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star-suh · 3 days ago

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When the Nerd’s a Fuckboy

Jake Sim x Male Reader

an: just realized part of this fic is similar to the minho bit in the week of wonders one so forgive me for recycling material 😭😭

—

yn has been failing his math subject on college, “why the fuck did i choose this degree when i hate maths so much” he cried in the shoulders of his friend sunghoon, “because you are a dumbass” he replied unfazed. “ugh.. whatever” yn blurted out while holding his chest, showing to his friend how much his words hurted him. “instead of being here crying, why won’t you ask one of your classmates, the most intelligent perhaps, to help you with the subject?”.

“hmm the smarter one… who’s the smarty pants in my class?” yn was lost into thinking about it that sunghonn thought he was simply dissociating, “oh fuck no, IT’S JAKEE!!” he yelled making everybody who’s passing by to turn their heads towards the pair of friends, sunghoon covering his eyes with his hand, “the fuck” he murmured embarrased. “sorry by the way but i can’t ask him to help me”, yn exclaimed, “why?” the other asks. “he’s just too scary to approach, he’s a smart guy but he gives off bad boy vibes like a fuckboy”.

“well that sounds off, how can a nerd be a fuckboy. aren’t you just overreacting yn?” sunghoon says with curiosity in his voice, “accompany me to the classroom, you'll see him there”.

“fuck he does give those vibes ynnie, he for sure likes it rough”, “oh my god sunghoon shut up” yn's face lit up in a shade of red, “go to your classroom pervert”. sunghoon waves a goodbye while laughing his ass off. “is he like that?” yn murmurs in a low voice when entering the classroom.

minutes passed and yn was indecisive if talking to jake or not, the idea sunghoon implanted on his brain not leaving him alone, it's like a ghost coming time to time to haunt him. jake is such a hot guy that everyone who sees him from afar would think he's the bully of the class but they get surprised when they see how he's so nerdy. “h-hi” yn greeted jake, “hello” he greets back while still eyeing the notes written on his notebook, “i was wondering if you umm… could help me with math” yn’s whole body still, nervousness taking over his body. “why should i do that?” jake asks making yn gasp in surprise, if he was in an animated comedy he surely would be animated like a piece of glass shattering. he tries to laughs the awkwardness off, “you're the top student and i really.. really need to pass it with good grades”, “not convincing enough” he replied immediately. ‘fuck why does he has to be like that’ he thought and seeing there's no other way to convince him he took a desperate measure. he pulled his jeans right above his knees so he can bend them properly and kneel in front of jake, clasping his hands together he then proceed to say, “please help me, i beg. i’ll give you anything in return”.

something was awoken in jake, seeing yn kneeling in front of him, with those pouty lips and cock sucking eyes. he needs to have more of that, he needs to take yn. no, he has to ruin yn. jake was one of those smarty pants boys with a high libido so his hornyness was at max level every day, this can be proven when seeing his phone full of dating apps and how almost everyone in the classroom was head over heels for him knowing how good he was in bed, hell, even some teachers and staff members of the college were like that from him, truly a nerdy manwhore. so naturally he has to ruin yn expeditiously.

“anything?” jake asks, his tone laced with lust and depravity but yn wasn't as dumb as he looked like, he knew exactly what jake was asking for but nonetheless he decided ro play that game too.

“yes anything please” he keep on with that act because at the end of the day he's gonna learn something and will enjoy it too so it was a win-win to him but oh boy he doesn't know what's coming to him.

—

“what's the answer?” jake's bangs sticked to his forehead due to the sweat, the frame of his glasses falling off of his nose bridge but he quickly fixes it, he licks his lips “answer me slut” the sound of the spank echoed in the room, his hand imprinted on yn's butt cheek, who was sitting on the other's dick with his back facing jake.

“i-i don't rememberrr” yn gasped, letting his sweaty and marked body fall to the floor but with jake's meat still inside him, the nerd has been obliterating his hole the past hour. everytime he messes up one of the 10 questions on the sheet, jake punishes him and made him start again but with a new sheet of questions. “i won't be able to focus if you keep hitting my prostate” yn whimpers. “or you're just messing up because you love my dick stretching this pussy. even a high schooler could resolve this sheet in 15 minutes” jake pulls out his dick and quickly replaces them with his digits. four of them entering at once on the gaping pink hole, smeared in saliva and lube. “or maybe you're just dumb as a fucking rock” the top adds.

yn's head rests on the floor, no strenght left in his body, a pool of drool forming on the floor, “at least give me a kiss” he pouted, “i don't kiss my hook ups” the nerd replied.

“commme onnn~” jake slaps yn's cheek, “four fingers were enough for you to get fucked dumb?”, “n-n..noo~... i just need to-” he was cut off when jake put his fingers on his mouth, “ah ah ah ah ah.. you can't get distracted dumbslut but i'll let it pass this time. meanwhile i think on something to help you keep tasting your boypussy juices”.

jake's dick slid up and down on top of the other's pulsating hole, the burning friction making it shiver in pleasure as if it's asking for more, “hungry pussy” he blurted out, “haven't had one like that for so long”.

“jake pleashee~ help me with thish and then you c-can fu-fuck me all you wanttt~” yn tried to convince jake so he can rest a little but to no avail, “or i'll fuck you right now and then we study” he slaps his tip on top of the hole, then introduces only that part and starts whiping his dick with his hand, the vibration provoking squelching sounds that were like music foe jake's ears, “god how much i love a wet pussy”. “ish not a pusshyy~” yn talks back and it's received with another harsh spank, his ass bright red already, “it's a pussy, my pussy now” jake slams himself onto yn drawing a loud cry from the bottom, “FUCKK!! sho big~”, yn's eyes rolles back and his tongue was out, “look at you, all dumb over my cock”.

jake pulls yn towards him, locking him with his arm around his neck, bulging veins decorating that pretty skin. the headlock wasn't that hard but it has the right amount of pressure to choke yn. the dizziness making him squirm and by consequence it made his hole grip hard jake's dick. “holy fuck, i'm gonna nut in this boypussy” jake grunted, pistoning his hips faster and harder completely ruining that gaping hole.

“fill me up. fill me up” yn begged, jake’s dick throbbing inside him sending waves of pleasure throughout his body, “fill thish pusshy up. to the brimmm~”. the slurred words plus the beggin made jake's dick twitch, his thrusts becoming sloppier, an in an impulsive act he brings yn’s face towards him to kiss him –breaking his 'rule’–, his tongue eager to explore inside yn's oral cavity. in one of those sloppy thrusts he hit yn's sweet spot so hard that it made him orgasm right there –cumming hands free– the white liquid spilling over his body and then running down his shaft to drip on top of jake's balls. jake spurted his spooge inside, riding his high while still buried on yn with a few more thrusts. he then let go of the headlock letting the other catch some breath. jake let's himself fall to the floor and yn plopped on top of him, tired he closed his eyes, while being caressed by jake's soothing heartbeat sound.

“what the-” yn woke up, scared. was that all a dream? he was asking himself mentally, “no, it wasn't a dream, get ready ‘cause we need to finish this sheet” jake said with a monotonous, cold voice, completely different at the beast who rearranged his guts moments ago, ‘what the fuck can he read minds now?’ yn thought, furrowing his eyebrows and his eyes narrowing at the nerdy boy. “i can't read minds, you're just predictable”.

“fuck you” yn started to mumble curses towards the other while going to the bathroom limping. jake just stares at him, his usually calm and cold expression changes to a smirk inmediately afterwards, he then fixes his glasses and direct his stare towards the piece of paper in front of him, licking his lips in the process.

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likeumeanit9497 · 2 days ago

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red pill | c.s. |

chris sturniolo x fem!reader

summary: y/n is keeping score of a strange game between her friends when things get a little bit out of control ;)

warnings: SMUT; unprotected p in v; oral (m receiving); fingering; spanking; hair pulling; dirty talk; use of boner pillz; face fucking; 18+

notes: this has been sitting half-finished in my drafts since the triplets posted that one photo dump (iykyk) and i FORGOT ABOUT IT until today. when i first started writing this i couldn't decide if it should be a matt or chris fic but was obviously going through a chris phase when i started it soooo chris girlies this is for u. HOWEVER stay tuned matt girls because i plan on making a blue pill version;) anyways love y'all lots MUAH MUAH MUAH

“This is so fucking stupid.” Matt groaned, sitting in between his brothers on the living room couch, holding a single red pill delicately in between two fingers as though it was a toxin. “Bro you’re the one who came up with the idea and bought them.” Chris retorted, inspecting the identical pill in his own hand. “Yeah, and I have no fucking clue why I agreed to this.” Nick chimed in, his voice filled with misery. “Because you can never turn down a competition.” I replied cheekily from my place on the other couch, giggling at the boys’ petty arguing.

Leaning forward, I pulled my phone out of my back pocket — opening up the timer app and hovering my finger over the start button. “Now hurry up and take them dummies, I’ll keep score.” I peered up at them as they gave each other tentative looks, seemingly hoping that one was going to have a change of heart. When nothing but silence followed, they all seemed to unanimously commit, dropping the red pills on their tongues and chasing them down with soda. As soon as they swallowed, I started the timer and sat back; crossing my arms across my chest with a smirk plastered to my face.

After the guys had posted the video at the gas station where Matt was talking about his idea for the sex pills, I had jokingly messaged him saying that I would gladly keep score if they really did it. Taking my message seriously, Matt had secretly gone out and grabbed three pills before inviting me over tonight. Thinking we were all just going to hangout, I was shocked when I showed up to find the pills neatly lined up on the coffee table and the three brothers pacing around the room arguing. After plenty of deliberation, Matt finally convinced Nick and Chris, and now here they were; awkwardly looking between themselves and me.

“How long do these even take to kick in?” Asked Chris, toying with the can of Pepsi in his hand. Grabbing one of the packages from the coffee table, Matt examined it for a moment. “It says thirty minutes.” He replied, sighing and running a hand through his messy hair. “This is ridiculous.” Remarked Nick, shaking his head as though he was disappointed in everyone in the room. Still giggling, I stretched my legs along the couch. “Oh come on,” I whined, “Relax, get comfy, and let the games begin.”

𓆩♡𓆪

“Okay, this isn’t working.” Nick deadpanned, locking his phone and throwing it beside him. “Really?” Asked Chris, turning to face his brother. Dropping his jaw, Nick made a disgusted face. “Is it for you?” Chris smirked bashfully, shrugging his shoulders. “I’m feeling somethin’.” He replied, to which Matt and Nick both groaned. “What about you Matt?” I asked, eyeing his still-relaxed frame leaning against the couch. Jutting out his bottom lip, he shrugged. “No, nothin’.” Chris groaned beside him, and I couldn’t help but notice him adjust himself slightly. “Great, now I feel weird.” He said, grabbing a blanket and swiftly draping it across his lap. I laughed and slowly pulled myself up from the couch.

“Looks like you might end up being the loser.” I teased as I began tidying up the packages strewn around the room. “I will n-” Dropping to my knees, I collected torn up pieces of packaging that had gathered at Chris’s feet. Noticing that Chris’s words had been cut short and now the room had fallen into heavy silence, I glanced up at him through my eyelashes. His eyes — which from up close seemed glassy and dilated — were on me, his mouth open slightly from his disrupted speech, and even his breathing seemed slightly rapid as his chest rose and fell.

Noticing this, Nick threw his hands up in the air exasperatedly. “Chris are you serious? See I knew this was a fucking horrible idea.” His sharp words pulled Chris’s eyes away from me, and he winced at his brother. “I’m sorry,” He replied, his words aimed at both Nick and myself, “I don’t know what the fuck is going on with me.” He added, seeming to grow increasingly uncomfortable. I giggled nervously before pulling myself back up to my feet. “It’s okay.” I reassured him before bringing the packages to the garbage; using the short walk to recover from that oddly intense moment.

As I returned, I suddenly noticed Matt fidgeting in his place on the couch, his brows knit in what seemed to be anguish. With Nick scrolling on his phone and Chris burying his head in his hands, I seemed to be the only one noticing Matt’s sudden discomfort. I chuckled as I slid back into my seat. “You good Matt?” I asked, teasing him. His eyes shot up to mine, and I watched as his Adam’s apple bobbed nervously. “Uh…yeah. All—all good.” He replied, his voice thick and slightly raspy.

Glancing down at my phone, I check the timer. It had been 32 minutes since they took the pills. I smiled gently. “Right on time.” I replied, shooting him a knowing look which just made him grow even more visibly restless. My comment grabbed the attention of Nick and Chris, and they turned to look at their rosy-cheeked brother. “You too?” Nick shouted, jumping up off of the couch. Matt grimaced, shrugging his shoulders again. “It’s not like I can control it.” He replied, letting out an uncomfortable laugh. Sighing, Nick began walking towards the stairs. “Whoa! Where are you going?” Chris asked him. “Nothing is happening to me dumbass! And I will absolutely not be sitting around you two anymore now that you’re both bricked up.” He sassed as he began climbing the stairs. “Good luck Y/n!” He called as he disappeared into his bedroom.

“Looks like we’re in a 1 v 1.” I said, wiggling my eyebrows teasingly. I registered the look of torment on the faces of Matt and Chris, and decided that it would be in my best interest to hold back my laughter. “Let’s see who can make it to an hour.” I added. Chris grunted as he shifted in his seat uncomfortably. “I’ll be lucky if I make it another five minutes.” He replied, his voice also more gruff than usual. “Aww c’mon, you can do it.” I encouraged, moving to place a reassuring hand on his knee but deciding against it. As the room fell back into silence, I could hear Matt’s heavy breathing permeated by the occasional soft whine.

Although I was trying to keep things light-hearted, their overwhelming arousal was growing more and more palpable. My wandering eyes flittered from Matt’s bottom lip pulled in between his teeth to Chris’s temple coated in a sheen of sweat. As I focused on their features, it was as though their chemically-induced lust was contagious. I began to feel my own heart pounding in my chest, and I noticed a dampness in my panties that hadn’t been there before. In that silent room, all of our desires suddenly fell in sync with one another, and it was growing harder and harder to ignore.

“I need to go deal with this.” Chris suddenly blurted out, his voice laced with urgency as his focused eyes stared straight ahead. “You’re throwin’ in the towel?” Asked Matt, his lips curling into a smile infused with what seemed to be an odd combination of arrogance and relief. Chris winced as he tried to lean forward, nodding his head intensely. I watched in painful silence as he folded his hands together and pressed them against his plump lips, deep in thought. Very slowly, his eyes were pulled in my direction.

