding your face a bit up so you're not suffocating yourself on him. He mutters out more praises when your tongue slides up over his tip, closing his eyes and caressing your cheek lovingly. "You're doing so well.. I'm so close, baby.." he groans, you close your eyes and turn all your attention and focus on getting him over the edge. He grips a bit more onto your hair, pulling you off of his cock before cumming onto your face. Your head jerks back a bit, and you open your eyes in shock. Immediately, you turn your look back onto him, mouth slightly agape from the bitter surprise on your face. His mouth curves into a teasing smile as he starts laughing, chuckling out apologies as he wipes your face from the mess.

After getting your face cleaned and washed up, you're back cuddling in his arms. He still lets out small chuckles when he remembers your shocked face, and each time he laughs, he places a loving kiss on your forehead as an apology. There's still a long way ahead for you two and your relationship, but there's no other way from here than up.

■☆■☆■☆■☆■☆■☆■☆■☆■☆■☆■☆■☆■

FINALLY, I am done with this, I'm so sorry I took so damn long I was stuck forever on how to finish this finale and then I fell asleep last night, I hope this was a satisfying ending to this fic and I'm so thankful for all the love this series got :3

If yall want more stuff my requests are open and my instagram @aphrodisiax_tumblr will have updates on upcoming fics!

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autonomoustoybox · 4 months

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Do you ever think about how jarring it must have been, for the Turaga, to see the Matoran doing their work after the move to Mata Nui?

Like... Think about it. Metru Nui was a very, very rigid caste system. Everyone was made for a role, they'd fulfil that role, they wouldn't change from that role for thousands of years. And more pertinently, those roles were largely academic, borne of a highly developed civilisation. Then, you get to Mata Nui, and suddenly everything changed. Everyone just lost all of their memories, and with that a huge amount of their identities, and their previous roles with it. In fact, many of their roles are just outright nonexistent, in a world of stone and wood, with no city, with no Metrus, with nothing that the Turaga would have known. Indeed, Matau's first reaction to Mata Nui was "Where are the chutes?"!

Obviously, the Matoran could adapt - a blank slate can easily have anything imprinted onto it, after all, and they were made to work - but for the Turaga, who were watching their warped, diminished friends and kinsmen who sounded the same as before but acted perhaps very differently, and already had to suffer through the lie of concealing Metru Nui, it must have been bizarre in a way 'suffocating' couldn't possibly describe.

Imagine being Vakama, a craftsman among a city of crafters, who only ever made armour, being forced to see his fellow forgemates sharpen blades and call themselves a guard, a militia, an army, hunters and killers. Imagine much the same of Matau, who once spent his time driving new machines down clear tracks with his kin, now having to make do with tempermental Rahi in a twisting maze of branches and vines.

Imagine being Nokama or Nuju, who spent all their life prior as academics, pouring through tomes and staring at stars, watching as those untold millenia of knowledge simply disappear, to be replaced with hard physical chores like fishing or crafting or, indeed, fighting off Rahi. Imagine the same of Whenua, who once spent all his time studying creatures brought to him, now only providing the knowledge to make them go away, as the the scholars of all the Rahi life of the universe spend their days digging through the earth with pickaxes (not even drilling machines)!

Certainly, these are necessary roles, duties to be honoured and fulfilled to a a standard high enough to ensure continued life, but... In some ways, it must have been utterly humiliating. Sickening, even, to some.

Not to Onewa though. Pretty much nothing changed for him.

------------------------------------------------------------------------

This train of thought brought to you by the new Essenger remake of the Mata Nui Online Game II Soundtrack, specifically https://youtu.be/MAierT0S82o?si=XB9s03CUTCRubFOn . I never played much of it, but I distinctly remembered Hali being a weaver, creating thread from flax fibres; which, given the hindsight of Ga-Metru being a giant university/research centre, makes the role seem strangely small in comparison to her duties before. Of course, now she's a Toa, I suppose she doesn't have time much for either!

[Edit: I posted this at midnight when I was falling alseep and totally got the names of Onewa, Nuparu, and Whenua muddled up... This happens a lot even when I'm fully awake though. Edited for clarity.]

#bionicle #bionicles #hahli #matoran #turaga #this obviously isn't a diss to menial/physical labour #those are good jobs to have of course #the matoran of metru nui tended to be pretty classist tho #so they likely would have found offence at the change in some way I think

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tarotwithlove · 1 year

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18+ only ⋆ messages from your future spouse

reminder that this is a general reading and messages found here may not apply to everyone. take what resonates, leave what doesn't, and don't force anything if it does not fit

BOOK A READING WITH ME · TWITTER · TIPS ♡ tips and feedback are highly appreciated

☆ GROUP ONE

cards pulled ⋆ ten of wands (rx), king of pentacles, four of pentacles (rx), the tower, the hierophant

channelled songs ⋆ closer by nine inch nails · geyser by mitski · holy terrain by fka twigs

“i don't understand how it happened. how someone as pure as you could ever let someone like me touch you, let alone be the first to touch you.

i think about that time so often... the anxious look in your eyes and the way you held onto me, so tight and only tighter the further i pushed inside you. your nails digging into me. marking me as yours.

nobody trusted me like you did in that moment. nobody's trusted me like that since.

you've made this old man very happy, do you know that? it's a happiness i never expected to feel in my wildest dreams, let alone every day of every year we've been together.

you came to me like a baby bird. stumbling. unsure of anything related to sex but eager anyways.

you pushed me to become a better lover–to go outside of my comfort zone in order to keep up with that insane sex drive of yours. and i've enjoyed every moment of it. playing teacher. playing student. playing as whatever you want just to see that smile on your face. you've made me confident... not only as a lover, but as a person...

i could go through every day knowing i have someone back home who wanted me as desperately, as passionately, as i wanted them. who dug into me every night and left tear stains on my skin from how good they were enjoying me. who only i could satisfy”

☆ GROUP TWO

cards pulled ⋆ seven of wands, justice (rx), the fool, four of wands, death (rx), nine of wands (rx)

channelled songs ⋆ bambi by baekhyun · off to the races by lana del rey · eighteen (end of my world) by key

“who knew a random hook-up would lead us where we are. this beautiful relationship. this marriage.

i find myself wondering, though, when it all started to go wrong... when did the spark die... i don't love you any less, and i know that you don't love me any less, but when did sex start to feel like a chore? when did it get so mechanical?

to the point where at times neither of us even orgasm. i miss how it used to be, when we were driven by love as much as by passion. this insane passion that only you could quench in me.

you've become so closed off from me. you don't look me in the eye when we have sex and turn away from me as soon as it's over. i don't want that anymore. i miss you. i miss us. i miss the sex that we used to have.

i sit across from you and want to ask you to try something new. to even consider it. handcuffs. strap-ons. sex therapy. anything to bring some kind of excitement back into our sex life.

but i bite my tongue.

i'm scared that your issue is with me. that the sex is so empty and unfulfilling because you don't desire me anymore–that you don't desire this body that has seen so much and changed so much from the body you fell in love with.”

☆ GROUP THREE

cards pulled ⋆ temperance (rx), the fool, ace of swords (rx), seven of pentacles (rx), page of swords

channelled songs ⋆ time lapse by nct 127 · i didn't mean to fall in love by snoh aalegra · cough it out by the front bottoms

“i became consumed by you, by love and passion for you. there was something in me that lay dormant until i met you, and ever since you awakened it all i could think about is how to satisfy it.

i've spent the years of our marriage falling deeper and deeper in love with you. wanting you more as each day passes.

i never thought i could have this with anyone but looking back it makes sense that i have this with you. you're my best friend. you're the only person who i can share my burdens with. who i trust to take control in the bedroom. when we have sex i know i can put it all in your hands. give it all up to you and come out with the both of us not just satisfied but experiencing pure bliss.

you've opened my mind to so many things. the fluidity of my own sexuality and gender. the limitless depths of the pleasure we can share.

we've explored so much together and whether it's you between my legs or me between yours, whether it's with a camera trained on us or the blindfold you lovingly tie around my eyes, i know i'm going to enjoy it.

you're on my mind all the time. the taste of you on my tongue for hours. and im not happy until i come home to you at the end of the day.

i'm so in love with you, to the point of weakness.”

☆ GROUP FOUR

cards pulled ⋆ seven of cups (rx), the tower, page of pentacles (rx), judgement, eight of wands

channelled songs ⋆ all up in your mind by beyoncé · digital get down by *nsync · amusement park by baekhyun

“my love, my lust for you may have cooled down in the years we have been together but it has never disappeared. and it never will.

you're the only one for me, and you know it. the only person who can satisfy me. the only person who can truly fulfill me (and fill me). to me, you're the embodiment of sexual energy. and after all these years, i still don't entirely know how to deal with it.

one sniff of your perfume, one whisper of your breath against my neck, one word spoken in your voice, and i'm ready to abandon everything i'm doing to have you drag me to bed. or the couch. or the floor. anywhere, as long as i get to have you.

you still don't seem to realise the effect you have on me. and that only makes me want you more.

and sometimes i think i don't fully understand the effect i have on you either. when you look at me with hungry eyes, as if you want to devour me. as if the very thought of separating after we have sex upsets you. ruins your mood.

i've never felt so seen, so understood, so loved than when i'm in your arms and you look at me like that.

i want to bare my neck to you and tell you to bite me as hard as you can. to just mark me as yours. but it's so ridiculous and redundant. i've never been anybody elses, not really, and neither have you.”

