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mypoisonedvine · 3 years

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𝗵𝗮𝗽𝗽𝘆 𝗹𝗶𝘁𝘁𝗹𝗲 𝗽𝗶𝗹𝗹 || dark!alex kerner x reader

𝘀𝘂𝗺𝗺𝗮𝗿𝘆 ◦ alex has been waiting so long for you to figure out he's the guy you should be with, but you just see him as your best friend. he's tired of being a virgin, and he's tired of hoping that someday you'll wake up and realise you're meant to be together— if he can't wake you up, at least he can put you to sleep.

𝘄𝗼𝗿𝗱 𝗰𝗼𝘂𝗻𝘁 ◦ 6.7k

𝘄𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀 ◦ smut (noncon, somnophilia, creampie), drugging, obsession, "nice guy"/incel vibes, a bit of possessiveness, very slight degradation, male virginity loss, overall just alex being super unsettling and awful lmao

“I’m gonna run to the washroom, watch my drink?” you requested casually. Alex nodded quickly, heart starting to beat a bit faster as he watched you weave your way through the crowded bar, leaning back a bit to make sure you were out of sight for good.

He took a few glances back and forth at the people around to make sure no eyes were on him, leaning in closer to the bar to try to conceal what he was doing— reaching into his inner jacket pocket and fishing for what he’d bought just a few days ago, waiting for this moment. He was absolutely terrified that someone would catch him— that you would catch him— but he was willing to risk it in exchange for such an incredible reward.

After struggling for a second due to his hands shaking slightly, he found the plastic baggie and discreetly slipped it out, not even looking at it as he opened it close to his chest; he figured if he stared straight ahead it would be less suspicious.

He managed to get the bag open and lean forward just enough to dump the contents into your drink as it rested on the bar, looking around absent-mindedly to remain nonchalant— except that when he leaned back to see if the powder had dissolved easily, he found that he’d missed the glass entirely and dumped the light blue substance right onto the bar.

“Scheiße!” he frantically cursed under his breath as he whipped his head around to make sure no one had seen, trying to decide how to recover from this. Thinking quickly, he grabbed the glass and held it up to the edge of the bar, brushing the powder with his hand across the smooth surface and right over the slope into your drink; it hit the alcohol and started to dissolve quickly as he used his finger to push in the excess on the wooden bar before brushing the rest away with his jacket sleeve. He held the glass up to his face to look at the liquid closely, still seeing some remnants of the powder and trying to swirl the drink a bit to encourage it to fade away: if you saw something by the time you got back, he’d have to start all over again.

“When I said ‘watch my drink,’ I didn’t mean it that literally,” you giggled, and he jumped, not having realized you had returned. Considering your casual attitude and your hands eagerly reaching for the glass, you must not have seen anything leading up to this moment— and thank heavens for that.

He watched a little too intently as you took the drink from his hand and took a sip, waiting to see if you had any reaction, but you set it down without saying anything. “Thanks,” you broke the silence after swallowing, “god knows this place is probably full of creeps.”

“Yeah, no kidding,” he agreed awkwardly. There was one benefit to being so deep in the friendzone: you trusted him. Right now, that and some pharmaceutical support were all he had going for him.

He wrung his hands nervously as he hoped that the second would come through for him. The guy he bought this stuff from said it was guaranteed to work, but Alex didn’t necessarily trust the word of a drug dealer selling daterape drugs. Not that he thought the label of “daterape” was very fair— if he could get you on a date, he wouldn’t have to do stuff like this in the first place! But after years of being your best friend, your partner in crime, your confidante, and the constant shoulder to cry on while a carousel of abusive assholes treated you like shit and kicked you to the curb, you still didn’t get the fucking picture. So no, this wasn’t a date; it was just two friends getting drinks, and one friend finally getting what he deserved from the other.

He took a swig of his own drink to try to calm his nerves; nursing the neck of a bottle of beer made him realize he got lucky that you ordered something served in a glass, since getting powder down a bottle would’ve been a pain.

Quickly the conversation returned to the mundane: your latest break-up, his week at work, your favorite bands, his favorite movies. He really did enjoy being your friend, all things considered, he just needed more. And as the night continued without much sign of the pill kicking in— even as you finished your drink— he worried he wouldn't get it.

But then, finally, he noticed the subtle signs: you were blinking a bit more often, and for longer. You seemed to be breathing a bit slower, staring off into space. "Hey, you with me?" he prompted, waving his hand in front of your face to get your attention. "Sorry, my story was boring—"

"No, it's not that, I'm sorry," you shook your head.

"Then what's up?" he asked, adding faux concern to his tone.

“I just…" you sighed and started over again. "Let’s head out soon, I’m getting ready to turn in,” you decided.

“It’s only ten!” Alex pointed out with a laugh.

“Fuck, really? I thought it was later,” you frowned.

“Who knew you were such a lightweight?” he teased, pushing you on the shoulder and getting a playful shove back— but he could feel that you were a little weak, and he saw you almost falter in your balance. “Hey, you don’t look so good, let’s go outside for some fresh air.”

You nodded and took his hand, letting him guide you through the crowd and out the back door.

The overwhelming noise that had been present inside was muffled in the damp alleyway, just the distant roar of a thousand conversations and the heavy bass of the music left now. He watched you take a deep breath, closing your eyes. "You good?" he prompted.

"Yeah," you decided, but your voice sounded a little heavy. "Let's walk to the train station…"

He nodded and walked beside you, but you hardly made it a few steps before losing your balance. “Woah!” he laughed as you stumbled, thankfully catching you just in time, and tried not to get too caught up in how amazing it felt to hold you in his arms. “I think you’ve had a little too much to drink…”

“Alex,” you mumbled as you started to go limp, clearly fighting to keep your eyes open (and losing).

“I’m gonna take you home, okay?” he offered as you started to fade out.

He kept that promise; he just took you to his home instead of your own.

It was a bit of a struggle to drag an unconscious body back to his apartment without arousing suspicion, but thankfully it was only a couple blocks and with his your arm slung over his shoulders it was pretty easy for any passersby (of which there were very few at this hour) to assume it was just a chivalrous boyfriend helping his date after one too many drinks.

The hardest part was actually getting his keys and unlocking his door without dropping you. Once you were both inside, though, he grunted slightly as he slung you over his shoulder and carried you to the bedroom, laying you down on the bed and looking down at you as he caught his breath.

He was embarrassingly eager; he was already rock hard just from seeing you like this, laying on his bed. It’s not that he got off on you being passed out, but from the feeling that he could do whatever he wanted to you— and the knowledge that he was going to.

Finally, after all this time of being just your friend, he would get what he’d been dreaming of from the beginning.

He was slow and patient, for once, as he sat down beside you on the bed, trailing his fingers over your face, brushing your hair out of the way tenderly. You looked so beautiful this way, peaceful in a way he was almost jealous of; he closed his eyes as he leaned down and kissed you softly, moving his lips even though yours were slack and still.

Past the taste of alcohol, there was something distinctly unique to you, and he took in a deep breath as he sought more of it, adjusting himself until he was on top of you... just having you beneath him was such a rush.

He licked over your lips, even nibbled on them before holding your jaw so he could open your mouth wider and taste inside of it. “Baby,” he whispered to you, heart swelling at the chance to finally call you something that friends don’t call each other— only lovers. “Baby,” he said again, mumbled into the kiss, “you’re so beautiful…”

He precariously balanced on one arm while using the other to feel all over your body through your clothes— and even under them, for a moment, as his hand awkwardly snaked up your shirt and squeezed your tits through your bra.

Suddenly he pulled back with a new desperation, sitting up and breaking the kiss as he started to undress you. “Let’s get you out of these clothes,” he cooed at you quietly, starting to lift your shirt to expose a bit of your hips and stomach.

It was pretty difficult to push your shirt up, since your weight was holding the back of it down, and so he had to awkwardly lift your limp upper body to finally pull the fabric aside before he laid you back down and carefully— gently, with reverence— exposed your bra which itself he pulled down with much less care.

“Oh, god,” he groaned as he got an eyeful, and then a handful, of your tits. “Fuck, wanted to touch you for so long…”

You were so warm, in fact you were hot to the touch, and he hoped his hands weren’t too cold for you… but then again, you couldn’t feel any of it, could you? Did you even care?

For cold hands or not, your nipples started to get harder and he smiled to himself. “You’re sensitive here, just like I imagined. I’m gonna suck on them,” he promised as he started to lean down, pushing them together a bit to make them easier to reach. With a hum he wrapped his lips around one bud and closed his eyes, swirling his tongue and moaning at the taste of your skin. Already his hips were rocking forward into the air just a bit, his cock throbbing and eager to be inside you. But he couldn’t stop doing this to deal with that, couldn’t stop suckling on your perfect tits, going back and forth and massaging them both as he let his tongue explore you.

“God, you’re so fucking perfect,” he groaned against your skin, “you’ve got such perfect tits… you like being sucked here, don’t you? I bet your pussy’s getting so wet.”

As his cock flexed in his pants again, he found the strength to let go so he could move on to better things.

“Let’s find out,” he decided as he sat up and moved down your body to start opening your jeans.

If he thought your shirt was awkward to remove, your jeans were a whole other story; he had to fiddle with the button and fly for quite a while since his hands were starting to shake from the adrenaline rush of it all, and then it took several hard yanks to get the tight denim down your legs. He considered just getting them down enough to do his business and be on with it, but decided it would be better to see all of you— and so he stood up off the bed for a moment, though it felt a bit awkward physically with his cock doing its best try to bust right out of his trousers, and pulled the jeans off over your feet which he also relieved of their socks.

“Aw, you even have pretty feet,” he cooed as he cradled one in his hand briefly before climbing back up over you— after all he’d seen them before when you wore sandals and while he’d always found it a bit titillating when you wore them with your toenails painted in bright colours, they were absolutely nowhere near the main event tonight.

His hands ran over your legs, admiring the smoothness of your skin as he carefully held and lifted each one, moving them out further to spread your legs. Again, they were heavier than he expected as dead weight, and the softness of the bed meant that they sort of rolled back a bit so he had to move them more than he expected at first, but it was worth it to have you spread out beneath him like this with only your panties and rolled up shirt to cover you.

“I can just… pull these aside…” he mumbled as he hooked a finger into the fabric of your panties, revealing your cunt— and god, just the sight of it nearly pushed him over the edge right then and there. What a waste it would’ve been to come this far and just end up coming in his pants at the sight of you, so it was a good thing he held it off just barely. “Mein Gott, you have such a beautiful pussy,” he sighed. “It smells good… I wanna taste it. I’ve never tasted a pussy before…”

Carefully, he leaned in and gave an experimental lick to your folds, moaning softly at the taste. He wasn’t sure what he was expecting but he liked it more than he thought he would, going in again to get a more thorough taste. That said, as soon as he started to push his tongue into you, he knew he needed to feel inside you with something much more capable of appreciating every detail of you. He breathed heavily as he quickly brought his fingers up to your entrance, pushing in one but adding a second right away once he felt the warm perfection of your channel. This he’d done before— fingering, that is— and it had been rather lackluster so he hadn’t realised how much he would enjoy it when it was you; you were so much warmer, and wetter, and tighter… his fingers curled slightly to press against your walls, his attempt to feel every detail of your body, and he moaned as he sucked on your clit while he pumped his fingers.

One more flex of his cock against the confines of his trousers made one thing very clear: now, or never.

“Fuck,” he groaned beneath his breath as he sat up quickly, pulling his fingers out of you to use two hands to fumble over his belt and jeans, “need to be inside you— m’gonna fuck you baby, you want it? Yeah, you wanna be fucked, don’t you?”

You were, of course, still and silent… but your pussy was wet, you obviously wanted him.

He shouldn’t have rushed it quite so much but the moment he pulled his cock out, he found himself leaning forward and hovering over you again, swiping the head through your folds to coat himself in your wetness. As soon as he felt your entrance, he pushed all the way inside.

“Fuck!” he moaned loudly at the overwhelming feeling of you— so hot he thought he might burn up and he wouldn’t even mind it— already bucking his hips as he thrusted quickly. Lost in the feeling, he threw his head back for a moment and blindly searched with his hand until he found a breast to grab onto. “Oh my god, you feel so good, baby…”

He didn’t have much freedom to move his legs since he’d only pushed his pants down just enough to get inside you, but he found a way to make it work anyways, just from pure desperation. After a moment, he looked down at your sleeping face, tossing around slightly as his thrusts rocked your unconscious body, and you looked so angelic that he just had to lean down to kiss you again. So he did, and he did so hungrily, passionately, moans echoing into your mouth, as he already felt himself getting closer and closer to the edge.

