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blindmagdalena · 11 months ago

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Guilty Pleasures

18+ 3.3k homelander x plus size f!reader. workplace harassment, stalking, voyeurism, masturbation, lite humiliation kink, sublander flavored. nebulously takes place post s1. part 1/4. AO3 link. | Chapter Directory

Homelander is on top of the world. He can say or do whatever the fuck he wants, and the sycophants around him will bend over backwards to make his word law, with few notable exceptions.

He never expected you to be one of them. When you put him in his place after a workplace incident, he becomes fixated on the promise of a firm hand alongside a soft body.

It’s Thursday, which means Homelander is currently bored to tears less than ten minutes into Vought’s weekly digital marketing meeting. These monotonous discussions of percentages and trending graphics gradually begin to feel like a drill pushing slowly into each of his ears, but they’re a necessary evil if he wants to have input when it comes to his image.

He taps his fingers impatiently on the armrest of his chair. The tapping pauses, however, at the appearance of a new presenter.

You.

You’re a far cry from the dime a dozen jackass in a suit that had been presenting before you. He’s sure he hasn’t seen you before, which means you’re new. His gaze drifts from your round face to the sensible cut of your blouse, the garment buttoned nearly to your throat. Anything less would be considered lewd given the size of your breasts. He wets his lips absently, adjusting himself to sit a little straighter.

He’s completely lost track of what you’re talking about in favor of watching the way your hips sway each time you walk from one end of the board to the other, tactfully engaging each observer. You have a resonant voice, commanding attention without sounding harsh. With a rack like that, you must have to fight to have a word you say heard by anyone with even a passing interest in a good pair of tits.

Not that the cheap fabric of your bra is doing them any favors. Silk would be better. He’s always liked the shine of it. Softer, too. It wouldn’t scrape against your shirt the way he can hear that cotton blend you’re wearing is doing.

Curious, he focuses his vision to peer through your blouse. Your undergarments are plain and sensible. Boring. Still, it elicits a distinct pang between his legs. His mouth waters slightly. Even from where he is, he can smell you, fresh and clean, slightly sweet smelling–like vanilla. Your clothes may be pedestrian but at least your perfume is nice.

Letting his gaze slide lower, he admires how the curves of your body flow into one another. He can tell just by looking at you how soft you would feel against him, under him. How good you would feel to grip and hold in place, sink into and lose himself in. Your voice has a soothing quality to it that lets him easily imagine you’re breathlessly singing his praises instead of rattling off bullet points in a presentation.

Fuck, he’s getting hard, his cock throbbing lightly against the cup of his suit. It’s the only thing that allows him to fantasize as freely as he does. The best part of it is that he’s fairly certain he can sense something warm and wet throbbing between your thick thighs.

He suspects he’s not the only one fantasizing.

The room is quiet for a second too long, and Homelander abruptly tunes back in to realize you’re staring directly at him, expectancy in your gaze. He pulls a blank, realizing he hasn’t processed anything you’ve said. “Say again?”

There’s a flicker of irritation in your eyes before you tightly school your expression back into polite professionalism. His lips slowly split into a devious smile that he consciously fine-tunes to be more neutral. How close you came to some sort of heated response was kind of… cute. It makes him want to give your proverbial pigtails another tug just to see what else he can evoke.

The thought of pulling your hair is good. The thought of you pulling his hair is better, though.

“I asked if you have any feedback for our campaign leading up to the premiere,” you say, though Homelander finds himself more interested in the flash of your tongue he gets as you run it along your teeth afterwards. Your temperature is up a notch, too. You must not be used to such direct attention from someone like him.

“Nope,” he says glibly, turning on one of his patented knock-out smiles. “Looks good to me.” At that, he pointedly looks you up and down, meeting your gaze with a quick wink.

Judging by the slight tic at the corner of your mouth, you aren’t charmed by his response. Still, he waits in preemptive satisfaction for you to appease him by returning his smile.

You don’t.

Instead, you say nothing more than a terse “Wonderful,” the singular word barely passing for civil, let alone professional. You move on, and Homelander finds himself taken aback. You don’t meet his eye for the remainder of the presentation, and while that gives him plenty of opportunity to ogle you, it bothers him.

Towards the end of your time, he clears his throat. Everyone looks at him.

Everyone but you.

“Thanks so much for your time,” you say to the committee, smiling, finishing your piece with a small incline of your head. You go sit, and there’s a slightly awkward pause before the next presenter takes center stage.

Homelander sits in stunned silence. The idea that you, some fresh faced nobody, think you’re in any position to blow him off is laughable at best. Who cares if he didn’t pay attention to your little presentation? That’s not his job. You’re lucky he’s even here, lucky that someone like him would think to give you time out of his day.

By the time the meeting concludes, you haven’t spared him so much as a glance. Indignation builds hotly in his chest. He’s had more than enough of being snubbed lately. He’s not going to tolerate it from the likes of you.

You should be on your hands and knees begging for his attention.

He watches a handful of your peers congratulate you on your first presentation, though plenty of others cast him wary glances and decide not to approach you. They know better. They know who’s really in charge around here. Naturally, they all skitter away like roaches when he strides towards you.

“Not bad for your first presentation,” he tells you, his smile toned down into a thin, lopsided smirk.

You look around yourself, no doubt taking note of how the other little insects around you have scattered. Maybe now you’ll realize your mistake.

“Thank you, sir,” you say, your body angled slightly away from him, as if you’re ready to bolt at any second.

“Got a lot on my mind, though, so I don’t think I absorbed as much as I could have,” he says, laying on that boyish charm a little thicker than usual. “Would really appreciate it if you could stick around and run that by me one more time.”

Your gaze flickers away from him–he wishes you would stop doing that–to the others who’re filtering out of the room, slowly leaving the two of you behind. “As I said during the presentation, all the documents will be available online,” you say, finally looking back at him. You actually have the audacity to look annoyed that he’s talking to you.

“I don’t have a computer,” he replies, his own voice beginning to flatten.

“I’m sure someone in IT can help you with that,” you say, undeterred by his attempts to corner you.

His smile tightens minutely. “Do you have some kind of problem with me?”

Your heart jumps. He finds satisfaction in that, at least.

“No, sir,” you say sharply, a barely discernible hitch in your voice. “What I have are deadlines. If you’ll excuse me, I’d like to meet them.” With that, you manage to squeeze by him. Despite the steady confident tap of your shoes against the floor, your heart races rabbit-like in his ears.

He contemplates you as you go, momentarily stupefied by your flagrant disregard for him. You weren’t entirely unaffected by his presence, though. If you’d had less of an avenue for escape, would you have been so flippant? He continues to focus on the beat of your heart as your steps carry you further from him. It doesn’t slow. You’re still full of adrenaline, the scent of it lingering alongside your perfume. He inhales a slow, deep breath, the leather of his gloves creaking as he curls and uncurls his fist.

Homelander finds himself wondering what your agenda is, what makes you so desperate to break from the norm and catch his attention. It’s clear to him that’s what you want. Why else would you be so stubborn where anyone else would yield? He scoffs to himself.

God, it’s so obvious in hindsight.

He has no doubt that your brazen attitude would shatter if he pressed in closer, if you felt the heat of his breath on your lips. He could part your soft thighs and paint the face of God on the ceiling above you with his tongue inside you. You couldn’t dismiss him so easily then, could you?

You’re so determined to be noticed that it’s almost pathetic. He shouldn’t reward this kind of behavior, and yet he feels strangely inclined to commend it. What you’ve done is brave in a way. Insolence and sycophants he can’t abide, but a touch of bravery? Well… That can be rewarded.

Your heart thunders in your ears as you make a beeline for your office. You can feel a terrible burn crawling up your chest and into your cheeks, the reality of what just happened finally allowed to sink in. You had spent all morning preparing yourself for presenting your work in front of not only your new peers at Vought, but in front of the world’s most prolific superhero. You were solid, you were ready.

Until you felt the gravity of his gaze on you. The weight of it made you stutter where you shouldn’t have, lose your train of thought mid-sentence. Every time you dared to look at him, he was looking at you like he was going to swallow you whole. Never have you felt more acutely aware of yourself than you did beneath his stare, feeling the way he was picking you apart as keenly as you would feel his hands undressing you.

It left you as furious as you are flustered.

That arrogant bastard!

You close the door behind you with a rough breath, closing your eyes. You can’t even sit, you have to pace your office instead, shaking your hands out as you walk. You know you weren’t imagining it. He confirmed as much for you when it took a solid eight seconds of silence for him to tear his gaze up from your chest, smiling as wickedly as any devil and caught elbow-deep in the cookie jar.

You couldn’t look him in the eye after that. It was humiliating to be reduced so thoroughly and obviously in front of your peers. Worst of all, he seemed damn pleased by it.

Though that isn’t the only reason your heart is still racing. You’re not quite ready to address that yet. You’re fairly certain if you’d been forced to speak to him any more than you had, you would have said something that would cause you to lose your job. You just need space to breathe, to collect yourself, to–

There’s a brisk knock at your door. Great. What now?

“Just a m–” You’re stopped dead in your tracks by a familiar flash of red, white and blue as Homelander lets himself into your office, closing the door securely behind him.

“Howdy,” he greets. He looks cartoonishly wide and brightly colored against the neutral colors of your office, even more larger than life than he’d seemed in the conference room. He has a smile that looks like it belongs in the mouth of a shark about to take a bite of you. It sets you off kilter completely–not that you’d been much on it to begin with.

You gawk a moment before managing to close your mouth. “Homelander,” you say, your voice curt in your own ears. You have no idea how to address him, still frazzled from not only the presentation, but your interaction that followed it. You should ask him what he needs.

“What’re you doing here?” That came out ruder than you meant it to. Not that he doesn’t deserve it. Still, you’re trying to keep this job.

“Are you always this pleasant?” He asks, cocking his head slightly as he comes to a stop in front of you, his arms held behind his back beneath his swaying cape. “Or did I catch you on a bad day?”

Is he serious?

“Your conduct today was inappropriate,” you say flatly, settling your hands on your hips.

Homelander scoffs lightly. “Oh, relax. You gonna ‘#Metoo’ me over a wink? Christ, you’re done up tighter than that blouse of yours,” he says, his gaze dipping. A chill rolls up your spine as you watch his tongue roll along his teeth. He’s like an animal anticipating a meal.

Your jaw drops, cold shock settling in your gut alongside that blistering heat. Of all the things you had prepared yourself for before coming to Vought, Homelander being a misogynistic sex-pest hadn’t been on your list.

Well. Not the sex-pest part, anyways.

You point to your office door. “Get out.”

He blinks, zero comprehension in those deceptively charming baby blues. His smile turns incredulous. “I’m starting to think you don’t understand what’s happening here,” he says, his tone taking on a precarious edge. He lets out a breathy, mirthless laugh. “You know, most people in your position would be begging for my attention.”

There it is.

You suck a noise through your teeth, nodding slowly. "Oh, I understand exactly what’s happening here,” you say, shifting your weight like you’re winding up for a pitch. “I know you think you're special because you're famous, or a supe, or both. I know you think I should be grateful that you’d even look at someone like me, but you’re not special, and I’m not grateful. The reality of the matter is I can get dick whenever I want it–good dick–and I can get it without being humiliated at my job.”

The silence in the room is deafening. Homelander looks stupefied, but you decide that you’re not done.

“You're not blessing me by making entitled passes and crude remarks while I'm trying to work. You’re being a nuisance,” you say, your heart beating in your throat. “So please, would you kindly leave?” You ask, voice firm despite the friendlier nature of your phrasing.

Finally, Homelander is the one left gawking. He looks like a fish with the way his mouth keeps opening and closing, but it’s the dismissive, aborted little scoffs he makes in between that really sell his wounded bewilderment. You can see tension lurking just beneath the surface, an anger that skulks in the creak of his leather gloves.

Fear begins to creep up the back of your throat, burning like bile, but you hold steady as he seems to be deciding what he’s going to do with you. The longer the quiet stretches on, your focus entirely on the subtle spasms in his expression, the more sweat begins to prickle at the back of your neck. You refuse to fill the space, you refuse to back down.

For all his power, he’s still just a man.

Eventually, he swallows. “Okie-dokie,” he says, his tone unlike anything you expected. He sounds confused–a little dazed, even. He walks to the door, and after one hesitant look back at you, he leaves.

The door closes with a soft click that still makes you flinch, the sound of it loud in the silence of the room. You blink several times, the abruptness of his departure making the whole encounter feel like some sort of fever dream.

What the fuck just happened?

You’re not special.

The impact of those words struck Homelander’s ears like a loud, painful ringing that follows him as he walks out of your office. He feels off balance, each step leaning slightly to the right.

It’s a ludicrous statement. Objectively wrong. Who in the fucking world could be more special than him? He’s a literal god, and you’re no one. A faceless, nameless cog in Vought’s mechanism that hoists him to the top of it all. That’s your job. To elevate him. Worship him.

Instead you spoke to him as if he were nothing. He could have cut you down where you stood for that. He could have put your head through your office window, snapped your neck, held your skull and burned your eyes out of–

He shakes his head sharply, swaying. He all but stumbles into the bathroom, surprising one of the worker drones washing their hands. “Get out,” Homelander says gruffly.

“Uh, sir–”

“Get the fuck out!” He snaps, startling the man so badly he immediately rushes off, fumbling with the door on his way out. Homelander slams it shut and lets out a ragged breath, digging the heels of his palms into his eyes, then his temples as he paces the bathroom. His reflection taunts him from his peripheral vision.