#**#minors dni #tarot #18+ tarot #pac #pick a card #pick a picture #pick a pile #pick an image #tarotblr #witchblr #tarot reading #tarot community #tarotcommunity

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depressedstressedlemonzest · 6 months

Text

Hay It's Getting Cold Out

“The fuck?” Ian’s words stumbled from his lips as he walked into the apartment to find straw littering all over the kitchen floor.

Mickey’s head peeked up from behind the kitchen island and he ducked back down.

“Mickey why does our apartment look like a barn?” Ian walked over to the kitchen island and found Mickey on his knees surrounded by straw and plastic storage bins.

“I’ll clean it up.” Mickey muttered as he picked a knife up and jammed it into the bin, sawing a square into it before punching it through.

“What are you doing?” Ian asked trying not to sound accusatory but not being sure if he was succeeding.

Mickey paused and looked up at Ian, “It’s getting cold out, it's going to get colder this weekend, like below twenty degrees out.”

Ian raised an eyebrow, “Yeah, and we live in Chicago, this happens a lot in the fall and winter.”

“Well, I wanted to do something for Clawdia, but everything I was looking at was super expensive. But then I found this do it yourself thing and it would only cost about ten bucks.”

“Claudia?”

Mickey grimaced, “Clawdia, the cat that has the missing leg that hangs out around the pool in the summer.”

“You named her Clawdia?”

Mickey groaned, “Yes I named her, yes I’ve been feeding her, and no I don’t want her to get cold this winter, so I’m making her this cat house. But when I went to ordered the straw to get delivered I thought a bale was only like a pound or two, turns out it’s a fuckton. So I’m making more than one for any of Clawdia’s friends that get cold this winter and want a nice warm box.”

Ian felt his lips curve up in a smile, “That’s so s-”

“Fuck off Gallagher.” Mickey huffed sinking back down to keep sawing at the plastic bin.

“You know if you wanted a cat-”

Mickey groaned, “Fuck OFF.”

Ian looked at the mess and shook his head, he went to the bedroom and put his phone on the charger before digging into the closet and grabbing another knife from the closet.

He came back into the kitchen and sunk onto the floor across from Mickey.

Mickey eyed him as he grabbed another one of the storage bins and stabbed the knife into the side before sawing a line into it.

Ian glanced up at Mickey and grinned as he sawed the square out of the bin and punched it through.

Together they made six cat shelters, even with each one stuffed full of hay they still had a good amount left over.

“How about we go to the hardware store and get some wood? Make a big shelter for the rest of the hay?” Ian suggested when they finished sweeping and bagging the remainder of the straw up from the kitchen floor.

“I didn’t want to make it a big project.” Mickey sighed tying the bag up and shoving it aside.

“I know, but I’m sure we can budget it enough to make it work, besides what else would we use the hay for?” Ian asked with a laugh.

Mickey smirked, “Well, there is that fantasy about doing it in the loft of a barn in the hay.”

Ian’s laugh slipped from his face and he looked at his husband sternly, “We are NOT putting that hay in our bed.”

Mickey laughed reaching up and cupping Ian’s face with his hands, “C’mon Carrot Farmer, you know you need to make sure the stable hand is doing the chores.”

Ian let Mickey pull him into a kiss before gripping his wrists gently, “No way. Now let’s get these ones out to Clawdia before it does get cold out.”

Mickey rolled his eyes, “Spoil sport.”

“Well we couldn’t have done that at a better time.” Ian muttered as he looked at the picture Mickey had sent him.

Clawdia the three legged cat in one of the shelter boxes with four little puffy kittens around her.

“You know, that extra room we have would make a good nursery.” Mickey mused over the phone.

“No way.” Ian’s voice was firm, but when he looked at that photo again he felt his heart melting.

“Only Clawdia, and only her kittens. And once they’re all old enough we’re getting them all fixed.”

“Glad you’re agreeable because I already brought them inside. And since we still had that hay I took out the drawers of the dresser and put some in each.”

#based on the stray cats and the kittens outside my apartment #who we all just want to bring inside and shelter #and we're all sneak feeding them around the cameras that the landlord put out to catch us because he's a dick #gallavich #mickey milkovich #ian gallagher #gallavich fanfic #ian gallagher loves mickey milkovich #shameless #mickey milkovich loves ian gallagh

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dameronscopilot · 1 year

Note

Hi love!!!! As you know I had a ✨day✨

When you have time, and if you’d like, could I request where reader is sad and Santi takes her mind off things (surprise, it’s with his dick)

Ily!!!

BAAABE this really got away from me. It took on a mind of its own. Enjoy xoxo

trust me

Santiago "Pope" Garcia x f!reader

Summary: You're feeling downtrodden after an unexpected breakup, and your best friend Santiago has a theory about your lackluster sex life. And so he takes matters into his own hands—literally.

Word Count: 2.6k

Rating: 18+ EXPLICIT

Content: NSFW, smut, fingering, oral sex (f!receiving), unprotected p in v, friends to lovers, the magic of clitoral stimulation!, (and the magic of Santi's fingers and his fat dick, let's be real)

“He said what?”

You wrapped the blanket tighter around yourself as you stared at the television screen, and though you weren’t looking at him, you could visualize the dumbfounded expression on Santiago's face. Groaning, you wiped a hand down your face and repeated yourself, “He said sex with me is too much of a chore, because I don’t even come most of the time.”

Your skin prickled with embarrassment as you said the words. Santiago may have been your best friend, and the two of you shared plenty between one another, but there was something unbearably mortifying about openly admitting to him that your boyfriend had broken up with you because the sex was bad.

Following the bomb that Jackson had unceremoniously dropped on you yesterday—via text message, no less—you’d cancelled your plans with Santiago and the boys for that evening, choosing instead of wallow in self-pity on your couch. He’d caught you entirely off guard with his declaration, cutting deep into your insecurities as he swept the rug out from under you, brashly tainting all traces of the happiness you’d felt over the course of the past year with him with a shamefully sour edge.

Given that it was unlike you to cancel plans last minute, your phone had lit up more than a few times throughout the night with texts from Santiago. Your responses to him were uncharacteristically lackluster—you'd hardly even laughed at the photo he’d sent of Benny frowning with a lap full of spilled nachos.

Though you had no misconceptions that he would have been getting down on one knee anytime soon, you’d thought things between you and Jackson were going well, all things considered. You’d opened yourself up to him in a way that you hadn’t with anyone in quite some time, and so realizing just how far off your perception of your relationship may have been sent you into a tailspin of self-loathing. In a way, you felt uncomfortably exposed now as you mentally thumbed through each and every rose-tinted moment that may not have been quite as happy and content as you’d previously thought.

After spending a restless night tossing and turning with a lump of sadness lodged deep in your throat, you’d sent Santiago another weak excuse to cancel your previously scheduled lunch plans. Clearly knowing you far too well, he’d stubbornly shown up at your door an hour later with takeout food. And though he’d allowed you to muddle through the conversation half-heartedly as you listlessly poked at the vegetables inside of the styrofoam container in front of you, once you pushed it aside onto the coffee table and tucked your bare toes back under the blanket you were wrapped up in on the couch, he’d verbally cornered you as he asked what was going on.

As if your years-long, one-sided crush on the man currently staring at you with his lips slightly parted in confusion wasn’t enough of a burden weighing on the back of your mind on any given day. Now, you’d gone and done yourself the favor of digging that stupid little fantasy its own grave, going so far as to bury yourself in it as you shared the sordid details of your lackluster sex life.

Santiago let out a huff of air and crossed his arms, staring at you consideringly for a few moments, and you squirmed under the weight of his assessing gaze.

“What?” you finally asked, tone full of exasperation.

“I doubt you were the problem,” he replied, furrowing his brows as he ran a hand over his jaw.

Well, you were already in this deep, might as well start chiseling away at the damn gravestone, too. Your face felt hot as you mumbled, “This wouldn’t be the first time that I’ve had…difficulty.”

Tilting his head to the side, Santiago rested a hand on his thigh, one finger tapping against his knee. “Do you trust me?” he asked suddenly.

Confused, you nodded. “Of course…?”

Santiago scooted his way across the couch, his body heat encroaching on the cushion that you were perched on. Biting his lip, he said, “Okay, but do you fully trust me?”

Still clueless as to what he was getting at, you reassured him, “Yes, Santi. I trust you.”

“Take off the blanket,” he said evenly, eyes darting down to the plush material gathered around you.

You shrugged it off, letting it fall to the floor. And although he’d seen you in the same outfit countless times, you still felt self-conscious as you revealed the baggy t-shirt and sweatpants you’d slept in the night before.

Seemingly distracted for a moment, he commented, “I was wondering where that shirt went.”

Looking down, your stomach lurched as you realized that in your sad, listless state, you’d opted for the familiar comfort of a shirt that he’d forgotten at your house months ago. Though an awkward apology danced on the tip of your tongue, it dissipated as you glanced back at Santi to find him smiling at you softly.

Instead, your mouth mirrored his as you pointedly said, “Finders, keepers.”

Santi chuckled, and you found it difficult not to let the richness of the sound tickle its way down your spine.

His face grew serious again. “I have a theory.”

“And what would that be?”

“That you’ve just never been with someone who knows what they’re doing.”

You nearly choked on your own spit. “What?”

Santi carried on calmly, “Some guys like to think they can just shove their dick in there and call it a day.”

