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peachylynnie · 23 days ago

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wolf in sheep's clothing

word count: 2k

synopsis: in which xavier acts innocent despite his not-so-innocent touches.

contains: xavier x mc!reader (early established relationship), he kinda gaslights you (but with no bad intentions really), freaky xavier (not smut tho), suggestive themes, mentions of violence and death, and cussing.

a/n: i had to write for my second favorite lads man at some point. i read somewhere that the official chinese description for xavier is "wolf in sheep's clothing," (don't quote me on that; i could be wrong) and i wholeheartedly believe he is. do NOT copy or translate my work. xavier does NOT endorse plagiarism.

you're convinced your boyfriend is a wolf in sheep's clothing. sure, his pure cerulean eyes and tender voice might convince you otherwise (they did at first). but, with the way xavier's been touching you, you're sure of it. your boyfriend is a wolf in sheep's clothing, and you have the evidence to prove it. countless pieces of evidence, actually. but let's look at the most memorable ones, shall we?

evidence #1

"welcome home, starlight," xavier greets you with open arms and crinkled eyes. your heart can't help but swell at the sight. nothing compares to seeing your boyfriend in a cozy white sweater after opening the door following an exhaustive day of battling wanderers. you swear you were this close to losing it after dealing with lemonette's stupid limes for what seemed like hours. yet, xavier, in all his ash-gray-haired, blue-eyed, soft-spoken glory, takes your pains away with just one simple gesture of welcoming you home.

"hi, xavier." you fall into him, basking in the warmth of his tight embrace. you could honestly die a happy hunter from this. "i missed you."

xavier chuckles, pulling away so he can look at you properly. "i missed you too," he caresses your face. "i missed you so much." he crashes his lips into yours, ardently seeking your taste, your scent, your everything.

you're taken aback by xavier's sudden fervor. but, you return the favor by opening your mouth, eagerly granting his tongue entrance. it's not the first time your beloved boyfriend has initiated such a passionate kiss. after all, you two love each other very much, to the point you're willing to die for each other. a kiss like this is natural to come by; you're blissfully used to it. what you're not used to is what xavier does next.

he weaves his fingers into your hair and tugs.

"ah!" you pull away, panting with wide eyes. what the heck was that? he's never done that before. why did he do that? it felt so good.

xavier blinks at you innocently before asking, "you okay?"

"uh yeah," you stutter, trying to process what just happened. "i'm okay. are you okay?" seriously, is xavier, your puppy-like boyfriend, okay? why did he pull your hair? by no means did it hurt. it was a single, firm tug, yet it did so much, as evidenced by your shortage of breaths and clenching of thighs.

xavier smiles brightly and nods. you close your eyes, expecting him to resume the kiss, totally not hoping to feel his slender fingers pull on your hair. instead, this motherfucker he pecks your cheek and walks away, yawning. "i'm sleepy," he has the audacity to rub his eyes. "let's go to sleep, yeah?"

your jaw drops. did he seriously just suggest you go to sleep?! staring at your boyfriend, you expect an answer for his confusing behavior. xavier blinks innocently, again. "you sure you're okay, starlight?"

you frown, growing even more confused. he's not dumb. you know he's not dumb. heck, he's the association's best hunter. there's no way he doesn't know what he's doing to you. you sigh and shake your head, concluding that perhaps xavier was just caught up in the heat of the moment and was genuinely tired. after all, he battles wanderers too, even more than you. "yeah, i'm okay, xavier." you walk past him and towards your shared bedroom, trying to relieve your mind of certain thoughts. "let's sleep."

unfortunately, you don't catch the amusement in xavier's eyes when you bid him goodnight and turn off the lights.

evidence #2

"how's the food?" xavier asks, whispering into your ear.

beaming at him, you nod excitedly. "it's great. nothing like hotpot with friends on a cold night, right?"

indeed, little to nothing compared to spending time with xavier and your fellow hunters at your comfort restaurant. you and xavier were shoulder to shoulder, sitting across from tara and nero. everything was perfect. the food tasted amazing, your friends were enjoying themselves, and most importantly, xavier was right next to you, with a hand on your thigh, of course.

you don't mind in the slightest. it's assuring, actually. the warmth his touch provides adds more to this delightful atmosphere. content from both the food and the mood, you can't help but rest your head on your boyfriend's shoulder. "thanks for being here, xavier." you murmur.

xavier smiles softly, resting his cheek on your crown. "of course, starlight."

you giggle, nuzzling into him. you love it when he calls you that. "starlight." though, you can't help but feel it should be you calling him that instead. like an actual starlight, xavier shines brightly wherever he goes. from hunting hundreds of wanderers to protecting hundreds of civilians, xavier illuminates the world and you can't help but be blinded at times. not that you mind. you would gladly be blinded by him a million times over if it meant being in his presence.

"okay, that's enough, you lovebirds," tara teases.

you roll your eyes playfully, lifting your head from xavier's shoulder. as much as you would like to stay there forever, you understand the occasional nagging that comes with public displays of affection. hoping to sit up properly, you go to cross your legs. with a click of his tongue, xavier grips your thigh, hard.

yelping, you jolt in your seat. immediately, you cover your mouth, embarrassed over the borderline wanton noise you just made. you stare at xavier, mortified. what the fuck was that?

"are you okay?" tara says your name in concern. she tries to reach over the table, but xavier stops her by handing you some napkins with his free hand and adding another squeeze to your thigh. it's taking everything in you not to squeal.

"she's okay," xavier answers, smiling innocently. "she just spilled some broth, right?" he turns to you, expecting you to follow along.

"yeah," you answer shakily. "sorry, just got a little clumsy, i guess." after pretending to wipe yourself with the napkins xavier gave you, you down a glass of water, hoping to relieve the heat in your face and also in between your legs. you're not sure what is happening anymore. he's never gripped your leg before, let alone touched you so roughly. it felt so fucking good.

for the rest of the night, xavier continued to squeeze your thigh, leaving you a flustered mess. it was torture having to sit through the gathering without making any noise. every so often, when tara or nero wasn't looking, you looked at your boyfriend desperately, begging him to stop (not really) or at least provide an answer for why he was doing this. instead, he would just inch his hand higher and flash that damned innocent smile. by the time the waiter came back with the paid tab, xavier's hand was threatening access to your hip joint. you're not sure how he made his arm look like it wasn't doing anything.

after bidding tara and nero goodbye, you immediately drag xavier outside. "what was that?" you ask impatiently. the freezing air was doing absolutely nothing to cool your heated face, and you're not sure if that pissed you off more or xavier's calm expression.

xavier tilts his head to the right, feigning confusion. "what was what?"

you're want to scream so badly right now. "that!" you snap as you motion to your leg.

xavier tilts his head to the left, gathering his lips into a pout. "i just wanted to massage your leg since it seemed sore from training."

what the fuck? dumbfoundedly, you stare at xavier. there's no way those squeezes could be called a massage. but looking at his pouty face, you can't bring yourself to argue. well shit, now you just feel like a pervert.

you sigh, taking xavier's hand and heading towards the car. "thanks for the massage, xavier."

you miss the smirk growing on his face. "anything for you, starlight."

evidence #3 (happening right now, send help)

"whatcha making?" xavier cutely asks as he wraps his arms around your waist.

you were at the kitchen counter of your shared apartment, rolling some dough with your flour-covered palms. "i wanted to try making some pizza," you answer, entirely focused on the task in front of you. "i saw a tutorial on tiktok. seemed simple enough."

xavier hums, burying his face in the crook of your neck. you giggle, feeling him inhale deeply. it's the quiet and domestic moments like these that make you imagine another life where you and xavier aren't hunters. just people free from the constant dangers of hunting wanderers and protecting civilians. you sigh, reaching across the counter for the tomato sauce. at the end of the day, you and xavier are evolvers. having an innate ability means protecting those who can't protect themselves, even if it means risking your lives. but, both you and xavier can agree the look of relief on people's faces when reuniting with their loved ones is worth the risk.

the tomato sauce is within reach until you jump back into place. why? oh, because xavier's right hand is inching towards the waistband of your panties. "xavier!" you turn around immediately, facing him with widened eyes and flushed cheeks. "what are you doing?!"

you've had enough. the last couple of weeks have been a literal hell with how much your boyfriend's been teasing you, filling your head with dirty thoughts, and acting as if he doesn't know what he's doing. it's as if he's purposely avoiding following through with his actions, not giving you what you fucking want even though he's the one that's been initiating things. not to mention, his hand is still in your pants.

xavier rests his left hand on the counter, pinning you in place. your breath hitches, feeling him rest his forehead on yours. "i'm sorry," he sulks. "i just wanted to touch your belly button."

"stop lying," you say immediately. "last time i checked, my belly button is NOT at my fucking panties." you don't care if you sound harsh. you want xavier to answer for his crimes—crimes being leaving you hanging and making you question your sanity.

xavier chuckles. this motherfucker he dares to chuckle while you look at him with furrowed brows and twisted lips. "it's not funny," you scold. "you've been weird the last few weeks-"

your breath hitches as xavier dips the tips of his fingers past your waistband. holy fucking shit. what is this man doing?! "x-xavier?!"

he doesn't answer. instead, he presses short yet sensual kisses all over your face, slowly trailing down to your neck. you try to stop yourself from whimpering.

"you know," xavier mumbles. "i've been waiting for you to say something." he continues to mouth at your neck, causing you to squirm.

"s-say what?" you ask trembling. fuck, you think you just felt his tongue peak out.

"oh, i don't know," he switches to the other side of your neck. "something like 'xavier please' or 'xavier more'" and with that, he returns both of his hands to your waist, lifts you up effortlessly onto the kitchen counter, and dives straight into your lips.

"xavier! mmph!" there was flour on the counter, meaning there was flour on your pants now. "you're making mmph! a mess!"

"that's not what i want to hear, starlight," xavier shakes his head as he pulls away from you. "it's like you want me to stop."

his fingers rub slow circles into your thighs, causing you to writhe uncontrollably. so this is why he's been acting so fucking teasing the last few weeks. he wanted to do things with you—take your relationship to the next level. but you had to be the one to say it. why? you're not sure. maybe it stroked his ego or something. you don't care anymore. you're pent up from xavier's antics, and all you want right now is for him to follow through. if saying "please" and "more" is what it takes, so be it.

you grab xavier's shirt collar, legs wrapping around his waist and pulling him to you. his eyes widen at your sudden rough actions. but there's a hint of amusement in his eyes, teetering on the edge between curiosity and arousal. though nothing could prepare xavier for what you do next.

"xavier," you whisper into his ear, stroking his nape with your index finger. "can you please give me more?"

xavier inhales sharply, his grip tightening around your thighs.

"i thought you'd never ask, starlight."