He hasn’t been able to look himself in the eye since he snapped his Doppelganger’s neck while he knelt before him.

That’s what he wants from you, isn’t it? Mindless desperate praise and worship. Why, then, does the thought od it make his stomach churn so violently he can taste the burn of bile? He tugs compulsively at his suit collar, the press of it against his skin uncharacteristically hot and itchy.

“I can get dick whenever I want it–good dick.”

He shamefully palms himself through his suit, confusingly hard amidst a swirling turbulence of contradicting thoughts and feelings. He could be good for you, too, if you’d fucking let him. He knows he could make you crumble, take apart that carefully constructed demeanor of professionalism and make you see him for what he is. He can prove himself to you. He will prove that you’re wrong about him, and then you’ll show him the love respect he deserves.

Hurriedly, he unzips his pants. His eyelashes flutter as he shoves his hand into them, roughly grabbing hold of his cock. He braces his forearm against the bathroom door and lets his head drop forward, watching his crimson glove pump the leaking head of his dick. His mind bounces between scenarios. He imagines himself in your place, fully on display for you to ogle. He imagines you’re watching him even now, staring him down with that unaffected look of indifference, of irritation, of disgust.

He bites back a whine, gritting his teeth. He wants so badly to imagine his face buried in your soft tits while he fucks the plush space between your thighs, but he knows you won’t let him. Not right away. You’d make him earn it, wouldn’t you? You’d make him watch you please yourself before he ever got so much as a taste.

The glassiness in his eyes begins to sizzle, the moisture burning away as crimson light flares up in them. Would you laugh if you could see him now, or would you scold him for touching himself without your permission?

Homelander comes hard, tipping his head back with a loud moan as he paints the bathroom door with ribbon after ribbon of come. He barely manages not to blow a hole through the ceiling, the light of his eyes flaring and softening in time with each euphoric wave of release. He pants through it, head falling forward and thunking lightly against the door, resting there while he catches his breath.

“Fuck,” he exhales eventually, sighing. He wipes his hand on the wall and then carefully tucks himself back into his pants, his mind swirling hazily on the best high he’s had since…

Clearing his throat, he puts himself back together before leaving the bathroom. Clearly, the thing that he’s been missing is a challenge.

Luckily for him, you’ve kindly volunteered yourself.

( chapter two )

#part two of this fic is mostly finished. i'll probably post it next week!#homelander x reader #homelander #homelander x you #my writing #homelander fanfiction #plus size reader #i've had this in my wips since early december and i just really wanted to get something posted

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aloesarchives · 7 months ago

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JJK Drabble #2

Tw/Warnings: Fem!Reader, Fluff, Fluff Brainrot, Domesticity, Family Man Toji, Usage of Wife and Mom, JJK Oc added

Pairing: Toji Fushiguro x Fem!Reader

Reader: Female, Usage of Wife and Mom

AU: Modern/"Toji Lives" Au

(A/N): I'm back! Well, kinda of. Long story short, dealt w/college stuff and had a health scare that kept me away from writing. Also had a mini burnout too. More is explained here!

Thinking about Toji taking up crocheting and knitting because he saw how expensive yet cheaply made certain items like blankets are made. So he buys a simple set to try it out, following Youtube tutorials and watching videos for ideas. Once he masters the basics, Toji is LOCKED IN once again. Making full on hand-made blankets, scarves, hats, mittens/gloves, stuffed animals, covers/cases, bags, scrunchies, even damn rugs. Anything you ask him for, he’ll make it. This ends up being very practical to Toji because he saves so much money by just making them at home himself. It has to be the premium, natural, good quality type. Organic cotton, wool, cashmere, alpaca/llamas, silk, linen, mohair, bamboo, hemp, all of that. Tell him about polyester or something and he tells you to put that shit back. He buys the premium yarn nearby, locally, or gets them imported internationally. Gets every and any colors because he never wants to be limited when making his projects.

There was a throw blanket you wanted for the couch but it was expensive and the size was a lot smaller than you hoped. The next day, you come home to see Toji making it for you. The same color but better quality and inexpensive, and it was the size you wanted too. You were happy and amazed that he made it within a day. Living off your praise and approval, Toji just makes everything. Since he can’t get carpal tunnel or arthritis, his hands and wrists never get tired from working. Though, his posture does get bad and his back aches from being hunched over. The blanket in your bedroom with Toji? He made that shit with fucking love and care. He actually made multiple ones depending on the weather and season.

Man has even made throw pillows, regular pillows, water bottle cases, table cloths, coasters, bags, cushions, and made your own curtains. I mentioned before that everything in your home was either made, customized, or renovated by Toji. This stays TRUE because almost all the pillows and blankets in the house are his creation. The blankets and pillows that cover Megumi and Tsumiki’s beds? All Toji. Both pillows and blankets match each other and are in respective colors for the two. Megumi has one at his dorm because it gets cold over there and he hates sleeping in the cold.

If you are a stuffed animal fiend, like me, you ask Toji to make you any stuffed animal you want. Definitely make squishmallow dupes for you if you asked him. In your personal room/office, there’s a pile of stuffed animals in the corner from Toji that you pluck one from the pile and hold it while relaxing or walking around the house. The ones he loves to make are bees, dragons, whales, dolphins and dogs. And they’re so soft and huggable, you squeeze them all the time. Toji just grins to himself knowing the things he makes brings you and the kids happiness.

Toji “Anything my wife wants, my wife gets. No questions asked” Fushiguro

It’s normal for you to come home to see Toji crocheting/knitting away at something. You either find him in three places at home: the engawa in front of the courtyard and garden, the family room with the shoji doors open, or in his personal room/office. Mostly, he sits outside sitting on the engawa working away at something. It makes him work better, or so he says. Makes his own needles and hooks because of his big hands. Megumi still has his crocheted stuffed puppy when he was younger, still going strong even though it’s been worn down from love. Tsumiki has all the Sanrio characters knitted/crocheted as gifts from Toji.

Tsumiki always wears her hair up in a ponytail, Toji makes her scrunchies in her favorite designs and colors. Her favorite cardigans and pullover sweaters that keep her warm during fall and winter were made by Toji because he wanted to try making outerwear. Luckily it worked in his favor. Tsumiki asked Toji if he could make her a tote bag because she needed a bag for outings. She comes home from school one day to see three of them in different sizes. She has those cute little flower keychains on her school bag and outing bags too because she asked Papa Toji for them. The massive white and blue circle rug in her room is from Toji.

Megumi’s winter scarf, earmuffs, and hat are made by Toji too. Megumi will never admit it out loud but he appreciates that Toji made it for him. They keep him and he doesn’t feel the wind chills nipping at his face. Megumi also appreciates his dad for making his stuffed animals. I’m projecting here but Toji made a set of plush stuffed animals after his shadows. His divine dogs, all of them. Megumi keeps them on his stuffed animal net in the top corner above his bed. Megumi wears a jacket and hoodie made by Toji all year round because of how versatile they are. In general, they’re Megumi’s favorite clothes to wear too.

Thinking about asking Toji to make a present for Nobara and Yuuji on their birthdays. You asked Nobara what her favorite color and style was while Yuuji said he wanted a new hoodie. Toji makes them pretty fast and the two are in love with their gifts. Nobara is wearing her bag EVERYWHERE, and I mean, EVERYWHERE she goes. Yuuji, like Megumi, ends up loving his hoodie that you always see him wear when he’s in casual clothes. Since Nanako and Mimiko grew up with Megumi and Tsumiki, one of Nanako’s cardigans and a pair of her socks are made by Toji while Mimiko only has a random plushie Toji made for her when she was younger because Suguru had to clean the other one.

Not me thinking about how Tsumiki, Megumi, and Mayumi(JJK OC) baby blankets are handmade by Toji himself with their own individual design and patterns. Megumi and Tsumiki’s are still in good condition even though they were lovingly used by the two throughout their whole life. Their baby hats, socks, and certain outfits were all made by him. He keeps them all in individual boxes to not lose them. Gets sentimental and nostalgic that you catch him staring as he holds the small clothes in his big hands. Reminiscing about Megumi and Tsumiki being babies and small children, now realizing that they are growing up before his eyes.

God, all of it is thoroughly well knitted and crocheted that people thought you bought it from a store. “No, actually my husband made it for me. Isn’t he skillful and amazing?” Your friends and co-workers lowkey ask you if Toji is willing to take commissions for them. They’ll pay for it obviously but they want good quality home-made items Toji makes which gives you an idea. You asked Toji if he considered making orders for other people besides his family. He did think about it but he said he would get overwhelmed when receiving orders and packing them up. You asked him if dealing with the orders and packaging them would help him change his mind. So you unintentionally set up a small business with Toji. His shop consists of blankets, bags and baskets of any kind, pot holders, rugs, coverings, and pillows. It runs where one week is for receiving orders, one month is for making them, and another month to send them out. Making a spreadsheet/list for Toji to show what he needs to make. Probably gets finished with all the orders in two weeks or something.

For some reason, Toji wears eye-glasses when he knits and crochets. You don’t know why but it makes him more handsome that your brain rots/short circuits every time you see him working away. He got you all flustered and down bad it’s insane(but absolutely valid). But you don’t understand why he would need them since he already has better vision and eye-sight than 99% of the population.

“Honey, since when do you need glasses?”

“I need it so I don’t strain my eyes when working on them?”

“Can you, like, squint? You already have 20/10 vision. You don’t need glasses when you have superhuman vision, Baby.”

“Doll, just because I have good eye-sight doesn’t mean my eyes aren’t as sensitive. My eyes are still bugged by light, shit hurts and gives me headaches. Anyway, can you pass me the blue yarn in front of ya?”

Megumi and Tsumiki always see you with their Toji. You’re chilling and minding your own business with their baby sister napping away while Toji is working away at a rug because he is bored. Even though he’s been doing this since they were young, the two still can’t get over how their dad can make a king-sized blanket(start to finish) in four hours. Or when they come home from school and see Toji finishing up on a big and long green dragon, turning to Megumi and Tsumiki asking them, “Do you two think your mom would like this?” Or they could be chilling then Toji asks them to try on the projects he finished to see how they look. Tsumiki and Megumi are his main critics, you are too but you aren’t bothered by certain details to criticize Toji’s projects so he leaves it to the kids.

Mayumi(JJK OC) is chilling by Toji as he’s working away, either sleeping away or playing with her stuffed animals close within sight. Being the three year old she is, she sometimes hides underneath the unfinished blankets and pops up from under to surprise Toji. Papa Toji gives his iconic DILF chuckle that has you GEEKING and GIGGLING like a damn school girl when you get the chance to hear it every time. He just pats her head, calling her a little rascal or princess, then resumes.

I’m projecting once again but you know those cute crochet dolls? Like the ones with the big black eyes, big head, small body, and no mouth? Toji made those of the entire family. There’s one of himself in his iconic black compression shirt, white sweatpants, and kung fu slippers. He added a little scar too where his mouth would be. Then there is your’s, all pretty and pristine with your iconic outfit. Toji getting your colors and features down to the bone. Next is Megumi and Tsumiki, literal carbon copies of their real versions. Toji said Megumi’s hair was the hardest part to make lol. Then Mayumi’s doll is later added once she’s born. The mini Fushiguro Doll set sits on the top shelf of a pristine black display case, next to the tv, in the family room.

He’s the type of guy you wouldn’t expect to be good at a skill like this then later found out he’s an absolute master and god among men. Toji doesn’t parade around craftsmanship because he knows how some guys have fragile egos. But he won’t shy away when people ask him about his work. Pulls out his phone to show people the things he made with two needles, one crochet hook, and a shit load of yarn.

Satoru, being the shitter he is, tries to tease and bully Toji about it. To which you reprimand and scold him for it. But Toji doesn’t care about dealing with his antics because it’s a practical skill and keeps him out of trouble. Then you remind Satoru that his winter scarf he always wears was made, the one you gifted him for his 18th birthday, was made by Toji at your request. Satoru never wore any scarf because he thought you made it for him. But for you to tell him Toji actually made it for him, Satoru shuts himself up and doesn’t shit on Toji anymore.

Toji loves it when his family uses/wears the things that he made. Usually wears a goofy smile or grin on his face to conceal his prideful yet satisfied self, knowing his creations are appreciated and loved by his family.

Tag List:

@luqueam @ploylulla @tqd4455 @wolywolymoley @captainbabybear @ravenswife

Tag List(@ w/ no links):

@szillx @g0th1xac1d @SleppyAnn @kneelarhmstrung

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nothing0fnothing · 1 year ago

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hey I have some lived experience personal care advice I had to learn the hard way in my adulthood after growing up with abusive neglectful narcissistic parents. Maybe it will help someone else.

The most important room in your house to be clean is your kitchen. If you only have a few spoons and a whole house of mess, spend them on getting your kitchen clean, hygienic and tidy enough to be usable.

spending money on things that last longer or work better isn't a waste of money. You don't have to use the cheapest of everything because spending is bad work out what YOU think is worth splurging on.

Always buy the best shoes you can afford. Taking care of your feet is so important for your health. If you're afab the same goes for underwear, buying one pack of good quality, good fitting cotton breathable underwear will save you so much money on feminine care supplies if you get what I'm saying.

Get your feet measured in a shoe store. Especially if you're over 25 your feet will have grown since you were 18. I spent years thinking my body was wrong because my feet ALWAYS hurt. My girlfriend suggested we measure them and I realised I was in shoes two sizes too small. For years!! I didn't even know shoes were supposed to have space in them.

a cheap bottle of washing up liquid (dish soap) costs like £1 and can be used on basically every surface. Clean your counters, toilet, sinks, bathtub or shower, oven and hob with a scrub daddy and some cheap washing up liquid. It doesn't react with other chemicals and it cleans deeply and easily. I even use it on the inside of the shower glass where it collects that crusty water residue.