Running a finger over a small hole that was starting to form near the ankle of your sweatpants, you asked, “So what does this have to do with me trusting you?”

And as if his next words weren’t about to rock your fucking world, he clarified, “Because I think you should know what it feels like to be with someone who does know what they’re doing.”

Your jaw went slack as you stared at Santiago, whose face was an earnest portrait of sincerity as he leaned one arm against the back of the couch and waited for your response.

“You want to…” you trailed off, not sure if you could say the words out loud, as if doing so would make you wake up from whatever goddamn hallucination you were currently in the middle of experiencing.

“It doesn’t have to change anything between us. And if you don’t want to, we can act like this conversation never happened,” he assured you.

“Yes,” you blurted out, far more eager than you had meant to sound.

"Yes, you want to, or yes, you want me to fuck off?”

You covered your mouth with your hand, voice slightly muffled as you spoke through your fingers. “I want to.”

The corners of Santiago’s mouth lifted. “Good.”

Of all the things you were expecting, the last was for Santiago to slide off the couch and kneel on the floor in front of you. He pulled at your legs until you unfurled them from where they were tucked under your body, letting them swing toward the ground. Your fingers pressed into the fabric of the cushions as his hands reached for the waistband of your pants, and he waited until you nodded to pull them—and your underwear—off, leaving you in nothing but his t-shirt. Grasping your hips, he pulled you toward the edge of the couch and spread your legs open wide.

Despite how many times you’d imagined variations of this scenario, nothing compared to the feeling of Santiago’s firm grip on your legs as his fingers skated up your inner thighs. There was an unreadable expression on his face as he looked back up at you once before turning his attention to the pool of moisture already coating your slit.

“Well, clearly you have no issues getting wet,” he commented mildly, running a finger through your folds, and you shivered. He slowly slipped his finger inside of your entrance, and your toes began to curl. You swore you heard him groan appreciatively as he added, “Really fucking wet, Christ.”

You let your head fall back against the couch, your legs spreading even wider of their own accord as he dipped another finger into your cunt.

“Fuck, Santi,” you whined, unable to keep the words trapped behind your teeth.

Pumping his fingers in and out of your damp channel, his voice dropped an octave as he asked, “Does this feel good?”

“Yeah,” you breathed out, panted. “Yeah, it does.”

“Now how about this?” he asked, stroking his thumb across your clit.

“Oh fuck,” you whimpered, your hips bucking up into his touch at the steady feeling of pressure on your sensitive bundle of nerves while he continued to fuck you with his fingers, stretching you further by adding a third.

“And this?” he questioned again, before pulling his fingers out of your soaked canal and ducking his head down between your legs.

You were helpless to tamper down the shameless, keening moan that left you as Santiago’s tongue swiped through your crevice, prodding its way inside of your entrance. As he chuckled in response, the sound reverberated through his mouth, the vibrations causing you to arch your back up off of the cushions.

“Holy shit,” you choked out, tension coiling in your gut as his thumb stroked your throbbing clit while his tongue lapped at you with slow, broad strokes before delving back inside of you.

Santi’s voice sounded rough as he groaned against your entrance, “You taste so fucking good.”

You didn’t miss the way he reached down to press the heel of his palm against the front of his pants, and the next words left your mouth before you could stop yourself. “I want you to fuck me, Santi.”

Santi’s breath hitched in his throat, and his nose brushed against your clit as he looked up at you, lips glossy with your slick arousal. “Come for me first, and I will.”

He dove back into your pussy with fervor, eating you out hungrily. The ache between your thighs continued to grow, the lewd, wet sounds of his mouth on your cunt like gasoline on the raging fire in your abdomen. And as he plunged two fingers back inside of you while his mouth closed firmly over your swollen clit, your legs trembled with the force of the orgasm that punched through you.

As waves of pleasure petered out through your boneless limbs, Santi continued to slowly lavish your cunt with his tongue, lapping up each and every last bit of the juices dripping out of you. Feeling emboldened by the matching groans of pleasure that fell from Santiago’s lips, you reached down, tangling your hands in his curls and pulling slightly.

He surged upward, and you kept your grip on him, tugging his mouth against yours. Still sticky with your release, he kissed you tentatively at first, but as you tilted your head and parted your lips, his mouth engulfed yours as his tongue darted between your teeth. You could taste yourself on him as he licked his way into your mouth, and at the feeling of his erection pressing against you, you rocked up into him.

You reached out for him, squeezing his length through the denim before fumbling with the button and zipper of his pants. His head dropped onto your shoulder as you tugged his shaft out of his boxers, fingers wrapping around his thick length.

“I need you, Santi,” you panted out as his teeth latched down onto the junction between your shoulder and your neck, biting down and sucking on your skin.

Santiago shucked off his pants and boxers, cock flush, hard, and leaking between his legs, and he shifted you so that you were lying flat across the cushions. Climbing on top of you, he toyed with the frayed hem of your shirt as he wrapped a hand around his shaft and slowly stroked it.

He leaned down, pressing a chaste kiss to your mouth before dragging his lips across the side of your face and nipping at your earlobe.

His breath was hot against the shell of your ear as he murmured, “Now I’m going to make you come on my cock.”

You let one leg drape over the edge of the couch as he lined himself up with your entrance, shivering as he wiped the head of his shaft through your sensitive folds. He rested one hand beside your head as he hovered over top of you, eyes boring down into yours as he eased his length inside of you, both of you groaning at the stretch of your tight channel over his thick girth.

You instinctively wrapped your legs around his waist as he plunged deeper inside, balls pressed against your ass when he finally bottomed out. Slowly, he began to move, and you continued to leak with arousal at the feeling of Santiago dragging his cock through the fluttering grasp of your hot core.

“You’re so fucking tight,” he uttered as he began to plunge in and out of you at a quicker pace, and you bucked up into him to meet each thrust. “So fucking perfect. You just need someone who knows how to take care of you.”

There was a fluttering in your chest at the implication, and you gasped at the feeling of his fingers brushing against the sensitive bundle of nerves between your legs once more.

“This is what you do when you touch yourself, right?” he asked, stroking your clit.

You nodded as you cried out in pleasure at the pressure he’d applied there.

“And I bet he didn’t even bother touching you here while he fucked you, did he?”

You shook your head. No man that you’d slept with had ever bothered to try offering you any sort of clitoral stimulation, and for whatever reason, it had felt wrong and insulting to try snaking your own hand between your legs with a dick buried inside of you.

Santiago tsked. “If only I’d known…”

Your stomach swooped with butterflies that almost felt out of place in contrast with the way Santi’s balls were slapping against your ass as he pounded into you.

“What would you have done?” you queried, breathing hard.

Santi leaned in, brushing his lips against yours as he uttered, “I wouldn’t have spent so much time just imagining this.”

You gasped into the kiss as he buried himself inside of you as deeply as he could, splitting your tight cunt open on his fat cock with as much force as he could muster, and you nearly wailed at the delicious stretch, your nerves positively on fire.

“Now come for me, cariño. Please, come for me,” Santi choked out, his own hips stuttering as you began to tremble and fall apart beneath him.

You cried out his name as you came undone, a dam of pleasure bursting inside of you as he pushed you over the edge, your vision nearly going white with the force of the orgasm that rocked through you.

Santi jackhammered his shaft into your channel, a strangled noise leaving his throat when he reached his own peak. He frantically pulled his cock out of you and pushed up your shirt, his hot, sticky seed splashing all over your stomach.

He leaned sideways against the couch, running a hand through his hair, chest heaving, cock hanging heavily between his legs. After a beat of silence, he remarked with a glint in his eye, “So my theory was right?”

You ran a finger across your lower lip, and Santi’s eyes intently tracked the movement.

“I don’t know,” you shrugged. “I think we might need to run some more tests, just to be sure.”

Santiago grinned, leaning down to kiss you again. "I agree."

—

Comments, reblogs, and/or asks are always appreciated!

» OSCAR ISAAC MASTERLIST » SANTIAGO GARCIA MASTERLIST

#answers from the cockpit #triple frontier fanfiction #triple frontier #santiago garcia #santiago garcia smut #santiago garcia x reader #oscar isaac fanfiction #dee writes

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onsunnyside · 1 year

Text

Here it is !! Flamingo King snippet for part 7, originally from part 6 but moved to the epilogue/bonus chapter 🦩❤️‍🔥 I’ve never loved a fic this much and am so thankful for all of your support !! I hope you all enjoy 🥰🫶

“Hey, sugar, you know you don’t gotta knock.”

“I just thought it would only be fair for tonight.” You shyly hold out a bouquet of flowers, vibrant red and yellow tulips from the best florist in the city. “These are for you. I was thinkin’ we could stop by the bakery after dinner? They brought back your favourite pie and I told them to save us a good one.”

Ari stands there for a moment, looking between you and the flowers. Then, he slaps the door, “awh shit, that was today? I thought—” he groans, “I thought it was tomorrow, Friday right?”

“Today is Friday.”

“Shit.” He curses, “The Den has been a fuckin’ zoo with all the college kids being back in town, my brain is fried and my eyes fuckin’ hurt from staring at a screen all day. Aside from bartending, Curtis has us doing all this paperwork and—” he shoulders sag, “nevermind. No need to be standing out there, come in, baby.”

The light flickers on and you can finally see him properly.

