#i blacked out and wrote this dont ask

[ink-knight]

"Darling, you're spacing out."

A soft voice snapped Dan Heng out of his thoughts. With a small smile on his face, he looked back at Boothill, the source of the voice. The man was standing behind him, his mouth inches away from Dan Heng's ear.

"Ah," Dan Heng said dumbly. "I apologize, was there something you wanted to talk to me about?" He asked, setting his keyboard aside.

Boothill let out a sigh, wrapping his metal arms around Dan Heng's shoulder and burying his face into his neck. "Nothin, i just missed ya, is all."

At that sentence, Dan Heng could feel his face beginning to flush. He wasn't used to this, the way Boothill held him. Strong and flush against him, like a sturdy wall to keep him from falling over. "All of a sudden?" Dan Heng asked, his voice barely a whisper.

" 'Course," Boothill hummed, the vibrations going straight into Dan Heng's neck. "What, I ain't allowed to?" He pursed his lips, tilting his head to make eye contact with Dan Heng.

He didnt realize it until this moment, but Dan Heng is a weak, weak man. Feeling his heart melt, he responded, "That's not what I said at all," he grasped Boothill's hair in between his fingers, playing with it. Then, he leaned closer and whispered, "I missed you too."

"Mm," Boothill let out a satisfied sigh. "What am I gonna do with a man as lovely as you, huh?" he said, hugging him tighter. "Saying such sweet words to me, baby, are ya tryin' to kill me?"

Dan Heng snorted. "Are you trying to flirt with me?"

"Depends," Boothill let out a mischievous grin and took down all of Dan Heng's defenses with it. "Is it workin'?"

With a sigh, Dan Heng knocked his forehead against Boothill, a twinkle in his eye. "You've had me, darling," he stressed the word, earning a chuckle from the man. "My heart's belonged to you for a while," He smiled.

And with a familiar, practiced motion, he leaned down and pressed his lips against Boothill's.

[angeru-hatake]

Yup, finally done with the first story for this couple. Hope you all like it! Please leave me your thoughts or opinions about it or about SCJW in general~

[gomzdrawfr]

Gotta stop crying over pet videos

[yingren]

aventurine has connected the dots. ren cannot foil his ceaseless gift-giving if he doesn’t even know he’s been gifted til it’s too late. he waits until their time spent together comes to an end one day before he distracts: “have i cleared much of my debt?” he asks, and hopes the answer is ‘no’. a deft hand slips a finely-crafted watch into ren’s pocket, wrapped in a hand-written note. he did promise he’d write, after all, and the note contains a handful of playful complaints about ren’s refusal to accept his money. assured of his victory, he turns smugly to depart.

“ few hours off the debt, sure. though i should really take one off from the time it looked like you were falling asleep behind those shades. ” sending aventurine off with a jest feels easier than actually saying goodbye. ren, as is clear, has never been good at goodbyes — especially the kind that linger in the doorway, those that seem almost unnatural in their heaviness. solitude isn’t foreign to him. in fact, he often prefers it over anything else. but the overwhelming stillness that fills the room once his company leaves is something he’ll never quite grow accustomed to. it isn’t just aventurine. the same happens after spending extended time with kafka or any of the other hunters. the silence hangs in the air, almost oppressive for a moment, before it gradually settles into something more familiar. ren knows it will feel comforting again soon, but in those fleeting moments, it always feels haunting.

with his feet propped up on the round coffee table, ren stares at the blank, lifeless screen of the tv, a thin layer of dust settled on top of it. he invites the silence to envelop him, letting it fill the space. the worn walls of the safehouse now hold more than just old paintings and trinkets from its past, they carry the weight of conversations and the lingering presence of aventurine. there’s something warm about it, a trace that ren can’t help but be drawn to, even if he refuses to acknowledge it outright.

from the floor, infra decides to join him, gracefully stepping over the hunter’s legs as ren remains half-laying on the old couch. at least this one doesn’t have springs poking into his back. the feline doesn’t do much, though ren remembers how, when aventurine was still around, infra seemed more interested in him than in ren, which wasn’t surprising in the least. to call aventurine charming wouldn’t be untrue, but it feels like a hollow description — shallow, almost. in ren's opinion, aventurine is charming when he stumbles. though it is a rarity. when he takes an extra moment to think through his next words, when he isn’t showcasing the effortless persona he’s carefully crafted. ren has seen it before — once, maybe twice — or at least, glimpses of it. it’s not always in what aventurine says, but in the way he moves, or how he carefully reclines when things start to get too personal. to be honest, ren is thinking mostly of the time aventurine appeared at his door, a man near death yet somehow still able to find humor in his predicament. his thoughts are interrupted when infra steps carelessly over his pocket, and ren feels the presence of something else there — something he knows he didn’t place himself.

yingxing was the one who truly enjoyed crafting. more accurately, he couldn’t keep his hands off anything that caught his interest — anything that could be taken apart or fixed, especially if it was broken. ren isn’t all that different though he can never craft another weapon again. after all, he will never be able to craft a lifelike mechanical lion from scrap metal and discarded ingenium parts. his former self, apparently, could — at least, if you believe the stories about his legacy. 

still, it doesn’t take ren more than a single night to fully disassemble the gifted watch. the note that came with it has been read over and over before he finally folded it in half and tucked it into his wallet. the watch itself now sits on the kitchen counter, hours after he found it in his pocket, completely taken apart. each tiny piece is laid out on individual napkins, alongside barely legible notes he jotted down in the heat of the moment. he’s not sure yet what he’s doing with it, or if he’s even doing anything at all. but for now, it’s enough work to occupy his otherwise restless and idle hands.