I froze under his gaze, the look he was giving me was worth a thousand words. My brows furrowed momentarily, instinctually denying what his eyes were asking me, before I felt my body begin to react. Heart pounding in my ears, I leaned back against the couch and crossed my legs; dying for some relief. “Hey—what’s going on?” Matt’s voice infiltrated mine and Chris’s stare-down. Picking up on the shift of air in the room, his eyebrows shot up. “Chris, no! That’s not how this works.” He exclaimed, turning to face his brother. Still looking at me, a smirk pulled at the corner of Chris’s lips. “We never laid down any ground rules kid.” He replied, and I felt my throat go dry.

“Well…” Matt’s exasperated voice trailed off for a moment, “Well, who said you get to fuck her?” The words sat heavy in the air around us, the reality of the situation being verbalized for the first time. I couldn’t manage to get a single word out if I tried, nor did I have the power to pull my eyes from Chris’s heady gaze. Chris chuckled, pulling himself off of the couch before slowly beginning to walk towards me. “No one,” He began, his voice suddenly menacing, “That’s up to her.” He finished just as he stopped in front of me, his frame towering above me with his tantalizing bulge directly in my line of sight.

Very slowly, he leaned down so that we were once again face-to-face. I felt my cheeks burn red from the situation I had suddenly found myself in, and the desire was radiating off of me in pulses. “What do you say?” He asked, his dilated eyes flooded with amusement. I swallowed, trying my best to re-instate my own vocal chords. Just as I was about to squeak out a response, a mindless gasp fell from my lips as Chris ducked his head down; his face buried in my neck.

My eyes fluttered shut momentarily, but once they opened they immediately landed on Matt’s tense figure sitting on the couch. His eyes were wide open, showing me just how badly he was suffering in that moment. The sheer need radiating from his gaze on me was infiltrating my mind, but the feeling of Chris’s warm breath dancing against my neck made it difficult for anything else to matter.

A whisper-soft moan slipped from my lips as Chris’s tongue delicately swiped against my clammy skin, and on instinct my hands flew to the back of his hair. Noticing my pitiful reaction, Chris chuckled against my skin. “I think I have my answer.” He whispered before pulling away from my neck and instead resuming our mind-numbingly erotic staring contest.“Matt get out.” Chris ordered, not even bothering to pull his hungry eyes away from me. As soon as Matt groaned, huffing out a disappointed “Fuck” as he headed for his room, Chris’s ravenous mouth was on mine.

I sucked in a sharp breath from the sheer dominance of his mouth. Lips tumbling in urgency, I felt his tongue toy with my lips; begging for entrance. Obliging, I moaned softly as his warm tongue flicked into my mouth, running against my own in slow, intoxicating movements. “Chris.” I panted, my voice thick with lust as his rapacious mouth began travelling down my neck. His hands snaked up my body, taking their time along my bare legs and stomach before tugging against the hem of my bunched up tank.

“Off.” He growled authoritatively. Without hesitating, I threw the thin white material over my head and let it drop to the floor. As soon as my pebbled tits were exposed, Chris’s greedy hands cupped onto them; exploring their shape as his thumbs ran along my sensitive nipples. Goosebumps raised on my skin at the feeling of his covetous, almost controlling touch. His hands and mouth moved as though he had no control over them — as though they owned the body that they were exploring.

His mouth dropped down to my chest. Taking one of my nipples in his mouth, a deep moan vibrated against my blazing skin. I laced my fingers through his hair, tugging gently against his roots as pleasure surged through my body. “Fuck, I’m so hard Y/n.” He said roughly as he nibbled at my skin. Mouth watering from the need he was exhibiting so transparently, my legs widened subconsciously as I writhed for more contact. “Let me h-help then.” I replied, my voice airy from how breathless he was making me.

Chris immediately straightened up, standing in front of me. Holding the bottom of his t-shirt up between his teeth, he began fumbling wildly with his belt. As soon as the metal unbuckled, my hands flew to his jeans, my own desperation causing me to yank down his zipper and slip his baggy pants and boxers down just enough to allow his swollen cock to spring free. As soon as the cold air brushed against his leaking tip, Chris released a gasp of relief. “Fuck, need your mouth.” He muttered, his droopy eyes peering down at me as I took in the immeasurable size of his length.

As I sat frozen in shock, the silky skin of his tip brushed against my pouting lips, snapping me out of my hypnosis. I opened my mouth, granting him the ability to place his cock on my tongue. I looked up at him through my lashes, taking in his panicky and disheveled appearance as his desperate cock pulsed against my drooling tongue. Slowly, I wrapped my lips around his girth, sucking in my cheeks lightly; earning a sharp groan and an indignant thrust of his hips. My eyes stayed glued to his as I began swirling my tongue along his swollen ridge, his salty pre-cum dissolving against my satisfied taste buds.

His jaw went slack as he watched me, deep in a trance. His hands found the back of my head, where he laced his strong fingers through my wavy hair; seeming to put up a fight against an all-consuming urge to sink all eight inches down my welcoming throat. Just as his eyes darkened, seconds from losing all self-control, I gave him some of the relief he was dying for by slowly bobbing my head up and down his veiny shaft. A long hiss escaped his mouth, his eyes burned into the sight before him — into me — as I took more and more of him in my mouth on each movement.

“Fuck.” He groaned, his words clipped, as his hands tightened in my hair. Slowly, I noticed him use his grip on my head to help guide my movements; sliding my mouth along his cock in a steady rhythm. As I looked up at him, I noticed the tension rolling throughout his entire body — his abdomen flexed, arms veiny, face reddening — caused by the self-restrain he was so obviously practicing combined with the crushing arousal that he was experiencing. To help him, I relaxed my throat and gave up moving my head on my own. He noticed my sudden lack of movement, but after scanning my face in concern for a moment, quickly accepted my wordless offering by slowly rolling his hips.

He moved gently at first, his eyes trained on mine as though he was gauging where my limitations stood. With each thrust, he slid his cock just a little further down my throat, until finally my nose was pressed taut against the sprinkle of hair along his pelvis. He held me there for a moment, looking down in awe at the sight of every inch of him buried in my warm, wet mouth. As I began tightening my throat around his shaft, growing restless, his breath seemed to grow more and more ragged — until all at once his self-control seemed to vanish.

I gasped around his cock as he suddenly grabbed my head with both hands, keeping me completely still as he began pounding his cock down my throat. Tears began forming in my eyes from the sheer force of his movements. “G-good girl.” He breathed, his eyes focused on my pink lips as they stretched to accommodate his laboured thrusts. I tried to moan — the lust emitting from Chris as he face fucked me caused my panties to flood — but my vocal chords were stifled by his ravaging cock. Instead, I turned into a zombie: my glossy eyes rolled to the back of my head as strings of saliva poured from the corners of my stretched out mouth.

Chris’s breathing grew so ragged that it was intimidating. Each rough thrust drew a guttural moan from his lips, making my head spin with desire. Suddenly, my eyes flew open in shock as Chris used his strong grip on my hair to pull me back; my head now pressed firmly against the back of the couch as he drove his cock down my throat. Unable to breathe, I entered a foreign state of ecstasy as Chris planted one of his legs onto the couch to get even deeper access; pushing me to my limits.

Just as I was about to grab onto his leg and, with pleading eyes, let him know I needed a break, the most erotic moan I had ever heard fell from his swollen lips. “G-gonna cum baby.” He groaned, his eyes fluttering shut as he seemed to focus on the overwhelming build up inside of him. Flooded with arousal, I suddenly regained the ability to take his strained, erratic thrusts. “You look so fuckin’ good with my cock in your mouth.” He groaned, his words punctuated by his sharp thrusts. I released an unsteady whimper in response, staring up at his haggard face.

“Shiiit.” Chris’ voice was drawn out as he made one final thrust, letting his cock hit the back of my throat one last time before I felt his warm seed erupt; filling my drooling mouth with thick ropes of the salty fluid as his cock twitched against my tongue. I kept my eyes on his as I eagerly swallowed his cum, and watched as his glazed-over expression of bliss switched to one much more alert and hungry.

Very slowly, he pulled his still-hard cock out of my mouth with a pop. I stayed perfectly still, staring up at him with an inquisitorial look in my eyes, and flinched when I felt his thumb run along my bottom lip to collect his spilt seed before pushing it back in between my lips. After eagerly lapping up the residue, my lips were once again engulfed by Chris’s. He moaned at the taste of himself on my tongue, and his hands wasted no time before tugging down my shorts.

He detached his lips from mine, leaving me a panting mess, as his gaze was pulled to my trembling heat. Just barely concealed by my soaking wet thong, I felt my slippery walls flex around nothing from his attention alone. Chris hooked his fingers into the waistband of my thong, pulling it down my legs torturously slow as I watched his chest rise and fall. Once I was fully exposed, the cold air against my swollen clit caused me to widen my legs; begging for his warm touch.

“So fuckin’ pretty.” Chris breathed, his voice an almost-whisper, as he ran his hands along my upper thighs. Once they reached my outer-most folds, he used his thumbs to spread me apart; admiring the way my juices dripped down to his knuckles. I trembled, feeling erotically pinned down by both his powerful hands and strong gaze, dying for him to touch me. I noticed the way he was holding me so tightly, the way his lower lip was pulled between his teeth, before his eyes shot back up to mine. “Turn around.” He ordered gruffly.

Knowing that I didn’t have the willpower to refuse even if I had wanted to, I turned around. Spreading my legs wider and bending my knees, I leaned my exposed chest against the back of the couch for support as I became more and more aware of the heat radiating off of his famished body behind me. I felt the weight on the couch shift just before I felt his hand snake up my spine to once again lace through my messy hair; the warm, wet feeling of his tongue sending aftershocks along my over-reactive skin.

His chest, now completely bare, pressed against my back as his face nuzzled against my shoulder; nibbling gently with his front teeth. Arching my back, I gasped as his free hand came around to my front; finding my clit blindly before rubbing quick circles against it. A stunned moan of relief slipped from my lips, muffled by the soft fabric of the couch, as I felt my body begin to melt under his nimble fingers. “Fuck Chris, r-right there.” I breathed, engulfed in the pleasure of his steady movements.

“You’re so fuckin’ soaked baby,” He purred against my red-hot ear, “You sure you didn’t take a pill too?” His deep voice, laced with amusement, reverberated through my scattered brain. Attempting to laugh in response, I was cut short by the unmistakable feeling of his warm tip, still glossy from my mouth, pressing against my drooling slit. “Mmm.” I groaned, writhing slowly in an attempt to pull him into me.

Noticing this, Chris chuckled menacingly against my skin. “You want my cock pretty girl?” His words shot straight to my core, and aimlessly I tried to grab his poised length in my greedy hand. Tauntingly, he pulled his hips back so his cock was out of reach. “Wanna hear you say it.” He asserted, his fingers slowing against my bundle of nerves. Whining, I turned my head so that I could see his face to my right. Lids droopy, I spoke with urgency. “Please, Chris,” I felt a string of arousal slip down my thigh, “Please g-give me your c-cock.”

With a satisfied smirk across his face, Chris kept his eyes on mine as his hand abandoned my clit. Brows furrowed from the lack of contact, I was just about to let out a dissatisfied groan when I felt the heat of his cock press against my trembling core. I watched his eyes flutter from the feeling of my folds just beginning to wrap around him, and in one swift motion, he split me in half.

Gasping, I had no time to adjust to Chris’s sinful girth before he started pounding into me. My walls stretched more than they ever had before, but welcomed his cock graciously by spilling pools of arousal along its length. “Jesus Christ.” Chris moaned in my ear, overwhelming lust clear in his voice, though it didn’t seem to reign over his powerful movements. The sloppy, wet sounds of our bodies slapping together echoed throughout the living room, their provocative recoils muddling my thoughts.

Chris straightened himself up behind me, keeping his one hand knit through my hair but placing his other on my ass cheek; pressing down so that my back was arched as much as it could be. “You’re making a b-big fuckin’ mess on me baby.” He uttered, using his grip on my ass to spread me apart; admiring the sight of his cock disappearing inside of my oozing pussy. “F-feels so good.” I moaned in response, mouth going slack as I relished in the feeling of his cock squeeze through my spongey walls.

His pace began to quicken, my cunt trembling from the new rapid pace. I could barely lift my head from the back of the couch; his cock dominated every part of me. Deep, throaty groans slipped from his mouth every few seconds, his grip on my hair tightened as he struggled to keep up his pace. “Touch yourself.” He suddenly ordered, his voice rushed and gruff. With a moan, I brought my fingers to my clit where I began to draw tight circles in sync with Chris’s rhythm.

As my bundle of nerves danced between my trembling fingers, my pleasure was profoundly intensified. “Oh god!” I cried out, my voice sounding brutish to my own ears. “K-keep going C-Chris!” I felt myself begin to crumble, my climax violently approaching. As if reading my mind, he grunts from behind me. “You gonna cum?” Unable to respond with words, I nodded my head rapidly as I chewed on my bottom lip. A sharp slap against my ass caused me to gasp, my pussy starting to convulse around his rock hard length. “That’s a good girl, cum for me baby.”

His soft words worked paradoxically with his rough thrusts and stinging slap, and I was immediately hit by an orgasm so brutal, so all-consuming, that I felt my soul drift from my body. For a moment, my body stilled, void of any sign of life, as my orgasm constricted all of my senses. I felt nothing; heard nothing; saw nothing; until a wave of pleasure, the colour of blood, came screaming at me — attacking my nerves and bringing me back to life.

My legs shook, nails dug into the couch, back contorted to the point where it looked broken, as the scream of a possessed woman spilled from my mouth. Chris tightened his grip on my hair, pulling my head off of the couch and wrapping his free hand around my mouth to stifle my uncontrollable moans. As I cried out his name into his possessing hand, his movements slowed tremendously; my spasming cunt suffocating his cock. “J-Jesus.” Chris panted from behind me, struggling to keep his composure as he slowly sunk himself into me; doing his best to drive me through my high before he lost all control.

I began to gain composure over my body as my orgasm subsided — I could feel my weak limbs and filter the words that spilled from my lips. Soft moans still escaped, however, as Chris continued to fuck me slowly; hissing between his teeth as he inched closer and closer to his own high. I felt my depleted walls continue to stretch for him, and fell into a slight hypnosis from the steady movements of our conjoined bodies.

