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v6quewrlds · 3 days ago

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can u write a fluffy clingy joe one shot?? maybe building legos or something!! i love ur work!! i hope u have a nice day!!🫶🏾

‎ ‎ ⁎⠀┉⠀author's note: here's a fluffy little palette cleanser <3

‎ ‎ ⁎⠀┉⠀word count: 0.9k.

The scent of cinnamon wafted through the air as you stirred the pot of homemade hot chocolate on the stove. You glanced at the clock; it was already past six in the evening, and the darkness outside pressed against the windows like a heavy blanket.

"Joe," you began as you poured the steaming liquid into two oversized mugs, "I understand you're upset, but maybe you should take this week to recharge. Watch some movies, play some video games, do something that doesn't involve football."

Joe sighed, taking the mug from you with a nod of gratitude. "You're probably right," he admitted. "But it's hard to sit still when all I can think about is what we could be doing to fix things."

You kissed his forehead gently. "You can't control everything, Joey. Sometimes you just have to trust that things will pan out the way they're meant to." You leaned in for a quick peck, then stepped back to pick up your warm mug.

Joe sighed again, his eyes lingering on the TV that was muted in the living room, displaying highlights of the Cavs-Pelicans game. "Fine," he said finally.

You raised an eyebrow. "Fine?"

"Fine," Joe repeated, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips. "Can we build that Lego set we got last Christmas?"

Your eyes lit up. "Seriously?" You had been dying to tackle the intricate, sprawling Star Wars that had remained in its box since Joe's brother, Dan, gifted it for Christmas. "You know I've been waiting for this moment."

Joe nodded with a hint of excitement in his voice. "Yeah, I figured it's time we put it together." He followed you to the living room, where you cleared the coffee table with a dramatic flourish.

You sat down across from each other, the instructions sprawled out between you. You picked up the instructions, your eyes scanning the pages. "Okay, we're building the Death Star," you said with a smile. "Where do we start?"

Joe leaned over, his sarcasm in full swing. "I'm surprised you remember what it is. You're the one who said it looked like a giant space donut when we opened the box."

You playfully rolled your eyes. "Hey, I know my Star Wars!" you protested. "The 4,000-piece count kind of took me by surprise, though."

Joe chuckled, sifting through the pieces. "Alright, space donut expert, let's get to it."

Your eyes were glued to the instructions, the pieces scattered around the two of you like a colorful minefield. A soft laugh filled the room as you held up a tiny Lego stormtrooper, your thumb and forefinger framing it like a photograph. "Look at this little guy," you said, grinning. "He's so cute."

"Cute? He's a symbol of imperial tyranny, babe," Joe retorted with a chuckle, earning a playful shove from you. Despite his initial hesitation, Joe was fully invested in the project. His mind was clear of the team dynamics that had consumed him all week. The Legos demanded his focus, and he gave it willingly.

You took a sip of your now lukewarm cocoa and leaned in closer to examine Joe's progress. "Looks pretty impressive," you said.

Joe glanced up, his cheeks reddening slightly. "It's just Legos," he said, but you could hear the pride in his voice.

"No, it's not just Legos," you replied, setting your mug down. "I love it when you get all focused like this for something other than football. It's cute."

Joe rolled his eyes, but the corners of his mouth turned up in a smile. "Cute, huh?"

You nodded. "Yeah, like a big ol' teddy bear."

"Teddy bear?" Joe scoffed, but the playful teasing had lightened his mood. "I'll have you know I'm a very intimidating Lego architect."

You couldn't help but laugh at his defensive tone. "Oh, absolutely," you said, your voice dripping with sarcasm. "I'm quaking in my boots."

Joe smirked and tossed a Lego at you. It bounced off your arm and you feigned injury. "Careful there, Burrow," you said, your voice full of mock pain. "You wouldn't want to hurt the one who's keeping you fed and hydrated."

"Well, you're not helping much with the whole 'keeping me hydrated' part," Joe quipped, nodding towards his nearly empty mug. "I'll need more of that hot cocoa if I'm going to get through this."

You stood up with a smile. "Your wish is my command," you said, practically skipping back to the kitchen. As you brought the pot to a boil again, you watched Joe through the archway. The stress of the season had etched lines into his face, but as he worked on the Death Star, you could see them slowly smoothing out.

When you returned with the freshly filled mug, Joe took a grateful sip and leaned back, eyeing the progress. "You know," he said thoughtfully, "I've been so caught up in work that I forgot how much I enjoy just... doing nothing."

You sat back down on the floor, your mug now steaming in your hands. "It's important to have hobbies," you agreed, your voice gentle. "Things that make you happy outside of football."

Joe nodded, his eyes lingering on you for a moment before returning to the Legos. "You're right," he murmured, his voice a mix of acceptance and regret. "I just... I want to win so badly."

You leaned over to kiss him on the cheek. "I know you do," you said softly. "And you will. But you'll have to wait a week to do it. For now, just enjoy the quiet."

#&. cassie writes.#joe burrow #cincinnati bengals #joe burrow x reader #bengals #cincinnati football #joe burrow bengals #joe burrow fanfic #joe burrow imagine #joe burrow fluff #black!fem!reader #x black fem reader #black!oc #x black reader #black!reader #black reader

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freakyformula · 2 days ago

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Car sex headcanon with Charles Leclerc

Warnings: Made in like 15 minutes lol, car sex, unprotected sex, creampie, praise kink

It was supposed to just be a car ride home from Nice. You'd just landed, and both of you were exhausted from the flight and the triple-header weekends. You looked forward to sleeping in your own bed and getting to wind down with Charles.

He looks over at you, as you sit in the passenger seat, arms crossed and dozing off.

Something about the fact that you looked so innocent and harmless sparked something in him and he felt himself growing hard in his pants.

He carefully places his hand on your thigh, giving it a light squeeze. He is desperate to feel you but doesn't want to wake you up.

Your head bobs up as he pulls over, confused as to why you had come to a stop.

"What's wrong, Charles?" You ask.

He sighs, and looks away, focusing on the traffic outside.

You notice the bulge in his pants and sigh, not from annoyance but rather to collect your thoughts.

You're about to say something but he beats you to it.

"I... I'm not sure if I can wait until we get home, Y/N." He says, looking at you with a frown.

"Hey..." You start, "Talk to me, Charles."

The grip on your thigh tightens as the fire in his eyes intensifies.

"Get in the back, mon amour." He orders.

And you oblige. You get in the backseat in record time, meeting him halfway across the seat. Your mouths crash into each other and his hands start wandering.

First, they find your neck, pulling you impossibly closer to his face.

His hands slide down to your chest, sliding his hands under your oversized hoodie, finding out you're naked under it. When his hands land on your tits, Charles lets out a satisfied sigh. "Naughty girl..." He whispers between kisses.

You feel his hands slide down your back, coming to a stop on your ass. He spanks you lightly, causing you to gasp out of surprise rather than pain from the sting of his hand on your exposed skin.

Your reaction makes him chuckle, "Sorry." He says innocently, even though you know he wasn't sorry about his actions.

He helps you slide your sweatpants off, and his hands instantly land on your ass again, toying with the lining of your underwear.

Charles keeps his eyes glued on your face to catch any sign of you feeling uncomfortable but instead, he's pleasantly surprised by you helping him slide your panties down.

"Touch me, Charles, please..." You beg while pulling on his hand desperately.

He huffs, "So desperate for me, chérie." But he does as you say, after all, you asked very nicely.

His lips land on yours, and his hands slide down from your shoulders to the small of your back, guiding you onto your hands and knees.

"Fuck, mon amour. So beautiful like this." He coos as his fingers slide the insides of your thighs, teasing you out of your mind.

When you hear the clinking of his belt you let out a small whimper, knowing what is about to come your way.

You grab the car door handle, steadying yourself.

"You ready for me, mon amour?" He asks, and you nod frantically as an answer.

"Good." He praises and gives himself a few pumps before lining himself up with you.

His fingers slide along your slit, collecting your arousal on his digits. The wetness of you earns you a groan from him.

When his tip touches your opening, you instinctively push back on him, making him pull back. "No." He says, with a prolonged "o".

He teases your opening, barely sliding in, and pulling out again.

You groan in annoyance, "Fuck Charles!" You yell, on the brink of feeling pissed.

He chuckles and finally finds his way home.

You both moan out brokenly as he burrows into you, centimetre by centimetre.

"Feel so good..." You whimper and clench around him, making him hammer into you harder.

His grunts become more frequent and desperate and you feel yourself getting closer to your release as he plays with your clit, and slides from where you are connected and back to your sensitive button.

His fingers did their magic and you soon came closer, almost tumbling over the edge.

"Cum for me." Charles demands, and you do, hard, like the good girl you are.

Charles keeps his eyes on your contorted face as you convulse beneath him, while he moves in you.

You feel your arms and legs giving up. When you are about to give in, Charles grabs you, pulling you up again.

His arms bring you up against his chest, allowing him access even deeper into you.

As you are sitting on his cock, he continues ravaging your pussy, slamming into your cervix.

His lips brush against your earlobe, nibbling on it, while praising you on how well you take him, and how well you are doing for him.

"I'm close, Y/N. I'm so proud of you..." He announces while slowing down his movements.

And a couple of thrusts later, he slams into you, painting your deepest crevices with his white cream.

"Oh my god..." You whisper, loud enough for him to hear clearly. His grunts in your ear egg you on even further, and you push down on him instinctively.

He pumps into you a few more times before stilling, waiting out the aftershocks.

"You did so well, my love." He coos.

When he pulls out, you are left clenching around nothing, and Charles seems to notice. He carefully inserts two fingers into you and plays with the cum threatening to escape onto the black seats.

"We can't let that happen, can we?" He says as you feel his hardening cock slapping against you, ready to plug you up with his cock. "Ready to be filled up again?" He winks.

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nanamis-bigtie · 3 days ago

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impromptu rendezvous

↬ hanamaki takahiro x fem!reader ↬ masterlist // ao3 version

cw: smut, friends to lovers, reader has breasts, vagina & is rather feminine, drunk sex, piv sex, creampie, sex on couch, long-term platonic relationship goes romantic really quick summary: through the years of close friendship you have never felt anything romantic towards hanamaki…but have you really? you feign being drunk to escape an overwhelming party and when he takes care of you, you can't bring yourself to refuse his help. instead, you keep the game rolling until you find yourselves alone in your apartment word count: 4.8k a/n: commission for lovely @antique-remains ❤ thank you so much for your support and trust, i loved working with you and your ideas!

"My, my, aren't you a good wife?"

Matsun's sarcastic comment has Hanamaki's eyebrows twitch with irritation, but he doesn't stop nor retort. He's had his good dose of alcohol too, shoelaces of your boots tangling between his fingers as he's kneeling on one knee between your legs, leaning slightly to the right. It puts strain into your own knee but you don't mind; you like the weight of his body and its warmth, especially now, your mind foggy and overwhelmed. It's familiar and personal, great comfort amidst the chaos and noise, and the crowd filling the apartment a little much for your limits.

You didn't hate the party—no, you were always looking forward to Matsun's—but it strained you far past what you expected. You didn't make it easy for yourself either, pouring too much into yourself and too fast. And tomorrow's morning classes be damned, you were ready for even more, but Hanamaki was right there, with his overshielding that was sometimes getting on your nerves, but so needed right then. Gently but firmly, he moved your glass away and excused you both from the company. Soon, you've been herded towards the hallway, packed into your jacket, having your purse shoved under your arm, and sat down for him to deal with your boots.