[ 📱 16 : 02 ] img attached. [ 📱 16 : 02 ] i think i’ve lost one of the screws [ 📱 16 : 04 ] it was just for the bridge though [ 📱 16 : 04 ] and just one out of three [ 📱 16 : 20 ] you’ll be happy to hear that the cock is fine [ 📱 16 : 20 ] and you only need to screw it once to make sure [ 📱 16 : 22 ] i'll show you [ 📱 16 : 22 ] :)

[loosesodamarble]

Hello soda, I love your blog. I'm a huge Nacht fan and I want to write a Nacht x reader/oc (haven't decided) fanfic . I'm too shy to post it but I want to write it for myself. Can you give me tips to write fanfic especially about Nacht.

🖤 Anon! The answers you seek are finally here!

It's very exciting that you're writing some self-indulgence! It's one thing to make requests for what you want to see but taking the writing into your own hands is something else entirely! Make the most of it!

(This post ended up being longer than expected so pardon for the rest of it being under a cut.)

First off, reader insert or oc, or heck you could even do a full self insert. Any way you go about it, do what gives you the most fulfillment! You said that you aren't gonna post it but even if you did, your first and most important audience is yourself, so cater to what you want.

Second, when it generally comes to writing fanfic, play to your preferences. Do you enjoy banter or heartfelt dialogue? Then you can easily write scenes that focus more on characters speaking with little sprinkles of scenery and action written in. Or if you prefer prose and detailing the finer details of a moment, feel free to write a fic where you go five paragraphs without character speaking.

(For me, I like fic that's a little introspective. Where prose isn't just about the characters' actions or surroundings but also acts as their inner monologue. And thus, I tend to write fic that's a lot of "their feelings swirled inside of them like a storm" stuff.)

And don't worry about skipping over stuff that you don't feel confident or interested in writing. For me, I can manage a bit of fight scene choreography but it's not my strong suit so I don't write fights often and I usually keep it vague and short. The less interest you have for writing a certain thing, the less you end up writing. (That's not the whole picture since burnout/writer's block can leave you wanting to write but not having the energy or mind to do it.)

Something that I try to keep in mind when writing is the question of "what is the ultimate point of the piece?" It can be anything from a simple "I want these characters to talk/fight/kiss" to a complex "I want to show how a single event is actually a chain reaction of smaller happenings and how they can have massively different effects on people's lives and personalities." For me, the answer should be less a plot summary of the piece you're writing and more your motivation for writing it.

TL;DR for those previous points: write what you like, don't write what you don't like, and know why you're writing (since that can help you stay motivated).

Now when it comes to writing Nacht specifically, I keep these character details in mind:

Nacht has self-loathing issues, making it hard for him to believe he is good.

That self-loathing is projected onto others, mostly Yami.

While he does care for others, Nacht is afraid of loving and being loved. He fears hurting those he loves (see Morgen's death).

Those are probably the most important traits of Nacht's to keep in mind when writing him, pre or post Morgen's death. Although the projection aspect of his personality more shows up afterwards.

I also tend to write Nacht repeating the same mini arc. -He looks down on himself -He resists happiness when he has a chance for it -Someone talks some sense into him -Nacht lets himself be happy

Yes, it's keeping his character kinda in the same arc over and over. But to me, Nacht is a character that I see struggling to accept that he's allowed to be happy despite his dark past. He lets himself be happy but he doesn't want to risk too much good fortune in case it blows up in his face, if you know what I mean.

I think that writing Nacht is about finding the balance between suffering and salvation. He hated and punished himself for the longest time until he finally learned to let go of his guilt. Although I personally like to keep Nacht from fully letting go of the guilt and grief. Because squeezing out angst from Nacht's character is fun. Giving Nacht love and letting him be happy is ultimately more fulfilling though.

Really, like for any character, you have to write what you want for Nacht. And for me it's that ever present sorrow in his life. For you, it could be something else entirely.

You gotta write for you, 🖤 Anon. But hopefully my advice gives you something to work with. Good luck with the Nacht fic and I hope you enjoy what you come up with~!

[abbotfan]

FUZZY PINK HANDCUFFS

jack abbot x reader (AFAB)

based on this request: "Handcuffing him to the bed while you sit on top of him, taking him insanely slow as he loses his mind 😊😊😊"

note: i blacked out when i wrote this dont ask me any questions this is my first time posting smut and i hate it but here we are

warnings: mdni, handcuffed s3x lmao, p in v, uhh idk what ppl usually put here i will probably edit more in later

"you sure about this?"

he was too kind for his own good. you wanted to absolutely ruin this man the way you had been imagining for months on end and here he was asking if you were sure. he was actually worried you had changed your mind.

you laughed, reaching into your nightstand drawer and pulling out a pair of handcuffs, "are you?"

he watched the pieces of metal with pink fuzz around the outside dangle from your index finger.

your heart jumped at the way he looked back at you— lust filled his hazel gaze. you loved every second of it... but that wasn't enough.

"i need a verbal conf-"

he pulled you against his body, a hand holding your waist to keep you pressed against his crotch. he was rock hard already, it was enough to make you smile.

"yes, i'm sure."

"good, because i am too. now strip."