When bathing with an unscented bar soap everywhere first. Then wash a second time with your scented soap. The scented liquid soap isn't designed to clean you it's designed to make you smell beautiful.

Don't use scented soaps on your kitty. Don't use femfresh or other feminine washes on your kitty. Don't use feminine wipes on your kitty. You use your unscented bar soap you use on the rest of your bodh on your kitty once a day. That's all it needs.

You don't need sewing skills to mend things. A £5 sewing kit you keep somewhere in your house and maybe a 2 minute YouTube tutorial is all you need to fix holes in your clothes and make them last longer.

Cereal for breakfast is quick and convenient but aim to eat protein for your first meal. Things like eggs, meat, a protein shake, Greek yogurt. You'll feel fuller for longer and your body will appreciate it.

most things don't need to be ironed. For the things that need creases out a steamer is better for the fibres and easier to use. Simply hang up the item and hold the steamer against the creases.

#cptsd recovery #abuse recovery #trauma recovery #recovery #ptsd recovery #mental wellbeing #mental wellness #dysfunctional household #self care tips #self compassion #self healing #personal growth #self acceptance #mental health #emotional health #therapy

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venusandsaturnsrings · 6 months ago

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every time someone normal seeming likes one of my tame posts i feel the need to post something deranged… like firing off warning shots to keep rent down… anyways…

did he like getting rough in bed? yes, most definitely, but boothill had never delved into anything further than smacking you around, choking you, or getting a bit mean with his thrusts and words. anything more… serious, for lack of better words, hadn’t been on his plate before mainly due to him not previously having a real relationship and not being super into little flings; something insecure still nibbled at his body. yet he still wanted to try something new and exciting that would let him have real control over you in a way he hadn’t before so, he began scrolling through forums and sites with his phones volume silenced as he perused different kinks and ideas for something that would scratch that itch. then he found it, just the kind of thing he’d been looking for.

preparation was nothing more than a couple minutes of thinking and testing the scrappy motels stability before he sat himself on the edge of the bed, hat thrown on the table that was missing something that made it rattle obnoxiously. he waited, metal and silicone uncomfortably strained and needing your touch in his stupidly tight pants, for your arrival. when you walked in, boothill was immediately on his feet wrapping his iron arms around you while cooing something about a surprise that made your gut stir. he kissed you sweet and gentle before taking you further into the room where in a neat row atop the bed sat an array of weapons you didn’t think he’d even be able to carry. some you couldn’t even identify with the sharp edges and complex triggers seeming to contradict each other. yet stood behind you chattering about testing, ‘all these beauty’s out on my beauty,’ was boothill who somehow procured all twenty-two; you counted. with a thick swallow, you asked what exactly he’d be doing to which he smiled all sharp teeth and practically demanded you strip.

naked and admittedly nervous, you watched as he plucked a long and slender knife from his charcuterie of weaponry. the blade was at least six inches and when he dragged it across the poor quality cotton and something trashy sheets, it made a clean slice through. even boothill seemed surprised, whistling quickly before bringing the blade to sit firm against your throat. he seemed eager and giddy and he hadn’t hurt you before so you doubted he would now but then he slide it across and you felt the bite of metal split your skin. ruby beaded and slipped down your chest as your eyes stung and he pushed you back to lap up every drop that threatened to slip down and away from sight.

he brought the blade across your whole body, silver nipping at every place he deemed appropriate until you were shaking and hazy beneath him. boothill hummed to himself more than anything as he finally brought himself between your legs for his prize.

“ya’ trust me a bit too much, sugar, but don’t cha’ worry,” he slipped himself through your wetness admiring the crystalline tears travelling your lashes, “gon’ take good care of this lil hole now. once ya’ wake up, we’ll have a nice big talk ‘bout yer silly head bein too dumb to understand danger. then, maybe, have a go at this with my gun. not gon’ blow yer brains out, promise. my darlin’s too pretty to be splattered on the wall…”

#cw: gunplay #cw: bloodplay #cw: blood mention #cw: dubcon #cw: manipulation #smiles rubs my legs together #<- WHAT…#i think he’s cute when he gets turned on by blood and killing #rolling smthn in my brain abt ipc reader getting [REDACTED] by boothill <3 #boothill x reader #boothill x you #honkai star rail x reader #honkai star rail x you #hsr x reader #hsr x you #hsr smut #honkai star rail smut

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mysteryshoptls · 7 months ago

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SR Jamil Viper - Luxe Couture Vignette

"If I let this opportunity pass me by"

[Fairest City – Crystal Galleria]

Jamil: So, this is the "world's most beautiful plaza", the luxury shopping arcade Crystal Galleria.

Jamil: It's no wonder that the passage is lined with high-brand shops.

Ace: Woah! I totally dig those clothes in that shop's window! I'ma check 'em out.

Jamil: Hey, Ace! Ah man, I'll go and bring him back.

[Grim, Vil, and Azul look exasperated]

Shop Staff A: Welcome～!

Ace: Woooah! There's a ton of cool-lookin' clothes and accessories! This's so awesome!

Jamil: Hey… Don't just run off on your own. Come on, we're heading back to Vil-senpai.

Ace: It's just a little peek～ I saw somethin' I liked. Like see, like this T-shirt…

Ace: …Urk, it costs 100,000 Madol [1,000 Thaumarks]! That's waaay too expensive for me!

Jamil: That price is fairly standard for a high-brand shop… Hm?

Jamil: This stitching… It's pretty shoddy. Looks like they're using pretty low-quality cotton, too.

Jamil: Strangely, this doesn't look like the sort of thing that would be sold at this price.

Ace: Huh? Aren't T-shirts all made of the same stuff?

Jamil: Sure. But high-brand T-shirts are generally made with high-quality cotton.

Jamil: Better quality cotton is soft and have a nice feel to it.

Jamil: Not only does it not wrinkle easily, but when the cotton is made into T-shirts, it keeps its shape for longer and makes for a nice silhouette.

Jamil: The design of these other shirts isn’t too terrible… But the fabric quality is just too low.

Jamil: There's no way a shop selling at this level can have a store in the Crystal Galleria.

Jamil: Which means… They must have lowered the quality of their material after opening. Did they run into some kind of business issues?

Ace: Hey! That jacket's so rough-lookin' and cool! Excuse me, I'd like to try this on!

Shop Staff B: Ohh my, I'm sorry. I'm afraid that jacket cannot be tried on here.

Jamil: …

Ace: Huh? Really?

Shop Staff B: That's right. That is a really pricey jacket. If it is somehow dirtied or damaged, it would be on the customer to compensate the loss, wouldn't you say?

Jamil: …So essentially, he has to decide to buy it or not without trying it on?

Shop Staff B: Well, I guess that's right.

Jamil: …Would I be allowed to try these slacks on?

Shop Staff A: Unfortunately, that won't be possible either. Sorry.

Jamil: Ah, right. Thought as much.

Ace: C'mon. Isn't that a stupid rule?

Middle-aged Man: Oh nice, this is a pretty nice shop. The prices seem pretty reasonable, too.

Shop Staff B: Oh, what an important looking customer! Welcome～! Is there something in particular you're looking for?

Middle-aged Man: I'm wanting a jacket, see… Think you have something that'll suit me?

Shop Staff A: Well, if that's the case, how about this one? It's one of our most popular designs.

Shop Staff B: I'm sure it will be perfect for you. Please, try it on!

Ace: Wha―!? But when I asked earlier, they said it wasn't allowed to be tried on!!

Shop Staff A: Students like you can't possibly buy something like that, so there's no reason for you to try it on, is there?

Shop Staff B: Please go home before you start to disturb our other customers. We don't have the free time to be dealing with you two.

Ace: Huh...!?

Jamil: …Not only are their products low-quality, but so are the staff's customer service.

Jamil: There's no reason to stick around in a shop like this. Let's go meet up with Vil-senpai and the others.

[Fairest City – Crystal Galleria]

Ace: Wha was that all about, treatin' us like dirt just 'cause we're students!? That was terrible service. That pissed me off so much!

Ace: First they shoo us out, then they play all buddy-buddy up to the rich-lookin' guy.

Jamil: I bet that since they've been rubbing elbows with the rich and famous while working at that high-brand store…

Jamil: They've completely started to think that they've improved their own social standing.

Jamil: Thinking about those sorts of folks and getting upset about it is a waste of time. Just shake it off.

Jamil: Only the best brands, in both name and reputation, will flourish here at the Crystal Galleria.

Jamil: I can't tell if they had a change in management since opening, or if they've suffered business losses…

Jamil: But from what I saw, I can't imagine that place continuing to be suitable for this passage.

Jamil: Even if we do nothing, I'm sure they'll have no choice but to close down eventually.

Ace: It could ruin a brand's rep if they got kicked out of the Crystal Galleria. That'd feel sooo good to see, though!

―The next day

Jamil: I really can't relax at all while at Vil-senpai's side. I'll have to relax as much as I can during my personal free time here.

Jamil: Maybe I'll check out the café at the far end of the Crystal Galleria.

Jamil: Hm? This shop looks… I guess I can check it out.

Clerk: Welcome! Please feel free to look around.

Jamil: …This place is completely different than the one yesterday. Now, where's that outfit I saw in the window…?

Jamil: Ah, here it is. I thought it looked like a pretty nice jacket from outside, but the pockets and lining give off a more casual feel.

Jamil: This isn't something I see often. The material is good and the sewing and embroidery is delicately done…

Clerk: Would you like to try it on? Come this way.

Jamil: Thank you.

Jamil: Yeah, the size is good and it fits well. I think this color also actually goes well with the clothes I brought with me, too…

Jamil: …How much is this jacket?

Clerk: That would be 50,000 Madol [500 Thaumarks].

Jamil: I see. Would you allow me to think on it?

Clerk: Of course! And please take your time to look at our other items.

Jamil: A 50,000 Madol jacket… That's a bit of a steep price for me… Hmm…

Jamil: The fabric's quality, the design, and the superb stitching make this very high quality…

Jamil: If I think of those factors, even 50,000 Madol is fairly cheap. Also…

Jamil: I've found this in the Crystal Galleria, of all places. If I let this opportunity pass me by, there won't be another chance to buy something like this.

Jamil: …Excuse me. Could I purchase the jacket I tried on earlier?

Clerk: Absolutely. I'll go fetch a new one for you. Please wait a moment.

Jamil: Sure.

Jamil: …I was able to buy a sensible jacket from a reasonable shop here in the Crystal Galleria.

Jamil: Yeah. I'm definitely satisfied with this. And I'm sure this'll be a great memory.

[Fairest City – Queen's Palace]

Shop Staff A: KYAAA! VIL-SAMAAA! YOU'RE SO BEAUTIFUL!!

Shop Staff B: SO BEAUTIFUL! I JUST HAVE TO GET A PICTURE OF THAT STUNNING FACE!

Jamil: Hm? I think I saw those two screaming fans over there yesterday...

Shop Staff A: Oh, look! Do you think those guys walking alongside Vil-sama are models too? Should we ask for an autograph?

Shop Staff B: EXCUSE ME!! PLEASE GIVE US YOUR AUTOGRAPH!!

Jamil: …Hahah! You sure you want my autograph?

Shop Staff B: Absolutely! …Wait, huh? I feel like I've seen him before…

Shop Staff A: Wait! Isn't he that customer that we turned away yesterday…!?

Jamil: I'm honored that a mere student like myself would stir your recollections.

Shop Staff A: Wh-Who would have thought he'd be so famous to walk the tapis rouge…? And he looks so good in that outfit!

Shop Staff B: If we had sold clothing to those boys yesterday, it might've been such good publicity!!

Shop Staff A: H-Hey! Once you're finished here, would you care to come visit our shop once more?

Shop Staff B: We have a collection of garments that would look fabulous on you! Please allow us to design your new look!

Jamil: I have to decline. Your shop does not have any article of clothing that would suit me.

Jamil: After all, just as you said yesterday, there is no need to try anything on.

Shop Staff A/B: U-Uhhh… So when we said that yesterday, uh…

Jamil: If that is all, perhaps you should head home now? Not only are you bothering others around you…

Jamil: But I also do not have the free time to be dealing with you, either.

Requested by @ordinaryanon.

#twisted wonderland #twst #jamil viper #ace trappola #twst jamil #twst ace #twst translation #twst tapis rouge #mention: vil

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moremaybank · 11 months ago

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HOME THIS CHRISTMAS — j.m

pairing: jj maybank x fem!reader prompt: "i thought you were going home for christmas?" - "well, i couldn't leave you all alone." requested: here (ty @drewstarkeyslut) warnings: none naughty or nice ! ౨ৎ

When you first told JJ that you had to fly back home to visit your parents for the holidays, you could see the sorrow in his eyes. He tried his hardest not to let it show, throwing on the best smile he could and saying “That’s great, baby. I know you miss ‘em. I bet they’re thrilled.”

What he really wanted to do was get on his knees, loop his arms around your legs like a child and beg and plead for you not to leave him. He couldn’t help it. Most of the time growing up, he’d duck out of his house, not too eager to spend quality time with Luke. Quality time in which Luke would spend being wasted out of his mind and souring the mood. John B always had Big John to celebrate with, and now he has Sarah. Kie would stay with her parents and possibly do something at The Wreck to give back during the festive season, and Pope would spend it with his parents as well.