Eyeglasses are on the tip of his nose, his hair is messy and pulled out of his face with a small clip, one you recognize from your small vanity at home. His normally glowy skin is dull and tired, and dark bags make his eyes appear sunken into his face.

You’ve seen him dishevelled, but nothing this exhausted.

He’s still as pretty as ever, but just so terribly tired.

“Give me a few minutes, I’ll get ready quickly.” Then he’s off to his bedroom, abandoning his laptop and coffee table cluttered with dirty dishes, and plenty of papers.

A blanket and pillow that used to occupy his big, comfy bed are on the couch, along with a spare t-shirt and a pair of sweatpants. His record player is off, no slow rock song filling his trailer like usually.

You hear several slams and bangs before peeking into his bedroom and it’s a mess, far worse than the living room. Clothes skewed over his bed, the laundry bin overflowing and more stacks of empty dishes on his nightstands, although outnumbered by takeout containers.

Ever since you met Ari, he took pride in his spotless home and kept his things organized. He was diligent with weekly cleans, and often reminded you of laundry day so you could do your chores together.

It’s been quite wild for you too from sports season and the rush of people coming in after school or work. Even Andy had to hire new staff just to keep up with the hoard of customers.

Despite being busy, you’ve still made time for each other, going out for late night ice cream, or hanging out in your trailer watching movies on the laptop that you got for a massive discount (from a particular blond cutie with a goatee). But you haven’t been over in a few days, a week at most, and you didn’t know it was this bad.

“Ari.”

“Hold on!” he calls out, digging through his dressers as clothes fall to the floor.

“Ari.”

“Where the fuck are my jeans?” He sweeps through the hangers again, squinting behind his glasses, “Why do I have so many flannels?”

You step behind him, wrapping your arms around his torso. Pressing your cheek against his bare back, you can feel his rigid muscles under his skin. Poor baby, he’s so overworked and drained, yet he was still trying to put you first.

“We don’t have to go tonight.”

“We do. You got all dolled up and bought me flowers. You were gonna wine and dine me, and you can’t do that if we’re stuck in this pigsty.”

You squeeze him tighter, refusing to let go. You know he could easily overpower you, throw you on the bed and continue getting ready. But instead, he just sinks into your touch, slumping over and bracing himself on the dresser.

“I’m so fuckin’ sorry, sugar.”

“Don’t be.”

He always took care of you. Making sure you ate during the day, stayed hydrated and out of the harsh sun. He wouldn’t eat until you took a first bite, and always put snacks and water in your bag before you went to work. Sometimes on his days off, he’d get into your trailer by using the key you gave him and tidy up, wanting you to come home and be able to relax.

Ari has done so much for you.

It takes a few more kisses, some affectionate squeezing and running your hands up and down his chest for him to turn around.

His eyebrows are knotted tight, and a deep solemn frown plays on his lips. You notice his beard is thicker too, a smidge longer than his usual trim.

“I’m so tired—I don’t know what the hell is happening.” He sags forward, slinging his arms over your shoulders and tugging you closer.

You turn your head, kissing his bicep. “Wanna talk about it?”

He shrugs. “It’s work, work and work. That’s all I fuckin’ do now. I love The Den and working with my friends, and it always gets busy this time of year but shit…” he huffs, squeezing his eyes shut. “It was fine before because I had nothin’ else to do but now I have you.” He leans down, pressing his forehead to yours, “You're my girl—how the hell can I give you the attention, time and love that you deserve if I can’t even remember what day it is?”

Your heart aches as you stare into his disappointed blue eyes. Framed by thick lashes, they blink so slowly and sleepily.

“I don’t—I refuse to lose you because of something stupid like this.”

“You’re not going to lose me over one missed date.” You promise, meaning every word.

He chuckles dryly and turns back around to search through the closet again. “It starts like that. Then it’s another and another, and soon we aren’t even seeing each other for days at a time and resort to texts and five minute calls.” He rambles, “And then we’re just two strangers who had something great and you’re gonna get swept off your feet by some douchebag who can’t even remember your favourite colour. While you’re off with him in a big and bright city, I’m gonna be an old man still at The Den, talking about how I lost the girl of my dreams to drunk guys who have a million better things to do—”

“—would you be quiet!”

He looks over his shoulder with wide eyes.

“We aren’t going, so put down those jeans and sit on your bed.” You cross your arms.

Ari doesn’t move, his long fingers still clutching the denim. “Uh—”

“Shush.” You snatch the jeans from his hands and toss it on the dresser, and point to the unmade bed. “Go. Now.”

“Yes ma’am.” He mutters under his breath, cautiously walking around you to his bedroom. With a heavy breath, he plops on the mattress, leaning back with his legs spread wide.

His thin shorts ride up his thick thighs, displaying the built muscle and coarse hair. Quickly glancing over his shameless bulge, you admire his cute tummy and the chain dangling between his pecs.

You step towards him, cupping his bearded face in your hands and squishing his cheeks, making his lips pucker. “You have to take a break or else you’re gonna burn out.”

His eyes close peacefully, your touch silencing all of those pesky worries and looming fears. He was normally very reflective about his thoughts, and kept those stupid, useless, noisy ones to himself.

One of your hands moves to his hair, taking out the clip and running your fingers through the dark strands. “You always take care of me. You’re always so sweet and attentive, the best daddy I could’ve ever asked for.” You say softly and lean down, gently pulling his head back to kiss his cheek, trailing closer to his pink, plump lips. “Now I wanna take care of you.”

A low groan rumbles from his chest, “yeah, baby? You gonna take care of daddy tonight?”

“Mhm.” You hum with a chaste kiss. “Work out all those knots in your back, clear your head…” Your hands fall to his shoulders, tenderly pressing into the tense muscles. “Tonight is all about you, daddy. You deserve it.”

It’s about time we get back to the hot and steamy Flamingo Trailer Park !! The posting date would be earlier but your girl has exams 🥸 I hope you’re all as excited as me 🤩 pls feel free to share your thoughts !!

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igglemouse · 5 days

Text

The start of a new day brings me a fresh wave of optimism and that's all because of the success of my stand. It started as a random dream, a stray hope that maybe, just maybe, I could move forward into a new life and have it be fueled by a career driven by my passion and ambition.

So yes, I will start the day off with left over pizza because I simply deserve it!

There are a few things I must do before I can really get the day started. The usual chores of course. I cook so there's always dishes to be done and counters to be cleaned and of course there's always flowers to attend to as well. It's the dying days of spring with the coming of summer so I have plenty of gardening left ahead of me it looks like and that is work I look forward to.

Just when I think things are going well the day hiccups, putting before me a challenge, a problem to be solved in the form of a broken toilet. Yeah, I'm not going to worry about it and so I call the now usual repair service, my voice familiar to them by now, and let them know that something else in my house is broken.

I thought about trying to fix it myself but I do have things to do today and I do have somewhere to be as well.

And that somewhere? Pascal's.

I'm not going to dwell on what Simón and I shared earlier this week. I'll think of it as a book completed and closed. I've come to Oasis Springs to start a new life and that means starting new relationships which also includes those of the romantic variety.

So here I am before Pascal's place, large, big enough to house multiple people to be sure but its less than what I would have expected. He's an athletic prodigy, right? The next big thing? I'd think he'd at least live in a mini-mansion of sorts.

It's more than I have so who am I to judge?

Pascal is there to open the door for me and lead me deeper inside. Holding my hand on the way there, perhaps ready to direct me into this next part of my life or maybe he's just grabby? Either way, his presence is welcoming and his smile is inviting.

"You look amazing," he breathes out, bringing his lips to my fingers for a well placed kiss. Playing the role of gentleman, I suppose? The subtle action brings some warmth to my cheeks that is difficult to hide.

Pascal pushes every button for me. Physically, he's everything I could ever want. Mentally? Well, that is up for debate, isn't it? Mental faults are something you have to dig up to discover. Honestly, I feel fortunate that he finds me attractive at all.

"Love day is tomorrow," I remind him, already picturing another date with him, wondering if I should imagine a future with him at all.

"I know! It's just too bad I have a game that day," he says, sincerely disappointed, I think. "It is only a day, we have more than one day to spend together, don't we?"

"We do," I agree, two words fumbling from my lips and realizing that the language we are using right now assumes there is an 'us'. It's vague and really, too vague for my tastes. I want something more, something concrete, something I can rely on. Especially from a man like him. I chew on my lower lip, hesitating to ask the question I know must be asked. "When you say we..."

The laughter that comes from him is welcoming and the sound itself pushes relief through me. It's warm and jovial and comes before a confident nod of his head. "Yes, we! There should be a we, shouldn't there?" It was my turn to give a nod, I feel a little fluttery to be honest, thinking this relationship is advancing rapidly but feeling like there is no sense in getting in front of a speeding train. "Frida?"

"Y-yes, yes, 'we' sounds good!" Does that make it official? I suppose so. For a moment I think of Simon and then remind myself that he's a man from my past and not my future.

In the wake of our mutual agreement I can see that Pascal seems a little lighter, the smile on his face brighter with a vibrant look to his eyes. It's the look I imagine he has on his face after scoring a goal or making a crucial play while playing futbol.