You're not that drunk to not be able to take care of yourself but once he's dropped to his knees, you've felt it's best to keep your mouth shut and just let him. Wouldn't be the first time either and you know better than to argue against his care—but you can't pretend you don't like him like this now, with his flushed cheeks between your legs, eyebrows knit in focus and their little twitch at Matsun's teasing behind his back. The urge to thread fingers through his hair is real and persistent; you know how soft it is, and you know the smell of his shampoo would linger on your fingers for quite some time but, again, you're not that drunk. Such a move would be shameless even for your long and close friendship, and feigning daze right under Matsukawa's nose could as well be a straight confession of feelings.

Nothing could escape those knowing eyes, even what you haven't dared to admit to yourself. No, it's better to play stupid and limp, and to nibble on your bottom lip, watching Makki on his knees for you, letting him dart you up and wrap arm around your waist once he's dressed himself, ready to lead you outside and to your apartment.

"You're gonna be okay?" Matsukawa is dead serious now, holding the door for you two and lingering there even as you make it past the garden and pavement to your Uber ride.

"We've been worse," Hanamaki scoffs, no offense taken though. "Get back there and don't drown yourself in beer."

"Sure. Don't break your legs or something."

Your place is only a couple of blocks away but in your current state it would take forever to get there on foot. You would still try though, too dazed to think of a ride, but what do you have Hanamaki for, if not for being your brain in times like these? It would be enough to pack you into the car and trust the driver with the delivery, but he took a seat next to you and let you lean against him.

Matsun's not there anymore to judge and tease you so you grow bolder, as bold as you can in presence of a bystander right under your nose. The crook of Hanamaki's neck is tailored for the shape of your head; you nuzzle up there and close your eyes, to ease the dizziness caused by car's vibrations, yes, but first and foremost to soak yourself in his scent. It's duller under the lingering smell of the party, of the crowd, smoke and that sharp, teasing aftertaste of beer and vodka, but you can still catch a glimpse of him. His cologne is subtle but persistent, like him, but there's the shampoo and shower gel combo you will always recognize after countless times of finding it in your own bathroom after he's spent a night on your couch.

And under that, deeper, there's him, the natural scent of his body, embarrassingly familiar for the distance you, despite everything, still keep.

It's the scent you've known for the longest and, in prospect of over ten years of your friendship, it's so funny how offensive you found it at first. Always in a hurry, from volleyball club to precious hours reserved for friends, barely squeezed into his tight schedule, he skipped a shower here and there, and as he never smelled bad to you, for some reason it irritated you how much he stood out for your nose and how it distracted you.

You've drilled a habit of keeping his hygiene always on point. But now, in the confines of the small car, with the rough edge of his jacket nuzzled up to your cheek, you wish you could smell more of him, if only a little.

Friends, even the best kind, don't cram their noises into their necks during their shared Uber ride, the sobering part of your brain is trying to point your attention to that, but you ignore it. And Hanamaki doesn't mind it, even wraps his arm around you shortly before you reach your destination, way too late for your liking. But the hold soon returns, first helping you out of the car, then keeping you straight up the stairs and into the elevator, finally leading you to your door.

"Even a blind person could rob you," he mutters, fishing the keys out of your pocket with ease. The lock clicks open with half of a turn, and he sighs, concerned and amused alike.

"Shut up," you mumble, hanging on his shoulder more than needed. "No one has robbed me before."

"Fortune favors fools, eh?"

"You're calling me stupid?" You withstand when he's trying to push you past the threshold—well, as much as your wobbly legs can, heels not helping your case. You're having a taste of upper hand only because Hanamaki lets you, you know it from the playful flickers in his eyes; he's squinting and tilting head to side as you're pulling him two steps back into the corridor—just for him to set you into your prior position with a single pull.

"I'm calling you drunk and too light-hearted." He's finally done and tugs at your arm until you lose balance—and fall straight into his arms, then over his shoulder as he's tripped you, and picks you up with ease.

"I'm gonna scream!" You kick and wiggle, but he knows your tricks too well to let you slip out.

"Sure, scream, princess." Covering you with one arm, he shuts the door behind your backs. "Show me what those little lungs can do."

You're carried into the living room, then thrown onto the couch, seemingly with no care for your state, but you know Makki could be far less gentle, if he really wanted to pay you back for your little games. Your mind is fuzzy more from hanging over his shoulder than the landing itself—but still not fuzzy enough to stop you in your tracks. You shamelessly stretch legs, one foot playfully slotted in his hand; he rolls his eyes but undoes the boot, then the other, then helps you out of your jacket and carries everything to the hallway.

He's mapped your apartment better than your current, overly absent roommate has, and you're ready to bet he's actually spent more time here than her through all those years of crashing on your couch. In no time he has a bottle of water and painkillers for you, a heated blanket is pulled out of the cabinet and thrown over your legs, he even helps you with your skincare duty, bringing you make-up removal wipes.

"You could have carried me straight to bed." You didn't want to sound whiny or disappointed, but it does come across as so; you curl your shoulders, unsure of his next move and for the first time since what seems forever unable to read his expression. Hell, you're unsure of your intentions and reason behind the weird longing, your mind free of thoughts, just waiting for his reaction and feeling weirdly shy, as if you were stripped naked and left for his judgment.

Hanamaki indeed seems to judge you, his head tilted to the side just a little, eyes narrowed much like a cat's a moment before the final pounce. He often does so, an old habit of analyzing the court before a move rubbing off on every aspect of his life, but you haven't paid any particular attention to it until now, when his focus is piercing you inside out.

He can strip you of your confidence like no one, years of your friendship a blessing and a curse alike.

"That's a forbidden territory," he finally settles on ignoring the topic, not dwelling on but not quite letting it die right here and now either. "I ain't that much of a pervert to walk into some girl's bedroom just like that. Especially with a girl ripped to the tits."

"I'm not some girl to you, ain't I?" You huff and pout. "Haven't you said I'm almost like a sister?"

For a moment there's a weird look in his eyes, maybe pain, maybe disappointment, but it's quickly replaced by his good old teasing demeanor, "I wouldn't walk into my sis' bedroom either. Sorry, you either sleep here or crawl there on your own. Good luck."

Hanamaki makes a beeline for the door, ready to slink off but when you call out to him by his name, he immediately freezes and looks over his shoulder, as if you pulled on an invisible leash around his neck.

"You're not staying?" You shimmy into one corner of the couch, leaving the other half for him. "We can order Chinese. And— And maybe watch something. On Netflix or—"

"You are aware how it sounds, right?" He says but he's already throwing his sneakers and jacket off, closing the distance between you in a few wide steps. Couch dips under his weight as he's thrown himself straight at it with a loud groan, your side bobbing under you as a result.

You barely hold a yelp in your throat. Why are you so tense suddenly? You've already been way closer than on two sides of the same couch, the distance between you now wouldn't be anything weird even for people who barely know each other.

When you think about it now, your sobering mind slowly connecting the right puzzles, there is some emotional distance between you two lately. You can't pinpoint when exactly it's started; you've been slowly tiptoeing away from each other, building an invisible, thin veil in between. There's still comfort and familiarity you don't share even with your female friends but it's not the same as it used to be.

For a try, you dare to straighten your legs and rest them on his lap. Makki doesn't budge but palpably lingers with the next move; finally, he cups your feet between his big hands and massages them. You don't really need a relief for them but it's a little ritual you two have developed since you've started wearing high heels.

"Chinese then?" You draw a circle with one foot, playfully avoiding his touch.

"I won't fit a single thing more," he makes a tortured face just at the thought. "I've drunk too much."

"You don't look wasted."

Hanamaki snorts and throws head back, his face out of the range of your vision. You watch his Adam's apple bob when he swallows his laughter, your mouth dry in a way you've never felt for him. Or maybe you have but it's been easier to brush it off without alcohol clearing your mind with a sadistic precision. You're stripped bare by your own chain of bad decisions, nowhere to hide and no way to pretend anymore.

"Neither do you." He tickles the sole of immobilized foot and holds you through the spasm, merciless despite the tenderness of his hold. "You're not that drunk as you try to act, hmm?"

His fingers trail along the side of your foot and ankle, then up your shin, towards the sensitive area around your knee, a thin layer of your stocking in no way able to protect you from incoming tortures. He keeps you on the edge, fingertips hovering over the point you know it will have you scream, cry, and beg—or worse, if he tickles you for too long.

Warmth creeping straight into your core has nothing to do with this anticipation though; it's intense but not rapid, and you take it for alcohol running in your veins at first, at least until immense need for being touched overpowers everything. The urge to squeeze your thighs and trap his hand in between is strong, anxiety squeezing your lungs even stronger, the mess of thoughts and emotions in your head devastating.

It feels...wrong, to react to his touch like this. You're holding the blame for alcohol messing with you, despite being called out on it and despite your body sobering up with each draft of air. No, it surely has to be the drunkard speaking through you, otherwise you would have to admit—

(To admit it feels wrong, but you need it, you need it so bad you might cry, if you won't get it from him.)

Hanamaki grazes the ticklish spot, impatient for your answer, and this time you can't hold a yelp any longer. It's dangerously close to a moan, your heart skips a beat when your eyes meet but he only cocks an eyebrow, waiting, either missing your reaction or ignoring it.

"I had enough," you admit in a whisper, afraid the trembling of your voice will betray you. "Needed to get out but explaining it all to Matsun—"

He chuckles, amused and understanding. Matsukawa could be a pain in the ass with his overzealous nosiness and you surely were drunk enough to find it troublesome.

"You could have at least told me." He tickles you again, forcing you to laugh and jerk up. His hand slides towards the inner side of your leg and doesn't budge from there.

You don't move, either, a little ashamed how easily you caved and accepted the crumbs off the plate. Warmth in you is pulsing, not a wave anymore but the first flicker of fire that's bound to explode if you won't extinguish it right here and now.

"Didn't want to sit here all alone." You throw head back, saving yourself at least the torture of his gaze looking for yours. You wish you didn't throw the blanket on the floor as soon as he threw it at you, you could hide under it and soak back into your excuses and lies.

"You could have told me that too." Hanamaki is unwavering, his thumb rubbing circles into your stocking. "Instead of playing... Whatever it is. Dragging me here like some drunk rando you keep tabs on, letting him seduce you."

You can't read whether he's teasing you or being dead serious—and it's terrifying. The last thing you want is to hurt him, to have him reject you and close the door not only to whatever is happening between you two now but also to your cherished friendship. You love him, as who doesn't really matter. You need him more than just the physical craving, peaking after months, if not years of repressed yearning.

You would never forgive yourself, if you lost it all because of drunk carelessness.

"What if I said I wouldn't mind being seduced by you?" You finally break, all cards on the table. Keeping you both on the edge is the worst outcome, you would rather take the ultimate rejection than toying further with his trust and creating distance you two would never close again.

He sucks in breath through clenched teeth, a few seconds of silence unbearable for your poor, fluttering heart. Weight of his fingers against your thigh grows, he nearly sinks them into your flesh before he speaks, his voice so tense it's almost breaking, "Please tell me it was you who said it, not booze messing with me."

"I wouldn't mind being seduced by you." You repeat and adjust your position, looking straight at him now against the urge to hide your face in your hands. Embarrassment is not a word you two share in your dictionary, but the vulnerability of the moment drives you insane, each passing second feeling like burning hot liquid metal poured straight into your heart.

You watch him wipe his face with a free hand, watch his chest bob with a deep, desperate breath. Eyes closed shut, Hanamaki collects racing thoughts; you see his eyebrows twitching in intense focus, a small bead of sweat dripping down his temple. It lasts a few heartbeats, it feels like hours, surely for the both of you, years of experience in reading each other no relief on this completely different ground.