“Turn around.” Chris’s urgent voice startled me back to my senses. He suddenly pulled his cock out of me in one quick movement, and as he did, I turned around to face him. Leaning with my back against the couch, I watched as he angled himself closer to me, pumping his red, swollen cock in his hand. After a few rapid jerks, Chris let out a deep guttural moan, shuddering before spilling his warm, milky, cum along my tits. My hungry eyes flittered between his face — eyes screwed shut in bliss, puffy lips pulled apart slightly, jaw tense — and the filthy portrait he was painting across my clammy skin.

Once a pool of his seed had collected in between my full tits, Chris released one more soft grunt before opening his eyes. They focused on his signature for a moment, before drifting up to my face; a satisfied smile pulling at the corner of his lips as he took in my spent appearance. Taking a shaky breath, he leaned down to plant a soft kiss to my lips before using his discarded shirt to wipe up the mess he had made on my chest.

“Well, that turned out to be a pretty fun game.” He whispered, his words laced with humour. My eyes followed his gentle movements across my skin; watching as he took his time and made sure he left my skin seemingly untouched. Chuckling, all of my energy drained, I looked back up at his crimson-tinted face. “Let’s thank Matt.” I replied, laughing at the repulsed expression that took over his features. “You’re sick, kid.” He retorted, shaking his head, but I noticed the shameless smile creeping over his lips.

“I was kiddingggg,” I laughed, reaching for my discarded clothes, “Do you feel better though?” I asked, to which Chris dropped his gaze to his cock — still red and standing up flush against his stomach — looking back to me with a raised eyebrow as though he was saying, ‘What’s it look like?’. Chuckling, I grab my top and begin trying to put it on. “Sorry dude, I did the best I could.” Just as my vision was restricted by the material of my top over my eyes, I squealed as I felt Chris lift me up; bending me over his shoulder as he stood up.

“What the fuck are you doing?” I asked, my voice broken by laughter as I jokingly pounded on his shoulder. He was walking, now, and I couldn’t control my childish giggles as I tried to get my tank top off of my head. “We’re gonna go take a shower.” He replied just as I felt him begin to descend the stairs leading to his bedroom. “Maybe one more time will do the trick.”

ᵕᵕᵕᵕ୨♡︎୧ᵕᵕᵕᵕ

#sturniolo triplets #sturniolo smut #sturniolo x reader #chris sturniolo #christopher sturniolo #chris sturniolo fanfic #chris sturniolo x reader #chris sturniolo smut #chris sturniolo x you #the sturniolos #the sturniolo triplets

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sabertoothwalrus · 3 days ago

Note

heyy i adore your art! do you have any advce for a small artist trying to get out there?

I guess it depends what you mean by “get out there”!

I’d say number one is to ignore the numbers. Unless you’re intentionally trying to sell yourself to some app’s algorithm, obsessing over the numbers will not help you.

The thing is, it is ok to care about other feedback you get on your art. I often hear social media treated like a dichotomy, to either “ignore it completely and draw for yourself” or to “strive to be a famous viral artist”. And I’m saying it’s not that simple.

It all boils down to why you’re making art. For some people, art is a much more personal expression, and it’s not meant to be seen by others. It’s more about the process and the catharsis than the outcome. This kind of art doesn’t need to be shared with other people.

For others, it’s a living. These people don’t mind that their art becomes “marketable”, if it becomes generic with a mass-appeal. This kind of art isn’t here to send a message, it’s here to look pretty. And that’s ok.

For me, art is communication. I’m telling stories. This is why I’m most drawn to comics and animation. I don’t pay attention to numbers, but I pay a lot of attention to comments because they help me gauge how successful I was at communicating an idea, an action, a joke, etc. It’s still important you develop thick skin. You have to detach yourself emotionally from them, and use them as a tool to help you learn.

This is why clarity is one of my biggest priorities in art. Clarity has less to do with skill and more to with “can you understand what this is you’re looking at”. There are some artists out there who are very good at what they do, but they still struggle with clarity. And the inverse is true; even beginner artists can have clear, easy to follow art.

Some things I actively try to do in my art to improve clarity:

Is the pose clear? Is the figure overlapping themself too much, or is the action still readable from the silhouette?

If there’s text, is it clear? Is the direction of speech bubbles confusing? Is my handwriting/font easy to read?

Would a background or prop help clarify the setting better? (What’s the least amount of effort I can put into this that will give the necessary information?)

Are my lines too loose? Sometimes it’s fine, but if they’re too unconnected, the form gets lost. Should I close my lines better, or maybe add a tone to separate the positive and negative space?

Does the “punchline” make sense? What AM I saying? What could communicate it stronger?

If your art is clear, people will find it and share it! Just keep telling the stories you wanna tell, make the art YOU want to see, and your audience will build around you!

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clitorphosis · 18 hours ago

Text

DOLL PARTS

Death Island Leon S. Kennedy x reader | 18+ MDNI. DEAD DOVE: DO NOT EAT, KIDNAPPING, DUB CON SEX, SMUT, female reader, age gap, abusive relationship, guilt tripping, Stockholm syndrome, dumbification ig, rough sex, vaginal sex, unprotected sex, choking, creampie, finger sucking, bruises, implied physical violence, internal conflict, teasing, guilt, implied obsessive behavior(Leon) i think, dirty talk, pet names, degradation.

Summary: There is a deep desire to hold onto his past, on the part he is close to lose after every birthday date. And you are perfect for this. For him, to kidnap you is to save that part. Cause life goes on and without him, but yours can’t go on without him now. Of course you don't understand.

notes: this is a mess I fear, but I had a blast writing this tho so idc LOL!!! Also thanks @writingwisterias for letting me bother you with my rambling and my indecisiveness with kidnapper leon（╹◡╹）I don’t condone anything here in real life. :3 uhm, reblogs, asks or comments and any kind of feedback are really appreciated!

tags: @melanchol1cs

Clocks are ticking, not only in real time but in his mind - a disturbing reminder of how at his age Leon wasn’t even able to settle down. Tick - tock. Of course, men can always find a young woman, and two or three times of unprotected sex would be enough to impregnate one. Still, Leon doesn’t believe that applies to him - alcohol is not only a boner killer but also of fertility. Neither does he crave babies, he can be considered a dad to Sherry, also they would only show how time flies. She is enough of a reminder, no need for more.

He found you on the dating app - Sherry suggested he try, as a joke, probably not expecting him to follow the advice.

For him, you looked like a doll. Almost a godsend. Pretty, young, and easy to manhandle. Almost drooled at the prospect of having your legs wrapped around his waist. He should feel guilty or disgusted at the idea to fuck you… at the images of the material of your panties clinging to your hips, wrinkling up with every movement before his fingers would curl under it to tug them down. Right? No-no, he is only 38 years old - at his age men are already bald, Leon is having an easy time here. He has a chance, always had.

While he was unsure what to do, was a simple ‘hello, how are you’ enough for you? Or would it be too simple? Or repulsive? Why is he even worried about that, you probably matched him on accident.

You texted him first, something he didn’t expect from a young woman - even women of his age don’t text him first, they are dry and uninterested. Like sex with them.

“hiii ^^” This forces a smile out of him. Again, three dots appear. “You didn’t swipe me as a mistake, right?:3”

He hesitates, his thumb floats on the digital keyboard for a moment. No, it wasn’t a mistake, still, he needs to gratify his ego. “If it was, would it get you sad?”

“yep, actually, very big big sad!”

That was it. Easy and quick to get closer to you. He expected more obstacles, maybe times changed indeed or you are into older guys. All he needed to do was to open his wallet, be nice enough, and show how a ‘real man’ should treat a woman.

Leon knows a lot about you. He knows too much information - where you live, your college, and where you work. Not in a creep-like way, no-no. You were the one asking him to drive you there. Maybe your youth is the only problem to blame on - you were a chatting box endlessly and easily sharing anything with him, maybe things you should not have to. Somewhat, this only attached him to you.

There are always some subtle hints and hidden alarms, no one usually gives a shit about. Also, understandable, to ask anyone who knows him - hard to find someone with a bad opinion of Leon.

“He is okay”

“A hero. Not everyone is capable of saving the president’s daughter” or a simple shrug.

Outside his work, Leon is… just a guy most of the time. Yes, of course, not the luckiest one with the ladies, but it is unlikely someone would describe him as the type to kidnap a girl. No one understands how middle age crisis is going to be hard to handle, he is pushing 40, surely enough it is already waiting for him at the edge of the doorstep - and Leon had enough of bullshit in his life, a pretty and young woman is the panacea for this. The godsend pill to erase his problems.

And finally.

Finally, the tremendous loneliness will disappear, leaving it behind him like a bad dream. The feeling that everybody in the world is doing something without Leon. He can’t stand this ever-consuming loneliness to spread anymore, today IS the day.

He can let himself be selfish just once. Right?

To reach his goal, there is a small step though, a sacrifice to make. That’s why he set a date, in a good and expensive restaurant too.

And today is the day. This shouldn’t be forgotten. The biggest day. The most important one. No, doesn’t do the justice. The absolutely, positively biggest day, may be the right choice of words for Leon.

On the spot already, waiting for you. This time he isn’t late. That bad habit since 1998, but for once he didn’t struggle with his punctuality - too petulant about what will happen, checking clocks every second. Almost like a goddamn teenager, shifting the weight from one foot to the other on the spot. Nothing can go wrong, he tries to calm himself, there are so many ways to cover your disappearance. Perks of the job.

He didn’t notice how you arrived here too until your perfume brought him to senses. Your face is soft, your eyelashes flutter and you are so untainted. Your younger frame reminds him of himself your age. 21 years old, 1998. When he was at your age he had already witnessed horrors, you don’t realize they still exist. Leon shakes his head, that memory never brings anything good, but today his mood is not ruined and the memory has only strengthened the urge to keep you close.

Leon needs you, untouched by horrors and he knows much better how life can be terrifying.

“You ready?” He flashes a smile, his mood is more upturned than it has ever been - you can’t help yourself, a grin spread across your face too. It is infectious.

“Mmm, I am” you nod, curling your hand around his elbow, to keep yourself closer to him. And he is ready too, god, he has never been so fucking ready in his life.

“Not late this time,” His heart clenches at your words, and he looks into your eyes with a cocked eyebrow - awaiting whatever you came up with. “not like you at all, should I expect a surprise?”

“Maybe, maybe not” He brushes off with a shrug, a smile is still on his lips as you get closer to the car, but he can feel your excitement.

“A ring maybe?” You giggle. He opens the car door for you to get in, you don’t want to let go of his arm.

“A ring? Already?” He says and shakes his head. No, not a ring, but a different surprise. He kisses your lips in a chaste way, hoping you will not try to harp on this topic. “Patience is a virtue, sweetheart, wait for it”

…

After dinner was different. A drop of temperatures and an easy flow of the air, dull lights of the street lamp illuminating your figures, inhaling the air in your lungs for the last time. The street is empty; no drivers, no smell of cigarettes, just you and him. And… silence fell upon you both.

Until his hand presses a tissue around your nose. It is suffocating; your nails dig into the arm, trying to worm out.

“Shhh, sweetheart, easy there” His voice brushes against your ear, soothing and intimate. The one he used when he fucked you. “Don’t make it worse for yourself...”

The warm body pressed against your back and kept you close until your body became pliant in Leon’s embrace on the silent night.

Tied up and unconscious. He is considerate enough to not let you experience the narrow space of the car trunk. With heaviness in his chest and like a scaredy cat, driving to his apartment - guilt shifts to euphoria in no time. You wanted this, no? Why would you stay with him after all? It doesn’t matter anymore. He was successful, finally. It worked. Today is his luckiest day, it should be highlighted on the calendar.

While this is the uncomfortable memory of your last date.

…

Every time you are alone, there are little things to do - you could have done some projects for college, maybe talk to friends and go to clubs. To catch a pretty guy, to have sex in the bathroom of the said club. Or fall in love with a guy of your age. It fills you with love and excitement like your hypothetical phone is going to ring as if you aren’t forced to be in Leon’s apartment.

Leon says you are a doll. Not those plastic bimbo dolls you see on social media with plastic acrylics that are longer than their eyelashes. Those reeks of cheapness by trying to be expensive, Leon has explained the difference to you. You are not Barbie or Bratz, those are ones you’d probably played with in your childhood, for Leon, you are another kind of a doll.

He is the one controlling you, making those dumb rules you’ve never memorized and you aren’t really going to. His grip around you is tight and your skin blooms with darker colors after playing with you.

Pretty, that word lives rent-free in his mind, almost becoming the most used of his. Favorite word. Your presence urges him to dress you up. A glance into the closet, most of it contains dresses and other items he has bought you. To take care of you, Leon almost emptied his wallet entirely for you a lot after getting you. It excites him. Admiring outfits he put you in and the same night, he is the one raising the fabric of your dress - two fingers or a dick inside you are enough to make you busy with moans and squirm.

He loves it, oh, he adores it. And your pussy is the best. It calms him, centers him - being someone’s center of the world is delightful, the only one time of the day in which he doesn’t feel insane. You make him feel sane, on the days when your mouth doesn’t run free.

From your point of view, he looks like he is trying to play house with you. In a wrong way. Playing house didn’t include tears or forced silence. Or forced participation. It should be fun, usually, it had been, at least in your childhood. Leon acts like this is normal like he didn’t just kidnap you during your date and force you to be here. He is still sweet, still spending his money on you (even though he doesn’t care about your preferences now), there is food on the table too. During the dinner, the silence is filled with stories from his work - names of people you don’t know. They don’t know you either, you aren’t the most famous captive girl on the planet after all. This is the bare minimum.

What’s more to ask for? Freedom, you are full of his shit actually, you would have preferred ignorance to be bliss cause his farce makes you feel insane. More unanswered questions flood your mind, they stick to your mind like a leech on the skin after a fresh swim on the summer day. You need to wash away this feeling, the only way is to question him. Right. First, you played nicely, still pitying him and holding him dear to your heart.

“What are you talking about, sweetie?” And a confused expression was his answer. He doesn’t even process what you said, just moves on. This didn’t work. Nothing fucking works here.

Now you prefer to poke those facts at him - like a harsh whiplash, a cold water against his face to bring him back to reality. You shouldn’t live like this alone.

Under your flesh there is a hidden hole filled with turbulent waters, almost tearing you apart - suffocating you with confusion. You wish hatred was the only reason to keep you sane, but the deep affection towards him still emerges like a bad dream. His tired eyes with loving and sweet nothing words come from his mouth, peppering your body and face with kisses when everything is right. The memories of nights with him flash in your mind: he is nice enough not to break you, while your body reacts in natural ways. You get wet, you feel pleasure, and his fingers know just the right spot to make your back arch.