It’s not like they tried to leave JJ out. That’s just what ended up happening every year.

But now that the two of you were together, he hoped that he’d finally get to experience Christmas with someone he loved.

Too bad the odds just weren’t in his favour.

He moped, albeit internally (though you knew him far too well to believe that he was happy, or even simply okay). With the date of your departure rapidly approaching, he grew even more defeated. When you asked him about it, he knew he couldn’t lie to you. But he would just say that he was going to miss you. That he’d been excited to start new holiday traditions with you, but you won’t have the opportunity to do so. And while you argued that you could still do everything he’d planned out before and after you returned, you understood where he was coming from.

It wouldn’t be the same.

“It’s okay, baby. I don’t want you to worry about me. I get you all to myself for the majority of the year, you should be able to go visit your family without feeling guilty.”

Your hands rub a path up and down his brawny arms. “You know, no matter how many times you say not to worry, I still will.”

He smiles, leaning in to kiss the tip of your nose. “‘N I love you for that, but that doesn’t mean I’m gonna let your guilt hold you back. You’re goin’.”

And that was that.

Or, at least, that’s what JJ thought.

When JJ woke up on the twenty-third of December, the bed was cold and empty. There was no one scratching his back, kissing up the length of his spine and playing with his hair. No one whispered how pretty he looked as he slept, how tan he was in contrast with the white cotton sheets embracing him.

His shower was even lonelier than the wake-up had been. Still, he forced himself to continue with his morning routine before begrudgingly getting himself to work. JJ never enjoyed work, but now that he couldn’t look forward to your daily visit…let’s just say he was no longer the ray of sunshine he always was in your company.

The day dragged on, possibly the slowest he’d ever experienced. He waited for a text or call from you to ensure that you’d reached your destination with all your precious limbs intact. But hours went by, and he hadn’t heard from you. Worry bubbled in his chest, but he just told himself that you were reuniting with everyone, and you couldn’t find a second to pull yourself away from them.

Meanwhile, you were running around ordering all of JJ’s favourite foods, buying matching pyjama sets and decorating your apartment. You hadn’t bothered to do so earlier since you were planning on being away, and truthfully, you didn’t want JJ to be surrounded by all the reminders of why you weren’t there.

In hindsight, maybe it would’ve been better to make it homey for him. Especially now that you were on a massive time crunch.

When you were done, you shot JJ a quick message.

Hi, baby. Miss you. There’s a surprise waiting for you when you get home. I hope you like it ♡︎

Though he would’ve loved to hear your voice, joy washed over him once he read your message. You were so good to him. You had a habit of acting like a madman every time you had to travel, and in between freaking out the way he knew you were, you took the time out of your busy schedule to brighten up his day.

The drive home felt far too long. He wished for nothing more than to shower, crack open a few beers and chill. Smoke so he could fall asleep without you.

On another note, his curiosity also ate away at him. He wondered what his crazy girl had left behind for him.

He stepped inside your shared place, noticing a cast of light coming from the next room. Shit, he thought, she’s gonna kill me if I left the lights on again. But when he reached the room, there you were, wearing red plaid pyjamas and fuzzy socks, standing next to a large pile of presents in front of your brand-new pine tree.

“What…What are you doin’ here? I thought you were goin’ home for Christmas?”

You crossed the room, looping your arms around his back and looking up at him. You watched his blue eyes sparkle in the light.

He’d never looked so delighted. Relieved.

“Well, I couldn’t leave you all alone.”

“But, what about your family? They’re expectin’ you,” he spoke, though he pulled you into him further. “What if they hate me for making you stay here?”

Your head tilted, and your heart melted. He was so disappointed by the thought of having to spend Christmas by himself again, but the first thing that popped into his mind at the sight of you was the idea of your family being upset with him.

He was too sweet for his own good.

“You didn’t make me do anything. I wanted to stay. It wouldn’t have been Christmas without you. As for my family — who do not hate you, by the way — they’re coming down in a few days. And they can’t wait to meet the boy who makes me happy.”

He didn’t even respond. Not verbally, anyway. He simply gave you a shining grin, cupped your face and kissed the life out of you.

Oh, yeah. Best decision ever.

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the-bofurin-digest · 7 months ago

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Hajime Umemiya Casual Headcanons

Casual Headcanons

> Loves the smell of just basic, fresh cotton. It's his favorite only after the smell of a freshly watered garden in the spring. > Cannot and also will not ride a bike. Has tried to learn but can't coordinate enough to pedal AND steer at the same time. > Would probably enjoy DnD once or twice for fun. Would enjoy to pretend being someone else for a few hours while having an adventure > Hates socks. > Secretly reads The Secret Garden weekly. > Highlight of his weekends is Karaoke with Kotoha, Hiragi (who was forced into this mess) and Tsubaki

Dating Headcanons

> Love language when receiving love: quality time. not only does he like spending time with his friends, he love spending it with his partner. Nothing makes him happier than the two of you just relaxing on a nice sunny day, him working on his garden and you laying in his hammock napping or reading one of his books and just being close to one another. > Love languages when giving love: Acts of service, a given. This man would do almost anything for you with or without you asking. It can get a bit annoying, actually. > Comes up with obnoxious nicknames/ "Ship name" for the two of you. INSISTS you guys are referred to as that early on in the relationship (Hiragi eventually convinces him to change his mind) > Is a sucker for moonlit slow dances on the school roof with you. Has compiled the perfect playlist for just the occasion but will even do it in public. If he hears your song over the market radio he will not hesitate to pull you in his arms for a quick little spin around the aisle while you blush and laugh > Blanket hog during covers. You better have two and even then he still might roll up in the second one. > When he's beat up or had gotten involved in something rough, he will shut down and not come to you until he is healed/in his right mind because he is afraid of scaring you away. One too many cuts, bruises, seeing him in a fight is what he thinks will end your relationship. It takes a lot for him to accept that you are in it for the long haul, despite his positive and happy demeanor the self worth of that side of him in relationships is hard.

#hajime umemiya #hajime umemiya headcanons #wind breaker (satoru nii)#wind breaker manga #satoru nii #umemiya hajime x reader #haruka sakura

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mediumgayitalian · 9 months ago

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“Will. Hey.” He reaches out when the medic doesn’t react, forcibly stilling his hands. Even then, he can feel the minute twitches, the fighting he’s doing with himself to keep still. “It can wait until tomorrow.”

“They leave tomorrow,” Will stresses, finally pulling his hands free. “The Romans are early risers, Nico, you know better than anyone, I need this done before they —”

He cuts himself off, too invested in the sprawl of paperwork completely covering the nurse’s station. Under his eyes is almost completely bruised black, not unlike the war paint he wore so long ago, and there’s a grey dullness to him. If he stays in one place too long, he sways on his feet.

“I’m fine,” he says, suddenly, as if remembering Nico is there. He pauses briefly to shoot him a small, strained smile, then returns to his frantic sorting. A red thumbprint bleeds onto the corner of the page of one of the files. He doesn’t seem to notice.

Without straying too far, Nico gathers the supplies he needs. He pulls out a tray to grab some antiseptic, swipes a Pac-Man bandaid off a box on the counter. Arms laden with his spoils, he nudges the half-door open with his hip, setting the supplies down when he’s inside the round desk-station.

“Will,” he says quietly, wrapping his hand around his elbow. He jumps.

“I’m — fine.”

“You’re bleeding.”

He blinks, staring down at his hands; brows furrowing as he notices the several scattered paper cuts crossing almost every finger. Many of them are clotted, scabbed over; dried blood streaking between his freckles and swirling around stark white scars.

“Come here.”

Without protest, for once, he does. He sets down the pen clenched in his left thumb and turns to face Nico fully. In the minimal space between them, his hands shake.

“I didn’t notice,” he murmurs, flinching as Nico soaks a cotton pad and presses it to a cut on the inside of his thumb. Nico can’t quite read the expression on his face, although there’s a choked quality to his voice. “I need to — before they —”

“Not everything is your responsibility,” Nico interrupts. He meets Will’s gaze head on, his own gaze steady, heart breaking at the fragility in his ice blue eyes. “Not everything is your responsibility, Will,” he repeats, firmer this time.

Will’s face crumples. “I haven’t slept in five days.”

Nico closes his eyes. “Gods, Will.”

“I’m sorry.”

In moments like these, Nico hates working for his father.

He had left to relative chaos. Relative, meaning in comparison to what the rest of the eight billion people on the planet would consider calm, camp wasn’t it, but by demigod standards it wasn’t too bad. Several Romans, including Reyna and Hazel, were due to arrive the day after he was summoned by his father, which was a bummer, but he had assurance from both of them that they’d stay long enough to see him. And reassurance from his father that the errand wouldn’t be too perilous. And, lastly, a threat (warning out of love, he would say, but Nico knows a threat when he sees one) from Will to take it easy.

He got back to debris and blood and a flurry of stress — a weapons development disaster, he’d been quickly informed. No deaths, at least not yet, but several in critical condition that were quickly approaching it.

And Kayla and Austin, back at school, and Will in the infirmary by himself.

“Will,” he repeats for the third time, a little more urgently this time. He places a gently finger under his chin. “Look at me a second.”

He regrets asking, almost, when Will meets his eyes, although he immediately feels guilty for the thought. The son of Apollo is so rarely vulnerable, stubbornly intent on carrying the burdens he’s stuck with without half a hand of help. It wears on him, and the proof of the weariness hurts Nico somewhere, deep in his soul; he hates bearing witness to it.

Worse, though, is the knowledge that Will is struggling with it himself.

“Everybody critical has been stabilized,” he says firmly. When Will opens his mouth in protest, he adds, “I can feel it, Sunshine, do you trust me?”

“Yes,” he says, immediately. He snaps his jaw shut. “Yes.”

Nico’s own shoulders slump when Will exhales, long and exhausted. “Good. This —” he gestures to the paperwork — “this is secondary, Solace. I don’t care if they want to leave tomorrow. You need rest, and, hell, if they’re that pressed about it, I’ll make them do the fucking paperwork.”

“Please, don’t,” Will says, laughing feebly. He swiped quickly under his eyes, pulling away, and Nico lets him, if only because his small smile seems genuine, if not exhausted. “The idea of that actually makes me want to puke. I hate paperwork, but I hate anyone else doing it more.”

“Right, right.” Nico nudges his shoulder, something like teasing showing in his eyes. “Heaven forbid someone dot their i’s incorrectly.”

“Exactly.” Will looks so serious that Nico stills, trying to figure out just how anal, exactly, his friend is, before his face breaks out into a wide, genuine grin. Nico’s stomach flips. “I’m only teasing, Death Breath. I don’t actually care if people dot their i’s incorrectly. And I would appreciate the help.”

“I feel like it hurt you to say that,” Nico says, once he recovers from the staggering force of one million megawatts of smile power.

“It did.”

“Also, you implied that there genuinely is a wrong way to dot your i’s.”

“…Of course there is.” Will looks at him strangely. “Maybe I’m not the one who’s sleep deprived,” he muses, reminding Nico that oh yeah, dumbass, Will is actually genuinely sick with how little sleep he’s gotten, maybe fix that.

“Will you sleep, now?”

Will hesitates. “There was a girl with a — skull injury.”

Nico understands immediately. (He saw the mangled mess of Lee’s shroud.)

“Come sleep in my cabin,” he suggests, squeezing his wrist. “I’ll keep watch, and you’ll have some privacy.”

“Okay,” he says quietly. He allows himself to be tugged out of the infirmary, only looking back a couple times. “Thank you, Nico.”

“Anything for you,” Nico responds, just as quiet, and his heart races when Will beams.

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javiscigarette · 1 year ago

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Just Focus on My Love

Frankie Morales x f!reader

Summary: Frankie just thinks there are better things to do than play a silly video game called Stardew Valley (or a very self-indulgent sweet baby boy Frankie fic)

Warnings: NSFW 18+ only!! No use of Y/N smut duh, oral (f receiving), a bit of body/pussy worship, fingering, squirting, spitting, hair pulling, multiple orgasms, unprotected sex, he adds a finger just for funsies, creampie, cum play, frankie loves to run his mouth when he's horny, also I know this man has killed people but he is just a baby

Word count: 4k

A/N: Inspired by Focus by miss Charli xcx!! Also this is dedicated to all the real gamers out there who play Stardew. May your crops flourish. Also this may secretly be the first part of a lil series I'm cookin up but you didn't hear that from me!

Frankie finds you on the sectional in the basement in full veg mode. You’re sitting in the corner of the couch with your legs stretched out on the cushions in front of you with the lights down low.

You’re playing the same game you’ve been playing for months now, the game Frankie is slowly starting to despise. He had actually been the one to suggest finishing the basement and creating this little sanctuary for you to play video games.

But he didn't think about how if you started spending more time curled up playing your games, that would be less time spent with him.

“Babyyy” Frankie whines from where he’s standing near the foot of the couch, at the end of your outstretched legs.

“Hi, Francisco” you reply calmly, not taking your eyes off the screen.

Frankie takes that as an invitation.

You pause the game and giggle as he climbs on the couch before ungraciously collapsing on top of you. He rests his head on your chest that’s covered with one of his t-shirts.

“Don’t distract me, Frankie” you say firmly between little giggles while he gets comfy.

“No promises.”

He snakes his arms around you, trapping his forearms between your waist and the couch cushion You roll your eyes and wrap your arms around his neck to hold your control behind his head. You unpause and go back to the game and Frankie gives you almost five whole minute before he sighs again.

“You’ve been down here for hours, bebita. What even is this game? Skyblue Valley? ” Frankie groans.

