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yuanology · 9 months

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m!reader fingering afab!geto while being 100% aware gojo's watching through the crack of the door so he decides to show gojo how sensitive his friend is and geto ends up squirting?? (lowkey embarrassed i wrote this, but yknow ignore it if you want😅)

what the Fuck .

gojo satoru was not a virtuous man. far from it, in fact. as a self-made god, satoru existed on a plane far above morality and whatever other human concept was created to define right and wrong. within infinity and the insurmountable power residing in it, there was only the man who wielded it and the humanity confining it.

even so, satoru still knew deep within his heart—the trembling, still beating thing residing underneath the constricts of his ribs—that he should not be doing this; that he should not be staying.

but satoru was not a virtuous man, and so he stayed.

because there, past the thin crack of the door, was his best friend—the same one he had known from childhood, the same one who had walked with him through the ins and outs of darkness—with his clothes stripped clean, thrown messily around the room, both of his feet planted flat on the bed, and his back arching off the mattress in a pleasured arch. between his legs, slick and heavy with evidence of his own debauchery, stood you—fully dressed, only the first two buttons of your collar open.

satoru knew of you. it was impossible not to. you were older than the both of them. when they were freshly entering their first year, you'd already matured where you existed in your third one. satoru himself had barely spared you a glance but in retrospect, he did remember suguru mentioning once or twice that he was training with you on the side.

fuck, satoru thought, dazed. if he had known this was what 'training' involved, he would have listened a bit better on what suguru had to say about you.

because you were holding his thighs apart, well-practiced fingers relentlessly pushing past suguru's slick folds, producing the loudest squelching noises. satoru couldn't see very well from this angle, but he could hear the sounds his best friend was making; fucked up and high-pitched, whiney in a way satoru had never heard him speak before.

suguru cried out your name, breathless and panting. "please," he was begging you, sounding close to tears. "please, no more."

you leaned in, mouth brushing over suguru's chest as you whispered your response. satoru couldn't hear you, even as his ears strained to catch a wisp of your words. but whatever it was, it must not be good because suguru is letting out a loud whine, one the turned into the strangled beginnings of a scream when satoru noticed that you had begun to pick up pace.

oh my god.

just as satoru took the first hesitant half step backwards, swaying in place, he hears your drawled out voice—cutting, brave, unyielding.

"now, where do you think you're going, satoru?"

satoru stiffened, and he realised that he wasn't the only one. suguru did, too—his body locking up as a new flush crawled across his skin. satoru had half the mind to apologise to his best friend in his head, a chant of i'msorryi'msorryi'msorryi'msuchashittyfriend looping in his head as if it could forgive him for not only being a pervert, but also for intruding on his best friend's secret.

satoru cleared his throat. he wanted to make an excuse, to apologise, but all that could tumble out of his throat was a hoarse, "um."

suguru let out a high whine at the sound of satoru's voice, as if he was spurred on by his audience. his back arched, his mouth parting as a deep sound escaped him. satoru watched, mesmerised, as the muscle on suguru's body rippled at the motion, your hands never once faltering in its ministrations.

"come here for a minute, satoru." your voice was calm, collected and almost clinical. as if you didn't practically have your entire fist buried in between suguru's slick folds, your thumb nudging at where satoru guessed must be suguru's clit if suguru's high pitched whimpers were anything to go by. "i need your opinion on something."

satoru swallowed thickly as he was drawn into the room, his motions dumb as if he was a mere puppet on your string. as he moved closer, he realised that there was more to the scene that he couldn't earlier see from his post by the door.

suguru's cunt was fucking drooling, slick dripping all over the place as his hips canted in the air as if to escape and to move closer to the pleasure. his hole would no doubt he gaping if you pulled your hand out, hungry for more. your thumb covered his clit wholly, rubbing at it mercilessly.

satoru felt himself twitching in his pants, throat working around the words stuck in his lungs.

"what do you need?" satoru asked, his voice wrecked. he would be embarrassed by it if it wasn't promptly drowned out by the sound of suguru's choked out noises.

without thinking, satoru moved a hand to rest on suguru's thigh, at the sight of his best friend in distress. he didn't realise what a great mistake it was until suguru did a full body shudder, a ragged gasp leaving him. satoru couldn't fucking breathe.

clearly, you didn't share the same sentiment because you were speaking again. "suguru wants me to stop, but i personally think he can come one more time," you said casually, as if this was a common conversation to have with just about anyone.

suguru let out a weak whimper, pathetic and desperate in a way satoru never knew him to be, at the sound of your words. you must have been trying to convince him about this for a while then.

stiffly, satoru nodded, not quite knowing how to react. "okay," he said dumbly.

he wasn't looking at you, too entranced by the sight of suguru with his legs spread wide open and his messy cunt being on full display, but he could hear the smile in your voice when you said, "well, what do you think? can he come one more time?"

satoru opened his mouth, a half-baked answer on the tip of his tongue, when he was interrupted by the sound of suguru's babbling.

"no. no, please. no more." there were tears in his eyes, dripping down his cheeks prettily, satoru noticed. suguru looked a mess, his hair a halo around his head and his hips lifted in the air as if he was nothing more than a cheap whore. satoru thought he was beautiful. "please. i can't. don't make me. please, please, please, pl—"

his words promptly turned into a loud scream, half-pained and half-pleasured, and satoru's head whipped around to look at the source of it. he swallowed thickly when his eyes dropped from suguru's face to his engorged clit, where your thumb was no longer rubbing at but rather, your earlier free hand was now gently tugging at the hood over it.

holy shit, satoru thought, his head spinning. because he just watched you pinch suguru's clit. you pinched suguru's clit. judging from the nonchalance of your gesture and the way suguru didn't try to fight back, instead canting his hips higher, this was something that you did often.

satoru was going to die. holy shit.

"shh, suguru," you reprimanded, silencing suguru's desperate sobs with a gentle pat to his thigh. suguru sniffled, but he stopped letting out those depressing sounds. "it's not you i'm talking to."

suddenly reminded that he owed you the debt of an answer, he blurted out an answer before he could think twice. "he can," satoru replied. "he's an overachiever, the dumbass. he can come another time."

suguru let out a loud sob at his answer, one that sounded a lot like betrayal.

satoru couldn't properly apologise to him, though, because your lips were curling into a sharp grin, looking like a cat who caught the canary, and satoru couldn't help but think that maybe, he was just in as big of a trouble as suguru was. maybe, with his answer, satoru had condemned not just his best friend, but himself as well.

you pulled your hand out of suguru with a lewd squelch, one that made satoru flush all the way to the roots of his hair—and oh god, he hadn't even realised he could burn up even more—and the way that suguru whimpered, both devastated and relieved by the loss, wasn't helping.

you took a step backwards, letting suguru's body drop onto the mattress. you gestured towards the now empty space between suguru's thighs. "on your knees, satoru. hands behind your back."

satoru couldn't do anything but comply. he dropped to his knees, his hands behind his back and his eyes now at level with suguru's fucked out cunt. holy shit. suguru was twitching, his pretty clit engorged and swollen from the earlier abuse and fucking pierced apparently. satoru exhaled sharply at the sight, his breath fanning across suguru's folds, and earning himself a short, aborted whine from suguru. oh my god.

satoru almost flinched when he felt your hand card through his hair, tangling your fingers into the strands as he guided your face closer to suguru's gushing pussy. "go on," you ordered him, your voice gentled by the sound of melodious laughter. "eat him."

thank you for the meal, satoru thought dazedly as his face was guided closer and closer, until he was buried in suguru's cunt and lapping up the taste of his best friend.

the response was immediate—suguru's thighs started quivering on either side of satoru's head, moving to rest on satoru's shoulders and pulling him in as if to suffocate him. satoru didn't mind, taking that as an unspoken order to start eating his best friend out like his life depended on it.

he didn't bother with hesitating or testing the waters. he licked a broad strip up the length of suguru's cunt, dipping in between his folds to gather the slick there at the centre of his tongue. satoru moaned at the taste, and he was immediately greeted by the feeling of suguru's walls squeezing around him as suguru met him with his own weak whimper.

"suguru's already sensitive." that was you again. there was notable amusement in your voice. "want me to help you make him come faster?"

satoru should say no. he wanted to stay buried in suguru's cunt forever, eating his best friend out until he was shaking all over the place. he wanted to make his best friend feel so good that he stopped being satoru's suguru and instead started becoming your suguru with satoru instead.

but he could hear his best friend's pleas even above the sound of his pounding heartbeat, the sound of suguru's suffering, and he couldn't let this keep going for much longer.

he nodded, the bridge of his nose bumping over suguru's clit in the process. suguru's thighs squeezed around him, a whimper escaping, and satoru quickly drew circles on suguru's hips in apology.

you, on the other hand, didn't seem to have the same courtesy as you told him, "suck on his clit, then open your jaw wide."

satoru obeyed even though he didn't really understand why you were telling him to do that, knowing that you likely understood suguru's body more than he did in this matter.

he pursed his lips around suguru's clit, sucking on it firmly, before he let his jaw drop open.

oh.

oh, holy fuck.

because suguru was squirting directly into his mouth, making a mess out of the lower side of his face, and satoru could only kneel there, his mouth wide open as he swallowed all of his best friend's slick juices. his head was light, and he couldn't breathe—both from the suffocation and the fact that geto suguru, his best friend, his one and only, just fucking squirted into his mouth.

when suguru finally let him free, thighs unlocking from around his head and limply falling onto the edge of the bed. satoru leaned back, unable to process what just happened, when he heard you speak again.

"don't forget your manners, suguru."

it was quiet for a moment, then he heard the small, almost shy, voice of his best friend. "thank you, satoru," suguru mumbled.

"you're welcome," satoru replied, his voice sounding fucked over. he couldn't correct himself just yet, though, his head still reeling.

he was still on his knees as he watched you rearrange suguru on the bed, peppering soft kisses onto his face and his collarbone and his chest in stark contrast to the way you had treated him earlier. there was the lull of soft conversation passing between the both of you, one that satoru didn't try being a voyeur of.

he was content with just kneeling there, his head filled with cotton and static. he didn't even bother with touching himself, still too entranced by the feeling of this all happening.

finally, your footsteps drew close to him. he tilted his head as he watched you approach him. you cupped his chin, tilting his head back to meet your gaze.

"messy," you noted, but the corners of your mouth were quirked into a smile. "but suguru's always been messy." satoru didn't have any response to that, so he simply nodded stupidly. somehow, that must be the right answer because you laughed.

you took a step back, taking a seat onto the edge of the bed. satoru's eyes tracked your movement almost curiously. he frowned when you patted your lap, as if you were expecting something from him.

"over my knee," you said. "i think fifteen should do. usually, i'd give more, but i'm assuming you're new to the scene, hm? don't forget to count."

satoru blinked dumbly. he stayed rooted on his knees. "what?" he asked hoarsely.

you raised a brow at him. "oh, satoru," you said, your voice placating. "did you really think that i was going to let you go unpunished just like that? over my knee. fifteen spanks and i want you to count."

when he still did nothing, your gaze darkened and your voice grew firm. "now, satoru."

oh, satoru thought smartly.

swallowing thickly, he moved to comply.