This tears you apart, it confuses you too. Maybe there is something you don’t catch on, something missing. Conditioning? You aren’t a mindless idiot, nor a Pavlovian dog, but your body reacts like one. Maybe that’s a lie to reassure yourself. Still, you can’t drive yourself close to orgasm when he is not home. Your fingers aren’t enough anymore, almost with tears trying to get yourself off. To feel like your own person without him.

But something. Is. Always. Missing. You are incomplete.

…

It is already late, really late. Leon is a busy man, at least his job seems to be really important - so important, that he has always refused to tell you, avoiding the topic like the plague and switching to that honeyed tone, talking to you like a dumb puppy. Maybe it is some government shit job, something dirty - suitable for him.

But when he is late, many hopeful scenarios emerge, the most common is his car crushing to death. Good girls get gifts, their wishes get accomplished also, and they end up in heaven too - Leon told you that and to him, you are a good girl. Corny shit. Could he be right though? What if your wish was heard finally? Then remained trouble in your life would be to get out.

And the same dreams are crushed every time the sound of the car engine goes off, the jiggle of keys reaches your ears. You know it too well, you can recognize these little details and they fill you with dread. The sound of his steps, they are so different from others. The sound of his car doesn’t sound like those outside his house. Maybe you are insane, but everything he does is so recognizable it makes you sick.

And Leon is back.

His face is the only one you see, even in your dreams. There is nothing changeable in it. Light stubble, but still him. Shaved and it is still him. Different cologne. And still him. Leon sickens you, this little play often pushes your buttons, urging you to break this act and get yourself into trouble. Maybe the remains of hope are to blame, maybe Leon would change his mind and stop this.

He plops down on the couch, drawing your attention to him - impossible to ignore, if you did, you wouldn’t stop hearing the end of his complaints. His black shirt strains across his muscular body, the fabric is not shy to outline his big chest. Black suits him, but Leon looks good in everything forcing more dread stir in your chest.

“Finally, home” Leon sighs, his hand creeping up to pull you into his lap, acting unbothered. Your legs straddle his hips, facing him. Don’t forget, you are captive. And this is the part of the routine. He is going to watch those old movies from his childhood, or work silently(maybe he will nudge his cock inside you, to keep himself warm) and then he will fuck you. A tearful routine.

“…yay..!” You try to smile, forcing it to please him. Ignoring conflicting feelings in your body, anticipation to feel his dick mixed with dread. A yearning for change. Leon kisses your forehead.

His blue eyes feel heavy on your face, making you feel so little. “I missed you” Leon cooed with a honeyed tone, pulling you even closer. That light smell of beer coming from him forces your skin to crawl. His fingers pinch your cheek, tugging it briefly too. “My doll felt lonely today, right? Without me?”

Again, that mocking sweetness. The one you’d use for puppies. You nod with a hum “Mmm”

“I had a bad bad day today, those reports dried my eyes, god” he groans, his head tipped back, rubbing his eyes as to emphasize his words. But still gripping your waist. You don’t have the mood to be nice to him, his smile and relaxed expression stir dread and hate towards him. And yourself.

“You look like you had a bad day and not me” Leon comments, raising an eyebrow before his thumb tugs on the corner of your lips - smile. You had a bad day forever, your day can’t be compared to whatever he had today. His voice is sweet, but condescending, like he knows what is better for you. Leon doesn’t know shit.

“I don’t think you have reasons to be upset, huh? Your life is easy, baby” He snaps his fingers. Like an order. “pretty smile for me, no one likes grumpy girls”

“You are fucking sick… you know that?” Words spill out quickly and mindlessly, ignoring his distorted expression - you just want him to be in pain. Like you are. There is a hint of fear in your voice, subconsciously aware of what is going to happen after your words. “… you KIDNAPPED ME and you want me to play along with this act?…” A bittersweet pause. Adrenaline rushes through your blood, like after a good shot of vodka. “That’s fucking smart… asshole”

A hard swallow, trying to ignore the growing lump in your throat. Anxiety. This time, your voice is much quieter, you feel so small. Involuntarily shrinking away to shield yourself from what is coming. “I hate you”

There is an uncomfortable silence and his face is not blurry anymore - it is the only thing you can see right now. There is no slap, which is worse, silence is much scarier than a reaction cause you need to know what is going on in his head. You should have stayed silent instead, maybe Leon was right - you can’t stop but back talk and try to get yourself into trouble. You got yourself into this, not him.

Maybe an apology… wouldn’t it be late? Would it save? God, you MESSED this up. There is no way back.

His eyebrows furrowed, looking down at you with a clear discontent painting on his face, his fingers digging into the flesh of your cheeks - uncomfortably keeping you still. This time being pretty and batting your eyelashes like a dumb doll is not going to save you.

“You are so spoiled. No one likes ungrateful bitches like you” Leon shakes his head, not giving a space to you to talk back again. “I buy you pretty things, I spend my time and money on you… and you repay me like that?”

He tilts your head, the grip is bruising, almost. Leon doesn’t give you flowers, but bruises look like them quite enough. His words hit you like a slap, making you feel like there is something tremendously wrong with you, not with him.

“Is it so hard to play nice and stay pretty for me?” He adds with a raised eyebrow. His thumb caresses your lower lip, playing and tugging it down, before pushing the digit past your soft and tender lips.

“And quiet.” He tsked, feeling warm saliva clinging to his thumb as it pressed down onto your tongue. Lucky for Leon, one of his wishes is accomplished - you can’t really talk, only muffled words, while your mouth is occupied with his digit. He keeps the grip on your jaw, before replacing it with two fingers. Pointer and middle finger. You are so pretty when you keep your mouth shut or around his fingers. Or dick. The latter is much preferable.

Your mouth is always warm, inviting, and wet. Hard to hide how such act affects you, your breathing catches in your chest, as his fingers keep rubbing the front of your tongue - messy and slick, not wetter than your cunt right now. Your mouth can not be compared to your pussy though, it has much more pros than disadvantages, the only con is the lack of wetness sometimes. Not something unfixable at the end of the day, a spit or lube (if he is in a good mood) can fix anything.

Your eyes are closed, feeling his other hand keeping your head pointed up where he can see you. To be honest, you don’t really know if you are just trying to illude yourself and hide from the truth - both options are useless, they bring you back to him. Every time his fingers are in your mouth, keeping you quiet and forcing you to suck on them - your pussy gets wet quickly like it is connected to your throat. His fingers delve deeper, moving in and out slowly. You can’t help yourself. Your clit throbs uncomfortably, urging you to do something about this, and your inner walls flutter around nothing - your mind reminds you of how good his dick feels. You probably look so pitiful to him, your eyes reflect well what your body begs for while drooling around his fingers.

Your thighs try to snap close, to rub them together and get that sweet-sweet stimulation, but they end up straddling his hips tighter - feeling the outline of his hard cock press against the damp and thin material of your underwear. It isn’t a big obstacle right now, the burning heat can be felt easily. A choked whine escapes from your mouth, realizing that his pants are still on him.

“Uh-huh, you want my attention?” Leon asks, not trying to be subtle with his tone, laced with mocking sweetness. His fingers leave your mouth with a wet pop, leaving a trail of droll connecting you both. It is so empty without him filling your senses. His eyebrows curl up, glaring down on you like at kicked puppy. He mocks you, another squirming heat crawls in your cunt. Embarrassingly wet, dripping, and staining his jeans with your slick. God, you ARE getting off when he is being patronizing with you. “You ruined my day, baby. Do you really think you deserve anything right now?”

Your mind is screaming at you to do something, you need that relief. His cock. Anything that will fill the emptiness inside you with pleasure. You shiver when his fingers brush across the hem of your underwear, clearly amused by how wet you are. They push aside the fabric, already wet by your saliva - slowly stroking your drenching folds. So warm and puffy, even the light touch of his fingers on your clit makes your body jolt like you are in pain.

“Leon…” Your voice sounds cloying, it goes straight to his hard dick, as you look under your eyelashes at his face - it makes you feel dumb. Any sentences or words are thrown away into the bin under his glare, he doesn’t even try hard to make you feel like that, there is no need cause you are dumb. And you ache for his cock, ignoring alarms in your head. You are just a dumb, aching doll.

And his. He told you that.

“What?” Leon pressed, already withdrew his fingers from your cunt, wanting to see you more desperate. Your hips try to grind against his hard cock, to get a light stimulation. You stay silent, words aren’t enough to formulate what swirls in your mind. Somewhat, his presence and words are always tied to that deep feeling of owing him something. What? Not clear, but it is still here, even if his cock empties your mind.

You are still his after the dramatics you pulled, right?

You swallow hard, the sight of his unmoving hand on the belt makes your cunt painfully ache, ignoring your mind screaming at you to hit him. You don’t deserve this, it whispers. The guilty part of your brain won a long time ago, it overwhelms that soothing reminder - canceling it completely - you need to hurry up him. You are at fault, it whispers. “…Please…” Forgive me, I need you.

You gasp as in rasp motion he changes your position, shoving you and you end up with your back pressed down flatly on the soft material of the couch, while Leon hovers over you. And he kisses your forehead, with the same tenderness and affection he has given you before - like a couple, married couple on honeymoon. Your mind misses the bullseye with this conclusion, but whatever helps, right? The spot burns hot, as a reminder that you have to please him.

Clink-clink! It snaps you out of your thoughts. The sound of his belt makes your skin crawl, and more slick pools in between your thighs like at the unvoiced command. You try to buck your hips up, only to end up restrained by his hand - it grips tightly your flesh, in a bruising hold, and the signs will bloom into another purplish collection in the morning. His hand pins your hips down, - silently denying the control over your pleasure. Couldn’t be even wetter at this point.

It isn’t really visible, but his breathless sigh signaled you that his hand is, probably, wrapped around his cock. You squirm, to prop yourself to look down and maybe get comfier - again, he pushes you down with a head shake.

Your legs shake when his cock presses up in between your drenching folds, the slick clings to the skin, and his cock head nudges against your aching clit. And this hits so good too, his hard cock slides across your cunt. You can’t help but let your hips buck up back, again - to get your own control on the pleasure. Tsk. Your attempt gets easily interrupted again, as his hand pushes your hips down. His cock gets harder after every slow and agonizing rut, the wet sounds of your slick pressing and smearing his cock is like music to his ears. No wonder it is so easy to get lost, thank god your attempts to worm out of his grip snap him out of that pleasure.

You are so impatient. But for Leon, sex is so much simpler, cause he is a simple man. With age many things change, they get uncomplicated. Of course, Leon likes good stuff; tasty good, keeping you pretty, watching how your tits bounce with every thrust and feeling your flesh under his hands, how you react to him. But the sex isn’t the lovemaking or a way to satisfy you, for him, it would be useless to keep you here then. There is a deep desire to hold onto his past, on the part he is so close to lose touch with after every birthday date. And you are perfect for this. Life goes on and without him, but yours can’t go on without him now. Every time he sees you so confused, depending on him - he can’t lie, it makes his cock jolt. He wants to see every little expression on your face, - desperation, affection, confusion, misery, everything - to etch the sight into his memory.

“Baby, you don’t know what’s good for you..” Leon says, there is no answer from you and he doesn’t really need one. His eyes are focused on his cock nudging your hole before slowly pressing in - now watching your spasming and drenching hole swallows his cock. And you gasp.

Without fingers, without any preparation, but wet as hell, you still feel tight as sin. It is easier to get through though. The velvet softness of your fluttering cunt is addicting as your walls clench around him in a vice grip with every inch pushed inside.

It is dizzying how your mind empties together with your body, any remains of conflict regarding this situation is gone. Focusing on how his cock stretches your walls, leaving you breathless and trembling at the slow-filling sensation in your cunt. Your hands creep to rest on his shoulders to keep yourself steady.

His cock pushes through, until its tip presses against your cervix - he is deep inside, his hips nestled right against your ass - and your pussy is so overwhelmingly full, for a moment you forgot how to breathe.

“That’s okay” Leon cooed again. His hand brushes across the skin of your collarbone, caressing it. Burns and you are hot, to the point his touch felt cold. You shiver, his hand is always pleasant to feel, but at the same, the feeling of it is accompanied by something else, you can’t ever catch it. It is brief but always gives you awareness.

Your chest rises up and down unsteadily, looking probably pathetic right now as his hips start moving. Already overwhelmed without a way out.

“Awww, you are just a dumb thing, not knowing anything better” Leon drawls with an amused smirk.

The pace is set, rhythmically rocking against you, using your cunt like a toy. You want to roll your own hips back, to do something but today isn’t your day. You already forgot about your earlier lash-out, as the only sounds reaching your ears are flesh-hitting ones mixed with your moans. His lips are parted on a soft stream of pants.

“N-no..” This attempt of protest slips out easily from your mouth, without giving too much thought into what may happen. Your nails dig into the flesh of his shoulders. His hand creeps higher, to rest on your neck in a loose grip, a silent warning perhaps. Pretty faces don’t need to do anything other than being pretty, but tonight you let your mouth slip out too often.

The hand on your hip pushes it down again, the grip hurts actually. Feels like there are already bruises forming and he is clearly not pleased with you. He isn’t at all, your comments ruin his fun. They distract him from your tight pussy, how hot it is, and engulf him, begging him to thrust ruthlessly and fill you.

Unspoken rule, you should be silent and let him use your cunt without other noises than incoherent moans.

“Oh, no-no” Leon mocks you, a sharp, unexpected thrust, his cock head grinds against your cervix. To punctuate his words his grip on your throat tightens. Or you are imagining this? Another thrust, snapping you out of your thoughts. His hips start dragging his cock out of you, then he pushes it back deep inside. “I know what’s better for you.”

Every deep thrust into your spasming cunt, your thighs shake, and muscles in your body flex every time your hips connect. And his hand squeezes your throat, you can clearly feel the outlines of his fingers on the skin of your throat. God, is the grip getting tighter? Is he trying to cut the air? This fills your body with panic; it writhes even more, ignoring the painful grip on your hip and becoming more aware of the one that’s getting tighter around your neck.

Yeah, he is angry at you.