"You have no idea how many times I've dreamed about it." When he finally speaks, his voice is hoarse and guttural, speaking straight from his core and stripped bare. "Since the last year— Fuck, I don't know for how long, maybe from the beginning... I feel like I always wanted you—"

He hides face in both hands now and groans, frustrated with his own helplessness and tongue tied with the remains of a drunk haze. Both of you have lost the majority of it at this point, though, at least at the mental level.

"I suck at confessions." He finally admits the obvious and you both collapse into giggles in relief. "I'm much better with my hands."

They're both at you again, exploring your legs with more punch to it. Makki follows the seam of your stockings, up and under the hem of your dress until he reaches the lacey welt and toys with them. He takes his time stripping you of them, teasing and testing, relishing in the feel of your bare skin slowly revealing itself for him.

His fingers are warm, but you still shudder when he cradles your ankles and glides up your calves. You spread your legs for him, but he doesn't reach further, for now satisfied with little twitches and goosebumps covering your skin. He's making you pay for your little lie, you realize with an impatient mewl, and he wouldn't mind having you pull the rope towards yourself, but you let him have his way. You feel guilty, after all, for the quirk of tonight and the silence of numerous months. He can have this moment of triumph.

He's bored with it faster than you thought.

"C'mon, baby girl," he tosses your legs away and pats his lap, a faint teasing smirk on his lips.

You don't need to be told twice.

You roll your dress further up and straddle him. Not until now you realized how tense and hot and heavy you've been, your starved and sensitive pussy twitching just at the brush of his jeans. Thin layer of your panties could as well just not exist, you grind on him for relief—irregular, sharp moves of hips, soon cut by both of his arms wrapped tight around you.

Makki kept himself in shape, you note with satisfaction feeling his muscles tense against your waist. You know of his gym routine, of course, but it's a whole different world when you can touch and appreciate him in his whole glory. You sink your hands under his t-shirt, trace his abs and chest to your liking as you lean for a kiss, at first shy, then sliding your tongue in with ease.

You've imagined it before, but the reality is nowhere close to your fantasies. He's good, he's so incredibly good despite the aftertaste of everything you've poured into your throats before and the clumsiness of the first shared kiss. You're ready to drown in it, forgetting about the whole world, even about the dull pulsing between your legs—if not for his hands relentlessly at work, one kneading your ass, the other unzipping your dress and sliding it down your shoulders.

"Can I?" Hanamaki whispers against your lips, his eyes half closed and glossy. He traces the clasp of your bra and undoes it immediately as you nod.

Dress is rolled down your waist, bra—thrown behind the couch. Makki leans back to see you better, mouth slightly agape at the sight. He squeezes your breasts with both hands, feeling their shape against his palms, swallows hard.

"You're so hot..." He mutters, close to choking on his own words.

You press into his touch, chase the closeness as you grind against him with the right rhythm and pressure now. He welcomes you with a needy groan, his face shoved into your neck, sucking and nibbling, and even daring to bite.

"I'm sorry," he kisses a beeline towards your chest, hot breath grazing your perky nipple.

"You're not sorry," you pull him closer, fingers threading through his hair.

"Yeah, I'm not."

Makki's tongue is divine against your skin. He sucks on your tits with fervor, at first tries to tease, but quickly forgets himself, encouraged by your breathy moans and nails scratching his scalp. He's soon answering the rhythm of your hips too, the front of his jeans bulging, surely tight for his hardening cock. It takes you a few tries in the confines of his hold, but you finally open his belt and zipper and help him out of his briefs.

He groans in relief but doesn't stop sucking, just bucks into your hand when you give him the first, testing stroke. You follow the wordless request, build up a decent rhythm for him even if he doesn't make it easy for you with the work of his lips and fingers. Holding you firm with one arm, he reaches between your legs and returns the favor, fingers toying with your slit.

"So wet for me already?" He tries to tease, his voice on the verge of a needy moan under the relentless ministrations of your hand. His eyes roll into the back of his head as you swipe your thumb against his sensitive tip. "Fuck, that's right... Right here, baby."

You love the way it rolls off his tongue, this casual, endearing pet name he's sometimes used before just to fuck around with you. It's sweet and desperate, drenched with need as he's rutting into your palm, for a split moment forgetting about you and mumbling it again into your breasts once catching himself on being sloppy.

You're honestly no better, losing your mind whenever his fingers toy with your entrance. You want him inside, so badly it tears you apart, but you know you're going to forget yourself as soon as you get what you want. His cock pulsing in your hand doesn't make it easy for you, it's like a torture at this point, torture you want to—have to—endure for him. One finger in, two, three—you clench your teeth and squeeze him tighter in your hand, on the verge of begging him to ruin you, fighting against it, soaking in immense pleasure of having your slick walls caressed exactly how you need it.

"Not gonna— Fuck, last long if you—" Hanamaki peels himself off your chest, puts everything he still has in him into pushing his high away. "Lemme— Lemme take care of you first."

He guides you to lean against him, hands against his chest, hips angled to reach your sweet spot better. Focused on self-control, you missed how he's been relentlessly looking for it, testing, observing, attentive despite his own need trying to take over.

"T-there..." You help him as much as your trembling thighs let you, arching your ass into his hand. "Don't stop now."

"I won't."

Toes curling and pleasure turning your body into spasm, you almost lose the perfect balance at the crucial moment. But Makki is there for you, holding you close and right, helping you ride your high until the last delicious second. You slump against him, blessed, exhausted but nowhere close to being full; you mewl with protest when he pulls out of you.

Makki cocks an eyebrow, surprised and hopeful at the same time, "Do you still wanna—"

You glance down at this dick, beads of precum glistening at its tip, and put the last ounce of power left in you into lifting your hips once again. He mutters something about lack of protection, neither of you listen, sanity all gone with a single swipe between your folds.

"Gonna be slow—" You can see in his eyes how much it costs him, to be mindful of your weakened, overstimulated state instead of throwing you on your back and fucking you stupid. You would take it, you would take everything, but his restraint tastes the best now.

He keeps his word, filling up inch by inch, holding you to ease strain for your trembling knees. Before your head falls into the crook of his neck, you catch a glimpse of his expression, blissed out from the simple pleasure of your wet pussy squeezing him tight. He whispers your name like a prayer, cradling you close and fully impaled on him, savoring the moment before you force your bodies to move again.

You start first but you can bounce on it only a few times before he has to take over, holding your hips for you. He stays true to his promise; even when his arms start giving up and his upward thrusts grow sloppy, he stays gentle and sweet—as much as a man drunk of you can when chasing his high.

There's no rhythm to it, more than anything you just sway together, but just being full of him is enough. Thighs flush to him, you soak into him, chest to chest, your face in the crook of his neck, his breath heavy and moist in your ear. He throbs deep in you, close to release since the moment he's sunk into you, but stubborn to endure a little more, for another thrust, for another frantic budging of your hips, for another twitch of your pussy around him. He struggles to praise you for it too, his voice dying on him whenever he tries though, leaving him with just a string of groans and pieces of your name in between, over and over again.

He's trying to say it one more time when it finally hits him. His arms tremble and he sinks you onto his cock one more time, spilling his seed deep inside. You hold him through it, nails digging into his shoulders through the t-shirt, almost crying in your own overstimulation.

Hanamaki wraps himself around you as well, soaking into your dry sobs, one hand soothingly petting the small of your back.

"You did so well, baby," he rasps into your ear, kissing the trail of sweat next to it.

You did so well—like back in high school when you broke your dominant arm and struggled to take notes with the other. When you got drunk for the first time and he held your hair as you were leaning over the toilet. When you broke and cried after a hard exam in your first year. When you finally got rid of your horrible ex.

He's praised you so many times before. But none sounded as sweet as the one now, in his embrace, breathing in air full of his scent, sharing the warmth of your sweaty bodies.

Still connected, you lean together to the side and collapse into the couch. It's uncomfortable, especially for Makki and his long limbs, but you both have reached your limit, and even a risk of being eventually caught by your roommate doesn't prompt you to move.

"You were right, should have carried you to the bedroom," Hanamaki sighs heavily against your neck and cradles you closer, as away from the edge as you both can fit.

"I'm always right," you chirp with confidence and prompt yourself for a pinch or nudge you would get in return, but he just laughs and guides your head to rest in his palm.

"Let's leave regrets and consequences for tomorrow." He says after a moment of silence, long enough for you to think he's dozed off. His lips are pressed close to your skin, his voice barely audible. "I don't wanna think of anything else other than you finally in my arms."

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kierandayern · 2 days ago

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hi, nice bumping into ya! so I was wondering what's Noan relationship chart looks like?

Aaa haven't really made a proper relationship chart for Noan yet so imma just type it out here for now kekekek

Crowe <<< best friend Noan

Crowe in love/best friend>>> Noan

-One of the first few friends Noan made in freshmen year

-Noan had a happy crush on him the first few weeks but eventually died down and only views him in a platonic way now, on the other hand Crowe...

-Noan is grateful to have Crowe but his side as he had helped him on many occasions and Noan feels rather indebted to him even though Crowe often reassured him that he didn't want anything in return...

Sol <<<old schoolmates/chill Noan

-Crowe just wished Noan wasn't so harsh on himself, he WANTS to take care of him even if Noan didn't want his help, often insisting he can do everything himself

-Noan absolutely hated physical touch but Crowe holding his hand during episodes really brings a huge sense of comfort

Sol w̵͓̯̍̑h̶̝͜͠a̵̳̼͂ẗ̴̹ ̶̘̣̇͘ṱ̵̏h̴̬̓ę̷̃ ̴̭͎̒͋f̴̞̈́ù̸̥̬̾c̸̜̰̏k̴̰̗̎>>> Noan

-anyways... (lmao)

-Used to go to the same highschool and Sol knew Noan before he was even known as 'Noan'

-When Sol saw Noan in freshmen year he thought he looked very familiar and kept watching him, eventually turning into obsession

-Noan also doesn't recognize Sol much because he had looked different in highschool

-he thinks Sol is a pretty cool guy

-admittedly Noan developed a small crush over Sol on their first encounter but as time passed by Noan just brushes it off as just admiration

-These two losers always having a geek session on the topic of classical literature (*sigh* artists...)

Hyugo <<<chill Noan

Hyugo chill>>> Noan

-Noan met Hyugo through Sol

-Would bump into each other in the hallway and have some small talk

-Hyugo would sometimes tease Noan over the fact that his clothes looked similar to the student council uniforms

Geo <<<chill Noan

Geo neutral/chill>>> Noan

-They're just casual acquaintances who talk to each other on some occasions though it mostly just about academic stuff

-Noan and Geo are in the same class

-Geo may not show it but he appreciates it when Noan offers to help the group during hell weeks so sometime he goes out of his way to get Noan some chamomile tea whenever he sees Noan visibly exhausted

-(Geo is def the type of dude who's secretly nice and attentive but chooses to hide it, hes just a lil' shy chat xD)

Deryl <<<chill/friends Noan

Deryl chill/friends>>> Noan

-The two get along quite well, got closer thanks to Crowe introducing him to the circle

-Worships the ground that Noan walks on whenever Noan helps him with his schoolwork (esp when he gets busy w sports tournaments and has to head outside the university)

-homies help homies 🤝

-bro dances in front of the bathroom stall to distract ppl from the sound of Noan changing his pad lol

Britney <<<chill Noan

Britney chill>>> Noan

-They get along through their matching interest with japanese fashion

-Gyaru enthusiast 🤝 Ouji enthusiast

-Noan would sometimes help with styling Britney's hair and in return Britney would paint Noan's nails :D

Jessy <<<chill Noan

Jessy neutral/chill>>> Noan

-Study buddies

-Jessy tried to get Noan into the idol bandwagon but it wasn't really Noan's thing, still pretty respectful w it even though he doesn't really understand lmao

#ask scherbakova 🖋️💤#tkatb #the kid at the back #the kid at the back vn #tkatb vn

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ai-art-thieves · 1 day ago

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Ding dong, the witch is dead.

