#and I weep thinking of how many people do not get to feel that | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

lizzobetumblin · 8 months ago

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Melissa hated her feelings.

She buried them in a chest in the 5th grade (along with her ability to express them). Other peoples' feelings on the other hand was her forte. She could process, decipher and regurgitate other peoples emotions effortlessly. This gift could’ve taken her through college, all the way to a degree in psychology. Distinguished Dr. Jefferson with a PhD and a cozy office and impressive roster of high-profile, weallthy clients was a shiny idea. Fate would have a different hand for Melissa her talents were exhausted on mediating family fights, friend group drama, and charming her way out of confronting her own feelings.

“Feelings.” Even saying it out loud to herself seemed silly. Something reserved for ‘cry babies’ and water signs. Typical Sunday nights started tame, reading or writing fan-fiction and drinking cranapple juice. And then like clock work her father would yell her name,

‘MELISSA!!!’ Emotionless, she’d get up dust off her Winnie the Pooh shorts and make her way downstairs. On the long walk down the hall to the stairs leading to the living room brawl, she’d go through her check list:

1.) Don’t cry.

2.) Stay neutral; Deescalate

3.)Don’t take anything personal. This isn’t about you

She padded down the carpeted stairs in her old soft socks to see her mother tightlipped and tear streaked thinking,

‘she broke rule number 1’. Her father, Michael was proud and angry, his big belly filled with self righteousness. She knew he would be unyielding in his resolve and at this point her only option was to deescalate.

‘Rule number 2’. Then her sister the water sign and calamity for the evening sat on the floor nearly fetal, face red and raw with emotion.

‘Its not your fault’ Melissa wanted to say ‘You just didn’t follow the rules… you’re loved.’ But she couldn’t say that because she’d be breaking rule number 3. It wasn’t about how Melissa felt. Even though she felt like screaming,

“VANESSA, YOU DIDN’T DO ANYTHING WRONG. DAD—YOU JUST HAVE PENT UP ANGER BECAUSE YOU GREW UP IN THE HOOD OF DETROIT AS A BLACK MAN IN THE 60s AND 70s. YOU NEED A HEALTHY OUTLET LIKE.. I DONT KNOW… THERAPY?!?!?! THIS IS A WASTE OF ALL OF OUR TIME. I LITERALLY JUST WROTE THE BEST SAILOR SATURN x CHIBI USA FANFICTION EVER AND THIS IS KILLING MY VIBE!”

Instead, she decide to hear every one out. She decided to help. To calm her dragon of a father down. To be a translator for her emotional sister. To not take it personal. To stay neutral. To not cry.

9 years later, at her fathers funeral she still never broke the rules. She played her flute and spoke at his memorial. She was present for her mother because it wasn’t about her. When other peoples' emotions bubbled up she stayed neutral. She sat through both services and she did not cry. It wasn’t until she excused herself to make a phone call outside did she collapse onto the stairs of the funeral home and weep alone in the cold Detroit snow.

It’s okay to break the rules sometimes, she reminded herself. As long as no one else sees it.

Traumas began to compact on Melissa, as they do. Humans tend to collect traumas like pebbles on a long hike. We toss them into our backpacks and keep moving forward. Some hikers would falter, but Melissa was built for this. She’d carried the stones of her family’s traumas uphill for years. She was strong.

When men began to befriend and reject her, saying ‘you’re too good for me’ but not too good to make them feel good. She carried that.

When childhood friends began to cut off the strings of her heart, saying ‘We can’t be friends anymore’. She carried that.

When her family separated like dandelion seeds, it seemed like they’d never be together again. Melissa slept on so many couches, floors and car seats sometimes she didn’t know if she’d see them again.

She carried that.

Dying was never an option though sometimes she didn’t mind the thought of it. Peace and warmth were two things she’d desperately yearned and hadn’t felt fully since the womb. Then one night in the pitch black of the hot, sweaty, roach-infested studio in southeast Houston she slept in she wondered:

‘Why can’t I break the rules?’ She’d seen everyone else in her life break them like popsicle sticks. And she didn’t just want to break the rules, she wanted to break them boldly and loudly and annoyingly and honestly and sloppily like every one else gets to do. It was in that moment, tucked in a thin jacket inside of an 8-foot high instrument cubby in the inky darkness—it hit her.

‘Is my suffering for a high purpose? Or is my suffering trying to kill me?’

She cried.

She escalated.

She took it personal.

But it wasn’t enough. She wanted to scream in a microphone in a sea of shadowy faces. She drank whiskey and wove her pain into rock music.

‘Music is my boyfriend’ she declared. The only man that kept his baggage to hisself. And it healed her. It gave her voice reason and purpose.

The pebble-laden hike became lighter with time. The incline eventually evened out to flat, beautiful landscapes where the breeze finally met her back. She knew it wasn’t gonna be easy or sunshine but even the rain cleansed her and it was beautiful too.

Somewhere in the rain she decided rules were meant to be built and broken. Like trust and love and friendships and families. Because every thing deserves the opportunity to change and grow.

So... She broke rule number 1 on stage while singing a beautiful song. Dr. Jefferson (PhD) screamed for her to stop but she didn’t listen and the tears flowed like rivers of emotion down her cheeks.

Rule number 2 was broken when she grew older and saw the injustices of the world. Marching with hundreds in protest she realized not everything needs to be pacified.

And one day when she finally fell in love, she broke rule number 3. No matter how much training she’d done she couldn't help but take every thing her lover said and did personal. But it was ok. Because in all her resistance she realized breaking rules was her power.

Melissa began to fall for her feelings. Her feelings gave life purpose. They weren’t always logical, as feelings seldom are. They were sloppy and embarrassing and rude and so fucking uncomfortable. But they were hers. And they were real. And when she sat alone sipping wine, staring at the moon…They were the only ones still by her side. Ready to break the rules for her because they loved her.

And she finally loved them back.

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2-dsimp · 7 months ago

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I remember hearing from bird owners on the internet never to pet a bird's wings and back due to it arousing the bird, so many bird owners say to just pet their heads.

So, if someone where to "accidentally" brush past a certain Harpy's wings and lower back, or to playfully mess with the feathers a bit, how would said harpy react?

Love to mess with others and want to rile up Lynx a bit heh

Cw: Fem! Reader, NSFW🔞 creampie, knotting, praise, Lynx being a horny birb, overestimation, cum inflation, breeding, exhibition, use of public toilet stall, possessive/obsessive tendencies. Slight degradation.

Synopsis: You decided it would be a good idea to figuratively and literally ruffle the harpy’s feathers and you ended up getting more of a reaction than you bargained for.

☆*:.｡. .｡.:*☆ ☆*:.｡. .｡.:*☆☆*:.｡. .｡.:

"My muse~ you know how I can’t bear to resist you on a daily basis.”

The harpy scolded, his voice low and husky with desire. Using his clawed hands to cover your lips in order for your explicit sounds not to escape the bathroom stall y’all were currently boxed inside of.

“So Why would you do that when I was just about to be handed my Grammy?"

The singer could feel himself getting closer, his own pleasure building up inside of him as he continued to pound into you relentlessly. He struggled to hold on, gritting his teeth as he tried to savor the five minutes. That he so desperately asked for, just to momentarily hold off on accepting his trophy for having the best selling album.

Using the excuse that he needed to use the bathroom to get rid of his cold feet. When in reality the moment you ruffled his sensitive feathers. Lynx damned near almost snatched you up and fucked you on stage. But thinking about his managers pleas on not causing havoc. The birdman instead hustled you into the nearest bathroom stall.

“You must’ve done this on purpose. Did you really want me to give you my knot that badly baby?"

He panted, relishing in the harsh wet smacks of his balls against your plump ass. His long lashes fluttered shut as he humped you frantically knowing that time was running out. Twitching sporadically as his fleshy pointed cock. Kept spurting out copious amounts of clear precum which continually fattened you up.

"Fuck! You’re sucha bad girl, getting me all worked up. I can feel your juices splashing on my knot, such a dirty chicky you are~”

The Harpy no doubt felt his impending orgasm threatening to burst from his leaking dick. like a pressurized dam, his family jewels throbbing to unload his hot jizz inside of you. As he felt you squirting on his meaty rod that was hitting all your weak spots.

"Imma stuff you up with so much cum, that your gonna leave a snail trail wherever you go. That way people will know that you’re taken."

Lynx trilled melodically, his tail feathers swishing as his plumaged fluffed up from the sensation of your cunt clenched down on his length that was bullying its way against your womb.

“You’d like that right? My pretty mate? Of course you would!”

He nuzzled his face in the crook of your neck biting and licking at the sweat dripping from your skin. Not even taking not of how you were crying fat tears of overstimulation from being stuffed to the brim with his growing knot lodged inside your clammy walls. His shaft still fucking itself into your weeping quim as he prepared to let go. Since it was almost time for him to get back stage and accept his reward ceremony.

“Don’t worry I’ll take care of you more later on, so for now just open up that cute womb of yours so I can flood it with my hatchlings yeah?”

With a bodily shudder racking through him he pressed his body flush against you. His wings hugging you within a protective cocoon. Whilst he released his hot harpy sperm deep inside of you, filling you up completely with his seed. He let out a breathy, guttural keen of exhilaration as he continued to ride his high inside of you, his knot still expanding in depth within your pussy as he proceeded to ground himself empty completely inside of you.

"Mmm, you feel s-so good, my muse… You think I can squeeze in one more load inside of your pretty pussy?"

Lynx drawled out , his voice scratchy and needy as he slowed down his movements. The Harpy stayed inside of you, his cock still twitching as he enjoyed the feeling of being buried deep inside of you. From hearing your small moans in response his penis already returned to half mast eager to fuck another batch of his baby batter inside you.

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starkeysprincess · 2 months ago

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Hi bby! Every time you write stepbro!rafe you eat down and when u add ur thoughts to other asks u put the cherry on top. I love. MWAH💋

I so see stepbro as the same level of psycho as s2 curtain bangs, and I thought omg he’d totally try and babytrap you one night when he gets too possessive and just doesn’t care, he needs to keep you as his forever. He’d have you splayed out on his mattress, a fucked out mess all overstimulated and ashamed of how hot you found it, and you’re both not even sure how many times he’s filled you with his load. You’re weakly crying trying to get him to stop and talk some sense into him and replenish the little logic you had left after he fucked the rest out of you. What would people think? He’d laugh darkly and say something like “princess, everybody on this goddamn island knows I’m fucked up. The reputation you need to be worrying about is your own. It won’t be long before they start talkin’. Y/N Y/L/N got a taste of the kook life and never wants to look back, so much so that she acted like the pogue trash she is and got her stepbrother to knock her up” before snapping his hips slowly and roughly fucking his seed right back into you.

hi angel !! and thank you so much 🥺 y’all are making me miss writing stepbro!rafe sm + im so glad you enjoy my input, i never know if y’all want my input but i like sharing my thoughts since y’all share yours w me <3

OHHH—i fear you’re right, he would try to baby trap you, especially when he sees how the men around you act towards you, i could see you being at the country club and some guy asks you out to which rafe finds out through topper cause topper 100% was eavesdropping

the night you get ready to go on said date, rafe practically traps you in his own room, cornering and interrogating you. when you try to push past him and leave, you find yourself being thrown onto his bed, his full weight on top of you as he’s pounding into your poor weeping cunt. your brain is yelling at you, telling you how wrong it is because he’s your stepbrother but you can’t deny the fact that it feels good

your weak protests don’t do anything, all the logic slowly leaving your head the harder he’s pounding into you & your body and brain are going into overdrive to the point you’re not even sure how many times he’s stuffed you full of his cum but he has you crying about what people would think

“everybody on this goddamn island knows how fucked up i am, the only reputation your pretty little head needs to worry about is your own. word travels fast, princess. they’re gonna say you acted like the little pogue trash you are now that you finally got a taste of the kook life. what do you think people will say when they realize poor innocent Y/N let her stepbrother knock her up?”

you’re silently thankful for being on birth control, thinking rafe is bluffing as he continues to fuck his cum deep into your cunt, only for him to dip his head down to whisper in your ear that he’s been switching your birth control pills out with placebos for weeks

#mail ˖⋆࿐໋#i stand by the fact that he WOULD switch your birth control pills out #rafe prompt ;༊#stepbro!rafe #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron prompt #rafe cameron smut #rafe cameron x you #rafe cameron obx #obx prompt #rafe cameron thoughts #rafe cameron drabble