“Taking me so good,” he praised roughly, “feels like you were made for me… you’re fucking tight, too, how am I supposed to pull out when you’re this tight? Oh fuck, I have to come inside you— I can’t pull out, you feel too good, and you’re not awake to yell at me anyways…”

Truth be told, he had no plan for when you woke up tomorrow, sore and leaking his come. He’d never thought that far ahead, not even when he was buying the sedative for your drink. All he could think about was this moment, this exact place that he knew he was meant to be: inside you.

“Gonna fill you with it,” he promised with a grunt as he kissed his way across your cheek to the crook of your neck where he buried his face as he thrusted faster. “O-oh god, I’m close, I’m so fucking close, just— just like that, baby— fuck!”

He may have caught a little glimpse of heaven as he came inside you, each pulse of his orgasm running straight down to the base of his cock and making his balls tighten so hard that it would’ve probably been painful were it not for the euphoria superseding everything. He gave you a few more weak thrusts, not pulling out very far since he couldn’t manage being anything but buried completely inside you, before the waves subsided and he collapsed on top of you.

“You’re so amazing, baby, Mein Gott,” he breathed as he kissed all over your face, “look how fast you made me come, you’re fucking perfect.”

He let himself rest for a little while, content to just stay inside you for as long as he could stand it, before sitting back up again and very carefully pulling himself out of you.

That first one only took the edge off; now that he was thinking somewhat clearly again, he could take the time to do this right— he carefully pulled your panties down your legs, tossing them aside along with your shirt and bra once he’d figured out how to get them off somehow.

He really savored you this time: kissed you all over, talked softly to you about everything he couldn’t wait to do to your pliant body, ran his hands over anywhere he could reach. He even played with your clit, watching the way it made your walls flex which pushed a bit of his come out every time. “I love the way your pussy looks, baby, it’s so fucking sexy,” he grinned. “And you know what? I think it looks even better with my come leaking out of it. You want more? I can give you more, baby, I have so much left to give— I’m gonna use you until my balls are empty and all my come is inside you. We’ve got all night, after all.”

He stripped himself as well, wanting to feel your skin against his this time, and stroked himself for a moment as he stared down at your body, laying there at his disposal. He couldn’t even count how many times he had jerked off imagining being with you, and now his dreams were coming true, if maybe not exactly the way he would’ve predicted.

On his knees between your spread legs, he lifted your hips up and propped you up just how he wanted you before pushing inside, groaning instantly not only from your warmth but also because of the way his own come eased his path and left you dripping wet. “Oh fuck,” he breathed, placing one hand beside your head so he could hover over you while the other squeezed your hips tightly.

But now that he’d already come before, he had some real stamina to work with and that gave him time to move you into a new position— just for fun, he turned you onto your stomach and fucked you from behind for a while. He was definitely a breast man all things considered, but he was absolutely not one to let a great ass go to waste; he loved watching yours ripple each time he slammed into you, pushing your back down to force it to arch a bit.

“You probably like taking it from behind, don’t you? Is this how you liked to get fucked?” he taunted with a groan. “Yeah, I think you like it— I think you’re a bit of a slut, hm?”

He took your absence of response as a yes, squeezing handfuls of your ass before spanking you a few times for good measure.

After that, he pushed your legs up to your shoulders, groaning in awe of such a lovely view of your pussy and face at the same time. This time when he pushed his cock into you, he felt himself hit the very end of your body— he moaned as he realized his cock was using all of you, really claiming you as his own. He needed to come this deep in you, he needed it like he had never needed anything before.

Soon enough it ended up with your legs draped over his shoulders and his hands roughly grabbing at your tits, and that transitioned naturally into him slipping his arms under your back and holding you tight as he fucked you fast, rough, needy— animalistic, near the end.

He let his mind run wild with some insane idea of what it might be like if you were awake: in his fantasy you were begging him for more, moaning about how he was the best you ever had, digging your nails into his back as he brought you to ecstasy with only his cock. You seemed like the type to cry with joy when you came really hard, at least that’s what he’d imagined before, and so he thought he might kiss your tears away while he spoke his little praises to you, hearing your sounds of pleasure right against his ear.

Suddenly he pressed his lips to yours again, almost wishing you could kiss him back properly but appreciating that this was the best he could do for now— and it still did plenty for him, making his cock start to flex inside you as his second orgasm drew closer.

“You’ll make me come, baby— you’re so good, I’m gonna come in you again,” he whispered against your lips. “Oh, Liebling, you’re going to be so full of my come, do you think you can take it all? Can you take everything, baby?”

It was different from the first one: in some ways more intense, kind of building on the last, and in some ways more subdued as he knew a bit more of what to expect by now. But it was no less incredible, and he moaned loudly into his unrequited kiss as he filled you once again.

Once the most intense pangs of sensation had faded, once the ringing in his ears had stopped, and once he’d (mostly) caught his breath, he sat up slowly and looked down at where your bodies were joined. It had, understandably, made a bit of a mess to come inside you twice in a row— he hopped up from the beg on slightly-wobbly legs to retrieve a damp cloth, cleaning his cock first before giving your pussy at least a cursory, exterior wipe down like any gentleman would.

He knew there was no real point in getting you fully cleaned up since he’d be back to use you again soon enough. But that was a ways out from now since he definitely needed a while to recover.

With a parting kiss to your forehead and a brief search for his boxers, Alex left the bedroom to forage the kitchen for something to restore some energy. He settled on a coffee (there was still plenty of night left that he would definitely prefer to be awake for), an apple, and some orange-chocolate biscuits, which he enjoyed while he turned on the TV and watched whatever was left before the end of broadcast.

Of course, with nothing interesting to watch, he found himself not really paying much attention as his mind wandered to other things. Most of all, for the first time he considered his plan for after the pill wore off and you had questions. The most thorough solution would be to give you a bath to get his fingerprints off of your skin and his come out of you, then to redress you in your clothes from the bar and simply say that you passed out and he gave you the bed while he slept on the couch.

Another option, though more dangerous, might be a bit more fun: he could leave at least some of his come inside you before he redressed you, just to know he’d left a bit of himself behind.

And, of course, there was always his last resort, perhaps the most obvious but highest risk solution. He could admit that something had happened, but try to convince you that it was of your doing, a drunken initiation that you simply couldn’t remember. But even then, it would all depend on what you remembered of the moments at the bar before blacking out; and considering the thorough beating your pussy had been receiving so far tonight and would continue to be receiving, the odds were probably pretty low that he could convince your hungover self in the morning that nothing had happened. Not that Alex would know, but he had a pretty good feeling that a sore vagina is not a common side effect of a hangover for women.

His cock started to stir as he imagined the absolute best case scenario when you woke up in the morning.

Alex, what happened last night? Did we have sex?

Yes, baby, and it was amazing, I just wish you could remember it.

Oh, Alex, I’ve been waiting so long for you to just man up and take me— you’re all I ever wanted.

I know, baby, but I’m sorry I had to go about it that way, giving you that pill in your drink. I just had to be sure you wouldn’t say no to me, I couldn’t take it if you did.

I’d never say no to you, Alex, and I never, ever will. I wouldn’t even know how, not after last night— I know that we’re meant to be together now. You shouldn’t apologize for drugging me either, I should be thanking you. We can finally be together, I can finally be all yours… come here and make love to me again, I promise I’m going to remember it this time— I’ll remember it for the rest of my life.

And to make up for such a one-sided night of passion before, he decided that this time you’d be loud and proud, even bordering on dominant by riding him with reckless abandon— bouncing happily on his cock and bringing yourself pleasure like you’ve never known before. But, of course, you’d both be well aware who was really in charge, who you really belonged to.

Alex, I’m yours— my body is yours, my heart is yours, everything, it’s all yours… I swear, nobody’s ever made me feel like you do, you can have me whenever you want me— use me, Alex, I love you, I love you!

Fuck, he was hard again. Way harder than he had any right to be considering how he’d spent the night so far. He could even just barely see a little stain of precum on his boxers by the tip of his cock, hard to make out with only the dim, blue-ish glow of the TV to see by.

But thankfully, while you were here, no boner would go to waste— he stood up and stretched away the soreness that had settled in from sitting on the couch for a while, before walking to his bedroom and cracking the door open. You were laying there, exactly as he’d left you, and even though it was no surprise at all he still smiled to himself proudly.

“Hey baby,” he grinned as he slipped off his boxers and hopped onto the bed beside your motionless body, “you’ve been waiting for me, huh?”

He ran his fingers down your stomach, over your thighs, then came back up to start to touch your pussy. He still couldn’t believe how soft and silky it was, you were just too good to be true— and here you were, spread out on his bed for him to use as much as he liked, his best friend turned into his own personal sex doll.

The only shame was that the drug would wear off eventually, and he couldn’t just use you this way forever. It was only one night, at least until he found a way to do it again, and he needed to make the most of it.

So, not looking to waste any more time, he climbed up on top of you and rubbed his cock over your pussy— wet and spread out on display for him, though even wetter after he took a moment to pull back and spit on it— while his mouth laved at your hardening nipples. Honestly, he could probably come just from this, just from rubbing himself on you and sucking on your tits, but why do that when he could fuck you again?

He held your legs apart for himself as he pushed inside, purring as he felt your swollen channel struggle slightly to accommodate him. “Aw, it’s not too big for you, is it baby?” he taunted you with a smirk. “You can take it all, right? Yeah you can, that’s my good girl…”

He fucked you a little faster right away, focusing his hands and mouth on your breasts for a while and wondering if he might find the self-discipline to pull out and come on your tits this time. Probably not, but it was fun to imagine. He always thought your tits just deserved to be covered in his come, though, ever since you wore that one dress that showed them off just a little too much and it made him too horny to even really be jealous that you were putting yourself on display like that.

You dressed a little too provocatively, all things considered; he never got his head around on how all these controlling douchebag boyfriends of yours let you leave the house like that. If you were his girlfriend, he’d treat you loads better than any of them did, but one thing he’d be sure of is to dress you up in baggy sweatshirts as much as he could get away with. No more of those tops with the straps as thin as a noodle and the jeans so tight that every guy who walked by was obviously staring at you. A body as lovely as yours would need to stay Alex’s-eyes-only, if you two were ever going to end up together. But obviously, tonight proved that Alex was more confident than ever that that could never really happen. It was nice to play pretend for the night, though.

“You’re taking it so good, baby, look at you,” he groaned as he sat up a bit to get a glimpse of your cunt stretched wide around his cock. “Can you believe it fits? I can, I know you were made to take it— ‘cause you’re my girl, huh? All mine…”

For all intents and purposes, he was talking to himself; but as stupid as it was, it worked.

“Yeah, you’re all mine,” he continued, fucking you faster, “this pussy belongs to me, all my come inside it makes that pretty fucking clear, don’t you think? Such a beautiful little pussy and it’s all mine.”

Overcome by it all, he leaned down to rest his head beside yours while he fucked you, feeling a thin layer of sweat gather around most of his body from the exertion of fucking you as hard as he was.

“You’re never gonna let anybody else touch you,” he demanded against your shoulder, “‘cause you’re mine, baby, and nobody else is ever gonna fuck you… just me, you’re gonna be mine, Liebling.”

He heard you let out a little sigh and at first it was the hottest thing he’d ever experienced— the closest he’d ever gotten to hearing you moan for him— but then he pulled back and saw your eyes blinking open and staring straight up at him…

And suddenly it was the most terrifying thing he’d ever experienced.

A rush of adrenaline— much less enjoyable than before— shot through him and left him petrified as he stared back at you.

“...A-Alex?” you croaked out weakly. “What’s happening?”

Even in his state of terror, he was moving on pure instinct: and his instinct was to keep fucking you. He couldn’t stop, not even staring you down like this, not even moments away from facing the very terrible consequences of his very terrible actions. “You’re dreaming,” he blurted out suddenly, suppressing a moan as he felt you squirm a bit beneath him— it made you even tighter when you struggled. “This is just a dream…”

You reached up, a pathetically weak attempt to push him away, and he quickly pinned your arms down beside your head.

“You’re just dreaming, baby,” he repeated in a groan, “a really, really amazing dream.”

You whimpered a bit but didn’t say anything else, eyes falling shut again; he carefully leaned down to press his face into your neck, kissing along your pulse and up to your ear.

“You’ve dreamed about this before, haven’t you?” he whispered to you softly. “You’ve dreamed about how good it would be if you let your best friend fuck you. And it feels good, doesn’t it? I dreamed about this too. For as long as I knew you.”