-

jack was putty in your hands and you both knew it. he was straining against the handcuffs keeping him cuffed to the bed every time you touched him.

you were taking things slow, savoring every second you had him like this; it was potent. you had the object of all your desires practically dying just to touch you.

"sweetheart, please."

"please, what?"

"let me touch you."

you smiled. he was begging and you were smiling.

"i'm not above begging," he added, patience running thin, "please."

you dragged a hand over the taught muscles of his stomach, watching them jump under his skin, "you know the safe word, jack. if you want out, just say it."

and oh, wasn't that an interesting expression. jack abbot, rugged veteran with more demons than you could count, pained by something so simple. he could get out of those handcuffs in seconds if he just said the word, but he refused.

you fucking loved it... how could you not?

you pulled down your red lace panties and sat on his sturdy thighs. you couldn't miss the way he groaned as you grazed his dick, giving you another head rush. he leaned up to kiss you hungrily, his mouth almost bruising your soft lips. you almost caved and un-cuffed him yourself just so you could feel his needy hands on your body.

you pulled away, your forehead resting against his, "color?"

"green."

he stared at you with a determined look that told you he had meant what he said.

"good, because i wanna ride you... is that okay?"

"jesus, yes, yeah that's- that's great."

God, he could be such a dork.

you wasted no time putting the condom on his already leaking cock— as much as you hated to admit it, you were starting to get impatient too.

you lined yourself up and started sinking down onto his length when he first whimpered.

"fuck, you feel so good, sweetheart."

your head fell on his shoulder as he bottomed out, "shit, jack."

you could feel him sucking on the skin at your shoulder as he left a hickey.

when you finally started moving, you took it slow; your hips slowly ground against his so you could memorize how he felt.

"sweetheart, please."

"so needy," you hummed, gasping when he bucked up, "and impatient."

jack was putting his mouth on any skin he could reach, tugging against the handcuffs to leave little kisses everywhere.

you started riding him properly now, keeping a slow pace as his breathing got more and more ragged.

"you're doing great for me, jack," you mused with a particularly slow grind, making him let out another pained whine.

your hips started rolling at a much faster pace, now chasing your own pleasure, and he took that opportunity to start bucking into you too.

"i'm close, fuck."

"yeah? me too, sweetheart."

you rolled your hips in the exact way that made him go breathless just a few more times and he came with a string of expletives flying out of his mouth. you continued riding him until you came too, your whole body feeling the release at once.

you were out of it, still a bit woozy from your orgasm when you hear him say it.

"tapestry."

you grab the key from the nightstand and rush to unlock the cuffs, "you okay? fuck, i'm sorry."

he stared at you with intense sincerity, "you did nothing wrong, why are you apologizing?"

"you said the safe word...?"

he smiled, rolling out his arms, "i wanted to help you clean up."

"oh."

jack went to the connected bathroom and came back with a wet hand towel and lotion. you massaged him with the lotion while he clean off your body with the damp towel. it was comfortable, pleasant, and incredibly easy.

when it was all said and done, he saved you a spot next to him on the bed. you curled up next to him and started drifting into sleep.

"next time, you're getting cuffed," he murmured.

[m1stm3]

now playing…

from the start by laufey

↺ |◁ II ▷| ♡

teen! satoru x reader

wrote this on a whim teehee!!! i hope yall like it >:3

cw’s!!: fluffff!!!, puppy love, oblivious teens, just all cutesy feelings :3

wc: 584 (yayyy!!)

“i dunno, satoru… you don’t think this is a bit… much?”

your words are soft compared to the blood rushing in satorus ears, almost muffled as if you were speaking underwater.

“wh-what do you mean?”

his words leave him in a barely there squeak, his shoulders drawn up tense like he was about to flinch at his own words. he didn’t even have the time to act collected.

“i just- you dont think this is a little mean? anyone else would be heartbroken if you were to do this to them…” your shoulders slump slightly while you speak, your eyes still fixed to the pretty letter you held between your fingers.

it was so cliche you could’ve gagged. a note passed in class, a set meeting spot after school, and a blush pink envelope sealed with a little red heart (don’t forget the several digimon stickers that adorned both the envelope and the contents inside). you felt like a protagonist in a romance anime that you would’ve squealed over in the late hours of the night.

“mean?” he would’ve been confused if his mind wasn’t going a thousand miles an hour, but right now he was only questioning himself. he can admit, he kinda blacked out a little while writing out the sweet note, but even suguru was surprised with how genuine it sounded! not to mention that he read over it at least ten times before finally committing to sealing it! and the courage it took to ask you to meet with him-

“it’s just… this is really far even for you. i know you and suguru like to tease me sometimes and it’s usually funny but-“

oh.

you thought it was a joke.

“wh- NO!” if you were a meaner person you would’ve teased him about how bad his voice cracked, but you only looked up at him with wide eyes and a look of bewilderment.

“‘no’?”

“no. nonononononono-“ he’s shaking his head so adamantly he honestly might give himself whiplash (it almost looks like you told him he had a bug in his hair or something) and you only notice the fierce redness on his cheeks when he stops with his jerky movements.

“it’s not a joke i promise- i really meant everything i wrote in the letter.” his words are frenzied, like he was expecting you to walk away if he didn’t explain quickly enough.

you pause for a few beats.

“ah.” nice going.

it only takes a few seconds of silence for him to start rambling again.