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onlyswan · 1 year ago

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summary: in which jungkook misses you before he even leaves.

idol!jungkook x reader / angst, fluff / word count: 3.7k

content/warnings: they both cry, they’re so in love and anxious of being apart 🥲 pls somebody give my babies a box of tissue damn it!!! / making out :") might be one of my favs i’ve written heh cherry koo ily

> in which masterlist!

note: hi hiii this serves as a prologue kinda to the giving up drabbles <3 and as to not confuse the timeline, this one takes place in sept 2018 and the first giving up drabble june 2019 ^^ hehe reblogs/feedback are appreciated + as always i’d love to chat abt ur thoughts 🥺

—

“i’ll call you when i arrive at the dorm, baby. let’s pack the rest of my things together, hmm?”

you hum softly in agreement, hiding your face on jungkook’s chest so he won’t see you yawn.

you’re so adorable, he thinks to himself with a grin.

matching his outfits with you in preparation for his travels has always been one of the little ways you spend quality time together. yes, you will be physically apart for most of this year and the next… but if he just pushes that fact in the back of his mind for an hour or two so he can make you laugh with his purposely horrendous choices, he thinks he may be able to leave with a lighter heart.

one last kiss is granted to your forehead, and you nuzzle your cheeks against his warm hands to cherish every ounce of his touch you can manage to steal.

you peek from the small space of the door to smile at your lover, which he then returns rife with fondness. you wave and bid your silly bye bye’s to each other, and it’s you who ultimately closes the door despite the voice in your head bewailing its protests.

it creates a clicking sound as you push it all the way, and after that, the defeaning silence fills your apartment like a toxic gas that makes it impossible to breathe. with no other soul left to witness it, your walls involuntarily come crumbling down. your eyes become blurry with unshed tears, and they fall one by one, some getting caught by your eyelashes. they hang heavy until they inevitably roll down your cheeks, as if they’re desperate not to crash and break, as if they’re horrified of their fate towards doom… much like you are.

recognizing the sensation of your weak knees threatening to give way, you lean your forehead on the hardwood to relieve some of the weight burdening your shoulders.

your chores have piled up while you were recklessly spending every second you had left with your boyfriend. you have better things to do than to cry. however, you can’t control your face that contorts to express the pain of having your heart mercilessly squeezed in your chest, tighter and tighter as the distance between you and jungkook grows, and it will only continue to do so.

you wind up as a heap on the floor, an intricate collection of love yet to be given and shards of memories calamitous and beautiful, knees hugged to your chest as you weep.

you swore you wouldn’t do this. you fucking swore you wouldn’t do this to yourself.

since losing your family, you’ve been alone, trying to survive in this world like a leaf in the eye of a storm, carried by a raging river that travels to an unknown sea. you then promised that no matter how much you affection you’ve grown to have for someone, if there comes a time that they make you feel lonely (skin-on-skin or heart-to-heart), you will be the one to walk away first. even if it hurts, even if it leaves you empty inside. for one, you’ve never liked wasting your time. you know what you want and what you need— someone who will stay within reach. your day-to-day life is far too draining for you to find the energy to beg for love and attention… and for the love of god, there’s already too many people you wish were still by your side.

your friends have witnessed you annihilate hearts and egos, leaving behind a string of jaded lovers.

but jungkook, with his bunny-like smile and endless gestures of kindness… has somehow slithered his way into a space in your heart where no one has ever been.

the apartment feels too empty with him not around. he’s not knocking rhythmically at your door from the inside to announce his arrival. he’s not in the kitchen humming songs while chopping vegetables. he’s not in the shower yelling at you because you forgot that turning on the sink makes his water cold. he’s not in the living room watching a movie on your laptop. he’s not snuggled closely with you and snoring execessively by your ear.

it’s going to be like this for a while. it’s always going to be like this, you realize.

you’re so fucking lonely.

you’ve only gotten used to him being here, and now you need to re-learn what it’s like to be without him.

you’re forced to gasp for air as you sob uncontrollably, interrupted by occasional hiccups that make your body jolt. you taste the salt in your tears as they seep into the crevice between your lips, can feel them beginning to poison your skin.

you let jungkook come too close. he slept on your bed and he learned that you’re always cold. he enveloped you in the safety of his warm embrace and you couldn’t will yourself to leave after the first time. you’ve surrendered to him the control over your body, and also your heart, which you may be breaking alongside your rule but… walking away would mean forsaking yourself.

for the first time, you are crying not because of the absence of love, but the abundance of it. humans are essentially a collection of dead stars that are brought back to life when they are consumed by the electric ache of love and yearning. you are addicted to the antidote that is the touch of another body that burns the same.

you’re free falling.

if you were to choose the cause of your madness, you would choose this.

because for the first time, you are not cursing a name, but the universe and its twisted ways. in your one-bedroom apartment, you don’t feel small; your arrogance is as big as the sun that threatens to swallow the earth whole. the empty space on your bed is now in the shape of the man who loves you.

the back of your head hits the door, and you sigh at the new predicament that presents itself to you: the fluorescent lightbulb at your doorway is flickering as if to signal its impending death.

your bad vision begs you to look away.

it’s too high. it’s too high for you to reach. jungkook isn’t here anymore.

you bury your face in your hands, another wave of tears spilling over before you could get a hold of yourself. your cries are unapologetic; you sound like a little child who got their hair pulled at the playground.

you would much rather wait for him than find a solution. you want to bear the weight of him in every possible way there is. you want to have him in mind every time you flip the light switch, because you always seem to forget that it’s dying after a long day at school.

but for now, all you can do is sit on the floor and smell his perfume on your clothes as you wait for his call.

—

jungkook is still frozen on the driver’s seat, struck with a suspicion that he left something behind in your apartment, but he can’t figure out what else there is besides his heart in the palm of your hands.

he opens up every single compartment of his backpack, but he soon carelessly discards it at the backseat because he has no idea what it is he’s even looking for.

“what is it? what is it? what is it?” he mutters absentmindedly to himself, wide doe eyes still actively darting around the car as he mulls over what could possibly be missing. “am i an idiot? am i just making things up in my head?”

but he is leaving for tour after all, it would be a big headache if he forgets to bring something important.

something important such as…

proceeding with a final inspection, he starts patting around his body, from his chest down to the pockets of his sweatpants.

“ahhh-” he makes a noise of enlightenment when he discovers one of them to be completely empty.

it then becomes vivid in his mind— the memory of him lazily setting down his wallet on your study table before he crawled on your single-sized bed as if it’s his own.

“…shit. i need to go back.”

—

he has a smirk plastered on his face as he jogs his way up to your apartment floor. radiating with pure excitement unbeknownst to himself, he even begins to skip a step with every long stride he makes across the staircase.

thanks to his forgetfulness, he found an excuse to be with you for a few minutes more.

the fourth door straight ahead, he still remembers chanting in his head the first time he visited your building on his own.

he stands before it with the intention to surprise you, but ironically, he is the one who ends up freezing in place. your muffled sobs escape through the narrow cracks of the door, and his hand slowly slips away from the handle until it drops back to his side. his vision becomes unfocused, mind going blank, only registering the shortness of his breath and the powerful punch to his gut.

that sweet, heart-fluttering smile that comforted him must’ve killed you inside.

—

“i won’t forget to call after every show.”

“that does sound nice but…” you scrunch your nose cutely. “i won’t be upset, if that’s what you’re worried about. go straight to sleep when you’re exhausted. i know you won’t have much time to rest.”

“please! you can watch me sleep too.” he pouts. “you know i always make it work. while i eat, while i shower! that won’t change. i need to see you and gain strength… or else i seriously think i won’t survive this one.”

and jungkook hopes that he’s not too much of a burden for loving you.

although, you did tell him once in passing— that anyone can be passionate, but not everyone will bravely go on stage every night to showcase those passions, even if it means testing the very limits of the human body.

“i can’t allow that to happen, can i?” you click your tongue, copying the angry frown of your boyfriend, who you find so, so, so cool.

his features soften after you pinch his soft cheek.

“your hyungs might kill me if i make their little one mope around missing me too much.”

“w-what do you mean?” he becomes flushed with embarrassment. “what kind of things do they tell you?!”

“nothing much.” your eyes shine with a glint of faux innocence. “when we were trainees, jungkook did this… since meeting you, he’s gotten more stubborn… can you tell him to wake up earlier if he plans on showering for an hour? you know, just things like that.”

“aish! jimin-hyung!” he releases a deep sigh to express his exasperation, knitted forehead not doing much to diminish the roundness of his eyes. “i bet one of them is jimin-hyung! i’m right, aren’t i? you- you’re getting too close with him! i can’t allow this- really, i- ah! no! no!”

the burst of laughter that fills the room only confirms his suspicion. you roll over on the bed to cover your face, half of your body collapsing on top of his, and you clutch your aching belly when he begins to aggressively shake you in a joking manner.

“listen, you can’t become best friends! you hear me? don’t! my secrets… what’s going to happen to them? who else can i tell them to?!”

immediately recognizing his poor choice of words once they have left his mouth, jungkook purses his lips in regret, and it’s his turn to feel his lungs burn from the lack of oxygen.

“oh, really?” you slowly sit up as you stare at him with raised eyebrows. “and what kind of secrets do you need to keep from me? huh?”

he doesn’t waste a second to reply, scrambling as to not leave any space for you to formulate more doubts in your head.

“nothing! nothing, baby!” he flashes a dreamy smile in return to your sharp glare. he gently cups the back of your head to pull you back closer, puckering his lips as he tries to meet you halfway. “come here- give me a kiss.”

you ignore his advances, moving away from him with a scoff you don’t even bother to hide. the annoyance bubbling up inside of you feels irrational, and yet you can’t stop it from controlling your body language.

his jaw slacks in disappointment. he despises being denied affection, more importantly, a kiss meant to be shared with you.

“are you mad?”

you turn your back against him, scooting closer to the edge of the bed, but jungkook doesn’t waste time in chasing after you.

“baby!” he whines, seizing your arm and tightly embracing you from the side before you can escape. “i was just joking- i promise- i swear. you’re even the first person i share my secrets with nowadays!”

you sigh in defeat, eyes fluttering shut as you allow him to caress your face and pepper your cheek with loving kisses. loud, and slightly wet, which you used to not be fond of when it came to the lovers you had before, but as for jungkook and his dewy lips, you weirdly don’t seem to mind.

“please don’t be mad.” he coos lightheartedly before ducking his head to press his lips against yours. “i don’t want us to fight before i go.”

“i’m not mad.” your reply is quiet, and it drips with hesitance. “i just don’t want to think about you having secrets while you’re away.”

you turn to communicate directly with his eyes. if you feel sick to your stomach imagining him as a person you’d never have the grace to forgive, you don’t show it.

“you understand where i’m coming from, right?”

he meekly nods.

this is another reason why he is eager to spend all his free time with you, albeit through a screen smaller than the palm of his hand, and perhaps buy you trinkets from every city that welcomes him because everything reminds him of you. he wants to give you the reassurance that he doesn’t have any plans on doing something that may hurt you. this will be excruciating, he knows, but it is also a chance to prove himself as a boyfriend worthy of your tears and sacrifices. this can’t end before it begins. he doesn’t think he’d be able to bear that. he just celebrated his first birthday with you. it hasn’t been long since you uttered the three words he’s been anxiously waiting to hear.

“i love you. please give me your trust for now… i won’t waste it. you’ll see, at the end of this, we’ll be stronger. i promise i won’t forget my responsibilities as your partner even if we’re physically apart.”

he tenderly strokes your hair, eyes filled with galaxies memorizing every inch of your face. he’s scared, too. he’s scared that he’s overestimating himself. too ambitious, too greedy for wanting both the world and the most beautiful person he has ever seen in it to love him. he’s scared of getting too exhausted. he’s scared that you won’t be there anymore when he opens his eyes.

“i will probably mope around, though, missing you too much…” he pauses, then he makes up his mind.

him getting more stubborn since he met you— it might just have some truth to it that he’s too sheepish to say out loud, especially if his members were around to hear it.

“yes, i will seriously be a handful.” he nods to himself. “so i’m already apologizing early.”

“what are those responsibilities exactly?”

“to show you that i love you!” he exclaims in a tone that screams obviously. “to make you happy, to keep you safe… to stay committed to you- yah, you already know these things!”

but still, it’s nice to hear him say it. this bed of roses is a bed of thorns; he has chosen to sleep on it with you.

you giggle heartily at the sight of his face getting flushed. “you’ve been doing a great job then, baby.”

the praise causes his doe eyes to sparkle with glee. “really?”