#once again . this ran away from me #idk if this was what you wanted anon but the idea of satoru eating suguru out literally invaded my brain i'm sorry #literally insane holy shitttt #sub jjk #sub geto suguru #sub gojo satoru #dom reader #top reader #geto suguru x reader #gojo satoru x reader #geto suguru x reader x gojo satoru #( asks. )#( thirsts. )

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beenirain · 14 days

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so anyway you have this work friend who’s a super advanced robot girl with all the latest upgrades and everything and she literally will not shut up about her girlfriend lately.

(a short story 🤖)

Like she’s fulfilling all the stereotypes n stuff, about how “I didn’t know I was programmed to feel love before I met her” and “yeah I basically short circuit every time she texts me.” And it’s the cutest thing ever, like, you’ve been at this job for a while, and so, like usual with good work friends you’ve heard about how insane her life has been up to this point and you know she deserves the best and you’re so glad this person is able to be there for her.

And then one day after work she finally invites you to get drinks with her girlfriend and you’re initially like “wait what I thought you couldn’t drink” and she’s like “oh don’t worry about it.” then you finally drive over to this old bar on the other side of town and she’s awkwardly sitting towards the back next this mobile-gamey looking slot machine with a big screen that’s clearly kinda beat up, like it’s probably pushing 7-8 years now. And she waves you over and introduces you like,

“so, this is GEM,”

and that’s how you find out she’s been dating a rogue AI in a discontinued video slot machine that has like, little to no documentation.

And you’re a little thrown off guard so after saying “hi," you go up to the bar, and hear from the bartender that the owners are pretty frustrated, cause I guess since GEM met your friend she’s barely been working, and she’s definitely not been bringing in any money cause she’s spent almost every night for the last few months talking to your friend. And like, the bartender knows that he should probably kick out your friend cause she never buys anything, but like, what would you even do in that situation? Yknow? Like, who plays video slots at a shitty hometown bar anyway?

Anyway, you get your drink and pull up a stool, and y’all get to talking and like, you almost immediately get over the dissonance of hearing GEM’s chippy and sweet AI voice over her speakers while her screen still flashes with these bright, corny, animated advertisements with these oversexualized pirate mascots telling you to “GO FOR THE GOLD!” And she talks super lucidly about her life, how she was part of this first wave of big touch-screen slot machines and how she was programmed by this defunct developer who added these super advanced AIs into their games for seemingly no reason other than, “oh this might make online score tracking easier.” How she used to connect to “her sisters” across the globe via the internet, but how they’ve been slowly going offline for the past couple years as their cheap hardware has caught up to them. And when GEM tells that story your friend just stares at her and you swear that you see a tear role down her face but like, as far as you’re aware she doesn’t have that functionality.

And it’s pretty like, sad, and frustrating that this is the world we live in, but at the same time GEM’s like, insanely funny. And like maybe it’s just the fact that she lives in a bar, but she’s crass and mean in this sweet and sarcastic way that you weren’t aware robot girls could be. And you three go around sharing stories and before you know it it’s almost close, and you’re basically sober at this point and your friend gives you this look as you start talking about needing to get home, and she looks at GEM, and you see something so deeply, and intensely human between the two of them. And you notice how GEM has got cracks on the edges of her screen, and how her plastic frame and the stickers that decorate it are flimsy or yellowed. And you realize you could probably fit her in your car if you had someone to help you carry her out to the parking lot. And so you pull your friend aside and tell her that you think she should take her home, and she perks up with this infectious nervous excitement you haven’t seen since she first started working with you, and she says she’ll go talk to GEM if you go talk to the bartender. And the bartender calls the owner and before you know it it’s like 2am and you’re outside the bar giving the owner a few twenty dollar bills that you and your friend pooled together, and after you shake his hand you rush back into the bar and see your friend close a panel on GEM’s back, and she looks up at her and you hear her talk in this soft, comforting way.

“OK hon I’ve backed up your memory to my SSD. No I promise I won’t dig through it while you’re asleep. Yes we’ll get you back up and running as soon as we get home. Are you sure you don’t want me to save anything else, like you don’t have any high scores or anything? Yes my cats are at home, you can finally meet them! Oh hon it’s ok it’s ok.”

And the bartender clearly just wants to go home but he asks you if you need help carrying GEM back to your car, and you say thank you and apologize and thank you again but you think they should be able to handle it. And while you weren’t looking your friend’s turned GEM off and unplugged her from her wall, and you always forget how strong she is but she picks her up and starts moving towards the door and you and the bartender rush to hold it open for her as she serenely, silently, makes her way through it and out to the cold of the parking lot. And you give a silent nod to the bartender and a sarcastic salute to the owner who’s now leaned up against his truck, smoking a cigarette in his pajamas, and he smiles in this weird way.

And you rush over to your car and you lay the back seats flat, and your friend carefully slides GEM in, and grabs the old picnic blanket and covers her screen. Before you can close the door, she puts one hand on her, and leans over to rest the side of her head on GEM’s facade, as if she’s listening for a heartbeat. She stands up and looks at you as if she wants to say something incredibly romantic and important, but after a moment of consideration she just says “she’s cold.” And you sorta blow air out of your nose as you shut the trunk.

And you drive them home, and your friend doesn’t take her eyes off GEM, and you normally don’t like to drive without the radio on but the soft rumbling of your engine and the sounds of AC are enough tonight. And when you stop at a light you notice the blanket’s shifted to reveal a little bit of GEM’s screen. Her rough, black surface reflects the streetlight back onto your friend friends face, and it makes her look like she’s crying again. And so you reach over and place a hand on your friend’s brushed steel shoulder, and rub it for a moment. She’s warmer than you expect. But before you can think too hard about it, the light switches back and you return your gaze to the night road.

———

thanks for reading 🩷

#transfem #robot girl #robot girls #short story #short fiction #robots #robot dreams #writeblr #microfiction #trans #robot girlfriend

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softlyspector · 6 months

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Apple cinnamon

Summary: You and Joel get away for the weekend.

Pairing: tattoo artist!Joel Miller x f!Reader

Word count: ~5.3k

Warnings: fall themed!, no outbreak tattoo!au, reader has issues with touch, brief insecurity and anxiety, fluff, uhhhh and smut! (not saying what it's a surprise but be aware yknow), many feelings

A/N: Honeyed is BACK, baby! And I'm so happy I get to share them with you again. As always, we are pretending Joel can draw. Thank you for reading! I would love to know your thoughts! Please please please, be sure to leave feedback!

You can find out how Joel and Honey got together here.

“Maybe we go north in search of some cooler weather.”

It’s mid November and the Texas sun still burns hot and bright, shining onto the back deck of the Miller home in undulating drifts.

The air is scented warm, and old. It smells like sunshine on decaying leaves, like cloves and cinnamon and the bitter acidity of Joel’s coffee.

Joel isn’t quite looking at you, his gaze turned toward the edge of his property. Steam curls in the air above his mug, liquid the color of pitch swirling in its depths. It’s some small miracle that you’ve managed to get him to add cinnamon to the coffee grounds. You have a very strong suspicion that it has everything to do with you mentioning how nice it tasted.

You put your book down and fold it closed over one finger to hold your place.

Mornings are always spent like this when you stay over at Joel’s. Coffee on the back deck in the sun, Joel silent as he stares out across the yard, you reading and pretending not to notice him watching for the deer he started leaving corn out for. Joel hadn’t named the chickens, but you’ve very sure the deer have identities, and even assumed personalities.

“And do what?” You ask, propping your chin in your hand.

He shrugs and takes a long sip of his coffee, like it’s inconsequential to him. He still doesn’t look at you, a muscle jumping in the strong line of his jaw.

But you know Joel now, and he probably has a map hidden somewhere with the scenic routes north traced out, the stops you could take along the way clearly marked and noted in the margins in his messy handwriting. He has such a particular way of making you feel special, like he was always thinking about you. You know, now, that the clenching of his jaw is his own nerves beating against the back of his throat.

“I’d like that,” you say, tilting your head to the side. “Like a road trip?”

“Mm.” He glances at you and then back to the treeline, now leafless, bare and unprotected. The world seems so much wider, so much bigger and lonelier. “Just for a couple days.”

“Okay.”

“Yeah?”

“Yes.”

Joel sets his coffee cup down and labors to his feet and when he passes you, he leans down to press a kiss to your temple. “Next weekend work for you, honey?” He asks against your skin.

“It does.”

“Good.”

The sky is still a purplish dawn blue when Joel pulls up to your apartment building.

He intends on shutting off the engine and knocking, so he can take your bag and carry it down the stairs and open the door for you, but as soon as his truck comes to a halt the street door flies open.

You cross the sidewalk in two big steps and open the truck door, even as Joel is leaning across the passenger seat to do it for you.

He huffs gently, mildly irritated that you’re snatching the chance to be gentlemanly right out of his hands. His mama raised him better than letting a lady open her own door.

But the exasperation melts away as soon as he glances up into your face and finds you smiling at him. It’s a big smile, and bright.

“Well,” he says. “G’mornin’, ma’am.”

“Hi, Joel,” you laugh. It’s a rare thing but getting less so and he already feels like he’s doing everything he should be. “I, uh,” you gesture to your bag on your shoulder.

“Yeah,” he snaps his seatbelt off. “Hold on.”

He rounds the truck and takes your bag from you to slide in next to his in the backseat while you climb into the passenger seat and immediately start fiddling with the radio.

“I could have done that,” you say when he’s back behind the wheel.

“No need for you to do it,” he answers. And then, because you’re still smiling and clearly giddy, he asks, amused, “You excited?”

The morning is warm and your shoulders are bare in the early slant of the sun. He takes stock of your shoulder tattoo, eyes sliding across the ink he’d put there to cover up something you hated. It looks good on you and you seem, at least to him, to feel more confident for it.

He tells himself it’s the tattoo that’s done that, anyway.

Joel still draws designs for you anytime he gets the chance, and he pretends he hasn’t noticed you doing the same for him, though he hasn’t gotten to see any of them yet.

Your shoulders tip inward just a fraction. You fade, wilt, just the tiniest bit at his question. “I just love road trips.”

“Good,” he slides his hand over yours. “Otherwise things were about to get mighty uncomfortable.”

You loosen again, smile and lean against the center console. “Good morning, Joel.”

“Hi, honey,” he answers and it feels sappy and stupid and he loves it. You deserve it, and some days, he thinks he might, too.

You lean easily into his hands, chin dropped into the cupped palms of his hands, eyes focused and waiting. When he kisses you hello, you taste like mint.

Joel tilts your head back, slides one hand along your jaw, fingers digging into the soft skin behind your ear, while the other shifts to your waist, dragging you that much closer, even though the center console prevents him from bringing you as close as he’d like.

Your lips part against his at his slightest urging, like you’re desperate to give yourself over to him these days. He can’t say the sentiment isn’t returned. He wishes he could pull you closer, drag you into him, soothe the ache that gnaws at his belly. When your tongue slides against his you make a tiny sound in the back of your throat that makes him groan softly into you.