“shoko was pushing me to finally say something because she was getting sick of me talking about you all the time and i still wasn’t even gonna do it when she said that but then suguru said he was gonna set you up with nanami if i didn’t say anything so-“

and god he would’ve thought the soft press of your lips against his cheek was completely his imagination if he didn’t watch you stumble over your own feet slightly while pulling away.

you’re quick to recover and fleeing the scene as soon as you get the chance with a call of “text me later, okay?” over your shoulder. he doesn’t even know if you hear his small squeak of confirmation, but that doesn’t matter because you definitely hear the way the 6’2 teen squeals to himself when he thinks you’re out of earshot.

[communistkenobi]

Would you be willing to dunk on speak more on mainstream feminist theory you're reading? And/or share some of the non-juvenile feminist theory you've read?

(Note: I will try to link to open access versions of articles as much as possible, but some of them are paywalled. if the links dont work just type the titles into google and add pdf at the end, i found them all that way)

If there’s any one singular issue with mainstream feminist thought that can be generalized to "The Problem With Mainstream Feminism" (and by mainstream I mean white, cishet, bourgeois feminism, the “canonical feminism” that is taught in western universities) it’s that gender is treated as something that can stand by itself, by which I mean, “gender” is a complete unit of analysis from which to understand social inequality. You can “add” race, class, ability, national origin, religion, sexuality, and so on to your analysis (each likewise treated as full, discrete categories of the social world), but that gender itself provides a comprehensive (or at the very least “good enough”) view of a given social problem. (RW Connell, who wrote the canonical text Masculinities (1995) and is one of the feminist scholars who coined/popularized the term hegemonic masculinity, is a fantastic example of this.)

Black feminists have for many decades pointed out how fucking ridiculous this is, especially vis a vis race and class, because Black women do not experience misogyny and racism as two discrete forms of oppression in their lives, they are inextricably linked. The separation of gender and race is not merely an analytical error on the part of white feminists - it is a continuation of the long white supremacist tradition of bounding gender in exclusively white terms. Patricia Hill Collins in Black Feminist Thought (2000) engages with this via a speech by Sojourner Truth, the most famous line from her speech being “ain’t I a woman?” as she describes all the aspects of womanhood she experiences but is still denied the position of woman by white women because she is Black. Lugones in Coloniality of Gender (2008) likewise brings up the example of segregationist movements in the USAmerican South, where towns would put up banners saying things like “Protect Southern Women” as a rationale for segregation, making it very clear who they viewed as women. Sylvia Wynter in 1492: A New World View likewise points out that colonized women and men were treated like cattle by Spanish colonizers in South America, often counted in population measures as "heads of Indian men and women," as in heads of cattle. They were treated as colonial resources, not as gendered subjects capable of rational thought.

To treat the category of “woman” as something that stands by itself is a white supremacist understanding of gender, because “woman” always just means white woman - the fact that white is left implied is part of white supremacy, because who is granted subjecthood, the ability to be seen as human and therefore a gendered subject, is a function of race (see Quijano, 2000). Crenshaw (1991) operationalizes this through the term intersectionality, pointing out that law treats gender and race as separate social sites of discrimination, and the practical effect of this is that Black women have limited/no legal recourse when they face discrimination because they experience it as misogynoir, as the multiplicative effect of their position as Black women, not as sexism on the one hand and racism on the other.

Transfeminist theory has further problematized the category of gender by pointing out that "woman" always just means cis woman (and more often than not also means heterosexual woman). The most famous of these critiques comes from Judith Butler - I’m less familiar with their work, but there is a great example in the beginning of Bodies That Matter (1993) where they demonstrate that personhood itself is a gendered social position. They ask (and I’m paraphrasing) “when does a fetus stop becoming an ‘it’? When its gender is declared by a doctor or nurse via ultrasound.” Sex assignment is not merely a social practice of patriarchal division, it is the medium through which the human subject is created (and recall that gender is fundamentally racialized & race is fundamentally gendered, which I will come back to).

And the work of transfeminists demonstrate this by showing transgender people are treated as non-human, non-citizens. Heath Fogg Davis in Sex-Classification Policies as Transgender Discrimination (2014) recounts the story of an African American transgender woman in Pennsylvania being denied use of public transit, because her bus pass had an F gender marker on it (as all buss passes in the state required gender markers until 2013) and the bus driver refused her service because she “didn’t look like a woman.” She was denied access to transit again when she got her marker changed to M, as she “didn���t look like a man.” Transgender people are thus denied access to basic public services by being constructed as “administratively impossible” - gender markers are a component of citizenship because they appear on all citizenship documents, as well as a variety of civil and public documents (such as a bus pass). Gender markers, even when changed by trans people (an arduous, difficult process in most places on earth, if not outright impossible), are seen as fraudulent & used as a basis to deny us citizenship rights. Toby Beauchamp in Going Stealth: Transgender Politics & US Surveillance Practices (2019) talks about anti-trans bathroom bills as a form of citizenship denial to trans people - anti-trans bathroom laws are impossible to actually enforce because nobody is doing genital inspections of everyone who enters bathrooms (and genitals are not proof of transgenderism!), but that’s actually not the point. The point of these bills is to embolden members of the cissexual public to deputize themselves on behalf of the state to police access to public space, directing their cissexual gaze towards anyone who “looks transgender.” Beauchamp points out that transvestigators don’t need to be accurate most of the time, because again, the point is terrorizing transgender people out of public life. He connects this with racial segregation, and argues that we shouldn’t view gender segregation as “a new form of” racial segregation (this is a duplication of white supremacist feminism) but a continuation of it, because public access is a citizenship right and citizenship is fundamentally racially mediated (see Glenn's (2002) Unequal Freedom)