#this took longer than i wanted #it's fine #anything for xavier #xavier x reader #xavier x mc #xavier x you #love and deepspace #xavier love and deepspace #love and deepspace xavier #lads xavier #lnds xavier #xavier fluff #love and deepspace x reader #love and deepspace fic

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kisses4reid · 7 months ago

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understand? pt. 1 | ·˚ ༘ spencer reid ,,

summary - you’re a polyglot translator assigned to work for the bau in a cross-national case, and there’s a doctor who wants to impress you.

genre - fem!reader, SHE/HER r, fluff, meet cute, you know more than spencer and he’s attracted to that

warnings - you're both awkward, mentions of gross case file photos, little research about polyglots actually done so there are inaccuracies, cliffhanger for part 2.

w/c - 1.4k

a/n - thank you for the req anon!! there was multiple parts to this but i really like the first idea so that’s what this fic is about, might keep the other idea for later hehe. i did change some aspects. love you, thank you for the support <33 there will be multiple parts!!! stay tuned!!!

req - hi pia 💞💝🩷💓 how r u? i hope you’re feeling wonderful! this is my first time requesting smthg i apologize if i get something wrong! i’ve been having 2 thoughts about spencer x fem!reader, where reader is a russian translator and idk they meet cute or she has to work with the bau helping them on a case. just wanted to give these ideas to you, obviously feel free to do anything with them! i really enjoy your work and your writing is incredible! i have your notifications on so i am always reading whatever you post! have a great day pia 💝 lots n lots of kisses for u!

This was not what you expected.

You, a woman in your late twenties that spent most of her time in a room listening to voices and decoding foreign messages, didn’t know what you expected. But this: a scary boss, an italian old man, and a skinny college kid, was not it.

“Y/n L/n? I’m Aaron Hotchner, the unit chief, and this is Agent Rossi and Doctor Agent Reid.”

You nodded your head, thick hair covering your top eyelashes as you glanced at the men. Agent Rossi shook your hand, and Dr Reid simply stood and gawked at you. To be honest, it made you worried. You had been warned this was a close knit team, that they trusted each other more than anything and that you shouldn’t get attached to any of them as you’d only be assisting them for one case.

Maybe they just didn’t warm up to new people.

“I’ll do your formal introduction to the rest of the team now, if you’re settled down.” He asks cooly. You like the way his voice rasps, it’s assertive yet comforting.

“Yes, of course. I can’t wait.” You smiled reassuringly at the unit chief, not ignoring the raised eyebrow you received from the silent young man now behind you.

Aaron Hotchner, your new boss for the next week or so, lead you to a large room with a circular table sat in the middle. There were two other women, one blonde and one raven haired, and another bald man that glanced at you immediately after you entered. They smiled at you and trailed your steps to where you stood beside the unit chief in front of a large TV screen.

“Everyone, this is Agent Y/n L/n. She’ll be assisting us with the Becker case you’ve all been informed of. She’ll mainly be our translator and interpreter, but she’ll also be useful for cultural identifiers and anything that we wouldn’t notice otherwise.”

You nodded along, never being a fan of introductions since you moved to America as a small child.

“This is JJ, our liaison, Agent Emily Prentiss and Agent Derek Morgan.”

The ladies smiled at you, in fact all of them did. They were surprisingly open to the fact you would be joining them, the fact made your shoulders loosen and a breath to be let out discreetly.

Next, you were on a long plane flight to Maine with Agents you had known for little under two hours, conversing about victim profiles and motives. The table in front of the ladies and your boss was strewn with victim files and gruesome photos. And while you weren’t a stranger to the dangers and violence the job brought, you had gotten comfortable with only hearing about it and not seeing it. So you opted to hover around the table and stay silent, you weren’t a trained profiler after all, just a translator.

There was a wave of cologne that disrupted your senses, causing you to angle your head back, only to be greeted by the tall doctor.

You smiled softly, assuming the closeness was due to the aeroplane's arrangement. Also because you got the vibe that Spencer didn’t like you.

“Are you okay? You seem uneasy,” he asked. It was the first time you heard his voice. And it was as adolescent as you imagined for someone so young, but it had a sophisticated edge to it, with a honey-like undertone. Finding things in voices as if they were perfumes was something you unconsciously started to do since working as a translator.

“I’m fine.” You grinned reassuringly, turning back to focus on the team’s findings.

Spencer furrowed his eyebrows slightly and stepped away, sitting down beside Morgan who had taken a seat at the back. Morgan squinted at his friend, noticing the rare confusion splayed on his face as he stared in your direction.

“What’s up? Pretty girl got your tongue?” Morgan removed his headphones with a cheeky smile displayed on his handsome face.

“For someone who specialises in languages she doesn’t talk much.”

Morgan smirked, “Maybe not to you.”

“I didn’t do anything wrong though.” Spencer ripped his gaze off the back of your head.

“You’ve been staring at her since she walked through those doors. You were so distracted you didn’t even greet her this morning.” Morgan pointed out. Spencer tilted his head confused, a small blush creeping up his neck. “I watched the whole thing from the conference room, so did JJ and Emily.”

The tall boy slumped in his chair and forced himself to look out of the plane’s window, avoiding a reply to Morgan as he knew it would only result in more teasing. You were physically attractive, everyone could see that, but the thing that caught Spencer’s attention was your intelligence. He was no stranger to being a polyglot, he learnt languages for fun, but you were simply next level. Morgan studied Spencer’s face for a second before raising his attention to your hovering state. “Agent Y/n L/n.” Morgan called, causing Spencer to widen his eyes and immediately adjust his slumped position in his plane seat. You turned your head in surprise, slightly confused why you would be needed anywhere else than the files you had been translating for the past two minutes. Your heels were silent against the carpeted floors, but Spencer could sense your presence anyways.

“How many languages do you speak?” The stoic man asked, his eyes darting between you and the doctor below you. You were not short, your genes didn’t allow for it, but you had noticed you were only taller than JJ and Rossi in the team and it felt foreign to not tower over everyone. “Um, I speak 8 languages fluently, and 4 languages semi-fluently.” You stated, readying to turn back to assist the team before Morgan spoke up once again

“Did you know that pretty boy can speak Spanish and German?”

Before Spencer could help himself, he corrected the man, “And Latin and Russian,” Spencer turned his head up to you, “But I can understand more.”

You smiled, genuinely impressed and confused on how a man that young could learn that much. But to be fair, you were in the same boat. The nickname got your attention, locking it in the back of your mind to remind yourself that the people you were working with did in fact have senses of humour, and weren’t just heartless officers. There wasn’t any reason to think that though, as you had been cared for with respect and even Prentiss made a funny remark beforehand. It sort of felt like a family dinner you were intruding on. “That’s impressive, Doctor Reid.” You reply genuinely.

“I mean it’s nothing compared to you though,” his voice was pitched slightly higher and his hands started motioning to nothing in particular, “your brain is constantly changing from high activity to low activity when you're translating from one language to another. Your language network, the lateral frontal lobe, is constantly lighting up and dimming down depending on what language you hear, ordinary people’s language networks only turn on and off.”

Morgan smirked and glanced up at your intrigued and surprised expression. You nodded, a small blush coating the tips of your ears as you responded, “Thank you.” You didn’t really know what else to say, which is funny for someone who understands so many languages, so you simply smiled and turned back to the table. Spencer slumped again, watching you walk away and asking himself why he would inform a pretty girl about her own brain, when she most definitely already knows about it.

“Don’t worry too much, Reid.” Morgan called, grabbing Spencer’s attention. The boy raised a brow, not understanding. “She digs it, I can tell. But she’s just like you, knows how to speak in a million ways and still doesn’t know how to small talk.”

You landed without any more awkward interactions, and got introduced to some sheriffs in Maine, one of them giving you a tighter handshake than the rest and a stare that could only mean unpleasant things. It wasn't something sexist or creepy that lingered in his eyes, it was more like hatred. Spencer took the sheriff's attention away from you after noticing what the whole team did, and asked him to show him the records they kept at the precinct.

Emily Prentiss came up behind you and placed a hand on your upper arm, squeezing it like she understood what you had thought you'd seen. Out of everyone else in the team, she would understand the most.

taglist (open!!): @jeffswh0re @reap3erslov3 @candyd1es @0108s22m @aurorsworld

#criminal minds #spencer reid #cm #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid oneshot #criminal minds imagine #criminal minds fluff #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid x fem!reader #dr spencer reid #criminal minds fanfic #bau team #criminal minds fanfiction #spencer reid fanfic #🍵 —☆ pia’s pages

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nascentwaves · 2 years ago

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Looks like Let's Go! Rush's code goes up to DUNE, surprisingly enough.

#ooc #reverse engineering stuff #might be able to get the menus translated too #since it's possible to change the encoding for language #otherwise even if you replace text with english text it breaks a lot of other text etc #lgr might be a fun thing to tinker with when all's said and done #moreso than link evo that's for sure #if all goes well i'll get swordsoul implemented in dotbr too

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fiercynn · 1 year ago

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poetry outlets that support a free palestine

after finding out that the poetry foundation/POETRY magazine pulled a piece that discussed anti-zionism because they "don't want to pick a side" during the current genocide, i decided to put together a list of online outlets who are explicitly in solidarity with palestine where you can read (english-language) poetry, including, except where otherwise stated, by palestinian poets!

my criteria for this is not simply that they have published palestinian poets or pro-palestine statements in the past; i only chose outlets that, since october 7, 2023, have done one of the following:

published a solidarity statement against israeli occupation & genocide

signed onto the open letter for writers against the war on gaza and/or the open letter boycotting the poetry foundation

published content that is explicitly pro-palestine or anti-zionist, including poetry that explicitly deals with israeli occupation & genocide

shared posts that are pro-palestine on their social media accounts

fyi this is undoubtedly a very small sample. also some of these sites primarily feature nonfiction or short stories, but they do all publish poetry.

outlets that focus entirely on palestinian or SWANA (southwest asia and north africa) literature

we are not numbers, a palestinian youth-led project to write about palestinian lives

arab lit, a magazine for arabic literature in translation that is run by a crowd-funded collective

sumuo, an arab magazine, platform, and community (they appear to have a forthcoming palestine special print issue edited by leena aboutaleb and zaina alsous)

mizna, a platform for contemporary SWANA (southwest asian & north africa) lit, film, and art

the markaz review, a literary arts publication and cultural institution that curates content and programs on the greater middle east and communities in diaspora

online magazines who have published special issues of all palestinian writers (and all of them publish palestinian poets in their regular issues too)

fiyah literary magazine in december 2021, edited by nadia shammas and summer farah (if you have $6 usd to spare, proceeds from the e-book go to medical aid for palestinians)

strange horizons in march 2021, edited by rasha abdulhadi

the baffler in june 2021, curated by poet/translators fady joudah & lena khalaf tuffaha

the markaz review has two palestine-specific issues, on gaza and on palestinians in israel, currently free to download

literary hub featured palestinian poets in 2018 for the anniversary of the 1948 nakba

adi magazine, who have shifted their current (october 2023) issue to be all palestinian writers

outlets that generally seem to be pro-palestine/publish pro-palestine pieces and palestinian poetry

protean magazine (here's their solidarity statement)

poetry online (offering no-fee submissions to palestinian writers)

sundog lit (offering no-fee submissions to palestinian writers through december 1, 2023)

guernica magazine (here's a twitter thread of palestinian poetry they've published) guernica ended up publishing a zionist piece so fuck them too

split this rock (here's their solidarity statement)

the margins by the asian-american writers' workshop

the offing magazine

rusted radishes

voicemail poems

jewish currents

the drift magazine

asymptote

the poetry project

ctrl + v journal

the funambulist magazine

n+1 magazine (signed onto the open letter and they have many pro-palestine articles, but i'm not sure if they have published palestinian poets specifically)

hammer & hope (signed onto the letter but they are a new magazine only on their second issue and don't appear to have published any palestinian poets yet)

if you know others, please add them on!