“really!” his heart skips a beat when you softly cup his face in your hands, wearing that kind smile he can’t help but fall in love with over and over again. “don’t worry, i won’t let you miss me too much. i have my share of the responsibilities too.”

—

he swallows the lump in his throat, shakily sitting on the floor with his back against the door. he doesn’t know how long he stays there. he only knows that it’s near sunrise because the lights across the hallways have gone out one by one.

with an elbow resting on top of his knee, he fiddles with the laces of his shoe with no rhythm or rhyme— silently crying with you, clueless as to what he should do. he didn’t learn about this in school, nor during dance practices. no one teaches you what to do when you hurt a person you love but there’s no fault to fix and apologize for.

every now and then, a tenant passes by, and he is overwhelmed with the urge to scream at them to fuck off and mind their own business.

adding to his frustration is his phone, which has been vibrating with calls and text messages. he only spares them a dismissive glance before clicking the off button. yes, he fucking knows it’s already 5am. yes, he’s still with his baby. however, he is forced to send a reply to his manager when asked if they could finish packing his luggages for him to save time. no. no, no, no.

on the other side of the door, the pitter-patter of mechanical rain tickles your ears. your nimble fingers doesn’t cease on tapping on the keyboard even as your eyes stray to the contact name above the conversation, just to make sure that it’s your boyfriend you’re texting.

to: my jungkook

babyyy the sun is about to rise

so i’m not sleepy anymore :(

you're not home yet?

wait. if you're still driving just reply later

be a good driver before a good bf for now ☺️

ohoh i don’t mind if you don't have time to call anymore. just text me rq before you take off pleaseee so i know you're safe and sound

and after the flight ofc!! 😭

i love you! ❤️

seconds later, a pounding at the door makes your body jolt in shock. you carelessly rush to stand up, the safety measure of looking through the peephole not even crossing your mind before you swing it open.

jungkook stuns you with his presence, chest heaving with every breath as he studies you in a fog of haze. your messy hair perfectly frames your pretty face. your parted lips are raw from the crime of your sharp teeth forcibly putting an end to your crying. your eyes are still damp with tears, and they shine every time the warm light hanging above your head flickers.

if you could only read his mind, you won’t have to worry about him wanting anybody else.

once again, he finds himself helplessly infatuated. why do you have to look utterly bewitching even when you cry? fuck, and your texts… how did he get so lucky? you fuel something carnal inside of him that he has difficulty putting into words.

and so, he allows his actions to speak for himself.

“jungk-” his name is interrupted with a high-pitched whimper caught in your throat. your trembling hands desperately grasp the sides of his hoodie as you stumble backwards, struggling to recriprocate the unrestrained fervour of his kisses.

he’s out of control. he has never kissed you like this before. you don’t know if he doesn’t feel your weak fists punching his chest or he just doesn’t care. you feel dizzy… dizzy, dizzy, dizzy.

you’re confused why he’s still standing at your doorway. you’re terrified of losing your balance. you’re crushing a pair of sneakers underneath the soles of your feet and it hurts. but his fingers are tightly tangled with your hair, the others playing a saccharine hymn along the keys of your spine, and for the pleasure he gives, you can endure to live with the pain.

the familiar taste of mint on his tongue is far too addictive for you not to indulge. you can’t stop craving for more of it, more of him, and you let your lungs burn.

but soon it mixes with the salt in his tears as his emotions crash on the shore like a tsunami. the seal of your lips is broken by a quiet sob, and in shame, he ends the kiss to bury his face in the crook of your neck.

“____, what do i do? i don’t want to leave.”

your heart shatters into pieces as he sniffles, voice cracking as he musters up the courage to confess to you in between.

“jungkook…”

the words of sincerity feel heavy on his tongue. he’s never been good at this; always relied on his ability to feel. in spite of that, he wants to bare all of himself to you, and he prays that you believe him when he says- “i can’t imagine my life without you anymore.”

“so don’t. you don’t have to think about things like that.” you sigh as you wrap your arms around his shoulders, subtly swaying your bodies to soothe him. “come on, love. why are you crying…? you know where to find me, don’t you?”

you feel him nod before he mumbles pensively. “here… or school, or the restobar.”

“that’s right.” you chuckle. “just don’t lose your key. i’m not going anywhere.”

but he fears it’s his goddamn mind he might just lose. he squeezes his eyes shut, embracing you tighter as he counts the seconds in his head. he will let go after thirty, then perhaps he will stay for another ten.

in another lifetime, jungkook wishes that he could tell you the same.

—

taglist in the reblogs! send an ask/dm if you want to be added (or removed) :D

—

#jungkook #jungkook fluff #jungkook angst #jungkook drabble #jungkook scenario #jungkook imagine #jungkook fic #jungkook fanfic #jungkook one shot #jungkook x reader #jungkook x you #bts fluff #bts reaction #jungkook smut

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jjenthusee · 3 months ago

Text

Empty Plates

Pairing: Jason Todd x Reader

A/N: I SUCCESSFULLY MOVED SO THATS WHY I WAS GONE FOR A HOT MIN but i wanted to give u something while we wait for Racing Hearts pt. 4 :D ENJOY comment if ur comfortable and let me hear ur thoughts \(^~^)/

Tags: hurt/no comfort, angst, sorry yall we gon cry together

Word Count: 1.3k

He left.

Jason was gone.

The apartment was cold. The only outline of him ever being there was the blanket pushed aside, curving around where he used to lay on the bed.

Everything was too good while it lasted.

No matter how many times he left without a word, it felt like it started to hurt less and less the more you didn’t see him next to you.

You’ve always heard how great other people’s relationships were. Too good to be true. It feels like a dream.

And they were right.

It was like a dream.

But Jason was only in your life like a dream.

Only in your bed late in the night.

Willing to be there when the moon rose.

And like a dream, he disappeared. Only like a memory.

They say that hate is worse than love, but the opposite of love was indifference.

And you had no energy to care anymore.

——

So you woke up.

Like any other morning.

Folding your blankets, face blank, heart blank.

You took out loose leaf tea, started prepping breakfast as the water boiled.

Your morning gray.

No music, no color, no Jason.

It was silent, only the sounds of water boiling, popping from the heat.

Your knife hitting the cutting board.

New cooking pans on the stove.

Your body going through the motions without a thought.

You couldn’t bring yourself to think, to feel.

You ate your breakfast, sitting at the table, watching the traffic go by.

Steam hitting your face from the cup as you let it warm your fingers.

No one sitting across from you.

No second mug to mimic yours.

No legs and knees bumping into yours.

You didn’t have any appetite anymore.

You mentally reprimanded yourself for wasting food, but you dumped the rest in the trash, getting nauseous from the sight.

Putting any dirty dishes in the sink.

Chores can be completed later.

You sullenly grabbed some clothes, getting in the shower.

You stood, letting your head feel the water pressure hit your scalp.

You broke.

You slowly fell to the shower floor.

Water running down your face as you sobbed, quietly weeping to yourself.

Your tears mixing with the warm water.

Memories flooded your mind.

“Jaybird, I want to get new cooking pans.” You wrapped your arms around Jason as he cooked.

“Why? These are still in good condition.” Jason continued flipping your small pancakes on the pan.

“But I want a new set that we bought together now that we moved.” You nuzzled your face into his back.

“Hm.” Jason hummed at the warm feeling of you behind him. “We can get a new set today. Something you like.”

You smiled into his shirt.

“Thanks, Jaybird.”

Then you got ready. Fixing your hair, brushing your teeth.

Ready for work.

Like nothing happened.

——

It had been two weeks.

No sign of Jason.

No messages. No calls. Nothing.

You rarely ate. You called in sick from work after you were wearing yourself out.

Reaching your limit of filling your time with anything, but Jason.

Forgetting to brush your teeth, no longer changing out of your lounging clothes, staring out the window from the table.

You did drink water, your stomach not tolerating anything else.

No music playing anymore.

It was quiet.

Only the upstairs neighbor’s footsteps filling the silence.

Your face was pale, it felt like your cheeks were hallowing out.

Eyes tired.

You refused to let yourself reach out to Jason first. Countless times before you had called, texted, done something.

But you didn’t wanna do any of it anymore.

No longer following Jason.

You went to the bathroom. Slowly having the energy to walk.

Shutting yourself in there, the walls feeling small, you blankly watched the mirror.

An unrecognizable expression that only visited during the bad times.

You sighed, splashing water on your face.

The floor creaking as you walked back.

When you made it back to the table, you sat down in the same chair, looking at the same cup, watching the same window.

Not acknowledging anything.

“You’re not going to say anything?” Jason said. Sitting across from you. He sounded confused, his expression probably wasn’t any different, but you didn’t know.

You didn’t bother looking.

You almost flinched from his voice. You almost convinced yourself he was an illusion.

“Yell?” He questioned. “Anything?”

You stayed quiet. Staring out the window.

When was the last time you took a walk?

“Please say something.” Jason pleaded in front of you.

It was too hot these days, but if it was cloudy like today, maybe you should start walking soon.

You still stared out the window, taking a sip from your cup.

“Nothing?” Jason’s frustration peaking into his voice.

You needed some exercise.

“Sweetheart.” Jason firmly impeded your thoughts.

You sighed.

“I’m tired.” You softly spoke.

“I came back because I was worried.” Jason explained.

Your frustration building. Trying to balance out your nonchalance and anger.

“It’s so noisy.” You flatly said to yourself.

“But things were supposed to be okay, I made sure—“

You angrily set the cup down, water splashing from the impact. The cup cracking, water leaking onto the table.

You continued to look out the window. Not acknowledging the mess around your hand.

“I don’t know if you realize this, Jason, but my world stopped the day you left. I stayed up countless nights worried if there was something wrong, if you were hurt, if I did something wrong—“

“Of course not—“

“I know! I realized that I did my best. I stupidly loved you and I didn’t know what to do when you left me. Again.” You watched two kids bike on the sidewalk. Laughing in their joy.

“I was scared!” Jason stammered, voice straining. “I didn’t know what else to do, so I left!”

“Then what are you so afraid of?!” You closed your eyes, lowering your head into your other hand. The last thing you saw was one of the boys falling, scraping his knee on the pavement.

“It’s because you made me realize that I can be more!” His voice rose. “I realized that maybe I don’t just want to be Red Hood!” Jason paced, recklessly brushing his fingers through his hair.

You froze, listening to his ramble.

“I want to be more. I want to have something other than Red Hood and it’s scaring the absolute shit out of me.” Jason paused, taking his hands out of his hair.

Jason hunched forward trying to make himself as small as possible. Tightly wrapping his arms around himself.

“—the Red Hood helmet.” Jason whispered, so soft you barely heard the end of his sentence.

“What?” You breathlessly responded, keeping your head down, unconsciously mimicking Jason’s soft voice.

“For the first time, I wanted to take off the Red Hood helmet.” He meekly looked at you. His eyebrows crushed together in a horrified look like he, himself, was just realizing this fact.

Your chest stung. You’ve never heard Jason so terrified, trembling in fear, voice shaky.

“I don’t know if I can take off my helmet. I can’t be anything without it.” Jason admitted.

“So you decided to leave, to never say anything, to let me continue my life like you weren’t there?” You harshly told him.

“Yeah, I ran, but I checked on you. Making sure nothing happened as you walked to work, but every day I saw you looking worse.” Jason moved again, but you didn’t want to lift your head. “It never got better, so…I came back. Dammit, look at me!”

He slammed his fits on the table, the cup shaking in your harsh grip.

You lift your head. Staring straight into his eyes.

Jason looked terrified. Angry, yes, but absolutely terrified.

It almost made you laugh from disbelief.

“Whether you take off the helmet or not…” You hesitated. This was it. No more caving in. You leveled your voice, firm and harsh. “Doesn’t matter to me anymore.”

Silence.

The cup shattering in your hands, cutting your hand.

It stung.

Neither of you looking down first, until Jason broke eye contact.

He reached for your injured hand.

You got up, avoiding his touch, walking to the cabinet underneath the kitchen sink. Grabbing the first-aid kit.

Dripping small drops of blood on the floor.

When you turned around, you flinched.

He was gone.

Again.

Like another dream.

#jason todd x reader #jason todd #red hood #writing

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evilminji · 6 months ago

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So, I was reading some Percy Jackson fic stuff today and....I had a Danny Phantom thought.