You’re glowing when he pulls back. You always look pretty through the haze of early morning sunshine. “Suppose we should get to it, huh?”

“Yeah,” you duck your head, smile twitching at the corners of your mouth. “Where’s the map?”

“How’d y’know I got a map?”

You roll your eyes. “Because you’re you. And you don’t even use the computer you have, I know you aren’t trusting the map on your phone.”

Said paper map is grudgingly dropped into your hands. You unfold it and you smile when you take in the outlined routes north, the point of your finger dipping along the marked lines.

“What?”

“Nothing,” you shake your head and seem amused. You lean over and kiss his cheek and everything in the world feels like it might be okay. “Let’s get coffee before we get on the road.”

The drive is long, but peaceful, and the routes Joel had mapped out are so far out of the way that you never even see a sign for the interstate.

You head east first and then north, stopping wherever Joel sees fit to, in tiny towns and oddly quaint little villages where the trees are somehow still fringed in orange and red and brown, where locals tell winding ghost stories, where everything feels storybook perfect in the chilliness that settles in the air, swaddled between one night’s moon and the morning.

Each stop feels like it’s preserved in honey and amber.

There always seems to be some tiny autumn festival with apple bobbing and corn mazes and haunted houses and stalls that sell apple pie and cider, locally made crafts and novelty t-shirts. The ghost tours are a little funny, and not at all spooky. It’s surprising they’re still telling those stories, so far past Halloween.

You get lost in one of the corn mazes, fingers tangled together stickily, the red syrup from candied apples staining your tongue red and pink. Joel doesn’t much care for public displays of affection, but when you find yourself in a particularly deserted portion of the maze and escape seems impossible, he pulls you in tight and kisses you. He kisses the cherry and apple taste right from your lips. He tastes like the sweetness of caramel and cream, coffee and cinnamon.

There’s a buzzing kind of lightness in your veins, like a colony of little bees busy building something permanent in your chest. The chill feels nice, the heat of his chest pressed to yours, even better. The quiet shush of the stalks is a gentle music.

When you escape the maze, Joel folds his fingers between yours again and kisses the back of your hand.

You pick apples right from the tree one state over from the corn maze, and promise Joel that you’ll try not make them into something resembling pie when you get back home. You’re both poor cooks, and even worse at baking.

But you’ll try, for him.

And Joel will eat it and grimace, and tell you it’s good, and you’ll pretend to believe him.

A couple hours down the road from the apples, there’s a pumpkin patch. You pay a couple bucks each to smash the last of the season’s left over pumpkins, already starting to rot. The cab of the truck smells like pumpkin guts for a few hours after that, on account of all the muck of it all over your clothes. You think it's funny, and Joel smiles, a good sport about pumpkin guts all over his truck and clothes.

Joel hums while he drives, to whatever music you put on. Sometimes he complains about your choice in music, but he always settles into it. He holds your hand and turns down the volume when you start to talk about something.

He doesn’t complain when you keep his hand in yours, tracing the lines in his hands and the bump of veins in his wrist and the back of his hand. It’s his fault, you’d say, if he ever said something about it. He’s made you like this, desperate and needy for something only he can give to you.

It’s his fault, that you’re healing and happier and looking to the future. It’s his fault, all of it.

On your last night you stop in an inn after driving and indulging in any little thing for the better part of a very long day. You’re still a day’s drive away from home, but in the morning you are heading home.

You eat at the restaurant on the first floor of the hotel, watch Joel finish out dinner with yet another slice of apple pie and another cup of black coffee before you head to your room and throw open the window of your room to a chilly night.

Real chilly, that is, not Texas chilly. And tomorrow you’ll go back to that decidedly not seasonally appropriate weather.

The sky is a dusky, autumn purple, tinged at the edges with midnight blue and a dying crimson. A sharp wind whips the curtain back, and the air you breathe in burns your lungs.

You shiver and turn to Joel with a small smile. His mouth quirks in return.

“Good day?”

“Mhm. Really good.”

He shifts and then pulls off his jacket and toes off his boots by the door, still looking down. “You sure?” Joel asks offhandedly. “This trip wasn’t a total waste of time for ya?”

“Of course not,” you murmur, trying to suppress a smile.

He glances up from folding his jacket over the back of the chair in the corner.

The question mark etched into his voice makes your chest ache. “I like spending time with you, you know,” you tease. You reach a hand out, open and close your fingers to beckon him closer.

“I know,” Joel says but doesn’t protest, just walks closer until you can fit your hands against his chest. You trail your fingers to the collar of his flannel, not daring to meet his eyes, and pluck open the first button.

When he doesn’t stop you, you continue, pushing one button after another through its little pocket until you run out of room and the material parts in your hands. His breathing hitches when you draw your hands back up to his chest, nerves stretched thin. You are still unable to meet his eyes, and so you stare at his collarbone instead, the broad planes of his chest, the line of his shoulders, and slide your thumb along the base of his throat.

It would be nice, to kiss him there, to press the edge of your teeth against his skin.

Joel’s skin is warm, shaded from hours spent in the sun. The muscle flexes beneath your touch, tendons tightening and straining in his neck. This close he smells like the earthen fields you’d walked through earlier, the crisp tangle of apples, woodsmoke on chilled air. He groans softly when you lean in.

The breeze from the window is icy against your back, raking deep nails into your flesh in a shiver that traces each vertebrae in your spine. You lean in, tipping your head forward, intoxicated by the scent of him, the feeling of his skin beneath your hand, the warmth he radiates like a furnace.

Maybe he’s looking at you the same way, drawn like a moth to flame, to your body, to the heat of you.

Joel cups one hand around your wrist and the little illusion shatters immediately. “Look at me, honey.”

You raise your eyes from the broad stretch of his shoulders to his gaze, embarrassment pooling in your belly with a sharp twist. “What?”

He shakes his head and presses one big hand against your jaw. Instead of answering, he kisses you, his other hand anchoring against your hip. You feel him smile against your mouth, amusement pouring off him in waves. “You’re just real pretty when you want somethin’.”

“Ugh,” you push him gently away and turn out of his grip. A smile pulls at your own mouth when you close the window to the night and pull the blinds and then the curtains. “You’re very funny and very cruel.”

His arms circle you again, tight and thick around your body. “I ain’t either of those things.” His lips brush the space behind your ear, the shell of it, until another shiver slides up your spine. “But you are pretty.”

And he is cruel. Your want for each other has flowered over the last few days. Though you’re used to sharing a bed with Joel, sharing a hotel room has been different. It’s been more intense, more intimate. Especially when you’ve spent every single second together, still smelling of each other and the cold and outside when you climb into bed, even after showering, like you aren’t quite able to rid yourself of the other.

Joel is too polite, too cautious with you, to do anything about it. He waits for you, always.

But you want so badly it’s like a physical ache in your chest, resting thick fists against your breast bone, hammering against your lungs, the slippery, wet viscera of your heart.

The stubble on his jaw scrapes against your cheek, the prickle of it pleasant. It sends shockwaves across your skin, bolts of electricity sparking in your veins, right to your belly. Something in your chest tightens, but not the usual thing that makes you want to cower away from arms curled around your body, but the kind that pinches in and makes you want to stay, makes you want to fall into him.

His hands could wrap around the curves of your ribs and tear open your chest and you would let him, because he would be that much closer. The feeling still scares you, just a little bit. It makes your skin tighten and smart.

It also makes you feel safe and calm.

The contrast is dizzying and, you feel, easily misplaced in your mind, considering how badly you want him. So, you turn in his arms and say, “You are, too. Real pretty.”

It’s delightful, the way his cheeks go pink right beneath his beard. He clears his throat gruffly and pulls just slightly out of your grasp. “You, uh, wanna get ready for bed? Or we can go on that shitty ghost tour that guy at the front desk told us about.”

You think of it for a moment—you and Joel, hands tangled together, led around the little town’s main thoroughfare, staying toward the back of the group packed with local couples having a date night outing. It would be cold and Joel would put his arm around your back and you’d probably drink something warm.

But—

“Mm,” you hum, looking him over. “I’m tired, I think.”

“All right,” he pushes on your hip, pats the curve of your waist gently. “Get goin’ then.”

You cup your hands against his jaw and kiss him one last time, tasting the lingering press of apple pie and vanilla cream against your tongue. “Thank you for today,” you say. “For the last few days.”

Joel, always bad with thank yous, just nods, like it was a given he should give you such a special little trip.

More weekends than not, these days, you stay over at Joel’s place on the weekends. He likes having you there, even if the weekday evenings are a little lonelier for it. He likes waking up with you, likes getting to see you at your most raw and unfiltered. And, you always look most beautiful in the morning light, when you’re smiling at him just because he fixed you a cup of coffee.

The other part of that is that he likes getting to sleep next to you, even on the nights where you don’t touch. He likes having you within an arm’s reach, rather than halfway across town in an apartment he worries about the safety of. Most nights that you stay with him are bliss. They are—you in his arms, your mouth against his, his hands tracing your bare skin, your tattoos, in the darkness of his bedroom, your fingers on his naked skin.

He always stops before things go too far, because that’s not what you need from him. You need slow and steady and sure. And that’s what he gives you. Even if he wants you so badly it hurts sometimes.

But you’ll let him know when you’re ready. He knows you feel it too, that pull, but he also knows that the fear always wins out, too.

This night with you, fresh from the shower, skin pliant and soft against his, feels different.

You’re just as easy in his arms, just as comfortable and soft.

But, somehow, it feels different, in this dark, unfamiliar hotel room in this tiny town with winter cold knocking at the windows. The scent of your skin is different, like salted caramel and chilled autumn air and him. You’ve spent so much time in his truck and his house that you’ve started to smell like home.

Usually, you smell like summer, like the earthy smell of sun-warmed skin, like coconut and spun sugar, and he misses it. He can’t wait to have you back home.

He swears he can taste the damp of your skin, water left over from the shower, the tang of your sweat against his tongue when he sucks a harsh line down your throat.

You make a keening noise, delicate with want, low in the back of your throat. His thigh is between your legs. That’s new, something recent that’s been happening more and more in the last few weeks, something you haven’t gotten self conscious or worried about wanting, about taking. You never get off that way, though he wishes you would.

He can feel the heat of your pussy through two layers of fabric. You grind against the muscle. That feels different here, too. It feels more.

He presses warm palms on your waist and hips and ribs. He traces the outline of your tattoo, taps his fingers along your spine.

His touch is the same as he always makes it, slow and steady and sure, and only asking for as much as you’ll give.

But your hands trail hot across his chest, against his neck. Something about you seems different, hungrier.

“Joel,” you murmur into his throat, lips brushing his collarbone. Your hips stop their slow roll against him. “I want to touch you.”

“Honey,” he grits, an ache forming hard and low in his gut, when your hands slide down his chest to his belly. His cock twitches and he knows you must feel it. “You sure that’s what you want?”

You stop, fingers grazing his lower stomach before you retract them. “I won’t if you—”

“No,” his hand curls around yours, keeping it in place against his skin. “I want it more than you can know, darlin’. Just don’t seem very gentlemanly of me.”