When he looked up at your eyes again, they were still shut, and your breathing started to slow down again. He couldn’t say for sure that you were asleep quite in the same way you had been before, but you weren’t awake the way you’d been before, either.

The safest option, of course, would be to stop now— but he was too close to coming a third time and he just couldn’t bring himself to stop moving when the slick friction was just so fucking good.

He tried not to be too rough so he wouldn’t jostle you awake, and even just that took all that was left of his willpower; it wasn’t all too much later that he came inside you one last time, whispering to you about how this might be the last time, but that he hopes you enjoyed your strange little dream about making love with your best friend.

Truth be told, he didn’t mean to fall asleep in the manner that he did— that being on top of you— but the coffee did little to keep him up compared to the sedative of three orgasms and your perfect pussy keeping him warm all night…

By the time he woke up, though, you two had migrated apart slightly, though you were still tangled up in his arms with your head on his chest.

Smiling down at you, he let himself run his fingers lightly over your back, over your arm draped on his chest, before he felt you start to stir with the sunlight in the window shining on your face.

You hummed a little, starting to move, but he thought he might’ve caught the moment you realised you were laying next to someone— and you looked up at him with those pretty eyes all confused. “Alex?” you groaned.

“Morning,” he greeted, trying to mimic the hungover exhaustion that tinted your voice.

“Oh Christ are we—” you choked, glancing down at his bare chest. “I think we’re naked.”

“That… seems to be the case, yes,” he agreed awkwardly.

“Did we…?” you prompted, looking up at him in a way that made it painfully ambiguous what answer you might prefer.

“I don’t know, we were both pretty wasted,” he offered, banking on you not remembering him being much more composed than you when you passed out. “What do you remember last?”

“Um, the bar…” you trailed off. “And we were walking outside…”

“Yeah, that’s kind of where my memory cuts off, too,” he bluffed with a nervous chuckle.

He saw your eyes get wide for a second before they darted away, and he raised an eyebrow. “Oh… oh shit,” you choked as you sat up suddenly, trying to cover yourself as you searched near the bed for your discarded clothes.

“What? What’s going on?” he asked quickly.

“I, uh, remember one other thing,” you explained pointedly, finally finding your panties and slipping them back on under the covers.

“Well, what is it?” he asked, but you ignored him as you searched for your bra. “Hey,” he barked, grabbing your shoulder as he sat up, and finally you faced him again, “what do you remember?”

“Well,” you sighed, “I, uh… I think I can say with complete confidence that we fucked last night.”

“Wait, what? Are you sure?” he pressed, sitting up a little straighter.

“I… remember,” you explained, “just a little bit.”

He just prayed that you didn’t remember that little bit where he drugged you. “Well, what happened?”

“I don’t know, okay? I just remember you on top of me and—”

“And?”

You swallowed thickly, and he had to hide a smirk when he realized what the rest of your sentence was. And it felt good.

“I should go…” you mumbled awkwardly, and he reached out to grab your arm.

“Wait, please,” he begged, and you looked back at him with watery eyes. “Look, I’m not sure what happened last night, but maybe it wasn’t a mistake— I mean, how can we be sure if we don’t give it a shot?”

You tilted your mouth a bit as you considered it.

“I mean, they say alcohol takes away your inhibitions, not that it gives you new ideas, right?” he added. “So we both got way too drunk and… if this is where we ended up, then maybe this is what we both really wanted all along.”

He scooted a bit closer to you on the bed, wrapping his arms around you. You sighed as you leaned into his chest, relaxing a bit. “I just don’t want to lose this,” you breathed. “You know: this.”

“Of course,” he agreed, “we’re always gonna be best friends, nothing can change that.”

He leaned in to kiss your temple… then your cheek… then just below your ear...

“Alex,” you breathed as he slowly laid you down and pressed you back into the mattress, but you jumped a little bit when he pressed his cock against your thigh. “Alex!”

“C’mon, baby, let’s remember together,” he encouraged with kisses all over your neck, grinning as your back arched.

“But… but we’re just friends,” you protested.

“Not anymore,” he purred. “I don’t remember much, but I remember you begging me for more. You loved my cock way too much for us to just be friends now, Liebling.”

For all the conflict on your face, your legs spreading open for him was pretty unambiguous. Your mind might have missed the memo, but your body was already used to him. With you conscious he could make you come around him, he could hear you moan his name, he could make you beg him to come inside you… the possibilities were really endless.

He should’ve known he’d never have the self-control to let it just be one night; he was a goner from the beginning, he’d do anything to have you— lie, steal, kill, spike your drink— and he wasn’t going to let you get away so easily, not when you were finally right here in his arms.

“You’re gonna be mine, baby,” he whispered in your ear as he slowly pushed his cock inside you once again, “all mine.”

#dark!alex kerner x reader #alex kerner dark fic #alex kerner noncon #yep this is where we're at folks #daniel brühl x reader #daniel brühl dark fic

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delicrieux · 4 years

Text

☆ﾐ 𝚖𝚊𝚔𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚜𝚊𝚢 “𝚘𝚑”

PART 10: BIG DICK IS BACK IN TOWN

y/n is back in brooklyn for the holidays. thinking that a stream will make her feel less homesick for cali, she starts working on her famously titled hentai.free.srv. what was supposed to be a relaxing stream turns into a special delivery about two hours in.

─── corpse husband x reader ─── soc. media + written fiction! ─── word count: 2.2k ─── ❥ req: Here's one... You know those apps for delivery like Domino's or whatnot... What if reader is streaming Among Us with Corpse, and reader mentions they're hungry and Corpse offers to order them food, and readers like no no it's fine... Then there's delivery at the door (Corpse ordered beforehand)

author’s note: fucky format is also back in town baby!!! also if you find any mistakes - no u didnt <3 thank u everyone for enjoying this story sm i literally cant believe how feral yall going strawberry cow was a nuclear explosion im still recovering tbh. got an ask a while ago and decided to incorporate it into myso. happy holidays everyone! myso will continue on monday!

ultimate masterlist. ҉ myso masterlist ҉ previous. ҉ next.

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Indeed, being soft on any social media platform was the biggest disgrace and needed to be eliminated post haste. Moreover, it was a slippery slope - once you start flooding your timeline with cute imagery and heart emojis, what will stop you from posting inspirational Facebook quotes? Disgusting. If Rae were here, she would chide you (not you thinking about her as if she’s dead or something). For once in your life, you feel like you deserve it.

Alas, you hope this little chaos you’ve caused is enough to throw everyone off. The stans, especially. You know the hashtags, you’ve seen ARMY scourging for info online with the same fervor and ruthlessness 1 Direction fans hacked airport security cameras just to spy on the boys. If you had any dirty secrets online, they are out to the public now - thankfully, besides the Harry Styles stan account (with edits and all), you have nothing. Though, now that you think about it, exposed nudes would have been better than your Punk!Harry edit receiving almost a million views. God, your life’s a fucking mess.

Your fans aren’t the only ones out for info - you, too, are trying to decipher Rae’s message. Code: Barbecue Sauce. The two of you had come up with it roughly two years ago, around the same time when you promised that if you didn’t find significant others by the time you’re 40, you’ll just marry each other. It was one of the many rules found in your friendship codex. Barbecue Sauce signifies information - an exchange of information. And depending on how it ends or begins (”So I’m sitting there” alludes to Rae, “On my titties” alludes to you), secret data on that person is given away, usually free of charge.

But why? And to whom did Rae give away what? You had pestered her mercilessly and even sent some voice messages where you were crying. You were only crying because of a video of a grandpa smiling you saw on TikTok, but you are a snake, and so you put those tears to good use. If streaming doesn’t work out, you’ll just become an actress. Hollywood would love you. Your PR firm sure as fuck wouldn’t, though.

Rae was having none of it. She said you’ll figure it out eventually. Told you to channel your superior puzzle skills. You were quick to remind her that you can barely count to ten without having an aneurysm. Oddly serious, she admitted that she worries for you sometimes. Why only sometimes?! you demanded. She merely sighed. uttering under her breath something that sounded closely to “Boke.”

You leave her for barely a week and she’s already neck deep in the gay volleyball anime, hoodie and cardboard cutout and everything. Your life is falling apart.

But Brooklyn is nice. It had snowed when you stepped off of the plane. Thousands of snowflakes sprinkling into your hair, dotting your cheeks and nose. You missed this sight back in Cali. You missed your parents, too.

Home cooked meals, old sweaters, your old room and about 40GB worth of old high school pictures on your computer. You went through them all one night. Some were stomach churning, cringe inducing nightmares. You were especially fond of those. Texted some of your friends that were still in Brooklyn, met up, decided to bake. Bad idea, Rae was the resident chef back in Cali. Besides laughing till your stomach hurt, and almost burning down your kitchen, nothing all that significant happened. Somewhere down the line, at about 3 am, half-way through a cheesy rom-com you had the overwhelming urge to text Corpse.

That’s where the problems really started. God, you missed California, missed being in the same timezone with a guy you hadn’t even met yet, how embarrassing is that?! You missed skating around and taking pictures of the beach in the setting sun, sending it to him, silently wishing he was with you to admire the view.

You really want to call him. And to hang out with him. But for some reason, the thought of that springs up immediate anxiety and you shy away from asking. Him sending you cute good morning texts doesn’t help, either. Maybe it’s better he doesn’t know that you’re a blushing, stuttering mess each time you read “baby”.

Late evening. Your stream is already set up, people are slowly trickling in and you greet them with a grin and a soft “Hello! Hi hi!”. You did your best to make your room a perfectly chaotic backdrop - led lights, an embarrassing amount of anime merch and plushies. You always try to balance out your weeb side by dressing hot as fuck for your streams - today’s inspiration just so happens to be egirls. Mostly because you watched one too many egirl make-up tutorials on TikTok, and also because you’ve been listening to Corpse’s song all day.

Yeah, no, who are you kidding, you dressed up this way because you were hoping Corpse was watching your stream. You didn’t forget your cat headphones, either. You know he likes them. You want to make him suffer. Perhaps then, finally, he will ask you out, so you wouldn’t have to.

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“I feel like,” You start when you put away your phone, staring idly at the chat, “I feel like I need a new name for you guys. Calling you guys after two years of streaming is just... weird, no? I also don’t respect men so I don’t want to call you guys. Like, so many creator’s have, like, a name for their fans. Uhm, Cody Ko has the chodesters, Kurtis Conner has, uh, folks? Kurtis Town? Citizens! Markiplier has mommy issues--” You can’t help snorting, “So, I’ve been, like, thinking - I know, shocking! - so I was thinking I’m gonna name you cockroaches. Because you’re grimy little shits impossible to kill. And also then I can use the legendary Minaj meme ROACHES!”

Your stream enthusiastically echoes ROACHES, making the chat swim. Yes, if anyone would enjoy such a name, it would be your audience. You’re as equally proud as you are disturbed.

“Well, anyway.” Leaning back into your chair, you throw your arms out with a bright grin, “Big dick is back in town, baby! If you noticed the backdrops different, it’s cuz I’m in Brooklyn now. Don’t ask me when I will return to Always Sunny, I don’t plan that far ahead.”

While Minecraft boots up, you decide to answer a few questions.

r u dating sykkuno?

You want to smack your head into the keyboard, but as it is, you can’t exactly afford a new one, so you refrain, “No, Sykkuno and I are not dating, we are just good friends. Uhm, I’m not sure how much I’ll have to repeat this, but, we really aren’t, so if the roaches could chill - Oh my God, that sounds so stupid, I love it - uh, yeah, if the roaches could chill that’d be great.”

the roaches lmao sounds like we’re a sports team

“Oh shit, yeah it does, uh-- maybe I can make like, jerseys or something. That’d be cool, I think.”

how disappointed are your parents with the way your life turned out?

“My parents are actually not disappointed at all!” You say with a cute little smile, “Uhm, they’re both really proud, actually. They’re glad I found something I love doing and made a job outta it. Dad finds my Youtube videos endearing. Yes, they watch pretty much all of my videos, unless I explicitly tell them not to. And yeah, with all the fucks and thirsting for anime characters. Uhm, it was very embarrassing at first, but I mean, after a while, shame just...doesn’t exist anymore, I guess? Funny thing about my parents, actually, when they watch my videos-” You eye catches a comment, “Oh! No, they only watch my Youtube videos. They don’t know how to use Twitter, thank God. Uhm, anyway-- when they hear a name they don’t know, like, I dunno, Dabi, or something, they google--” You’re grinning by now, eyes crinkling, giggling softly, “--who that is, and buy me like, merch and stuff. It’s really cute.

can i be adopted by ur parents plz

will you and corpse ever collab?!