Speaking of that, I find myself a little more curious about his world. I don't know much about it, if I'm being honest, next to nothing other than a bunch of people kick a ball around and try to get it into a goal, but the questions I ask him, about the basics and such, creates a shared energy between us. His passion for kicking balls around on a field is very infectious. "I should come! See you play-"

"It's an away game," he says, crushing that idea the moment I thought of it. "Of course you could travel. There's a wives club or something, they keep together sometimes but-"

"Yeah, pass," I reply a little harshly. I'm not a wife and I sure don't want to spend time with a gaggle of what I presume are stuck up and spoiled women who will certainly judge me for being just a girlfriend. "I can't any ways, my food stand is really picking up and I don't want to slow down that momentum."

"Your stand is so cute," he says, bringing energy back into the conversation. "And those waffles were amazing. I keep meaning to come back but my diet is pretty strict sometimes."

That I can understand. He's an athlete, after all. "I thought about becoming a full time chef. You know, work at a restaurant so that I can earn even more simoleons."

At this he frowns for just a moment. Quick enough for me to notice. He's also quick to explain himself. "If you're going to be with me you won't have to worry about simoleons."

"You can never have too many! Besides, I'd like some simoleons that I earn for myself. You know?"

"Yeah," he utters, but the word comes out flat, a tone that doesn't quite fit well into my ears. It's a disagreement then, one he's not ready to get into but what could be the issue? If we were to become official official, you know, living together and everything, what would be wrong with having more simoleons between us? "Give it a year, Frida, and I'll be one of the best players in the world. Simoleons will never be an issue for us."

He says it with such conviction and confidence that all I can do is nod my head. There is a clear determination in his voice and and a look in his eyes that tell me this is a future he's already seen. One promised to him or at least he believes it has been promised to him. This part of him is a little intimidating, the drive of a man that will not be stopped and will let nothing get in the way of his goals but that part of him is also exciting and admirable. Maybe it's because its a contrast to what Simón offered, a man who was happy to get what he could out of life, nothing more. Pascal, I can tell, is a man that settles for nothing.

I make it back home with more of a direction. I'm not single anymore. I'm not single! I don't know if this is a good or bad thing (because you know ladies sometimes its better to be single than miserably coupled) but it is definitely a thing!

I'm back in my kitchen, making waffles and baking cookies and decided to do something a little new. Fried chicken! It's one of those foods universally loved, who hates fried chicken? Other than vegetarians and vegans I suppose but I hope it will be a welcomed surprise for my customers!

The waffles and cookies disappear from my counter, dishes that are familiar to my customers by now, and the chicken is not far behind. Overall, a pretty breezy 700 or so simoleons are earned and that's enough alone for rent. I might outgrow my little place before I can even get settled into it!

The sun starts to fall, casting long shadows over the day and slowly but beautifully giving way to night. I don't like having my stand open at night because...duh, why would I? So I'm just about ready to close up shop until one more person lingers over to my stand.

"Hola!" I call out, catching his attention. One more sale won't hurt.

"Fryda?" He asks, his pronunciation all wrong. I nod my head any ways, impatiently wanting to make my sale and call it a night. "Closing up?"

"Yes, loong day but...one more," I keep it simple, Simlish still being new to me meant short sentences are better than longer ones and despite what others say I do not like my accent.

"Anything you would suggest?"

"Ummmm..." that's a question I don't get a lot so it makes me think for a moment. I look over the counter, most of the dishes are cleaned, my best offerings long gone leaving nothing I'd really suggest. "Pizza?" I wave a hand over it. It's not my best creation but he smiles, hands me his simoleons, and takes a slice.

"Can't go wrong with pizza! Thanks, Fryda!"

But little does Friday know that her last lingering customer was none other than Ray Booker. Infamous local food critic and one who was looking for any reason to leave a scathing review.

He happily made his way to a nearby bench in a neighborhood park, cleared of children thankfully, and signaled for his cameraman to pop out and start the show.

Once the lens fell on him he went into his usual motions. Playing up his chewing, making the same 'oooh' and 'ahhh' sounds as if his palate was so distinct that he could suss out every bit of flavor.

After finishing it, he gave his audience a knowing smirk, an expression they knew all too well as the precursor for a bad review.

"I've never had a slice of pizza so bad that it might make me consider having pizza ever again. Who makes a cream corn pizza, any way..."

Episode List - Next

#The Sims #The Sims 4 #ts4 #Sims #Sims 4 #sims legacy #my sims #generation 1 #soot #sims of our time #frida varela #ray booker #pascal alcocer #simon barrera

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cupcakes-and-pain · 2 months

Text

Charles & Ollie: Past

Hey guys. Um. It’s been a while since I’ve written. Sorry. Anyway! I really love this piece. It’s also much longer than most chapters I write, I’m pretty sure. Almost 2.8k words. So that’s fun.

Enjoy!

CW: pet whump, slave whump, refusing to use someone’s name, insults, perceived abandonment (technically not real), fear of punishment, self hatred, unreliable narrator, drug trafficking, drugging mention, police, starvation, escape/running away, homelessness, fear of death

Masterlist

— — —

It had been a normal day.

Wake up, make breakfast for Master, kneel quietly, and hope that he did well. Hope that he wouldn't have to spend the next few days tied up, bleeding, and starving in the basement. It was always his fault for being so stupid and deserving to be punished, but he could hope. Not want, of course, that'd never be allowed. But he could secretly wish and dream for a time when Master was forgiving.

Luckily, Master didn't find anything wrong with his pet's behavior that morning, so he set out. But not before giving his slave a strong kick to the ribs to keep him in his place. Pet preferred the kicks, the other choice for a daily reminder was a slap. Pet hated the hand marks. They made his already hideous face look even more ugly.

Pet set about his chores, washing the dishes and wiping the counter. He caught his blurred reflection in the polished granite. His collar was tight around his neck, the little tag hanging from it jingling.

He touched it gently, longing to hear his Master say the name written on it, just once. He knew that he needed the reminders because he was so stupid and useless. He'd forget his place if he wasn't called names all day. "Slave. Pet. Stupid. Ugly. Mutt. Useless. Fleabag. Bitch. Dog." On and on, all the cruelest things Master and his friends could think of, perfectly suiting for the crushed and bleeding thing that so often laid at their feet.

But Pet longed to hear his name, his real name, so badly. It had been so long, he knew it was bad, he knew he was selfish and worthless and dumb. But... no one would know, right? If he said it, just this once? Such a tiny word, only two syllables.

"Ol-"

The door flung open, and Pet jumped back, arms above his head. It was like the ground crumbled beneath his feet, and his stomach dropped. He fell to the floor, curled up, trying desperately to protect his most vital organs from attack. Had Master been waiting for this? He knew that his slave would mess up, didn't he? And he was just waiting to beat the living daylights out of the useless, worthless, disgusting piece of flesh that he owned.

"Hey, no, stupid dog. Come here." Master hauled him up off his feet and dragged him towards the basement. Pet whimpered but was in awe that Master was able to hold his fury in until they got to the basement. Usually, he'd just beat Pet wherever he was and make him clean up the blood from the floor and carpeting later.

"M-master, please, I-"

"Shush. You know what, hide! I'll be back in a few days. Some guys might come through, maybe a cop or two. Listen to me, you pathetic excuse for a dog." Master grabbed Pet's face roughly, fingernails digging into his cheeks. He was forcing Pet to look into his eyes, something that was rarely allowed. But it must be okay this time if Master was the one causing it.

"You have to understand.” Master said, “Do. Not. Come. Out. For. Anyone. However you need to do it, just get it through your thick skull. Don't stop hiding until I come back and say it's okay to leave, okay?" Master half-heartedly threw him to the floor, his slave more confused than he had ever been or probably ever would be. With one last disapproving glare, Master left.

Pet never saw him again.

- - -

It was true, he soon learned, that many people would be coming through the house. Pet feared he would feel lonely and bored while waiting, but there was a lot to keep his thoughts occupied and off of... other things.

First, cops searched the entire building. Pet heard them and dashed to a tiny closet in the basement, wedging a piece of wood in the handle on his side of the door. The police tried and failed to get in and even discussed cutting it open with an ax. Pet trembled, sweat dripping off his forehead while he tried to stop himself from hyperventilating.

Eventually, though, one of them protested, not wanting to do more work when they already had evidence. And so they left, making the house silent and (somewhat) stress-free once more.

Other people came and went too, talking and cursing. Most of them Pet recognized as the voices of Master's friends. He knew better than to listen to people's conversations, but they all kept mentioning drugs and pills, the type that had once been used on Pet. He remembered the experience, although things were still a little fuzzy.

It made his head hurt for days afterward, but at the moment, everything had felt so nice and peaceful for a few minutes before the blackout. When he woke up, he was covered in bruises and cuts, but it had still taken a few minutes for the relaxation to wear off and the pain to settle in.

Master had gotten very upset that his friends wasted the pills on a pet, after "everything he went through to get them." Despite already being beaten just an hour ago, Pet was punished severely for taking the pills. He had wanted to protest that the men had made him, but he knew better. The men were superior to him. They couldn't be faulted for it. So the blame must lie with Pet. It must. Master was never wrong.

In the present day, after many days of hunger and freezing nights down in the basement, Pet felt like he couldn't go on like this. No one had visited in a while. He knew what he was thinking about was bad. He knew that if Master found out what he was about to do, he'd be furious. He made it absolutely clear that his pet was not to leave the basement.

And yet, Pet finds himself sneaking up to the kitchen. He filled two bags with dog food and then, with some careful consideration, took three apples. Master never liked fruit but would still buy it; Pet was never quite sure of the reasoning behind that. And Pet had already been so bad, a few apples that would've rotted away even if Master had been there was nothing.