Looks like my hypothesis of these art thieving bots dying in December was incorrect.... because they all went inactive on November 13th.

The day before I posted the announcement that there were less than 10 active bots.

...Guess even a bunch of a grifters can get tired of grifting.

Now what?

Even though the Sevenart.ai bots are no longer active on this site, we still have no idea what or who Sevenart.ai even is.

The only way forward is to alert other artists on DeviantArt and other platforms about that site's existence and investigate it while it still exists.

As for what happens next after all the Sevenart stuff... well...

Just because Sevenart isn't doing anything doesn't mean that ai-scumbaggery is no more.

If you happened to encounter someone or something that uses AI art for unsavory/scummy practices, send me a tip.

I might even branch outside of reporting ai and take on lesser known gross acts that happen on this very site.

Did you know that there are blogs where people film women sexually without their consent and post them online?

Well, now you know.

And knowing is half the battle.

.....

I deeply apologize for that cheesy GI Joe reference. My brain saw an opportunity and auto-filled the results.

#important #artists on tumblr #cw ai art

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silent-stories · 13 hours ago

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Brother's best friend! Noah

Pairing: Noah sebastian x reader

Summary: sneaking out at night (again)

The house is quiet as you lie in bed, staring at the ceiling. The soft hum of the voices coming from the TV still on in the livingroom is the only sound breaking the silence.

Outside your window, the stars shine brightly in the deep night sky and the light filtering through the curtains is softly illuminating your bedroom.

It's been a couple of weeks since Jolly found out that you and Noah are together. He promised not to tell anyone and he kept his promise.

Your phone buzzes on your nightstand, snapping you out of your thoughts.

You reach over quickly, hoping it’s him. Knowing it's him.

Noah: I’ve been waiting for this all day

Noah: But Nicholas is still watching that damn movie.

Noah: If he doesn’t wrap it up soon, I’m gonna lose it.

You look at his texts as a little sigh leave your lips.

You: I know. I can’t even leave my room if he is still there.

You: It’s like he’s never gonna go to sleep.

Noah: Yeah, he’s definitely watching some crazy long documentary or whatever.

Noah: I bet we’re gonna be up til morning.

You roll your eyes, imagining Nicholas sitting there with that seriousness of his. There’s nothing that man loves more than a random documentary, sometimes.

You: That's so annoying.

For a moment, your phone doesn't lit up with a new text from Noah, and you already know he is thinking about something.

Noah: You think you can get out of your room from your window?

You freeze. Did he just suggest what you think he suggested?

You: Have you gone crazy? You know that’s not a good idea. It’s like 2 AM.

You can almost picture him grinning in his room as he texts you.

Noah: It’s the first floor. Just a little jump.

Noah: I’ll be here to catch you, don't worry. Give me 10 minutes.

You stare at your phone screen for a moment, unsure whether to laugh or scold him.

You: This is a terrible idea. What if someone hears something? What if they realize one of us is not home anymore?

Noah: Trust me. I’ve got this, it's not different than sneaking into my room.

Noah: You’ll be fine. Just get ready.

Reluctantly, you place your phone back on the bed and move to the window. You crack it open a few inches, peering into the night. You can see the glow of the porch lights shining on the grass below, but there’s no sign of Noah. You wait for a couple of minutes more.

A moment later, Noah is standing there, his hands tucked into the pockets of his oversized hoodie, the hood pulled low enough to hide his hair. He immediately smiles at you.

“What are you doing?” you whisper, trying to keep your voice steady as you lean out just a bit further.

Noah looks up at you. “I expect a "oh Romeo, Romeo, wherefore art thou Romeo?" Not a "What are you doing?""

"Dumbass."

"But you love me. And I love you too. And I wanted to see you.”

You roll your eyes but can’t help the soft smile that tugs at your lips. “Yeah, yeah,” you mutter, though the words come out more fond than annoyed.

Noah’s grin widens. “And I know you wanted to see me too. So here I am. Let's go.”

You chuckle softly, glancing down at the ground. He’s right—it’s the first floor. You can definitely jump without breaking anything.

"Why can't you just come inside now?"

"I liked our last "date", walking around and holding your hand like we are not hiding anymore. Even if it lasts only like an hour."

With a deep breath, you push yourself away from the window and quickly put on your coat.

Then, you take his hand, feeling the familiar spark of his touch that always both sends your heart racing and calms you down, and he helps you down onto the grass. The air is cool, but not too cold.

When he kisses you, for a brief moment, you let yourself forget the dangers, forget the secrets you’re keeping, and just breathe in the fresh air before losing yourself in the taste of his mouth.

You both start walking down the street, side by side. It’s quiet at this hour, with only the distant hum of streetlights and the occasional rustle of leaves in the trees. You can’t hold his hand like this during the day, can’t show him affection without worrying about someone seeing. But here, in the night, you’re free.

The walk is slow, peaceful. You don’t need to speak; just being together is enough.

You point to a group of stars in the sky, and Noah, pretending to know the constellations, starts making up their names, causing you to burst out laughing.

Then, out of nowhere, a small, scruffy cat darts across the road, stopping near a mailbox. Noah’s eyes light up in amusement, and he immediately drops to one knee, his smile softening.

“Oh my god,” he says, practically cooing. “Look at this little guy.” His voice drops to a teasing whisper as he holds out a hand to the cat. “You are the cutest thing I’ve ever seen, aren’t you?”

"Hey!"

"You are the cutest thing I’ve ever seen after my girlfriend, aren’t you?” He corrects himself.

You laugh, bending down beside him to join in. The cat doesn’t seem to mind the attention, rubbing against Noah’s hand with a soft purr.

You both chuckle. It’s so silly, so simple, and in this moment, it feels like you’re just two people enjoying a night under the stars, not two people hiding your love.

Eventually, you both stand up, saying bye to the cat, and Noah put his arm around your shoulders, starting to walk back home, keeping your hand in his the whole time.

When you reach your window, Noah helps you back inside. He leans up against the ledge, his face so close to yours that your heart nearly stops. You can smell the faint trace of his cologne mixed with the night air, and you feel like you could stay in this moment forever.

“Goodnight,” he says softly, pressing a gentle kiss to your lips and you lean down the window one last time.

You smile, feeling warmth spread through you as you gently pull back. “Goodnight.”

“See you tomorrow,” he says, his voice lingering with the promise of another secret meeting.

“Yeah.” you whisper back as you smile, watching him retreat to his own window.

This was your second date outside. You were almost getting used to it.

And you loved it.

The day after, you would find out that while your brother was watching the whole extended version of The lord of the rings, he noticed that Noah left his airpods on the coffee table in the living room.

And when he suggested bringing them to his room, to avoid him thinking he lost them like last time, Jolly insisted there was no need.

He was probably already asleep.

You definitely owed Jolly a big favor.

Tags: @anything-more-than-human @ladyveronikawrites @iloveyoutodeathbutimdrowning @collisionofyourkissmakesitsohard @fadingangelwisp @xmads-omensx @iwasntstable @thisbicc @pathion @mathfairchild1 @flowery-mess @into-the-grey @lma1986 @tosoundlessdarkistare @stardustsirenmelody @thewrstinme

#noah sebastian x reader #noah sebastian x y/n #noah sebastian fanfiction #noah sebastian fluff #noah sebastian #bad omens fanfiction

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myanmardoesnotexist · 18 hours ago

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Analysis of Why Valentino Cares So Much

So, I know I write a lot of fanfiction, but perhaps my favorite thing about Rosquez is the psychology of Valentino, specifically his bizarre fascination with Marc (This is outside of shipping goggles btw). As the years go on, this fixation with one specific rivalry has become increasingly more clear, and I kind of just wanted to dive into why I believe Valentino Rossi cares so much.

To me, it comes down to two things:

#1: Marc was the first to really win (in Valentino's eyes)

With Stoner, Lorenzo, and Sete it was a rivalry for sure, and there was anger, but Valentino seemed to view it as sort of a game he could control. And he did control it, he came out the victor both to the public and on track. When they eventually got over their rivalries years later, it was Valentino being a 'benevolent king' with the vibe of sparing his enemy. Even if they beat him in the championship, ultimately Valentino won the game of relevance and importance in MotoGP. With Marc it was slightly different. Valentino got the entire racing world to turn against Marc (in a way he never had before with other rivals), and yet somehow it didn’t work. Marc kept on winning, he brushed off the hate, and he’s well on his way to matching Valentino is championships next year. Even if Marc's reputation never recovered, even if we know that Marc was very hurt by this, none of it matters because he is the more relevant one now. Marc is still riding, is on the currently best team (a team that Valentino failed to bring a championship to) and each year more and more people view him in a better light.

On top of that, Marc's name is up there with Valentino's as one of the legends in MotoGP history. Stoner, Sete, and Lorenzo are all brilliant drivers and some of the greats, but that top list is Agostini, Doohan, Rossi, and Marquez. Valentino is arguably still more legendary than Marc, but he will never be able to escape from the younger man. Their names are up there together forever, and to Valentino that is a first with a rival. He cannot look at any of it and say that he won, so it must mean he lost.

#2 Marc was the first to actually hurt him personally.

With Marc he clearly felt in some way personally betrayed. He liked Marc, this is almost undeniable. He was proud of him, he cheered him on, they hung out, honestly Marc was almost an unofficial VR46 student with the way their relationship was in those early days. Yes, Marc represented a passing of the torch, but Valentino almost seemed okay with it at that point. Until he became competitive again and found out that Marc doesn't just look up to him or admire him, but wants to beat him, point blank, and will ride on the limit to do that. This came in 2014, but honestly I don't think is was as prominent because Marc had such a dominant season it was hardly a real fight. 2015 though, it was Valentino really fighting for the title. And he probably expected Marc to bend the knee, to be on his side. Maybe not help him, but not impede him in any way. But they had their friction throughout the year, and the fact that Marc was racing him just as hard as he races everyone else got into Valentino's head. Because Marc was supposed to be on his side. So if he's not, he must be against Valentino and for Jorge Lorenzo. There is no in between.

So he lashed out, he let paranoia hit him, and yet somehow he still didn't get satisfaction. Because even though he did his best to hurt Marc, the other man barely seemed to flinch (which we all know isn't true, but to Valentino I think it is). And that would be particularly rough, because it would mean Marc didn't care. That all of that friendship was one-sided on Valentino's part, that he was the one used, which to someone like him, who always has control, would be new and very very uncomfortable. And so he created this narrative that Marc never liked him, Marc never looked up to him, everything was a lie and a manipulation, and he is a villain with no heart. Because I think to Valentino it is impossible to even act like he doesn't still care. So if Marc can do that, it must mean all of it was fake.

To me these two reasons are why Valentino can't seem to let go of this one particular rivalry, and seems so viciously angry about it ten years after the biggest incident happened. His crazy brain fascinates me, and even if you look at it through a purely platonic, non-shipper lens, its one of the most interesting relationships in MotoGP.

#rosquez #marc marquez #motogp #valentino rossi

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atangledfate · 18 hours ago

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Lanolin watched Sonic, Belle and Kit enter, with Sonic leaning against a wall, and Kit finding a place to sit. She rubbed the back of her neck looking to Blaze with unsure eyes. It stood to reason that GUN had its network of spies. Two people knew all about Belle outside of the people who worked here. It was easy to assume Rouge and Shadow had given all kinds of reports to GUN though she liked to believe Rouge wouldn't have given those kinds of details.