“Stardew Valley. And I told you I’m so close to finishing the community center and I want it done this weekend”

Frankie grumbles again and turns his head to look at you straight on, his chin resting on your chest, his face inches away from your’s.

“But I’m bored and we should be spending time together. Strengthening our bond, yanno”

You snort at that.

“Strength of our bond?”

“Yeah! Quality time! One of the love languages.”

“Frankie, baby, we spent the whole day together. And as soon as I’m done with this we’ll spend the rest of the night together”

“C’mon, cariño.” Frankie whines.

He shifts around again until suddenly there’s some pressing hard against the front of your hip. It’s not surprising - Frankie can’t keep his hands off of you. He’s needy too, requiring almost the same amount of your attention that a 3-month old puppy would.

“Not gonna work, Francisco. You’ve gotta try harder than that” you say plainly, keeping your eyes glued to the screen.

You should’ve just kept your mouth shut.

Frankie immediately sees the challenge and lunges at it like a rabid dog. He narrows his eyes at you, his lips curling up in a mischievous smirk.

“Frankie…” you try to warn him, already seeing exactly where this is going.

“Just keep playing your game, hermosa” Frankie says calmly, turning his head to rest his cheek on your chest again.

He moves to unpin his arm from underneath you and starts to fiddle with the hem of your (his) shirt. The cotton is soft and worn, just like all the other shirts and sweaters that you’ve stolen from him.

He never complains, not even when half of his clothes end up on your side of the closet. He loves seeing you in them, seeing how they fit on your body, how they smell like you at the end of the day. He can never get enough.

He slips his fingers under the hem and traces the pads of his fingers over the smooth skin of your stomach and your hips. It’s mindless, the way his hands roam your body, tracing paths that he’s traced millions of times before.

He gets lost in it for a few minutes. He shuts his eyes and lets his hand drift all over you like he’s trying to memorize the way you feel under his fingers and his palms. It’s soothing for him too. Grounds him and reminds him that you’re real and you’re here.

His palm is hot on your skin, leaving a burning trail as it roams your body, sliding over every square inch of skin that he can reach. It’s a simple and fairly innocent gesture, but you already feel something swirling in your tummy.

Eventually Frankie remembers his mission and gets back to work.

He slowly slides his palm from your rib cage down the front of you until just his fingertips dip under the elastic waistband of your sweatpants. He doesn’t stay there for long before sliding his hand back up to where he started at your rib cage. He repeats the process a few times, his fingers sliding further and further under your waistband.

He looks up at you but you’re still unbothered, completely focused on your game. Internally, it's a completely different story. You’ve been wet since the moment he laid down and you can feel the damp cotton of your panties sticking to your core. He always gets you going like that. But you genuinely did want to finish this. And more importantly, you wanted to see what Frankie has up his sleeve.

He pushes himself up until he’s sitting between your legs with enough room to slide your pants off, pulling your underwear down too in the same motion. Frankie parts your knees, slowly spreading you open and revealing your wet seam. His cock lurches almost painfully and he whispers “Jesus christ” to himself at the sight of your pussy already swollen and glistening without him even properly touching you.

He settles between your legs once again, laying on his abdomen with your dripping cunt inches from his face.

He takes his sweet time though and scatters sweet kisses on your inner thighs. He can’t help but stop every so often to nibble and suck at the smooth skin, leaving fresh red marks among the fading ones that he gave you yesterday and the day before and the day before that.

He feels your muscles twitch under his lip and he glances up at you, but you’re still focused on your game. Damned and determined, he slowly kisses his way up your thigh and stops when his face is inches away from your burning core.

With no further preamble, and because he can’t wait any longer, he dives right in.

And he’s fucking ravenous with it.

He flattens his tongue and groans into you as soon as the taste of you touches his tongue. He licks you from your leaking hole up to your clit before taking the swollen nub between his lips. He takes his time, sucking on your clit and flicking it with the tip of his tongue before letting go and licking back down to your hole where he dips his tongue inside, his head going dizzy when he feels you clench around his tongue. And the sound of it is crude, the sucking and slurping and his ragged gasps for air as he dinks you down and feasts on you.

He’s greedy too. He spreads your lips open with his thumb and forefinger, holding you open so he can plunge his tongue inside of you as far as he possibly can with his nose bumping against your clit and he groans deeply into you again when he feels you clench around his tongue.

Your eyelids flutter and your eyebrows draw together while your eyes roll back a bit. With a quick sideways glance, you see him with his eyes closed as he loses himself in you. Every bone in your body wants to sing but you bite back your moans, determined not to give in so easily.

Frankie takes his mouth off of you with a wet pop. He’s breathing heavily, delightfully out of breath. You haven’t paused your game yet, but your hands are motionless on the controller. Your chest is heaving with quick breaths and your bottom lip is red and puffy from you gnawing at it while you try to bite back your moans.

He’s almost there.

Frankie knows what makes you tick. He has spent hours and hours between your legs mapping out every inch of you and carefully studying your reaction to his every touch until he memorized every single little thing that made you shake and squirm and scream.

So that’s why he uses both thumbs to spread you open before spitting onto your already dripping seam and listens happily to the groan he knew you would let out. He doesn't even bother looking up at you when you make a noise. He’s too enamored with watching the way his spit glides down your cunt before settling around your pulsating hole. With his mouth watering, he latches back onto you.

And he’s messy with it. He buries his face in your pussy, overindulging in the way your slick leaks out onto his tongue and drips down his chin, moving his face side to side and smearing it all over his beard and your inner thighs until you’re both a mess.

You’re quickly losing this battle and like clockwork, your thighs start to tremble just slightly.

He’s got you right where he wants you.

He unwraps an arm from where it’s locked around your thigh and brings his hand up between your legs. With no warning, he sinks two thick fingers inside of you. He moans loudly against you when you gasp, your back reflexively arching and your hips grinding up against his face.

Finally, you surrender and toss your controller to the side and grip onto Frankie’s fluffy curls instead.

You moan his name, the sweetest sound on Earth Frankie thinks, as you tangle your fingers in his hair and pull his face impossibly closer into you and hold him in place there. Frankie doesn't miss a beat and sucks your clit in between his lips as he steady pumps his fingers in and out of you. He hums in delight, tingles running from his scalp down his spine and to his toes as you start to rock your hips against his face. The vibrations of his sounds against your core cause hot flames to start licking at the base of your spine.

Despite your fingers tugging harshly in his hair, he pulls back from you just enough to mumble “Ride it, cariño. Ride my fuckin’ face,” his voice raspy and breathless before latching back onto your aching core.

You listen to him because why the fuck would you not. You tighten your grip in his hair, and his jaw goes slack as you start to rock your hips up off the couch and back down again, sliding your dripping cunt up and down his awaiting tongue.

Frankie could die happy right now. He moans when your thighs squeeze either side of his head while your hand on the back of his head keeps his face pressed into you so firmly he can't get a good breath. But he’d rather pass out than move an inch away from you right now. And the sounds he’s making are obscene, his muffled grunts and groans and whimpers going straight to your lower abdomen where the pressure of your impending orgasm is quickly multiplying.

Everything feels so perfect, his fingers rhythmically sliding in and out of your pulsating hole, expertly stretching you out and filling you up as you hold onto his hair for dear life and ride his tongue, letting his scruffy beard scrape deliciously against your inner thighs.

Frankie knows you’re close, he can hear the way your moans are quickly growing more and more desperate and can feel you clamping down around his fingers. It’s time for his final move.

He pushes his fingers inside of you as deep as he can get and instead of pulling them out again, he keeps them in place and curls them upward. The sound you make is angelic and Frankie’s cock twitches hard from where it’s pinned against the couch cushion. He hasn’t paid a single ounce of attention to his throbbing length. And he doesn’t want to. He wants to, needs to devote himself entirely to your pleasure, so fucking desperate to feel you come underdone under his tongue.

He breathes heavily through his nose as your hips start building up speed as you grind against his mouth. He keeps working his tongue while repeatedly pressing the tips of his fingers into your g-spot until there’s no more air in your lungs and your head is fucking spinning.

It starts in your hips, the way your pace falters lets Frankie know what’s about to happen. He doubles down on his efforts and his eyes roll back when your thighs start shaking violently on either side of his head.

“Frankieee” you whine, your nails starting to scrape against his scalp. He gives you a low and throaty growl a nonverbal way of saying “I’ve got you, let go for me. Give it to me, please baby”

And you do.

Your orgasm crashes down on you, knocking all the air out of your lungs as every muscle tenses in your body. Frankie doesn’t stop, not for one second, even when you start to gush around his fingers. The groan he lets out is animalistic, as you squirt against his face, your juices pouring down his hands and dripping down his face and chin onto the couch below him.

You buck your hips and squirm underneath him as your pussy clenches with each wave of pleasure but he keeps his mouth glued to you, drinking you down. He can’t get enough. He keeps lapping at you, trying not to waste a single drop but it’s impossible with how hard you came.

He keeps going as you ride it out, just basking in the noises you’re making and the feeling of your fingers tugging sharply at his hair, never wanting this to end.

But your intense pleasure is fading away and sensitivity is starting to quickly replace it. You let him have his fill for a few more seconds as he desperately laps up everything you gave him. But it quickly becomes too much and you start to push him away. With a pitiful whine, he pulls back reluctantly and rests his head on your thigh.

But you’re an absolute sight to behold in front of him. Your inner thighs and your puffy cunt are drenched, so messy and wet with a small wet spotunder the couch from your juices that Frankie couldn't lick up. Your inner thighs are rubbed red from his beard and there are crescent marks on the top of your thigh where Frankie was gripping you.

“You’re so fucking sexy” Frankie whispers, watching your cunt clench weakly around his fingers as he slowly slides them out of you, moaning quietly as a small amount of liquid dribbles out of you and onto the couch.

He tries to give you a break so you can catch your breath. But you’re just as impatient as he is. So you card your fingers through his hair before tugging slightly, a small mewl slipping past your lips.

Frankie looks up to meet your gaze and raises an eyebrow when he sees the desperation still clouding your eyes. You just look back at him and whine pathetically but he knows exactly what you want.

He doesn't tease you, doesn’t even mention the fact that your game is unpaused on the TV. Because he’s fucking needy too. And there’s a wet spot on the front of his briefs from where he was leaking precum while he was grinding mindlessly against the couch as he ate you out to prove it.

And now, with you looking like this, he needs you bad.

Without saying anything and keeping his eyes fixed on you, Frankie wipes his mouth with the back of his hand like he just finished eating a fucking 5 course meal and stands up from the couch to quickly shed off all his clothes. But he moves too fast though and hits his shin on the coffee table. You hiss and grimace at the sight but he barely reacts to the pain before kneeling back down on the couch between your legs again.

Your mouth waters when you see his cock, impossibly hard and angry red, the tip wet and shiny with precum as it bobs between his legs, thick and heavy.

“Gonna let me have you, cariño?” Frankie asks through a gravelly grumble before spitting in his hand and coating his cock in it as if you needed any more lubrication. It can’t hurt though, Frankie is thick and no matter how wet you are or how many times you take him, he stretches you out with a delicious burn. Every. Single. Time.

“Yes Frankie, I’m please I need it, fuck” you whine.

Frankie shushes you and lines himself up at your entrance, his fat tip pressing against your aching hole. You try to roll your hips up but he brings his free hand down to your hip, effectively pinning you in place with one broad palm.

“Just take it, baby,” Frankie whispers. “Let me give it to you.”

With a heavy sigh, Frankie pushes into you. He tries to go slowly, but you’re so wet that he sinks in with ease and it doesn’t help that your greedy cunt is practically sucking him in. He bottoms out with a broken moan and brings his other hand to grip your hip.

You’re a mess underneath him, keening and moaning freely as your walls clench wildly around him. You know he’s not going to last long and being so close to the tailend of your last orgasm, there’s not much hope for you either.

But Frankie is going to take as much as he possibly can from you.

He gives you a few moments to adjust to his size and the feeling of being stuffed full of him. The stretch burns pleasantly as your walls flutter around him.

“F-Frankie, fuck you feel so good s-so fucking deep, baby” you babble in between moans and gasps for air.

He tightens his grip on your hips as he pulls out halfway and drives back into you. His cock throbs inside of you at the sound of your moan.

“I know, baby.” Frankie sighs. “But you take it so well. Always take it so well. Letting me stretch your perfect little pussy out, huh? Such a good girl making room inside in that sweet cunt for my thick fuckin cock, letting me fill you up. Your fucking perfect, cariño. So fucking good, I’m so lucky”

Sweet, sweet Frankie. The human embodiment of a basket of puppies that runs his mouth and fills your head with filthy words behind closed doors.

Frankie knows he should give you more time to adjust to his size, but he can’t help himself. He starts to build up a steady pace, not wanting to waste a single second of being inside you, grunting at every beautiful sound you make.

You just lay there and take it, moaning at the feeling of him splitting you in half as he pounds into you, desperately chasing after his own orgasm.

He slides his hands down from your hips to your inner thighs before prying them apart and pinning your legs to the couch, leaving your pussy on full display for him. He lets out a strained moan when he sees the way your lips are gripping him as he pulls out and sucking back in as he slams back into you.

“M’not gonna last long, baby” Frankie pants with his eyes glued to where your bodies are connected. You’re already hurtling towards your second orgasm but you manage to fight the overwhelming pleasure that’s rooting itself in your bones again to open your eyes and look up at him. You’re presented with the most gorgeous sight of Frankie fucking you with no regard. His curls are flopping down in front of his eyes as he stares at where he’s disappearing inside of you, his jaw is slack and hanging open, and his heaving chest is starting to glisten with sweat.