Susan Stryker & Nikki Sullivan further drives this home in The King’s Member, The Queen’s Body, where they explain the history of the crime of mayhem. Originating in feudal Europe (I don’t remember off the dome the exact time/place so forgive the generalization lol), mayhem is the crime of self-mutilation for the purposes of avoiding military conscription, but what is interesting is that its not actually legally treated as “self” mutilation, but a mutilation of the state and its capacity to exercise its own power. They link the concept of mayhem to the contemporary hysteria around transgender people receiving bottom surgery - we are not in fact self mutilating, we are mutilating the state’s ability to reproduce its own population by permanently destroying (in the eyes of the cissexual public) our capacity to form the foundational social unit of the nuclear family. Our bodies are not our own, they are a component of the state. Situating this in the context of reproductive rights makes this even clearer. Abortion access is not actually about the individual, it is the state mediating its own reproductive capacity via the restriction of abortion (premised on the cissexual logic of binary reproductive capacity systematized through sex assignment). Returning to Hill Collins, she points out that in the US, white cis women are restricted access to abortion while Black and Indigenous cis women are routinely forcibly sterilized, their children aborted, and pumped with birth control by the state. This is not a contradiction or point of “hypocrisy” on the part of conservatives, this is a fully comprehensive plan of white supremacist population management.

To treat "gender" as its own category, as much of mainstream feminism does (see Acker (1990) and England (2010) for two hilarious examples of this, both widely cited feminists), is to forward a white supremacist notion of gender. That white supremacy is fundamentally cissexual and heterosexual is not an accident - it is a central organizing logic that allows for the systematization of the fear of declining white birthrates (the conspiracy of "white genocide" is illegible without the base belief that there are two kinds of bodies, one that gets pregnant and one that does the impregnating, and that these two types of bodies are universal sources of evidence of the superiority of men over women - and im using those terms in the most loaded possible sense).

I realize that most of these readings are US centric, which is an unfortunate limitation of my own education. I have been really trying to branch into literature outside the Global North, but doctoral degree constraints + time constraints + my own research requires continual engagement with it. I also realize that most of the transfeminist readings I've cited are by white scholars! This is a continual systemic problem in academic literature and I'm not exempt from it, even as I sit here and lay out the problem. Which is to say, this is nowhere near the final word on this subject, and having to devote so much time to reading mainstream feminist theory as someone who is in western academia is part of my own limited education + perspective on this topic

[angel-sweets666]

how t some of the bakusquad boys initiate 👀

Bakugo katsuki x reader, eijiro kirishima x reader, Denki kaminari x reader

warnings: mentions of sex, more sexual stuff. No real sex tho Dw reader is mentioned to have a pussy but that’s the one gender mention

sorry I didn’t write sero I don’t have a good idea on his character

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT.

ALL AGED UP TO 18 AND IN 3RD YEAR

Katsuki bakugo

Bakugo either starts off subtly or straight up, no In between. He’s especially rough when he’s had a bad day

you roll over onto your side, typing to Mina about drama from class 3B (1B)When bakugo bursts open the door and slams it closed, practically making the door frame shake. “Had a bad day?” You asked him, still distracted on your phone and tapping away. Bakugo lets out a groan “I FUCKING-“ “inside voice.” You interrupted “I had a fucking ass day.” He still yelled as he threw his hero shirt and mask onto the floor, stomping over to you in bed. You peered over your shoulder and looked him up and down, noticing how dirty his boots are “bakugo take your boots off! Your filthy!!” You sat up and looked him up and down again. the blonde rolls his eyes and takes off his black and orange dirt stained boots, chucking them to the door. “There, better?” He grumbled, climbing into bed with you. “Yeah.. that’s better” you said as you rolled onto your back, bakugo sat up and pulled your legs apart and laying down on your chest. You could feel his length begin to grow harder and harder underneath you, he sat up and slowly began to rock his hips against yours. “shit- can we fuck?”

eijiro kirishima

sweet boy asks, and he’s so polite about it too! He wants to be a chivalrous hero and a great boyfriend in general to you. So of course he asks so politely:(((

you were washing some dishes in the common room, you and tsu had some noodles for lunch and you were just cleaning up the bowls from the food. Humming and dancing to yourself, kirishima watched from afar. You looked so pretty when you were happy like that, how could he not wanna fuck you? As you put away the last fork you suddenly felt a pair of very strong and solid arms wrap around you “hi baby!” You giggle and kiss his cheek, kirishima gives you a toothy grin and kisses your neck gently “hey sweetheart.. you look so pretty today” he tells you as he rubs your size “you wouldn’t possibly be in the mood would you?” He asks with his cheeks turning red “are you asking for sex?” You grinned to him and he nodded “yeah alright baby cmon”

Denki kaminari

My bro begs, like HE BEGS And not in a cute little submissive way I’m talking like really annoying “PLEASEEPLEASEPLEASEPLEASEPLEASEPLEASE” while on his knees shuffling around to follow you

You were busy trying to clean out your dorm, preparing for graduation in the next few weeks. The task was already challenging, but it became nearly impossible with an electric blonde following you around on his knees, begging for you to let him fuck you

“PLEASEPLEASEPLEASEPLEASE, ILL BE QUICK!”