" It could have been anyone, Both shadow and rouge work for GUN and had full access to this information. But even if we say they wouldn't do that--- plenty of volunteers come and go through the workshop. Any one of them could have overheard her, or us talk about it. Or they could have gained information from the eggnet itself... how isn't important right now. The fact is they know and she's on there radar... honestly this was bound to happen eventually. I think we all knew that... "

Sonic looked at Belle flexing his hands with that anger flashing across his face again. He wasn't gonna let anyone get to Belle, and he'd die before he let them take her. But Belle was right running from GUN was probably the last thing she wanted. This was a mess and worse, it wasn't the kind of mess he could punch away. Eggman was easy to deal with but GUN? Politics sucked! But his eyes went to Kitsunami and he couldn't help but worry how he'd react to Surge's plans, damn how was he gonna do this? His eyes shifted to Rowan as he came back and he smiled!

" Hah! well ring tail! you are doing better then most! you wouldn't believe how many can't hold it down! so kudos to you! "

His thoughts broke as Miles finally made his way up stairs, and Sonic and he shared a fist Bump. At least his mood seemed 10 shades brighter as if the fox mellowed him out. His eyes turned to Lanolin as she got everyones attention now that Miles was there.

" Alright... guess that is everyone but Surge--- Here is the situation! The United Federation of Nations president has personally spoke with me. He's made his stance clear... he sees Restoration as a rogue element... it was fine at first they even commended our work. But taking in Surge, Kitsunami, and Belle seemed to set of red flags. Clutch's deception only cemented there stance... "

" The President ants to shut us down until a full investigation can be performed. It's likely he intends to arrest Surge, and Kitsunami... i can't say what his intent with Belle is yet. The point is... if we fight back we become enemies of the the free world... enemies of gun and we prove them right! I don't trust them either... i doubt Amy would... I think we have to play there game... I don't see another way out of this that doesn't get people killed and our donations cut for good... "

She sighed and rubbed her own cheek looking at Belle and Kit specifically.

" Belle, Kitsunami and Surge i get it if you want to cut and run... i won't stop you. But this ... this is the only choice we have to keep our work going... no matter what i feel about you both, and i've come to see you as friends. I have to look out for the well being of the organization... our work is to important... i hope you understand..."

Sonic let out a deep breath through his nose, he somehow ventured this was the outcome. He hated every word Lanolin said! She was just gonna give up like that? and what let them come in and shut it all down! or worse take control? this was bullshit!

" Oh come on Lanolin you can't be serious! Those guys will make up what ever story they want! just let surge and i kick there butts! and send them packing! "

" No Sonic, she's right... Restoration relies heavily on donations and volunteers. If the United Federation of Nations declares us an enemy of the state or terrorists. We'd lose all funding, and worse people would be to afraid to help out. If we fight we lose, if they come in we still lose but at least there is a chance to fight it in court, or argue our side of things... logically speaking its a risky move but... if we fight we defiantly lose..."

Miles looked over at Belle with a sad look

" It might also be a chance for Belle to finally argue her case to the people and be accepted as a citizen... but, they could also dismantle her or lump her in with eggman. This is a big risk for all parties... especially surge, Kitsunami and belle... they have a tough choice to make..."

" Well, we chaotix have always remained free lance--- but ifin' they do come in and investigate. We can do our own investigation... least have our own evidence to use against them... but as someone who grew up in the hood--- If they gots the right judge you ain't ever gonna win that case... you all sure you wanna go down that road? "

" I know this is bad but ... unless anyone has better plan... i'm out of options... and the clock is ticking. I don't want anyone hurt... we all came together to fight eggman, not the goverment. I just--- i'm open to ideas... its why i called you here... "

"Though from what I know you concealed Belle's creator besides a select few, and I believe given how different her design is only someone used to fighting Badniks could put together who she was made by. In that sense, the mole either has to be one of the volunteer soldiers that's been here a while, or someone in the inner circle." Blaze was more concerned why go after Belle. She's never been seen with Eggman, or his forces. As far as they're concerned she's just an advanced robot living her life.

"I have doubts they'd take it that far, if only because did warn Lupus that attack me is like declaring war against the Sol Empire." It was a scare tactic, though an effective one as she was sure he mentioned it to the president. "If we have too I can simply move Belle, Surge, and Kitsunami to the Sol Dimension and bring them back some place else."

"I don't think Surge or Kitsunami would like that idea very much. I'm not opposed to it, even if I don't want to runway and stand my ground I'm sure that'd be a good idea. Though perhaps convincing them to leave me alone would be better in the long run." Belle was only offering her ideas as she entered the room right after Sonic. The tinkerer didn't want GUN breathing down her neck for the rest of her life.

Rowan would walk back in, looking a bit annoyed. "You know, you could've just asked me to leave for a second to talk to her. I've never moved at high speeds and nearly threw up my lunch." The lemur guessed he was being pushy, though was also trying not to come off too strong. Guess he needs to work on that a bit more, though there are certainly a lot of people her now.

A moment later Kitsunami would walk in, not saying a word to anyone before finding a chair and sitting down. The fennec never expected Surge to be here, sure she was out by the check point as a warning for GUN not to try anything. The tenrec wants him to keep the inside of the base safe so that's what he's going to do. Only intending to assist her if she calls him.

#Unit Commander #Lanolin #Blue Streak Speeds By #Sonic #All Grown up and Ready to Fly #Tails #The Karma Collector #Vector #Gears and Starters #Belle #Sorrowful Storm #Kitsunami #The Cool Uncle #Rowan

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thursdayinspace · 19 hours ago

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ficlet (breaking up just doesn't work for them)

or: thing that can stand on its own but might also maybe possibly be a WIP now, who the fuck even knows anymore, my WIP folder has given up on me at this point. Rating: Explicit

tagging @today-in-fic

---

They shouldn’t. They said they wouldn’t do this anymore. And she knows it’s the right decision—they can’t risk it interfering with their work, with their partnership. What they have together is too important. That hadn’t stopped her from spending the weekend on the couch crying after they’d decided to end it. And he’d been quiet on Monday morning, looking like he hadn’t slept in days, and the pain in his eyes every time he’d looked at her told her he was as heartbroken as she was.

It’s been weeks now. And she misses him like a severed limb even though they’re together all the time. But he doesn’t put his hand on her back anymore. He looks quickly away every time their eyes meet. She understands. He’s hurting the same way she is. She’s starting to wonder if they made the right decision. Some days it feels like she’s losing him, and she has to excuse herself and step outside for a moment, sit down somewhere out of view because her head is spinning as she tries to stop herself from hyperventilating. She knows it wouldn’t take more than a single look, a single touch to have him in her arms again, but she can’t, she can’t. They said they wouldn’t.

Five weeks. That’s how long they last before he knocks on her door on a Wednesday night after a long day at the office where they barely exchanged a word. He looks awful, like he’s been crying, and her heart hurts in her chest.

“Send me away,” he says, his voice breaking on the last syllable. “Please send me away.”

She doesn’t answer, keeps one hand on the door. She should close it. She should step back and let him in. She shouldn’t look into his beautiful sad eyes that cut into her soul and destroy her utterly until she feels tears prickling behind her eyes. She stands frozen in speechless indecision as the seconds tick past and give him her answer, and his palms framing her face make her paper-thin walls crumble. His first kiss is tentative but she can feel him trembling as she puts her hands on his chest, she can feel the pounding of his heart, and she wraps her arms around him and jumps as he lifts, her legs coming around his hips. She kicks the door closed once he steps over the threshold. Neither of them speaks as he carries her to the bedroom.

Touching his naked skin as he stretches out next to her isn’t the comfort she expected; it makes her desperate for him until she feels like she’s shaking apart with the love that’s pushing at the confines of her being. Finally he meets her eyes, the hunger in them stealing the breath from her lungs. All she can do as he kisses his way down her body is to close her eyes and put her hands in his hair. She can’t move, all her muscles are gone. She’s his now to do with as he pleases.

His mouth on her makes her moan and arch her back off the mattress. There are no words, not after these past few weeks, not for the magnitude of this love that only managed to grow during their separation. But she understands what he’s telling her. There are no words, but his mouth is saying everything she longed to hear for so long. His lips closing around her clit, his tongue pushing into her, the sounds he makes as he presses in closer, buries his face deeper against her and eats her out like he’s been starving. There’s relief and ecstasy in his voice as he gives himself to her, gives her what she needs.

Her orgasm washes through her in wave after wave of release so intense it makes her tears finally spill over; she’s coming for the first time in five weeks. She hadn’t even been able to touch herself with the loss of him numbing every part of her body and soul. He waits until she’s done before he crawls back up the bed, waits for her nod before he lowers himself between her legs and pushes into her, stretching her, filling her so completely. She’s always loved his size, but she welcomes it more than ever now. He’s everywhere.

His thrusts are slow and hard, his hands hooked around her shoulders to keep her in place, and she’s pinned to the mattress beneath him. He’s taking her, claiming her, and she digs her nails into his back, knowing he likes when she marks him, she’s seen him twisting around in front of a mirror admiring the scratch marks on his skin. He fucks her like he owns her, and he does, he does. The same way he’s given her ownership of his heart a long, long time ago.

She knows he needs to come, she can hear it in his breath, can feel it in the controlled, forceful roll of his hips, but he makes her come again first, and this time it happens slowly, the pressure building and building until she falls over the edge with a final push. She can’t breathe, can’t make a sound, her whole body is alive with pleasure that won’t end as he keeps going relentlessly even when his movements become frantic, erratic. He waits, he holds on until she’s spent, her body unclenching, sinking down against the rumpled sheets.

She holds him as he lets go, as he buries himself deep inside her and cries out, and she’s missed this more than she can fully understand. He’s shaking in her arms after he’s done and she wonders if it feels like this for everyone, like the universe isn’t big enough for everything she feels.

They don’t say the words. They don’t have to. They both already know.

#txf #the x files #msr #mulder and scully #fic #this wasn't supposed to happen #I was just shouting my feelings at some pals #I skipped lunch for this #I have exactly no self-control

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insert-something-funy-here · 2 days ago

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PHIGHT OR PHLIGHT

This is part 2!! Part three is in the works!!

Part 1 || Part 3

I hope yall know it makes me so happy to know people are interested in this HEHEHEGRHEJHEGEHRGR,,,,

Anyway, enjoy!!!

What a wholesome moment.

A ship kept safe by its anchor, the ocean nourished by the sand it wears at. But there’s a storm rolling in, one that will force its light upon this resonant scene.

Steps echo in the alley, a slow clap accompanied by thunderous laughter.

“Wonderful job my beautiful creation! I expected nothing less of you!” Shocked expressions made they way to Medkit’s and Biograft’s faces upon hearing Subspace’s voice.

Anxiety greets them both in Subspace's presence, for one it's an old friend, and the other, it's something entirely new. "What? Did you really think I didn't know know this would happen?" He sighs, good thing this experiment has served it's purpose. "You've changed from how I designed you, and look at how you've been dulled."

"I knew Meddy would never let me close to him outside of a phight, but then you presented me a new experiment to run! As tough as he may act, I know he feels some guilt. Enough to see you at least." Even with his mask and eyepatch, it was easy to see Subspace’s smile. Finally, after spending so long trying find Medkit, he would get his chance at vengence. "Come now my dear creation, help me finish this, and we'll-"

"No."

"No? What do you mean no?" Some defiance was to be expected with this. Allowing this variable to grow within him. But he's being led astray, and I have a parently duty to pull him back. "I was fine with a little disobedience, it served a purpose, but it seems you've strayed too far from my brilliance." He reached into a pocket and pulled out a remote. He sighs, "It's alright though, because unlike that man there, I can fix you!"