#poetry #free palestine #fuck you poetry foundation #palestinian poets series

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anime-owo-kage-san · 24 days ago

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Trying to translate everything Ragatha said while she was high:

“She’d rather be with the NPC than with us, or something.”

Tranlation: “I’ve been nothing but nice to her, and even forgave her for abandoning me, and she goes and shows compassion to someone who isn’t even a real person.”

….. ….. …..

“Why are you even the boss, anyway? I feel like I’m way more responsible than you.”

Translation: “I’ve tried to be positive for everybody, and make sure they’re comfortable. And yet Caine saw leader material in you? I should’ve been in charge for all I’ve done.”

….. ….. …..

“I like… hate you. But I don’t want you to hate me. Is that weird?”

Translation: “Is it wrong that even though, I’ve acknowledge you’re a horrible person…. I want you to see me as a good person? To feel like I’m the better person….?”

….. ….. …..

My impression of Ragatha so far (past episodes included):

- She’s used to talking to people in a way were they’re like kids, because she normally uses her charm and positivity in people younger than her. They normally work, and she’s used to being acknowledged by others with her sweet personality.

But in the circus everyone is a grown adult (even if some of them are a little immature—ahem—Jax). And with most of them accepting that there’s no hope in that world, Ragatha’s peppy spirit has no effect on them. But she’s too used to being successful in getting through someone with her personality, so she kept the act up until it’s mostly an ‘act’ now.

Without realizing it, her attitude has become toxic positivity. It doesn’t work on anyone, but it is affecting her. Pomni thanking her in episode 3 was probably the first time in a while someone showed appreciation to her caring nature. Seeing Pomni go to Gummigoo just reminded her that she only acknowledged her once, and had shown more empathy to someone who won’t even remember her by the next adventure (Gummigoo’s expression says otherwise, but I’m talking in Ragatha’s pov).

Her saying “I wish someone would flirt with me…” was more of her wanting to be recognized for who she is. That one ‘thank you’ she got from Pomni was appreciated, but wasn’t enough for her. (This is talking outside of shipping ofc. We’re still free to use this for shipping purposes hehehe)

Additionally, as soon as Caine gave them an adventure where someone needs to take charge. Like a BOSS. Ragatha felt some sort of jealousy that she wasn’t chosen for the responsibility.

#the amazing digital circus #tadc #ragatha #pomni #tadc ragatha #tadc pomni #the amazing digital circus ragatha #the amazing digital circus pomni #tadc ep 4

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honestsycrets · 2 years ago

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Stung | [Miguel O'Hara x Reader]

❛ pairing | miguel o'hara x reader

❛ type | oneshot

❛ summary | after a discus malfunction, you're bitten by an anomaly and refuse medical attention. you're in a state that you refuse to show to miguel-- at all costs.

❛ tags | NSFW, sex pollen, mention of a wound, slight chase, miguel o'hara doesn't like to be ignored, cum eating, creampies, abnormal amount of fluid, venom bite, slapping, some insecurity, spanish is not translated, sexual memories.

❛ sy’s notes | my obligatory ABO-sex pollen fic for ATSV. i usually make a ABO/Sex Pollen piece per fandom I write in, so here's one for Miggy 🐝

“All done!”

You slipped out of HQ’s packed infirmary with a jaunty bounce in your step. Crispy, coppery blood was matted onto your forearm concealed behind a hastily tied bandage. You weren't concerned about it. It would resolve within the hour. Likely less. As would your elevated body temperature. Despite the doctor's prattle about the benefit of further testing, you found their concern to be a non-issue. These things were virtual non-issues, even if the doctor and your man thought otherwise.

The hallways at HQ were like any other day in your city. Congested with the coming and going of spiders in their daily lives. A glimpse at any group might reveal decadent flirting and haughty laughter. Some were in a rush to their own worlds, but most were completing work assigned by the Spider Society. The one you were looking for reclined against a wall with his arms interlocked one over the other. His displeased rumble prompted you to his presence above all other voices in the crowd.

“You should have let them run the tests.” His voice was teased with concern but became mild, little more than a drab sigh at your refusal. You blew off his concern with a shake of your hand, gone yellow and bubbly behind a bit of ineffectual gauze. His eye glazed over the wound. You couldn't tell what he was thinking behind his mask, but you didn't need to. You only needed to convince him you were right.

“It’s stopped bleeding, Miggy. It’s just a scratch,” You held up your arm, flicking it with emphasis. His eyebrows raised for a moment, then flattened, staring at you with a dull rictus. “It was just a brief malfunction of the discus.”

Technically it was more of an impalement, but if Miguel wasn’t going to ask, you weren’t going to invite him to delve deeper. Otherwise, you might spend the next few hours of your life fixing a wound that surely would have closed up by the time results were back. The injury site mildly itched. That was all. Never mind, the slight, honey-colored rash migrating from the puncture site to your elbow. Or the referred pain. Minor things.

“You’re being stubborn.”

“You’re the one to talk.” You snapped the discus free from your sash and chucked it toward Miguel. He caught it with an unsurprising amount of ease, claws clicking in unison against the ineffectual metal.

“¡Qué problema!” he mocked, his voice dry and absent of discernible emotion.

You closed the distance between your bodies to slide your arms around his broad neck. His other hand came to your lower back. It was warm, the way he touched you, from the bundles of affection that fluttered in your belly to the heat dappling across your chest. You missed this every day. It made fleeing the infirmary all the more worth it.

“I put the anomaly in another discus. One that actually works, no thanks to your programming.”

“That’s what happens when you take things without asking.” He flicked the discus between his thumb and index finger, waggling it for emphasis. It was true that there had been nights that went with banging, clacks, clatters, and the occasional outburst when things weren’t quite going his way. There were a few discuses on his desk. You just so happened to take the one that malfunctioned. “I was working on it. ¿Qué era?”

“Oh,” you mumbled. “Just some stingy bees. What harm could they do?”

His eyes roamed your wound. You couldn't help but look down too, both horrified and fascinated by the way the rash had moved in just a brief few minutes. The colour had begun to fade. You glanced up, flattening your mouth into a slight, forced smile.

“Fine. If you're sure.”

To be fair, you secured many anomalies with and without the help of others. They all went into their cozy, temporary forcefield homes until they could be fairly redirected to their appropriate dimensions. In the downtime, you could help or hinder Miguel's progress. Then, your watch would alert you to another disturbance and the cycle would continue.

Until that morning.

Your watch blared, and blared, and blared some more. The early morning sun began to rise and cast offensive beams of light into your room. Usually, it didn’t bother you. But this morning, everything offended you from the scratch of silky sheets on your naked body to Lyla illuminating what darkness was left, all golden and cute. You wondered if that was how Miguel felt when you forgot to pull the curtains, strung out on the bed after he finished with you.

“Woah! Oops!” she turned, covering her eyes with her spindly fingers. A growing ache throbbed between your legs. It wasn’t quite the same dull soreness from Miguel’s late-night visit last night, either. “Sorry, sorry. Miguel--”

“He can handle it,” you bit out, snappier than you intended. It wasn't like you. “Or-- Jess. No, Gwen. Gwen can do it, she loves--”

“He asked for you.”

Of course, he did. You scrunched a pillow over your head. Your Miguel couldn’t see you this. Absolutely not. You debated getting up, ignoring what you called a negligible ache that was quickly morphing into a terrible pounding. You can't believe how quickly the thought fell apart, pushing yourself to sit up in bed. The ghost of his scent floods your nose, flashing memories of the night before.

Something at work set him off. Something that commanded no intimacy, but the mechanical release of his rage that wouldn't destroy precious resources. He sat on the edge of the bed, driving your mouth onto his cock with the aid of your hair bundled around his fist. You recalled the shakiness of his thighs under your fingers, his firm legs spread wide fucking your mouth with cold abandon. He chased his own orgasm selfishly, needing the release, needing to see your body painted by whips of his cum sprayed across your exposed breasts. He pulled you off in silence, inspecting the drool and cum that spilled down your chin and throat in rivulets. "What--"

Your face tightened, glancing down at the growing tension in your belly. Everything began to annoy you, especially the scratch of the sheets against your skin, your bed empty of his presence. How could you tolerate that uniform plastered to your ass? You buried into the offensive bed. This was fine. This was normal, recalling what you'd done last night. Surely, the burn had to do with the whole being launched through not one, but two crumbling buildings the day before. The dust and rubble. Were you close to your cycle?

“Tell him I’m dead,” and without another word, you resolved the call. Within seconds she popped up again, bent at the waist because this was your life now. Never could you just… take a day off. There was always something. You muffled your screams of protest into the mattress and dug your feet in, kicking off the sheets, the blankets, the pillows, all of it.

“Is this a fit? You’ve never had a fit before,” Lyla noticed. A fit? She thought the burning of your body was a fit? Damn AI. Resolve.

Resolve. Resolve. Resolve.

It became cathartic after a good while. Or it would have been if not for your senses hyper-fixating on every minor change in your body. Despite your apprehension, you knew. What was once a dull pain radiating from your forearm morphed into something much worse. Something you couldn’t blame on the rather average experience of being pelted through the average event of windows and concrete. It was more than a tingle. It burned as it coursed through your body.

You stumbled over the bundle of bedding into the bathroom. It was there that you realized that to your horror, you weren’t just lubricated, now you were soaked. Your fluids coursed down your thighs as you dabbed the region clean with a bundle of tissues. It did little good. Touching the area exasperated the issue. Maybe you needed an orgasm, maybe ten. An hour or so later, you slammed the heel of your palm into the mirror, fracturing it into shards of terrible glass that crumbled onto the countertop. Beads of blood dabbled onto your reflection.

“If you d--” resolve.

So not a reaction to your average bee sting. Correction. A great, big, fat colony of hissing, buzzing bees. The act of recalling information was like jamming your hand into fluid water to snatch a tiny hair tie. No matter how many times you tried to recall the information, you couldn’t quite grasp it. It was there, floating around your head, but inaccessible. Your mind traveled back to Miguel. How gentle his lips could be, trailing soft kisses along your neck and shoulder when you rode him in reverse. How deep he'd go.

"Fuck off!" Your watch blared again. Its beeping filled your bathroom, echoing over and over. You reached behind the door to pluck a silky white slip from its hook and dragged it over your head. You were about to resolve the call again when the hot timbre in his warm voice saying your name gave you pause. Your Miguel, popping up in a golden haze. You found yourself gazing at his full lips, full and plump. If only he was here. He could have his lips on your--

“What are you doing?”

Lost in thought, you failed to realize that Miguel had been calling you by name again. You shook your hazy mind free of the thoughts that formed a swirling cloud over your head. You slumped down the wall and onto the floor.

Help was what you failed to say. As your mouth opened, nothing came out. The words were not wording. The vulnerability of asking for help was palpable. You soothed yourself by shifting your hands underneath your skirt. What would he think if he saw you here-- ripped asunder by your own biology? Whore. Miguel lowered his gaze, his eyes squinting at the sweat dabbling down your neckline as he looked you over. He wouldn't want you anymore.

“Are you listening? ¡Coño! What is wrong with you!?”

Resolve.

You resolved him. Your Miggy-- resolved. Oh, you swallowed dryly. He wasn’t going to be happy about that. It wasn’t a matter of if Miguel would come for you. It was a matter of when. When he had time to separate himself from trashing-- whatever was the closest object to him in the lab-- to take out his rage on you. You reached for your medicine cabinet. You had more important things to worry about. First on the list? The searing heat.