You were about to answer, though the man of the hour himself decides to do it for you.

Corpse_Husband: yes.

Okay, not to say your heart skipped a beat, but it totally did. With a pleased smile, you nod, like one of those bobble head toys sold at the dollar store. The motion is oddly reminiscent of Sykkuno’s own nod. Perhaps you had picked it up from him. The chat seems to notice.

pack it up, sykkuno

More questions pile about this mysterious collab you and Corpse are planning. Yeah, you’d like to hear more about it, too, since he single highhandedly decided one was happening right now. Corpse remains silent. Fine, keep your secrets.

“Okay, guys, oh, I mean, roaches, Oh my God--” You’re covering your mouth, giggling, “-calling all roaches, calling all roaches, calm down. Everyone grab a snack and a blanket I’m turning up the music volume so we can all chill. Entering chill zone. Entering chill zone. Roaches, prepare.”

we are prepared

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An hour or so passes and you grow hungry. It shows with the amount of cakes you had baked in your server. Currently, you find yourself throwing eggs at the wall of one of the renovated houses, your face scrunched in concentration and slight frustration. 24 of the 50 eggs have been wasted. “What’s a girl gotta do to get some chicks around here?” you had uttered under your breath, until, finally, a screech - the egg finally spawns a mob. Your mouth falls open, “Aww, look!” You approach it, so small, walking in zigzags beside you, “It’s a baby chicken! Die, bitch.” The baby chicken is no more as you swing your bedazzled (you have mods) diamond sword. You’re cackling by the time the dust settles.

y/n is a child murderer

“Roaches,” You address your fan-base, spurring another fit of laughter - you can’t get over the name, “I think I’m like, forgetting that eating in Minecraft won’t actually make less hungry in real life.”

take a break and go eat queen <3

“Fuck no, we starve and die like men. Now I actually really need another chicken.”

Another twenty minutes trickle by and you’re trying to lure back a panda from the jungle when there’s a knock on your bedroom’s door. Whipping your head to the side, you slide down your headphones. At the same time, your mom pokes her head through the ajar door, “MOM!” You scream, “Get OUT of my room I’m playing Minecraft!” But your yell has no actual bite to it, as you don’t manage to hide your smile. Your mom laughs, doing some sort of sign language and motioning for you to follow her with her head. That or it’s some sort of performative dance.

“I’m live right now,” You tell her, pointing at your screen. She knows this already, though, “do you want to say hi?”

The roaches spam the chat with friendly hellos. You mom, quite impatient now, waves you over.

“Sorry, roaches, mom needs something. Be back in a bit!”

Stopping the stream, you rush out of your seat and pleased she slinks into the hallway. “What’s this about?”

“Your pizza came.”

“My what now?” You echo, confused.

“Domino’s. You ordered pizza?”

“What? No? I was busy with the stream, I never--”

Thankfully, you had managed to grab your phone from your room before you exited. You almost choke on spit once you read the messages.

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You decide that it’ll be impossible to stream after experiencing what you had just experienced. You tweet out a quick apology to the roaches (God, that fucking name) and say that you had a breakdown but you’re okay. That is as a close to the truth as you managed to muster. It’s a sad sight, chewing and crying; your mom winced when she saw your state - disheveled hair and rundown eyeliner and everything. “D’aww,” She had muttered, caressing the top of your head, “don’t cry my little raccoon.”

If anyone was ever to ask you where did your chaotic nature come from, you’d answer with my mom. To make yourself feel better, you took a selfie - duck face and peace sign and the horrible 2000′s angle. Sent it to Rae.

looking hot, her message read.

thanks, was all you replied with.

You couldn’t just leave things as they were. Once you calmed down, you wanted to text Corpse, but how would you follow up the ungodly caps lock and screeching? Impossible. An idea sprung to mind, one that was brave. Taking the first step.

Instead of sending a text, you sent a voice memo.

“Thank you for the pizza, it was delicious.”

You voice still sounded a bit raspy. His reply was instant. Your heart skipped a beat. He sent a voice memo back.

“Glad you liked it, baby.”

He was going to be the death of you.

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tags (in italics is those i couldn’t tag! make sure all’s ok w your settings!) : @littlebabysandboxburritos - @fairywriter-oracle - @tsukishimawh0re - @ofstarsanddreams - @bbecc-a - @annshit - @leahh19 - @letsloveimagines - @bellomi-clarke - @wineandionysus - @guiltydols - @onephootinfrontoftheother - @liamakorn - @thirstyfangirl - @lilysdaydreams - @pan-ini - @mxqicshxp - @tanchosanke - @yoshinorecommends - @flightsandfantasy - @liljennyx3 - @slashersdream - @unknown-and-invisible - @sinister-sleep - @fivedicksinatrenchcoat - @mercury–moon - @peterparkerspjsuit - @unstableye - @simonsbluee - @shinyshimaagain - @ppopty - @siriuslystupid - @crapimahuman - @ofthedewthesunlight - @mythicalamphitrite - @artsyally - @corpsesimpp - @corpsewhitetee - @corpse-husbandsimp - @hyp-oh-critical - @roses-and-grasses - @rhyrhy462 - @sparklylandflaplawyer - @charbkgo - @airwaveee - @creativedogs - @kaitlyn2907 - @loxbbg - @afuckingunicornn - @fleurmoon - @yeolliedokai - @truly-dionysus - @multi-fandom-central707

more tags are in the comments bcs tumblr only allows me to tag 50 people max 💙

#corpse husband #corpse #corpse husband x reader #corpse x reader #corpse husband imagine #corpse social media au #corpse husband fanfic #social media au #corpse husband x y/n #corpse x y/n #corpse husband fic #reader #xreader #imagine #imagines #myso #make you say oh

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glowingbadger · 3 years

Note

Can I get a nsfw fic for Diluc where he and reader are vigilantes together? I feel like that would be hot af.

Oh-ho~ what a delightful concept, Friend Anon.

I feel like I've barely had time for fic-style stuff rather than headcanon stuff lately, so forgive me if this is like... idk.. less good xD I hope it's good idk agopwgj

Side note, y'all Genshin people tend to blow up my page every time I post something in this fandom but I get SO few actual requests for it, wtf is up with that

Diluc x GN Reader - vigilantes

NSFW 18+

There aren't many of your typical "dark back alleys" in Mondstadt, but they are there if you go looking for them. If you do, you're sure to make some friends and acquaintances of the sort who also go looking for such tucked away places. And tonight, you're expecting a meeting with a coworker.

You've been tracking a particular Treasure Hoarder for weeks now. He's a cut-throat sort, in that he literally cuts throats, and quite gleefully at that. He's scum, but he's a valuable asset. He's the only Treasure Hoarder idiotic and brave enough to have set foot inside of Mondstadt's walls as of late, and you're not about to lose the opportunity to track him back to his hive. And it shouldn't be too difficult to do so- as long as a certain "Darknight Hero" doesn't decide to step in.

Somehow, you have a feeling he will.

And as you crouch atop the sloping roof of a typical Mondstadt residence, observing your pet rat scurrying through alleyways he clearly doesn't know as well as he ought to by now, you glimpse a familiar flash of red. Moving as quickly as one can with a sword that matches his height while retaining some measure of stealth, Diluc clearly has your subject in his sights. You barely contain a sigh, your brow lowered in flat exasperation.

You'll have to act quickly- Diluc is rapidly closing in on your only source of intel, blade at the ready and eyes devoid of mercy. Never taking your eyes from his dark silhouette in the alley below, you gracefully maneuver from the roof to a nearby balcony banister, then down a railing. Your feet meet the stone pavement silently just as muscles flex and the greatsword hefts into the air above a fiery mane of hair. Without a sound, you draw your own blade and press it firmly to Diluc's throat. He hesitates for just a moment, his surprise causing his footing to waver for the instant you need to tug him back against the wall.

"You-" he hisses with fury in his eyes, "What are you doing?!"

"Keeping you from killing my only lead!" you shout-whisper back to him as the Treasure Hoarder slides around the corner and into the open streets. He's a lost cause now- acting out in the open would draw unacceptable attention to both you and Diluc. For now, the edge of your sword indents his skin, emphasizing the unfortunately seductive sight of his adams apple bobbing as he swallows hard.

"He's a killer." he spits out bitterly.

"Yes," you reply, "And so are all of his friends. And the only way to snuff them all out is to let him live- for now."

His weapon vanishes for the time being, but you know his strength well enough to know that this does not make him 'unarmed.'

"Go join the Knights if you enjoy wasting time so much."

"Oh, perhaps I should," you say, "It was a Knight who gave me the intel to track this target, after all," the playful lilt in your voice guides him to the exact conclusion you want him to reach. What you don't expect is for Diluc to use his considerable strength to spin you back against the wall, jostling your sword from your hand and swapping your positions, with your wrists now pinned to the plaster behind you. You're startled for a moment- but not so much so that you miss the way his eyes scan your body before him.

"It was a strutting peacock that needs its beak removed, more like," he says, his voice low as he looms over you. Your bodies are so close, the space between you seems charged with electricity.

"Is that a touch of jealousy I hear?"

"You're infuriating," he gives this utter non-answer just before his lips reach yours. His kiss is deep and intense from the start, pressing you to the wall as his tongue thrusts into your mouth.

This has always been your favorite way to vent your mutual frustration. There's something about each of you that only the other knows; a part of you both that only the two of you have access to. Those cordoned off sections of your hearts instinctively reach toward one another, binding you and the Darknight Hero together despite all of the myriad ways you find yourselves at odds. Adrenaline and emotion drives your bodies together, and your pulse pounds as his tongue wrestles yours and the warmth of his body catches yours on fire.

You do your best to keep up with Diluc's frenzied need, parted lips working rhythmically against his, yet you can feel the rush of arousal through your body and the fight leaves you almost instantly. In one final act of provocation, you urge your thigh between his, rubbing it gently against the growing heat you feel there. His cock twitches with interest, hardening against the front of his pants. Diluc groans into your kiss, his hands releasing yours to travel down the contours of your sides.

When those strong hands reach your backside, they shamelessly grab at your curves, pulling you firmly against him and encouraging your thighs around his hips. Your feet are barely touching the ground anymore, and you can feel his growing cock grinding into your heat. His impatience is as evident in his touch as it's always been in his fighting style; though, the difference is that now, you're happy to match his pace. Thoroughly trapped between his body and the wall, your hands run across his chest, happily indulging in the plains of muscle beneath conservative clothing.

Then, you nip at his bottom lip, dragging it between your teeth and revelling in the husky groan this pulls from him. His hips sway against you, rubbing the head of his now rock-hard member against you. Quite suddenly, his hands leave your body, then instead, cup both sides of your face. Diluc holds you in place as he kisses you so hard and deep that your legs tremble and you worry your knees may give. And at last, the airy moan you offer him in reply seems to break the last of his restraint.

"Towards the wall," his urgent whisper grazes your skin, and it's all you can do to keep from moaning at the intoxicating, masculine tenor of his voice. Instead, you obey him, turning to the wall, only to feel him pinning you once more from behind. His lips are at your ear, his tongue tracing its curve, until he says softly,

"Truly a shame you can't always be this cooperative."

"I- I'm very cooperative when it gets me what I want..." you half-moan as his lips press heated kisses down the side of your neck. His fevered touch is everywhere, running up your sides to caress your chest, fingers briefly circling your nipples and causing you to arch against him.

"One day I'll make you beg for it." he muses softly, less like any 'dirty talk' you've ever heard, and far more like he's scolding you. Either way, it sends a hot wave of arousal plunging to your core. With a soft whimper, you urge your ass back against him, grinding onto the stiff length of his cock. Tonight won't be the night you beg, but you do need to show him how badly you want him- and he graciously complies.

Diluc's thumbs hook into the hem of your breeches and tug them down over the curve of your ass. Despite his own wants and needs, he does pause to appreciate the sight of you offering yourself to him, lower body exposed and face flushed when you glance over your shoulder at him. A single large hand runs over your backside, cupping and grabbing at it idly, enjoying the sight of your flesh over-filling his grip. Then, with a low hum, his eyes meet yours as he opens the front of his trousers and reveals his thick, twitching manhood to you. It's dark and veined, a powerful, masculine member that practically makes your mouth water- and you can't stifle an eager whine as he positions himself behind you once more.

The warm head of his cock presses to your greedy little hole, and Diluc wastes no time pushing himself steadily into you. With each inch, he splits you open around him, and your body tenses and arches against his strong frame.