You rolled your eyes, trying to ignore him as you sorted through a pile of textbooks. "Denki, I really need to get this done. Graduation is right around the corner, and I can't leave my dorm looking like a disaster zone." He shuffled closer, still on his knees, and clasped his hands together dramatically. "But I need you more than your dorm does!” You turned to look at him, raising an eyebrow “oh really?” You leaned your weight to one hip, Denki rolled his eyes then stood up, mild carpet burn on his knees from following you around “BRO YES? YOUVE GOT LIKE, A 10/10 PU-” “ DONT DAY THAT SO LOUD!” You covered his mouth then sighed “you know what… I could use the break” denkis face lit up “so… I can fuck you?” He asked with his face practically glowing as you nodded

I said I’d tag u next time I wrote for Denki kaminari so here! I hope it was as accurate as last time @b0o0o

[delulujuls]

tinder buddies | ln4

hi! i have no idea how to comment on that. i've got inspiration from the rumors that are now going on twitter and tiktok about lando and his activity in sm and i thought man, i need to write something in this narrative because sexting with him??? scuse me??? but of course all of this is fiction and and i dont have any statement on the rumors about lan, mostly because all of these are rumors and not facts. anyway, pls leave his poor papaya ass alone and enjoy this instead!

summary: when you met your tinder buddy irl and realize how indeed world is small

warnings: masturbation on cam (both male and female), bit of swearing, in general alott of sexual tention

pairing: fem!journalist!reader x lando norris

Y/N thought that she was good at what she was doing. She thought that despite her young age she fit in the world of motorsport really well. Sometimes it even crossed her mind that she was no different from her older colleagues, what's more, sometimes she even thought that she was better than them. However, she admitted this only to herself with complete modesty and behind tightly closed doors.

Apart from the fact that Y/N was a really good journalist whose career was growing at a surprising pace, at the end of the day she was just a twenty-two-year-old girl who, like many other twenty-two-year-old girls in the world, had her smaller and bigger sins.

Y/N breathed heavily as she entered her hotel room. She set her suitcase and bag aside, taking off her shoes and plopping down on the bed. It was well after midnight, her flight was delayed by several hours and she was simply exhausted by the passing day. Even though she was excited about the events that awaited her in a few hours, right now she was just tired. However, she knew perfectly well what would help her relax before going to sleep. Not so much what, but who.

The girl unlocked her phone and easily found the Instagram icon, clicking on it and going straight to the messages. She entered the first conversation and was about to write some prosaic message, but she didn't have time to type out half of the sentence when a new message appeared in the chat.

"u up?"

Y/N smiled to herself. It looked like she could count on a pleasant end to the day.

"I was just about to ask you the same thing"

The reply message appeared a moment later.

"i was waiting for you to be available. i thought the evening would be wasted"

"And yet you see, surprise"

The person on the other end smiled and untied the drawstring on his sweatpants. He quickly wrote his answer with one hand.

"wanna call?"

"I think you know the answer"

She smiled and reached for the switch and turned off the light, pressing the camera icon with her other hand.

Y/N and the boy she had been messaging with for a little over a month knew next to nothing about each other. She had a private account and a few photos, he had a black icon and an empty profile. He only knew her name, she only the first letter of his. They met on Tinder, their profiles there looked quite similar. She has a few photos, more of the body than the face, he has the same, mostly in black and white. They had never seen each other's faces, but they knew each other's bodies inside and out.

Y/N placed her phone on the table and leaned it against the lamp, which she turned on a moment later. The light from it was dim, but it illuminated her body enough. The angle her phone was at only showed her from the neck down. She was perfect at maintaining her privacy.

"New background?"

He asked, seeing that the surroundings behind her were different from those he had seen before. She pulled her sweatshirt over her head, leaving her in only a bra and a thin t-shirt.

"I'm away from home"

"Work?"

"Too many questions"

There was quiet laughter on the other side. He liked her temperament. He liked her curves even more and the sounds she made when, at his command, she pushed her fingers inside her and brought herself to orgasm. Yes, he liked that too.

"Yeah, you're right. Strip."

Y/N pulled the t-shirt over her head and her interlocutor saw a red, lace bra that he never seen on her before. He smiled and ran his hand over his crotch. He felt a chill run through him.

"You look good, baby. Red suits you"

She laughed and pushed her hair behind her shoulders.

"Is this the first time you gonna tell me to keep my bra on?"

"For now, yes. I'd love to look at it for a while" he squeezed his cock and began to lightly massage it through the fabric. "You know what to do, dont'cha?"

Y/N bit her lip and lifted her hands, placing them gently on her shoulders. She slowly moved them down her body and when she found her breasts, she slowly started massaging them in circular motions. She closed her eyes and tilted her head slightly, hearing the sigh that came from her phone. He watched her carefully, following her every move.

"Take it off," he said after a while, "It's pretty, but I think I prefer you without it."

She quickly took off her bra and threw it aside. He smiled at the sight of her breasts. Y/N returned to them, continuing their massage. As she lightly pinched her nipples, she moaned softly. His cock vibrated at the sound that came from his headphones. He smiled.

"Does it feel good, baby?"

"Mhm, yeah" she answered, looking again at her phone "But you're playing unfair again. I have to see you too."

He chuckled and shook his head.