“Doll, you brought this… on yourself” Leon whispers breathlessly, watching your expression twist with a mix of pleasure and fear. Your hands travel from his shoulders to his wrist, nails dig into its flesh. “don’t resist”

His hand angles your hip better, losing the rhythm of the pace as his cock pounds into you in quick and deep thrusts. It hits your g-spot too, but the lack of air is the biggest of your worries right now. Your cunt flutters, getting tighter with the less air incoming, and more tingly wave of sensation rides over your body. The tips of your fingers feel weird, and your entire body starts to drown in numbness. It is weirdly pleasant but at the same time scary. Deep down you like it, not realizing it.

“Come on,” Leon grunts, his grip on your neck doesn’t lessen, and you try to focus on something else other than the possibility of passing out. Your walls clench around his dick tighter, and your mouth opens uselessly as a dumb fish trying to speak, but the only sound coming out is a muffled one.

“If you are so smart… fuck…” He moans, you feel so good, your walls clenched tight around his dragging cock and your body is so easily letting him use your pussy. He can get drunk on it. “…use your big mouth”

His grip tightens, and another choked moan tries to drawl out of your mouth. Nothing comes out other than a quiet, pathetic mewl. It feels like you are going to die.

“Use your filthy and smart mouth” He taunts again, the corner of his mouth curls into a smirk. His hips thrust into you in rough and hard movements. It feels like just his presence is overfilling you. Maybe the lack of oxygen is to blame. “or you can only use it for my dick.. huh? Like a whore, not a doll”

“A…m, S-s” I am sorry. You try your best, but it is hard to do multitasking when your head is so lightheaded and his dick inside you feels so good. Your body feels numb like it doesn’t belong to you anymore, writhing and squirming every time his cockhead hit your cervix - a pang of tingling mixture, something so new and pleasurable, but at the same time foreign, with the hint of pain. But it is a delicious kind of hurt, toe-curling one.

You are going to pass out, trying to swallow down the saliva pooling in your mouth and your nails dig into the skin of his bicep - begging, unawarely your eyes sprinkle with tears. “S-..sor-r—” This is your best attempt.

Orgasm has always been different with him, it is warm, still keeping your turmoil. This time it is crushing, but feels shorter than it was actually. It hits your body unexpectedly, filling to the brim with the feeling of his cock spouting cum inside you, while every patch of your skin is numb and burning hot.

Confusing your mind more when his hand slipped away, so close to pass out and the quick rush of air fills your lungs almost choking you, overwhelming the pleasure of your own orgasm. You are so sensitive, at the brink of tears - not having any strength to keep them in, they easily well in your eyes, blurring even more the vision before rolling down. It doesn’t hit like it should cause you are too focused on the fading numbness and shaking while inhaling the air - unreasonably afraid(to Leon) that he is going to take it away again. Breathing feels much better than sex, right now at least.

He pulls out his dick, and his cum slowly oozes out of your hole, while you are still recovering. Not hiding where his gaze is directed. It is hypnotizing, urging him to shove it back into you with his fingers and keep his cum inside you for a little bit longer. You snap him out of this trance with your sobbing and incoherent words.

“I am so—sorry!” You sob, tugging onto the fabric of his black shirt to pull him closer to you. Seeking comfort in him, you don’t have any other options. He can’t deny this to you, his arm wraps around your shoulders. And even if you had other choices, still you would crawl back to Leon. “I was mistaken… I am so-so sorry. It was a mistake!”

God, you shake like a leaf right now. He huffs as if your words were the most obvious thing. Like the sky is blue or two plus two is four. It is hard to push you away, the trembling and teared-up mess. Leon enjoys that.

“There you are, baby. I got it” Leon sighs, the crease in between his eyebrows deepens. His hand brushes away your hair from your face, to get a better glance of your state. Mistake. Everything is a mistake here - your presence, getting off only of him, texting him first, and letting him take you on dates. Leon can’t help, but chuckle. “Of course. Indeed a mistake, doll”

#leon kennedy smut #leon kennedy x reader #leon s kennedy x reader #leon kennedy x you #leon s kennedy x you #leon s kennedy #leon kennedy #resident evil smut #resident evil x reader #leon kennedy fanfic #resident evil #leon x reader #leon s kennedy x y/n #resident evil x you #leon s kennedy fanfic #resident evil fanfiction

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ippipo · 3 days ago

Text

self aware caleb

part 1 | part 2 | part 3

it was crazy. but it was fun. every weekday as soon as you were back home, you would call him and go about your day. doing the laundry, making dinner, cleaning the house, it just came to you naturally with caleb. it was all so domestic.

"yeah, and she was deranged the entire summer," you gossip with him. "and he kept spreading rumours that he was being abused by his ex to get her attention."

"weird way to get a girl," he remarks. "so fucking weird," you add.

"anyway, how's life in your gameland?" you ask, earning a sigh in response. "it's alright, playing out of script is so much better," he replies.

"i wish you were here," you let it out, the longing for a companion getting to you. "me too," he frowns.

the weekend was slow and slightly relieving because you got all the time in the world to relax. holidays were on their way in a bit, and you were so excited to spend it by doing nothing with caleb.

caleb would sometimes monitor your phone, using it to listen to music from your world and play games. sometimes he would search random things about humans on earth on google just for the sake of it. he couldn't care less about anyone except you.

but one day, he stumbled upon your notes app. he didn't know you used it as a journal, and accidentally opened a note of yours.

it was a note from when you were 13. the language wasn't too advanced but for a 13 year old, it was pretty great. he felt bad for invading your privacy, but he noticed the word 'boyfriend' and became curious.

p.s. this is an actual entry of mine from when i was 13 lmao

"dear notes (idk what to call you lol),

i finally got a boyfriend after a thousand years of waiting. he's a little ugly but he's funny, so it's okay. he is shorter than me but he looks pretty, so plus point. we nearly kissed today but i wanted to wait until i turned 16. but in case i end up realising he's too boring for me, this is what i want in a boy.

he should be taller, hotter, stronger, and waaaay more intelligent than these bozos at my school. please make him rich and fancy. i want generational wealth, not trauma. but even if he isn't rich, don't make him ugly and boring, guys at school already do that. if the spirits can see this, i swear to never kiss anyone until i turn 18,

thank you."

he was giggling like a school girl after reading it. he was so invested in reading some of your other notes until he heard your voice. you were arguing with someone, and he couldn't help but eavesdrop.

"no, i told you that i don't like her. she gives me the heebie jeebies," your voice booms in the room. "but she taught you in 6th grade, be nice and just meet her. her son is your age too, maybe you'll finally find someone to date!" an older woman's voice spoke.

caleb felt uncomfortable with the idea of you looking for someone to date. it didn't sit right with him. he shakes the thoughts away and focuses back on the conversation.

"her son is literally dating my friend," you deadpan. your mom, as he assumes her to be, is dumbfounded. "but be respectful and meet her for the love of god," your mom snaps at you. "she used to literally pick on me, if she died, i would wish everyone a happy new year," this remark of yours makes him snort.

".....y/n, do you have a pig in your house?" your mom questions you suspiciously, making caleb freeze. "no? uh...that was just- i farted!" you immediately cover up. caleb was trying so hard not to laugh. "i keep telling you to exercise to control gas but you never listen. did you know how happy i felt when you left for college because i didn't have to bear with the constant farting at home?" your mom nags.

you panic internally, not wanting caleb to hear about this part of your life. you wanted to crawl into a coffin and bury yourself alive. "it's just a natural process, mom. please, just go home now. i need to complete some work."

as soon as your mom leaves, you pick up your phone. "now listen here you piece of shit, you heard nothing, not even a single damn word," you aggressively tell him. "yes, ma'am," he responds from the other side. "but, i recently heard about someone having a farting problem, although i don't know who."

"caleb!" you warn him. you bury your head in your hands from the shame. he laughs out loud at this.

a few minutes later, he remembers what he did, guilty consuming him. "hey, uh, listen," he nervously calls out. "i might have accidentally read your notes, i didn't mean to. i'm so sorry," he frantically apologizes. great, another reason to kill yourself today.

"...what did you read?" you ask helplessly. "just something from when you were thirteen, about your boyfriend and stuff," he replies casually, as if he didn't just read about your inner demons. "it was cute," he remarks.

"caleb, my love, snoop around the notes app again and i'll make sure you don't see the light of day," you threaten him. he apologizes again, but was slightly amused. "i just hope nothing more embarrassing happens after this or i might just jump off the terrace," you groan.

later that night while caleb was once again, unfortunately curious, snooping around your phone. he was just finding out about different apps. he was about to listen to some music when he heard a gasp. alarmed, he began paying attention to the sound, thinking you were in trouble.

"oh, fuck!" you moan out loud when your vibrator's intensity increases. your body convulsing at the stimulation your clit was receiving. your soft gasps were ever so clear to him. his entire body begins warming up, his pants making him uncomfortable.

he intently listens to your whimpers and whines, imagining how it would be to eat you out. devour you fully and deeply till you're nothing but a beautiful mess, all because of him. his boner getting more painful as time passes by, but he just can't stop listening.

it gets worse when he hears your moans getting louder, indicating your climax. good lord, he was so in trouble right now.

if you knew he could hear every little sound you were making, you might have just gone along your earlier statement.

#lads #love and deepspace #love and deepspace caleb #caleb love and deepspace #lnds caleb #lnds #lads x reader #x reader #fanfic #lads caleb #lads fanfic #lads fluff

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biblicallyaccuratemeat · 9 hours ago

Text

Velveteen

MDNI!!!

A/N: My bby girl @ethanhoewke asked me to write this, so of course I had to. Beta read by @teaflavoredwitch Bucky Barnes x female reader, online dating, first date, smut!!!, p in v sex, fingering, boob/nipple worship, hickeys and love bites, marking, praise kink, unprotected sex, gentle dom Bucky, pet names, dirty talk, begging, Bucky's metal arm

Word Count: 5.6k

“You have a date tonight. 7 o’clock, don’t be late,” Sam comments off handedly, brushing past Bucky to dig through his fridge, “Oh, and don’t stand up the poor girl either.” Sam casts him a knowing look over his shoulder.

Bucky freezes, staring at his friend incredulously, “Excuse me?” He scoffs, immediately on the defense.

It’s that fucking dating app, he just knows it. Sam pestered him incessantly for months, goading him to set up a profile. Claiming that he needed to “get with the times”. Bucky runs his organic hand over his face tiredly, he feels a migraine coming on. Sam means well, he always does, but his execution is lacking to say the least. Bucky stomps over to his liquor cabinet, making a beeline for his whiskey.

“Oh no you don’t,” Sam huffs, snatching the bottle from his hand. Bucky casts a scowl that could curdle milk. Sam only laughs, immune to the former Winter Soldier’s glowering, “You need to be sober and your usual…charming self for this date.” Sam pats his back, though it feels more patronizing than comforting.

“You set up a profile for me on that goddamn app, didn’t you?” Bucky accuses, nudging Sam away.

“What are you gonna wear?” Sam dances around the question, smiling in a way that’s meant to look innocent but Bucky clocks him immediately. “You should dress up, look nice. Don’t wear those ratty old jeans you love so much. What’d you used to wear back in the day? I bet you were killin’ all the ladies in your uniform, huh?” Sam grins mischievously, waggling his eyebrows.

Bucky finds himself reminiscing for a moment, Sam’s comment taking him back to his youth. Dating was simpler back then, really everything was simpler. His life especially. Women fell over themselves to catch his eye, dressing up to the nines in dress greens, dancing the night away… Fuck he felt old. He wonders if Sam put his real age on his profile, or something safe like thirty-three.

Despite the overwhelming urge to bail, stand up the date, Bucky hesitates. Even all these years later, the good manners and etiquette his mother instilled in him reared its head. Always pull out the chair for a young lady, hold open doors, be punctual… He’d go to the fucking date, but he wasn’t going to be pleased about it. He’d stay the required amount of time, pay for the meal, kiss her cheek, and leave.

Easy.

In retrospect, it should have been easy. But nothing really is, at least not anymore for Bucky.

He arrived at the restaurant early, found a table. His anxiety mounting with each passing second, he must have checked his watch at least twenty times. Dressed in slacks- god when was the last time he wore slacks? He feels ridiculous, he’s sure he looks it too. A quarter past seven, and whoever is supposed to come hasn’t. Fuck, did he get stood up? Probably. Bucky’s sure Sam put the worst pictures of him possible on his profile, he probably thought it was the height of comedy too.

“Are you James?” A soft, shy voice snaps Bucky out of his brooding.

His head whips up, thrown off kilter by the timid question. He freezes, grumpy expression morphing into one of surprise. You’re gorgeous, exactly his type. Fuck, maybe Sam was onto something here…

He blinks, clearing his throat awkwardly. He shoots up out of his seat, bumping into the table and sending silverware clattering to the floor, “Shit!” He crouches down, quickly gathering up the discarded fork and knife. He smacks his head on the corner of the table on his way back up, hissing in pain. Great. So far this is the date from his nightmares.

You giggle softly, immediately enamored by this clumsy, bumbling dork. You cover your smile with your hand, eyes crinkling with mirth. Bucky swears his face is on fire, a nervous chuckle bubbling up in his throat, “Yeah, that’s me. Call me Bucky, though, everyone does.”

Bucky’s anxiety, his wariness melts easily like a popsicle in the summer sun. Your presence, your demeanor, it disarms and renders him pliant in a way that should concern him. Or at the very least, piss him off. But it doesn’t, not in the fucking slightest. He finds himself opening up to you, sharing stories and memories that he wouldn’t even dare to revisit if he was shit faced. He doesn’t even order a drink, sticking to water. The hours wear on, Bucky staying far longer than he originally planned, but he can’t help himself.

This may be the best date of Bucky’s entire miserable existence. He’d have to send Sam a fucking fruit basket or something in the morning. Damn if he didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of being right though.

He finds himself walking you to your front door, lingering on the porch. Your smile, all sunshine and sweetness, disarms him completely. He’s helpless to the onslaught of emotions your mere presence brings about. Emotions he believed were long gone from his psyche. A warmth in his chest, a flutter in his heart, knots in the pit of his stomach.

“Do you want to come inside for a drink?” You offer, tentative and hopeful.

Bucky gazed into those doe eyes, seeing the timid smile and the shy invitation reflected back at him. He felt a stirring in his chest, a warmth that had little to do with the drink you offered. You, with your soft curves and gentle demeanor, had somehow penetrated the walls he’d so carefully constructed around his battered heart. In one evening, you lowered all his defenses. He was mystified.

But even as a part of him yearned to take you up on that offer, to cross the threshold and lose himself in your sweet embrace, Bucky hesitated. He knew he had to tread carefully, to savor this newfound connection. He didn’t want to rush you, frighten you away with the intensity of his long-dormant desires.