“Mmmm cum inside, Frankie. I wanna feel it” you moan when you feel his hips stutter.

He grunts before dragging his eyes up your body from your wet pussy to your blown out pupils. He stares into your eyes for just a few seconds as he keeps fucking into you.

Then he winks at you.

Knowing that can only mean trouble, you watch him with bated breath. He drops his gaze back to where he’s pounding into you. His eyes twinkle with curiosity as he moves one hand from your thigh and brings it to your mouth.

He gives you just one finger, slips his index finger past your lips and watches intently as you swirl your tongue around his digit, getting it wet with your spit. When he’s satisfied, he pulls it out and brings it back down to your core.

He slows down a bit and you gasp when he traces where he’s stretching you out with his wet finger.

“Think you can take a little more?” Frankie asks, looking up at you while continuing to prod at your stretched entrance.

“Yes” you moan, not giving it a second thought because if Frankie thinks you can, then you know you can.

“Thank you, cariño” Frankie whispers.

You give him a weak nod and try to suppress the whimper that’s bubbling up in your throat when he stops moving until he’s still inside of you.

You do whimper, well more of a strangled moan, when he starts to work his finger covered in your saliva into you, right alongside his thick cock.

“Holy shit” you cry out, one of your hands flying up to claw at his bicep.

“Is it too much?” Frankie asks, his eyebrows drawn together in concern as he tries to read your facial expressions and your body language.

You shake your head fervently and squeeze your eyes shut.

“N-no, keep going” you pant. “Feels so good, Frankie, please keep going.”

And because Frankie is trained to follow commands so well, he keeps pushing his finger inside of you, cursing under his breath as you squeeze around his finger and his cock.

“Jesus christ, baby” Frankie hisses as he starts fucking into you again.

With the added thickness of his finger (which is ridiculously thick by itself), you genuinely feel like his ripping you open in the best way possible. You can’t hold on for much longer and the sounds he’s pulling out of you are insane and as he delivers you into the awaiting arms of your second orgasm.

“C’mon, baby. Can feel every fucking inch of you squeezing me” Frankie huffs as he continues to plow into you. “Soak my cock, baby please. I wanna see it this time.”

There's a long moan of his name and the sound of it bounces around in his head before traveling as a tingle down his spine. He watches you in amazement as you lift your hips off the couch as you start to gush around him again. He doesn’t stop pounding into you though. And the sensation of your slick leaking out around his finger and his cock and sliding down his to his palm and his balls as you clench around him is too fucking much.

His own body takes him by surprise, his hips faltering as he starts to cum inside you with no warning. He grunts loudly as he empties himself inside of you and it’s so much that he can’t remember the last time he came this hard.

The two of you stay there for a minute, just trying to catch your breath. Frankie starts to go soft and once the stretch isn’t so much, he slowly slides his cock and and finger out of you. He groans softly in his throat and watches with heavy eyelids as his cum, mixed with your own release, starts to leak out of you, adding to the dark spot on the couch from earlier.

As if he’s on autopilot, Frankie mindlessly gathers his cum that’s seeping out of you on two of his fingers before he pushes them back inside of you. He slowly pumps his fingers in and out of you, marveling at the way your hole leaks around them until you whimper and squirm at the overstimulation.

He carefully removes his fingers and slides them into his own mouth because he can never get enough of you. Never ever. You watch with hooded eyes and a dopey smile as he licks your slick and his cum off his fingers, closing his eyes and making a small noise in his throat as he does so.

He takes his fingers out of his mouth with a strand of saliva briefly and obscenely connecting his tongue to his fingers. He opens his eyes and gives you a goofy grin, too entirely pleased with himself. He leans down and presses his lips against yours. He laughs through his nose when you eagerly lick into his mouth in an attempt to get a second hand taste.

After a playful bite to your bottom lip, he pulls back to look at you.

“You’re greedy” Frankie teases with a smirk. “And messy” he adds when he looks down to the wet spot on the couch.

The same couch that the two of you bought a couple months ago because ironically, your old couch was starting to collect some stubborn stains. Frankie knows you’ll give him shit about it later and will probably be the one on his knees cleaning the cushion in a few minutes, but he doesn’t care one bit.

“Don’t even try, Morales” you say with a chuckle and an eye roll.

Frankie giggles sweetly before ducking down to give you another quick kiss. He then straightens up and turns his head to look over his shoulder at the TV. He turns back to look at you with a shiteating grin.

“You left it unpaused” he tries to say plainly, but the glee is evident in his voice.

He won.

Your face drops from sated to stressed as you look over at the TV screen and see that the game has advanced three more days while Frankie was playing with you.

“Francisco Morales!” you shout, reaching behind you to grab a pillow and throw it at him. He scrambles off the couch and runs away cackling before you can hit him.

#frankie morales smut #frankie morales x you #frankie morales x reader #triple frontier #triple frontier smut #triple frontier fic #pedro pascal characters #javiscigarette

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bitchlessdino · 2 years ago

Note

joshua hard thots

cockwarming him after rounds of fucking because he can't get enough of feeling your pussy wrapped around his cock

Pairing: Bf!joshua x gn!reader

Genre: tender smut, drabble

Word count: 1.0k+

tags: established relationship, yearning, love, cockwarming, assumed unprotected sex

author note: this probably wasn't what you were looking for anon but i was in such a soft sexy mood I wrote this and have no regrets. this felt like therapy and i love writing again.

You thought there were better things to do than be in bed all day, but Joshua thought otherwise. These free days weren’t rare but definitely getting sparse, placing more significance on quality time, even indoors. The thought vanishes thin into the air when your boyfriend develops the mood physically, wasting no time–in his words anyway–and captures your naked body in his, dipping his hips into you to create friction that he knew drove you crazy.

He could never get sick of you moaning his name. It was like the butter to his perfectly toasted slice of bread, a simple symphony of goodness that in no way could be replicated.

The supple skin that you spent minutes of an hour moisturizing wouldn’t go to waste, tasting as sweet on his tongue as good as it smelled. He was in love with every texture and bump, ingraining into every wrinkle of his brain for keepsake. He could never have enough and he’d prove it too.

“Mmh, yeah…taking me like that…that good?”

There isn’t a moment in time his cock inside your core isn’t pure heaven pushing in and out of you. He’s careful not to hurt you, caressing your hips, and cushioning your posterior in his large hands, while he’s rearranging your insides and with only thoughts of what would please you more. The matter that his dick doing a swell job of ebbing every twitch to your hips only boosts up his ego a smidge, he claims, knowing damn well it was quite the understatement.

“Josh…squeeze me harder…fuck me deeper…”

He also likes how you knew the things to say, ordering him around, teaching him, gratifying him with the heightened volumes of your whines, your screams, his name on your tongue, again. It’d go on for hours–days if he could–and it’s never enough, but god did it feel good to try.

At this point, it’s in the middle of the afternoon and the only reason either one of you had gotten up was to go to the restroom or fetch snacks and water. Neither of you were hungry, thirsty, or felt the need for a different kind of release, so you stayed back together in bed. Joshua has made his point of being the man for you by having you climax in his presence countless times in countless methods and for countless hours. It was time for rest, you both concluded. For now.

You’d nuzzle into his bare chest, feeling the sweat radiate off his incredulously toned body, while his arms–bulging and rippled in from arm day for three times a week every week–shifts around your frame, tugging you close to him. His soft smile lets out a satisfied hum, puckered lips meeting your eyebrows. “You look so tired.”

“Whose fault is that?” you tease with your eyes.

His laughter reminds you of cotton candy, sweet and plush if ever materialized. It brought you back to how addicted you were to such a treat as a child. Now its been replaced with its personified self, Joshua Jisoo Hong. He melted in your mouth better than any confectioners sugar.

“I should feel guilty but,” he shrugs his shoulders to make a show of it, “I don’t. As long as you keep moaning my name or look at me with those eyes–”

You bubble up in laughter, “What eyes–”

“I’ll never stop. Love me the way you do and I’ll make every opportunity together a core memory.”

You light-heartedly scoff, your canine digging at your bottom lip when your eyes fixate on him, feeding into every word, every look, every breathing pattern. Your hand comes up to cup his face and you reach his lips, slowly but surely proving to him you’d do the same. While he was best with words, you were best with action, which proved the physicality of the situation more significant.

When you first met, he was brave enough to be honest in confessing he had little plans to be ‘active’ in a romantic relationship, a sign saying turn away now before you fall into an endless pit of a sexless relationship with no soft landing. He was proven otherwise with you, someone beyond pure imagination. You were a breathing fantasy to him. He was willing to give up everything for you.

Now in the present, his tongue dances against yours, your naked body clutching him, and finally his easily replenished cock tickling against your thigh. He pushed his hand up against your lower back into his torso and your warmth hovers on top of the head of the length, your moisture sliding against the sensitivity and you whine until Joshua feels it in his throat. “Put your dick in me…”

“You just admitted to being tired,” he lightly retorts, already twitching and heart bouncing at the thought.

“I’ll just…keep it warm…please, my love…”

You are sounds of bliss no matter what the words are, but in this case, he couldn’t imagine loving you anymore with the need in your rasp and the ache between your legs.

“Alright,” he relinquishes, hands finding balls of your flesh and guiding you to hug his girth with your fluttering walls that knew no rest. His arms bring you closer–somehow possible–and knead into your skin, feeling the soothing touch on the tips of his digits until he’s plunging the trimmed nails until his DNA is a part of you.

“Mmh, yes,” you mewl, returning your attention to admire his beautiful face, looking at you and only you.

You may have made the request but he was relieved to enjoy it, having already missed the contracting squeeze of your walls pulsating around his needy cock. He always feared that if he had a taste of the best vessel for his cock he would have, he’d refuse to let it go–now wishing, hoping, praying you’re never pried away from his hands.

You grind down to the base of his cock, his full-length home inside you and you share a groan, giggles following after when you lock eyes. Both of you were stupidly besotted with one another, even cherishing the sweet tenderness of languid movement of both your hips not on the journey for the climax, but rather appreciating each other wordlessly, as you’ve always done.

Arousal never leaves either of you while together, finding euphoria even in the smallest things such as doing laundry together or dishes together. The thought of a moment like this replays in both of your minds. Hardly sentences, hardly words, just how you fit like a puzzle, metaphorically and literally.

#svthub #seventeen smut #joshua hong #seventeen #joshua hong smut #hong joshua smut #seventeen joshua #seventeen fanfic #seventeen x y/n #seventeen x you #hong jisoo #hong jisoo smut

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tainted-liquor · 11 months ago

Text

☆‧₊˚Cat N' Spider ⋆.˚[1.7.24]- e42!Miles x Reader 🕸˖°.TWs || Miles is lowkey a pottymouthhh

What makes a villain? Is it their frigid, pompous attitude tailored to mask that sentimental wound from past trauma? Or is it the narcissistic qualities that wash away the blood of the innocent from their fleeting, voided sense of memory? No matter the man or lady behind the mask, they all unite under one common umbrella- shielding themselves from the icy rainwater that forces them to heed the treacherous callback from the rain…

A desperate covet to be acknowledged…no…remembered.

Villains aren’t born; they’re created. There was no such thing as “good” or “bad”, there was survival, and there were morals. And when you were only thirteen, you became the victim of a team of scientists determined to create a “better” world for you and the Brooklyn, New York population. So emerged Plan 42-J, where a spider was sucked up from your world and engineered on another.

And when that spider found itself back in your world, guess whose teeth it found refuge in?

Little old you!

“Yeah…I’ll be there at like seven. You want somethin’ from the store?” Your boyfriend, Miles grunted, his scarred and sculpted shoulder blades facing the camera as he made himself look presentable in his bathroom mirror. “Uhhh, you don’t have to…Actually, wait, get me a pineapple Fanta and some chips,” you muttered, tugging on your pretty little red Converse with as much force as physically possible.

“Bet–...I might be a little late actually,” Miles sighed, turning around to face the camera and picking up his phone as he began to tap away at the miniature keyboard. Your face pulled into a deep frown, jet black brows furrowing as you pulled your face up from the invisible string connecting you and your shoelaces. “Miles, come on now…this is like the hundredth time you were late to shit we planned!” You grunted, rolling your eyes in slight sorrow and annoyance.

“I know, I know. I’ll try to wrap this shit up as fast as possible, I’m sorry mama” he sighed, running an exasperated hand across his face. “It’s just thirty minutes, ok?” He reassured, his gentle and wispy eyelashes batting softly as he toyed with the gifted gold-clad locket that nestled perfectly between his collarbones. You sighed, pressing the end-call button before falling backward on your couch, sinking into the comfy beige cotton and sighing deeply.

It wasn’t even 20 minutes before you were prompted to spring up from your couch, turning on the TV to monitor whatever was happening in Brooklyn today. Crime rates are dropping, cities are being rebuilt, and smiles are all around. A sense of gratitude washed over you– you weren’t too fond of being Spider-Girl ever since you found out about HQ, but it made ‘fixing’ your world much more satisfying.

But alas, good things don’t last forever. The news reporters' eyes widened as they cupped their ears with what looked like shock and fear, cutting themselves off mid-script to announce a new threat down Kings Plaza. “Oh hold on– give me just a second, Brent, but we’re just now receiving word that the infamous ‘Prowler’ has been spotted down at the abandoned Kings Plaza shopping outlet. Witnesses say he was seen breaking through the window of the old building, presumably chasing after a taller man.”