Your watch was better off tucked away in a chest in the closet.

Night came with no solutions. You crouched on your window sill, chest rising and falling. You sought to stare at anything but the mindless buzz of the tv screen inside. Even with light pollution, some stars winked in the distance. Your body was a bundle of warm heat, buzzing with irritation after a fruitless day of soothing your body. You grew accustomed to your pert nipples against your silky slip, the lubricant coursing down your leg. At first, denial. Now, acceptance. You thought tomorrow might be better.

You felt his presence before you heard, smelled, or saw him. Through the sea of scorched sensations battering your senses, there was one that stood apart. A tickle that niggled at the back of your head. It could have been anyone, but you didn’t have to guess to know who it was. “Lyla."

“You haven’t called him all day,” Lyla squeaked.

“Called all-- I answered his call!” Your dress was matted to your body, cloaked in an abhorrent amount of sweat. It was only minutes ago that you retrieved your watch confident that you could bullshit something, anything, for a few days of reprieve. You jammed your shaking finger to resolve the call.

“Not all of them. Miguel was worried.”

“Worried! Lyla, that is not worried,” you spat. That was your Miguel, scaling the side of your apartment. His talons cracking the siding of your apartment. The reverberations spiraled up your legs, sending waves of anticipation lapping at your core. After your long day, you weren't sure how you were still somehow upright. With every crack of his talon into the brick siding, you were running out of time to come up with an excuse.

In a bid to escape, you fell into your room. The hard floor knocked the breath out of your dry lips. You stumbled onto your feet and supported yourself with a bookcase of less than half-read books. “Lyla, he can’t see me like this!”

“Then tell me what’s going on,” she popped back up. “C’mon, you can tell me, it can’t be that bad.”

If her tone was playful in some half-baked attempt to neutralize your fight, the threat was imminent. Your hand connected with the top of the window, applying pressure to close the window. A hair too late. At the same time, Miguel’s clawed hand curled around the bottom of the window sash. You were too slow for the man who excelled with power, speed, and efficiency. You weren't going to win this fight. Not with your body threatening to crack at the very sight of your man's strength.

Though you saw him nearly daily, he always took your breath away. His sinewy body was always a sight, his suit accentuated his thick and fine cut. You moistened your lips, longing to run your fingers through his thick dark brown hair as you did every night. You caught his sharp gaze a second longer than you should have.

“Open up,” he whispered coolly.

He was a distraction. The wind was not on your side either, blowing wisps of his scent into your overwrought senses. His natural musk mixed with the sweat of a hard day's work. Somewhere in there, bitter blood. You could smell the caramelized scent of the flaky, buttery empanadas and hot coffee you shared the day before. It gave you pause, his intoxicating smell and the sultry trill of his voice. But you couldn’t let him see you, not like this.

“Oop, there he is. Just checking on you,” Lyla chittered. Resolve.

“Miggy, please go away,” you sobbed in frustration, shifting to shoulder the window. “Why are you so stubborn!?”

“It’s who I am.”

The window cracked all at once. With mere milliseconds to respond to the sash careening into the upper rail, you whirled past the bedroom door. Miguel broke into a run behind you with long strokes of his legs. He made contact, sending you barreling into your lazy sapphire couch from the impact. You saw stars for a fraction of a second before you lurched on your palms and elbows, scrambling off of the couch and across the floor. His hand caught your ankle and dragged you underneath his body.

“¡Ay!” you bit out. “No, no no no. Miggy!”

“¡Callate!”

His hand wrapped tightly around your throat to force complacency, pinning you back to the hardwood floor. Your palms slammed onto his chest, drawing lines down his chest. Bits of pathetic electricity fizzled on his broad, muscular chest, a consequence of your fading focus. That focus was eviscerated when Miguel threw his hips flat against your core. Your frantic fidgeting against Miguel soothed some of the terrible, buzzing pressure rattling between your legs like warm honey on a sore wound. The ache for his relief became more important than the impulse for substantial breaths.

“Don’t move. Why are you--”

“I can’t help it,” you cut him off, straining against his large palm to stare at his crotch. His gaze fell on yours, following the path to his soft cock. His eyes widened with the sudden attention. Tears threatened to spill over from your eyes, pricked with spikes of pain. "It's too much!"

You ate your shame with his body crouched between your legs and his large palm choking the air out of your throat. The influx of air not only brought your scent, but your day-long desperation to fix what you believed was wrong. He could smell it now. He could see it now. He could hear it in your voice. He knew why you failed to answer his calls. The violent jabbing of the resolve button. Throwing your watch into your cramped closet to ignore the calls. The pheromones that soaked your apartment. It was unavoidable.

“You can’t help it,” he repeated. Miguel considered you with razor-sharp eyes, nearly as sharp as the talons that rescinded into his arms.

"I'll see about that." His hand left your neck to reveal bundles of bumpy shivers that soared across your skin. He raised his finger to wipe away the wet tears that fell from your flushed cheeks. Then dropping lower, Miguel chased the thin straps of your gown with his claw and slid the offending fabric off of your breast. The nub was as hard as it had been hours ago when you twerked the nipple between your fingertips and dreamed of Miguel.

“You’re...” he cupped your breast in your palm and massaged your nipple with one sharp twist of his thumb. The gasp that left your lips wasn’t one you were proud of. Your undulating hips that ground down on his cock weren’t entirely unwarranted. You needed it. "Hot. As if you're in heat."

This couldn’t be happening. From a ball of rage to one of arousal, he released a tiny amused chuckle. You spent much of the day in different parts of the apartment with your hand, toy, ice, and water into your body to soothe this terrible ache. So Miguel wouldn't see you like this. It was this moment you sought to avoid after your long day: The moment of Miguel's disapproval. Now he laughed at you.

“Happy?” you sobbed into the forearm that kept Miguel stable. “Go away, someone else could use your stupid help.”

“Don’t you need me?” Miguel dipped his head down. Strands of his dark hair tickled your hypersensitive skin. With the lightweight fabric of his suit, pressing your cunt back against his clothed bulge felt wonderful. You bit your lower lip and watched his cock jut against its fabric. You lifted your puffy eyes to his gaze and found a wicked gleam there. He knew it wasn’t enough contact for the pressure and painful spasms to abate. Deep down, you knew that Miguel was your only hope for relief. Who else could, or would, you call in this condition? Mostly because Miguel always fixed everything.

"Miggy," you murmured. After this pitiful display, he wasn't rejecting you? Your mind flowed weightless and light. The terror of your day faded under his careful caress. In its place, comfort that he would take care of you.

“Don’t you?” His hand snaked between your folds and found it soaked wet, the low throbbing of your pussy palpable. He retracted his fingers and spread the sticky fluid between his thumb and middle finger. At some point, silence became better than an answer. Miguel brought his hand down on your cunt for a sharp slap. Bundles of nerves cried out under the abuse. It shook free a squeal from your lips, bitten raw by the pressure of the day. Your head bobbed into a mechanical nod as to save yourself from another slap.

“You know how to ask. It’s si Miguel, por favor Miguel.”

You needed the warm sensation of his cum. But making those words proved too difficult. Your canines pierced bloody holes in your lower lip. You clawed up his forearms, trying to leverage and force him closer. Miguel grabbed your shoulders and thrashed them back down onto the floor. You felt bad for the downstairs neighbors.

“Say it.”

“Miggy,” you looked into his eyes. They were blown wide, nearly fully black with a thin outline of scarlet, chasing the outline of your exposed breast. For all his talk, you realized he wasn't immune. Even with his face tight, his eyes focused on the same thing you needed. Maybe, all this time, you were baiting Miguel with half-assed answers. They were invitations. Invitations to come to fill this need you had. You would be lying if you said that wasn’t what you wanted this whole time. Finally, you had him where you wanted him.

Miguel broke eye contact first. He cupped his plush lips around your nipple, suckling the breast taut and wet. You cried out in surprise and arched into Miguel’s mouth, enticed by the fangs that grazed your nipple. As quickly as he came, he was gone.

You lurched up, palming Miguel's dick through his pants. His hips bucked into your palm. He refused to make any sound as he considered your next movements, releasing Miguel’s cock from his suit. Impatience and need coalesced into your brave movements, sliding your palm against him. He was impossibly thick and hard, dribbling at the tip. Miguel huffed a small noise as your palm ran over him. You dared to call it a moan.

Miguel sneered and shoved you back onto the floorboards. “I’ll only tell you one more time. Ask me properly.”

"You do too, don't you?" You giggled. A noise that grated his ear. With the belief you wouldn’t bolt, Miguel shifted back onto his knees. You wouldn’t. There was nowhere left to run. Not that you even wanted to, fat and hungry off Miguel's growing desperation.

"Come here." He snaked his hands underneath your knees, dragged you close, and pushed them to your chest. Your eyes fluttered shut. Moments later, the sensation of his thick dick sliding against your engorged folds forced them back open. It gave you just enough relief through the pulsing pain to look at him with your hazy eyes. From this angle, you appreciated how large Miguel had gotten. His round cock-head bobbed and crested over your mound as it rubbed against your aching clit. His face was trained, focused. He wasn't going to relent first.

The nagging pressure never abated. You sought something more, something better, the sensation of being filled. With every glide, you squeezed your walls in protest to his absence. Your hips protested the restriction of your movement, shimmying against the firm hold he had that kept you in place. You wanted more than that. You wanted true relief from his teasing. Miguel drew back to inspect the fluid over his fat shaft as held you down. You gave in, whining at him like a brat.

“Por,” you scratched his forearms. “Por favor, Miggy. You don’t know what it's like.”

“All fours-- face down.”

The cacophony of desire battered and overcame any other human emotion you could have. You complied, crawling onto your fuzzy indigo rug for what came next. Miguel’s gloved hand skimmed across your ass, middle finger skimming toward the center. He followed up his gentle touch by reeling back his hand and cracking it across your ass, searing the nerves alive. Once, twice, and then a third. Tears pricked your cheeks again, a consequence of your nerves being overwrought and now assailed.

“Miggy!”

He shushed you with fervor, another thwack beating the jiggling flesh hot and red. Your legs trembled under the weight of his slaps. “Ignore my calls again and you’ll get much worse.”

“I didn’t-- you wouldn't want me,” your lips parted in defense of what you’d done. Miguel dipped down to spread your folds, rolling his index finger along your pulsing walls. Your body drew him in, squeezing and urging him forward. Your swollen walls were impossibly tight, straining to bring him in more and more.

"You know I do."

The need for more devoured any other thought, any threats of what he’d do next time. You rolled your hips to ride his hand. In place of a slap, Miguel slid another finger slid in beside the first to stretch your walls open. He faltered at your next words and slid his fingers free.

“Not like… not like I need you.”

“Who decides that?” he pressed on your upper back to force it down. You complied. Miguel stumbled forward, finally pressing his thick head to your pulsing entrance. His round head pressed, just barely, into your wet hole. You clenched down, inviting him into your warmth. You weren’t sure he’d actually give it to you. It was so damn close.

“You do, Miggy,” you murmured, pushing back. He watched as his shaft slowly disappeared into your body, your apprehension of retaliation rendered you too slow to finish.

Miguel snatched your waist and forced you to take the rest, a soppy squelch lubricating his shaft. The sound that slipped from your lips was entirely uncouth, punctuated by his unforgiving thrusts. Your walls strained around his cock. No matter how many times you took him, the drag of his cock and slap of balls against your body always felt somehow like the first. It filled that ache-- the consistent burning need to have him here, inside of your greedy body, scratching something that you could not itch all day. It’s what you wanted.