Bucky reached out, gently brushing a lock of hair behind your ear, his fingertips grazing the soft skin of your cheek ever so lightly. He leaned in closer, until mere inches separated you, inhaling the intoxicating scent of you that he hoped would cling to his skin for days after this. When he spoke, his voice was a low, intimate murmur, “I’d love nothing more than to come inside, to steal a few more moments with you,” he began, his sea colored eyes darkened with a mixture of barely restrained hunger and tender affection, “But I don’t want to impose, sweetheart. Not tonight.”

Bucky’s nose brushed against the apple of your cheek, a teasing whisper of contact, as he inhaled once more, “Besides,” he added with a roguish grin, straightening up reluctantly, “What kind of gentleman would I be if I didn’t let a lady retire for the evening?”

He brought your small hand up to his lips, pressing a lingering kiss to your knuckles, his gaze never leaving yours, “Dream of me?” He murmurs against your skin. With that, Bucky steps back, releasing your hand. He’s ready to turn on his heel, go back to his empty apartment and beat off till his dick is raw. But then, you’re speaking again, stopping him in his tracks.

“Let me rephrase that,” You assert delicately, “Come inside and have a drink with me. I’m not some virtuous debutante. You can come inside, and you should.”

The dulcet timbre of your voice, the clear invitation laden in your words, sends a jolt straight to Bucky’s core. The gentleman in him reeled back, shocked by your boldness. But the man, the one who had seen and done things no decent person should, the one who had been starved of intimate connection for so long, surged forward, an aching hunger awakening inside him.

Bucky’s eyes shone with a sudden intensity, a barely curbed appetite burning in their blue depths. He took another step closer to you, then another, until he stood mere inches from where you lingered in the doorway. His heated gaze raked over your form, drinking in every single detail, committing them to memory, “As you wish,” he all but sighs out, eyes fluttering shut briefly, “I should warn you though, once I get you inside… I won’t be able to keep my hands off you. You’re awakening things in me that I’ve tried my damndest to suppress.”

He followed you in, allowing you to lead him to the heart of your dwelling. As the door clicked shut, Bucky found himself acutely aware of every breath you took, every soft sway of your hips, every silken whisper of fabric against flesh. Turning to face you, Bucky reached out, cupping your face in his remaining hand, his calloused palm a stark contrast to the downy softness of your skin. His thumb brushed over the swell of your lower lip, tracing the delicate curve.

“So, what do you want to drink?” You ask, already breathless and he hasn’t so much as kissed you yet. With an impish smirk, you tug him in the direction of the couch. The anticipation lingers in the air, heady and electric. Like the way everything feels static, hair standing up before lightning strikes. It feels as though you have a wasp’s nest in your belly, far more spirited and dangerous than butterflies.

The impish smile, the way your fingers curled into his as you guided him towards the couch, sent a fresh wave of desire crashing through Bucky’s veins. He allowed you to lead him, a willing captive to your whims, as you settled onto the plush cushions. The rational part of him knew he should slow down, rein in the tempest of lust that threatened to consume you both. But, rationality was never his strong suit and he reveled in the knowledge that he had ignited a twin hunger in you.

“Whiskey,” Bucky replied, his gaze locked onto the gentle sway of your hips as you moved to pour his drink, “Neat, please.” His voice a low, anticipatory murmur, the words dripping with double entendre, “But I hope that’s not the only thing you’ll be putting in my mouth tonight.”

He leaned back against the couch, the picture of casual ease, even as his eyes greedily drank in every delectable inch of you. As you handed him the glass of amber liquid, Bucky’s fingers brushed against yours, a fleeting touch that sent sparks skittering up his arm. He brought the glass to his nose, inhaling deeply, allowing the smoky aroma to mingle with the sweet, heady scent of your perfume.

He takes a long sip, letting the liquid burn his mouth. He holds it there for a moment, savoring the oaky flavor. He swallows slow and unhurried, feeling the heat travel down his throat to join the fire in his stomach. Setting the glass aside, Bucky leaned in closer, his hand finding your knee, his vibranium fingertips, tracing idle patterns on the supple skin peeking out from under your dress. His eyes never left yours, his gaze a tangible caress that set your soul alight.

A becoming blush darkens your cheeks, you huff softly, equal parts aroused and disarmed, “You don’t mince words, do you?”

Bucky chuckled softly at your flustered response, the sound a deep, rich rumble that seemed to resonate through his chest. He could feel the subtle tremble of your thigh beneath metal, “Blunt honesty has always been a virtue of mine,” He murmurs, invading the final remnants of your personal space, “You’ll probably find I’m too direct, too forward, too hungry for things I want.” His hand slid a fraction higher up your thigh, the rough smooth metal pads of his fingers causing an eruption of goosebumps in their wake, “But I only say the things I mean, the things I feel…the things I crave.”

Letting out a shaky exhale, you take a long sip from your glass for courage, “That’s okay, I think I like that about you. It’s refreshing.”

The way you trembled, how your breath hitched as you sipped your drink, the blush still painting your cheeks a pretty shade of pink… Bucky was a goner, he knew that much. Your honesty in return, your admission of liking the unfiltered nature of his advances, sent blood rushing downwards. Unable to resist the urge to touch you more, Bucky slid his vibranium hand fully beneath the hem of your dress, kneading the supple fat of your thigh. His other arm snaked around your waist, gently tugging you closer until you were practically on his lap, your bodies aligned in tantalizing proximity.

“I’m glad you do,” He hums, his voice seeming to stroke over your nerves like a physical touch, “Because I have a feeling it’s one of many things you’ll appreciate about me, in due time.”

His gaze flicked down to your lips, to the neat sip you’d taken of your drink, before dragging back up to meet the widening pool of your eyes. A wicked, sinful grin tugged at the corner of his mouth, “Why don’t you finish your drink, sweetheart?”

You throw back the glass obediently, all but chugging down the liquid. You don’t notice the burn, the swirling inferno of lust outshining the sting.

Bucky’s grin widened as he watched you toss back the remains of your drink, a rush of satisfaction soaring through him at your clear enthusiasm. The way you looked at him then, with those wide, expectant eyes and parted, glistening lips… The remaining whiskey in Bucky’s glass is already long forgotten. His vibranium hand slid from your thigh to your hip, gripping the curve possessively as he surged forward to close the scant distance between you. Your lips met in a crash of heat and desperation, your gasp lost against the sudden, intense pressure as Bucky’s mouth slanted over yours.

He kissed you with a hunger bordering on ferocity, as though he meant to devour you, to make you a part of himself. His tongue delved past your parted lips, stroking over the sharpness of your teeth and tangling with yours in a sensual dance. His organic hand fisted in your silken hair, gripping the locks and tugging your head back to deepen the angle, while the vibranium one wrapped around your waist tightened, crushing you against the hard, muscular length of his body.

Bucky groaned into your mouth, an almost whiny sound torn from the depths of his desire, as he felt you melt against him. Your fingers latched into his shirt, balling the fabric in your fists as you clung to him, to the solid, unyielding strength of his frame. He could feel every lush curve, every gentle swell and dip of your body, could feel the way your heart raced beneath your sternum and your breath grew short and quick.

When Bucky finally broke the kiss, it was only to trail his lips down the column of your throat, to lave your racing pulse with the flat of his tongue. He nipped at the delicate tendon, teeth grazing your flesh and his lips soothing the sting with a lascivious murmur, “Fuck, you taste even better than I imagined.”

A soft, keening moan is torn from your throat, lost to the onslaught of the sensations overwhelming you. You tilt your head back, eagerly offering up your throat to him, a gazelle submitting to the ravenous lion.

Bucky growled against your neck, a sound of pure, unbridled lust, as he felt your body shudder and your breathy moan reverberate through you. The salty sweet taste of your skin, the hot slide of your breath against his cheek, it was all driving him to a fever pitch, urged on by the desperate, wanton sounds spilling from your kiss-swollen lips. His hands slid down your back, fingers splaying across the small dip at the base of your spine, holding you flush against him as he explored your throat with lips and teeth and tongue. He could feel the heat of you, the way your body seemed to burn against his touch, and he knew he wouldn’t be satisfied until he had explored every inch of your lush form. Bucky’s hands slid lower, cupping the fat of your ass, squeezing and kneading the flesh between his palms. He ground his hips against yours, letting you feel the hard, insistent press of his cock, the way it strained against the barrier of his jeans. His mouth returned to yours, claiming your lips in another searing kiss, his tongue joining yours once more, devouring you with single-minded intensity.

You gasped sharply into the fierce, claiming kiss, your body arching upward instinctively to grind your hips in answer to Bucky’s needy friction. Lost in a haze of sensation, you wound your arms around his neck, nails digging into his shoulders as you held on for dear life. Or perhaps, for the sheer ecstasy of it all.

Bucky shuddered as your nails dug into his shoulders, he could feel your hips rocking against his, seeking friction, aching to be filled, and it took every ounce of his rapidly waning control not to simply tear your clothes from your body and fuck you into the couch.

Instead, with herculean effort, Bucky swept an arm under your knees, lifting you easily as he rose from the couch. He carried you swiftly down the hall, his lips never leaving your throat, until he found your bedroom. Pushing open the door, he carried you inside, kicking it shut behind him. Bucky laid you down on the bed with a suddenness that stole your breath, his hard body blanketing yours as he claimed your lips once more. As he kissed you, his hands slid beneath your dress, shucking it up to your sternum, bunching the fabric as his fingers sought the bare skin underneath. He stroked over the soft swell of your tits, the pebbled crests of your nipples straining through the bralette you wore. Breaking the kiss with a shaky breath, Bucky pulled back just enough to yank your dress over your head. In a flash of impatient movement, he dispatched your bra, tossing it carelessly across the room to land in a scrap of lace and satin. His gaze drank in the sight of your bare torso, taking in the ripe curves of your breasts, the flushed peaks of your nipples, and he swallowed hard.

“Fuck, babydoll,” He breathed, awe and reverence, an all-consuming desire threading his rough voice, “You look good enough to eat.”

Bucky didn’t delay, attacking your newly exposed tits, his hands cupped the soft mounds, kneading and squeezing the pliant flesh as he dragged the flat of his tongue over the taught peak of your nipple. A quiet gasp escaped your lips at the sudden onslaught of sensation, your fingers fisting in his cropped hair, holding him to the task.

Pleasure spiked through you as Bucky’s teeth closed around your nipple, worrying the sensitive bud before suckling hard at the tender flesh. A moan, raw and needy, tore from your throat as he lavished attention on your breasts, vibranium hand pinching and rolling the neglected peak as his tongue swirled and lapped. Bucky took his time, worshipping your breasts until you writhed beneath him, your body burning and aching for more. The wet, almost pornographic sounds of Bucky’s mouth on your skin fill the room, mingling with your broken moans and the creaking of the bed frame beneath your writhing form. He marked your flesh with a fervor that was almost feral, determined to leave his claim stamped into every inch of your willing skin. Bucky’s hands slid lower, fumbling down the front of your soaked panties. The cotton clings to your cunt, slick and sticky. With a low groan of approval, his finger stroked over the puffy folds. You arch into his touch, craving more, desperate for the relief that only he could award you.

Bucky wastes no time, pushing your panties down your thighs with an urgency. The moment your cunt was bared to him, he plunged two vibranium fingers deep inside your leaking hole, groaning against your breast as your walls clenched around the sudden intrusion. He pumped his fingers in and out of your tight heat, his thumb circling the sensitive bundle of nerves at the apex of your thighs. At the same time, his mouth continued its assault on your tits, sucking dark marks into the supple flesh as he suckled at your nipples. Bucky could feel your slick walls fluttering and clenching around his plunging fingers as he fingered your pussy with a firm, purposeful rhythm. The wet squelching of his digits pumping in and out of you joined the symphony of your needy noises and slurping of Bucky’s mouth.

His thumb circled your sensitive clit with relentless pressure, the coolness of the vibranium only heightening your pleasure. Bucky could feel your body tensing, your hips rocking eagerly into his hand as he brought you closer and closer to the edge. Determined to make you come at least once before shoving his dick in you, he doubled his efforts, plunging deeper, rubbing harder, suckling with greater intensity, until he felt your body shake and seize beneath him.

“Oh, fuck,” You cry out, your voice pitching high and needy as your body sings beneath his touch. Electric, burning pleasure crackled through every nerve ending, your pussy clamping down and throbbing around Bucky’s vibranium fingers as wave after wave of your orgasm drowns you. You thrash and writhe, your back arching sharply off the bed as the stickiness of your orgasm gushes around his invading fingers. Broken, ecstatic moans spilled from your lips, your fingers clawing at his hair, holding him to your heaving chest as you ride out the intense, mind-numbing pleasure.

Through the haziness of your orgasm, you can feel Bucky continue to worship your breasts, licking over the hardened peaks of your nipples, prolonging the bliss radiating through your body. You mewl and quiver, your hips grinding desperately against his hand. As the aftershocks begin to subside, you relax back onto the mattress, panting and trembling. You look up at Bucky with soupy, fucked-out eyes, a weak, satisfied smile on your spit-glossy lips. The sight of you splayed out beneath him, your body trembling weakly in the shadow of your climax, your tits heaving as you gasped for breath… it made Bucky’s cock throb and swell impossibly harder in his pants. Slowly, reluctantly, Bucky withdrew his fingers from your still-fluttering cunt, bringing them to his mouth to suck your slick from his digits. His tongue swirled around each one, laving up every last drop of your wetness, his eyes never leaving yours as he savored your flavor with a low, approving groan.

As he finished cleaning your spend from his fingers, Bucky leaned down to capture your lips in a deep, sensual kiss. He let you taste yourself on his tongue, the salty-sweet essence of your orgasm mingling with the smoky heat of the whiskey he’d consumed. At the same time, his hands traveled down your body, coasting over the dip of your waist and the flare of your hips, to grip the globes of your ass once more. He squeezed the plush fat, kneading it as he ground his hips against yours, letting you feel the thick, rigid outline of his arousal, still hidden in his slacks.

Breaking the kiss, Bucky nuzzled between the valley of your breasts, his lips brushing against the sensitive, marked skin as he murmured, “You look so pretty coming for me, babydoll. The fucking sounds, the faces you make… Fuck, I can’t wait to feel this tight cunt wrapped around my cock.”