"You don't let me enjoy you"

He replied and put down the phone, quickly pulling his shirt over his head. He fell back on the pillows and turned on the light on his phone. Y/N smiled at the sight of the familiar, slightly tanned and toned torso. Her interlocutor didn't see it, but she smiled even more when he tightened his hand on his cock, which was now clearly visible on the gray material of his trousers.

"Take off the rest of your clothes and lie down"

He ordered. Y/N obediently lay down, taking off her pants and underwear. When the rustle of fabric could be heard on the other side, he easily freed himself from his pants and tight, slightly damp boxers. He spat on his hand and spread the saliva over his cock, feeling it tighten under his touch. Fuck, what he would give if instead of his hand it was this tiny hand that disappeared between the pair of thighs he saw on the screen of his phone.

The girl complied with his command and he saw her middle finger slowly sinking inside her, only to come out after a while covered with her juices.

"Fuck," he muttered under his breath, "You're so wet, baby."

“I wish you were here and licked me clean.”

Y/N said, rubbing her clit. She felt that she wouldn't need much to reach orgasm.

Her interlocutor smiled under his breath, but she wasn't able to see it.

"I'm afraid that i would make you even more wet."

"Someone has quite an ego here"

"I know my capabilities, baby."

She snorted under her breath and made herself more comfortable, inserting her finger into herself again. First one, quite slowly, and soon she added another one. A long moan filled the hotel room as she began to move them, imagining that it was not her but him who was fucking her. And not with his fingers, but with his wet, hard cock.

"Yeah, just like that, baby. Keep going."

His eyes carefully followed the screen and the activities taking place on it. His hand moved smoothly over his cock, his lips were slightly opened. As he was stroking himself, the glass of his watch on his wrist reflected the light from the phone. He wore it every time they cam together. Y/N didn't know anything about watches, so she didn't know what brand it was or whether it was expensive. They never talked about it, honestly, they basically never had a normal chat. However, he once asked her about the tattoo on her forearm, just below the inner bend of her elbow. He noticed it after the first time they met on camera. When it was all over and they were about to hang up and return to their real lives, he asked about it.

"What does 33 mean?"

He asked when the girl started getting dressed.

"What?"

"Tattoo on your arm"

The girl looked at her forearm and only then did she understand what he was asking about.

"I can't tell you because you'll make fun of me"

Hearing this, he smiled. Not because there was probably some stupid story behind it, but because the girl was concerned about not looking bad in front of him. Even though they absolutely didn't know each other.

"I barely know your name, I don't know why I would make fun of you."

Y/N was silent for a moment, glancing at her tattoo and lightly stroking it with her thumb.

"Do you know Formula 1?"

He smiled and nodded. His reaction, however, was beyond her reach.

"I know a thing or two"

"My favorite driver drives with this number. Well, actually he did, now his number is 1. But for me it will still be associated with 33"

The girl explained. She felt a bit embarrassed to expose herself to him, especially with something like this. However, he did not laugh at her or comment on her confession in any negative way.

"I have a friend who is also involved in motorsport and has the same number. Actually, not anymore, because he also had to change it. But for me it will also be associated only with 33"

Y/N smiled at his words. Sometimes she wondered if they could become friends and get to know each other a little better. But then she decided to come down to earth and remind herself that she had no time for relationships or friendships. Now the most important thing for her is work and career, everything else can wait. After all, no one will satisfy her as much as herself. Right?

"Fuck, I could fill you so good, baby," he moaned, gasping for breath. He felt that he was only seconds away from orgasm "You have no idea how much pleasure I would give you."

The girl's lips were opened, her eyelids were shut tightly. She massaged her clit with her left hand and moved the fingers of her right hand inside her in quick, uneven movements.

"I'm about to- I…oh my god-"

“Yes, baby, thats it" he gasped, speeding up "Cum for me.”

She felt a wave of pleasure wash over her. The moment her back arched, she heard a long "fuck" coming from her phone. He came shortly after her, staining his toned abs with his sperm. He squeezed his eyes shut and tilted his head back, trying to calm his breathing. There was silence on both sides for a moment, neither of them moving an inch.

After some time, Y/N sat on the bed and reached for a tissue, wiping her hands on it.

"I have to go now. I have a lot of work waiting for me tomorrow."

"Me too. I wanted to let you know that we may not be able to have a call tomorrow."

He answered, also wiping himself.

“It's okay, no big deal,” Y/N replied and took one last look at the muscled, tanned torso visible on her phone screen, “Good night. And good luck with your chores tomorrow.”

“Good night, baby. You too.”

She smiled and reached for her phone, ending the call. Exhausted from the previous day and the evening cam session, she just buried herself in the blanket and shortly after fell asleep. The next day, when her alarm went off, she was full of energy despite several hours of sleep. She couldn't wait for saturday's qualifying and all she was thinking about as she was getting ready was whether she would be able to get good material.

As she put on her red bra, she smiled involuntarily as she remembered last night. She wondered if he had already gotten lost in the whirlwind of his today's duties. Y/N quickly got dressed, gathered her things and, putting her pass around her neck, left the hotel. When she got to the track and was in the paddock, she couldn't think about anything else. Her only thoughts revolved around what was going to happen on the track in a few dozen minutes. However, for a split second she wondered what her tinder buddy actually knew about Formula 1. Maybe they could have something to talk about? Maybe she could even take him to some grand prix?