You groaned loudly, throwing two unfortunate pillows off the couch as you stomped back upstairs to throw on your crimson and white Spider-Suit. “Stupid fucking prowler…ruining my fuckin’ date night,” you grumbled, angrily pulling the mask over your face before calling out to your mom. “Hey, mom? I’m gonna make a store run before Miles gets here! I'm gonna grab ingredients for cookies!” You shouted, quickly opening and closing the door so it’d seem like you left the house.

You slipped out the back window, climbing your way up the fire escape before swinging through the night, wind cascading across your masked face, taking deep gulps of air through your nostrils. Your blood boiled like overboiled soup stock, salt and muck bubbling to the surface as you grumbled under your breath. That stupid fuck ass had a habit of somehow ruining your quality time with your boyfriend, postponing dates and meetups in a futile attempt to put away your irksome ‘nemesis.’

You’ve had a couple of encounters with the Prowler, with him being the most determined villain since the ‘Rise of Spider-Girl’. Of all the many villains you’d put away, he seemed the most persistent in riding his wave of crime to fruition. The air, filled with its normal hubbub, voices clamoring together as car engines blended to create the everyday atmosphere of Brooklyn.

You dipped down in between the abandoned subway, scanning the topography of the old station before hearing an uncomfortably loud–

BANG!

You got up on your feet, quickly scanning the areas as you attempted to squint through the thick veil of darkness that covered your eyes. The soft, meshy fabric of your red and white spider mask made everything increasingly more difficult as you attempted to analyze every small detail of your location. Blurry pipes, massive trash bags, debris, and a run-down train that had been claimed by rust and nature.

You walked down the wide tunnel, clicking on the flashlight that you had attached to your tactical belt a couple of months ago. You smiled to yourself, glad that one of the many trinkets you’d created since becoming Spider-Girl was proving to be useful. It was freezing, your jaw clenching as you lumbered forward, running your gloved fingertips across the rusty metal walls.

“Yo! Come on, man. I know you’re down here somewhere, and I don’t wanna be in this cold-ass tunnel!” You shouted, not even sure if you were actually talking to anyone else. “I mean, hero to…villain? Anti-Hero? I’m sure you’ve got people to get home to. And I’d hate to send your busted ass home to your wife and kids with new bruises,” You threatened, voice low and serious as you began to do another routine scan around your new surroundings.

“My wife is none of your business,” A stern and rather agitated voice spoke from the far distance, causing you to whip your head around and assume a battle stance. You sucked in a large breath of air, lungs expanding and burning with each passing second as you ran forward at half your usual speed. “And I’m not going home with shit. From you.” He enunciated, the static overlay coating his voice like molten lava and burnt sugar.

“Man, wrap this up! All of the other villains are putting their shit away, why can’t you! Have you ever considered a job?” You spat, stopping mere inches away from the source of the loathsome voice before squinting up at the Prowler. “You’re the most desperate bitch I’ve ever fought with, you know that? I’ve never felt the need to prove something this bad,” You spat, growing more and more agitated by the second.

“You funny as shit for real. Now If Ian have no human decency, I’d have been sent yo lil’ass to the hospital but ion put my hands on women cuz my daddy raised me betta’ than that. So we can do it like this– you can get the fuck out of my face and I can keep my hands to myself, or I can show all of Brooklyn how you nothin’ but a lil girl playing pretend in tight spandex,” He grunted, dropping down from the tall ceiling and hitting the ground with a sickeningly heavy thud.

His mask illuminated about 6 inches in front of him with bright purple, advancing towards you slowly as he invaded your personal space. You were sure that had he not worn his signature holographic mask, you would’ve felt his breath ghost the tip of your nose. He was so close you could lift a finger and make immediate contact with his chest.

“You piss me the fuck off.” You grunted, staring back at the monster in front of you as you let the thick, discomforting silence fill the lack of space between the two of you. He was menacing, it made you wanna get as far away from him as possible and go home to your kind, and loving boyfriend. But a job’s a job, no matter how intimidating the ‘client’.

“And you give me a fuckin’ headache. ¿Lo sabes, verdad?” He rasped, quickly landing a sharp blow straight to your gut as he sent you flying backward almost one foot. It hurt like hell, your stomach suddenly felt tight and uncomfortably empty as you struggled to regain control over your breathing. “Mira, me estás haciendo sentir mal. You think I wanna hit you?” he muttered, slowly backing away from you before taking off in the opposite direction.

What a fucking dickhead.

You swallowed the bile that threatened to erupt from your gullet, regaining your footing and taking off after the arrogant man once more. You focused on your breathing, drawing long and stable breaths that you allowed to ease the pain that plagued your gut. The wind whistled around your ears as you charged forward, gentle howls and soft rustles caressing your ears with each step.

You followed the harsh neon purple lighting, giggling slightly at how obvious was when you actually got up close to the guy and were able to see his mask. Your footsteps echoed across the tunnel, the heavy thuds mingling with your dull pitter-pattering as you managed to catch up to the unknown man, tackling him from behind as you made a futile attempt to pin him to the ground. And for a second it felt as though he had relaxed into your hold, his usual tense and guarded posture faltering for only a fraction of a second before you felt a painful grip on your wrist.

You went flying forward, narrowly avoiding landing on your neck as you scrambled to land on your feet. Throughout this entire confrontation, your spider-sense seemed to fail you time and time again to warn you of your opponent's attacks, making it increasingly harder to dodge any sort of blow he would deliver. Your right cheek, neck, shoulders, and gut all ached with pain as you struggled to memorize his attack pattern.

He was unpredictable; switching his style of fighting with every new punch while you went through trial and error of pattern memorization. There were claw marks in your suit near your sides that revealed your skin as you finally found a solid fighting technique against the taller man. You finally found your perfect balance, landing disgustingly heavy blows to any part of him that you could reach.

He was lean. He may be built like a twig on the surface, but his entire body was fortified by nothing but pure muscle mass. He felt nearly hard to the touch as you threw your body weight into every strike. “You’re solid. You could put your…odd level of strength to much better use, c’monnnn,” you half-whined, groaning as you resorted to low blows and a style that consisted of legwork.

The white slits on his holographic mask narrowed, indicating his clear disgust as he jumped over your smaller form. “I have things to do. You’re in my way, little bug…” He spat, making a break for the surface as he ran onto the platform and seemingly glided up the stairs. Fuck, how annoying can someone get? He was faster than a bullet train and had incredible levels of stamina.

He was everything you needed in battle. Each time you found yourselves tangled in each other's path, there was an unexplainable tension that stuck each of you together with a bond stronger than any glue. Not to mention the way he managed to evade every single sense that spider had given you; almost like he wasn’t a threat.

You watched him dart up the block, getting ahead start on a taller building as he dug his claws into the sturdy brick. He climbed like a hungry panther chasing their next meal, starving for some sort of adrenaline as you followed closely behind him. The moon illuminated his figure in a ghostly white hue, highlighting the scratched metal of his suit components.

The frigid air left gentle kisses across your clothed limbs, provoking goosebumps as you pulled yourself up on the rough, concrete roof of some random building. You looked at the man, who rested an annoyed hand on his wounded shoulder as his mask mimicked an eye roll. “No quiero lastimarte. Pero, tengo una esposa en casa,” He grunted before quickly advancing towards you with pure anger.

Suddenly, as if they couldn't be late enough, that familiar tingle ran down your spine as you saw his next move in real-time before it happened. You grabbed his left wrist, which began to outstretch in your direction, and forced pressure onto his trigger point. He released a pained groan before you lunged forward, sending the two of you tumbling forward as something fell out of the collar of the neckline of his shirt.

The white eyes widened as a pretty little gold-clad heart locket dangled around his neck, spinning wildly before settling on his chest without so much as a sound. His eyes widened, kicking you off of him before tucking the locket back in his shirt with a relieved sigh and a silent prayer. “Weird. I gave that same locket to my boyfriend,” You muttered.

There was a low chuckle that sounded more annoyed rather than amused before he shuffled back to his feet and stood underneath the pale moonlight. “My wife gave this to me. Touch it, and i’ll fuckin’ kill you this time” he enunciated, a narrow squint to add insult to his words. “Anniversary gift. I hope you not trynna get personal, cuz I’m still gon whoop your ass”

The gears started turning in your brain as you stopped, your posture relaxing as your closed fist came to a rest on your upper left hip. “June 2nd?” You asked, eyes widening a fraction as you slowly backed away from…the boy? In front of you.

He stopped dead in his tracks, looking down at you with a mixture of confusion and fear before nodding slowly. “Yeah…why?” He murmured as he walked towards you, quickly closing any distance between you that you worked so hard to make. “Mozz?” You asked, gentle curiosity laced in your tone for the first time that night.

Miles looked dumbfounded. His sudden aura of anger and nonchalance melted before your very eyes before quiet forced giggles erupted from his throat. Quiet giddy chuckles quickly became cries, babbles of “I'm sorry” quickly leaving his lips as he lowered himself to the ground and became consumed by regret. “Ma I’m so fucking sorry I would’ve never put my hands on you…” he whispered, shaky breaths leaving his lips as you quickly came to his aid.

“Wait nononono don’t cry!” you pleaded, checking your surroundings to make sure there weren't any cameras, helicopters, or paparazzi before pulling off your mask. “This doesn’t even hurt! It’s fine! C’mon don’t cry, get up,” You pleaded as you scooped up your weeping boyfriend off the floor. His mask collapsed as he leaned into your hold, wetting your suit with salty tears as he grasped at your hand.

“It’s not fine! Since when is me hurting you fine!” He gasped, “I never wanted to do this prowler shit! I only did it so Mamí wouldn’t have to worry about bills…” he confessed as you peppered gentle kisses to his face. You nodded as he came apart in your arms, feeling your heart shatter into a million pieces as he practically died upon hearing his nickname.

“Miles, I’m not mad! I know you wouldn’t ever hurt me. It’s my JOB to stop villains. It's YOUR job to…be a villain! I still don’t know what you do I’m sorry boo,” you confessed, giving his head gentle pats as he chuckled into your side. “I’m not no villain. I just do what people tell me,” he shrugged, pulling you down to the ‘ground’ with him.

“ ‘m sorry. You know that right? I’ll quit all of this prowler shit Ma I just never wanna hurt you again” he whispered, pressing his lips to yours and pulling you impossibly closer to him.

“You miss a date again and I’m turning you in,” you joked in between kisses.

“Yeah Yeah my bad”

Tags below <3333

@ashsostrange @chessbox @janaeby @faeriesoiree333 @fivestardior @an1bara @bachirasgoist @milesnanana77 @niaurluv @sp1derw1re @ban-al3x @we-loveebony @kae2kaee @dxrlingcc @al3xwqz @l0starl @hobiebrownismygod @luv-kae @moriellis @daydreaming-en-pointe @malinashiftss @imjustagirlintheworld777 @edevotion

#atsv #across the spiderverse #into the spiderverse #miles morales #miles morales x reader #earth 42 miles x reader #earth 42 miles #e42 miles x black!reader #e42 miles #e42!miles #black reader #black tumblr #black women #I love this bye

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csuitebitches · 2 years ago

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Guide to Building a Classic Wardrobe

I was asked a long time ago by an anon for a guide to build a wardrobe. This style caters to someone mature, slightly conservative, NOT fashionnova-esque, something that will last a long time in all fashion seasons, provided you look after your items well. I live in a relatively hot climate and the coldest temperature I’ve experienced when living in a place is like 10 degree Celsius, so I will admit that I am not very well versed with living in cold climates for a prolonged period of time (I don’t think a 2 week trip to Switzerland in the summer counts as “cold”).

I have purposely built with keeping neutrals in mind. I’ve learned that its best to first build a neutral coloured wardrobe in mind, then start adding colour to it. You might find this wardrobe boring, but if you work in a corporate environment/ somewhere where you can’t showcase too much colour or creativity/ if you come from a relatively conservative/ high profile-but-not-entertainment /modest culture, you’ll find this useful.

ALWAYS keep an eye on the material of the item you are buying. If you have to buy a sweater and you live in a cold climate, buy cashmere. Yes, it will be expensive, but it will keep you warm and last longer. If you live in a hot climate, invest in tops and dresses made out of pure cotton. Material plays a huge role in the climate you live in.

I do not endorse fast fashion or over-consumerism but I understand that it is affordable. I would therefore recommend you to buy things carefully and with consideration, not just for the sake of the environment but for your wallet. It’s better to buy 1 quality item than 10 horribly made, short-lasting items.

Never mix more than 3 colours in your outfit at a time. That’s something my father taught me, and I recommend you stick to it, especially if you’re new to building a serious wardrobe.

Lastly, do not be enthralled by what influencers buy or wear. I can guarantee you that the clothes they wear on Instagram aren’t even theirs half the time. Don’t fall into the trap of micro trends.

(Pictures for this post have been sourced from Pinterest).