Bucky’s filthy praise sent a fresh surge of liquid heat rushing through your core, a needy whimper escaping your lips as you arched wantonly into his touch. Your fingers fumble with his belt, tugging at the buckle with clumsy desperation. You could feel the heat radiating off his skin, could smell the spicy, warm scent of him mingled with the barest trace of whiskey on his breath. It made you dizzy, aching with a desperate need to feel him stretching you open.

Bucky caught your wrist gently as your fingers reached for his belt, halting your desperate attempts to divest him of his clothes. He gazed down at you with a wicked glimmer in his eyes, a lazy, sensual grin curving his lips as he drank in the sight of your flushed face, your kiss-swollen lips parted around a needy whimper, chest heaving with each ragged breath. Leaning in closer, Bucky brushed his lips against yours in a fleeting, teasing caress before murmuring in a low, rough rasp, “Patience, babydoll. As much as I want nothing more than to bury myself in your perfect little cunt, I’m not done playing with you yet.”

One hand slid up your flank, cupping the underside of your breast, his calloused palm scraping deliciously against it. His thumb lightly brushed over your nipple, teasing the abused peak, as his vibranium hand traced the curve of your waist before settling on your hip, squeezing the bone appreciatively. “You’re going to beg for my cock, baby. I want to hear that pretty mouth sobbing my name as I split you open on my dick. I’m gonna fuck you into this mattress so good, you aren’t gonna be able to walk right.”

Bucky rolled his hips, once more grinding the hard heat of his erection against your slick, aching pussy. He groaned, a low, guttural sound that sent vibrations through your flesh. “Tell me, baby,” he whispers, his breath hot against your ear, “Is this what you want? Do you want me to fuck this greedy little pussy until you’re gushing for me like a broken faucet?” He punctuated his words with a sharp thrust of his hips, the thick ridge of his cock grinding hard against your sensitive, swollen flesh.

You whimper softly, looking up at Bucky with hazy, hooded eyes shimmering with desperation. Your cheeks flush a pretty shade that matches the rosy hue of your hardened nipples as they pebble in the cool air of your bedroom. You lick your lips, tasting the lingering flavor of his kisses mixed with the salt of your own sweat. “Please, Bucky…” You breathed, your sweet, whiny voice pitched high with arousal, “I’m aching, I need you to fuck me please. I’ll be such a good girl for you. Please?” You flutter your lashes, putting on a sweet, guileless expression, “I’ll do anything, be anything you want me to be. Please just make the ache go away.”

The desperation in your voice, the way you begged so sweetly for his cock, the needy little whimpers spilling from your lips as you rolled your hips against his in wanton invitation… it shredded the last vestiges of Bucky’s control. With a low, feral growl, he surged forward, capturing your mouth in a brutal, sloppy kiss as his hands made quick work of his belt and fly. In a flash, he shed his pants and boxers, freeing his thick, aching cock. It bobbed heavily against his stomach, the girthy shaft pulsing with need, the broad head flushed an angry, almost painful red. Pearly beads of precum leaked from the slit, dripping down the underside of his length, making it glisten erotically in the low light.

Breaking the kiss with a sharp nip to your lower lip, Bucky gripped your thighs, pushing them up and back until your knees were bent and your calves rested on his broad shoulders. The new position left you completely open to him, your dripping, plump cunt exposed and ready for the taking. Gripping the base of his cock, Bucky rubbed the swollen head through your slick folds, coating himself in your arousal. He groaned at the feel of your stickiness leaking over his sensitive flesh, at the way your body yielded so sweetly to his touch. He notched the broad crown of his dick at the entrance to your core, the thick head stretching you open around him.

“Fuck, babydoll,” Bucky grunted, his voice strained with the effort of holding back, of not slamming forward and burying himself to the hilt in one brutal thrust, “I’m going to fill this greedy cunt so fucking full. Gonna fuck you real good, baby, make that ache go away.”

Bucky’s eyes lock on yours, holding your gaze captive. You watch with rapt attention as his pupils dilate, a deep black dwarfing the cool blue his irises, until there’s but a small sliver of color left. Your hands fly up, gripping the fat and muscle of his biceps, nails digging crescent shaped marks into his flesh. Slowly, tortuously Bucky sinks inch by burning inch into your cunt. The air is punched from your lungs, the molten heat of him splitting you in half pushes you to the brink of sanity. Bucky’s muscles flexed beneath your fingers as he sank into your tight, soaked heat with an almost sadistic slowness. Each inch of his thick, pulsing cock stretching you wider, filling you more completely, drew a ragged gasp from your lips. Your inner walls clenched and fluttered around his invading length, trying desperately to adjust to the delicious intrusion. He didn’t stop until he was fully seated inside you, his heavy balls nestling against the curve of your ass. With a low, ragged groan he remained still, allowing you to feel every throbbing inch of him, letting you savor the way he stretched you so exquisitely. Panting harshly, Bucky leaned down to capture your mouth in a deep, hungry kiss. His tongue licked into your mouth, tasting you, consuming you, as hips began to move in a slow, relentless rhythm. He withdrew until just the tip remained inside before surging forward, burying himself to the hilt in one powerful thrust.

He set a steady, pounding pace, your old bed frame creaking and shaking with the force of his thrusts. Each drive of his hips rocked you upward, the harsh slap of skin against skin echoing through your bedroom as he fucked into you with ruthless, single-minded intensity.

“Harder, please, fuck me harder,” You whine, your voice pitching high and desperate as you screw your eyes shut and surrender yourself completely to the overwhelming sensations consuming you. Your nails dig harder into the well-honed muscles of Bucky’s biceps, clinging to him like a lifeline as you feel yourself hurtling towards the edge of oblivion once more.

Each vicious, pounding thrust of his hips drives the air from your lungs, the breathlessness of your panting merging with the slap of his hips into your thighs and the bed frame groaning beneath you. You can feel every throbbing each, every turgid vein, filling you so impossibly full that you swear you can feel him in your throat. You’re drowning in the sheer, mindless bliss of it all, every thought, every shred of coherence stripped away until there’s nothing left but the raw, visceral need to come undone around him. “Harder,” you beg, your voice ragged and desperate, your body yielding utterly to his punishing, driving power.

Bucky snarled in response to your desperate plea, his hips surging forward with renewed vigor. He gripped your thighs hard enough to leave bruises, pulling you onto his plundering cock as he slammed into you with brutal force. “Fuck, baby, you feel so goddamned good,” Bucky growled, his voice raw and ragged with pleasure. He could feel your velvety walls clenching around his plunging length, your body welcoming each vicious thrust as if it were made for the sole purpose of milking his dick. Angling his hips, Bucky aimed for the wettest depths of your cunt, wrenching raw, ecstatic cries from your throat. He pounded into it with laser focus, grunting from the effort of his thrusts, his muscles flexing and bunching beneath your grasping fingers.

“That’s it, sweetheart. Take it. Take every fucking inch,” he commanded, his gaze burning into yours with fierce, possessive intensity, “Let me hear that sweet voice as I fuck this sloppy little pussy.”

Bucky could feel his release building, coiling tight in his gut as his thrusts grew more erratic, more desperate. He was close, so fucking close, but he wouldn’t let himself come until he’d fucked every last ounce of pleasure from your body. “Gonna fill you up, baby girl,” He promised roughly, “I’m going to pump you so fucking full, gonna be leaking out of this pretty hole for days. You want that, sweetheart?”

“Fuck,” You sigh out, lost to the pleasure, “Please, give me your cum, I’ve been a good girl. Give it to me, Bucky.”

With a harsh groan, Bucky slammed into you one final time, burying himself to the hilt inside your spasming heat. Your cunt flutters and throbs, joining him in the throes of a toe curling orgasm. He captures your mouth in a brutal, devouring kiss, swallowing your needy whines as his cock jerked and pulsed, spurting thick ropes of pearlescent seed deep into your clutching core. Bucky’s body shuddered and quaked above you, his hips rocking shallowly as he rode out the waves of his intense release. His cock throbbed, painting your insides white with his essence, marking you irrevocably as his. He moaned long and low into your mouth, as the last gushes of his orgasm ebbed away. Bucky broke the kiss, his breathing ragged and harsh.He rested his forehead against yours, his blue eyes boring intensely into yours as he ground the base of his shaft against your sensitive sex. His spent cock was still nestled deep inside you, plugging you up. Bucky’s hand crept between your bodies, calloused fingers finding your sensitive, aching clit. He circled the swollen nub with a surprising gentleness, coaxing lazy sparks of pleasure from your overstimulated flesh, “Such a good girl,” he whispered, grinning lazily, “You took that so well, sweetheart. I’m gonna take you out for our second date tomorrow morning, that okay with you?”

You huff softly, rolling your eyes playfully. As if that offer would be anything less than okay.

#fanfic #fanfiction #bucky barnes #marvel #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky x reader #bucky x you #bucky barnes x reader #bucky fanfic #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes x female reader #smut #mcu #sebastian stan #sebastian stan x reader #callie's masterlist

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frances-baby-houseman · 3 days ago

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This is really interesting to me! We have never let our kids watch youtube. Here's what we do for technology in our house with 2 elementary school aged kids. It works for us!

No devices. We do not even have an ipad! When we travel they can watch shows on our phones, but they essentially do not play with devices at home. I have a coloring app on my phone that Alice is allowed to do when she gets stressed out, and Joe likes to practice writing in my notes app and look at the maps app, but that's it. No games, no watching shows on a device.

They cannot access youtube, on a device or on the tv. There is so much kid-friendly tv that has been produced by tv producers. No need for them to watch anything that involves that kind of scrolling or algorithm. Of course there is good stuff on youtube-- cool old cartoons, and they love watching Girlfriend Reviews with Adam, they used to watch Jonathan Bird's Blue World-- but they can only watch stuff we approve and turn on for them.

Basically unlimited tv. We are not monsters, in fact, we do not limit tv in any meaningful way. We have found that sometimes they watch a ton of tv but most of the time they watch a little bit then wander off to play. When the tv is far away from their faces and they have to share it with the whole household (we have but one tv!), it's just not as all-engrossing as a device.

They both have school ipads-- Joe's lives at school, but Alice gets to bring hers home (I gave permission) bc she likes to use some school provided app to make book reports, and also they have an overdrive app called sora and she has a lot of books on there.

There's stuff on our phones that they love-- especially instagram filters-- but it's a treat! We love tv in our house, and adam and I are obviously addicted to our phones, but our kids are actually pretty device-free. I personally find youtube gross and scary so this is how it goes in our house!

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echo-riot · 13 hours ago

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✞⛧ Thorns in Kindness (Abby Anderson x Overly Kind Reader) ✞⛧

Warnings: Hurt/Comfort themes, Brief mention of verbal conflict (reader gets yelled at), Sensitive reader, Protective Abby moments

An: found this in the depths of my notes app (along with a looooot more Abby drabbles…post or nah?)

The midday sun filters through the dense treetops, casting dappled light over the bustling camp. You’re moving carefully, balancing a bundle of firewood in your arms. It’s not exactly glamorous work, but you don’t mind pitching in where you’re needed. Everyone here has their part to play, and you’ve always been good at doing yours with a quiet sort of diligence.

The camp hums with activity—people chatting, the clang of tools, the occasional bark of a dog. It’s peaceful, in its own way, even if survival is always just a little too close to the forefront of everyone’s mind.

Lost in your thoughts, you don’t notice someone stepping into your path until it’s too late. Your shoulder grazes theirs, the collision jarring enough to make you stumble and drop a few logs. You blink, disoriented, then immediately turn to apologize.

“I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean—”

“Watch where you’re going!” the person snaps, voice sharp and cutting.

The words hit you harder than you’d expect, and you freeze, blinking up at them with wide eyes. Their expression is a mix of annoyance and impatience, and they don’t wait for a response before brushing past you.

You’re left standing there, stunned. Your hands automatically move to gather the fallen logs, but your mind is still replaying the harshness of their tone. You hadn’t meant to bump into them. You’d apologized right away. So why did it feel like their words were still lodged somewhere in your chest, like a thorn you couldn’t quite pull out?

Shaking your head, you finish picking up the wood and deliver it to the fire pit. You keep busy for the rest of the day, doing your best to push the interaction to the back of your mind. But it lingers, uninvited and unwelcome, casting a shadow over your usually bright demeanor.

Later that night, you’re curled up in the tent you share with Abby. The day’s work has worn you out, and the familiar comfort of her presence is a balm against the ache in your chest. She’s lying beside you, her broad shoulders relaxed as she flips through a tattered book she’s read at least twice before.

You’re quiet, your head resting against her arm. Normally, you’d be chatting about something—anything—but tonight, you can’t seem to find the words. Abby notices. She always does.

“You’re quiet,” she murmurs, closing the book and turning her attention to you. Her hand finds your hair, brushing it back in a soothing motion. “What’s on your mind, babe?”

You hesitate, the weight of the day pressing down on you. You don’t want to seem overly sensitive. It was such a small thing, really. But it had hurt.

“I, um…” Your voice is soft, hesitant. “Something happened earlier. It’s kind of stupid, though.”

Abby frowns, shifting so she can look at you more fully. “If it’s bothering you, it’s not stupid. Talk to me.”

You let out a quiet sigh, curling in closer to her. Her warmth is grounding, and it gives you the courage to speak.

“I was carrying firewood, and I accidentally bumped into someone. They yelled at me. Said I should watch where I’m going.” You pause, your fingers picking at the edge of your blanket. “I apologized, but… I don’t know. The way they said it, it just… it felt mean. Like they didn’t care that it was an accident.”

Abby’s jaw tightens, her protective instincts kicking in immediately. “Who was it?” she asks, her tone sharper than before.

“I don’t know,” you admit, shaking your head. “It happened so fast. And it’s not a big deal, really. I just… I keep thinking about it, and I hate that I’m letting it get to me.”

Abby’s hand moves to your back, her fingers tracing slow, reassuring circles. “It’s not stupid to feel hurt,” she says gently. “Some people are just assholes. Doesn’t mean you have to suck it up and pretend it doesn’t bother you.”

You glance up at her, your eyes glistening with unshed tears. “But I feel too sensitive, you know? Like… I shouldn’t let something so small ruin my day.”

Abby’s expression softens, and she leans down to press a kiss to your forehead. “You’re not too sensitive. You’re kind. And sometimes, when you’re kind, people who aren��t can make you feel like you’re wrong for it. But you’re not. Don’t ever think that.”

Her words wrap around you like a blanket, soothing the ache in your chest. You nod, burying your face against her shoulder.