“That’s right, I do.” Miguel rumbled, short, punctuated thrusts beating your clenching cunt into complacency. The pleasure ruptured through your cunt-- battering his dick in response. He let loose a sharp grunt followed by a string of curses. Your sweet release spilled over his dick and balls, dripping down your thighs. Your legs threatened to shook, but Miguel was unwilling to allow your trembling legs to give out.

"Ah! Miggy!" His fangs punctured your shoulder to force you to stay in position, his pelvis stuttering against yours. His growl punctuated the warm, soothing cum that soothed your walls like warm honey over a wound. Your walls milked him free of his cum, spasming in response to his orgasm. He pieced himself together against your back, pulling his fangs free and settling a soft kiss over the burning wound on your shoulder. As if he hadn't been the one to tear his fangs into the crook of your neck.

“You’re not letting go,” he hummed in annoyance. He turned his attention down to your ass, ghosting his fingers over the healing bruises over your backside. You squealed, jerking forward. He followed you forward, punching a hole in the floor by your side. “Fuck, don’t move!”

You cast your attention back toward Miguel. He huffed forcefully out of his nostrils. He motioned toward your ass as if it were obvious-- your walls were clamped over his cock, unwilling or otherwise unable to let him go, as if he had any more cum to give in that current moment. You took it all.

“I. I didn't-- I can’t--”

“Yeah, I know. That Bee venom does that. Mine should neutralize it.”

At some point, you murmured. It sure as hell wasn’t doing it now, keeping him seated into your cunt that bubbled with the mixture of his and your release. “You knew about it? I could have died!”

Miguel chuckled.

“You wouldn’t. You’re too stubborn to die,” he sighed, fiddling with his watch. The tests-- that you never had ran. Ones that he suggested. Ones that you refused quite openly. “Why would I deny myself the fun?”

His cock slipped free. Your hips dropped and fell slack against the floor. You weren’t proud of the cum that oozed out of your ass over your decimated room, nor the fact that your useless neighbors hadn’t called for help once. Not that you needed it-- but still. You palpated your stomach, slightly distended. Miguel bent down and gathered the mixture of your bodily fluids on his fingers, suckling his own fingers dry. You watched his wet tongue swirl around his fingertips. It wasn't fair.

“Fun? What fun!? Do you know how long I-- You’re a mean man, Miguel O’Hara.”

He lurched over, his breath tickling your lips. He kissed you, salty and sweet. Your nose scrunched up, pouting against his lips. He left the room for the kitchen, fetching a wet cloth to clean his body with. He zipped himself back into his suit shortly after and dropped the sodden cloth by the cum puddling under your ass.

“Never said I wasn’t.”

#miguel ohara oneshot #miguel o'hara x you #miguel o'hara oneshot #miguel x reader #miguel ohara x reader #miguel o'hara/reader #Miguel ohara/reader #atsv imagine #atsv x you #atsv x reader #atsv imagines #miguel o'hara imagine #miguel o'hara x y/n #across the spiderverse imagine #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o’hara smut

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dwaekkicidal · 3 months ago

Text

𝖪𝗂𝗇𝗄𝗍𝗈𝖻𝖾𝗋: '𝖠 𝖶𝖾𝗅𝖼𝗈𝗆𝖾 𝖨𝗇𝗍𝖾𝗋𝗋𝗎𝗉𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇' ༄࿔ H.J.

⤷ Role Reversal | Bondage [Restraint] | Deepthroating

♱ word count: 1.8k

♱ warnings: gn!reader, role reversal (usually dom!han is more subby & usually sub!reader is now more dom), daddy kink, messy oral (m receiving), deepthroating, lowkey is both exhibitionism and voyeurism, minho helps you ‘dom’ han but doesn’t participate much otherwise, bondage/restraining, idk if i consider this a three some but... maybe?, slight mxm cause there are a few neck kisses from minho to han, minho also calls Han “Jagi(ya)” (like honey/baby)

♱ notes: han jisung hmu. the kids miss u.

Kinktober Schedule

DO NOT republish or translate+post my work!

Han had been stressed out of his mind for the last few weeks. Between the constant filming and the filled schedule for the comeback, he was exhausted out of his mind. To the point where he had even forgotten that he invited you over one night, opting to nap on the couch “for a few minutes” and deciding to call you after that nap.

You walked in, using your spare keys that both men insisted you should have, and spotted your lover on the couch, sitting upright with his head lying on the top of the sofa. He looked so peaceful yet also a mess at the same time.

The sight initially made you giggle and snap a quick photo or two or five, but after the initial reaction, you remember how much of a rough time your boyfriend was having. So much so that he had fallen asleep on the couch and was still wearing his stage outfit, despite the fact that it was already dinner time.

Part of your heart ached at this, but the other half realized what you could do to help your worn-out lover. All you had to do was mix his high libido with the lack of sex you two had over the last few weeks and boom! A genius plan, if you do say so yourself.

So you quickly found yourself spreading his lifeless legs apart and settling yourself between his knees. Your fingers traced the metal of his sliding buckle and eased it open, your eyes constantly on his face and watching his expression for any signs of him waking up.

You managed to pull his pants and his boxers down to the midway of his thighs before he even flinched, but it wasn’t enough to wake him up all the way. Still, to be safe, you waited until his body relaxed again to get to work.

Your hands ghosted up the bare skin of his thighs, your fingernails lightly scratching as you traced over them and left goosebumps in their wake. His dick twitched, already coming to life despite how little you had done and the fact that he was still asleep.

He even managed a whine out the back of his throat, making you smile to yourself as you slowly pumped him until he was full mast with precum dribbling out of his tip. He was always so messy…

Your thumb rubbed over the hole of his tip, spreading his precum all over it as you leaned forward. Your tongue poked out and licked from his base up to his mushroom tip, making sure to lick roughly around the sensitive area on the underside of his cock.

It twitched again as you wrapped your lips around him and took him into the back of your throat. Your eyes forced themselves closed as you gagged once, then twice, and pulled off. You didn’t need much time to recuperate and his legs shook around you as you took him into your mouth again.

Your eyes found themselves on his face again, immediately noticing the furrow in his brows as well as the slight part in his lips. You purposefully moaned around him, the humming vibration causing his face to contort for a moment.

“Mmm… Baby..” Your lips twitched in a smile as best as they could while you bobbed your head and you rewarded him by humming around him again. With this, he finally showed some signs of waking up: his hips bucking up into your mouth and his hands moving on their own to rest on his thighs.

You looked up just in time to see his eyes cracking open, staying narrowed and filled with sleep as he looked down at you. His hands quickly found their way to your hair, tangling between the strands and just slightly pushing down. Your cheeks hollowed and you held eye contact as you sucked harder, one of your hands even sneaking down to play with his balls. He sucked in a breath and his jaw slacked with a sigh.

“Baby… What are you doing- Ah!” Your other hand snuck up under his shirt and laid flat on his chest, just above his tattoo, and rubbed his nipple with your thumb. His thighs twitch around your shoulders trying to close as all of the combined sensations build up his orgasm quicker than either of you imagined.

His thighs tensed and he screwed his eyes shut as he came without warning, his moans filling the living room as he lightly fucked your mouth. Both of your hands moved to his hips where you pushed him down, making him stay still as you continued to bob your head through his high and even still after.

“S-Shit, wait! Baby, no-” His fingers tightened their hold on your hair and his body shivered as the overstimulation ran through his body. But a sudden visitor cut him off before he could say anything more.

“Am I interrupting something?” Han gasped and whipped his neck to the side, his eyes falling on his best friend who stood in the hallway with a few empty dishes in his hand.

“H-Hyung! I- shit! Baby wait-” His eyes rolled into the back of his head as you continued sucking despite the new presence in the room. Minho chuckled to himself, setting the dishes he had just eaten off onto the kitchen counter and making his way over to the couch.

“I think he wants you to stop, honey.” Minho’s feet planted by your ankles and he replaced Han’s hands with his own, pulling you off of the younger boy who was all but vibrating in sensitivity. Han’s chest heaves as he attempts to catch his breath.

“Nuh-uh.” You frowned up at Minho as he craned your neck all the way back, forcing you to look up at him from an uncomfortable angle. “He likes this- We.. We spoke about it. He just can’t handle it ‘cause he’s so sensitive and can’t dom me if he’s overstimulated.” You smile to yourself at the reminder of this exact conversation you had with him just a few weeks ago.

Minho’s eyebrow cocked up curiously and his eyes fell back onto the boy before you, face red as a tomato and palm covering his mouth. Then they fell down to his cock- still rock hard and dribbling the proof of his orgasm. He let out a breathy laugh in disbelief before releasing your head.

“Get to it then. I’ll help you out.” Han’s cock twitched and he whined loudly from behind his palm. Minho made his way to the back of the couch where his veiny hands wrapped around the younger man’s wrists, pulling them away from his mouth to instead pin them to the back couch cushions.

“This ok, Jagiya?” Minho leaned down to Han’s height, whispering into his ear and blowing teasingly against it.

“God, fuck- Please!” His hips bucked causing his cock to poke you in the nose. It made you laugh a bit before you wrapped one hand around his base, pumping him as your other hand rested on his upper thigh.

“Suck him off again- I’ll keep him in place for you.” You smile and nod, looking up at your boyfriend under your eyelashes and leaving him with a command, your one last act of dominance before your throat becomes occupied.

“Be a good boy for me and Min, okay Daddy?” The younger man immediately groans, rolling his head back and frowning. “F-Fuck you.”

You tsk and shake your head at him. “That’s not very nice.” You wrap your lips around him once more and suck harshly. Han squeals in response and squeezes his legs around your shoulders again. Minho laughs and puts both of Han’s wrists into one of his own hands, now using that free hand to push down on his pelvis, holding him down for you and teasingly rubbing his thumb around Han’s stomach.

You continue to run your tongue up and down Han’s cock and you occasionally take him into your throat, making a scene to gag around him repeatedly until thick saliva pooled in your mouth.

You pull off to catch your breath, coughing a few times as you continue to pump your boyfriend. A string of saliva connects you to his dick and you smirk with a new idea. He has always liked it messy and loud, so why not give him messy and loud?

You take the spit that has been pooling in your mouth and sit up on your knees, using one hand to hold his dick upright as you hovered right over his dick. Both he and Minho watched with heavy breaths as a glob of spit fell from your swollen lips, falling right onto Han’s tip and immediately dripping down the rest of his length.

Han keens at the sight and finds his legs shaking as you start pumping him and running your tongue over his tip, causing a loud and almost obnoxious squelching noise to fill the room. The older man has to use more force to hold Han’s hips down and he laughs as he does so.

“You gonna cum, Jagi? Gonna cum down their throat, yeah?” Minho runs his nose down the younger’s neck, his hot breath ghosting over and causing Han’s stomach to clench. His moans heighten a few pitches and his breaths grow uneven and frantic.

You hum around him and hollow your cheeks, your hands resting on his thighs and holding them apart as you take him to the hilt. Your throat constricts around him a few times and you hear what sounds like lips smacking. Then, he fills your throat again.

Han’s legs and hips shake as he cums, his nails digging into his palms and his voice cracking as he teethers the line of screaming. Your nails lightly scratch up and down his thighs as he cums nonstop down your throat, stomach caving in and leveling out as he continues to breathe frantically.