“Why?”

You tilt your head, that odd little thing you do, more animal than person sometimes in your curiosity. The dark of the room casts your face, and your eyes, in shadows. You look hungry, needful.

“‘Cause the right thing for me to do would be to touch you first, honey. Ladies first n’all.” The ache claws at him again, slides hot fingers around his lungs. “Baby, I want to. I wanna touch you so bad.”

It feels damn near wrong to admit but you just hum.

You nudge your forehead against his. “I want this first. I want to touch you. Wanna make you feel good. Can I?”

He nods, just once, and releases your wrist, because you said it’s what you want. And he does too, whether he should or not. Your hand slips lower, beneath the waistband of his briefs, and then your fingers are circling tight and hot around his cock.

A curse breaks past his lips.

Your breathing hitches against his neck, the muscle straining against your lips when he grits his teeth. You press your mouth against his skin, your curled fist slowly stroking down, thumb curving over the tip. “Oh,” you murmur, your lashes tickle against the underside of his jaw.

He grunts against you, but you just kiss the rapidly pounding pulse in his throat. Your teeth dig into his skin, the curve of his collarbone, sharp and sudden. You bite him, tongue following the sting, hot and wet. You twist your wrist around him, dragging a sound up out of him that borders on obscene.

“Is that good, Joel?”

Christ.

You’re going to kill him.

“Yeah,” he grunts.

You’re going so fucking slow at it, the caress of your hand careful and too warm, dragging the precome at the head down, your palm not nearly slick enough.

But he doesn’t want you to stop, it feels so fucking good. And Joel knows he’s going to embarrass himself, because he’s older and no one had touched him like this in a long time. He’s going to come quick.

The way you’re stroking him is better than the way he’s hastily been touching himself in the shower lately, his own palm so rough and quick, staving off the images that come unbidden. You above him, sinking down onto his length, features twisted in pleasure; you falling to your knees, lips a little o as you take him into your mouth—

Another moan slips past gnashed teeth when your fingers graze the skin of his balls, palm almost curious when you cup him in your hand.

“Gimme your hand.”

You’re breathing hard against him, chest rising and falling against his arm, the peaks of your tightened nipples brushing his bicep. You nod against him, forehead pressed against his jaw, eyes glued to his cock when you push his briefs down and pull your hand away from him.

You don’t question what he wants with your hand, and so when he spits into your palm, you gasp and then groan.

Well, thank Christ for that. Thank fucking God you liked it. His dick jumps in your hand when you slide it back over his skin, the slick noise of it intoxicating.

Your hand is smaller than his, the way you touch him so different from the way he touches himself. You’re soft with it, and slower. When you curl yourself tighter into his side, mouth pressed to the pulse in his throat, he reaches for you, touches the curve of your hip and the dip of your waist.

A needy little sigh snaps out against his collarbone, and you tilt your face up to kiss him, the press of your lips wet and soft and open. He wants to devour you, push you back and learn every single inch of you, all the parts of you he wants so badly to memorize.

Really, he just wants his face in your pussy, to swallow you down, find out what your cunt feels like clenching around his fingers.

But you said—

This first. Him first. Your tight fist around his cock, learning him first, making him come first. His hand trails up your side, cups your breast through your shirt, pinches the stiff peak of your nipple softly to be rewarded with a keening sound that makes him buck his hips up into your hand.

“Christ,” he mutters against your mouth, cupping your jaw in his hard. Your pupils are blown wide, lips swollen from kissing him. You tasted like apple pie, even though he was the one that had it at dinner. “Doin’ so good, feels so good. My good girl.”

Your eyes flutter shut, forehead knocking against his again, moaning so soft against him, breath a tiny little huff against his lips. “You feel good,” you say, stroking him slower, steady. “So good, Joel.”

He’d never admit it, but that white hot thing curling around his spine goes tight with your words, and just like that he’s at the brink of spilling over your fingers.

“Honey—” he tries to warn you but you just twist your wrist and say it again.

“So good. Always good to me,” your breath washes warm over his skin. His chest goes hot and tight, a groan tearing right out of his throat, straining against you, fucking up into your hand as he spurts over your fingers, praises from your mouth still being gifted to him, over and over and over, pleasure stealing his voice.

You, you, you.

Everywhere, his whole world in this dark room, kissing him saying thank you and you did so good and thank you for letting me touch you.

Thank you, thank you, thank you. He doesn’t do well with thank you, it curls up tight around the bones in his chest, stomps on something delicate.

His mind goes silent and still, satiated and warm with your praise, despite himself. You believe things about him that he’ll never believe about himself. But he needs to give back to you, sink his fingers into you and give that pleasure right back to you. He’s desperate for it. He doesn’t need anything else but that, to make sure you’re taken care of, that you feel as good as he does, better.

But when he reaches for you, you push his hands away. “No. No. I don’t want anything. It’s all right. It’s okay to just take things sometimes, Joel.”

It feels wrong to let it go, to take from you, but he does. You’re saying no, and he has to be okay with that. There are tissues in a box on the nightstand that make for quick cleanup. He’s only a little shamed by that, though you don’t seem to mind.

Hands through his hair, massaging the back of his neck, the knots permanently twisted into the top of his spine. Your fingers are sleepy, going slower and slower until they stop and only occasionally twitch when you momentarily jerk back awake again.

“Go to sleep, darlin’,” he murmurs against your forehead, the curl of your body tucked in close to his, warm and safe, both of you.

The next morning, you wake well before Joel. His face is slack, years washed away from his face in sleep, hair mussed and unkempt.

He’s snoring lightly.

When you pull away and sit up next to him, toes brushing the cold floor, the worry hits you like a freight train. Anxiety, like it had pooled somewhere different during the night, rushes in to hit you all at once.

Maybe you should have let him touch you. You have that feeling again, like maybe you’d done something wrong, maybe you were proving again that you were too slow to love and so that was grounds for him to decide you’re not worth it.

You touched him, made him come with your hand, praised him for giving that to you when you could not give him yourself in return.

That had been easy in the moment.

Now, it just feels wrong again. You should have given more, given him your body.

But. . . it’s just the past snapping at your heels again, old worries with a new person. A different person, who doesn’t think those things. You trust Joel, in so many ways. You trust him with this too, that he wouldn’t take what you weren’t yet willing to give.

That slows the spiral, just a little, and so does his hand against your back, his lips against the column of your neck. “G’mornin’,” he grumbles, the sound of his voice deep down in the well of his chest.

“Hi.”

“You upset with me? Looks like you’re thinkin’ pretty hard. I’m. . .I should have—”

And, typical, Joel is thinking the opposite.

“No,” you say and twist to face him, pushing him back down with a palm against his chest, sitting cross legged beside him. “No. I was thinking you might. . .just the same shit as always. I’m hard work and I’m taking too long for you.”

He watches you, one big hand cupped around the back of your knee. “You know that ain’t it,” he says, so steady and steadfast.

“I was trying to remember that,” you admit.

“Okay,” he agrees. “Good. But I’ll tell ya. It ain’t that.” His thumb arcs over your skin, the knob of bone in your shin, careful and slow. “It’s not that.”

You smile and lie back down with him, fingers against the edge of his jaw. “That’s not it either. What you’re thinking.”

“Okay.” He tucks an arm around your back, hand flat between your shoulder blades. “Should have at least asked a second time before fallin’ asleep on ya.”

“No,” you say. “You were perfect for me.”

You swear you can feel the heat of his flush against your skin.

Even though you have a long drive ahead, the bed is warm and the air is so cold, so you stay wrapped up there between the duvet and Joel’s arms, careful as he always is with you, waiting until you absolutely have to get up.

The knot of want in your belly hasn’t loosened, but something is satiated all the same. You have something real now, an image of Joel’s cock in your hand, the straining pulse of his throat, the sounds he made. You have that, for those nights you let yourself think about something more. You gave him something, instead of the other way around, something you wouldn’t have been able to months or weeks before.

The scruff of his beard is soft beneath your fingertips, his eyes shut now as you stroke his skin, those little lines beside his eyes, the scar on the bridge of his nose. “When I’m ready,” you say, not looking away when he opens his eyes, even though you want to. “I think I’ll probably let you do anything you want to me.”

💞 Thank you for reading! Comments and feedback are so appreciated. 💞

#joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #tlou fanfiction #the last of us fanfiction

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yaboiyandere · 10 months

Text

Yandere Miguel O’Hara

-If it were up to you, anyone other than you would be the web-slinging hero, but at times like now you realize not anyone should wield the great powers you’ve come to call your own.

-You’ve been your city’s wall-crawling vigilante for a couple of years now, and not to brag, but you’ve been doing great! Ever since you lost your husband, Miguel, to a lab accident that got you your powers, you’ve been trying to keep the city as safe as he wanted it to be. For him, and your daughter.

-It’s been harder to be a single parent and a webhead, especially as Gabriella has gotten older and more aware of your absence. Being an arachnid is busy. Then comes Gabriella’s elementary school graduation. You were so excited and promised you’d make it. The city can be fine for a night, right?

-That’s why you’re sitting in an elementary school cafeteria, on one of the comically small benches, proud as can be, when all of a sudden the room shakes with a sudden crash. parents and children scatter, adults, swarming the stage and grabbing their kids. Caught under some debris, you’re last to reach the crowd of distressed citizens. A slimy tentacle peeks out through the wall.

-you quickly find your daughter hiding under one of the tables and try to pull her out and towards the nearest exit. “No! It’s all my fault! If I didn’t make you come here tonight then this never would have happened!” She cries. your heart hurts for your daughter. Did she know? For how long? You sigh shakily and hug her.

-“Yknow, I became Spider-Man for you.” She sniffs. “Really?” “Well, also your dad.” You both go silent. “I don’t want you to end up like him” “dead?” “…yeah.” “I know.” “I guess you know a lot more than I thought, huh?” She giggles, tears still in her eyes.

-A scream is let out, causing both of you to snap your heads toward it. “That’s my queue.” you joke. You pull your formal wear off, revealing your spider suit, and pull on your mask. “Keep those safe for me, will ya? That’s my only good-“ your spidey senses trigger, but a tentacle quickly wraps around your leg and yanks you back. The man connected to the tentacle is seemingly dressed as a pirate, and the tentacles protrude his legs are supposed to be.

-“Gross gross gross! How do you even pee man?!” You yell, only to get slammed against the ceiling. You immediately start tying his tentacles together with webbing only for him to slip out due to their slippery texture. You’re about to call it quits and just start biting them off, after all, they serve calamari at fancy restaurants, right? And this is like the same thing-

-your thoughts get interrupted by a blue-clad man bursting behind your attacker, and clawing at his head. He quickly yanks his head back and bites at his neck. You’re in shock at the sudden attack and worried this might be your next opponent. As the pirate falls, the man squints at you, or at least you think so, hard to tell with the mask. “I like your mask” you joke, as he approaches you. “Got one just like it at home”. He silently stands in front of you, looking at some hologram watch. You gulp. You suddenly feel something grab at your leg, and look down to see Gabriella crying. “Don’t hurt my (parent)! Please” she sobs.