“Thanks, Abby,” you whisper.

“Always,” she replies, her voice low and steady. “And if anyone gives you shit again, you come straight to me, okay?”

You can’t help but smile at that, her fierce protectiveness reassuring in a way that only she can be.

The two of you settle back into the quiet comfort of the tent, Abby’s arms wrapped securely around you. And for the first time all day, the weight on your heart feels a little lighter.

#abby x you #abby imagines #abby x fem!reader #abby the last of us #abby tlou #abby x reader #abby headcanons #abby anderson x reader #the last of us x you #the last of us x reader #the last of us

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virgilisspidey · 1 day ago

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LMK CHARACTERS IN HOGWARTS HOUSES

I accidentally exited the app before I finished typing out my thoughts but I saw a post, I don’t remember from who and I can’t find it anymore about where the LMK characters would be sorted it they were to go to Hogwarts.

From what I can remember they said that:

MK would be a Hufflepuff

Mei would be a Slytherin or a Gryffindor

Red Son would be a Ravenclaw pretending to be a Slytherin

Pigsy a Slytherin (?)

Tang a Ravenclaw

Macaque and Wukong they had a hard time where to put them because halfway throughout the post they realized how complicated sorting is

They asked for other’s opinions as the other characters are starting to confuse them on where they should be sorted.

As someone who has read the books in elementary and endeavoring to rewrite the whole Harry Potter series for my own indulgence, I can confidently say that I know my way around Hogwarts houses and has sorted different characters from different fandoms before.

TO YOU WHO POSTED THAT, PLEASE ENJOY!!

Long post ahead

First and foremost… what are the Hogwarts houses?

They are Gryffndor, Ravenclaw, Hufflepuff, and Slytherin— named after the four founding fathers and mothers that established the school. What they value the most in a person is how they are chosen to their respective houses.

Gryffindor valued bravery, loyalty, and chivalry.

Ravenclaw valued intelligence, creativity, and wit.

Hufflepuff valued kindness, hard work, and patience.

Slytherin valued ambition, cunning, and resourcefulness.

You would think it would be easy to sort people in these four molds but the problem is that people change and develop overtime, making it harder and harder to put them into specific character traits that each house values. That’s why I see the original poster struggle, since they’re looking to far into the series for character development, making it harder for them to sort the characters into these respective houses.

But there’s one thing we have to remember…

They were all sorted when they were 11 years old.

They were all sorted in the time of their lives where they barely even started puberty. Where they barely even know who they are and what their place was in the world. They are sorted at a time where they are easily influenced by their peers.

And being sorted to a house doesn’t strictly mean that they have to remain acting with the traits that accepted them in mind. Take Gilderoy Lockhart and Peter Pettigrew for example. Lockhart was a Ravenclaw but what do we see him do? He steals the work of other brilliant witches and wizards and pass it as his own. There is no denying that he’s not smart, he is, he managed to get into Ravenclaw after all, but his methods, as he grew up, was becoming more and more of a Slytherin’s. Pettigrew, on the other hand, was describe to be a coward and a frequent follower. He does whatever other people want, and we can say that can be a Gryffindor trait of being loyal to his friends but what do we see later on? He betrays his friends, causing their deaths and going over to the dark side. A Gryffindor caused everything to fall apart, causing the main character’s parents to die, causing his entire friend group to fall apart.

With that out of the way, I know what you are really here for: the LMK character sorting ceremony.

Let’s start with the traffic light trio.

I think the original poster also minded the colors of the house as another basis but for this, we ain’t doing that.

What we are going to do is observing the characters when they showed up the first time or their earliest ever version. Afterwards we try to see what house they could’ve been sorted to after some character development.

Let’s begin.

MK is a Hufflepuff and I completely agree with that. Although it doesn’t seem so at the start, MK does exhibit traits of being a Hufflepuff by doing what he thinks is right and returning Wukong’s staff to him at a moment’s notice. Hufflepuffs are also known to be honest, and that’s what MK has been from the very start, honest about how it was his fault for the staff getting stolen, honest that he doesn’t believe himself to be the perfect fit to stop DBK, honest in what he views or thinks of himself. Although Hufflepuffs get stereotyped for being soft and uwu-ified by the fandom, MK represents the house very well as the series goes on. MK sticks to his ideals. He redeems characters left and right, displaying kindness no other character was willing to display. He is also hard working in training and trying to prove himself… however, Hufflepuffs also have flaws, that being, due to their impartialness, aka tendency not to take any sides, they often find themselves right in the middle of conflicts where they don’t know where to go. That conflict can be seen with MK as more and more of Wukong’s past enemies start to show up and more and more of his own past was starting to come to light. He is confused and doesn’t know which path to take, as Hufflepuffs tend to see things black and white. Til the very end of season 5, however, he showcased his Hufflepuff traits very well by making it the people’s choice to live on, and not his own as they start to rebuild the pillar.

Mei was being confused between a Gryffindor and a Slytherin but I do believe she is a Gryffindor. At the start of the series we are introduced to her as an adrenaline junky, she was a little bit jealous seeing MK running around with another person having fun, but her mood quickly changes to cold threats the moment she found out that MK was being chased in the not so fun way. She observes the Gryffindor traits very well, she is brave and chivalrous, and oh so loyal to her friends, and especially MK as she develops. What she said as the Samadhi Fire manifests within her is very Gryffindor-like, and most especially her anger. Gryffindor’s most negative trait are their temper. She is one angry character and we can see that consistently throughout the show. One thing that I also love to speculate in Gryffindors is that their weakness are other people because of their loyalty and Mei has always been afraid of losing MK as he becomes more and more distant, wanting to have their own monkey dragon bonding time in season 5 before it was abruptly cut short. She values their friendship too much is crushes her. Gryffindors tend to also be stubborn, attacking first and asking questions later, something Mei does. Henceforth, Gryffiindor.

Red Son, and I am going to contradict the original poster, is a Slytherin. There is no denying that he is very smart but the first ever moment we see him he was being ambitious about his invention aiding the return of his father. That is not to say the entire Demon Bull King family are Slytherins (although I love to believe PIF is a Slytherin and DBK was a Gryffindor), but that’s what he is when we first see him. He is a prideful character who wants to rule the world with his family’s side and using any sort of means to achieve it. The seizing of the weather tower is a work of cunning and resourcefulness, heck, his inventions itself is a display of his resourcefulness. Not anyone can lift Wukong’s staff and he managed to do it… with a gauntlet. As the show goes on, he does exhibit more and more of that Ravenclaw mindset as his family mellows out. Believe it or not, he still does want to do conquest but he prioritizes finding knowledge and researching about the Samadhi Fire. By being a combination of a Slytherin and a Ravenclaw, I do believe it helped him not being that single minded, as Ravenclaw’s do tend to rely too much on their own knowledge and not on other people, him being a Slytherin helps him acknowledge the fact that it is necessary to ask other people for help, like Mei in season 5 when he messed up and made an artificial Samadhi Fire pug creature thing. As I observed with Slytherins too, they tend to do things for their own benefit, like Red Son did in the Spider Queen special, where he would rather save the city just to get his father back rather than saving it for the goodness of his own heart, because of this, they tend to be a little bit harder to trust if they deem you not useful in their plans.

Now unto the rest of the Monkie Kid gang!!

Sandy, Tang, and Pigsy’s sections would be much shorter since I see them as pretty cut and dry.

Tang is a Ravenclaw through and through. He is someone who values knowledge so much and want to discover more and more, going as far as to write his own version of the Journey to the West as they search for the Samadhi Fire rings. He even geeks out a lot about all of the things he has learned and lets not deny that fact that he has saved their asses by giving important exposition and knowledge, so yes, Ravenclaw.

Pigsy, on the other hand, is different from op’s opinion (if i can even remember correctly). He is a Hufflepuff. Although it does fit for him to be a Slytherin because of his ambitions for his restaurant, Hufflepuffs are well known to value hard work and that’s what Pigsy is all about. He also tends to be blunt and honest about things, another Hufflepuff trait. And again, Hufflepuffs don’t have to be soft guys, he’s pretty much the epitome of what a Hufflepuff is.

With Sandy, oh boy I am gonna love this, he is a Gryffindor. Remember their character flaw being their temper? That’s why I saved him last for this trio of characters. He displays so many Gryffindor like traits throughout the show too, loyal to a fault, brave, and definitely chivalrous. As he grows as a character, we find him being more of a Hufflepuff, his kindness shows it all but just like MK, because he tends to be passive, he gets right in the middle of conflict not knowing what to do.

Now… what I know you’re all actually here for…

Wukong and Macaque.

Let’s save Wukong for last.

For these two we are going to base it all on the brotherhood period of their lives so most of it will be based on speculation on my part.

Macaque back then, isn’t like the Macaque we have now. We do see so little of them and I do think it is seen through Azure’s perspective most of the time, so we cannot truly see what his old personality really was like before his death. From what I can see, and this would seem out of left field, but he’s a Gryffindor.

He is loyal to a fault, loyal to Wukong most of all. We don’t know when these guys met, if it was before the brotherhood or during the beginning of it, but based on how Peng always loved to throw unnecessary shade towards him, Wukong and Macaque are very close. That is also based on the peach scene as well as the fact that they can be seen together in the season 4 intro first before it was the scene where Azure discovers Wukong, so it’s a bit safer to assume that they knew each other before the brotherhood gets established and this has led me to believe that Wukong was the only reason Macaque was even there in the first place.

From what we can tell on how others described Macaque in the past, he is a match to Wukong, they can fight really well together and have done so multiple times based on another thing in season 5 where they don’t even need to talk to each other to know what they were going to do, he also had this self sacrifice moment there too, something that I have observed Gryffindors do sometimes. This also leads me to believe that Macaque tried to fight in a more heads on approach like Wukong did before, not really utilizing the efficiency of his shadows much so he would match with his friend. It is safe to assume that he would be a Gryffindor…

But in his revival he is a Slytherin. His tactics has changed, being more manipulative, more cunning, if you will, rather than facing things head on. His tactics involved redirections, disguises, use of his environment, illusions, and big grandiose shows of power for intimidation. His personality changed as well, as one of the more negative Slytherin traits are the tendency to being selfish. Since he was revived and tried to avoid his job of freeing LBD knowing its consequences, he was forced to work under her to keep himself alive, he forged the fire too early to get out of her control. He is using the people around him as a means to an end, manipulating their thoughts and views on Wukong to pit them against him as a form of revenge.

And still… he is a Gryffindor through and through and that loyalty brought him back to working with MK to save the world from LBD. The people of his past always claim he was a coward but he was brave at that moment, he could’ve easily just dipped into the shadows and never show his face again after the Samadhi Fire was forged but instead he went back as MK and Nezha followed Wukong in his fight against LBD, he saved MK, he grabbed the Mayor for more information, he stayed tied up even though he can easily get freed, and he heard MK out. Even still, he stayed after LBD, hiding away in FFM, he gave MK some courage to make his own choices, he complained but saved Wukong from the scroll anyway, and fought his biggest hater and proved himself. He may not fight for Wukong’s sake anymore, but he did it for MK. He sacrificed himself so they can get away and save the world in season 5, he absorbed the chaos from Xiag Liu’s magic to give Wukong a chance to get to the pillar to stop MK with the knowledge that Wukong would throw himself there instead.

If that isn’t brave I don’t know what is.

Then there’s Wukong…

Although his life isn’t much of a mystery, we can read the actual Journey to the West if we want info about his life, but we don’t know how much LMK changed in regards to that, the brotherhood thing was different in the show, the Samadhi Fire too, so how much creative liberty did they give Wukong? We don’t know because despite being a crucial character, most of Wukong’s past and his friendships aren’t laid right in front of us.

From Macaque and Azure’s words, Wukong is selfish, used those around him, and overall, wasn’t the person they thought he was. We don’t see specific examples of those moments except for the confrontation under the mountain with Wukong and Macaque but from what we have seen during flashbacks, Wukong was always egotistical and ambitious, craving attention from other people and doing things just because he wanted to. He’s a cheeky little cunning monkey, although his cunning is’t like Macaque’s more calculated one, it’sm ore on the spontaneous side. Going for the Jade Emperor the second time after the Havoc in Heaven doesn’t seem so out of character but looking at it, Wukong at the time was nervous and fidgety, insistent and adamant that they were going to win.

Slytherin.

How he acted in flashbacks and how people viewed him is so confusing since we haven’t seen things in Wukong’s perspective at all, which makes the tragedy of his character so good. Him being a Slytherin makes a good sense story wise since Slytherin’s are known as great leaders and tend to have a more leader-like role, being the king and all that. He also searched far and wide to look for immortality achieved it, and even dared to go against heaven for not acknowledging his ambitions, all the things he worked for to be one of the strongest and we can’t forget the stereotype of Slytherins being evil, with the Journey to the West being all about redemption, having him be a Slytherin makes sense.

Throughout the journey though, he started to act more and more Gryffindor like, a complete opposite to Macaque. We don’t see it, however, since the show loved to show us nothing about Wukong’s past with the pilgrims, but we can observe that Wukong definitely did change his ways, he became more of a hero than a menace, and although he still has that bad reputation amongst demons and celestials alike, he has grown to be selfless, another trait Gryffindors tend to have. He has grown so much as we can see in season 3 more as he slowly starts to own up to his mistakes, not faulting MK if he ever sees him is a bad mentor or a bad person in general for his past. He also has thrown his body in front of MK multiple times in the show to protect him, being a steady pillar for MK to lean on when things get rough, teaching him all that he needs to know as his successor, trusting MK more than he trusts himself, that level of loyalty towards the kid is so strong that he was willing to sacrifice himself in MK’s stead.

And it fits.

A Gryffindor acting more Slytherin like.

A Slytherin acting more Gryffindor like.

It fits with the show portraying the monkeys as two sides of the same coin.

These analysis aren’t perfect, of course, most of it is speculations and my own personal opinions, but I hope you like it!!

TLDR: MK is a Hufflepuff, Mei is a Gryffindor, Red Son is a Slytherin (and a Ravenclaw), Tang is a Ravenclaw, Pigsy is a Hufflepuff, Sandy is a Gryffindor (and a Hufflepuff), Macaque is a Gryffindor (and a Slytherin), and Wukong is a Slytherin (and a Gryffindor)

#lego monkie kid #lmk #lmk wukong #lmk macaque #lmk mk #lmk mei #lmk pigsy #lmk tang #lmk red son #lmk sand #hogwarts houses #i had fun with this one #dont take my word for it tho

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