Underwear

Nude bra + thong/ undie

Black bra + thong/ undie

White bra + thong/ undie

Strapless bra (black)

Strapless bra (nude)

2 sexy bra sets (optional, I have these in red, pink, blue)

Nipple pads

Tops

White silk cami

Black silk cami

White plain tee

Black plain tee

White tank

Black tank

Beige tank (or whatever suits your complexion - brown/ nude)

White shirt

Black shirt (satin/ silk)

Blue shirt

Pants

Navy blue trousers

Wine/ red high waisted trousers

White trousers

Beige trousers

Black trousers

Straight leg jeans (blue)

Another pair of jeans (not ripped, blue)

White jeans, straight leg/ mom cut

Skirts

White

Black

Red

Beige (a checked print, like Burberry)

2 maxi skirts

1 pencil skirt in black (work appropriate)

Shorts

Denim (not distressed)

Tailored white shorts

Tailored blue shorts

Tailored black shorts

Formal attire

1 maxi dress - red/ black/ a neutral colour

White/ black vest and trouser set

Everyday dresses

Knit dress in black/ cream/ brown (long)

2 summer dresses, short

White peasant dress

Outer wear

Leather jacket in black/ brown

1 cardigan in black/ white

A shawl/ silk scarf

Denim jacket

Long trench coat in camel/ brown/ beige

Blazer in white/ navy blue/ black

Sweater in black/ white/ red

Shoes

Black/ white/ brown leather boots

White/ silver heels

Black heels

Gold heels

Mules in black

Home slippers

Running shoes

White sneakers

Accessories

1 brown/ black leather bag

1 tote bag

1 clutch for parties

Hair clips

Tights/ leggings - sheer and opaque in black

Socks

Jewellery

Diamond studs

Everyday pendant

2-3 simple bracelets/ bangles in silver/ gold

Signet rings in gold

Chunky hoops

Devices

Hair straightener

Hairdryer/ Blow brush (i prefer the blow dry brush)

30 mm curling wand (for long, big curls)

#c suite #powerful woman #strong women #ceo aesthetic #personal growth #that girl #c suite aesthetic #working woman #empire #beauty #fashion #wardrobe #styling #capsule wardrobe #basic fashion #neutral #fashion guide

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shdo-xplosion · 2 years ago

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spaghetti straps - r. shidou ࿐

warnings: 2.4k; fem-bodied reader, coercion, reader wants to fuck more than she’d like to admit, shidou is a little annoying, shidou can lift and hold you (he stronk athlete), dirty talk, semi-public sex, a little plot, p in v, creampie

note: hi! (✿◠‿◠) my first shidou fic (finally) and my contribution to @saintshiba’s sundress szn collab! truly hope everybody enjoys my take on him cause i am so obsessed with him. banner manga cap colored by moi! plspls let me know what you think of my writing! feedback means a lot (≧◡≦)

You aren’t used to wearing things other than your typical track shorts and t-shirts, never one for fashion or dressing up, though you admire anyone who enjoys that kind of stuff.

But it’s summer, and it’s hot, and you’re at a beach house with some friends. Pulling a cotton shirt and shorts on and off over a wet bathing suit is simply not it, so for this weekend you’ve decided to pack sundresses instead of your usual attire.

It’s been 2 days and all the stares you’ve been getting from the guys are still weird, most of confusion and/or surprise, but there are a couple friends, specifically one infuriating, blond-haired insect of a man, who is very obvious in the way he looks at you, magenta eyes half-lidded, salacious smirk stretching across his lips. It’s maddening, made even worse by the fact that he already knows what you’re hiding under your little sundress.

“The yellow suits you,” Shidou purrs in your ear in the kitchen, and you feel one of his fingers wiggle underneath the thin shoulder strap of your bikini top. “Goes nice with the purple suit.”

“Too bad none of it’s for you,” you grumble, trying not to pay him much attention.

He isn’t so much your ex-boyfriend as much as your ex-mistake, a fuck buddy you had the misfortune of catching feelings for only for him to let you down gently. Or, as gently as someone like Shidou could manage.

I still wanna fuck you, though, he had told you thoughtlessly. It’s better than nothing for you, right?

You had immediately cut things off, both hurt and offended that he just assumed his dick would be enough to keep you around. That you were so desperate for him that you would just take what you could get.

No, you hadn’t quite reached that level of infatuation.

You’re still a little bitter about it, a little embarrassed, but you’re also irritated, especially since he insists on coming onto you even now.

“Who’s it for then, hm?” he asks, bending down enough for his breath to hit your neck. It gives you goosebumps. It also makes you squirm away from him.

“For me. ‘Cause it’s easy and breezy.”

“And beautiful… cover girl,” he quotes. You fight not to laugh. “But really, the dresses look good on you. You should let me take some pictures…” he wiggles his eyebrows. “More for my private collection.”

You make a face of disgust. “Ugh, you haven’t deleted those yet?” The thought of him having all kinds of lewd photos of you both disturbs and excites you. Does that mean he still uses them?

“Why would I delete such quality content?”

Narrowing your eyes at him, you threaten, “if you post those anywhere, I’ll kill you.”

Shidou grins crookedly. “Kinky.”

With an exasperated huff, you walk away.

~*~

Even with crazy, windblown hair and covered in sweat, you can still sense Shidou watching you. It makes your already heated skin burn even hotter.

Currently you’re situated under an umbrella, just scrolling on your phone while all the guys play a game of beach volleyball. If it can even be called that. They should definitely stick to soccer.

You aren’t surprised when Shidou plops down next to you, dusting up some sand so that it powders your bare thighs.

“White today,” he comments, picking at the hem of your short dress.

All you offer is a noncommittal, “mm,” gritting your teeth at the feeling of his fingertips grazing your skin.

“Makes you look innocent,” he continues. “Which we both know is a lie.”

“Shidou, please drop it. Admire from afar if you have to, but—”

“Miss when you used to call me Ryu.” He nuzzles into your shoulder, inhaling deeply, and when you try to shrug him off, you feel his teeth against your skin. He doesn’t bite hard, but it’s enough to anchor him to you.

“Ryu!” you squeal, shoving his face away.

“Just like that,” he grins before mimicking you ‘Ryu’. “Used to scream my name like that when I’d fuck you real good.”

“God, you are insufferable!”

He’s also turning you on, much to your disappointment. Hand slowly slipping under your dress, a small nibble to your earlobe.

“I know all your spots, baby. Just give in. You know you want to.” He’s using that seductive voice that always makes your breath quicken and your eyes dilate. Everything is brighter even with your sunglasses.

“See, you’re already spreading your legs for me.”

He’s right. Your knees aren’t pressed together anymore, leaving a gap between your thighs.

“There are people around, Ryuusei,” you tell him sternly, a last ditch effort to spur his advances.

You aren’t the least bit surprised when his only counter is a petulant, “so?”

His hand slides up further until his fingers brush against your covered pussy, and you bite your lip, ashamed that you’ve let him get to you like this.

“Sand,” you whine. “Don’t want…”

He hums in consideration then turns onto his back, rolling and propelling himself straight to his feet in one fluid motion. Annoying.

“To the showers, then,” he says, pulling you up.

He ignores your mumbling as he leads you to the little shower, on the beach for the purpose of rinsing sand off of sticky bodies. A little blue curtain is all that will block you from view. You’re supposed to keep your bathing suits on after all.

The water pressure isn’t strong, but it is enough to get the sand off both of you. You swear out loud as you pull your bottoms off. The dress is staying on; there’s no way you’re getting entirely naked. Shidou, on the other hand, shamelessly pushes his trunks all the way off, letting them pool on the wooden plans right next to yours.

You gasp when he suddenly spins you around, finding the strings of your top and tugging them loose.

“Get this shit off.”

He yanks the material over your head, turning you to face him again, and groans when he looks down at your chest. With your white dress entirely soaked, your hard nipples show through the sheerness. Shidou immediately starts groping you, his head falling back like he’s already on the verge of cumming just from playing with your tits.

It feels good, his palms rubbing over your sensitive buds before he pinches each one. You’d rather skip the foreplay, though, eager to have something inside you while also nervous about being caught.

To move things along you reach between your legs, running your middle finger between your folds and hating yourself for how wet you are. Like you’d said the other day, water makes a terrible lube, but if you’re already ridiculously slick, it doesn’t really matter.

You slip two fingers into your hole and scissor them apart, well aware that it’d be unwise to take Shidou without any prep. His cock is too pretty, something to be proud of, and he is. It’s thick and long, fat mushroom shaped head perfect for dragging against your walls.

“Yeah, you want it now, don’t ya?” he teases.

“Don’t push your luck.” It’s meant to be a warning, but you’re too breathless for it to have any weight.

Shidou abandons your chest in order to guide your hand away from yourself, replacing it with his own and fucking you with his longer fingers. He hikes one of your legs up, holding it to his hip, and as he stretches you out, he ruts his pelvis forward.

“Okay, I’m good,” you tell him. “I’m good, I’m ready.”

“Oh? Baby girl all cock hungry now?”

“Ryuuu,” you whine, grinding down on his hand.

“Only ‘cause you’re making such pretty sounds for me.”

He grabs your other leg, hoisting you up with the strength gained from years of dedicated workouts. You shift in his grasp until you feel the tip of his cock rub against your cunt. The amount of times the two of you have fucked, you know each others bodies well, and it’s almost second nature for you to guide him into your hole without the use of your hands.

Your mouth hangs open as he slides inside, the muscles in Shidou’s arms straining as he lowers you on his cock. You’re relying on him entirely. He’ll be in control as he supports you, and you’ll be completely helpless.

He doesn’t ask if you’re ready, if you’ve braced yourself, just starts bouncing you up and down. His fingers dig into the fat of your thighs, definitely creating bruises, and you steady yourself by tangling fingers in his hair. He’s so fucking hot like this, water running down his toned frame, blonde strands plastered to his face.

The way that you’re gripping his hair pushes his face into your tits, and Shidou groans like a porn star, lapping up the droplets that cover your chest.

Short moans are forced out if you with every bounce. Hn, hn, hn until Shidou starts moving you more aggressively and your jaw drops. Ah, ah, ah.

“Missed this sweet pussy,” Shidou pants. “Take my dick so good. Think she missed me too.”

You’re not a huge fan of him personifying your literal vagina, but you’re too far gone to chastise him for it. In fact, you agree, nodding and huffing, “I do, I do…”

His thrusts are shallow because of the position, but he still feels so good as he bullies your soft, gummy walls. The way you’re wrapped around him has your hard clit rubbing against his pelvis, the coarse hairs at the base of his cock beginning to rub you raw in a delicious way. You always did like a little pain with your pleasure, and Shidou is amazing at delivering just that.

“Really should open this curtain. Let everyone see how gorgeous you look getting fucked like this.”

“Don’t you dare,” you gasp.

“You sure? You don’t wanna put on a show for the guys? I bet they’d all get jealous.”

“Ryu, please!”

He bites the top of one of your tits then relents, rolling his striking eyes. “Fine.” His thick eyelashes are dripping with water, so pretty. “But only if you cum for me.”

You wouldn’t be able to if he hadn’t been fucking you so perfectly, cockhead massaging your g-spot, clit now overstimulated.

“Think you can do that for me, sweetness?”

You nod. “Are… are you close too?”

“‘’m always close when I’m fucking you,” he tells you. “Just looking at you gets me hard.”

Vulgar but flattering.

“You want me inside? Stuff this pussy full of cum?”

“Nnng, pleeease.”

You shouldn’t let him, shouldn’t reward him after how much he’s annoyed you on this vacation. But you love the feeling of him dripping out of you, thick and warm, enough to spill down your thighs. If you weren’t on birth control, you would never. As it is…

“Alright, cum for me then,” he commands. “Wanna feel your cunt milk me.”

Heat spreads from your pussy to the place between your hips, pooling into your tummy and traveling to your toes.

“Oh god, Ryu,” you sob, “I’m… don’t stop…”

He spreads his legs, squatting slightly so that his thighs can support some of your weight as he quickly rocks back and forth, his fat cock pistoning in and out of your spasming hole.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck!”

“m’gonna blow,” Shidou huffs. “Gonna fill you up… take my cum, baby, take all of it.”

It’s a subtle sensation, him spilling inside of you. You can’t feel every individual rope of cum, but you can feel your pussy getting fuller and fuller, stretching you even further. And then, you can feel it begin to leak out of you, coating Shidou’s cock as he pulls out until only his tip remains inside of you.

“Still as good as I remember,” he remarks, lifting you until he slips out of you before setting you back on wobbly legs.

He’s right, unfortunately. The best lay you’ve ever had.

“It was… nice,” you mumble regretfully. “Glad we’re already in a shower.”

“Convenient. Since you always get so messy,” he smirks.

“Because you make me messy.”

“I take that as a compliment.”

You rinse off the slimy fluid dripping down the insides of your legs, retrieve your bathing suit from the ground. The bottoms are easy enough to wiggle back into, but you have to ask Shidou for help with your top.

“You look so good without it, though, he says, but when you cast him a glare, he concedes. “Fine.”

As he ties it back around you, you can’t help but ask, “is it just the sundresses that did it for you? You like them that much?”

“I mean, I do like little dresses like this,” he confirms, trailing his hands down your ribs and pulling you back into him. “But anything you wear gets my dick hard. My jerseys, pajamas, your boring t-shirts n’ shit.”

“Boring but comfy.”

“And still sexy cause you’re the one wearing ‘em.”

Your stomach flutters in a familiar way, butterflies accompanied by dread. “Careful. You’re starting to sound awfully sweet, Ryu.”

You feel him shrug, his arms locked around you and his lips pressed to the skin behind your ear.

“What can I say? I missed you.”

You can’t even formulate a response to that, refusing to get your hopes up. The vacation will be over soon, and Shidou will go back to being a fuckboy. You’re not about to let him hurt you again.

So you shake your head and step out of his arms then bend down to grab his swim trunks off the ground.

“Put your pants back on,” you sigh, and, taking a page out of his book, you leave him with a casualness that you hope will mess with his head in the coming days. Just like this whole encounter is sure to mess with yours.

#shidou ryuusei x reader #shidou ryuusei smut #shidou x reader #shidou smut #bllk x reader #sundressszncollab

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