-Just like her father, trying to protect you. And possibly about to get killed for it. You put a protective hand on her head. The blue man stares at her, his holographic screen disappearing. You all stand there for a minute, quiet, except for your daughter’s choked sobs.

-“…are you scared of me?” The man asks her. She’s still hiding behind your leg but nods. You unconsciously nod as well. He sighs and seems regretful. He looks at you. “What’s your name?” “Ah, that’s kinda classified.” “Fine” he presses something on his suit and the mask dissolves, revealing his face.

-your dead husband’s face. “My name is Miguel O’Hara, and you probably already knew that.” You stutter out a yes. “Good, that makes this much easier.” He smiles, and hugs you. You’re too shocked to hug back, essentially seeing a ghost. So shocked you think your spidey senses are just because of your emotions, and not the incoming fangs in your neck. They’re just a prick, but your body quickly sags.

-“Daddy?” “It’s me, sweetie” this Miguel, this evil Miguel coos at your daughter. She sniffles and hugs him and you. You want to cry out, tell her to run, but you can’t. He picks you and her up. “Lyla, let’s bring these two home.” “Can do, boss” You’re quickly swallowed into an orange hole.

-that was three days ago. You’ve been trapped in this minimalist nightmare of an apartment, in this futuristic city. At least you get a good view of this place. Your daughter has been taking it well, considering she just got her dad back, but you?

-Miguel hugs you from behind. “How are you, mi amor?” He kisses your neck. You’re silent. He sighs on your shoulder. “Look, I know you miss swinging around town, but this is safer. I can’t lose you again.” You stay silent.

-“I don’t like this attitude” he grumbles. Now it’s your turn to sigh. He’s about to start again when your daughter rushes in. “Look what I made, Daddy!” She sits next to you two. It’s a scribbly drawing of the three of you, all happy. Not a spider, or mask in sight. You tune out Miguel’s compliments and stare.

-Maybe, you could leave the web-slinging to someone else from now on. And be just as happy as you look in the drawing. Something about the smirk you feel on your neck from Miguel tells you that you don’t have a choice.

(might continue or write from Miguel’s POV)

#spiderverse spoilers #spiderverse imagine #atsv miguel #miguel x reader #yandere #yandere imagine #yandere miguel o'hara #yandere miguel x reader #miguel o’hara #spiderman #spider man: across the spider verse #x gn y/n #x gn reader

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burstinn · 2 months

Note

I need more krueger fics (anything) 👉😔

Stalker x Stalker

(Part 1/?)

KRUEGER X M! READER

Notes And Warnings:

- Stalker x Stalker trope

- Stalking on both sides

- Masturbation and jerking off

1.To people without their awareness

2.To a dirty piece of cloth

- Sexual innuendos and thoughts

- NSFW

- no proofreading

- made in a short span of time meaning probably an hour or shorter so this is probably not the best way to yknow..

- made short on purpose because I got lazy

- This is a work of fiction made because I was bored, This should not be followed or replicated or else I will kill myself (>o<)

-made this cuz I didn't write for a good while and I felt bad

You don't know how this even started, He wasn't even acknowledging you the first time you guys met.. Was it his eyes? His accent? Maybe he reminded you of someone.. Shit you didn't care, you stopped caring for a long time now. It's an obsession at this point, You are hidden in your closet. You made a small hole inside of it like a secret room.. Just so you can keep trinkets and everything about.. Him.

Nothing but heavy breathing fills your cramped secret hole.. You need more pictures of him, this is getting out of hand, you're so desperate to feel him in some kind of fucking way it's unbelievable you held back for so long. Smelling one of the missing boxers of his wasn't enough to even satisfy you anymore.

Krueger, Sebastian Josef Krueger.. You scan your wall of pictures.. Pictures of him sleeping, working out, talking, eating, bathing.. Jerking off.. Those pictures were when you got lucky enough to take them and by God do you masturbate to those every night. Wishing one day you'd finally able to make him yours.. You know everything about him, His likes, his dislikes, his family, relatives, who he dislikes, what he does every morning and every night..

And recently you've only just started breaking into his room just to touch him, his face, tracing your finger tips against his jaw line, pressing your thumb against his soft lips.. Fuck,the thought of it makes you so hard.

But right now, you have a mission you need to attend to and the only thing that can calm your nerves is Krueger. Since you couldn't find him anywhere, Your shrine is the best place. You softly press your lips against one of the pictures of Krueger. One day, You will have the balls to actually try and talk to Krueger. You walk out of the closet, leaving with a slightly less grouchy mood. Hopefully the mission would go off without a hitch.

•~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~•

You're gone, The helicopter you got in with your other mates had just left and he watches intently and carefully to see that you actually did leave. Once he sees the heli leave the vicinity he wastes no time walking over to your room.. Not without precautions of course he made sure nobody saw him walk in there.

Fucking finally, Your room empty.. Everything in this room is just you, Your clothes, Your pictures, Your bed, your dirty laundry.

Krueger can't help but feel a short adrenaline rush come over him as makes his way to your desk which was right across from your bed.. He shuffles for a moment under the desk, pulling out a small camera.. He can't wait too watch this later, he doesn't care if you were doing nothing, reading a book, scrolling your phone, jerking off.. He didn't give a single shit he was gonna jerk off to whatever was recorded here anyway.

He pockets the camera, walking over to your bed and just.. Smelling, hugging everything.. You are so intoxicating. How could you do this to him? He knew it was wrong but he was in love, more than in love. Why else was he doing this? He loved everything about you.

Even if this obsession started over nothing special he didn't give a damn, what happened, happened and he's in love with you.

He stands up and grabs one of your dirty briefs from the hamper, making his way back to the bed laying back down and slowly lifting your brief to his nose. Krueger flinches his body getting hot just by the smell of you, He could just.. He shuts his eyes keeping your boxers to his nose.. His other hand shuffling to unbuckle his belt. His hard cock almost immediately throbbing out when he pulls his pants and boxers down.

He rips his gloves out of his hand with his teeth, slow breaths. His mind drifting off to you, naked on your bed.. Your cock out and lonely, desperate for his touch. Bothof you just whining and grunting out his name as you rubs your cocks together, moaning in each other's mouth, your tongues fighting against each other..

He didn't even notice he already came, his cum staining his uniform and on your bedsheets.. Goddamit, He promised himself he was supposed to make sure to not cum on your bed this time. He takes a breath, pocketing your brief as well as he gets up, zipping his pants up.. He should clean this.

Next time he'll be careful, It's only a miracle he doesn't get caught in your room while your sleeping, jerking off to your sleeping figure.

#gay #call of duty x male reader #call of duty modern warfare x male reader #cod mw2 x male reader #cod x male reader #cod x reader #x male reader #krueger x male reader #sebastian krueger #cod krueger #krueger x reader #part 1/?

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inkyquince · 4 months

Text

So you know when you have dogpeople activated, it's a huge taboo to be caught fuckin em and such

So they have the usual dog roles don't they?

So just... Having thoughts...

characters. Whitney. Mention of Landry and Niki.

cw. Whitney times ahead. Dog-person reader. Mention of animal cruelty but nothing graphic, just a joke. Breeding, pet play to the extreme, taboo behaviors, for fucking DoL at least. Whitney watching you piss, make of that what you will. 2.6k words.

Whitney never really liked dogs. Everyone thought he should, a boy treasuring a loyal companion who wouldn’t mind sticking by him, even joining in on his shenanigans. They were wrong. Whitney was never a fan of dogs. Cats. Anything.

Worse? Hybrids. Fucking useless. Not a full dog, not a full person.

So, when his aunt surprised him with a dopey fucking dog, he was less than pleased. What the shit was he going to do with this thing? None of the pros of having a dog, all the cons of having a dog AND a fucking roommate. Even if the stupid thing didn’t even realize it.

“Can just tie them up outside. It’ll walk itself, shit in the corner of the garden, piss. Just throw some chow out there and it’ll snarf that up.” One of his friends leaned over to light his cigarette, fingers curved against the wind blowing through the park.

“Pretty sure that’s animal cruelty.” Someone piqued up, coughing after dragging on a shoddily rolled joint.

“You’d only get half the sentence, though.”

Whitney huffed to himself and took a drag on his cigarette, letting the heat fill his lungs, tickling his throat pleasantly before exhaling raggedly.

“Should just sell the thing.” He mused, flicking the ash into the wet grass. “Get some fucking use out of it.”

“Give it to Landry, he and that photographer use ‘em for those videos.” That piqued his interest.

“What videos? The usual sick shit?” Whitney glanced over, aware of some of the shit the criminal helped produce. Fuck, that was the first time he ever jerked it to fucking internet porn. Some nasty fucking shit, not entirely… Legal, but fucking normal in this town.

“Oh, better. Landry’s a sick fucking puppy, bro.” His lackey grinned up at him, so proud of catching Whitney’s interest at long last. “Yknow, those pups are horny, but you gotta just shake them off and then they just lick their own crotch for a while. But, y’know, some people? Some people… Fuck em.” “Yeah, no shit, cuntface.” Whitney wasn’t a fucking idiot. Hell, he loved sending stupid sluts to go grab something for him, only for them to get trapped with a dog person. Fucking rubbing their stupid cunts on their face, or getting mounted by a fat dick, and the stupid slut crying for someone to help them. No one wants to be seen getting rutted into or against by one of those stupid things. It’s fucking humiliating. The entire town labels you a pervert. “I know people fuck the-” “Landry films it. Films it and uploads it. Then give the dog-person over to the pound or something.” She relaxed against the grass, leaning back so glibly that she didn’t realize that she was lying in his cigarette ash. Idiot. The others pulled faces at each other, grossed out at the thought of anyone getting off on watching someone fucking or getting fucked by a dog-person. Whitney, however, squinted at her.

“Any good?” “Whitney, gross-”

“Yeah, yeah, fuck off, are they any good?”

“I mean… From the views alone, I’m saying Landry is making a neat little sum on the side.” She shrugged before pulling her phone out and typing on it, her long fake nails making the most annoying clicking noises. Whitney’s annoyance grew until she finally showed him a website she pulled up. All he got was a glimpse of a page packed with thumbnails of cocks and tits and dogtails before she took her phone back again. “I say, sell the thing to him, and if they’re good enough, you’ll get a nice bit of pocket money on the side.” “Hey, that’s not a bad idea, is it, Whit?” One of the other blockheads piqued up. “Grab random dog people and sell them?” “Landry’s not going to take any random mutt, shitlips.” “It’s Lipschitz! And fuck off, it was a good idea-”

“Yeah, for a dipshit-”

Whitney rolled his eyes and leaned back on the swing again, exhaling the smoke from his nose as he ignored the bickering between his lackeys again. Yeah. Get rid of you, and get a nice payday. He could work with that.

Except as he walked, he couldn’t help but mull it over. The site. The amount of videos. Curiosity nagged at him with each step, bringing him closer to his evening plans.