That remote. One of the emergency shut downs for Biografts. This one specifically was made for gen## Zeta Biografts. In Subspaces mind, Blackrock could handle the hit in security for a bit. Anyone who's worth something has a personal Biograft not connected to any of the servers one of those remotes would shut down anyway. And with one press, Biograft fell apart, "Well, isn't this familiar?" His laughter brought back memories, and it was sickening. Medkit felt himself back in that SFoTH forsaken lab, back against the wall, a deer in the headlights.

Though Biograft had fallen apart, there was a few seconds before his software finished shutting down. In these precious moments he saw a version of himself standing before him.

"Leave."

"If I do that we'll be back where we started."

"We're not the same anymore. You've changed your directive. Follow it before he makes you like us again."

A slight pause. "You're not yourself either."

"I'm surprised your body is still holding up." A desperate attempt at keeping composure.

"You didn't do that much to me!!" Evidence of how he's failing. "Him on the other hand," He looks at the fallen Biograft and back up Medkit. He steps forward, using mist walk, he clears the distance before Medkit could react. Biograft was supposed to be here to help, but perhaps Medkit watching his last chance at some sort of temporary catharsis die will put him at enough of a disadvantage.

Grabbing him by his tie Subspace shoves him into the wall, "Brings back memories doesn't it? Don't worry, you won't have to remember for much longer!" His other hand hovering dangerously close to Medkit’s last eye. Subspace's freezes for a moment, feeling Medkit’s revolver against his chest, and begins laughing. "What do you think you're going to accomplish with that, hmm? You use that to heal people remember? It's the only reason you keep it after all-"

"What do you know?" His grip tightened, "These bullets can end lives as quick just as they can save them."

"Oh please," Subspace moves his freehand to grip Medkit’s gun, "If you had the strength for that," he pulls it closer, "you would've shot me already."

In flash of teal light, Subspace is on the ground and Medkit has been freed. A familiar alarm blares in both their ears. Subspace sits back up and stares in shock, but before he can call out to the newly reformed Biograft, he's already left with Medkit.

"My creation... my once beautiful invention... my son..." it doesn't take long for this Biograft’s absence to eat away at him.

Biograft runs as far as he can, Medkit in his arms. He makes wide jumps across rooftops, no real direction other than away. Away from Subspace, away from his 'siblings', away from Blackrock. He's overheating, he's going to collapse again.

"Go left here."

Which meant they needed somewhere safe to go, and to follow the quickest directions there. Medkit knew somewhere they could stop, the two of them just had to hope Biograft could make it that far.

#phighting!#phighting roblox #roblox phighting #phighting subspace #subspace phighting #medkit phighting #phighting medkit #subspace t mine #phighting biograft #biograft phighting #phighting au #writers on tumblr #writing #fanfic #it gets worse #hehehehehehe #I LOVE BEING MEAN TO FICTIONAL CHARACTERS #phight or phlight #ill add more tags later

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peppermintquartz · 2 days ago

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(felt like adding something to this)

Buck stumbles out of bed and gets to his door before the knocking gets any more agitated. No one has texted him to say they're coming over, so it may be an irate neighbor here to complain about the KitchenAid.

He's not ready to see Tommy standing outside in a black fitted tee and tight jeans.

Tommy looks... different, in the week since he walked out on Buck. His shoulders aren't rounded and his posture is perfect. There's a sharpness to his jaw and his hair is gelled with a swoop. And he's wearing boots instead of his usual sneakers.

"Evan?"

Buck blinks. Something is wrong. This isn't how Tommy says his name, unless Tommy really doesn't -

"Tommy."

"No, not Tommy. I'm Donovan. Tommy is my younger brother - twins." He flashes a smile, and it's so similar to Tommy yet so different that Buck's mind is reeling. "He was supposed to introduce us next week, when I have time to come and stay for the weekend."

Inhaling sharply, Buck takes a step back. "He has a twin. Six months... What other secrets did he have? Maybe he's not even gay! M-maybe he has a, a wife and three kids and that's why-"

"Hey, Evan, breathe. Relax."

"Don't call me Evan," Buck snaps at Not-Tommy. Donovan. "Shit. This is... This is bullshit."

Donovan steps back and holds up his hands. "I don't know what I'm supposed to call you, because Tommy only ever talked about his 'boyfriend Evan' to me."

"Buck. You can call me Buck."

"And I prefer Rocker." Rolling his eyes at Buck's quizzical frown, he says, "Tommy and I are twins that didn't grow up together. Since we were eight, we've been living with different parents. Divorce. Mom got me, Dad got him. It sucked for Tommy and Mom tried her best, but, well."

"Still doesn't explain why Tommy didn't mention a twin."

"Look, can we talk inside?" Rocker asks.

Buck folds his arms and blocks the door. "No."

"Dude, I just wanna-"

"Donny!" The shout comes from the elevator. Buck looks over and his heart skips three beats. It's Tommy, the real one, and he looks an absolute mess. He's a little broader in the jaw and the features of his face softer, gentler. He's not shaven, there are bags under his eyes, and his hair is frizzy and tangled in the longer parts. The shirt he has on is a size larger and his jeans are relaxed fit and he has his blue Reeboks on.

That's his Tommy.

(His. His his his his his.)

"I'm trying to help," Rocker says, his hands on his hips.

Tommy makes a face and his mouth goes thin and unhappy. "You can't just show up at my boyfriend's place - ex-boyfriend. I meant." He clears his throat and glances at Buck. "Sorry. We'll leave."

"Hell we are," says Rocker. He slings an arm around his twin's waist and catches Tommy's free arm before he can land a punch. "Baby bro, I've taken down armed men who want to kill me. Your efforts are futile."

"You're the fucking worst."

Buck stares at the two, and exhales heavily. Stranger things have happened. He steps aside and says, "I've a walnut loaf and an apple pie that needs eating. Come on in."

As Tommy is dragged past him, Buck says, "If you call me Buck, I'll whack you with a rolling pin."

Donovan Rocker tilts his head and a delighted smile creeps onto his face. "Oh, so that's why I can't call you Evan!"

"This had better be good," Buck grumbles, even though he's secretly happy to shut and lock the door with Tommy in here with him. His brother can find his own way down from the balcony.

"Donny, not today."

"Hell you mean not today," Donovan Rocker pushes his way into his twin brother's house. "You drunk called me, crying about your boyfriend whom you were supposed to introduce to me next week, saying that you broke up 'for his own good', and you think I won't take a couple days off to check on you? Fat chance, fathead."

Tommy groans and drops onto his sofa. "Whatever, man."

"What happened?"

"He asked me to move in with him."

"Tommy that's awesome! You love the guy!"

Tommy cracks open an eye. "Donny, he didn't even tell me he loves me. And I have a fucking house, okay? I have a whole damned house which you are sitting in."

Rocker makes a face. "Did you say that to him?"

"Like that's gonna make a difference." Tommy shuts his eyes and tilts his head back. "Fuck. Fuck all this. At least now he doesn't have to know how shitty I am."

Humming in sympathy, Rocker sits next to Tommy and carefully gathers his twin into a hug. Tommy resists a little at first, but then gives in to lie on Rocker's shoulder, curling his socked feet onto the cushions.

"Sometimes I think Mom should've fought harder to have custody of us both," Rocker says quietly, after a while. "She'd have got that low self-esteem out of you somehow."

"Yeah, well. Wishes and horses."

Rocker kisses the top of his twin's head. "I'll stay here tonight, baby bro. Seems like you need someone in your corner."

"I'm only eight minutes younger," Tommy grumbles, but he doesn't chase Rocker away; his arms wrap more tightly around his twin, pretending it's not a different body he wants in his embrace.

#tommy kinard #donovan rocker #crossover #twin au #evan buckley

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murkystarlight · 3 days ago

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Sleeping habits headcanons for the New Order!

Or like.. idk. Pajamas. Habits. You know? I don't know \_(°>°)_/

Jesse - hugs something in their sleep. Just loosely holds it(used to sleep with Reuben so is capable of not holding things in a death grip while asleep). Sleeps in a loose shirt and baggy sweatpants. Just very big comfy clothes will do. Often steals clothes from their friends wardrobe. Just to see how comfortable they are^^. Does some mumbling and shuffling if they dream. Other than that they're pretty still and quiet. Sleep pattern is quite irregular. But manages to sleep a full 2hours of sleep each time. Has a few nightlights to turn on at night before sleeping. Not all the time. Mostly when they're lonely, sad or scared.

Olivia - sleeps with blindfold on. Nothing overly decorated. Just a plain blindfold. Maybe some ruffles. And glitter. Okay- maybe a little decorated. Due to her overworking, sometimes she ends up falling asleep in her daily clothes. But she finds it uncomfortable. Likes to sleep in something fluffy/fuzzy. Quite the stylish sleeper. And maybe a sleep cap too. Rambles a bit while sleeping. But doesn't move much. Maybe the occasional turning left, then turning right. But no big movements. Sleep pattern... she does have a schedule. It's kept pretty well. Except when she's caught up in her work. She misses the chance. Until she gets back in touch with reality... she stays awake and work. Though she does try her best to clean up and sleep once she is broken out of her daze.

Axel - very free. Sleeps when ever he wants. But. Once he falls asleep, he most definitely will end up sleeping a full 8 hours before waking up. He is a heavy sleeper. You just CANNOT wake him up. You need very specific methods if you really need to. Doesn't move much or talk while asleep. But he snores. He- well I- sorry. But my brain kind of sees him similar as my dad- and I think Axel would often sleep with just... just his underwear. Or +his shirt along with it. Probably a normal short sleeved t-shirt. Even in winter. Short sleeved. Dunno why tbh... mhm. Likes holding something while sleeping too. Nothing too big or heavy. Maybe a blanket.

Petra - nightgown. I don't care what you say. She wears a nightgown. Capiche? Capiche. Something simple. Just like a long black nightgown(though only when there isn't anyone else there with her maybe?). Often wears simple shirt and shorts too. Actually- she doesn't sleep much when she's on adventure. But when she does.... now. She has two ways of sleeping. Most of the time she's quiet and still. Like. Dead still. (They had to wake her up a few times to check if she was alive.) She wakes up very easily. Light sleeper. Probably a habit from having to sleep in caves and avoid getting ambushed. Can tell if she's needed or if there is commotion around while she's asleep. But second one, if she wears out completely or gets knocked out, she sleeps deep. Too deep. But now she can't stay still. She is.. uh... all over the place. All of the time. She wakes up on the other side of the bed. The blanket sprawled around somewhere randomly. Also really loud. Mumbling, talking, groaning... slight snoring.. because she's able to sleep peacefully? And she normally stays on guard even when asleep but during this she feels safe? Or secure in some cases. Or because she just wasn't expecting to fall asleep like that. Also sleeps while holding something, tightly. Very tightly. Maybe like.. a small rock in her hand? Or clings onto a person or a body pillow. Anyways. Survival instincts and keeping on edge most of the time, even during her sleep. Probably ended up sleeping in every day clothes or maybe even armor when she couldn't find a place to sleep while outside. Isn't the best but.. it's okay. Oh- right! She sleeps with her bandana on

Lukas - stripes. Yes. Striped pajamas. And the... Santa hat looking sleeping hat. But he doesn't mind if he sleeps in his everyday clothes. He will sleep in jeans and not complain. Mhm. He also sleeps in the weirdest poses. Says it's comfortable(doesn't mind it). Talks a bit in his sleep, though it's more like whispering. Doesn't move while he sleeps. Probably so that he doesn't disturb Dewey when he sometimes sleeps nearby. Purring can be heard. Either from the cat or the man himself. Cares more about the place he sleeps in than the stuff he wears. But- he likes fluffy fleeces maybe?