And thought you might vibe with this at least a little bit.

Anyways, you know how the Phandom frequently has Clockwork be Kronos, or at least a piece of Kronos that regrets his actions towards his children?

Now, Danny being adopted by Clockwork. Who keeps bringing him little pieces of clouds and stars to bake into cookies and turn into marshmallows, and always has a pitcher of fresh rainwater for Danny to drink from if he feels thirsty.

Danny is very much vibing with this. He gets to Eat Space!!! The Sky is a part of him now, and he can FEEL that final frontier so very much at hand. He can close his eyes and See.

Earth below him, kept safe and warm under him, like a mother duck with an egg.

Looking up, Space is right there. It rolls against his back like a friend. The Sun bears down on him, as if bearing witness to him.

And then Danny...Dreams. He dreams of a Time that is not his own, but yet is, all at once.

Time's sickle takes him apart. Methodically, but as painless as he can make it. Kronos his son weeps, even as he and his siblings his babies reach for their Father's pieces and carefully, lovingly, place each and every single one amidst the sky.

"Forgive us" they say.

"We did as we must. We could not let you continue" they weep all over again.

"We will take care of the world you leave behind" They promise.

And so, Ouranos watches. Even with the weight if a Prophecy, and Fate upon them, his children would forever love their parents. He could've been stuck underneath the ground, where that detestable Tartarus was locked away.

But every child of Sky and Earth took the care to place their Father amidst his element. His pieces became the very Sky itself.

And then Danny wakes up.

His hands shake, and his everything aches with fleeting memories. The Infinite Realms are home to dead Gods and Titans. Who's to say, the Father of the Titans could not be spawned with it's embrace?

The next time Clockwork hugs him, Danny knows. His very skin sings with love and joy, that at least one of his children did not forget him.

But no matter how many pieces of the Sky he may eat, no matter how many memories of Old Man Ouranos Danny regains, that has passed.

Time greets the Sky once again, Father and Son reunited, but this go around it falls upon Kronos to be the Father, and Ouranos the Beloved Son.

In the back of his head Danny hears a song. One that Ouranos and Gaea used to sing for their little ones. He knows where the other half of the melody is. Soon, they shall be reunited.

(Hope that's at least halfway coherent? I know some people are gonna be mad that I'm making Danny more than Just Some Guy again, but is that not the spirit of fanfics? To take your specialest blorbo and Put Them in Situations?

Anyways, TL,DR: Danny's Space Obsession is in part his previous life as Ouranos, the Sky, Father of the Titans. Kronos, as Clockwork, is raising his Father's reincarnation and returning his pieces to him, now that pesky Prophecies aren't in the way.

They decide that letting Clocky be the Dad this time around suits them just fine.

Danny hears the song he and his wife, the Earth used to sing, and will answer her call soon, ((who Gaea is is up to interpretation, although I the show itself practically tosses Sam into this role)) once he's NOT a mess from the split memories)

Oh THIS? This is lovely! I DO vibe. Honestly can't think of anything I want to add, but I SURE DO WANNA MAKE SURE EVERYONE SEES IT.

Look at it! o/ *smacks it on your dashboard*

#NOT minji's writing #the-winds-of-kushala writing #dp x pjo

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kneelingshadowsalome · 10 months ago

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The other day I was reading about the “mail-order brides” during the Gold Fever/Gold Rush in USA. Men ordered/purchased a wife via mail, and one of the many reasons some of them did that was because of loneliness, and I couldn’t help but think “yep, that would be König”. Just imagine him living alone in his farm or ranch, he only goes to town once a month to buy essential supplies, hides his face, and barely socializes with folks. But deep inside he is just a lonely man who desires a family, and a woman to call his (and one who can help him with his… needs) But he is socially inept, so he takes the easy route and orders himself a wife, that way he doesn’t have to bother with interacting with other people and gets himself a pretty wife

Oh my god 💞

König wanting to wed and bed her the minute she arrives by train... She thought he would court her for a while before they marry, she thought they would do this decently, that they would get to know each other first, she’d rent an apartment from the small town and then decide if she wanted to live with him…

But he says everything’s settled, he already took care of everything, they’re getting married today and spend their wedding night in the saloon before leaving for his settlement tomorrow.

She’s too bewildered to even speak, so it's no wonder she gets herded to the altar right away, a pretty, meek little bride is just what König ordered! Gets wed to this giant hulking gold digger while still wearing her traveling clothes, the priest only looks drunk and bored as she peeps her vows. The man she's now wed to looks down at her with unbridled affection and curiosity, but soon enough, she catches him eyeing her waistline, her bust, the corset she wears feeling tighter still by his indecent stare.

He's far from a gentleman, and dresses like a weather-worn cowboy, and she suspected as much from the way he wrote and how unpolished his handwriting was. But at least he seems kind. If anything, he's smitten that she’s not some old hag who deceived him by claiming to be an unmarried young lady, that she is everything and more he wished for based on the few letters they exchanged.

The wedding is over in a few minutes, and there’s no coffee and cake, no party under some big tree, no relatives or friends to congratulate her on her wedding day. There’s only this huge, intimidating man who looks at her like she just dropped down from heavens, his eyes slowly sparking aflame with both softness and lust.

He takes her to the saloon to eat, and then she finds herself in a greasy little room upstairs, changing into her white nightgown, getting ready to sleep and only sleep, but her nightmare of a day is not over yet. Her hand flies over her mouth, she nearly screams as she turns around and finds this horrible man of lowly European descent thoroughly naked behind her.

She’s in so much trouble, that much was certain from the minute he saw this man, but seeing his… equipment in the dim candle light of the old saloon is too much after everything she's gone through. She's verily about to faint.

It’s just her luck to dream of adventures and a happy, exciting new life and then find herself thrown into the arms of some barbaric, foreign giant... He said he’s looking for a companion in life and hinted at being a little lonely, but men who wish to court a lady don’t do it like this: by dragging them to the altar and then presenting their cocks to them before even two hours have passed!

The rowdy noise of cancan downstairs is a filthy backdrop to seeing a naked man for the first time in her life, and she never knew male parts could be so... big. Or jumpy. Or leaky... This man is clearly serious about this commitment, and thinks there’s no need to get to know each other, she’s his wife now and they need to consummate the marriage right away.

He’s breathing heavily while grabbing that weeping weapon in his fist, telling her she’s more beautiful than he ever even imagined. He pleasures himself slowly while watching her try to cover herself in her thin, faintly translucent gown, and she still can't find any words – the man is behaving like a scoundrel or a highwayman, not at all like the sharp dressed, eloquent gentlemen she's grown used to in the city. The slick sounds of lewd fapping are accompanied by moans of how she’s the answer to all his prayers, and her hair stands on end, she feels like she’s walking on tar here in the distant frontier with nothing but greedy men and drunken brothel keepers around her, now face to face with a giant, throbbing cock out of all things...

She coldly orders him to sleep on the floor while she takes the bed – she’s not letting this nasty, hairy beast near her anytime soon, not when she still has her wits about her. Defeated when she won’t let him “consummate their love” tonight, the man withdraws to sleep on the floor with a sullen groan and a long sigh.

She never sleeps a wink that night in fear of finding him by her side, groping his way through her dress, but to her surprise this man only snores on the floor as if he's used to sleeping there.

Civilization is far away when he leads her to his shack the next day and shows her the first small specks of gold he has found, apologizing for the state of his abode so unkempt and unclean. She has to give it to him that he's indeed kind and doesn’t want to make her suffer unduly, because the table and the bench are wiped in a hurry before she sits down, as if she’s a queen visiting a humble subject. He makes her a bath next to the fire and washes in the water after her, giving her flirty, promising smiles throughout the whole splashy ordeal.

Before long, the giant cock is presented to her again as the man excitedly waits for permission to take her, telling her he has never seen anything like her, that she makes his heart run wild.

The only thing running wild in her sour opinion is his cock, bouncing up and down from the need to be inside her, nearly leaking seed on the floor she suspects she has to wash and scrub tomorrow anyhow as his wife. Evening after evening, she rejects his advances, but after a week or two, her will breaks.

She tells herself it’s only out of pity that she lets him finally crawl over her and lift her gown, that it’s only to stop the man from spiraling into madness that she allows him to test how nicely that thick, leaky cock glides through her folds.

“You’re wet, Sonnenschein,” he pants with happy excitement when she notices her swollen, sloppy state, then plunges his cock deep into his wet little prize with a filthy moan. He tells her she’s tight and hot, and takes her like she’s some kind of an angelic whore, falls panting all over her breasts when he’s sated and done, says that she’s his salvation and that he’ll do anything to make her feel at home here.

She feels exactly like a desperate mail order bride, lured here with the promise of a good life and gold, but when she starts to wait for him to come home instead of dreading the end of the day, that's when her hell truly begins.

It just won't do to start wanting him, to trick her heart to be content with whatever this is. To enjoy his "love" would be even more shameful than anything else so far. The truth of the matter is that she's tormented by a lustful, wild man who takes her on her knees or on her stomach like an animal while moaning about how tight she is, how soft she is, how he can’t concentrate at work because of her.

But when he groans that he loves her just before he cums, she feels a distant sting near her heart, a burst of a small bonfire somewhere in her gut from his words. Far from romantic, but so authentic and pure they’re ripped out of him with a pathetic, cry-like moan.

And just when her heart is about to turn and grow full with softness, he barges in and takes her standing, needy after work, deciding that she looks far too alluring while stirring the stew over the fire. His sunshine of a wife waiting for him with warm food and a soft little cunt, it's exactly like it was always meant to be in his dreams... He’s kind and attentive, but doesn’t know a thing about ladies and that they’re not supposed to be taken by the fire like this, but the dramatic pout on her lips turns into a helpless grimace before this animal has given her three full thrusts.

And it’s only by accident, she tells herself, that it happens. It’s only a coincidence that she finds herself short of breath and shivering, then crying with pleasure from the way his cock sails inside her, hasty and needy as if she’s nothing but a momentary relief for this man.

But she knows she’s far from that. He always stays after the hurried lovemaking – if you could call it that – swallows and tells her things that are supposed to be sweet, perhaps. He whispers loving nonsense in her ear with a stupid, quivering voice, tells her that she’s so tight he’s about to lose his mind. That she brightens up his life and makes this shack a home, a palace, even. That he wants to give her children and grow old together.

She prays the heavens to save her from such a future, but when she accidentally comes with his cock inside her, the man breaks down entirely. Repeats the awful, pathetic “I love you” until he comes, too, and sounds like a man who's getting his sould ripped apart from his bones. It’s sinful lunacy what he’s doing to her in that shack, and dares to sprinkle it with love out of all things, and she doesn’t know if she hates him, or if she loves him too.

Annulling this marriage is nearly impossible, and the sooner he gets her pregnant, the sooner she’s even more trapped, just like the poor rabbits this man lures into the snares placed around the shack. He spends every little speck of gold to buy her silks, satins and gowns, proper woolen scarves and soft little leather shoes, gives her a gentle kiss every morning before he leaves to wash gold. Every evening after meal, he praises her cooking skills and then takes her on the creaking old bed like she's a common whore. The silly, girlish dreams of being whisked away by a mysterious, romantic gentleman are somewhere far away when this giant spills his seed inside her with a thick, arduous groan, then proceeds to cover her in kisses too sweaty and hot.

“I know you don’t love me,” he whispers between the one-sided sucking and nibbling that’s about to make her cry. “But I will make you happy... I swear it, on my life.”

She can only stare at the ceiling, filled with the dancing flames of the fire as he falls asleep with his cock still inside her, the soft snore on her breasts both happy and sad.

#könig x you #könig smut #könig x reader #mail order bride #gold rush au #könig angst

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spitgobbler · 1 year ago

Text

Sweet Treat

I’m not a big halloween fan but I wanted to post at least something so here’s a smutty fic of fucking fboy leon at a Halloween party <3

pairing: fboy!leon kennedy x fem!reader

tags: fucking in Halloween costumes, handcuffs, dirty talk, pussy spanking, p in v, nipple play, fake fangs, oral (m receiving), dirty talk, smut with a tiny bit of plot, unprotected sex

"Aren't you glad I forced you to come? You look smoking." Your best friend giggled, loud music blaring in her home. Her parents home actually, but they were out of town.

You stood there clad in a sexy black corset, a black mini skirt, and fishnets. Oh, and don't forget the fake fangs she forced you to apply to complete your vampire costume.