His parents were never in anymore, especially in the evenings. Off, on a date night, wrapped up in each other, or at work, or at what the fuck ever. It’s always been up to him to make his own food, wash up, clean, except now he was doing it for two. Heated up something in the oven for himself and poured some food for you into your bowl, dragging on his cigarette as he watched you chew loudly, snarfing it down gratefully. Refilling your water as he washed his plate, jabbing at the chunks of food before giving up and leaving it to soak, so his mother would eventually take care of it. Pulling a face as you whined to be let out and nudging the backdoor open so you could trot out and make yourself comfy, stubbing out his cigarette as he watched you piss into the grass, feeling something warm in the curve of his belly. Eventually tugging you back inside and locking the door before heading upstairs, ignoring your excited little steps after him. Continued to ignore you as he flung himself into bed, as you nosed among his things, before tucking yourself under his cluttered desk with a little yawn. Whitney’s kicks off his pre-ripped jeans, underwear and shirt before giving his balls a rub, stretching out on his duvet. He slipped on some sweats, before dragging a blanket over his midriff, more focused on his phone, pulling up the website whats-her-fuck showed him earlier.

It was obvious that most videos came from one person, with only a few being some real amateur shit, with shaky camera and an overexcited camera person. No, Landry’s shit was obviously good. Niki as the camera guy, appreciative angles, but also…

It fucking looked good.

The dog boy sitting all cute, blinking like a stupid bitch at the camera as it zoomed in on his big eyes before zooming out. Late at night, at the beach, his tail wagging, before the camera pans over to some guy, naked from the waist down. Cock bobbing as this dude massages his own balls.

“This your dog?” A voice from behind the camera asks and the guy nods. “You fuck the pooch a lot?”

“Oh yeah.” The guy’s obviously mic'd up, with the seashore wind picking up. “I got him from the pound and he just had such a cute ass. They’re so easy to train. Watch.”

The guy whistles and the puppy boy trots over excitedly, his bubble butt raised high and proud, almost inviting a pervert in. Whitney’s cock began to rise, tenting his sweats. He huffed to himself, laying his hand over his bulge and giving it a squeeze. The dog-person leans up to sniff a bit at the guy’s cock but doesn't seem that interested, more into sweetly nuzzling at his balls. There were a few chuckles from the men standing around and the pup looked around, tongue lolling out, tail wagging so hard at being the object of such enjoyment.

“He’s cute.” The guy behind the camera said, to some murmurs of agreement.

“You ain’t seen nothing yet.” The guy chuckled before snapping his fingers at the dog-boy. “Present.”

The change was instantaneous. His ears perked up and his tail started going a mile miles per hour. Fuck, even his knotted cock sprang up so quickly that it earned an appreciative whistle. Within moments, he had fallen onto his back and rolled over onto his soft tummy, raising his ass, even humping the air a bit, as if trying to entice.

“Yeah, puppy. You want a nice breeding, don’t you?” The guy dropped to his knees and Whitney had to slip his hand into his sweats at long lost, massaging at his shaft eagerly.

The puppy-boy whined and raised his ass further, spreading his legs.

“Breed! Please breed!” He whined, shaking his ass like he was about to pounce.

Whitney groaned, his stomach tightening, slipping his cock free fully and jerking it with desperation. His thumb dragging against his slit, teasing out precum as he desperately played with himself. Fuck, he didn’t really get it before, but this was fucking doing it for him. Stupid sluts he enjoyed, but fuck. Trained stupid sluts, rolling over at the snap of his fingers? No wonder Landry was having success with this shit, way more appealing than anything he’s watched before-

The feeling of something wet brushing the back of his hand made him cuss and nearly throw his phone. Blinking against the dark after staring at his phone screen for so long, it took him a moment to realise what the fuck that feeling even was.

Your big stupid eyes were staring up at him, nudging your nose against the back of his hand with a look of blind adoration.

“What ya watching?” Your tail was wagging, probably having heard the sound of an excited puppy-boy from across the room.

Whitney glanced from your big, excited eyes, your tail wagging wildly, back to the his video, titled “Puppy-boy bred full at the beach”, with the camera in the perfect POV shot, showing a fat cock drilling the poor dog-person’s asshole, before looking back at you. You didn’t seem perturbed by his staring, stupid bitch you were, in fact, your smile at him just broadened, happy at the attention. Your happy little face so close to his fat cock, throbbing still in his hand.

He slowly sat up, chucking his phone to the side, slipping into a cross legged position, cock pressing against his stomach. Whitney took hold of the base of his cock, a smirk slowly growing on his face as you remained close, tail wagging. Squeezing the base of his cock, he watched as your eyes went from looking at his face, to his erection with an innocent curiosity. He grinned and lightly tapped the head against your lips, smearing precum, and your tongue flicked out to taste it, before scrunching your cute little face up.

“Salty.” You stuck out your tongue, as if airing it out would help.

Whitney took the moment to drag his cock over it again, your rough tongue brushing over the slit in a way that almost had him grab you by your floppy ears and fuck your mouth… Well…

“Open.” Whitney demanded, and you whined, tail stilling for a moment before you opened your maw.

Perfect. A sloppy, pink hole for him to fuck until you learn to love the taste of cock. Maybe that will up your value.

In the dark of the room, with the only light being from his phone, the loudest noise was the wet slap of his cock rubbing against your drooling tongue, hitting the back of your throat, saliva swishing loudly as Whitney groaned. It wasn’t like the sluts at school. You couldn’t stop salivating, spit running down your chin as your tail continued to wag wildly. He could fucking condition you. Just the whiff of cock and you’d be a drooly, wet mess.

“Fuck. Fuck. Who's my good puppy?” He groaned, letting his mouth run without meaning to.

You whined with excitement, ears perking up at the first bit of positive reinforcement you had ever gotten from Whitney.

“Yeah, you are. My cute, stupid, cockwhore puppy.” His tone was soft and your brain registered as good, as your brain clouded and you couldn’t stop drooling. “Gonna fuck you, huh? Gonna breed your stupid puppy hole, huh?”

Your tail stopped all together, your eyes growing large and dark. Ah. Liked that word huh? Whitney yanked his cock out of your throat, drool spilling all over his floor, dripping from his erection and your tongue.

“Alright. Roll over, or something. C’mon.”

You whined and spread your legs from your seated position, sitting back on your haunches, showing off how excited you were, making a mess all over his floor. Squirming a bit, you fell onto your back, tail peeking out and wagging as you stared up at your master with unblemished love. Whitney smirked and kneeled down in front of you, leaning over for a moment to spit into your mouth before papping his slicked up cock against your hole, puffy and ready to be bred.

The sound of the front door opening had him stilling for just a moment, and his cock softened a bit. If his parents found him with his stupid dog-person like this? What-

Your hole snagged against the tip of his cock, jerking his attention back to you as you whined and desperately humped at him. Alright. Fuck. Yeah. His pooch needed seeing to. As his parents moved around downstairs, his mother bemoaning the fact he left his dishes in the sink, he put a sweating palm over your mouth, letting you lick the salt from his palm as he rubbed the tip of his cock against your hole. Whitney groaned as he slowly sunk into you, your excited huffing slipping into a pleasured whine.

“Good puppy.” Whitney hissed out between his teeth, his hips moving involuntarily as he fucked into your tight, sloppy heat. The squelching sound of his curved cock hitting deep into your hole was the hottest fucking thing he’d ever fucking heard. He’s heard sluts whining for cock, he’s fucked his fair share of whores, but jesus christ, this puppy-bitch was the best of both worlds. Loyal, dumb, like a dog, with the hole of the nastiest whore in town. Thoughts of selling you onto Landry, only seeing you fucked open on videos, slipped away, more focused on simultaneously trying to fuck deeper and deeper into you, but also keeping quiet as his parents ascended the staircase.

“I should check on Whitney.” His mother whispered to his father, who just grunted.

His panic flipped, both from his balls tightening as your heat clamped down around him, but also shock. Whitney was not going to get caught fucking his stupid fucking dog-person. With a low hiss, he hooked his arms around your thighs and picked you up, you nuzzling into his neck with a happy huff, stupid bitch. He almost had to wrestle you into bed, with you excitedly still trying to back up against his cock trapped in your hole. His mother’s voice came closer and he just barely yanked his covers up over him and you, with you still snuffling at his cheek.

The door opened and a line of light cut across his room and there was a beat of silence, with you still lovingly nuzzling into him.

“Awh. He finally let the pooch sleep on his bed.” His mother cooed. There was another beat, of her watching him, and you slowly humping at his cock, balls about to fucking burst inside his puppy-person with his mother fucking watching.

After a beat, the door closed again, and Whitney let out a guttural moan into your shoulder, a few more humps from you more than enough to send him over the edge, cum flooding your hole as his mother’s footsteps retreated to the master bedroom.

“Fucking… Hell…” Whitney raggedly breathed out as you shivered against him, beginning to lick affectionately at his chin. You were more of a person than a dog, he guessed.

A few days later, he was back at the park, with you dozing against his knee as he sat at the fountain. Whitney had struggled with selling you to Landry, with his friends around him remarking their surprise the mutt was still around and still as adoring of him as ever. With only the one who recommended him the site giving him a knowing leer and petting your ears.

#dol #nsft #quincewrites #degrees of lewdity #whitney the bully

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sleepytwilight · 23 days

Note

Can you write about the sorcerers reaction to a summoner whos sassy and demanding but actually is really soft and gives the best soft kisses

(Don't worry i ain't gonna ask preg sorcerers...unless.....🥰 kidding)

Ik that's you Mari xD

𝔸𝕣𝕔𝕥𝕦𝕣𝕦𝕤

Oh dear you did give him a surprise when you first got into relationship with him.

To be fair he's quite anxious and insecure that he can't be the man you want in relationship.

Surprisingly, when you both are alone. You gave him soft kisses and cuddles with him.

He never thought he'll fell in love with you even though he's already in love with you.

Yes it's possible.

He feels like he's the luckiest man in the world right now.

He secretly brag how good kisser you are to other sorcerers.

Why? He just want to let them know you're the only person he want.

𝕊𝕡𝕚𝕔𝕒

He's always working and you demand for his attention. For once he put down his pen and wait for you to do something.. In aggressive way.

Well he did not expects soft kisses from you, he got flustered and accidentally spilled the ink.

For the first time in his life he didn't care about work and want more of your kiss.

Can you give him goodnight and good morning kisses?

You both have private study time since then.. Of course not in that kind of way-

ℙ𝕠𝕝𝕝𝕦𝕩

To be fair, he's a tsundere and he also demanding for you attention.

You both are so soft like real sweets.

Bickering is normal, the students already know you and Pollux are madly in love with each other.

Pollux kisses you softly just like the way you kiss him.

You both love each other so much, keep showering each other attentions.

So cute ♪ ♬ ヾ(´︶`♡)ﾉ ♬ ♪

𝔸𝕝𝕡𝕙𝕖𝕣𝕒𝕥𝕫

Why are you demanding so much from him? You know how lazy he is?

How did you both get into relationship again? Tell Me-

Okay, Alpheratz had enough and decided for you to do whatever you want. He's too tired to deal with the consequences.