☆finishing☆

Jesse's opinion of sleepware!!

(All borrowed from friends who totally agreed)

Axel - his clothes are big. Almost like a nightgown or a oversized shirt for me. So that's a plus. It's comfortable. Also. His shirts have a lot of fun, cool designs on it. I like them. Would recommend(to who??)

Olivia - actually, we often share our clothes(similar size). It's quite nice trying on each others style. But it's true that she.. doesn't let me take it without any notice. Which- is exactly what I do all the time. Plus, her sleepwear is warm from the fuzz and fluff. Eye shade tickles too much for me though. Plus... I kind of prefer the light

Petra - so. While I was going through her closet. Guess what I found. Nightgown! It's pretty classy. Don't know why she never wore this during sleepovers but- it's very nice. Makes me slip a whole lot. But I get to wear it. Besides, it's for sleeping. It doesn't matter if it's too long and I.. keep constantly slipping on it...-

Lukas - okay. His pajamas are..... surprisingly warm. Ooo his fleece is also really soft and warm. Kinda strange that most of his pajamas are stripes. And all in the same color too. He has ones that aren't stripes sure.. but the ones that are stripes? Why is it all the same color??

Gabriel- I went on ahead to steal- I mean. Borrow, some clothes from other friends. Gabriel has pretty simple clothes. Just shirt and pants. Colors are pretty simple too. But they're definitely good for sleeping. Very comfortable

Soren - is that a robe??! ...eh. who cares. I look good in it 🙃

Ivor - surprisingly, he doesn't sleep in his "breathable" clothes. He just has a normal set of pajamas. He also has a nightgown. Fancy too

#mcsm #minecraft story mode #mcsm lukas #mcsm petra #mcsm jesse #mcsm axel #mcsm olivia #mcsm headcannons #and a bit of the old order #this is a long post... wew #ramble ramble ramble

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osakhee · 12 hours ago

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never enough, virgin!wonbin x reader

! endurance training, handjob, overstimulation, edging, slight dacryphilia

note : FINALLY something is done with the virgin wonbin thoughts ive been having for a week ..... 🙂‍↕️

"can i please at least be inside just once?"

"nope. not until you can hold it better."

"you always say that... i've done well the last time, when will it be enough?"

"it will never be enough. not until i say so."

wonbin lays back on his seat with a pout. he's glad the bus is mostly empty so no one can catch a glimpse of your conversation. you both sit at the far back of the bus, away from all the people going home at this hour. wonbin looks outside the window just to be met with the heavy droplets that pour outside, and he turns his head to look at you. he's still sulking, and the serious glare you throw at him makes his heart jump in his chest.

wonbin is your classmate. actually, he's more than that, but you like the "classmate" title, even though the boy doesn't think the same. he'd rather call your relationship "friends with benefits but he's the only one getting benefits". when at school, wonbin is all talk about how good he's in bed, he laughs at his male friends for being virgins at their age. he has the pretty face to make anyone believe his words, but little do they know he actually turns into a puddle when you get your hands on him. you wanted to see for yourself how good he is, he's handsome, and since he said he fucks well, why not? but when you dragged him behind the lockers, wonbin turned into a blushing mess, he didn't even know where to put his hands when you kissed him. he was moaning in your mouth in no time, so hard in his pants he felt like he could burst only from your lips that left his to pepper kisses on his jaw. he begged you not to tell anyone, so instead, you exposed you plan to him. he loses his virginity, and you get to fuck him and with him.

wonbin had no idea at first that fucking with him would mean hours of playing with his cock and nipples, jerking him off so slowly it would make his thighs tremble everytime your fingertips touched his skin. you asked him to keep the count, but he can't recall how many times you made him cum anymore. each time, he would be a shaky and whiny mess, he'd beg you to finally give him what he wants. you always promised it for next time, and thinking of the reward of being inside of you always made him harder than ever.

but now it's been weeks since you started to play with him. wonbin is over at your home almost everyday, and he's never getting his way. the way you would taunt him to reveal his little secret always made him comply and fall to his knees so you could stick your thumb in his mouth until he's drooling all over it.

the bus that's taking you and wonbin home finally reaches your stop, and you take the boy's hand to get down. to anyone, you would probably look like a cute couple walking back from school together. but the grip you have on wonbin's wrist and the tension he's feeling all over his body say otherwise. he can already feel the warmth painting his cheeks red and the anticipation building in his lower stomach. you both walk in silence until you reach your apartment. when the door opens, wonbin doesn't even wait for you, he gets inside and walk straight to you room. he wouldn't want to mess up his routine. you take your time, put down your jacket and bag before joining him.

wonbin sits on your bed with large puppy eyes, he's still upset at how harsh you were to him on the bus. he can't tell you how much it turns him on, or you'll have another reason to mess with his head, his secrets getting heavier each time you see each other. you walk to the bed and let your hand travels his face, from his jaw to his pretty lips, your fingers mess with his hair. you tug on his locks lightly to make his head fall back and give you a prettier view of his neck, his smooth skin almost perfect under your hungry lips. wonbin sighs heavily at the contact of your warm mouth, he grips the sheets in his hands, his legs rub together to get some frictions on his clothed dick.

you get away from his skin and push him down on the bed, his back gently hitting the blanket. wonbin knows what's next. his hands reach the hem of his shirt before taking it off, he then hurriedly opens his pants to get rid of any clothes that stops his cock from finally breathing. he doesn't care being naked in front of you anymore, he's used to your eyes burning his body when you look at him. wonbin takes a deep breath when he slides his underwear down, his already red and leaking dick hitting his stomach. you sit next to him and watch it twitch with anticipation, wonbin is almost moaning just from your warm presence next to him.

"are you ready?"

"if i do well, can i finally fuck you next time?"

"depends on how long you last today."

wonbin rests his head on the bed, his chest heaves with his sharp breaths. you let your fingers travel his faintly toned stomach and wonbin already squirm under your touch, shivers covering his whole body. your nails graze his skin down his thighs, his cock drips some more precum when you get so close to it. you could watch him for hours and drive him crazy, your hands massaging his inner thighs enough to have him cum untouched. with one finger, you draw slow circles on his lower stomach, going all the way up his length and rubbing his slit, his arousal quickly coating your finger. you lay next to wonbin and wrap your hand around his dick, your mouth finds one of his nipple and you suck eagerly on it.

the boy on your bed is already a moaning mess, his back arches on the sheets and his hips buck into your hand to get any kind of friction, but you stay completely still, only giving attention to his chest. your tongue twirls around his hardened pink bud, it makes wonbin cry out your name. he claws at the bed desperately for more, and after one more kiss on his chest, you sit up next to him again. you finally give attention to his cock that's calling for you, and stroke him at a dangerously slow pace. wonbin tries to steady his breath as much as he can, his eyes closed and concentrated on the pleasure you give him.

it doesn't take long to break him apart though. once you start paying more attention to his leaking tip, his hips jerk up constantly in your hand and you have to pin him down. the cries that come out of his throat are broken by your name rolling on his tongue over and over again. the way his thighs are shaking when you pick up the pace tell you everything you need to know. you give wonbin one more stroke before letting go of his dick. his knuckles turn white from how hard he's holding the covers under him, his cock twitches desperately. you rub your thumb on his slit and wonbin's back arches again on the bed.

"stop moving so much, that's how you get tired so fast."

"p-please.... give me m-more..."

"you will cum so fast thought."

"i won't i-i swear i won't please keep g-going..."

you want to believe wonbin's weak promise and you wrap your hand again around his length. you watch him close his eyes again and put all his willpower in stilling his hips for you. you give him lazy strokes again, your hand covered in the sticky precum that keeps rolling down his cock. you rest your other hand on his thigh and he jumps in your touch, his lips parting in a silent moan. for a while, only the wet sound of your palm around his dick and his heavy breathing can be heard in your room.

since you started your little training with wonbin, he never really got better, he would always cum awkwardly fast especially if you started teasing him. he lasted longer the last few times though, and you couldn't wait to have him inside of you and feel him filling your insides after a few thrusts. you loved watching him cry out your name each time he ended up fucking your fist, his hips desperately bucking up to meet your hand after you edged him for hours so he can finally gets the sweet release he's begging for.

every once in a while, you leave wonbin's cock to watch him from your place, you sit crossed legged on your bed and smile at the boy's desperation. his black hair stick to his forehead and his chest shines with a thin coat of sweat, his hands weakly rest next to him as he got tired from holding the sheets so tightly. beads of precum form on his slit and roll down his cock or drop on his lower stomach. it stains your bed, it makes your hand sticky and wet, and it gives shivers to wonbin each time you blow on his dick with a chuckle.

it's always when wonbin is the less ready that you start to jerk him off again, you barely listens to him as he speaks about his day so his mind would focus on anything but his throbbing cock. you grip his dick out of nowhere and hear his breath catch in his throat. his thoughts get lost in the pleasure, unable to form a single word but the desperate "please" that escapes his lips over and over again. you pout at his sensitivity and you tighten your grip around him, your palm very slowly making its way up and down.

"are you close already?"

"mmhh... p-please..."

"can you hold it a little longer? just a little."

"i'm n-not... not sure... it's s-so..."

"just a little more, i know you can do it."

wonbin hides his face in the sheets when you quicken your pace, his hips buck up again in your hand and you instantly let go of his cock. wonbin's head jerks up to look at you with a pleading whine, only for his head to drop back when you flatten your hand on his tip. his back arches and his hands find their way in his hair to push away the strands that cover his eyes. your palm rubs the sensitive head of his cock, wonbin's breath gets more erratic and louder. you give him a few pumps and check your phone that sat next to you on the bed. he's actually handling it well, probably the best he has done yet, but it's still not enough for you. you just want to make sure he could last when fucking you, you're just helping out! you feel wonbin's dick pulse in your hand and you stop all your movements again to squeeze it. his voice breaks into a high pitched cry, the tears that had been filling his eyes finally flowing down his cheeks. it's always been your favorite sight, he's such a wreck when you get your hands on him and he's never been more beautiful to you. you massage his thighs and from the way his cock throbs constantly, you can tell he's so close just a touch could make him burst.

"p-please... i'm gonna- i w-wanna cum please... i n-need to cum s-so bad..."

"hmm... you've done well... but it's not enough you know that."

when you start stroking him again, you see his head dig into the mattress and deep in the blanket, his fingers clawing at the sheets, his parted lips let every moan escape his throat. you can't tell if his cheeks glisten because of the sweat or because of his tears that roll down his face and down his neck.

"you know wonbin... i might just let you fuck me next time..."

"a-ah please... i-i'm cumming p-please i'm c-cumming..!"

you jerk him off faster and watch the ropes of hot and thick fluid hit your fingers and his tensed stomach, you make sure to grip his tip through his orgasm that has his thighs shaking. his hips stutters in your fist until he weakly shoots one last drop of cum on your hand. wonbin tries to get away from you and your teasing hand that keeps playing with his sensitive cock, he turns to the side and burry his whines in the sheets, he can't control the desperate thrusts of his hips until you finally let go of him. you check your phone again while wonbin catches his breath, he sniffles audibly when he finally sits up next to you. you look at his messed up face and push away gently a few strands of hair that stick to his forehead, your hand then resting on his cheek so you can wipe away his tears. wonbin looks at you with shining hopeful eyes that could make you melt.

"did i- did i do well? d-did i hold it long enough?"