Pet then made his way to the living room and took several blankets and pillows. Then, noticing the mail had been delivered, he also took the newest copy of Pet Paper. Most of the articles either were boring or scared him, but they usually had fun pictures and a few games.

Carrying all of his loot and feeling surprisingly okay for a disobedient mutt who may have been abandoned, Pet made a little camp for himself in the basement. He decided to put the pillows and blankets in the closet where he had previously hidden from cops. The tiny space felt almost like his cage upstairs and he knew now that it was suitable for hiding.

Then he sat on the floor, grabbed a handful of dog food to munch on, and started reading.

Several more days passed before Pet started to get incredibly worried. He had heard the garbage truck pass by this morning. That was the second time since he had last seen Master. More than two weeks had gone by and still, no sign of where he had gone. What was previously just another anxious thought had transformed itself into a legitimate concern. Had Pet been abandoned?

Of course, it didn't make any sense. Why would Master leave everything just to get away from his pet?

But he couldn't deny that something was wrong. Even Master's friends had stopped visiting too. He didn't get it. Of course, he was so stupid, he could never understand why humans do the things they do. But he just couldn't think of any other explanation. So Master must've abandoned him.

Pet waited another week before finally deciding to leave. The dog food was running out, even after he had made several more disobedient trips upstairs. And if Pet had been thrown away, shouldn't he get out of his Master's house? Maybe Master was waiting until he left to come back to the house. Pet was probably being bad for staying there for so long. He was so selfish, not wanting to leave the comfort of the building for the scary outside world.

But he had to now. At least there would be food outside. And also cruel people, the cold, sickness, and probably death. But a bad pet like him deserved all of that, surely. He was such a rotten animal.

Pet's first steps outside were cautious and weak. He nearly stumbled from the sheer shock of it all.

He had done it. Ollie had done it. He couldn't believe this... this... this whole new world.

but it wasn't new, not really. It wasn't new at all. He just hadn't been here in a very long time, if ever.

He felt like he had stepped into a fantasy world after only hearing of it in fairytales. The outside world, the land beyond the kitchen window, was never allowed to him before. It might as well be something that only existed in legend.

- - -

Ollie sat huddled under the bridge, violently shivering. He hadn't eaten in two, maybe three days? He didn't know.

He was cold, wet, tired, and starving. He deserved all of it for leaving his Master's house. He should've accepted his fate and died there.

He was horrible.

- - -

Earlier in the day, Ollie had run away from some police. It was only because he was so small and capable of hiding that he got away. His muscles were very weak as of late, so he could've been easily caught. He'll have to be more careful next time.

But now, because of all the distance he had worked hard to put between him and the officers, Ollie had found himself in an entirely new area.

It was late at night, so restaurants had probably thrown out their leftovers already. If only he could find a place and dumpster dive for spare food.

As he wandered, he spied yet another cop. He was so frightened that he ran into the first available hiding place he saw: a bright, bustling building. He hadn't been thinking. He was so stupid. He dashed in and joined the crowds, trying to hide himself in the large group.

When someone first noticed him, in his dirty, smelly, roughed-up state with no shoes, she shrieked and backed up so fast she bumped into a man, who fell on a waiter, who spilled two glasses of wine they had been carrying.

Soon enough, everyone was in a great commotion, trying to get away from Ollie and call security.

The pet began to cry, overwhelmed and tired and hungry and not at all wanting to deal with this. He was sorry, he was, and he would do whatever they wanted to make up for it. Just please don't hand him over to the police. Please. He didn't know what they'd do to him, and he wasn't eager to find out.

The guards approached Ollie and he fled, going deeper into the crowd, until he tripped over his own feet and fell. He curled up and lay trembling on the floor, sobbing and so terrified.

He heard a bunch of people shuffle and he looked up to see the crowd part as a man walked through, headed straight for Ollie. This man didn't look like a security guard but rather was dressed in an expensive suit and had a stern, irritated expression.

When the man saw Ollie, however, his expression changed a bit. Ollie didn't know how to describe it, having never been looked at with such a visage. But it seemed less upset than the previous one, so that might be a plus? Maybe? Maybe this man won't kick Ollie as hard as he could, or won't insult him while throwing him out.

The man looked around.

"Whose pet is this?"

Of course, no one stepped forward. The man looked back at Ollie and asked if his owner was here. He shook his head.

"Are you lost?'

"Um, yeah... I-... I was abandoned, sir."

"Oh. I am very sorry to hear that. So you need a place to stay, then?"

Another nod. The man bent slightly and extended a hand. Ollie flinched away, bracing for a slap, but none came. He looked back and the hand was still there, just resting in the air. Ollie hesitated, but the man nodded encouragingly, and so Ollie took his hand and got helped up.

He whimpered as pressure was put on his ankle, then froze. He was bad.

His ankle must've been injured when he tripped, which was his fault, he shouldn't have run. And now he had the audacity to whimper?? He was so, so bad. This man would realize what a pathetic mutt he was and hurt him for it.

Glancing up fearfully, he saw that the man was indeed frowning. Ollie shrank back, hand slipping out of the man's grasp. He started shaking even harder.

"Oh dear, easy, it's alright," the man soothed. "I didn't mean to further injure your ankle by forcing you to stand. I will call a doctor for you immediately."

Did he think Ollie was upset because his ankle hurt? But.. why? Sure, the pain was intense now that he was trying to stand, but it was nothing compared to what he's been through.

"There's no need to be so concerned, sir. I'm alright. I can take it and more. I can take whatever you want me to."

The man frowned again and Ollie nearly cried.

"No, no, don't be ridiculous. I have no reason to harm you. You've done nothing wrong, dear. I don't want you to be unnecessarily hurt."

The man hesitated, then spoke again.

"That's not how I want one of my workers to be treated."

...

...what?

"What do you mean, sir?"

"I do not wish for you to be harmed, regardless of your status, but especially if you agree to work for me. You don't have a home or... employer, do you?"

"No, sir, I don't have either of those. But really, you don't have to, I'll only be a bother and a burden-"

"Nonsense. I have heard of how they train you guys. I'm sure you are wonderful. And besides, I am forgiving, I promise."

Ollie couldn't help but notice some of the crowd looked doubtful at that, which was very concerning. But at the same time, the man did not possess the same cruel glint in his eyes, the expression of deceit, the glee in waiting until the perfect moment to strike.

Of course, the man could just be better at hiding those things, or Ollie was dumber than he thought.

But what other choice did he have?

This person was offering him a lifeline, a chance at a new home and a new life. Ollie would die if he continued to be homeless. Maybe not right away, but he'd eventually catch an illness or upset someone or get caught, and then it'd be all over.

He didn't want to die.

"Okay. Of course, sir, I'd be happy to be your slave."

The man just nodded tight, and the pet was certain that he had already messed up.

But still, the man didn't do anything to him. Instead, he addressed the crowd.

"Apologies for the interruption," He announced, not sounding apologetic in the slightest. "I have urgent business to attend to with my worker, so I must leave. Enjoy the showing, it will continue until 10:30 PM as planned. My accountant will be handling any further purchases. Good night."

Then, looking back at his new slave again, Master spoke much softer.

"What is your name, dear?"

Oh god. Oh no. He knew what he was supposed to say, he knew he had to be good. He should tell the man that he can call him anything, even horrible insults, and the slave would readily accept it. He had to show his new owner that he could be good. But the man had asked. Please. The pet wanted to be allowed his name, his real name.

"Ollie, sir. My name is Ollie."

The man nodded, not seeming angry at the slave's terrible presumption that he could demand a free person use a particular name for him.

"I am Charles Durand, please to meet you, Ollie. Come with me. I'll help you to a couch to rest until the doctor arrives."

Given no other option, Ollie followed him, allowed to dangerously lean on his arm as he hobbled along.

Hopefully, this man wouldn't be too cruel to him.

— — —

Tag list: @whumpzone @whump-me-all-night-long @whumpsweetwhump @thingsthatgo-whump-inthenight @apples-and-whump @professional-idiocy @nicolepascaline @cowboy-anon @wolfeyedwitch @kim-poce @guachipongo @badluck990 @secretwhumplair @batfacedliar-yetagain @whumpsday @extrabitterbrain @morelikepainsley @catawhumpus @starfields08000 @mylovelyme

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blooming-violets · 1 year

Note

Fucking her while she’s doing the dishes 🙃🙃🙃

You got it!

TASM Peter Parker x Fem!Reader smut || The Dishes

TW: I use the term "daddy" in a sexual manner in this, if that's not your jam, skip it.

The suds of the dish soap coated her hands as she idly scrubbed the same glass she had been working on for the past few minutes. Her mind was elsewhere. Work, family matters, friendship troubles. Anywhere but here. It wasn’t until she felt an arm snake around her waist did she pull herself back from her wandering.

“I think that glass is clean enough,” a gravelly voice murmured against her ear.

The sound of his tone made her shiver. She knew it all too well. It didn’t matter what he was saying, the moment his voice shifted into that low, scruffy sound, she knew. He wanted her. Now.

“Mm,” she gave a content sigh, rinsing the glass under the stream of steaming water. “I’m a bit distracted tonight, I think.” She could practically hear his smirk as his fingers splayed out over her stomach. He toyed with the white fabric of her sundress. Despite being late into the evening, they were going through a heat wave in the city. She couldn’t handle the thought of anything heavier than a light dress weighing her down.