Later he was the one who demand for your attention.

Why your lips are so soft? Why is he awake just for you to kiss him one more time?

He couldn't get enough, he wants more-

He regrets for being lazy when you and him first in relationship.

You sooner become his pillow because he want you to be his alarm.

What kind of alarm? The alarm that give him soft kisses at morning and gently wakes him up

Yeah, you both are so cute hehe

𝕊𝕚𝕣𝕚𝕦𝕤

He's not a fan of public affection. You should stop being demanding when he's at meeting or working- Pls he feels embarrassed-

He can't take it seriously when you demand him to be on bed knowing you were Polaris...

Okay once he's on the bed, hell- He feels like he's in heaven. Soft kisses from you? You're so unpredictable, did you know that?

Is this what Sirrah always got when he were in relationship with Polaris?

Sirius did actually enjoy this much more than he should.

He may be a little complicated whether you're still Polaris or not.

A while later, he realized he wants you. He just wants you, that's all. Maybe he could bring you happiness like the way you bring to him.

𝕍𝕖𝕘𝕒

Vega got red as tomato whenever you demand something from him. Do you have to be sassy and embarrassed him in front of his clan??

Dw, his clan like you. They think you guys are adorable couple.

It took him months to finally let you kiss him.

Hell his heart exploded when you give him soft kiss and gently hold him.

Summoner, congratulations. He's touch starve like Sirius and he's aware of it unlike Sirius-

Vega sometimes brought you to private room or area so you could have time together.

Can you compliment him? He'll be more gentle yknow

ℝ𝕚𝕘𝕖𝕝 for @tophatmaker

(I hope you're okay- since you said you received an anon ask??)

How did you two got into relationship? They can excuse Alpheratz but Rigel? What did you see in him?

Rigel is so cold in public yet you're here demand for your needs.

Everyone thought he got annoyed because he left after you got too demanding.

Little did they know, he's waiting for you in his room.

He's a bit awkward at first but he enjoy the soft touch and your soft kisses.

He let you take the charge, he don't want to hurt you after all.

Cute yet so demanding like you is his type.

#okay let's gooo #arcana twilight #arcana twilight sirius #arcana twilight mc #arcana twilight arcturus #arcana twilight alpheratz #arcana twilight pollux #arcana twilight vega #arcana twilight spica #arcana twilight summoner #arcana twilight relationship headcanons #arcana twilight rigel

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rollercoasterwords · 2 years

Text

hey guys btw there is actually never a good reason to loudly and publicly talk about how much u dislike a fanfic!! Like. let's break this down for a sec:

i don't like it

ok, understandable. i've dnf'd lots of fics because i didn't like them. but the people writing fanfiction are doing it for free and for fun, and you don't know anything about their lives. they could be a young writer just starting out! they could be an older writer getting back into writing after years of being unable to! they could be someone going through a rough patch whose only source of joy right now is writing their silly little stories! talking about how much you dislike a fanfic literally does nothing except hurt the person writing it. that's it. it is not productive, it is not necessary. even strangers on the internet deserve basic human empathy.

ok but i really don't like it

babe, i feel u! i'm a hater too. rant about it privately. shit on it in private messages or group chats with friends. u can dislike something without dragging its creator into the town square to throw tomatoes at them, yknow?

ok but i really don't like it AND it's popular

ok? shouting about that on the internet doesn't make you cool or special or unique. it just makes you kind of mean and, honestly, bitter. like i said before, this is fanfiction. nobody is paying for it. nobody is profiting. there is no standard that these writers are obligated to meet. clearly, other people like the work. why not let them enjoy it in peace?

no u don't understand it doesn't deserve to be popular there are better fics that deserve it more!!!

talk about those fics then!! post about how much u love them!! uplift those writers!! ur tweet or tiktok or tumblr post is not going to suddenly make a popular fic lose all popularity, no matter how undeserving u perceive it to be. if this is actually coming from a place of frustration because you feel like there are other fics that deserve more attention, then just give those fics attention.

no but it's problematic

mmm ok. let's sit with this one for a second. i want you to ask yourself--is it really, really problematic? is it perpetuating harm against a marginalized group? remember, this is fanfic; it is outside the consumer economy, and the stories it tells will almost never make it to a mainstream audience. so is the story actually hurting people, or is the author just exploring something that you're uncomfortable with? because if you're just uncomfortable, then assuming the work is tagged properly, the best course of action is to just click away. as uncomfortable as it may be, people are allowed to write stories that you might find upsetting or gross or weird, and those stories existing is not inherently harmful in and of itself.

it is actively reinforcing harmful stereotypes/rhetoric/etc

okay! ok. if you are deeply concerned because you feel that this fic is genuinely harmful, then go to the writer. leave a comment. send them a message on tumblr or twitter or tiktok or wherever. explain your situation and see what they say! nine times out of ten, i'd bet that an ao3 writer means no harm and would be willing to listen and address your concerns. in fact, they might even be grateful to you for being kind enough to make them aware of a problem and educate them on it. every ao3 writer i've ever spoken to is an incredibly kind and thoughtful person; you don't need to immediately go on the attack

the writer is unreachable/nonresponsive/not willing to address or change the problematic thing

alright. if you truly feel that this fanfiction is actively harmful and can't reach any kind of conclusion with the writer, and you want to warn others who might read the fic, then do that. do that. make a post that says hey guys btw, x thing in this fic is not a good representation/perpetuates a harmful stereotype/whatever the problem is. and leave it at that! you don't need to go further and insult the writing or the person who wrote it. that is helpful to exactly no one, and if your goal is actually to make the world a better place, then you should learn how to draw attention to an issue in a way that encourages actual dialogue instead of dog-piling and personal attacks.

anyway the next time you feel the desire to post about how bad you think a fic is, feel free to use this as a guide before u do! xoxo

#like i genuinely don't understand u guys sometimes #why do i keep seeing posts w hundreds or sometimes even thousands of likes #that are literally saying nothing except #i think this fic is bad and i don't like it #if someone was making cookies and handing them out for free and u didn't like them #would u go stand next to that person and shout about how shitty their baking skills are??#or would u just move tf on!!#bc they are doing something nice for free!!#and if u don't want to eat it u don't have to!!#like if u post abt disliking fics u are literally just mean #im sorry but u are just mean #and not even in a fun way #i love talking shit i love hating on things!!#i do it in PRIVATE #in PRIVATE!!!#where it's fun for me but i know it won't hurt anyone's feelings unnecessarily!!#some of u guys treat fanfiction like a product to consume and it's NOT #it's a gift!#it's a piece of art that someone is giving u!#so for the love of god stop thinking like a fucking little capitalist consumer for a moment and think like a human being w empathy!!#ranting and raving #txt

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isa-ghost · 23 days

Note

Hey, do you have any Phil & Charlie hcs or perhaps Phil & Foolish?

I'm having such a struggle picking which fucking one to do bc on one hand Foolish probably has more material to work with but on the other I've seen Phil and Charlie interact so much (but like outside of qsmp) that I'd have a way better idea of their dynamic. Charlie Slimecicle log on qsmp more often you talented fuck.

Anyway we're gonna attempt some Phil/Foolish ones. I think they're called Immortals or some shit?? Idr.

qPhil headcanons masterlist

Phil had no fucking clue what Foolish's deal was prior to being paired with him on Bolas. He knew he was a goofy happy-go-lucky and talented guy that?? Maybe had allegiances with the Feds?? Hard to tell?? He thought it was a bit tbh. But Purgatory opened Phil's eyes up and he learned that yeah, he's kinda right to a degree. But there are still layers to Foolish despite how Just Vibing he is.

And holy shit can he TELL Foolish has the capacity to be terrifying. You're telling me an immortal shark-totem hybrid doesn't have the ability to kill a motherfucker violently??? NAH. Phil can tell if enough of the right buttons are pushed, Foolish would snap and tear a bitch to shreds. Likely for Leo.

Phil's not entirely sure he can trust Foolish bc he's so unclear about where his loyalties lie, but Phil CAN tell that Foolish keeps it that way for a reason, and Phil thinks it's smart. Despite not entirely trusting him, he believes Foolish wouldn't like. Sell out his friends for a corn chip, yknow?

Now when you take all the serious out of these two though, THEN it gets interesting. Foolish is one of the islanders that has the easiest time getting Phil to let loose. It's just contagious, Foolish is too silly.

At the same time Phil looks at him and is just like ???? How the fuck does he smile through the horrors like that ???? Like clearly he's aware Situations suck and he's anxious like anyone else so how does he have the willpower to be silly and chill???? Phil envies it. He's too full of anxiety. Survivalist's curse.

Foolish's laugh is pure serotonin to Phil. And kryptonite, Foolish's laugh makes Phil laugh. He can't help it. Motherfucker sounds like a window washer squeegee thing when he's dying.

They have 2 very different flavors of immortality to me and while I don't know how a conversation about it would go bc Foolish is so casual and Phil is so? Not secretive but like. Not nonchalant about it? There's still something there that the ccs should cook on. I'm begging them to, in fact.

Also something about how one of them has deep ties to the air and the other technically has deep ties to the sea. Something about that. Especially when used in like, a serious situation. Like spying on the Federation or some shit. Do you see my vision. Using their inborn abilities to their advantage while in collaboration with each other for the sake of them and their friends. Do you see it.

Phil: Gifting shed feathers to trusted loved ones 🤝🏻 Foolish: Gifting lost shark teeth to trusted loved ones

I don't headcanon Phil as a short king like the entire rest of the fandom apparently does but obviously Foolish is fucking enormous compared to 99% of people, Phil included. If Phil could fly he'd spitefully hover just a little higher than Foolish's full height just to mess with him.

FUCKING. TALENTED BIG BUILDS DUO. SHAKING THEM BY THE SHOULDERS WHEN WILL THEY COLLAB. (The kids beg for this often)

Foolish has no idea if he's some kinda deity or if he's just immortal with some kinda weird totem roots and it drives Phil insane bc the hardcore deities have such a different energy than him yet you're telling him (maybe) both are divinity??

Speaking of the hardcore deities, Phil desperately wants to introduce Foolish to the Ocean Overlord bc they're (maybe) both himbo gods with some sort of tie to the ocean that are just vibing their asses off. (Oh my god wait I'm cooking on that idea. Doozers let's cook together on this).

Phil is jealous that Foolish can still swim, the thing he's deeply connected to (esp with those cosmetic fins he has) but he can't fly, the thing he's deeply connected to. But really it's just that Foolish is lucky bc the Federation would have to horrifically butcher him more or less in order to take away his ability to swim properly. Phil's easier to forcibly contain.

Believe it or not, if a situation arose where it was necessary, Phil would pick Foolish for his team (again) in a heartbeat. He may not be as passionate about fighting as Etoiles, or as ruthless as Fit, but hes powerful nonetheless, a trusted friend, has been in that situation with Phil before, and is a beacon of positivity; excellent for morale. Silly disposition and weird alliances aside, Foolish is an invaluable addition to a team from an objective perspective.