You pull off once he's finished, being cautious not to rub against him too strongly in case it is too much. As you do, you’re met with the sight of Minho placing kisses along your boyfriend's neck. Instead of jealousy, you can’t help but only feel desire.

“You two look so hot right now.” Your whine makes Minho laugh into his neck and he pulls away, hands also loosening their holds on his wrists. The older man stands upright and massages Han’s shoulders, easing the man down from his intense orgasm.

He doesn’t stay there long though, quickly making his way to the bathroom where he grabs a handful of tissues for cleaning. By the time he gets back, you’re sitting beside Han. Your hands caress his cheek as the two of you make out and he can feel his hard-on aching at the sight.

“That was fun!” He blinks and your lips are caught between your teeth as you call him over, pulling him to take your spot on the couch as you take the napkins from his hand. “Mmhmm. Good job you two. Especially you, DaDdY~” Han groans and rolls his neck.

“S-Shut the fuck up!”

Taglists: (red=can't be tagged)

@valkyriexo @lunearta @jabmastersupriseee @rylea08

@yaorzu-blog @amararosesblog @jiminssluttyminx @clemissleepy

@miss-daisy04 @kittyxnoa @dwaekkiiracha @bubblerizz

@mariteez @fun-fanfics @honeyybbuubblleess

@dreamingaboutjisung @everythingboutkpop @velvetmoonlght @4l17h4

@felixsangelicfreckles

#sian’s writing #stray kids smut #stray kids imagines #stray kids x reader #stray kids x reader smut #skz smut #skz imagines #skz x reader smut #skz x reader #han jisung smut #han jisung x reader #han jisung x reader smut #han jisung imagines #han smut #han x reader #han x reader smut #han imagines #sian’s 2024 kinktober <3

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ashkabbom · 1 month ago

Text

Temporary stresses - Mouthwashing

A/n: I disappeared but I'm back. I finished school and I'm officially on vacation 😋. I had another idea initially, but then I gave up writing to Curly with that one.🎀 Tell me if I wrote something wrong, English is not my first language and I use a translator a lot.

I wanted a story with a happy ending, although it wasn't supposed to end 100% like that 😭

Versão em português no wattpad: Livro de One Shots - Mouthwashing (Conta: ashkabbom)

•Captain Curly x Fem!Reader

Summary/Synopsis: You hate being emotionally raw and your husband has been acting strange lately.

Notes: I wrote this with a happy ending, but in situations like this stress can actually be very dangerous, so be careful if you are going to do this to someone or if you are the person to receive this one day.

You were uncomfortable, to say the least.

It had been seconds, minutes, HOURS, since he had answered you, he avoided you whenever he could! The worst part is that you don't know the reason for all this, even though you told him to tell you when something was bothering him.

He's been acting kind of strange since yesterday. It seemed like you were the only one who was out of touch with all that nervousness and discomfort.

You had been a bit paranoid for some time now, because of these attitudes you didn't know if you had done something and it was eating you alive.

Searching through all your memories and finding nothing you realize you did wrong. Maybe he just got tired?

"I did everything like I always did..." You were rambling on to yourself. Maybe you said something wrong? You know very well that words, no matter how simple they are sometimes, can hurt.

This was all giving you a huge headache and leaving you a mess of emotions. You were just too exhausted.

You were out of the house now, on your lunch break from work, messing around on your phone for a few minutes, more specifically texting your husband, hoping he would answer you like he always did.

He didn't answer you properly, the messages were short and seemed more direct than ever, your husband didn't write and talk to you like that. God, you just wanted to go home.

"You've got that look on your face again." You hear your co-worker, Linda, say and let out a sigh. "What happened now?"

"This is the fourth time we've seen you with that sad, sullen puppy face in the space of 15 minutes," her other friend, Charlotte, says..

"Do you think I'm old?" You ask suddenly.

"What happened to 'Hi friend, I missed you too'? It doesn't exist anymore?" The first woman says.

"Exactly, calm down. You're not old, you're perfect for your age. And old age comes to everyone! It's inevitable." The second friend explains with a raised eyebrow.

"But now it's so different... When we met I was different, my hair, my body... My age..."

"Girl, seriously, what happened? You haven't had these low self-esteem spikes in months, you were so happy" Charlotte says with a sad tone, sitting down next to you.

"That's the problem, I don't know what happened... Since yesterday Curly has been acting a bit strange, avoiding me and being vague at times, but at the same time he's been very short and direct." You think about what your morning had been like that day.

"Oh my, don't be like that, men are a mess all by themselves. I'm not going to put ideas in your head, but let us know if you need help with that." Linda says, running her hand over your back.

"You're still as beautiful as the day you met, so don't worry. If he's going blind and can't see it, take the trash out of your house before it starts stinking up the whole house" Charlotte says, making it clear what she originally meant.

"I just don't know if something happened and he didn't tell me, if I did something and he was uncomfortable..." You love your husband with all your heart, otherwise you wouldn't have married him.

"Girl, put your cards on the table and that man against the wall, if something is going on he will tell you, he is not a lying man" Charlotte advises you in a lighter way now.

"She's right, you have to talk to him, but really talk to him. Just starting a conversation with him won't make him tell you anything... Ask what's going on and if everything is okay." Linda hugs you affectionately. Honestly, maybe this stress is just in your head? You don't know.

"Okay okay, but I'll do it after work, there's still a few more hours until it's time to leave." Grumbling you and your friends get up, heading towards the door while talking about anything now.

You don't know what you would do without them.

Hours had passed since that conversation, it was already getting dark and you were driving home almost completely peacefully.

Being with your friends relieved you a lot, but you still had a little bit of a nagging feeling, not to mention that you also knew that life is not a strawberry and anything can happen.

You were together for 11 years, dating for 4 years and married for 7 years. There was no reason for it all to go down the drain. At least you told yourself that.

You had texted him earlier, saying you were going home now... He hadn't even seen the message, but that's okay! Sometimes he's just busy with... Anything, you think.

Parking the car, you sigh, You hated feeling as tired as you had been feeling lately, you wish you could enjoy some of your time at home instead of just passing out in bed. On the bright side, you were on vacation from your job in 2 days. Just two more days.

Today you would confront him! You would know what was going on with him lately and everything would be okay! Everything has to be okay.

You open the door to the living room and notice the loud silence, seeping through your entire house. You didn't have a good feeling about this..

"Curly? Love?" You call out as you walk through the door and into the room, feeling a little anxious.

You turn to the kitchen and then–

"SURPRISE!" Some voices say/scream at the same time, scaring you at first, but then you notice the cake on the table, balloons, birthday hats, coxinha and other things on the table.

A wave of relief washes over you.

It was your birthday today.

"Happy birthday my love, you don't know how much- Wow, hey, hey! What happened? Why are you crying?" Your husband's cheerful tone soon fades, quickly replaced by a tone of concern.

You hadn't even realized that the wave of relief had brought you to tears, you were crying.

Did something happen? Is she okay?" Anya, Curly's work friend and maid of honor at your wedding a few years ago, asks worriedly, approaching.

"Honey, is something hurting?! Do you need anything? Anything at all? Do you need to go to the hospital?" He was quick to come closer, putting his arms around you as he checked your body with his tender and concerned gaze. God, this was all you wanted.

You try to explain, through your tears, that you're okay, that everything is okay now.

"I thought-" You stop to sniff a few times "I thought you were mad at me. Acting different and distant."

"I told you you sounded thick, but it's amazing how your head doesn't work sometimes." You hear Swansea's voice and let out a laugh through your tears.

"I'm so happy that everything is okay and that you're not mad at me." You explain as you wipe away your tears, soon feeling Curly's hand on your cheek while the other rests on your waist.

"I'm sorry my love, I would never be mad or upset with you, a thousand apologies darling" He says as he peppers your face with kisses, apologizing several times. "Please, I'm so sorry"

"We told him to hide it and not tell you or give you any hints about your surprise party and such, since last time he ended up telling you... But I think asking him to disguise himself wasn't... the best idea" Daisuke says as he analyzes the situation with a disappointed face.

You laugh a little and soon they join you, then a small silence arises, but it is quickly broken.

"So?" Swansea begins

""Is everything okay in there?" Anya asks, looking at you calmly and with a little concern. "Are you feeling any pain?"

"How are you and she?" Daisuke asks in the most direct way.

You sniff one last time and look down, running your hand over your belly.

"I will never make you cry like that again." He finishes with a peck on the lips and runs his hand over your belly. "I will never worry the two girls in my life again. I promise"

You look at him fondly. "We're fine, we just went through a hurricane today and yesterday." You laugh lightly. "Now let's eat this cake, I'm hungry for two."

The others laugh at your answer and soon everyone gathers around the table to celebrate your birthday.

You really hope you never have to go through that worry again, not even Curly would do it again.

You have the most caring husband and your daughter would have the best dad.

#mouthwashing #mouthwashing x reader #captain curly #curly mouthwashing #anya #anya mouthwashing #daisuke #daisuke mouthwashing #swansea #swansea mouthwashing #captain curly x reader #curly x reader #curly

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gladiatorcunt · 3 months ago

Text

- GUESS | XIII.

you wanna guess the color of my underwear, you wanna know what i got going on down there

cw: kinktober prompt (ass worship), yoga trainer!oikawa, fem reader, rimming, body hair, scent & piss mentions, light implied yandere, public sex (?), hinted possibly one sided iwazumi x reader, light dub con, mentions of fisting, implied that oikawa’s been into reader from the start, semi obsessive behavior, porno plot, self degradation, food play mention

please do not repost, translate, or feed this work to ai

kinktober 2024

“Mmh, just like that cutie, lift those hips up for me.”

You’ve been coming to the new yoga class that just opened up at the gym for a while now, a couple months a few times a week, you’re a bit of a homebody otherwise and yoga is the one physical exercise you don’t mind doing often. You like being flexible, able to bend your body in shapes and ways another person would have a harder time doing. And you’re not having sex, so any physically strenuous activity that leaves you sore until you’re put back together by your healing body does wonders for you.

Plus you like the way the leggings hug your well endowed assets, so do a lot of the men in the gym. You wear the form fitting workout clothes for yourself first and foremost, but you can’t lie that a little attention from afar (sometimes too close up by one of the trainer’s usually steps in to help you) boosts your ego. If there’s one thing in life you have to be proud of, at least you have your ass. Squishy and round, jiggles when you walk and never disappoints you unlike everything else in your life.

The same ass that’s raised high in the air in front of your yoga trainer, a more than handsome man in his late 20’s with wavy milk chocolate colored brown hair and a smug twinkle in his eye that’s connected to his smarmy always on his face (even when he seems pissed) grin. You’ll never forget the confidence in his posture, standing tall at the front of the class and introducing himself. Tooru Oikawa, just moved here from japan, his best friend owns the place so it wasn’t too much trouble to get hired, and SO excited to start this journey with you all!

You’ve stayed at the back since then, anxiety swirling in your belly when he’d make the rounds to correct your forms and check on you all. But he’d only pass by with a brisk touch to your back and a ‘good job’, maybe a semi solid pat if you were one of only ones who had a good form, and not to brag, but that’s been the case on more than one occasion.