“I can bring you back down to earth,” his breath was hot against her neck. She could feel the sweat start to bead up down her spine the closer he pushed himself into her.

Her head felt like she was spinning. He had that effect on her. Always had.

“No, Peter. I’m trying to finish the dishes,” she tried to hold firm. “If they don’t get done now, they never will. I know us. There will be a mountain of unwashed dishes in one week if I don’t do them.” She felt his hand slide over her hips and under the hem of her dress. Her soapy hand slapped down over his wrist, “No!”

His grip only tightened, nails digging into the fleshy bits of her thigh, “No?” He sounded amused. “Are you sure about that?”

“I-” her face felt heated. “I’m busy…” The lack of confidence in her voice was evident.

Peter’s hand only paused momentarily before continuing his descent, “Busy? Washing the same glass for the past ten minutes? You’re so, so busy, aren’t you? You poor thing. I’m working you to the bone over here. You sound like you need some motivation to get the job done.”

She sighed, a deep and satisfied sigh, as her head lulled to the side. It was an invitation for him to attack her sweaty neck with hot kisses. She held her breath as his hand approached her sex. It was only a matter of seconds before he realized she wasn’t wearing underwear. Then it would be over. Any attempt to finish her evening chores would fly out of the open window. Peter wouldn’t be able to resist himself and she had no desire to actually stop him.

Despite her best efforts to squeeze her thighs together, he prevailed. His palm found its destination and he let out a soft inhale.

“You naughty girl,” he rumbled in her ear. “Do you really think I wouldn’t notice you had nothing on under here? I knew it the second I walked into this apartment. What do you think I’ve been staring at all night?”

She could feel herself growing hotter and wetter with each word that fell from his lips. His tone was nothing but pure raw lust.

“Peter,” she whispered, stuttering over her own tongue. “I have to…to…the dishes…”

“I never said you had to stop. Please, continue.”

His hand slipped out from under her dress to instead tug the thin straps from her shoulders. He jerked the material down her arms to expose her breasts until the dress hung loosely around her hips. With a more leisurely caress, he ran his fingers lightly over the swell of her breast.

“Well,” he ordered. “Keep working. I wouldn’t want to force you to stop.”

Her pulse quickened. She loved it when he got like this. The more dominating and controlled he became, the more she craved him. She wanted him to puppet her to his will. She wanted him to take what was his without asking.

“Yes, Peter.”

She grabbed the wine glass she drank out of for dinner tonight but it slipped from her soapy grasp. The glass landed perfectly over a steak knife and shattered into pieces at the bottom of the sink. Before she even had time to react, Peter’s hand was tangled in her hair and yanked her head back.

“I didn’t say to break the dishes. I said to clean them,” he growled, the amused smirk evident despite her not being able to see his entire face. “Does someone need to be taught a lesson?”

Heat flooded her core at the thought and she gave a dry swallow, “Yes, daddy.” The pet name fell out with ease. She knew exactly how to make him lose control.

He responded with a low, dark chuckle. Her head was still snapped back, forced to stare up at the ceiling. She couldn’t see where his other hand was hiding until she felt a sharp pinch of her nipple. Hard. He twisted and tugged at it until she couldn’t hold back the whimper of pain. He wanted to hear her cry out but she held strong. He grabbed at the other one, giving it the same torture as her sister. She bit her lip to hold in any noise.

“What’s the matter? You don’t want to scream for daddy tonight?” He tutted his tongue. “Are you trying to be a brave girl?” The growl in the back of his throat only turned her on more. “Don’t worry. I’ll have you screaming for mercy by the end. I always do.”

Peter released both her sore nipple and her hair at the same time causing her to fall forward. She gripped the side of the counter for support. He took that as an opportunity to flip up the back of her dress to expose her bare, pantieless bottom. A palm press against her upper back, urging to bend over and arch her spine for him. Once she was in the position he deemed acceptable, his open hand came down with a deafening crack over her plump, expecting ass cheek.

She yelped with the shock that followed the slap and couldn’t hold back the loud moan that tumbled out after the yell. She loved the sharp sting. It awakened every cell in her body. It made her feel alive. Again and again his palm ricocheted off her bottom, leaving a searing, delicious pain in its wake.

When he paused to take in the state of her, bent over the counter, dress bunched around her waist, breasts swaying under her with each heaving breath, soap suds drying on her delicate skin, it was almost too much to handle. His fingers slid between her thighs to tease her sex. She was soaking wet. Her slick glistened on his coated fingers under the dull lights of their kitchen. A beautiful sight. One that would never get old. He probed deeper into the swollen, aching flesh, feeling her body crying out for him.

She felt humiliated as she listened to pornographic sounds her sopping pussy made with each thrust of his hand. He pumped three fingers in and out of her without any resistance. The harder he abused her needy cunt, the more she cried out. She could feel flicks of wetness splattering down her thighs. It trickled down her legs. Her mouth hung open in a silent cry as that familiar warmth started to grow in the pit of her stomach. He was a master with his hands. A man who perfected his craft. He could bring her to a screaming orgasm with nothing but a finger if he desired.

But, tonight, he chose a different method.

Just before she could catch that high, Peter yanked his drenched fingers out of her. She whimpered in protest. Her head turned to beg for more but she saw that his cock was already clutched in his hand. He wasted no time guiding it into its new home. Her eyes slipped closed at the sensation of him filling her. The orgasm he had been building her towards with his hands reignited exactly where it left off as his cock plunged deeper. It was as if a strike of lightning shot straight up her spine only to explode somewhere in the depths of her skull.

Her eyes shot open with a shocked yelp as Peter landed another hot slap against her quivering ass. She could feel her cheek jiggle from the force of the blow. That wonderful mix of pain and pleasure set off another explosion, this time down in her mons. She no longer had control over her body. Peter was holding her up. She couldn’t remember when he had moved her from bending over to arched tightly against his chest but he held her up with a strong arm locked around her neck. Her own arms dangled uselessly by her sides as he pounded into her. Her head tilted back to lull against her shoulder like a rag doll. She couldn’t think. Couldn’t move. Couldn’t make a sound. Only feel.

The explosions kept going off. As long as Peter kept up his pace, her orgasm never ended. Each thrust of his heavy cock brought on another set of fireworks. It was almost too much for her to bear. There was nothing but the hot, persistent throbbing electrifying her skin. Peter wasn’t stopping. He was there. Pounding into her. Spreading her. Impaling her. Using her like the sex doll he craved.

His breath was ragged, his grunts were low and deep, filling her ears with the sounds of his pleasure. He was loving this as much as she was. They were melding into one. There was no her without him. No him without her. Their bodies were entwined. Two beings moving together as one.

She knew he was close. She did her best to fumble out the words he’d want to hear despite her lips not wanting to form anything but mindless screams.

“F-fill me, daddy.” She mumbled, vaguely coherent. “I wan’ your cum. Fill me up. Make me yours. Take me…have me…cum inside me. I n-need you. All of you. Let me have you, daddy. Give it to me. I need it…please…please…” Tears pricked her eyes, the heightened emotions and feeling of ecstasy too much for her to handle. She wanted him. So badly that it physically hurt.

And then the burst of warmth rocketed out of him.

He filled her sweet pussy with the remnants of himself and she gladly accepted it all.

Her body was being pushed back against the counter as Peter nearly collapsed on top of her with a loud, long groan. He emptied himself into her depths with shivering, jerking movements. The edge of the counter cut into her soft stomach but she didn’t care. She bore Peter’s weight, letting him finish how he needed to, until he managed to stumble back, sliding out of her, and wrapping an arm around her waist. He pulled her onto the nearest kitchen chair, cradling her in his lap. They were both dripping in sweat. Her thighs were slick with a mixture of both of their fluids. She could only give quiet, little moans with her head resting against his shoulder. Every so often another shot of lingering electricity would strike through her and she’d give an erratic shake of delayed pleasure.

Peter’s chest rose and fell with his labored breaths. He stroked lightly down her spine and trailed patterns over her skin with the calloused pads of his fingers. They stayed like that for some time, breathing each other in, and soaking in the essence of their love.

It was Peter who eventually spoke first. She would have been perfectly content to sit, cuddled, in silence until the morning.

His voice was raspy and weak, “I promise I’ll do the dishes in the morning. Let’s clean you up and I’ll bring you to bed.” He placed a gentle kiss on her jaw and nipped at her earlobe.

“It’s too early to sleep,” she managed to squeak out.

“I never said anything about sleeping. That was just round one.”

#tasm #tasm peter #tasm peter parker #tasm x reader #tasm smut #tasm peter x reader #tasm peter x reader smut #tasm peter parker x reader #tasm peter parker x reader smut #the amazing spiderman #andrew garfield #spiderman #the dishes

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mastersoftheair · 2 months

Text

"Masters of the Air details: Part 3-Gunnery.

Guns:

"A lot of people have been asking about the guns used in Masters of the Air. I believe that full auto blank firing guns were going to be used originally. It turns out that the muzzle blast from blank guns could damage the sensitive screens used in the volume for the video walls, so they came up with another type of gun developed by a sharp special effects master. He made guns that operated on compressed air and would feed belted, projectile-less shells and links and spit out the empty shells from the bottom of the gun and the links out of the feed way just like the real guns would. The guns would recoil, and rattle and the muzzle flash would be added by VFX in post-production. "The guns worked well but fired slower than a real M2 50 cal at 600 rounds per minute. They did need a lot of tweaking and frequent reloading so some of the production staff were less than happy at the time needed to service the guns and keep them running. No good non-blank firing options exist for this kind of work so I thought that this was an impressive effort and ultimately looked good on screen."