"Diluc..!" you gasp out the moment he's buried into you to the base and his tip hits your core. Sometimes you think you'll never truly be accustomed to how fully he fills you.

"Quiet," he whispers harshly, though the way the full length of his cock swells at your cry tells him he quite enjoys hearing you. Yet as his hips begin to move and the veins and contours of his cock grind against your inner walls, it becomes harder and harder to keep your voice down. He feels too incredible, reaches too deep, stretches you out so nicely around him until you fit him perfectly. Your entire body burns, and you cling to the wall in front of you to take some of the strain off of your trembling legs. Before long, you're gasping and panting for him as he bucks into you, the head of his cock dragging against some indescribably wonderful spot each time he thrusts forward.

"You're so... difficult..." he grumbles, and you hear him move, unsure of what he's doing until you feel his gloveless hand sliding fingers into your mouth. Your eyes roll back, your body clenches and squeezes around Diluc's shaft. Perhaps he'd only meant to keep you quiet, but the depravity of being fucked senseless by the most sought-after gentleman in Mondstadt in a back alley while being made to suck on his fingers is simply too erotic to withstand. Your lips and tongue worship those fingers as he pounds you against the wall, railing into your desperate body until the hot, winding knot of pleasure in your gut comes undone in a sudden, mind-numbing rush.

"Nngh- gods...!" even Diluc, with all of his strict self discipline, can't keep from groaning as your climax seizes you. He can feel your body tense and release, feel your inner walls tightening and gripping around him, clinging around his cock like you can't bear to be without it. He draws closer, his hard chest against your back, his head sinking down to the crook of your neck. His thrusts lose their timing, uneven and inelegant as he nears his own release.

You feel the sting of his teeth at your flesh. Diluc silences his own sounds of pleasure, burying his face at your neck and sucking a dark love-bite to your skin. But even this jolt of wonderful pain can't distract you from the way his cock flexes deep within you, swelling and straining out against your tight hole. Then, at last, his breath catches, and his cum begins to shoot out into you. The first impact causes you to whine around his fingers, which he punishes with a harsher bite at your shoulder muscle, even as he continues to fill you. Wild red hair brushes your face as you rally your strength to keep yourself in place for him and he fucks the remainder of his climax into your waiting body. For a moment, he holds within you. You each struggle to regain composure and steady your breathing- no easy feat when his manhood is stubbornly refusing to soften even the slightest bit. Then, with a barely restrained sigh, Diluc eases out of your spent hole.

His hand comes to rest on the wall in front of you, trapping you against his body for a moment longer. You have just enough room to move your hands to tug up your clothing and cover up, and he does the same with his free hand. But before releasing you, he places a lingering kiss to the spot just below where your jawline meets your ear. It's a surprisingly tender spot, and the soft warmth of his lips seems to spread across your skin from that point.

"Be safe getting home." he murmurs, and you find yourself wishing dearly that you could see his expression as he says it. Though, perhaps he fully intends to keep that image from you. Then, he straightens his posture, the cool night air filling the space where his body had warmed you.

"And next time," he adds, having regained his usual business-like tone, "Don't expect me to be so generous if you stand in my way."

#diluc #diluc x reader #genshin impact #genshin impact x reader #x reader #genshin smut #genshin impact imagines #genshin impact fic #diluc smut

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moonamite · 3 years

Text

About Spamton.

Spamton started out as an unlucky, but normal guy. One stranger on the phone sent his career skyrocketing into incredible success. But then the stranger disappeared one day, causing Spamton to plummet as fast as he had risen. We all are pretty familiar with his story by now, but now allow me to over-interpret everything and explain why I think Spamton is actually a well-written and tragic complex character, but mostly these 2 screenshots of his dialogue. Whenever Spamton talks normally, I view it as moments of clarity for him. So why did it happen then, why so abruptly, and why on the topic of fear? I think the line “... Can anyone hear me? Help...” Can be interpreted in 2 ways. One is that Spamton became stable for a short period of time, and with said time, let out a weak cry for help. As if he is trapped in his own body- A puppet on a string, some may say. The other way to see it is a flashback. Hear me out: This is him reliving a dark moment of his life. Specifically when it was all falling apart. After his rapid and glorious success, he was terrified when it started slipping away from him, and his life was falling out of his hands and out of his control. Desperate to not loose everything he had, he tried calling for the stranger. He’d keep calling again and again, and continue doing so for hours. “Can anyone hear me? Help...” But nobody came- Just garbage noises. Eventually, he gave up. The silence was deafening. What would happen to him? He’d be kicked out of the mansion sooner or later... Where would he go then? He remembered his friends back home- And something dawned on him. He hadn’t heard from them in... so long. The last time they hung out was before his rise to wealth. He’d been so wrapped up in his own world that he didn’t even notice they’d stopped seeing him. They left him. As soon as he realized this, he came to yet another, more painful realization. He was completely alone now. Alone and afraid. Once he stop receiving the calls, he was then pretty much slapped in the face with the realization he had nobody left in the world who was there for him. Nobody to turn to, nobody to trust, and nobody who cared about him. He realized how lonely he really was, and that horrified him. He was scared to be alone. Not like being alone in a room by yourself, but knowing you have nobody to catch you when you fall. Plus the fact that soon after, everyone would forget him, and he’d go right back to being a nobody. He is then evicted, and with nobody to take him in, goes to the dumpster. Which is where the second screenshot comes in. He all alone in the dumpster. He’s never felt so lonely and cold. Before being evicted, he’d tried calling the stranger again, with the same results. Frustrated and desperate, he’d cry and yell into the receiver, screaming until he lost his voice. He’d also begun praying to a machine, this being a part of him loosing himself, his mind. He was loosing everything he had so fast, his life spiraling out of control. He needed something, anything to save him. He heard the machine could achieve wonders with just the right item... But it did nothing for him in the end, no matter how he prayed or begged. He was grabbed and tossed out, left with himself, and only himself. His old self was completely gone by this point. All that was left was his Salesperson persona. It slowly consumed him after being kicked out, and was now at its worst. But a small part of his true self still remained, and would occasionally break through his mental cage and give small moments of control. Lying at the bottom of a dumpster, quietly speaking the names of the friends he once had... He was truly miserable, his brain rotting just like the rest of the trash he laid with. But then he heard something... Footsteps... The rapid rise to fame and then the downhill slope must’ve been hard to take in. Then realizing he has no one left. The mental damage was pretty much inevitable. Do I support the Gaster theory? Pretty much. I also have a headcanon that the one controlling him was Gaster, and with each phone call, slowly seeped into his brain like mercury. Taking advantage of Spamton’s already weakened mind, he went from influencing his thoughts to completely controlling his body, making Spamton a literal puppet, and turning his own body into a prison. Thank you for coming to my ted talk

#Spamton #deltarune chapter two #deltarune headcanon #anyways #Wanna see my au ideas for this lil dude lol

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seokjinsonlyone · 3 years

Text

Not My Type | 3

pairing: jungkook x female reader

summary: "She's a lot more than nice, so you need to be careful."

genre: friends to lovers

warnings: none; jimin here tho being flirty and stirring the pot <3333

rating: pg

wc: 1.7k

part 1 | part 2 | part 3

Jungkook’s newfound hobby was driving her crazy. One too many times had their little lunch rendezvous made its way into her mind in the past week. The way he sniffed her hair oddly enough was a recurring playback. She had a thing for weirdos and Jungkook could definitely be classified as that. And, that was exactly why she needed to shut this whole thing down.

Now, she considered herself a progressive individual. She didn’t mind change as long as it was for the better. She didn’t have a problem evolving her relationship with a friend. In fact, she preferred it. Always said that if she was gonna get into it, she wanted to be with a friend. But, this particular friendship wasn’t the one. It wouldn’t make sense. There was no way it could possibly be better.

They were like oil and water. They didn’t mix. Which was fine as a friendship, they could peacefully coexist. Anything more than that, however, would be an unnecessary burden. And, her life didn’t need to be anymore difficult than it already was. She wanted an easy love. It was this line of reasoning that carried her straight to her best friend’s house.

“You need to talk to your friend,” she announced, waltzing into Jimin’s home, throwing her purse on the couch before finding him sitting at the island eating cereal.

He looked up. “I’ve already told you should just ask Taemin out. He’ll most likely say yes. He thinks you’re hot. Stop trying to get me to create scenarios.”

“And, I’ve already told you I refuse to pursue a man. No matter how dreamy and evil he is,” she sighed.

In all honesty, she probably would’ve gone for it if it weren’t for the fact that she could tell he wasn’t really into her. Not in the way she would’ve liked for him to be into her. He flirted with her in person (and in her dms), held her in a way that made her stomach jump after a few drinks, but ultimately his goal was a few nights in the sheets. And, that just wasn’t her thing. She didn’t do casual. Didn’t like to invite people into her life that weren’t going to stay. So even though she thought they could be good together, she was deciding to let this one go. If he couldn’t see what was right in front of him that was on him.

“You’re gonna end up alone.”

“You must realize that I am my favorite person.” He rolled his eyes. “Anyway, I wasn’t talking about him. I was talking about Jungkook.”

“What he do?”

“He’s been acting weird ever since last week.”

“What happened last week?”

She sucked her teeth. “You know, when we were all here?”

He narrowed his eyes at her, pupils shifting from side to side, visibly racking his brain trying to recall what happened at his place last week. “Oh! Wednesday! I was so drunk, bro. What happened?”

“Ugh. You don’t remember asking me to rank all of y’all from most to least my type?” Typical Jimin. Cause trouble then dip.

“What’d you rank me?” he asked, wiggling his eyebrows.

“I ain’t doing this again.”

He dropped his legs from the footrest of the barstool, tugging her closer and wrapping an arm around her waist. “Mmm. You couldn’t handle me either way.”

She’s not gonna lie, her heart skipped a beat. But, that’s the only reason he did it in the first place. He knew it flustered her on some level. So, she decided to play along for once, bringing her hand up to toy with the hair that rested at the back of his neck. “Baby boy, I could make you cry,” she whispered seductively.

He made a face, then pushed her away turning his attention back to his cereal. “You’re gross.”

“You started it,” she accused, laughter bubbling up at his reaction. He was CEO of “Do as I say, not as I do.” Always in the mood to dish it out, but hardly able to take it in return.

“So, what’s going on? Why do I need to talk to him?”

“Because I told him he wasn’t my type, and now he’s trying to convince me that he is.”

He choked. “What?”

“He literally showed up at my work the other day and brought me lunch.”

“That was more so directed at you saying Jungkook isn’t your type.”

“He’s not.” He raised his eyebrows, smirking conspiratorially. “He isn’t,” she insisted.

“So, you didn’t used to drool over him when you two first met?”

“See why you gotta go and bring up the past.” She wouldn’t say that she had a full blown crush on him, she didn’t know him and therefore couldn’t actually like him, but for a minute she was down bad. She wasn’t expecting to meet him when she did. Jimin had wanted to hang out and asked for a ride. He was with Jungkook when she picked him up and she was effectively caught off guard. Before she even realized what she was doing, she was out of the car and shaking hands with him in greeting. The next few weeks were spent trying her hardest to be in his presence. She never said more than two words to the boy, but yeah she was down bad. Once her hormones subsided, though, they eventually developed a friendship. A friendship that needed to stay a friendship. “Besides, I never said he wasn’t hot. I’m saying our personalities don’t match up. It wouldn’t work.”

“You aren’t that different from each other.”

“Yeah, but we’re wrong in just the right ways. It wouldn’t work.” He was right in saying that weren’t all that dissimilar, but it was because of that that she was sure starting any kind of relationship with romantic intent would go up in flames. The two were like parallel lines. Never meant to cross. Adjacent, but never intersecting. As they should.

“It sounds to me like you’re just afraid of what could happen.”

“Hold on there partner. I didn’t come here to be lectured or psychoanalyzed. I don’t even think he likes me for real, but he’s heading down a slippery slope. I just want you to talk to him before he goes and starts something that’s gonna get his feelings hurt, alright?”

“Yeah, yeah. I’ll see what I can do.” One thing about Jimin was that he was nosy. Had absolutely zero qualms about getting all up in other people’s business. Knowledge equals power is what he always told himself. So, if she hadn’t come to him voluntarily offering up this information, he would’ve picked up on it sooner or later, inserting himself in the middle of it all. As it stands, he’s been giving explicit permission to do some digging. All he has to do is wait for the opportunity to arise.

The opportunity came a few days later. Jungkook was sitting on his couch, phone in hand, completely zoned out when Jimin pounced.

“So... Y/N?”