You look at her blankly, "Yeah, totally.."

It's not that you hated Halloween, the opposite actually, it was more so that you hated parties. The migraine inducing music, the over abundance of intoxicated people… no thanks.

Your best friend huffs with a eye roll. "See? This is why I said you need some dick. Get that attitude fucked out of you"

Grinning slyly, she pats your shoulder. "Let me get out of your hair."

When she walks away in her skimpy little nurse costume, confusion is visible on your features. What was she up to now?

A muscular arm cages you in before you could follow her, causing you to step back, pressing your back against the wall in surprise. Eyes trailing up to see who it was, you came face to face to a pretty blonde man in a cop costume with too many buttons undone than what would be appropriate for an actual cop.

“You’re so pretty that I’d let you suck me dry,” He flirts, one of his hands tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. “In more ways than one.”

Oh. That’s why your bestie fled.

The attention makes your thighs clench, he was coming onto you so strongly that you couldn’t help but be swept up in his advances.

“In more ways than one? These aren’t real fangs, you know.” You voice, trying to reject him at first despite how your body was beginning to react to his close proximity.

Leon just laughs, his thumb brushing against your bottom lip before tugging it down to see your fake fangs. “Come on, it’s Halloween. I think I need to take you up to the station for being such a downer.”

He grabs your hand with a surprisingly gentle grasp and begins to lead you past the drink table and up the decorated staircase. “Don’t worry, sweetheart, Officer Leon Kennedy will take good care of you.”

You find yourself in some spare room, pressed up against the locked door. Leon’s warm hands trailing up your thighs teasingly as his lips press plush against yours.

A small moan bubbles from your throat when he pressed his tongue against yours, his thumbs rubbing circles into the flesh of your hips beneath your miniskirt to show his appreciation for your cute little sounds.

His touch is more tantalizing than you’d like to admit, your pussy growing wetter with each touch, kiss, and caress.

You whimper when his fingers tease you through your damp panties, grasping for his biceps that bulge against his cop costume.

“Ah, fuck, Leon.” Brows furrowing at his touch and your hips twitch.

Leon continues to drag his fingers against your panties, the miniskirt you wore bunched up at your hips.

“I make you feel good, don’t I?” He breathes out, lips curling up pleased. “I know I do.”

Fingers nudging at your throbbing clit and rubbing messy, harsh circles against the sensitive bud, it has your breath stolen and jaw slack.

You whine out for him, “Please,”

Your pleas have him kissing your cheek sweetly as he brings you closer and closer to release, that warm pool of arousal building in your core. Those lacy panties separating his fingers from your weeping cunt adds to the mind numbing pleasure.

Mewling and whining, your hips rock to grind your clit against his fingers. “Close, m’so close.”

“Won’t you cum for me? Come on, I know you can.” Leon coos, slipping his digits through a opening in your fishnets and beneath your ruined garment with slight pressure that makes your legs go weak.

You gasp, moaning lewdly as your composure breaks completely. Pussy clenching around nothing as you fall over the edge and gush all over his fingers. Leon moans lowly at the sight, wet sounds squelching when he slows his ministrations to help you through your orgasm.

Pulling his fingers away, your mind is mushy when he eases you down onto your weak knees in front of him. When he fiddles with his belt, you look up at him with lust glazed eyes. Hands resting on his thighs and a fogged mind from your orgasm.

That lewd expression of yours makes his cock kick in his hand, taking a deep shuddering breath as his arousal flares.

Leon’s hand caresses your hair while his other slowly pumps his cock, a pearl of pre dribbling out. “I know you know what to do,“

It doesn’t even phase you that he’s hinting at your bloodsucking vampire costume, more intrigued by his taste and so you obey him. Lips pressing against his needy tip before your tongue slips out to lap at his slit, causing a long deep groan to spill from his lips.

“That’s it,” he praises, brushing your hair out of your face once more with a surprisingly intimate touch.

Licking at the vein on the underside, Leon grips your hair slightly as he shudders. His pretty blues gazing down into your eyes half lidded, as you tease his leaking cock.

His hand presses down on your head, wanting you to take him in your pretty mouth. “Watch the fangs, sweetheart.”

Relaxing your jaw, you slide his cock into your warm wet mouth and he whimpers from the suction.

“Shit, yes…” One of his hands press against the door for support, eyebrows knitting together from the feel of your mouth and tongue moving against his needy cock with every bob you make.

“Good fucking girl,” he hissed out, using the last bit of restraint left in him, Leon pulls you off him with a huff. “Spit on it, spit on my fucking cock.”

Wet saliva clicks in your mouth before pooling on your tongue. You spit a fat glob onto his cock which sends a shiver down his spine.

Leon’s cop uniform is straining at the buttons with how hard he’s breathing. “Stroke it,” He commands breathlessly.

“Like this?” You murmur, soft hand smearing your saliva over his dick along with his pre cum that oozes profusely from his flushed tip. Eyes looking up prettily at him for any sign of approval.

In which he nods, hands moving to help you up. Leon’s hands slip behind your back and begins to unravel the lace that held your corset snuggly to your form. “Let’s get you out of this, yeah?”

You nod appreciatively when your torso is freed from the confines of the corset, “Thank you.”

A groan falls from Leon’s plush lips at the sight of your tits, the corset forgotten at the floor. Leon picks you up with ease and presses you into the mattress.

Placing soft wet kisses to the flesh of your breasts with a hum. Your cheeks flush from the attention to them, it was something you felt that previous hookups tend to forget but Leon most certainly didn’t.

“Ah… mmh,” Gasping softly from the teasing kisses to your breasts.

Leon grins softly, “You like that? Fuck, you’re so pretty, so fuckin’ gorgeous.”

He flicks his tongue against your nipple while his hand teases and pinches the other causing them to pebble up and harden.

A whimper rips from your throat when Leon pressed his tongue flat against it, before his lips circle around it and sucking gently.

You squirm beneath him, “O-Oh, s’good.”

The look he gives looks you is so proud and he sucks on your breasts eagerly. “Mm…”

“Don’t wanna forget this one, now do we?” His attention is now on your other breast, licking and sucking all over the sensitive and soft flesh.

It makes you whine, writhing and moaning from all of it and you swear you’ll go crazy if he doesn’t do something more.

Leon paints your chest in pretty shades of rouge and it doesn’t even cross your mind that once the two of you are done fooling around that everyone will see his marks all over your breasts because of your corset.

“L-Leon, come on already.” You whine.

You hear a metallic jangle and you’re flipped over, face down ass up. His strong hands pull your arms behind your back and the handcuffs he had for his costume are secured onto your wrists.

“Gonna have to cuff you for being so impatient, baby.” Leon pushed your miniskirt back over your hips and his hands clench at your fishnets, forearms and biceps tensing as he rips a hole in them right at your crotch.

The sound felt so lewd, sending even more waves of arousal to your cunt. Your panties were already no good and they just clung to your pretty pussy to the point where you wanted him to rip those too.

Leon settles behind you, moving your panties to the side to reveal your needy pussy. He groans right in your ear when he rubs the tip of his cock between your wet folds, a moan of your own spilling against the mattress.

“So fucking naughty, letting a cop touch you like this.” He murmurs to you, slowly easing just the tip in and he teases you with it. Gently and slowly, pressing his tip just barely in repeatedly, it leaves you wanting more.

You press your ass back into his pelvis, trying to get more of him inside and he chuckles breathily. “Quit playing around, want you to put it in.”

Leon lets a hand slip around your hip, spanking your clit just a bit. You jump and choke out a whimper, desperation doubling when he spanks it again.

“I always give it to pretty girls like you, don’t worry.” He reassures with one more spank to your clit, making it throb.

Mounting you from behind Leon eases his fat cock into your wet hole, hands writhing in the cuffs from the pleasurable stretch.

Both of you moan and being the nice guy he is, Leon gives you a moment to adjust before fully sheathing himself inside of you.

The feeling in your cunt is so full, absolutely stuffed with his thick cock and it has you mewling already. Breathing all heavy and cheeks warmed with arousal and desire.

“Please, let me move,” Leon begs quietly, grasping at your hips. “…please.”

It’s like he’s become desperate once he’s inside your warm wet pussy, walls snug around every inch of him. He wants, needs, to feel you cum around his cock.

You nod, giving him permission to do as he pleases and Leon whimpers, rocking his hips into you slowly before increasing his pace. His tip smushing and pressing into your cervix, Leon grabs at your hands that were cuffed behind your back and uses them as leverage to fuck into your tight cunt harder.

Eyes rolling back, Leon groans, “F-Fuck, gonna make you my girl with a pussy like this.”

“Yes… yes!” Back arching like a cat as he dicks you down so good you might have to come back for more.

His pelvis smacks into your ass with each harsh thrust, sharp slaps of sticky skin ringing out that’s drowned out by the Halloween music downstairs. You writhe beneath him, his cock making you tremble and moan out into the sheets.

The strain in your cuffed arms burns but oh god, the way it’s blurs with the pleasure of Leon’s cock sliding in and out of you, reducing you into a needy, whiny, whore.

It was so sloppy, the wettest nastiest sounds squelching from your weeping pussy and he just fucks you even more eagerly with the lubrication of both of yours arousal.

“Wanna cum, Leon…” you slur out, drooling as your eyes flutter back. Mind all mushy that it can only process the way Leon abuses your cunt in such a toe curling manner .

He huffs, letting go of your cuffed arms to reach around your hip like previously, he spanks your clit and moans when it causes you the clench around his cock with a strangling grip.

“Cum. Cum for me, god, need to feel it,” Leon pleas, rubbing your clit in frantic messy circles when he feels his own climax bubbling. “Cum on my cock, pretty girl.”

With a few more thrusts accompanied by his fingers busy with your swollen clit, you feel that familiar warmth before it spreads throughout your body.

“A-Ah, ah, m’cumming!” Your orgasm crashing against your senses, cumming all over his cock which triggers his own release.

Warm seed spilling into your tight little pussy with a whimper that falls into a long moan, Leon’s thrusts faltering as his chest heaves and his cheeks flush. Pretty blue eyes clenched shut and brows furrowed as he takes in the waves of his release.

After a few moments, he eases out of you and removes the fake cuffs, helping you lay comfortably on the bed before flopping next to you. Both of you breathing heavily as your mind begins to solidify out of that mushy state Leon put you in.

Your eyes blearily look at the blonde when he cuddles up to you so sweetly, which is a change of pace from what just occurred.

“I know things are a bit reversed, but,” Leon gulps in some air as he comes down from his high and he looks a tad bit nervous. “Why don’t you let me take you on a date?”

As you walk hand in hand with Leon, strolling through the park and enjoying the ice cream he bought you, you felt a vibration in your purse.

“Can you hold this?” You ask, extending your cone.

He smiles and nods, “Anything for you, pretty girl.” Letting go of your hand, he takes it from you and sneaks a quick taste of the flavor you got with a pleased hum.

Fumbling and rummaging in your purse, you finally grasp your phone and check the message your bestie had sent you.

‘I know I said you needed some dick but why my parents room?’ It read.

You giggle loudly, shooting her a quick, ‘Oops!’ before slipping your phone back into your purse and resuming your date with Leon.

#leon kennedy smut #leon kennedy x fem reader #leon kennedy x fem!reader #leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy #leon kennedy x reader smut #leon kennedy x fem!reader smut #fboy!leon #fboy!leonkennedy #fboy!leon x reader #fuckboy Leon Kennedy

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dollfacefantasy · 10 months ago

Note

okayokay so i was hoping you could write something for leon x chubby!reader? i swear there is not enough of that genre out there- i was thinking the reader could be feeling insecure about their weight and leon comes home to them upset on the couch :(( after some comforting and fluffy stuff he CARRIES reader to the bedroom. (as a chubby girl i fold for anyone who can carry me lol) any leon would work for this hes so precious i just wanna keep him safe and sound in my pocket ☹️🫶 anyways i tried to keep this broad enough for you to use your imagination,, i love you writing!! <3

pairing: leon kennedy x fem!chubby!reader

summary: you're feeling down about yourself and leon just can't have that

cw: nsfw (18+), smut, p in v, oral (f receiving), face sitting, features reader's weight insecurities and people being critical of her weight

word count: 3.6k

a/n: thanks for the request! i hope it was what you were looking for :) reblogs and comments are appreciated <3

You didn’t expect today to be a good day, but now, in your position curled up and wallowing on the couch, you wish your intuition had been wrong. You lie on the plush cushions, face pressed against a pillow, limbs retracted and held close to your body. You weren’t crying, but it felt like every couple minutes your eyes began to sting with the threat of tears falling. You tried telling yourself to get a grip, to grow up and just move on. This shouldn’t still hurt you so much.