Empty Brass:

"The shells and links dropping from the guns at a prodigious rate is a very important part in my mind as is the number of shells that should be all over the floor around the gunners. We were filming Regensburg which historically was a long running battle with the Luftwaffe so the amount of ammunition expended was amazing to say the least. "Each gun fires about 10 rounds per second so there are 10 empty shells and 10 links spitting out of each 50 cal gun per second. Imagine what the floor would look like and imagine walking all over those empty shells. "They actually made rubber empty shells and links painted perfectly to look like the real thing with the intention of people being able to walk on them and not have their feet flying out from under them like they would with the real thing. "At one point during filming, I couldn’t see enough shells on the monitors for the cameras, so I asked for more brass and I met resistance from one of the crew saying that they had already put some in. I had to pull up wartime images on my iPad to show them, and the director, just how bad it would look in the middle of battle so they could understand that just one half of a bucket of brass was not going to cut it. We needed at least 10 buckets so they stopped filming to fill up the floor with brass and links as it should be. The gunners should be wading through the brass around their boots. "This was an eye opener for them, and they ended up filming a lot of scenes showing this dramatic aspect or aerial warfare. It sure looked good!"

Feed Chutes:

"Reproducing fully complimented B-17’s is quite a chore. Some items are harder to replicate than others. One of these hard parts to reproduce are the flexible feed chutes used for the ammunition to get from the ammo box to the gun. Since the gun is swinging all over the place so do the feed chutes. Dave helped supply some of these parts and set them up for each gun position just like in the blueprints. There is an open end for the top and a closed end meant for the bottom. "All of the feed chutes used in MOTA were the real deal. Most of it had been dug up in some of the airfield digs that have been going on over the last few decades at the old dumps in East Anglia. I even found some at a military show that I bought for the show as we needed all that we could come up with. "As you can imagine, the feed chutes that have been buried for 75 years, are pretty beat up. Their saving grace is that they were made from stainless steel so they didn’t corrode away like most other metals did but they were seriously bent and twisted. Dave and others made wood former's to straighten them out and get them looking good once again. Dave had one chute that had heavy visible wear inside of it from all of the ammo that had passed through it during the war. For all we know, it could have actually been on the Regensburg raid! "I thought it was really cool that original 8th AF ammo chutes were used in the series."

Gun Mounts:

"One of the hardest parts to find are the gun mounts or recoil adapters that the 50 cal guns were cradled in. The guns impart a lot of hammering shock load when fired and this would tear up the aluminum structure of the aircraft so they made these mounts so they would recoil and absorb the shock of the gun. These mounts (Bell E-11 and Edgewater E-12) are quite hard to find and when they do show up they get snapped up by collectors. Each B-17 would need 8 of these so BGI went into production and made them from scratch. Anything BGI does is impressive, and these were especially so. As I mentioned above, they originally intended to use actual firing 50 cal guns so these mounts needed to be fully functional and not just some kind of plastic replica[...] "Frankly, to walk in and see a row of these rare mounts, all brand new, was quite a delight. There are a lot of collectors out there drooling heavily over these and many of the other props that were fabricated for the series. "One very cool aspect of being involved in this project was to see history come alive. I have been learning about this stuff since I could read and thankfully, I was able to get to know a lot of WWII veterans who lived it themselves. I have listened to their stories and have asked countless questions about how they did the things that they did. "It is quite another thing to see this stuff come to life with your own eyes. It answers some questions and generates a whole lot more. Getting down to the details is a lot of fun for us WWII nerds. "One aspect that came to life on the MOTA set involved the early B-17’s that had their waist gun windows straight across from each other. I had read and learned that this was a problem for the gunners and Boeing ended up staggering the waist windows so the gunners would not interfere with each other. "The MOTA B-17’s were the F models and when the actors were in place, with full flying gear, it was incredible to see just how crammed up they were around each other. "The other fascinating thing is all of the various connections that each gunner and crewman had. Each waist gunner, and all aircrew for that matter, would have four connections to the aircraft for: Oxygen, headphones, microphone and their electrically heated flying suit. All of these wires and hoses for each gunner connected up over their heads and hung down around them. Now imagine not only bumping to each other and swinging the guns and maneuvering in this cramped space with the wind from the open waist windows but keeping all of your life saving umbilical’s attached at the same time. It doesn’t take much to pull one of these out or break one off, which could be disastrous. "The actors on MOTA were constantly having trouble with this and needed to look out for each other just like they must have done in combat. We were also constantly looking at the monitors and trying to be sure that they were still plugged in. "A wonderful project that was a real honor to be involved with for sure. The devil was definitely in the details."

#looooooooooooooong post again Sorry!#i italicized sentences that i really liked. and then indented for readability #masters of the air #hbo war #behind the scenes #long post

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spadesolace · 1 year

Text

countdown

pairing: highschool au! minji x fem! reader

warning/s: angst, internalized homophobia

spring cleaning was a chore you hated but also enjoyed, most of the things you put away haven’t seen the light of day for years. to see some old class pictures in high school, cringy letters you’ve received and questionable literary works you’ve done (gosh, were you really that down in the dumps to write something horrific?) digging deep enough, something caught your eye, an item that you probably just threw in to clean up some space. a bracelet with your initials and someone else. who did you know that had the initials KMJ?

Kim Minji.

something feels heavy, clutching for your chest, breathing unevenly. no, you told yourself that you won’t cry because of her again. everything hurts, somehow it feels as if you can’t cry but you’re shedding tears, the room feels a bit smaller, too small for your liking, and everything is closing in on you. countdown from 10.

10.

Kim Minji…

do you remember me?

was our friendship a waste?

what was it that made you push me away?

was it the way I acted?

was it my feelings?

you know I can’t control it.

if i could…

would things be different?

would things be the same?

“Y/N?”

turning around, you saw minji running to you. dazzling smile that would make heads turn and not look away, her melodic laugh, and the way her eyes shined as if they were the galaxy. letting the girl come to you as she started walking next to you, there was no need to rush, it's only a walk to the library for your english class.

“look what i made.” she showed you her bracelet, a friendship bracelet, with her initials. it had the colors of blue, black, and white. cute.

minji started explaining how she learned it within a day, even giving you your own but did you want it? well, yes, but it was a friendship bracelet, shouldn’t minji’s initials be yours? probably not, you’re overanalyzing things again, so you took it despite having doubts.

in the middle of the day, before you could go home, minji stopped you on your tracks. exchanging bracelets because hanni told her it was supposed to be the other way (so, you were right), letting her do her thing as she took off her bracelet and wore it on you. something simple and you’re already blushing, it's not like she’s proposing despite having a few thoughts about it. such a simp.

you were self-aware of your feelings for minji and it was getting a bit harder to keep it to yourself but its not like you’re going to confess. there was no point in confessing, minji wasn’t like that, right?

maybe you were wrong, minji came running to you after hearing certain rumors of hanni liking minji in a more than friends way. she was considering it, actually thinking of giving her a chance and now… you just feel empty. there was no advice coming from you or the coldness in your tone was evident, minji wasn’t dense, she just saw right through you. did you act upon your feelings? as if.

minji wasn’t like that, right? she didn’t like hanni that way, if she did you would have known. you were in denial, jealous, a bit possessive but you didn’t have the right to feel that way. just a friend, best friend, close friend, classmates, nothing more. a relationship with minji was a fantasy that you wished for every time, from a wishing well, a shooting star, the candles on your birthday cake, and holding your breath through a tunnel (which was risky). you knew the consequences, it was made aware to you whenever your emotions get the best of you; holding her tighter, cold shoulder, passive-aggressive statements, and sometimes kissing her hand… you were deep in denial.

until she confronted you, through chat, not even in person.

the rest of the school year, you simply messaged her but to no avail, she ghosted you. sending your goodbye on graduation day, minji became a thing of the past as you finally took the bracelet off and said goodbye to that chapter. she was your first love and it brought you pain, misery, and a lot of trauma.

the second time you fell, you didn’t confess, doubting everything, she showed you the beauty of the world and how to love yourself (as cliche as it is). you would do anything for her, because you actually felt loved.

“Y/N?” now, you’re back in your closet, holding your chest, while the bracelet was now on the floor. did you fall asleep?

“its ok, take deep breaths, what happened? another panic attack?” slowly opening your eyes, finally seeing your girlfriend soothing your back as your breathing finally went back to normal.

“y-yeah… just saw this and things went to shit.” you tried laughing at it but she only looked at you concerned, finally noticing the bracelet, you heard her curse under her breath.

“its ok, haerin. i’m fine… how long was i out?”

“about 10 minutes, your mom panicked and called me immediately.”

after that, haerin helped you with spring cleaning, letting her finish the one with your high school items to avoid any more incidents. your mind wandered, does she miss you? did she regret what she did? or was everything nothing to her?

minji is the past, haerin is your present and your future. still, you wanted to send your thanks to minji for helping you grow as a person. wherever she is, you hope not to see her again.

“y/n, come on, let’s get some ice cream.” minji was right, you and haerin really had a thing going and you regret not taking it early.

#minji x reader #kim minji #kim minji newjeans #kim minji x reader #newjeans #newjeans imagines #newjeans x reader #kpop x reader #kpop gg #angst

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