Now you’re undergoing a little one on one session, he asked you to hang back, noticing you’ve been holding yourself back. You’ve never made much of an effort to talk to him and despite the fact that you’ve never needed this kind of focused attention, he’s been feeling a bit bad that you keep to yourself so much. He doesn’t bite you know, not unless you want him too.

It’s an odd flirtation, something you’ve noticed he never does with anyone else in the class. Oikawa’s attractive enough that you’d balk at him abusing his privilege to drown himself in quickies in the gym’s showers, as off putting as it’d be. But he’s very professional, chuckling at one of the older women making a pass at him and politely turning her down.

So you got in your own head and knew that since there was always room for improvement, surely there must be something he could help you with. So here you are, going through basic poses first before he pushes you into the more advanced ones. You told him that other than increasing your flexibility, you weren’t really sure what other areas would be best for you to get better at.

Oikawa smiled and squeezed your shoulder, no worries, he’ll walk you through a little assesment mini program. Since you mentioned not having done yoga seriously until now, there could easily be something you didn’t even realize needed to be attended to!

“Remember, we want to really feel that stretch, arch your back and lower your head. Breathe in, breathe out.” He instructs, settling a wide palm on your lower back. “That’s it, good girl.”

He’s so close, if you backed up to regain your footing your ass would press up against his bulge. Not that you can tell if he has one right now, but you’re kind of hoping he does. It’s just another part of the fantasy, that’s all this is, you tell yourself. You’re going to soak up the attention, make more small talk as you gather your things and leave, and sit at home suffocating your vibrator until your legs turn into jelly.

“Am I doing this right? My legs feel stiff.” You shift your weight from side to side, your hips gently sway, you could be too in your own head but having Oikawa’s pretty eyes scrutinizing every detail of your body is fucking with your confidence.

He hums, a trail of heat sizzles down your back as he slides his palm down to cup your hip. “If something seems off then it probably is, just widen your stance and put your feet further apart, loosen up your hips. You’re definitely a little tense, cutie.”

Okay so he’s definitely flirting with you, but you don’t startle and shoot back up so you can get out of here. Instead you internally cringe at the squeaks your yoga mat produces, adjusting your ankles to line up more with your shoulders. You keep breathing, in and out, letting your energy flow through your limbs as you maneuver them into the different positions.

Oikawa Tooru burns like a furnace in hell, you realize. Despite having a firm grip on your hip, he’s standing a respectable distance away from you as you bend over. You can still feel the heat radiating from him, his sleeveless muscle tank and his black shorts.

“I think that’s better. Sorry, it's hard for me to relax, I guess.”

“No worries, I totally get it, you do seem like the type to be wound up but that just means we get to unspool your thread and unravel you so we can get to the start and rebuild.” His free hand curls around your other hip, his thumbs absentmindedly stroke the crease where they disappear into your thigh.

This private coaching session is steadily becoming what you’re afraid of, and so horny for you could shoot off into the sky like a soda bottle chocked full of mentos. You didn’t notice when Oikawa got even closer, his blunt hip bones cradling your ass in between them. Could he just be weirdly, and grossly in most people’s eyes, friendly? Does he even see what he’s doing as being the tentative first step into fucking you in a public gym yoga studio?

“Um, yeah, thank you by the way. I’ve felt so much better since I’ve started taking your class, you’re a lifesaver even if I still have a lot to learn.”

“Oh, we all do, including me, believe it or not. I remember you from back then you know, so shy and fidgety, like a baby bunny.”

“You’ve really filled out too. Excuse me for saying this but I know this ass wasn’t always like this, so pretty and plump.” Toned hands drag over the swell of your cheeks, not digging in and kneading the globes, only ghosting their touch along the clothed flesh.

You subconsciously wiggle your hips, Oikawa’s breath hitches behind you, and that is perhaps the most monumental thing you could have achieved today. Flustering the man who gets hit on a billion times per day and gives it back tenfold, a competition of who can keep their cool, that’s how he operates in most things you guess. Like he’s always competing against somebody even if they don’t know, and he just has to win or it’ll be an ugly spot on his record. A record only he keeps and only he sees, but you sense that that’s more important to him than anything else.

“Oh, thank you. I just do a lot of squats every morning and every night after class, nothing crazy. Yoga’s the only other kind of workout I do consistently, anyway.” You're still in what feels like a perverted version of downward dog, briefly taking stock of the strain in your legs now trying to hold the position.

Oikawa makes a surprised sound, “Really? You have such a great body, I’m shocked you’re not a gym rat like me and all my buddies. Some people are just lucky, huh cutie?”

He says it, humble and charming, like he doesn’t also consider himself one of those people. Your cheeks heat up at the idea of a musclehead like Oikawa complimenting your curves, your chubby gathering of fat even in places some people would find ugly, your wideset bones and plush tummy.

A pin drops, “Alright. I think you’ve been in that position long enough, why don’t you go ahead and lower your knees into the table top pose, bring your head up slowly and remember to breathe. In, out, good girl.”

His hands guide your hips down, he steps back to let you settle your knees on the mat. You hear the foam sink behind you, he’s sort of kneeling too, halfway sitting on his legs, the backs of his feet facing the ceiling. Oikawa looms over you like this too, he has a presence you can be lost in before you actually see him, which you definitely can in the wall to wall mirror in front of you. The yoga class was a dance studio before Iwa decided it didn’t fit with his vision, you remember Oikawa telling you all on his first day.

He must feel your wide eyed stare, because he looks up too and suddenly you’re locked in a charged moment.

Neither of you says anything as his feather light touches on your ass become firmer, he’s outright groping you and pulling you back to be flush against his crotch.

He grinds his half hard bulge against you, keeping eye contact with you through the mirror.

“I can’t believe it’s taken you this long to notice me, cutie. Been wanting to do this for so long, you have no fucking idea.” He huffs, adjusting his clothed cock to rest between your cheeks. “You’re so hot, every time I saw you bend over I wanted to cancel class and take you right then and there.”

You gasp and rock back into him, shaking your hips and digging your knees into the mat. You have half a mind to look around the room for the camera and porn filming crew but reality is clearly stranger than fiction, your hot yoga trainer’s stiff cock is sandwiched in your ass crack.

He takes his sweet time dragging his length up and down, the tip catches in the divot of your leggings where your hole is, you’re a little disappointed that he’s not humping you like a rutting dog but you suspect that that’s part of the fun. Oikawa knows you want him so bad that he’ll restrain his urge to fuck you through the floor all the way to the center of the Earth just so you can endure some teasing. You’re so shy and withdrawn but those girls are usually the best kinds of freaks, all he’s doing is bringing it out of you, call it another one of his famous coaching methods.

The door’s locked, so if Iwazumi catches on to what’s happening and tries to rain on your parade, he’ll have to listen to a symphony of moans and slick sounds of bare sweaty flesh slapping against bare sweaty flesh. Oikawa laughs and tells you that Iwa’s been eyeing you too, when you check in at the front desk, when you’re getting water, when you head into the changing rooms to get ready for his class, it’d be helplessly cute if you weren’t already taken. Or, you’re gonna be, at the very least.

“When we’re done, I'll clean you up with my tongue and we can go on a little date. I can take you out properly this weekend but I'd hate for you to think that I was just trying to hit and quit it. I’m not the type to pump and dump, not anymore.” He speaks into the divide of your ass cheeks, having sunk to floor fully and doing some bending over of his own to be at eye level with your lower half.

You bite your lip when he starts nipping at you through your leggings, he smiles into the fabric and bites down harder, soothing the sting with slow licks. Oikawa kisses all over the swell of your behind, sniffing the scent of your perspiration and your body oil in between, medicinal vanilla and natural musk. You can see him hump the mint green yoga mat as he reaches up to hurriedly tug your leggings down enough to expose your ass. Your black thong frames it perfectly, but Oikawa pulls them off too and stuffs them under the waistband of his shorts.

He groans at the sight of your bare skin as it bounces free to say hello, taking a handful of each cheek and squeezing the life out of them, the thick flesh bulges between his fingers so he swiftly smacks each one, for tempting him and making his cock so hard it could explode into a blood filled mess of cum and sticky pubes in his pants. You cry out, rocking forward only to be immediately pulled back so he can keep kissing your ass.

He dotes on it like he would your face or mouth, almost giggling before and after quick pecks that develop into long slurps at your rim. He runs the tip of his nose over the hair on your crack, wetting it in messy swipes of his tongue.

“You taste so fucking good, baby, better than pastry i’ve ever had, and believe me, you don’t even want to know how much money i spend at the bakery across the street from my apartment. You’d love it.” He moans, saying hello to your winking hole by dotting barely there kisses right in the center before toying with you, dipping the tiniest bit of his tongue in your walls, then dragging his saliva all over your pucker. “It’d be fun to eat something off you, we could make a date out of it. Go up to the counter and pick which ones would taste the best when I eat it off your fat ass, but I think they’d all be amazing, don’t you?”

You nod rapidly and throw your ass back on his tongue, burning in shame with every smug laugh and grunt as Oikawa beats around the bush so to speak, doing everything under the sun with your ass but properly eating it. You wish you were in your shitty apartment, sitting on his face and drowning out the sound of your arguing neighbors with your slutty moans. He looks up from behind you to check on how you’re doing, and thank heavens because he finally buries his face in your ass and slurps at your puckered hole.

You lose yourself to the experience, feeling his wet tongue fuck into your ass hole and carve out little pieces of you for himself. He pays zero attention to your pussy, which is why it’s so wet and dripping onto the mat beneath you, it’s like he’s too obsessed with your thick globes to even notice, but you don’t hate it. It’s hot to have a guy be eye socket deep in your ass but also have him neglect where you really need his attention, there’s a dichotomy between being the mousey way you’ve gone about your life and the whorish behavior this man is urging you to consider.

You looked fucked out already, hair all over the place from how much you’ve messed with it and lips dropping open on drawn out squeals and whines. Oikawa is eating your ass out like it’s his main job, the one he puts in overtime for and goes above and beyond to be employee of the month at. He thrusts his tongue a few more times before apparently deciding that’s not enough and slipping in one of his absurdly long fingers alongside it.

You whimper, clenching around both as you just sit there in that damn table top pose and let a man you barely know play your ass like a well oiled fiddle. He shakes your cheek in his hand as he digs his tongue into you, delicately fingering your hole until it goes slack enough for him to insert another. You’re impossibly tight, as much as your clit is howling for it you know perfectly well that any serious penetration isn’t possible. From the impressions you got, Oikawa’s packing enough to tear you until you bleed if you don’t use lube or prep thoroughly beforehand, which you’d do anyways but it’s a shame.

Your clit throbs painfully but Oikawa pulls back with a gulp of air to level you with a warning look in the mirror, which only gets you wetter, you twitch again because he’s one of those. There’s a brief flicker of defiance, you could pout and touch yourself anyway, you don’t owe this ridiculously attractive man anything and he’s the one motorboating your ass cheeks and not the other way around, so shouldn’t you be the one in charge?

Then his eyes darken, you get another sharp smack and you table the discussion for some far off occasion.

Oikawa smiles, gently kissing the apple shaped swell of both of your cheeks, “See, I know from your time here that you can be such a good listener, you’re so sweet for me, I know it. You can’t hide that from me just because you want to throw a fit, I said we’d get to know each other afterwards, didn’t I?”