But, like always, beating yourself up didn’t do anything to improve your emotional state. You continue half-paying attention to the movie you put on. It was your comfort movie, one that you put on whenever you were down. Right now though, it wasn’t helping. Your partially unfocused eyes fixate on the screen and watch the lead actress move about. She looks good constantly, her outfits flatter her figure and flaunt her features. All you’re left thinking is why can’t I look like that?

The story playing out in front of you has a bitter taste this time and only serves to remind you of all the words you heard today. Whenever you were around your family for extended periods of time, the conversation moved in this direction. One moment you’d be laughing over a funny story or reminiscing about the past, and then the next, you were being recommended diets or invited to come to the gym in what was your relatives' version of subtlety. And no matter how many times it happened, it still hurt like it was the first.

Sometimes, Leon could spare you from it. When he came around, all the attention would be on him, a newcomer who they didn’t know so much about. But on days like today, when you had to endure their company on your own, it was bound to happen.

Leon didn’t even know he was protecting you with his mere presence. You’d never told him about the passive aggressive remarks or the whispers across the room. He had enough problems of his own to deal with. You didn’t want to pile on by weeping to him, sounding like some shitty after school special. So instead, you resigned yourself to this, sinking into your self-pity until you were distracted enough to forget about it until next time.

Not much more of your movie plays before you hear the familiar sound of Leon’s keys outside the door. He comes in, offering you a small smile as he takes his jacket off and kicks his boots aside. You straighten up a little bit but not too much. Normally, you’d try to conceal all of this from him, but you were just too worn down today.

He’d been out dealing with some last minute things for work before he got a little time off for a couple weeks. He walks behind the couch to the kitchen, taking a moment to ruffle your hair as he goes by.

“How’s your day going? You had to go to that thing with your family right? Everything went well?” he asks from the kitchen.

“Yeah. It was fine,” you respond simply, “How’s yours? Get everything done?”

“Mhm,” he hums. You couldn’t see him, but he was watching you. He could tell something was up. He takes a few swigs of his drink before heading to the couch and sitting down with you. Glancing over at you a few times, he observes the way you’re watching the movie. The slight frown on your lips, your uninterested eyes.

“Hey, c’mere,” he says gently, “I missed you today.”

With a gentle tug of your wrist, he guides you across the couch. You slide over on the seats so you’re leaned against his side looking up at him. Like always, you put your head on his chest, his fingers find their way to your head and stroke it lovingly. His other hand makes his way to your side, tenderly squeezing your waist, and in-turn, gripping the plump flesh there. You loved the touch, but right now, it further amplifies your self-consciousness. You’re painfully aware of the shape of your body at this moment.

“You feeling ok?” he asks softly.

You simply nod in response, but it’s like he can see the gears turning in your head, cranking out one bad thought after the next.

“C’mon, tell me what’s wrong, pretty girl,” he coos, dragging his thumb over your cheek.

He called you that a fair amount, but in your current state, it just grated on your already frayed nerve endings. You swallow around the lump forming in your throat. “Nothing’s wrong,” you reply.

Your answer doesn’t satisfy him though. He’s not convinced. Any other day you’d talk his ear off about how you couldn’t believe someone did this or how there was no way another said that. You’d be all over him too. It seemed like you could never get enough of kissing his face or nuzzling his neck. But today you were quiet. Quiet and stiff.

“I know it’s something, baby. You can tell me. There’s nothing in this world I’d judge you for,” he murmurs before kissing your forehead.

You really wanna tell him. It shouldn’t be hard. The rational part of your brain knew all he’d do was make you feel better. Give you some smooches, whisper compliments against your skin as his hands rub you all over. The other part of you though, the irrational, scared girl hidden inside, kept you anxious. She kept you believing that this was something you had to bear alone. Even the fact that you were insecure in the first place was embarrassing.

In a move that made you feel overwhelmingly pathetic, you just shake your head. You push your face against his chest and remain silent. The steady rhythm of his heartbeat helps a little to calm you, but you still can’t force the words out.

He only grows more concerned as you shy away. He thought you just didn’t feel good, maybe a little gloomy, maybe had a headache. But this was clearly something deeper. His arms tighten around you, rubbing your back.

“Honey, what’s wrong?” he asks, “Talk to me. Breaks my heart seeing you sad.”

You can’t even stop the hot tears from sliding down your cheeks at this point. Sucking in a harsh breath, you cling to him. He sees you’re crying even though you’re quiet. He whispers a few more reassurances, trying to coax you into sharing what’s the matter.

“It’s just… do you… are you… are you attracted to me?” you choke out. Even the way you phrase it makes you wanna curl up and die.

He’s stunned. Honestly, that’s the last question he expected to hear between your soft gasps.

“What? Of course I am,” he says without a second thought.

“Are you sure? You don’t have to lie to me. I can take it,” you sob, keeping your face shielded against the muscles beneath his shirt.

“Yes I’m sure. Hey, hey,” he says. His tone drips with worry as he guides your face to look up at him, “Where’s this coming from, baby? Did I say something that made you think that?”

“N-no,” you cry, tears wetting his shirt by this point, “I- it’s just… I don’t…”

“Take a deep breath. It’s ok,” he whispers, “I just wanna know why you would be worried about that, babe?”

You follow his advice and get yourself calm enough that you can speak, but again, you can’t actually get the syllables out without losing it.

“Cause just look at me,” you weep and gesture at your figure.

“I am looking at you,” he says, still not understanding the issue.

“You’re telling me this is what you want?” you cry. You say it almost like an accusation. Like the word liar is on the tip of your tongue.

“Yes? I can’t help if you don’t tell me what the problem is, and I’m really not seeing a problem,” he says. He’s such a sweetheart. Doesn’t get defensive with you, doesn’t tell you to cool it. He’s understanding as ever, and it just makes you feel worse about your blow up.

“You really like me even though I’m chubby?” you finally blurt out.

His eyes soften when the words reach his ears.

“Oh, baby…” he coos and pulls you onto his lap. It makes you uncomfortable at first, being on top of him, but he doesn’t even react to your weight on his thighs. “I love your body, every single part of it. You never need to worry about that.”

After that, everything comes spilling out. Every derogatory comment, every side eye, every single condescending smile. You ramble on about all of it through your tears. He nods along and shakes his head in disapproval when you tell him about your cousin’s birthday party when someone asked if you really needed a slice of cake. Or Christmas when your aunt cornered you to sell you on these diet shots her doctor prescribed her and how she could get you some easily.

“I never want you worrying about that kind of shit,” he tells you once it seems like your rant has come to a conclusion.

You sniffle and nod, burrowing into him further.

“I mean it. Cause for one, you're more than that. You’re sweet, so fucking sweet. You’re smart, funny. You’re you, and that’s what I love. I love talking to you, can’t get enough of your voice,” he murmurs as he kisses your cheeks and temple, “I notice all that before I’d ever notice whatever bullshit they tell you to feel bad about.”

“I know,” you whimper. Before you can say anything else, he keeps going.

“And you asked me if I’m attracted to you? That’s an easy answer, babe,” he says. He lifts you a little, shifting you on his lap so you’re straddling him. His hands squeeze your hips and rub up and down your sides. “You don’t understand how attracted to you I am. I cum harder jerking off while I think of you than I ever did fucking anyone else.”

You gaze down at him. Heat rushes through you at that admission. Your crying has come to a halt now as you hang onto each word of his.

“I mean, really honey? What wouldn’t I like?” he purrs, “You seriously believe I wouldn’t love how soft you are? All the curves I feel press up against me when you give me a hug or you wanna cuddle?”

His hands run along your skin with more teasing now.

“Your tummy? Fucking love it. Love how you get all squirmy when I rub and kiss it how you like,” he breathes as he tugs you forward so your front is against his. He kisses your lips softly. “Love feeling those round cheeks covered in tears and drool when you start losing it for me. And your thighs? I can’t get enough of ‘em clamped around my head when I’m eating your pussy. Fucking things squeeze me till I think I’m dreaming.”

Well, didn’t you feel stupid now. As Leon continues preaching about your body like he’s referencing a divine being, his hands roam your body, sending shivers up your spine. His fingers knead the flesh of your ass before coasting around to your tits and taking handfuls of them.

“I can only say so much, dolly. Think you should just let me show you how much I love it,” he breathes against the shell of your ear.

“Ok,” you agree. So simple it draws a small chuckle from his throat.

Without the slightest hesitation, he stands up, taking you with him. He hoists you up and doesn’t even let the smallest grunt slip from between his lips. You let out a tiny squeak which turns his chuckle to a full laugh.

“Leon…” you start with uncertainty.

“Nope. None of that,” he shushes you.

He boosts you up, getting you comfortable in his arms. Your legs lock around his waist just as he starts to move. Padding away from the couch, he takes you to the bedroom. He’s not straining himself at all. He glides through the doorway with you cradled against his abdomen like this was the most natural thing in the world. In all honesty, you weren’t too much for him in the slightest. All the training he did for his government job had prepared him to carry more weight than you.

He sets you down on the bed, crawling on top of you. His lips meet yours as he leans down and connects the two of you in a series of wet kisses. His hands glide beneath the fabric of your shirt, feeling your skin and the warmth of your body. After making out for a while more, he pulls back. He kneels above you, breathing heavily as he peels off his shirt. His toned abs and chest come into view. You’re still taking in the sight of him as he starts undoing his pants. To match him, you slowly begin to remove your own attire.

Soon enough, the both of you are nude. You expect him to get back on top of you and drill you into the bed until you’re seeing stars. But instead, he flops down next to you on the mattress, looking at you with a lopsided smile.

“You want me on top?” you ask as you begin to move yourself into position.

“I do. But not how you’re thinking.”

You pause, trying to figure out what he meant. It clicks in your mind suddenly as you're looking at his smug expression. He wanted you to sit on his face. He’d asked you to once or twice before, but you usually got out of it by playing up your neediness and acting like you needed his cock that very moment or you would explode.

There was no excuse that would spare you from this now though. You look him in the eyes and shake your head. His only response is to playfully nod at you and give your hips a little tug, urging you up his chest.

“Leon…” you whisper nervously. You wanted to, but you couldn’t bring yourself to do it.

“Don’t give me that,” he teases. His tone transitions to a more genuine one as he says “Let me do this for you.”

You hesitate once more, but another light pull of your hips has you tentatively scooting forward on top of him. You brush by his chest and neck until you’re hovering above his head. He lets out a sigh just from feeling the heat of your thighs on either side of him. His elbows bend around your thighs, keeping you in position. He looks up at you and finds your nervous eyes to give you a comforting look.

“I’m gonna crush you,” you say as if to warn him.

“You better,” he responds.

And that’s all the talking he needs to do before pulling your hips down and mashing your cunt against his mouth. You gasp as you feel his tongue licking you up and down already. He groans when he tastes your slick. Diving in further, his mouth opens and closes as he pleasures you. He sucks on your clit and massages your entrance.

Your arm shoots out to hold onto the headboard for balance. Your hips involuntarily rock back and forth, smearing your arousal over his chin and lips. He keeps you in place for the most part, but he doesn’t restrain your movements. If anything, he devours you with increased fervor.

“That’s right, baby. Ride it,” he mumbles against your folds.

He tightens his grip a bit as he licks broad stripes over your pussy. His nose nudges your swollen bundle of nerves, ripping sharp whimpers from you. You roll your hips into the sensation. He nearly whines while feeling the fluid motion. He keeps lapping at you like it was the task he was born to perform.

Then you feel a thrum on your hip, his fingers tapping. You look down, at first worried he needed you to get off. But looking down, you find his hooded eyes gazing back at you and his index finger gesturing behind you.

You turn to look and see his cock, rock hard, flushed red, leaking a few drops of pre cum onto his abdomen.

“You see how attracted to you I am?” he asks.

You moan loud as he returns to eating you out like it’s his final action. Seeing him so worked up from merely pleasuring you drives you wild and has you gushing all over his chin. You whimper and grind down onto his mouth some more. Your head falls back, your chest heaving and bouncing as you accept the euphoric feeling below. You reach down and tug at his hair. He practically growls and continues to work you to the edge. He pays some special attention to your clit and fucks his tongue into you to finally get you there.