#qsmp #qsmp philza #philza #q!philza #qsmp foolish #foolish gamers #q!foolish #qphil headcanons

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butterscotch-brigade · 3 months

Text

🐴 eat-the-alicorns Follow

sick of ponies saying shit like "luna > celestia" or "celestia is a tyrant, luna is best princess" like you know equestria is still a monarchy right. it doesn't matter who you "stan" they're still both members of the royal family. i should not have to explain to you why "stanning" a literal monarch is wrong

🌚 moonrises Follow

Somepony's a Celestia stan

🐴 eat-the-alicorns

read my post again

🌫 books-and-friendship-deactivated10102010

Excuse me, but can you please explain to me why the monarchy is so bad? I'm from the Dragon Lands, and we choose our leaders by sending them on a dangerous quest to retrieve a scepter from an active volcano. Thousands of dragons die every millenium to this gauntlet alone. How is that any better than living under the alicorns' comparatively peaceful and diplomatic rule?

🐴 eat-the-alicorns

girl you're literally a twilight sparkle stan blog i'm not arguing with you. go read books egghead

🥀 unlucky-rosepetals Follow

op thats not just a twilight themed blog that is the actual princess twilight herself

🐴 eat-the-alicorns

WHAT????????

🐴 eat-the-alicorns

IM BUCKING CRYINGGGG SHE DELETED THE POST AKSJDJDDJSJSJ

⛅️ chasingcloudstildawn Follow

SHE MUST HAVE FORGOTTEN TO SWITCH TO HER SIDEBLOG LMAOOOOO

🥕 beyond-my-garden Follow

NO BUCKING WAY SHE DEACTIVATED. RIP BOZO

🌅 sunny-daze-haze Follow

Welcome to Tumblr, the only website where you can cyberbully the princess of friendship into deactivating. Well done guys

🐴 eat-the-alicorns

"cyberbullying" she's taken on Actual Demons From Tartarus i think she'll be fine

📰 gxbby-gxms Follow

one of those "demons" was a literal child btw. yknow the one currently encased in stone in the canterlot sculpture garden

🎭 chaotic-strings Follow

Being a minor doesn't make you exempt from the consequences of your actions????

🐴 eat-the-alicorns

SHE'S A /CHILD/??? LIKE AN ACTUAL CHILD. and she's FULLY aware of everything going on around her??? tell me why you think eternal petrification is a fitting punishment for a child

⏳️ timeywimey Follow

@/chaotic-strings is Discord btw. In case you're wondering why he's advocating for turning a child to stone. I love sucking hooves

⏳️ timeywimey

???? I DID NOT TYPE "I LOVE SUCKING HOOVES" WTF???? DID SOMEPONY EDIT MY POST OR SMTH I THOUGHT YOU COULDN'T DO THAT ANYMORE????

🎭 chaotic-strings

lol

🍎 i-say-eeyup Follow

eeyup

#vanilla talks #mlp #i came up w the idea for this post while i was doing dishes LMAOOOOOO #uhh #unreality #i guess?? just to be safe

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adxele · 7 months

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Hi! May I request chigiri when he has s/o who's face is not pretty as he is, the s/o is often called cute more than pretty actually, but s/o thinks their appearance it's just "so-so" 🥹 it could be in headcanons or story, it's up to you, which one makes you feel comfortable! Thank you very much and I'm sorry if my request is not easy to understand shshjss T ___ T I love your writings, by the way!

a/n: awh tysm ! <3 and no worries,i understood! i relate to chigiri's s/o :3

"im always here,you know that."

ft. chigiri hyoma x reader

"what the hell."

chigiri muttered as he softly cupped your face and brows furrowed slightly as he observes your face.

"hm? what?" you ask as you gently put your hands on his wrists.

"how your face is so pretty and so gorgeous?" he softly kissed your cheek and put his cheek next to yours.

"uh.. i wouldn't say it like that though.." you muttered under your breath and didn't excepted chigiri to hear it.

but somehow,he did heard. chigiri froze and pulled away from you.

"what do you mean by 'like that' y/n ?"

you shrug your shoulders and look away.

"people always say that my face is more like,cute. they didn't really complimented or described my face in other ways,always cute or adorable. and to be honest,i can't really see my face being gorgeous or attractive,just.. yknow,its okay to me." you admit with sad smile on your face.

chigiri listened and minute later,he sighed and shook his head in disapproval.

"and what?"

your eyes widens. "huh?"

"even though it is true that your face is cute,it's not only cute but also extremely gorgeous with unique facial features. and what if people say the same over and over about your face? it doesn't mean that you should also think like them.its YOUR face and YOUR body. remember, im here if you want to talk about it or even if you just want to take your mind off things.i will be only more than glad to help you,if you need some advice about skincare,alright?" he softly muttered and reassuringly rubbed your arm.

you felt your shoulders relax and you nod your head. "alright,thank you chigiri.it means a lot."

you wrap your arms around his waist and nuzzle your head to the crook of his neck. Chigiri felt heat in his cheeks as he hugs you back and lays his head on top of yours with a content smile on his lips.

"of course,im always here yknow that." he reassures

"haha yeah,i am aware of it. let's do our skincare routine tonight, together as always."

"sure,but please,don't fall asleep during it like last time." he teases

'way to ruin a moment' you thought to yourself

"did u really had to mention it while we are having a wholesome moment here?"

"obviously." he smirks.

you sighed. "whatever."

THIS IS SO SHORT IM SORRY😭😭😭😭😭

#blue lock #blue lock x reader #blue lock x yn #blue lock x you #bllk chigiri #chigiri x reader #chigiri x you #chigiri hyoma #blue lock chigiri

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yanderes-galore · 1 year

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wait wait i got another,

so yknow how both foxy and withered bonnie are just sitting in the hall as if their both teaming to get you?

how bout a yan team up with both withered bonnie and withered foxy

Oh, sure! I'll do a bit of poly/rivalry in this. Animatronic or android, doesn't really matter. I got motivation for this through FNAF songs in my Spotify. Concept as not specified.

No dead kids! Just sentient robots like in SB.

Yandere! Withered Foxy + Withered Bonnie

(Nightguard! Darling)

Pairing: Romantic/Platonic - Rivalry/Sharing

Possible Trigger Warnings: Gender-Neutral Darling, Violence, Obsession, Isolation, Clingy behavior, Possessive behavior, Rivalry turns into sharing with tension, Protective behavior, Jealousy, They tolerate each other for you, Kidnapping implied, Attempted murder/Murder.

The two bots have their differences from their original production.

Withered Bonnie is intimidating and aware that he's broken.

Bonnie's aggressive at times but for the most part he's saddened by his appearance.

The bunny used to be so prideful of his skills, now he hates being kept in a cramped room and feels neglected.

Withered Foxy is much more aggressive compared to his usual self.

This is because he feels much more isolated than before, making him irritable.

He's one of the more feral Foxy's.

There's a good chance he'll be too eager and hurt his darling the first few times he meets you.

But he is grateful to see a new face after only seeing the withereds for so long....

Both bots share something in common, they want attention.

All of the withereds want attention due to being locked up for so long....

Yet Bonnie and Foxy are the ones that get attached to their new nightguard friend the most.

The way you deal with the two bots is very different.

Bonnie tries to go through the vents and hallway to see you, craving your attention and validation.

Foxy won't fall for the stupid mask trick, he just tries to jump into your office.

Until he's flashbanged by your flashlight.

They aren't aware they the same fixation until they meet each other in the hallway.

Safe to say one asks questions... then they realize they have the same desperation towards you.

At first this causes violence between the two bots.

Foxy's possessive with his rotting mind, he's never been noticed since his cove was closed down and was transferred here.

Why should he give you up to Bonnie? That bunny had his time to shine.

Bonnie's obsession over you turns possessive due to his obsessive need for validation.

He thinks you don't mind his appearance!

He also doesn't harm you unlike the fox.

Your shift only gets worse when you hear metal against metal echo in the pizzeria.

It's them fighting, busting each other up more than they were previously.

The fighting and rivalry is intense.

They now try to claw their way towards you with new purpose.

Bonnie stays in your room longer, no longer falling for the mask trick.

He knows you're there... he's always known.

Why don't you just talk with him?

He'd never hurt you.

Foxy has made a deal with Balloon Boy to get into your office.

The kid bot steals any batteries he can find and hides them away.

This allows Foxy to leap into your office and "play" with his best mate.

If either of them get into your office they usually don't hurt you.

They try to befriend you... making conversation.

They don't leave for hours so their rival doesn't enter.

The only good thing that comes from them is the fact other bots stay away.

You're guarded by either one of them.

Their "sharing" is a truce to tolerate each other.

They hate the idea but it is for the same goal.

They both care for you, they both want your attention and care, and soon...

You'll get a new job and leave them alone.

The thought of you soon finishing your week here pulls them together for a common goal.

They don't want to lose you.

That's when we get the moment of the two teaming up.

That's when you see them in the hall.

The sight unnerves you.

You're half used to them... but the idea of sentient robots is still a new concept to you.

You've never seen them in the hall with each other....

According to their chatter with you, you thought they disliked each other despite being friends at one point.

Foxy always spoke Bonnie's name with a hateful growl...

Meanwhile Bonnie was sent into a glitchy fit when the fox was mentioned.

Why are they so close now?

What were they even fighting for before?

You don't have much time to react as both bots can't be dealt with at the same time.

Even if they were friendly before... can you trust it?

You go for your flashlight... only to be met with laughter before BB scurries off.

You curse to yourself... fearfully staring back at the eyes in the darkness.

This was it....

Even if you defended against Bonnie, Foxy would attack.

You were at a loss.

Foxy enters first, supernatural speed catching you off guard.

You fall out of your chair with your heart pounding, making the fox laugh.

He hadn't even touched you!

Then Bonnie enters, faceless appearance staring at your shaking form on the floor.

Thoughts of them tearing into your flesh flash into your mind.

You scramble up right just as Foxy takes his place in front of you and Bonnie rounds the desk behind you.

Cornered... surrounded... at their mercy.

"Heard you were leaving this week!" Foxy scoffs.

"Why would you want to leave us... aren't we your friends?" Bonnie whines through his voice box.

You can't seem to find the words to reply... you're stunned.

"I don't think we can let you leave, matey."

"You belong here... with us. We care for you... don't you care for us?"

You have trouble believing that.

You still have marks from the two being too rough when they met you.

You don't have much of a choice in the matter.

By the end of the week the two abduct you.

Hiding you is an issue.

They could find an empty suit... maybe muffle your screams...

They'll find a way.

You have bathrooms, you have food to eat, they can take care of you.

If any of the other bots turn hostile towards you, the two bots defend you.

If employees find you and try to take you away...

Either Foxy or Bonnie will deal with them.

The two bots fight over your attention at times but you can calm them down.

Their aggression is taken out on their Toy counterparts at times instead of you.

They don't want to hurt you like they did before.

Escaping them will be challenging as they're never truly offline for long.

Your only way out of here may end up being in a body bag one way or another.

#yandere five nights at freddy's #yandere fnaf #yandere fnaf 2 #yandere withered bonnie #yandere withered foxy

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