You scoot your ass back in apology, silently begging him to get back to it. He must really be horny too because he dives straight back in, groaning into your rim and french kissing your hole. The hand not doing its best to push its entirety into you kneads your fleshy ass cheek, molding it like dough and separating it from its twin, giving him easier access to your pucker. He ‘tsks’ not even a second later, crooking his two fingers and letting go off your cheek, humming in contentment when it bounces against his face and he’s smothered again.

He wonders if you’ll let him fist you, give you a unique one of a kind rose to swoon over and keep tucked away inside you later, the perfect first date gift from your future boyfriend.

You can even do couples yoga in the morning after your first night together!

“Let’s see if you can cum just from getting your ass played with.” Punctuated by a fourth finger sliding into the knuckle in your ass, he scissors his fingers to stretch you out and playfully acts like he’s gonna sink his whole fist in, pulling out his fingers to curl them into a ball.

The barest hint of blunt pressure on your hole sends a flood of your juices down his arm, smelling somewhat pissy which gives Oikawa truly the most impish grin imaginable.

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helluvapoison · 10 months ago

Note

heyy i was wondering if you could do like Lucifer x reader getting married if ,you want to ofc🫶

btw i love your work so muchh, thank you!!🫶(also english is not my first language so i hope i didn't write anything wrong)

Absolutely I Do

Lucifer Morningstar x Reader

a little insight to your wedding with the king

[part ii (18+ only)]

ʕ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʔ

• What would be a tamer version of a bridezilla? Not quite lashing out at everyone and their mother over the tiniest details but blowing a fuse when white roses arrive and he specifically asked for white gardenias?

• That would be Lucifer

• Asmodeus is his best man and the other Sins are his groomsmen, they’ll handle the flower debacle and any other matter that needs saving

• Good natured Charlie was given, arguably, the easiest task of holding onto the rings! She’s more than capable of planning the entire event on her own (and she asked to… twice) but Lucifer wanted her to enjoy this wedding as he wouldn’t be having another

• It’s part of why he wants this to go perfectly!

• He never thought he’d find another love after Lilith. He didn’t even realize that while you were delicately filling in the crater she’d left, he was falling more and more in love with you

• The other part, his pride and perfectionism aside, is that while it may be his second wedding, it’s your first. In his eyes you deserve only the best and he’ll be damned all over again if he doesn’t deliver

• You told your fiancé (FUCK he loved that word coming out of your mouth, almost as much as he was going to like husband!) to at least try to not go overboard. To which you received a “Me? Overboard? Darling, I would never! Simple and elegant, that’s what the headlines will say!”

• The many, many, many vision boards said otherwise. However you already knew damn well “simple and elegant” translated to grandeur and extravagant– and that’s exactly what it was. To Lucifer’s credit, it wasn’t gaudy or blinding. It really was a gorgeous spectacle

• Per his request it’s an all white event, a stark contrast to the overall location. The guest list is massive. After all, Lucifer’s still a king and certain people would be offended if they missed an occasion like this. Everyone goes all out. Bodies pour into chairs, everyone dripping head to toe in white garments and glamorous jewels

• Lucifer preened and primped, checking the mirror a couple hundred times and asking whoever was in the room if he looked ok. Anything less than “outstanding” had him groaning as he turned back to the mirror

• The wedding suddenly seems like a terrible idea. Not because he has cold feet (he’s rather sweaty, actually) but because the moment he sees you he just wants to steal you away

• You are positively and wholly breathtaking. The stars are jealous over how you outshine them! He can’t do anything but stare in amazement as you walk down the aisle

• Does he, Lucifer Morningstar, vow to protect, love, cherish and serve you for all eternity? Undoubtedly. He adds a few his own too like spoil you rotten, compliment you hourly, never ever never let you feel like you’re alone— all things he’s already done but wanted to make it “official”

• “It’s been an honor to be your confidant and friend… but I’m dying to do that and more as your husband.”

• Then do you take him to have and to hold, for better or worse, richer or poorer?

• “I do.” You answer proudly, squeezing his hands ever so slightly

• Forgetting present company, forgetting he’s a king and supposed to act dignified, Lucifer doesn’t wait to get permission to kiss you. He jumps slightly, knowing you’ll catch him instantly. Hugging your neck he crashes his lips onto yours

• You giggle against him, returning the kiss briefly before setting him down. (Hell knows he’d get carried away and forget much more if you didn’t)

• “I do believe you’re my husband now, Luci.”

• The entire wedding may as well have been a surprise party the way his eyes widened, as if it only just set in what the ordeal was for

• “Oh my golly, I’m your husband. I’m your husband! Hey everybody, I'm their husband!”

╰(*´︶`*)╯♡ don’t apologize, you did great friend! thank you so mochi and i hope you enjoy

#hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel imagine #lucifer morningstar x reader #lucifer morningstar imagine #hazbin hotel headcanon #lucifer morningstar headcanon #hazbin hotel lucifer x reader

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meowzfordayz · 2 years ago

Text

when you grab their chest — akaza, douma, muzan, kyojuro, giyuu, tengen

Author’s Note: pardon the ridiculously long title. 🥴😂 “Fem!Reader” applies to Tengen only.

when you grab their chest — akaza, douma, muzan, kyojuro, giyuu, tengen

Akaza x Reader, Douma x Reader, Muzan x Reader, Rengoku Kyojuro x Reader, Tomioka Giyuu x Reader, Uzui Tengen x Reader

Word Count: ~900

CW: dark humor, Fem!Reader, mild sexual content

Suggestion Fulfilled: I have a request😤 I recently read a certain ass slapping fic which I adored could you do a similar fic with the same characters +giyu and Douma with the reader coming up from behind the and squeezing their man tiddies

~faqs~

I 100% would’ve used MAN TIDDIES in my title, but figured Tumblr would hide this post from tags if I did, so I went w/ “chest” instead 😆

Also, some of these are canon compliant — Muzan, Kyojuro, Giyuu

While others are set in modern au (alternate universe; modern setting) — Akaza, Douma, Tengen

AKAZA

Immediately tenses

#noice 😌😎 after all, the man is ripped

The more Akaza tenses, the more you wanna squish

Except, it’s kinda hard to squish pure, flexed muscle ?? 😔

“Akaza, my love, could you relax?” 🥺

He’s still confused, but my love automatically has him at your beck and call, so-

He relaxes

*gleeful squeal* 😍 *squish squish* 😍

Aaand he’s tensed again

If you actually take the time to explain yourself, then he’ll be absolutely embarrassed flattered

Lowkey decides to do an extra 100 push ups daily, just bc he’s so darn in love w/ you 😭

DOUMA

Douma’s been waiting all his life for you to grab his moobs

So like

He’s one happy camper !!!!! 😌🥳

“all his life” = since he met you

As for “moobs”? I had to, just once 😃

Slowly flexes them so he can hear your amazed gasp 😍

“Are you drooling?” he smirks

“Fuck off,” you scowl

You try to withdraw your hands to wipe away your incriminating drool 😒🤤

But he doesn’t let you 🤪

He squeezes your wrists, grinning widely to himself, “Don’t leave me.” 😇

“But I’m done,” you grumble, resting your forehead between his shoulder blades (you’ve already accepted your fate 🤠)

“I’m not,” he retorts, “Not even close.” 🤗

Translation? Douma wants you to massage his pectorals

#pretty pls and ty

MUZAN

Once again, I’m presuming you’re a demon, and Muzan’s immediate reaction is to slice off your hands 💀

Thank gosh for regeneration! 😮‍💨

You’ve gotta quit surprising him 🤪

I mean

Yeah

He enjoys when you touch him 😅

BUT, he has a reputation to uphold, and being startled by your random displays of physical attention doesn’t exactly help 🙃

The implication that he lets his guard down w/ you (bc how else could you ever hope to genuinely startle him?) is making me feel things 😭

“Do that again, and I won’t be so forgiving.”

The faint dip between his brows has you thinking otherwise 🤭

“What if I ask first?” 😉

You’re treading on thin ice 😬

His eyes flash, “Pardon?”

Good thing he’s close to cracking too 😌

“If I ask to touch you?”

I’ll kill you “You wouldn’t.”

WeLp

He didn’t say No 🤗

(obvi consent’s a must, but in this specific context mutual flirtation’s strongly implied and also it’s literally Muzan)

“Oh!” <— Kyojuro exclaims, cheerful as ever ☺️

“Hello there,” he chuckles, smiling at the feeling of your body pressed against his back, “Are you checking something?”

“Mhm,” you grin, “They’re still here!” 😇

“My pectorals?” his head tilts, “Of course they are?!”

He’s ~a little oblivious, okay? 😃

“How about you hug me from the front?” he suggests gently, “That way I get to hug you too!”

😭😭😭

He’s so precious

How could you refuse?????

Spoiler alert: you can’t

GIVE THE MAN HIS HUG 🥺❤️‍🔥

Spoiler alert: you give Kyojuro his hug, and it is very cozy 🥰

A tad sweaty + suffocating, but you wouldn’t trade it for the world 🥺

Shocked 😵‍💫

Giyuu’s inner monologue: ????? What? Is? This?

Giyuu’s outer dialogue: *still as stone*

“Giyuu?” you immediately remove your hands, scurrying to his front side, head tilted w/ concern, “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to make you uncomfort-” 😕

“You didn’t,” he interrupts quietly, finally grasping his bearings, “It was…” aaand now he’s blushing, “... nice.” 🥺☺️

Your nose scrunches, relief relaxing your shoulders as you nod sheepishly, “I’m glad I didn’t freak you out too much.”

“Mhm,” he smiles reassuringly, “You freaked me out,” gently guiding your palms back to his chest, “But not too much,” winking shyly at you, “The perfect amount, in fact.”

HELP !!!!! CAN YOU JUST CAN I FWIBEIUVLNSOUEJGBWO;GNS

Suave, sexy, knows-what-he-wants, isn’t-afraid-to-tell-you, will-even-go-after-it-himself Giyuu has entered the chat

AnD I AM HERE FOR IT 😭😭😭💘

LOUD LAUGHTER

You can feel it through his tiddies 😆

“Envious, my dear?” 😉

Okay

Presumptuous much? 😒

But alllso 🙄

“If you could share…” you pout, “Gimme just a lil?” 🤗

“You’re welcome to work out with me,” he chuckles fondly, flexing for you, “These could totally be yours!”

You sigh, “Tengen, pectorals and breasts aren’t the same thing.”

“I know that,” he shrugs, patting your knuckles reassuringly, “Your breasts are perfect, and I’m happy to coach you and your pectorals if you so desire.”

You decide to test the waters 🌊

“What if my pectorals get bigger than yours?” 😏

Tengen immediately drowns you 🌊💀

“Not a chance.” 😐

And then he tacks on, a tad nicer, “But you could certainly get very big pectorals.” ☺️

“Just not bigger than yours,” you grin 😏

He nods grimly, “My ego would pop.” 😔

“And that would be tragic.” ☹️

“Indeed,” he squeezes your hands (which remain splayed across his chest), still basking in your touch, “I appreciate your understanding.” 😖🥰

(fyi, if your pectorals did get bigger than Tengen’s, then he’d: survive, be super proud of you, and beg to know your workout regimen)

#headcanons #modern au #kimetsu no yaiba #demon slayer #akaza kny #akaza demon slayer #akaza x reader #douma kny #douma demon slayer #douma x reader #muzan kny #muzan demon slayer #muzan x reader #rengoku kyojuro #kyojuro x reader #tomioka giyuu #giyuu x reader #uzui tengen #tengen x reader

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