"you know it's never enough to me... but you did well, i might actually let you inside me next time. you'll do well this time too, right?"

wonbin's cock weakly twitches at your words and the smile he gives you have you burning inside. maybe he could actually hold it when he fucks you. you couldn't wait.

im crazy wonbin is all ive been thinking about for the past few days im CRAZYYYYYY thank you cee for supporting me through the wonbin breakdown

#riize smut #wonbin smut

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multimilfs · 3 days ago

Note

POV POV POV anything from agathas perspective (maaaybe smth jelly or protective 👀 im not picky tho)

hmm, this was a hard (but fun) one! i've been toying with some Agatha POVs in the new chapter(s) so this was a nice little exercise for that. not exactly what you requested, but i hope you like it regardless, darling!! i had so much fun playing around with this!!

also--spoilers for The Reigning Game CH5 below the cut

Agatha's POV:

"Help me up." Agatha demands.

When she inhales, it's choked. There's an odd heat to the feeling of her flesh sliding over the blade. Like the searing pain should be temporary. But it renews again with each breath, forcing adrenaline and rage into her veins.

The rage, so familiar and comforting, calls forth her magic, beckons it forward from that never-ending well somewhere deep in her person. Her power writhes in the same agony she does as soon as it surfaces. It claws at her, desperate for a foothold to pull away from the pain, from whatever is imbued in the fucking sword that makes her unable to rid herself of it. It begs for the pain to end. She cannot make it stop.

She lets loose a long string of curses.

Agatha doesn't know who this Witch is, but when she does she's going to destroy her slowly. She'll turn her magic against her so she feels the never-ending torment of her body unraveling. And when she begs for mercy, Agatha will give it to her; but she won't let her keep it.

Stupid fucking Witch. Stupid plans and you and biding her fucking time when she should just--

"Why should I?"

Agatha freezes. She holds her breath, which is a strange relief for her abdomen, though her lungs scream. She tilts her head back to look at you.

You, beautiful and kind and arrogant and foolish. You, with the sun at your back, surrounding your person in a ring of golden light. You, the problem and solution.

She really knows how to pick them.

There's a desire roiling in your eyes that intrigues her. Bloodlust. It lingers every time you look at her, every time you sit in silence long enough to consider how you might bring her to heel. Yet, in some deep part of her, Agatha knows this bloodlust isn't yours.

You're too still.

"Don't do this. Not now."

Your laugh is quick, easy, wrong, "I never took you for a sore loser, Harkness."

Harkness. Like saying her true name is beneath you; the Witch has kept that much true, at least.

“If you want to win, stab me yourself—don’t profit off of someone else’s fortune.”

She knows you desire her death for yourself, you always have. You've fought her tooth and nail every step of the way. Just like that day.

That day when she had outmaneuvered you, leaving your forces surrounded in the old fortress. Agatha hadn't seen the bodies she leveled, focused solely on meeting you halfway, as if called by some outside force. The blood had clung to her skirts though.

Upon her approach, you had wasted no time. You lunged, a flurry of blows and slashes so fast even she fought to keep up. You danced around the bodies she left trailing behind her. Even with the advantage of age and power you were quicker, flitting in and out of space before she could fathom how to catch you. A Goddess of beauty and rage and determination.

Agatha's familiar enough with manipulation--familiar enough with you--to see through the clumsy attempt.

Your head tilts, observing her like a specimen in a jar. Agatha's magic still roils and writhes within her, equal parts desperate to escape the pain and eager to prod you until the emotion in your eyes is your own. How dare that Witch alter what is already perfect?

“You don’t get it, do you?” You ask, “Being rid of you is winning. How it happens is irrelevant.”

The way out, wickedly deposited into her lap.

Agatha smirks through the pain.

Winning. Winning for whom? Not those masses your heart bleeds for. The poor and downtrodden Agatha rarely spares a thought for, but whom you had gone to war to defend.

The woven mask cracks, a hint of you peeking through. Her eyes rake down your form. Her head tilts. It's a shame, really; such a stunning example of fury, butchered by ham-handed manipulation.

“You’d be beautiful like this—if it was really you.”

the original scene (for context):

Lightness sweeps through your limbs. Walking away now would be so easy. It is your turn to have the last word.

“Help me up.” Agatha demands.

Her chest rises, though stutters each time as the pain of her flesh sliding over the blade renews. Under her breath she lets loose a string of obscene curses.

You tilt your head, your own voice sounding far away, “Why should I?”

Agatha freezes. For the first time since falling, she looks at you. You’re struck by the change in circumstances; not long ago it was you kneeling at her feet, begging. You’re seized by the desire to feel her beg.

You want to hold her heart in your hands and squeeze.

“Don’t do this. Not now.”

The laugh comes too easy, “I never took you for a sore loser, Harkness.”

“If you want to win, stab me yourself—don’t profit off of someone else’s fortune.”

You stare at her, hard; the paling of her skin, the way her fingers are clenched in the grass, palm sputtering purple. Her eyes are furious. There’s also something else there you can’t quite place.

“You don’t get it, do you?” You ask, “Being rid of you is winning. How it happens is irrelevant.”

Agatha’s lips pull into a smirk. It lacks the usual strength, but you still find yourself unmoored—fear creeping in where triumph was moments earlier.

Her eyes drag over you. Her own head tilts.

“You’d be beautiful like this—if it was really you.”

You can’t breathe.

#asks #ask games #agatha harkness x reader #this was SO FUN #i loved writing the OG scene so the idea of seeing it through Agatha's eyes is chefs kiss

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suchusoid · 2 days ago

Text

Endeavor is such a replusive human being that I cannot for the life of me understand how hori thought he was redeemable. This guy bought his eife when she was 17, forced her to have kids against her will, completely gave up on his eldest zon and let him burn to death, and practically tortures his youngest son and wife.

Even outside his household the guy has all the traits of a turbo douche nozzle. He regularly tries to kill villains( and has definitely succeeded in offscreen instances), gives little thought to the area around him in battle, rushes in without a plan, acts like a jerk around everyone, is heavily implied to be sexist, and probably looms down in heteromorphs if his sons choice of words are anything to go by.

Everyone else seemed off put by him also aside from his sycophantic lackeys( the flamin sidekickers), not to mention him being considered the most villainous looking hero in japan. All this makes me wonder how hes been abpe to do this for so long without getting caught? Considering the hpsc have sent assassin to kill corrupt heroes in the past, you'd think they'd want endeavors head roasted hot on a stick... unless they changed tactics of maintaining their illusion.

This is something that I incorporated into my own rewrite, but what if the hpsc decided to cover up corrupt heroes instead of killing them, seeing as the last hero assassin turned on them, all they have to do is make sure the public doesn't know of the heroes crimes.

In fact, this is why they want to get rid my oc herpeton so badly, see at first he was just commiting unlicensed heroism, but after the sports festival when he had a hand in exposing endeavor, and left a message that essentially said " you're next " they realized he was much bigger threat to their illusion than they though, he aided in having the current no 1 hero incarcerated, which would create a domino effect of people being less trustong the heroes and not worship them as much.

Endeavor Deserves No Sympathy!

I don't understand how anyone can think Endeavor was ever a good dad. It also always comes off as incredibly victim blamie, especially towards Touya, and often Shoto too.

He literally only got married and had kids to use them. He never gave a shit about their well being, never even thought about it until he had the one thing he cared about and was still miserable. I've already gone over the math proving he gave up on achieving his dream himself at 21 at the absolute latest. (https://www.tumblr.com/arceus-insanity/763259515356512256/i-liked-endeavors-character-when-he-was?source=share)

And basic math will once again be used to prove just how little this waste of flesh actually tries.

This time the focus is on how quickly he abandoned Touya and immediately went to emotional abuse via neglect & literally replacing him, and once again risking that more children be born with self-destructive quirks.

For context we only see Endeavor doing anything with his kids that's not him literally walking through and ignoring them in two circumstances. Once when Fuyumi's a newborn and Touya is attempting to crawl (not walk) over to her. And training. Those are the only times he tries to spend with any of them, even after he starts his 'atonement'

Now comparing Touya in the scene of them training and himself as a toddler and all the child imagery this series loves to use instead of actually saving imperfect victims, Touya is at least 3 (probably closer to 4) when he's taken to the doctor and they are informed of his condition

Natsuo is 4 and a half years younger than him.

We know for a fact Natsuo (& Shoto) was conceived after they got the news, not willingly either. Pregnancy takes 40 weeks average, so Touya would still be 3 when Natsuo was conceived. So once again it took this 'man' less than a year to give up and have another child he hoped to use as a tool, and was explicitly making to hurt his existing son. And as I have said plenty of times before, risking that the new kids could be born with the same disorder, I hate how convenient it is that Shoto gets near zero negative quirk side effects.

Want to know what we never see, Endeavor doing something else with Touya and Touya demanding training, it's always him walking past/ away from Touya. Considering all of the shit they've pulled to soften Endeavor's abuse both in the manga and even more so in the anime, they wouldn't skip something like this. It's not hard to tell that Touya's 'obsession with training' is really about spending time with his dad, you know like a human child that literally needs love, proven by numerous studies and research in the real world.

He throws all parenting responsibilities onto Rei, adds more children to that load, and when Touya suffers for it (like everyone else) he does nothing, doesn't even hire a nanny

Another are you kidding me take I've seen is that somehow Touya's quirk issues are worse than Midoriya's and Yuga's. Touya managed to train his quirk to produce blue fire at 13 with zero equipment and less than no help, and only lost control of it, because of the mental abuse Endeavor had inflicted on him leading him to a mental breakdown. And/ or the theory I've only seen once of AFO using his ability to force quirk activation (seen with a passed out chapter 90 during his first confrontation with All Might)

Midoriya was breaking his bones all the way into the Shie Hassaikai arc and was only able to fight because Eri and was breaking support equipment in the following arc as well. Yuga had a support belt all the way back in the entrance exam and was still struggling with that.

Speaking of Yuga let's compare parental effort here, because as much as it backfired Yuga's parents tried a whole lot more. For starters they nearly bankrupted themselves to get him a quirk, so he could feel equal. All For One is a mythic man prior to his arrest, and those who knew of him were shown to be serious long-term villain groups, so they had gone to quite a bit of effort to find that he existed to begin with. They also got him support gear (the navel belt thing) as a kid to help him with said quirk, he literally had it in the entrance exam. Endeavor never looked into that, Endeavor is not only rich too but he's a top hero he would have direct access to support equipment companies that would jump at the opportunity and it never even occurred to him.

Endeavor's name is an irony as endeavour means to try hard to do or achieve something. He never tries hard he gives up incredibly quickly the second there's any road block, but instead of moving on he makes everyone suffer for it. He's a toxic pageant mom who'd rather force their child into a toxic world and a role they don't want than work on himself

And what finally makes him change? Getting exactly what he wanted and still being miserable, and he still expects through his actions his family to cater to him.

Not his son getting a major disability due to his actions, no, he decided to double down, mentally abusing and neglecting the son he supposedly loves, raping his wife who didn't want more kids or participate in this abuse, and again risking that Natsuo & later Shoto might have that same issue. Not when his wife breaks down and permanently scars his precious masterpiece, who proceeds to rightfully blame him, and he just thinks of it as a tantrum despite it lasting a fucking decade. Not when his eldest literally dies as the result of his selfishness. Not literally during any part of this entire process!

Dabi is 23 when Endeavor finally starts to 'try' to be better, that means that for at least 24 years he has only been caring about his fucking precious number one spot in a popularity contest that he couldn't even bother to try to be likeable for, this wasn't one bad decision, this was him constantly choosing to be so insanely selfish that he found ways that shouldn't even be possible for over two decades. And it was all him.

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