“Be a good girl and cum all over my face,” he commands between licks.

You release with a yelp. Your hips buck as your body spasms. Thighs tremble violently before tensing and pressing against his ears. He smirks against the velvety junction and keeps going through the high.

Once you start to come down, he releases you from his grip and gives you a firm smack on the ass. You slump over and crumple up next to him on the bed. His face is shimmering with your release. His fingers swipe across his chin, collecting your slick that had coated the skin there. He sticks the digits in his mouth and hums in satisfaction as he licks them clean.

“Could eat that pussy for hours, it tastes so fucking sweet,” he says as he starts moving towards you again.

Now, it’s actually time for him to crawl on top of you. He rocks his hips against you as he goes in for more kisses. His cock drags against the smooth skin of your thigh, the sticky tip sliding back and forth. His wet fingers hold your jaw and keep your lips puffed out for him to kiss.

While he kisses you more, he spreads your thighs and slots himself between your folds. He moves himself up and down through the wetness that had gathered.

“Pretty, pretty girl,” he murmurs against your lips, “My gorgeous love doll.”

Teasing himself and you by gliding his tip over you a few more times, he then moves it down against your hole and enters you fully. He moans, his breath hitching as he sinks into your warm, wet embrace.

“Good girl. Squeeze around me just like that. So fucking tight,” he grunts.

He takes a moment to just feel you. Feel your walls pulsing around him. Feel your heated, squishy form against his firm one. But then he starts to move. He slowly works his shaft back. A long drawn out “fuck” leaves his mouth before he whispers a crisp “good god” while pressing back in.

He begins to pump into you with an even pace. He strokes nice and deep, keeping his movements consistent for you. You flutter around him and squirm slightly as he prods at your most sensitive spots. He leans back to look down at the spot where the two of you connect.

He watches his cock slide in and out of you, disappearing into your cunt time and time again. He’s obsessed with how your slick coats his shaft, dripping down to the base. His thumb comes to swipe over your clit quickly and give you some extra sparks of euphoria. You whine and arch your back at the touch.

“I know you have the perfect pussy. Made all for me,” he breathes, grinning as you shiver from the pleasure he inflicts upon you, “So responsive and sensitive just for me.”

You whimper and nod. Your hands claw at his back, digging into the muscles across his shoulders. He keeps slamming into you. His eyes roll back as his release builds. He mutters more praises and collapses on top of you again. He grinds and rolls himself into you rhythmically while you start to cling to him. It becomes harder to keep still as pressure mounts inside you, begging to burst.

“Wanna see my beautiful girl cum for me,” he mumbles while pressing sloppy kisses to your neck.

You pant and nod again. It was impending. All you needed was a few more thrusts. He swivels his hips, angling himself and swiping across more spots that drive you wild. It’s just a few moments later when your body seizes again and you let go with a loud cry. He can’t hold it either as he starts to shoot ropes of cum in you. You’re both shuddering, faces tense with absolute pleasure. He’s softly whimpering in your ear while your nails make deeper crescents on his shoulder blades.

He continues bucking into you, fucking his cum deeper. It’s almost like he can’t stop. It just feels too good. He can’t pull himself away even though the high is over and he’s already started to tumble down. You’re so blissed out that you don’t even complain of overstimulation, just let him go the few extra moments till he’s satisfied.

Once he is sated, he doesn’t pull out. He just stops moving his hips. His arms tighten around you, and he nestles his face in the crook of your neck where he can take in your scent with every breath.

“See what you do to me, baby?” he pants, “Wouldn’t change a thing about you. My girl, think you’ve ruined me for anyone else.”

#leon kennedy x reader #resident evil imagines #resident evil x reader #leon kennedy smut #leon kennedy x y/n #leon kennedy x you #leon kennedy imagine #resident evil smut #smut

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rimurutempest · 5 months ago

Text

I watched all of modern Doctor Who and these were my favorite episodes.

If you told me back in 2015 that I'd watch the entirety of modern Doctor Who, I'd probably think you're a liar. But, a cute girl wanted to watch Doctor Who with me, and how do you tell a cute girl “No?” Being that of the Superwholock trinity, Doctor Who the least upsetting of the three, I figured “Why not?” I mean, it's enjoyed by thousands and thousands of people, surely it has merit for existing, right?

And, it does! There are many great episodes that I really enjoyed (not to mention a lot of schlock I hated). I even enjoy some of the old serials and that 1996 movie is pretty fun (so very 90s). I can't claim to have seen all of Doctor Who, there is a lot of old stuff I'm probably never going to know even exists, not to mention all the spin offs and audio dramas, there's no way I can get through it all. But, I have seen the modern run, starting with Christopher Eccleston all the way to Ncuti Gatwa in Empire of Death.

Annnnd, anyone that knows me knows I love to rank and review episodic tv shows. So, with that said, here are my 15 favorite episodes of modern Doctor Who:

15 - Dalek (S01, E06)

It is probably unsurprising to any Doctor Who fan to see this episode on the list. The Eccleston era was my introduction to Doctor Who (as I'm sure it was for a lot of people) and this episode was my introduction to the famous villain, the Daleks. It's really a wild way to be introduced to the Daleks when you think about it, the Doctor and his companion Rose end up in an underground museum of alien artifacts out in Nevada and find the man that runs it has a Dalek in captivity. Upon learning of the Dalek's existence, the Doctor goes on a campaign to kill it with extreme prejudice until Rose yells at him about how he's being this horrendous person – which makes the doctor have a “Maybe I'm the baddie” moment and it resolves peacefully. Genuinely is really a good episode about moving on and realizing that we all have good and evil in us. A true standout of the early modern run of the show.

14 - The Impossible Planet & The Satan's Pit (S02, E08&E09)

There's a spectrum when it comes to Doctor Who, there are episodes that are gorgeous and smart and well thought out, then there are episodes that are just absolutely ridiculous. If Dalek explores the prejudice that can be enacted by those we see as “good,” then this duo of episodes is “what if the Christian devil was real and he was in space.” This is such an unbelievable hit of stupid bullshit, but it's delivered so very well. The first episode is loaded with mystery and adventure and unknown horror, while the second episode introduces the goofy concept in whole but still somehow grounds it enough that it still feels like a real plot with real stakes. It's the acting. The actors really sell this one to you. Space Satan is not what I expected when getting into this show but hey, it works and I like it.

13 - Blink (S03, E10)

I'm going to be honest with you, I feel like the internet really hypes up the Weeping Angels to a point that when you finally encounter them you're like, “Oh that's all?” Every episode of Doctor Who with the Weeping Angels feels underwhelming, silly, dumb, boring, with one exception: the original. I will not try to convince you that Blink lives up to the hype that the fandom has built for it, but if you can watch it without the Superwholock kind of bullshit in your head, what you'll find is actually a pretty good story. One of the best of the show. If the angels existed for this one episode and nothing else, they may have stood as the best antagonist of the show, but they got overused. I'm not going to explain the episode, I'll end up overhyping it more, just watch it.

12 - A Town Called Mercy (S07, E03)

I never see anyone really talk about this episode and it makes me wonder if maybe I'm alone in thinking it's great, which if so, oh well. I like westerns. The long and short of this is the Doctor and his companions, Amy and Rory, arrive in the old west to find a town with electricity too early and an alien cyborg gunslinger hanging outside of town hunting the town physician who turns out to be an alien that committed some horrific space crimes. The episode feels like a fun, loving homage to the western genre while once again exploring those aforementioned qualities of good people can be bad and vice versa. It's a fantastic little romp for the cast and these are the kinds of episodes that made the show fun to watch.

11 - Midnight (S04, E10)

Does this count as a bottle episode? The one thing I have to give the cast of Doctor Who is that when they decide it's time to really act, they act very, very well. This episode is completely carried by the acting of David Tennant and his supporting cast. In this episode, the Doctor's companion Donna sits one out while the Doctor takes a shuttle bus to go see a waterfall, until some unknown alien starts taking over people's bodies. This is a very, very well done episode that shows that you don't need elaborate set dressing or endless action to make good television, you just need good actors.

10 - The Devil's Chord (S14, E02)

I realize this might be controversial to say, but Ncuti Gatwa is my favorite actor to portray the Doctor. He's a fantastic actor and the energy he brings the role is so different and wonderful. When it comes to media, people typically don't like to hear you praise the modern bits over the older stuff, but this most recent run of Doctor Who with Gatwa is consistently more interesting and enjoyable than any other season of Doctor Who (that's probably Davies doing).

That all said, The Devil's Chord is a wild episode. I previously said that Doctor Who has a spectrum, from really great story telling to really goofy. If Midnight is the great story telling, then The Devil's Chord is the goofy. In this episode the Doctor and Ruby must face off against Maestro, the God of Music, who wishes to take all music from the world. The energy of this episode is wild, with Ncuti Gatwa's take on the Doctor going up against the insanely wild trickster character Maestro, who is portrayed by the trans actor Jinkx Monsoon. If you've fallen off of late Doctor Who, or you are completely new to it, please give this new season a watch (and don't let the Beatles jump scare at the beginning stop you, I swear there's no Beatles music!).

09 - The Empty Child / The Doctor Dances (S01, E09&E10)

If you're starting your Doctor Who watch at the beginning of the modern series, this will probably be the first episode that strikes a real chord with you (well, other than Dalek that is). This was the show's first real attempt at telling a horror story, one that is sort of zombie adjacent. This bizarre World War Two story with a child in a gas mask morphing people's bodies and existences into more versions of himself is one of the more original stories in the entire Doctor Who series, no one but Eccleston and Billie Piper could have sold this so well. Not to mention the introduction of Jack Harkness! (We'll uh...we'll ignore the actors conduct for this...)

08 - Planet of the Ood (S04, E03)

This is not the first time we meet the Ood, they were in the aforementioned Impossible Planet episodes, however this is when the Doctor finally does what he should have from the very start. The Ood are essentially a slave race, and in Planet of the Ood, they finally start to act out and revolt. The Doctor, as unpolitical as he has always been according to some people, decides “Yeah! Slaves are wrong!” and starts working with Ood Sigma (who becomes a recurring character kind of) in freeing the Ood. This episode also has one of the sickest, most awesome, kinda horrific effects in all of Doctor Who. Above all else, this episode is just very beautifully shot and well made. One of the highlights of the entire series.

07 - The Day of the Doctor (50th Anniversary Special)

Exploring the Doctor's mind during the Time War is such a cool concept. It's a thing the Doctor keeps referring to as this horrific, life changing thing for him, and getting even a glimpse into it is guaranteed an amazing time. Featuring both David Tennant and Matt Smith, while bringing on John Hurt of all people because Eccleston wouldn't reprise his role, the acting talent in this special is incredible and genuinely so wonderful to watch. At the end of the day, it's a really, really good Doctor Who romp and deserves any praise it gets.

06 - The Waters of Mars (2009 Autumn Special)

Pic from the BBC. Theirs looks better than anything I could get.

Hey look! It's the Hugo award winning special! And I only put it at number six!

Everything about this special is so fucking cool. The set designs, the costumes, the fucking monster itself, everything in this is so cool. You know how people always joke about horror needing to be wet? Well this is wet horror. David Tennant puts in so much effort here, struggling with what he wants to and what he has to do, the Doctor is really pushed to some stressful limits here that has such a fantastic end to it. Even if you disagree with where I placed it on this list, there is no doubt that The Waters of Mars is among the best stories Doctor Who has ever put out.

05 - The Impossible Astronaut / Day of the Moon (S06, E01&E02)

This is one that's probably going to get some pushback. I am an X-Files fan, it's my favorite show, love it when it's great and I love it when it's trashy. This two part season opening is the most X-files like the show ever gets, and I am so into it. The opening mystery of the episode sets up a really cool overarching concept for the season (don't ask if it's resolved well, please don't ask that) while introducing us to one of the coolest enemies Doctor Who ever made (please don't ask if they stay that way, please don't ask that). Everything about this is so fun and interesting and I hope others come out of it feeling the same way.

04 - Voyage of the Damned (2007 Christmas Special)

Pic from IMDB.