Jungkook startled at the mention of her name. It wasn’t like he was just thinking about her. He definitely wasn’t about to text her. He hadn’t spent the past minutes in a daze typing, deleting, and retyping messages to send. Nope. “Huh?”

“Y/N? What’s going on with you and her?” Jimin asked again.

“What do you mean? Nothing’s going on,” he feigned innocence, voice raising an octave. Even though, for all intents and purposes, there really wasn’t anything going on.

He looked him up and down, raising an eyebrow. “That’s not what she said.”

“What did she say?” She talked about him?

“You tell me.” He smirked sitting down, crossing one leg over the other like some kind of therapist.

“I don’t know. We had lunch,” he mumbled.

“Why?”

“Because I thought she might be hungry.”

“And this has nothing to do with the fact that she said you’re not her type?”

He blew raspberries into the air. He couldn’t lie to Jimin even if he tried. The man always managed to see right through him. A consequence of nearly ten years of friendship. “I’m just trying to get to know her better,” he insisted.

“Why?”

“Because she’s nice.” Which wasn’t the complete truth, but if he admitted that he thought she had stars in her eyes he’d never hear the end of it.

“She’s a lot more than nice, so you need to be careful.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means that she’s one of the best people I know, but she’s stubborn and once she has an idea in her head it’s very hard for her to let go.”

“So you think I should stop?”

“I think you shouldn’t go into this blind, is all I’m saying. Whatever you’re doing, probably won’t be easy. And, I don’t want you to get hurt. Or hurt her. What do you plan on doing if you manage to make her like you? If you’re not serious then I think you should stop.” Jimin patted his shoulder, then got up leaving him to his thoughts.

Jungkook heard what he was saying. He did. And, he was right. He hadn’t been thinking too hard about what he was doing. Honestly, he was just following the skip in his heartbeat and so far that led him to her. There was a very real possibility of him getting his feelings hurt. She was very strong willed. Couldn’t budge her mind with a bulldozer. So, if she was dead set on being against this, there wasn’t much he could do anyway.

Still, this wasn’t something he could let go of easily. He had no intentions of hurting her. It wasn’t just some conquest for him. That much he was sure of. He would hate to get closer to her, have her catch feelings for him, then dip because he wasn’t feeling it. But, he seriously doubted that would happen. It’s not like they were complete strangers. He was just seeing her in a new light now. And as much as he didn’t want anyone to get hurt, at this point he didn’t know if this was something he should even avoid. It didn’t seem like it.

Truthfully, he didn’t feel this way often. This pull he now felt toward her. He was usually much too caught up in trying to be the best version of himself he could be to entertain thoughts of others. However, right now she had his attention and he didn’t want to look away. He opened his text thread with her typing and finally sending a message before he could overthink it.

[10:53pm] jk: lunch tomorrow?

#bts fic #bts fluff #bts fanfic #bts fanfiction #bts x reader #jungkook x reader #jungkook fic #jungkook fluff #jungkook drabble #jeon jungkook x reader #jeon jungkook fic #jeon jungkook drabble #jungkook fanfic #jungkook fanfiction

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wonderfulworldofmichaelford · 2 years

Text

Episodyssey: The First Turnabout

So I don’t watch a lot of TV shows, which makes Episodyssey seem like a pointless waste of a review series. I thought I’d have more ideas by this point, y’know? But after the first few things I reviewed there just wasn’t anything that jumped out at me as worth talking about, and I haven’t watched more What If yet, so… yeah.

But then I had an idea. What if I talked about Ace Attorney? Each case is sort of like an episode in the wider story after all. And it’s my review show, goddamnit! I’ll do what I want! So let’s talk about the main cases of the Ace Attorney series, starting at the very start.

Since the first cases are usually pretty short (well, for the first couple games, anyway), I’ll sum up my feelings on the games as well. The first Ace Attorney is truly a classic, but much like every kickstarter of a great franchise (Crash, Spyro, Ratchet & Clank, Devil May Cry), it’s very rough around the edges. So much of what we will come to know and love the series for is here right at the start, from the quirky characters, punny names, and clever writing, but there’s only one truly amazing case in the entire game and the rest are just all over the place in terms of quality. I cut this game a lot of slack because it is the first one, and truth be told none of the cases are really bad, there was just definitely room to improve.

At any rate, they got the weakest case in the game out of the way first. “The First Turnabout” is our tutorial level, and our easing into the series. Here we are introduced to the basics of Phoenix Wright, and we get to meet series mainstays like Mia Fey, Larry Butz, Winston Payne, and the lovable old coot who presides over the trials. We’re given the world’s most simple mystery, and the absolute easiest killer in the entire series to catch. It’s simple, easy stuff that you can just slide right into.

...But it’s maybe too easy. The first game certainly has a nice difficulty slope, but the first case just feels like way too much of a softball. You can literally beat this one without pressing a single one of Frank Sahwit’s statements, he is that bad at lying. Again, though, this is the first case, the tutorial, the very first piece of Phoenix Wright material we see, so it’s hard to get really mad at this case. It’s just a really easy little trial to show you the ropes before the next two cases start to throw curveballs at you and make you put more effort into things. It’s definitely a fairly weak trial, but it’s hard to totally hate it.

And now, since every trial has a villain, it’s time for...

Psycho Analysis: Frank Sahwit

Frank here has the distinction of being one of the few killers who you actually see doing the deed in the little pre-trial cutscene, but it’s not like this is a big deal because he is one of the most blatant villains in the series. He’s honestly kind of pathetic, really.

Motivation/Goals: Frank’s just a petty criminal, really. He was out to make a quick buck, and accidentally killed Larry’s girlfriend in a panic. Not that this excuses him or makes him less pathetic, mind you, and apparently when he reappears in Ace Attorney Investigations 2 he’s an unrepentant dick so really Frank just does everything for self-serving, pathetic reasons.

Meltdown: As every villain has an epic courtroom meltdown, I’ll be detailing them here. Frank’s is rather simple: He rips off his toupee, throws it at Phoenix, froths at the mouth, and then collapses. If I were as bad at lying as Frank is, I’m pretty sure I’d react like this too.

Best Scene: His return in AAI2, where he is marginally more competent (but still a huge loser). It’s honestly amazing this dude came back at all.

Final Thoughts & Score: Look, Frank is basically just a starter villain, so I can’t judge him too hard. This is baby’s first trial,and baby needs an easy victory to feel good. That’s what Frank provides. Still… did he have to suck so hard? Did he have to take absolutely no effort? Later games would certainly rectify this, with Trials & Tribulations, Apollo Justice, and Spirit of Justice in particular featuring first cases with awesome and memorable killers who put up quite a fight and tested your knowledge. I get they were finding their footing here, but I don’t think it would have been too much to ask for a bit more of a challenge for Phoenix Wright’s first real case.

Frank’s definitely a 3/10, and I’m really being generous here. I dunno, he sucks, but in a way he’s kind of endearing with how shitty he is, you know? Just the way he moves and the way he tosses his toupee and his general faux affable demeanor, he’s kind of charming in a way. And whatever else, it’s not like he’s the worst first villain in the series.

#Episodyssey #Psycho Analysis #Ace Attorney #The First Turnabout

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drysdaales · 2 years

Text

seven sentence sun monday

thank you to everyone who has tagged me in the past weeks, ( @gayravi @probieeddie @queerpanikkar @hattalove @clusterbuck @hoediaz @fiona-fififi @bibuddie @thatbuddie @ekstasisandqueerangst and many more who i am sure i am forgetting)

here is seven sentences of something :)

He checks his watch—he’s early, so he checks his phone, and there’s a text from his ex-wife, Shannon, that says break a leg! and a selfie of his son and his aunt giving him a thumbs up. Give them hell, Pepa had texted, and Christopher, right underneath, typed out good luck love you with no punctuation. He tries his damnedest not to cry about it.

The corridor is long and artfully decorated, black and white photos of productions through the years littering the walls. He spots an old production of Don Quixote and an original work, fourthreetwo, both before Bobby Nash’s time. He wonders if these photographs are Bobby’s idea, or if the memoriam, as it seems to be, is at someone else’s insistence.

There’s one that catches his eyes, an artistic shot of a man, his face half-hidden in shadow, holding his hand out to a woman en pointe. The slopes of their noses are the same, and they have the same sad longing in their eyes. Evan Buckley, corps de ballet, the caption reads, in his first performance with his sister, Maddie Buckley, principal, in In the Night (2017).

Evan Buckley. Eddie’s drawn to him, to the expression on his face, to the way he holds himself. His technique isn’t flawless, and yes, Eddie can tell by the photograph, but his face is something special. He has heart, Eddie thinks, and—if the years are any indication—endless ability to improve.

“Eddie Diaz?”

tagging liiike anyone who wants to do this (and yes you can wait til sunday slkdjfhlk) @homerforsure @mellaithwen @kitkatpancakestack and like literally anyone else who wants to PLEASE

#grace speaks #my writing #sss #hmmmm

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fruitcoops · 3 years

Note

Hi! I'm new to your blog and I've been going through your masterlist and I wanted to request something. I haven't come across it yet so, sorry if this has been requested before. Angsty coops? Where maybe Sirius has been having trouble going about his day with his healing ribs, and Remus wants to help him but Sirius keeps pushing him away? Only if you want to, of course! I've loved all your stories I've read, they're so great :) <3

This is slightly different than your request, but it has the same broken ribs hurt/ comfort theme, so I hope you enjoy! I combined it with @thesmokeandflame‘s request for some Coops nightmare comfort <3 SW credit goes to @lumosinlove!

TW for broken bones, medicine, nightmares, and swelling/ bruises (mentioned)

Remus is cold at night, now. It’s silly, when he thinks about it—Sirius is mere feet away from him, but the pillow that divides them may as well be a canyon. He settles for holding his hand tight and praying that Sirius’ stubbornness also manifests in his ability to heal. He misses the solid warmth of Sirius’ body next to his own so much it aches.

Tonight is no different; Remus gets into bed after Sirius has already been asleep for twenty minutes, watching the shadows play over the angles of his face. He is peaceful in sleep. There is no pain, no frustration, no twist to his mouth that Remus wants to smudge away. He breathes, deep and soft, and Remus laces their hands together before he allows the sound to lull him to sleep.

A sharp gasp and sudden burning in his hand wakes him, and he bolts upright. “Sirius?”

“Fuck.” Sirius’ breaths are coming fast and he screws his eyes shut around a cry of pain.

“Sirius, what’s wrong?” Remus feels utterly useless as his skin turns white in Sirius’ grip, skimming his free hand over the still-swollen skin of his chest.

“Mes côtes, mes côtes, fuck.” A tear slides down to Sirius’ ear from terror-bright eyes; he can’t catch his breath and a whine slips through his gritted teeth. Ribs. My ribs, my ribs.

All lingering tendrils of sleep flee Remus’ mind as he leans over, careful not to bump him while he reaches up to cradle the side of his face. “Shh, love, you’re alright. You’re alright, just hold on to me. Deep breaths.”

Sirius clutches his forearms in desperation. “I can’t,” he gasps. “I can’t, I can’t, Remus.”

“Yes, you can.” Remus cards his fingers through the sweaty hair just above his right ear and shushes him gently, using his other hand to rub small circles on Sirius’ palm. His face is tight with pain as he struggles for breath. “In and out, baby, you’re okay.”

“Don’t go,” he pants, meeting Remus’ gaze like a wild, frantic creature. “Don’t leave me, please.”

“I’m not going anywhere.” Remus tilts his head down to kiss Sirius’ hand as it scrambles for a hold on his bare shoulder; his heartbeat hammers beneath Remus’ touch. “What happened?”

“Hurts.” Sirius’ chest caves for a second and he squeezes Remus’ thumb. “Hurts so much, oh god.”

“Did you move?”

“I—you were leaving.” A whining sob sets off another wince as Remus’ heart leaps into his throat. The hand on his shoulder is clumsy with fear and tremors. “I woke up and tried to turn over and—and then I couldn’t breathe and—”

“Sirius, focus,” he says, keeping his tone as even as possible. He traces Sirius’ smooth cheekbone with the pad of his thumb until their eyes meet; the next breath is uneven, but slower than before. “Look at me. I’m not going anywhere.”

“What time is it?”

“Just past midnight. You’ve still got two and a half hours until you can take your meds.”

Sirius leans his face into Remus’ palm with a shaky exhale. “Can I take them now?”

Everything in him wants to say yes, wants to take Sirius’ pain away by any means necessary, but he can’t. “Not yet, baby.”

“Are you sure?” Sirius’ weak voice and pleading eyes rip Remus’ poor, soft heart right in half.

“Yeah, I’m sure.” He kisses his forehead, then rests his own against the feverish skin. “We don’t need to add a fucked-up liver to the mix, right?”

“It hurts, Re.”

“I know.”

“I can’t sleep when it’s like this.”

Remis bites down hard on the inside of his lip, then nudges their noses together. “Two weeks and you’ll be good as new. The doctor said this is the hardest part, remember? You’re going to keep doing your exercises and keep taking your medicine, and we’ll get through it together.”

“In my dream, you left.” His warm hand splays over the side of Remus’ neck and the dip of his collarbone.

“Why would I do a stupid thing like that?”

Sirius sniffles. “I couldn’t play anymore. I couldn’t hold you. You just…left.”

“That’s not going to happen.” Something fierce rears its head behind Remus’ teeth and he holds Sirius’ hand over his heart. “Not now, not ever. Broken ribs aren’t a death sentence, and you’ll be back on the ice before you know it. I sure as shit am not going to leave you over this.”

“I love you.”

“I love you more. Do you want to try and sleep again?”

“It still hurts.”

“What kind?” Remus carefully feels along Sirius’ front, checking for any sign of new damage beneath the radiating heat.

“It was burning and sharp earlier, but now it’s…shit, what’s the word? Like a heartbeat, but bad?”

“Throbbing?” His heartbeat is, in fact, pulsing under the bruises by Remus’ fingertips.

Sirius snaps his fingers. “Exactly. It’s easier to breathe, though.”

“Do you want to take a shower?”

“I don’t think standing up is a good idea,” he says, pulling a face. “I’m thirsty, though. And kind of hungry. And way too warm.”

Remus sighs and tucks his face into Sirius’ neck for a moment; his familiar body heat is more of a relief than any ice pack could dream of being. There is a low hum under his cheek as Sirius turns his head to place a kiss by his temple, and he shuts his eyes to soak it in. “I would cuddle you if I could.”

“Moi aussi. Two weeks, mon loup.”

“Two weeks,” Remus repeats, straightening up again. “Try and rest, okay? I’ll grab some water and a snack so you don’t take your meds on an empty stomach.”

A flash of guilt flutters over his face in the darkness. “Sorry for waking you.”

“Don’t be sorry.” He kisses each of Sirius’ cheeks and lets his lips linger for a beat longer than usual. “I signed up for this. It’s literally my job, and I love spending time with you in any way I can.”

“Still—”

“Shh.” Remus holds his index finger over Sirius’ lips until they curl into a soft smile. “Next time I get hurt, you can get me snacks, okay?”

A light kiss presses against his first knuckle. “D’accord.”

Remus runs his finger over the light slope of Sirius’ nose, watching his eyes fall shut. “Rest. I’ll be back in a second.”

By the time he returns with a glass of water and a granola bar, Sirius is out cold once more. Remus smiles to himself and climbs back under the covers, then reaches out to hold his hand over the pillow barrier between them. Two more weeks. Just two more.

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sparetimeimagines · 3 years

Text

Mine | Bakugou Katsuki

Tags; Smut Pro Hero!Bakugou

Masterlist

“I’ve missed you.”

His lips pressed against yours, calloused fingers brushing your hair off your shoulder. Those same lips trailing your cheek, your jawline with soft mewls leaving your lips.

“Yes...” you moan arching your neck into a dangerous angle at his advantage.

“You left the lights on.” His hot breath kisses your skin with tension.

“I wanted you to find me...”

His sweaty palms slip under your thighs pulling you closer into him from against the wall.

Katsuki rolls his eyes with a slight chuckle and thick smirk.

He carries you to the bed racing the heart beating in your chest. His smirks stays, he lowering to your feet, kissing your ankles bit by bit.

The way your heart beats in your throat has you deaf only focusing on his touch. Goosebumps follow his touch, the gentle caressing no one would believe would come from Bakugou Katsuki unless they saw in person your intimate moments.

“You’re fucking beautiful.” His sharp tone says I’m between the kisses meeting your thighs. “And all mine.”

His cock hardens as he gets closer to your heat. His fingers tug on your bottoms, releasing your from their hold, he following suit with the remainder of your clothing until finally he has you bare against his sheets.

Katsuki rolls back onto his heels to get a full view of your body. He grasps his stiff member through his bottoms, biting his lower lip in resistance. A deep exhale and he’s crawling in between your legs with an arm wrapped around each thigh.

“You’re dripping Baby.” He teases you, a finger dipping into your folds, the sound of your wetness making him groan. “Oh, Baby. What have you done?”

He begins to rub slow rotations from your clit to your entrance, watching how your body relaxes with each cycle.

Katsuki removes his finger, placing a kiss on your clit before replacing his finger altogether with his tongue.

One long strip. One long strip and has you one hundred percent at his will.

“How’s it feel, Baby?” His voice follows his tongue lapping your folds.

“‘So good, Katsuki.” Your quiet whimper was enough to drive him feral.

“Yeah? Let me hear you.” He leaves a long strip. “You make the prettiest moans.”

His crimson eyes watch you from your sobbing pussy, his tongue working you to your high. “Baby...” He warns you, his finger sliding inside your delicate walls.

“Mmm Katsuki.” You gasp feeling him smirk.

“That’s my girl.” His tongue returns to your clit as his fingers add power to your rising high.

Your sweet lips pout in desperation, succumbing to his touching. He feels you tighten around his fingers, curling inside you with each moan you leak.

“Mm Baby... I can’t wait much longer... I want to feel you now.” He kisses your clit, pulling up to remove with bottoms.

He had been gone for weeks in preparation of his hero work. Those long nights and late phone calls just weren’t enough to satisfy him.

He leans over you, hovering his body atop of yours not to crush you.

“You’ve kept me waiting way too long.” He groans into your lips.

“Me?” You smirk and he nods.

“That sexy body, your gorgeous tits.” He bends down to kiss them briefly. “I want you now.”

Katsuki brings his two fingers to his lips, wetting his cock with spit and giving it a few strokes before sliding into you.

“Fuck baby.” He almost cums at the instant feeling of your warm cunt wrapped around his cock. He sits between your legs hesitant to move. “You’re so tight.”

Your jaw comes unlatched with the breath caught in your throat.

“Katsuki...” you cry out, attempting to slide along his cock though he grips your hips pushing that to a halt.

“Babe...” He growls slowly thrusting into you. “I won’t last if you keep doing that.”

“Mmmph.”

His calloused hands pin you down, letting himself fill you completely.

“Yes, Baby. You’re so perfect.” He slowly bottoms into you once more. “You were made for me.”

He builds his speed, the eagerness in his eyes gives away the passion he hides from his friends.

Katsuki leans forward and cups your face with one hand.

“God, I missed that face.” He kisses you and focuses on your expression as he fucks you. The way your cheeks grow red, your bottom lip tucked into your teeth when your sweet voice isn’t moaning his name for attention.

Your chest rises and falls with each forced breath as your high encounters on a slick slope.

“Yeah? My Baby feel good?” He smirks sweat glistening on his body as he grows a tint of red. He pulls your legs over his shoulder to one side, tugging them into his chest and fills you completely.

“Kacchan.” You gasp pushing back on his hips with your fingers as he continues to thrust into you.

“That’s right.” He grunts growing more reckless. The aggression fumes through his pores as the sound of your skin slapping gets him worked up. “I wanna hear your moans.”

“Then fuck me harder.” You spit catching him off guard. Without a word, he thrusting full speed and having the biggest smirk stretch across your lips.

“Fuck you harder?” He’s ruthless, throwing your legs off him and bottoming into your sweet cunt. He closes the space with his face inches from yours. “You’re pushing me tonight, Babe.” He grips your neck. “Those dangerous words.” His thrusts are maxed out. “Fuck it. I’m gonna fuck a baby into you tonight.”

Before you can decline, he pins you down, hot spurts off cum filling your cunt with his satisfaction. Moans of satisfaction from his raspy voice match the jolts of his hips before he collapses on top of you, still inside your fucked out pussy.

His lips slide onto yours as the sweat glistens off his skin. Those crimson eyes are soft marching the kisses he liters you with.

“I’ll last longer next time.” His cheeks cast a soft red hue. “I... I just missed you so much and... you feel so good. That banging body... I’m glad you’re mine.” He struggles to admit his feelings, something you’re used to. The giggle leaving your lips is enough to catch him off guard. “Shut up loser. I really did miss you.”

He attempts to pull away, however you tug at his arm stopping him in motion.

“Just stay. We have no where to be.” Your soft smile makes him blush looking off.

He settles on your chest and letting him be soft in your arms. Fingers combing his hair, you realize how much he needs to be taken care of too. The soft snores from his lips and you watch his chest rise and fall sends a smile across your lips.

Maybe keeping him around won’t be so bad.

#my hero academia #bakugo imagine #bnha bakugou #bnha imagines #katsuki bakugou #mha imagines #Bakugou smut #kacchan

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moldisgoodforyou · 3 years

Note

okay one, not one hundred, just like one little jj charlie chapter i’ll pay you in flowers

here’s my down payment: 🌺🌺🌷🌷🌸🌸

okay anon bc you gave me the down payment ❤️❤️ here is a draft that def needs to be touched up and is also unfinished rip but i will give it to you anyways

_____

On the day Caroline June Maybank came into the world, everything that could go wrong that day, did.

"Charlie? What's up?" JJ answered, cradling the phone between his shoulder and his ear as he juggled coffee to bring back to his office.

One of her coworkers was on the other end of the line. "JJ? It's Kaitlyn, we've met a few times before - anyway, you need to meet us at the hospital. She's pretty sure she's having the baby."

He let the phone clatter to the sidewalk, quickly setting the coffees aside on a nearby bench. "Fucking hell -" He cursed, grabbing it quickly. "Like, actually sure? Can I talk to her?"

Her coworker handed the phone to Charlie. "JJ."

"Yeah, sweetheart? You doing alright?"

"If you don't get your ass to the hospital in twenty minutes, I'm not letting you in the delivery room."

He had the audacity to laugh for a moment, still a little in shock. "Are you sure those aren't those fake contractions again? I don't have the bag packed, we were supposed to do that next week -"

His voice started taking on a panicked edge and Charlie snapped at him, impatient. "Maybank. Call my mom and dad, tell them to bring it, and get to the hospital. I'm having this baby."

He took a shaky breath. "I'll be there."

She hung up on him and he glanced at the phone, still confused, until it finally all hit him and he started sprinting so he could make back to his office and to the hospital before she got there. He didn't even bother telling anyone at work, just ran straight to his car in the parking lot and sped out of there, then called up Charlie's parents right away. He had just picked them up from the airport the day before, anticipating another week before the scheduled c-section - they were supposed to help with everything, packing the bag, taking care of their dog, all the little things that the two would surely forget.

"Hi JJ!" Charlie's mom answered the phone cheerfully.

"Suzie? Mike? Um, can you guys do me a huge favor?" He asked, growing more nervous by the minute.

"What's wrong, honey?" Her mom picked up on his anxiety right away, able to read him better than both his own parents ever could.

"I'm going to meet Charlie at the hospital, right now, and I don't have anything. At all. I forgot about the bag we didn’t pack yet, and I forgot about the change of clothes she wanted, I don't have anything -"

"JJ. Kid, listen." Her dad interrupted, a reassuring voice of reason. “You get to the hospital, we’ll be right behind you with everything. Don’t worry anything but Charlie, okay?”

“Shit, okay. I mean - shit -” JJ fumbled over his words, having tried so hard to not curse as much while Charlie was pregnant, and especially around her parents.

“You’ll be okay. I’m hanging up, because I want you to concentrate on the road. She’s going to be okay. I promise.”

“Okay.” JJ nodded, breathing out to try and calm himself. “Okay. She’ll be okay.”

“Good. Keep telling yourself that, son.” Her dad assured him, then hung up.

He made it to the hospital just in time, right before Charlie arrived in her coworker’s car, and was able to secure a wheelchair for her to help her in. When she pulled up, she got out on her own and rolled her eyes at the wheelchair, hand resting on her stomach. “Glad you could make it.”

JJ couldn’t help but laugh, ushering her into the wheelchair and pressing a kiss to her forehead. “So you’re feeling okay, then?”

“I don’t want any attitude from you today - oh, fucking hell -” She muttered out, grabbing his hand and nearly crushing it when the contraction came over her.

He winced but didn’t say a word, just held her hand through it. Everything moved so quickly after that - getting her into the hospital room, her parents arriving, meeting a new doctor and getting mentally prepared for the birth. When it came time for Charlie to start pushing, JJ stood right by her side, brushing her sweaty hair off her forehead and murmuring words of encouragement all the way.