DOCTOR WHO TITANIC IS VERY GOOD!! Sorry for yelling. For a long while this sat as my absolute favorite episode of Doctor Who. Journeying alone on a rare occasion, the Doctor finds himself spending Christmas aboard the space Titanic (I am not kidding, they named it the Titanic!) and as the name of the ship would imply, tragedy strikes. This story is really wonderful, we get to see the Doctor try his hardest to save people and show love and kindness to so many people, not to mention having a group of characters instead of one companion to explore. I especially love the Van Hoff couple, who are two fat and poor people who won tickets to come aboard what is a wealthy cruise. Everyone around them is rather classist and fatphobic to them, but of all they characters in the special, they exhibit real happiness and love and their devotion to one another is genuinely so wonderful.

As I said, this one stood as my favorite episode for a long time. And, you don't really need to see any previous episodes to watch it, so please go watch it. It's a fun time.

03 - The Giggle (60th Anniversary Special)

I don't know what the wider fandom's thoughts on the 60th Anniversary Specials are, so I don't know if this is a controversial take or not. But, The Giggle highlights everything that is great about Doctor Who. It tips its scales back into the goofy part of the spectrum, but that goofiness is ultimately what makes this such a fun and interesting special. When thinking of actors like Neil Patrick Harris, who are so big and popular and well known celebrities, you forget that the popularity came from the fact they're good at their craft, and if The Giggle did anything for me, it was reminding me that yes, Neil Patrick Harris is an outstanding actor. And, getting put with a returning David Tennant and Catherine Tate really just solidified this special as some of the best acting the series has to offer.

The scene where the Toymaker forces the Doctor and Donna to watch a puppet show about the fates of the Doctor's companions is one of the best meta commentaries the show ever did about itself. The introduction of Ncuti Gatwa is pulled off in a fantastic way. And, the ending is so heartwarming that it makes makes me happy they brought Tennant's Doctor and Donna back.

02 - Heaven Sent (S09, E11)

I previously said that Ncuti Gatwa stands as my favorite Doctor. But, before the Gatwa episodes were out, my favorite was Peter Capaldi. Though Capaldi was given some of the worst scripts of the series (Jodie Whittaker probably got the worst of the worst), he brought such a different interpretation to the Doctor. David Tennant and Matt Smith's Doctors, despite their differences, were largely the same characters. Capaldi's had more of that Eccleston-esque attitude and charm, while bringing this gravitas that makes the silly moments feel real emotionally.

Which brings me to Heaven Sent, which might be the pinnacle of acting in the series. When people think of the best Doctor Who episodes, they probably expect big action and lots of adventure, but to me, the most interesting parts of Doctor Who are when we explore the Doctor as a character. What makes him tick, what makes him who he is, why is he here doing this – exploration of the Doctor and his motives is spectacular, especially when done right. Heaven Sent follows the Capaldi Doctor, after the death of his companion, imprisoned in a castle where he must reveal all his secrets. The torture and sorrow that Capaldi is able to show on his face is both horrifying and spectacular, really showing that he is an outstanding actor. There is no other piece of television like Heaven Sent.

01 - Vincent and the Doctor (S05, E10)

I don't think this is a surprise to anyone. I'm sure everyone has seen the gifs go around of the Doctor taking Vincent van Gogh to the future to see how his work is revered and loved and how moving that scene is. What I don't think most people know is how after that scene, after Vincent has been put back in his own time, the museum doesn't change. There are no new paintings. Amy, the Doctor's companion, then must learn that love and praise alone do not cure mental illness.

This episode has a haze of melancholy. The Doctor may change history plenty of times, but he doesn't often change real events. So, from the very beginning, you know van Gogh's fate, and you know it won't be changed. I actually liked this episode' portrayal of mental illness, it really is something that affects our lives, and makes it hard (if not impossible) to fit into society. How people with mental illness are often outcast, harassed, and treated like subhumans. But, this episode also shows happiness, hope, and love. And, that people do love you, no matter what you may think.

And, I think that makes it the best episode of modern Doctor Who.

Tumblr has decided that adding my full episode rankings would make this post too long. So, I will be adding them in a second reblog (check notes if you want to see!)

#doctor who #dr who #long post #rankings

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sunni-stuff · 4 months ago

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I've been thinking about pirate!Ghost for the past couple weeks. I needed to get this out now.

-🌤! Tags: Afab, Uncontrollable Horniness, nsfw, age-gap. (early to mid 20s.)

The Sea Dogs were an entire ship full of ragtag men, each with his own story and reasons for joining the crusade across countless seas. Captain John Price, the leader of this crew, was a renowned figure known for his leadership and countless achievements. He had led his crew through years of wear and tear on the unforgiving waves, making their name heard far and wide.

None were as infamous as Ghost, his trusted gunner, known for his quick dagger throws and even quicker shots. A hulking man with a standoffish demeanor and unwavering cautiousness, Ghost never fully showed his face. He wore a black bandana tied around the lower half of his face, with black paint smudged around his eyes, revealing nothing yet leaving his harsh brown orbs to pierce the soul of anyone who stared too long.

To those who did not know him, Ghost was intimidating, deadly, and most of all, someone to avoid. He was fine with this. He relished the benefits his appearance gave him, how people shrank away at the mere sight of him, even from a distance. It made sense–who in their right mind would want to be near a man who had put a bullet through so many men that he couldn't count them all on his fingers?

Ghost was ruthless.

A silent marauder who took what he wanted without a second thought, plundering from men and women alike. Wherever he walked, the bodies and blood of the lives he took at sea seemed to follow. The culprit, his calloused hands bore the weight of his trusted flintlock, a companion who would even accompany him to his very grave.

A dirty bastard indeed.

Too dirty for the likes of you.

You.

You, who he sees, enter the blacksmith's forge. You, who wore a simple white dress with a black corset tied tightly around your waist. You, who smiled so innocently to the islanders as you carried out your chores. Running errands for your father all around the quaint island, carrying a simple woven basket filled with bread and biscuits in your delicate arms.

His mouth runs dry.

Ghost can't take his eyes off you as you walk past him, saying, “hello.” to a nearby merchant. Your sweet voice renders him speechless, drowning out everything else around him. He can’t hear Price bartering anymore. He can’t hear Gaz and Soap ribbing on who can pull in the most lasses. All he can hear is the sound of his heart beating and your brief yet lovely hello. He watches the sway of your hips beneath the fabric of your dress, how your stays lifts your delectable bosom with each breath.

He wants—needs to sink his teeth in you.

Ghost is desperate to touch you, to possess you completely. He craves the feeling of his hands on your skin, his lips ravishing yours as he listens to the sweet moans in his head. He wants nothing more than to thrust himself inside you and claim you as his own, burying his thick cock deep within your weeping pussy.

You’re a real peach. All smiles and fluttering lashes. A young thing, he assumes, based on the way the people dote on you so as you pass by shops, making your way back to your father’s bakery.

He’s an older man, one weathered by storms and battles, which do nothing to deter him from his new conquest. After all, the older the berry, the sweeter the juice.

And Ghost believes himself sweet enough.

Ghost discreetly adjusts the growing bulge in his pants and conceals any weapons he may be carrying.

He couldn't afford to scare off his darling pet.

And with that, Ghost followed after you, a maiden worth more than any treasure.

🌤 I had really bad writers blocked and was unable to write for a while, but this has been floating around in my pea brain for so long, so please enjoy.

P.S. This wasn't proofread.

#call of duty #cod x reader #ghost x you #simon ghost riley #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley #simon ghost riley x you #simon ghost x reader #simon riley x reader #call of duty smut #mayadarlings #sunniside

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fuctacles · 8 months ago

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LATE BLOOMERS

Eddie hates spring.

It’s getting warmer and swarms of people are going outside to piss on his good mood. Kids are screaming, parents are showing publicly how terrible they are, the sun is glaring into his eyes, and birds are chirping. Literal hell. His last slivers of peace are the nights and early mornings when everyone is still sleeping.

Except her.

She’s new here, moved in around Thanksgiving last year, and has been running daily ever since. Eddie had noticed her passing his house now and then, her chestnut ponytail swinging with the movement.

Every morning, in a very un-Munson fashion, he sits on his porch, the cold planks digging into his ass, with a thick sweater, and a coffee warming his body. All so that he can nod at one of the many joggers blemishing the neighborhood.

He always liked drinking his morning coffee in the crisp, chilly air, still foggy and void of people, still in their beds or getting ready for work. She is a great motivator to do it every morning, to wake up to his alarm and start his day early.

She’s like clockwork, always on time and never out of breath. Barely missed a step the first time he nodded at her in a casual “good morning, neighbor” greeting, and now every time she passes his house she looks to the side, catches his eye, and smiles, raising her hand in a small wave.

Eddie’s heart swells in his chest and he’s on the verge of weeping into his coffee every time.

It’s all the interaction they’ve had so far, and he’s not even sure what the woman’s last name is, though the rumors he’s heard say it’s Harrington. He likes to imagine she chose this route to see him just like he chooses to wake up early every morning to drink his coffee on the porch, even though no jogging type would go for a metalhead freak like him. He might just be conveniently on the way to her favorite bakery or something.

He hates spring a little less when it’s warm enough for local joggers to dress down. It gets him swooning over some ankle like an ancient bachelor. A couple of days later the temperatures rise to sports bra levels which he learns the hard way while choking on his coffee.

It’s tight, obviously, but no amount of support can prevent the obvious bounce accompanying the movement of running. He tries his best not to be a creep and greets her with the same smile.

He thinks he’s prepared for the sports bra the next day, but he’s heavily mistaken when the transgender flag rounds the corner. He gets the coffee on his t-shirt this time as he recognizes the top she’s wearing from the same site he used to get binders from.

She's a little hesitant with her greeting this time, and Eddie can’t stand it. So he opens his stupid mouth and yells:

“Me too!”

She looks at him quizically so he adds, albeit a tad more timid:

“I’m trans.”

And to his absolute horror, she starts walking up to him.

He’s thinking the worst things: maybe the colors are just a coincidence, maybe she got it because she liked it and has no idea what it means, or maybe he’s about to get shunned by the local community that he already doesn’t feel welcome in.

But then there’s a megawatt smile directed at him and every bad thought evaporates from his brain.

“Really?” she asks, and he can only dumbly nod.

“Thank god! I worried it would be like, a problem.”

Her hand is out and she’s right in front of him.

“I’m Stephanie,” she says. Her hand is warm against the morning chill. Enveloping and strong.

“Eddie.”

She smiles, warm and teasing, wreaking havoc across Eddie’s internal organs.

“Is there a chance I’d get a glass of water?”

Eddie straightens up immediately.

“Yes! Of course! Come in, come in!” He opens the door and motions her inside, hoping the filtering jug is full.

It is, so he pours a glass for the gorgeous creature in his kitchen.

“Thank you,” she says politely and it’s so simple, but Eddie’s melting inside as he watches her swallow the water and lick her bottom lip.

“Hey, listen…”

“Mhm?” he makes a questioning sound, eyes drawn to the way she crosses her arms, making the muscles flex and frame her cleavage.

“Would it be weird if I asked to borrow a sweater? I heavily overestimated the weather today.”

Eddie was nodding before she was even finished, head bopping so hard he was getting dizzy.

“No! Just give me a moment!” he said before running up the stairs to his bedroom to grab the first clean hoodie he could find. “Here.”

“Thank you.” She smiles and he has the pleasure of watching her put on his clothing. “It’s stupid, but I’ve been dressing up, or dressing down rather, to…” She bites her lip as she zips up the hoodie. There’s a flaking-away Metallica logo across the chest. “There’s this metalhead on my route I wanted to impress, I guess.”

Eddie swallows down the lump in his throat.

“I’m pretty sure you’d impress him in a skiing suit.”

She chuckles.

“You think so? Maybe I should just suck it up and ask him out then,” she wonders out loud, turning to leave, and Eddie’s stomach sinks. But then she’s turning back and laughing again.

“Eddie! Do you want to go out with me?”

The relief he feels melts his bones.

“Of course I do! Why do you think I’ve been freezing my ass on the porch every morning?” He goes for the snark because he doesn’t know how to deal with having this beautiful woman’s full attention.

“Breakfast tomorrow? The usual time?” she asks. Because of course, she’d take him on an early morning date.

“Should I buy a tracksuit?” he jokes, but to his horror, her eyes sparkle.

“That would be perfect.”

Stevie event interest check

#mine #steddieholidaydrabbles #steddie #stevierything #stevie harrington #transfem stevie harrington #eddie munson #stranger things #steve harrington #ff #st #stranger things 4 #steddie fanfiction #steddie fluff #steddie fic #steddie ficlet #steddie drabble #cj x steddieholidaydrabbles

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