“I need you to push just a little more, mama.” The nurse instructed and JJ peered down toward Charlie’s legs, seeing a tiny head crowning. His grip on her hand weakened and he nearly stumbled, grabbing onto the bed for stability - the nurse just cast a knowing glance to her dad, who subtly positioned himself close enough to catch JJ if needed.

After another frustrated cry, Charlie glanced up toward JJ, noticing his sudden pale skin and the way he was swaying on his feet. “JJ Maybank.”

“Yes? You’re doing great, sweetheart.”

“If you make me do this alone, I will never let you forget it.” She threatened. “Do not pass out.”

He knelt down so he was fully facing her, gripping her hand a little tighter and pressing a kiss to the back of it. “I’m fine. Don’t worry about me.”

“Always worry.” She mumbled back, shaking her head with a wry smile.

“You’re having our literal child right now, Charlie, I don’t want you to be worried about a thing.” He grinned at her, making her grin back, and only a few moments later their baby was born. After she was cleaned off a little, the nurse carefully rested the baby on Charlie’s chest before giving them some space.

“She’s perfect.” JJ breathed out in awe, carefully offering his finger to the baby - their baby. She wrapped her tiny fingers around JJ’s one finger right away, cooing a little. He teared up, whispering, “Oh my god, Charlie, look.”

It was JJ’s kid through and through, looking almost exactly like him, but with Charlie’s sloped nose and her smile. With the way she entered the world, their baby was sure to be a perfect storm of the two of them.

“She’s kind of weird looking.” Charlie murmured, stroking her hand over their baby’s feathery blonde hair. JJ looked affronted and gently pressed his hands on both sides of her head. “Shh, that’s so mean! She’s not even an hour old and you’re already bullying our baby.”

Charlie grinned up at him, a mix of love and exhaustion evident on her face. “Say that again.”

“Hm?” He bent down, placing a kiss on Charlie’s temple.

“Our baby.” She beamed.

“Yeah.” JJ murmured, still in awe. “Can you believe we made this?”

“She’s so little.”

"Sweet Caroline." He whispered, carefully kissing their baby's head, so gentle as if he was afraid she might break.

Charlie looked up, a small smile on her face. They hadn't completely decided on a name, but that was one in the running on their much-deliberated-over list. "Caroline June?"

"Caroline June Maybank." JJ echoed softly, stroking his thumb over his baby's cheek. "Welcome to the world, little girl."

#mine #jj x charlie

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sugiwa · 3 years

Text

kokuhaku

Summary: the art of confessing...or not confessing

Word Count: 2138

“Deku-san, I appreciate the support. It made the rescue attempt far easier,” spoke a vaguely familiar voice. Deku—the fucking nerd—was a bright red, stuttering as he waved his hands in protest at the other hero. What kind of fucking hero name was Blink? At least his alluded to his quirk and paid homage to All Might. Yours was just a fucking reflex.

Bakugou lifted his eyes catching your profile for a moment. There was something familiar about the slope of your nose, the curve of your lips, but he couldn’t pinpoint what it was.

“L/N-san, it’s fine! No need to thank me, please. It was you that did most of the work. I just got some of the victims out of the way,” said Deku, eyes flashing at Bakugou sharply, as if to say: Get over here, now!

Like he was going to listen to Deku of all people.

Deku’s hands were held between your own as you spoke, “I was so pleased to see you after all this time. Surely, Katsuki—”

He strode forward, abandoning his act of not eavesdropping, “What the fuck? Who the hell told you that you could call me that?”

Surprise flitted across your face, the expression pulling at a memory long forgotten. The vague pieces started to fit together. Deku’s use of your last name. The familiarity of your face and voice. The use of his first name.

At Aldera Junior High School, there were only three people who made it to a hero school.

Deku. Him. And You.

Ms. Class President, L/N Y/N.

Bakugou was all too familiar with the palm of your hand frequently meeting the back of his head. In an attempt to avoid another three years of dealing with him, you’d elected to go to Shiketsu—the rare teleportation quirk you had granting you almost immediate admission.

Bakugou breathed out in disbelief, “They let someone like you become a hero?”

A sour, bitter look arose, “I was literally thinking the same thing, Katsuki.”

“Don’t call me that!” He resisted the urge to flush, it'd been so long since someone dared to use his first name.

You crossed your arms over your chest, the same bemused smile you wore in Junior High on your lips, “It’s your name, isn’t it?”

“It's Dynamite out in the field!" he snapped, glaring over your head at Deku who would be dying later on. "If you actually went to a decent fucking school, you’d know better than to bring our perso—”

Your brows pinched together tightly, “I never thought this would happen.”

“What?” he ground out.

“You’re lecturing me.” You seemed stunned for a moment, and then a grin broke out. “U.A. really must have performed a miracle to fix that stubborn head of yours.”

“Good to know that Shiketsu left you the same frigid bitch you were back then.”

Not granting him a reply, you turned back to Deku, murmuring something softly to him before disappearing right before their eyes. Bakugou stared at the empty space you left behind.

His hand reached out, gripping Deku’s costume tightly, “Why the hell didn’t you tell me it was her we were helping out?”

Deku winced, “You liked her in Juni—”

��WHOEVER FUCKING STARTED THAT RUMOR IS DEAD!”

Three months later, ten joint missions between them, L/N Y/N was not going away.

Kirishima liked you.

Kaminari.

Mina.

Sero.

One by one his friends abandon him for the bubbling idiot that was once his Class President.

“Oh, here let me,” you plucked the lost, crying child up, rocking him against your hips with an ease that made him scowl. Whispering softly to the boy, you looked at him with a slight grin aware of the intense discomfort he was exuding at the sight of tears.

“Don’t make that fucking face,” he said, scowling at you.

“Oh, Dynamite-san said a very naughty word. We’ll have to punish him, won’t we?” you asked the boy. He nodded empathetically, sticking his entire hand into his mouth and drooling over it.

“Kei? Kei! Oh, thank you so much!” L/N handed the child over, reassuring his mother that he wasn’t any trouble and ran to catch up with him.

They walked in silence together. You were radically different from him. The red and gold costume you wore was the kind kids associated with heroes, a bright smiling face that contrasted to the constant scowl Bakugou had. You weren’t a hero people normally associated with Dynamite, but somehow the sight of you two going on patrol together was becoming normal.

“Am I annoying you?” you asked softly.

He hated that voice. It reminded him of the times you comforted Deku in the hallways after he’d destroyed his school bag or left him banged up from an explosion. And the look of disappointment that followed because you never understood how someone who bullied the people they were meant to protect could become a hero.

“I’m not a kid, just don’t get in my way and we’ll be fine,” said Bakugou, not wanting to get trapped in some sort of heart-to-heart.

“It’s usually you that gets in my way,” you pointed out.

His temper spiked as embarrassment flooded, “How the fuck am I supposed to know when you’re gonna pop out of thin fucking air?”

“I told you it’s not thin air.” You rolled your eyes, sighing for the thousandth time that day. “It’s a pocket di—forget it, explaining it twenty million times is tiring.”

A comfortable silence built between them. The crisp March was almost warm enough for the first Sakura blossoms to bloom.

Bakugou risked asking the question on his mind, “Why’d you come back anyway?”

“I’m teaching at U.A. in a couple weeks.” Though he’s just learned the news, somehow, he’s not surprised by it. “Gotta make sure troublemakers like you become decent heroes, you know?”

He looked at you, imaging what a school full of hormonal teenagers would be like when faced with the Pro-Hero, Blink, and frowned. “I would have dropped out with you as my teacher.”

“Please, you had a giant crush on me. You would have come to school even sick and given me a box of chocolates every White Day.”

You’re gone and twenty feet ahead of him before he can even lift his arm to hit you. The chase that ensued made national news, not for the destruction it caused but from the viral videos of Dynamite smiling when he finally managed to catch you.

“Red or black?” It’s the sixth time you asked in the last hour.

Both dresses were sprawled out on your bed, the same save for the satiny finish on the red one. He didn’t really fucking care. “Red.”

“Really?” You looked at the black one instead, tilting your head in consideration.

“Your fucking doing this on purpose.”

A raised brow was all he got in return, “Can you blame me? You came here looking like that and expect me to go out now?”

“It’s the Hero Billboard Awards, unless you forgot, we kinda have to go.”

“No, we don’t.” It’s troubling when you look at him like that, because it made him almost believe that it wasn’t just petty flirting to pass the time. That the fluttering in his gut was real and not a passing feeling he got from the leftover remnants of a childhood crush.

“So then stay here. I don’t know why you wanted to was—”

“I can get us there in a split second, quit acting like the world is going to explode if we’re late.”

He looked up and then regretted it, spotting you in a slip of a robe as you held each dress against your body. It didn’t matter which one you picked, either way he’d have a hard time looking away.

He excused himself from your room as you got changed, walking around your cluttered apartment where boxes of your replies to fan mail were sorted on a table in the living room, ready to be mailed out.

He didn’t know why you bother with writing so many, but he can’t judge you when he had a team dedicated to forging his signatures on replies cause he remembered the feeling of despair he got whenever he didn’t receive a reply from All Might’s Agency.

“Hey…thanks for coming over and helping me.” He was right about not being able to look away, he can barely drag his gaze away from your legs to look you in the eye. “I know you didn’t want to, bu—”

Annoyance bristled. How did you still not get that your presence was anything but annoying? “Don’t make assumptions about what I want and don’t want. I wouldn’t have come if I didn’t want to.”

You nodded. An awkward silence permeated from your end as you gather the courage to say something. Just when his patience was about to snap, you said, “Can I make a confession?”

The nervous look you wore, immediately worried him, “What’d you do this time? Let another villain go?”

“That was one time! And he was just misunderstood!” You scowled at the grin that crossed his face and then the nervous look returned. Shifting on the balls of your feet, you pulled something out of your bag. A letter, but it looked old, the faded pink envelope dotted with cartoon hearts.

“What is this?” He moved to rip it open, but a trembling hand stopped him.

You rubbed at the back of your neck, “Open it later…when you’re alone. I-I found it a couple days ago, but I guess some things never change.”

He looked down, the handwriting on the front of the envelope familiar because he’d seen it on all the reports you signed off on. He knew what it was. He wasn’t stupid, but for some reason his heart jolted anyway.

You must have had this since Junior High.

Time for his own confession: Bakugou asked one of his—friends was the wrong word—minions to start that rumor that he had a crush on you. He really hadn’t had one at first, but he wanted to piss off Miss Goody-Two-Shoes Class President.

The only problem was that you didn’t care and the more you didn’t, the more he started to notice things like the way you always tilted your desk slightly to the left so that the shorter girl behind you could see the board easily. The way you caught onto things quickly and never asked for an explanation more than once.

The way you placed yourself between him and Deku on the worst days because you could handle taking a hit but couldn’t stand to see anyone else hurt. The deal you struck with him that you wouldn’t apply to U.A. because you knew how desperately he wanted to be the first one to go there.

It’s little things like that which claw their way into him over the months you’ve reunited.

The things that always made you a hero.

The injury you took a month back in his place because his quirk was better suited to stopping the villain than yours was.

A quiet, steady strength that didn’t stick out in a crowd but managed to calm a room of panicking civilians better than any explosion he made could.

You ranked in the Top Ten, but declined any publicity that came with it because you had students who needed you to be you and not a face they saw on T.V. screens.

Bakugou knew, from the moment he recognized you, that it would always circle back to that same intense feeling of being constantly aware of where you were, who you were.

“Fuck it,” he said, tossing the pink envelope somewhere on the couch and striding forward.

His hands gripped the sides of your face and tilted your mouth to his in a bruising kiss. You parted your lips, a flower opening, sweet and soft. Bakugou understood, with an intensity that stole the breath from him that some part of him had always longed to do this.

The heat between them turned from a single ember to a raging flame. All thoughts of the ceremony they were meant to attend were replaced by the feeling of your skin against his. The softness of your mouth, the warm hand crawling toward his ribs.

You pull away first, eyes wide with surprise. It took all of Bakugou’s will not to simply kiss you again.

Crimson gaze alight with a hidden fire, “You wanna ditch whatever the hell we’re supposed to attend?”

You nodded.

Bakugou’s hand cupped the back of your neck, pulled you close once more. His lips pressed against your neck, jaw, the corner of your mouth, “Good. I don’t have a fucking letter, so pretend I gave you one.”

#bakugou x reader #bakugou katuski x reader #Bakugou x yn #bakugou x y/n #bakugou katsuki #Bakugou imagine #bnha imagines #bnha x reader

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