Her thoughts disappeared when she noticed Lando Norris hanging around the McLaren garage. The girl asked the cameraman to prepare the equipment and she would ask the Brit if he would be willing to have a short conversation. She squeezed the microphone in her hand and without thinking, she approached him, introducing herself and asking if it was possible to record a short conversation.

Hearing her name, his heart did a flip. He knew that name very well.

"Sure, no problem"

He replied with a smile, obviously not revealing himself, and ran his hand through his hair. The glass of the watch strapped to his wrist gleamed in the sunlight. Y/N had seen this watch before. Many times.

The girl smiled back and, hearing his agreement, gave a thumbs up to the cameraman. When she raised her hand, the sleeve of her shirt rolled up, and Lando's eyes involuntarily caught the tattoo on her forearm. A slight 33, just below the bend in the elbow.

He felt a sudden wave of heat wash over him. It's a coincidence, right? It must be.

"How's your mood before qualifying?"

Y/N asked, putting the microphone down and straightening her shirt. As she was arranging her collar, Lando's eyes caught a glimpse of her red bra strap. He smiled to himself and looked down. He wondered how many accidents and coincidences had come together in the universe and resulted in this situation.

"What? Something wrong?"

The girl asked, not knowing what made him react like that.

He shook his head and after a moment looked up again. He looked at the girl carefully. However, she was completely lost and looked at him questioningly.

"Sorry, as you can probably see, my mood is great. I'm positive about today's qualifying."

Y/N tentatively gripped her microphone. When the cameraman approached them, they started recording the footage and she had no time to analyze Lando's strange behavior. In fact, it was possible that this was their first and last conversation ever, so why should she care about it. When they managed to record a short material, Y/N thanked him and wished him successful qualifications. After that everyone went their separate ways.

Immediately after entering the garage, Lando found his phone buried in a pile of his things. He quickly entered his latest conversation on Instagram and, without thinking, decided to send the girl a message. Worst case scenario, he'll just make a fool of himself, which isn't a big deal since they don't know each other at all. At best, he would spend tonight as he had long dreamed of.

"ure even prettier than i thought, baby."

Y/N felt a vibration in her pants pocket and without thinking, she unlocked her phone. She was surprised to see a notification coming from Instagram, and she was even more surprised when she noticed who sent her the message. After reading it, she felt a cold sweat break out on her. However, she decided to think and act soberly.

"How do you know what I look like?"

"turn around"

Lando replied quickly and leaned against the threshold of his garage. The girl clutched her phone in her hands and obeyed his command with her heart beating wildly. Lando smiled at her, holding his still unlocked phone. Y/N felt a lack of saliva in her mouth. It's impossible, it's not really happening.

"Are you sure we're looking at the same person?"

She replied, having difficulty pressing the appropriate keys with her fingers. He was amused by her reaction. This whole situation didn't make sense to him. It was crazy.

"im looking at a pretty neat journalist with a mad bunda who has a tattoo with my friend's racing number. and u?"

Y/N blushed. Fuck. It's him.

"I see that your jumpsuit is a little tight in some places."

Lando snorted under his breath. The girl wasn't lying. The whole situation made quite an impression on him.

Y/N bit her lip and looked up. She'd be lying if she said it wasn't arousing.

"u know exactly why its tight"

"I guess I have to find out in real life. The camera likes to lie."

When she sent the message, she looked up again and their eyes locked. The Brit winked at her and quickly replied, turning on his heel and disappearing into the depths of the garage.

"my driver's room in five minutes. ill be happy to dispel your doubts"

[ghoulishhx]

Hey queen!! ive just re-read heart eyes for the billionth time and was wondering if we could get a part two? (frank saying “show me” has genuinely been the only thing on my mind for the last few days)

anyways your writing is so so good and i hope you have a wonderful day/ night :))

you're not alone in that omg, i've been thinking about the "show me" since i wrote it lmao thank you for requesting a pt 2!!

18+ MDNI !!

part 1 - heart eyes

My Masterlist!

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Pairing: Frank Castle x Fem!Reader

Content Warning: SMUTTT, pillow humping, voyeurism, mutual masturbation, praise, choking, unprotected p in v sex (dont do this irl please), dirty talk, frank talks you through it

Wordcount: 1.7k

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✦ show me

“So, ya hump ya pillow thinkin’ of me, huh?”

“I do baby, while wearing nothing but your shirt too.” you taunt, climbing up to your feet. He groans at your confession, eyes rolling to the back of his head imagining you do this. You go to walk to the bathroom to clean yourself off, but he halts your attempts by grabbing your wrist and pulling you down to his eye level. He places his hand to your face, angling you to meet his gaze.

“Show me.”

His request stuns you, his eyes transfixed on your blushing face as he pulls you down lower to him. His chest rapidly rises and falls, jaw ticks and his eyes are void of all colour, his pupils lust blown. You bite your lip and grin at your boyfriend.

“You wanna watch me get myself off, Frankie?”

“More than anythin’ sweet thing. Want ya to give me a show.” he devilishly grins, reaching behind him to grab one of his pillows.

“Want me in your shirt too?” you wink, reaching down to remove your tank top and shimmy yourself from your sleep shorts. Intent on giving him the show of his life, you slowly bend down in front of him to retrieve his previously discarded shirt. He whistles through his teeth at the view, subduing a groan he feels crawling up his neck. He can’t help but reach out, roughly kneading the fleshy dough of your ass as you wiggle your hips in front of him.

“Tryna kill me off babydoll?” he grumbles, fist full of your ass.

“Haven’t even started yet, Frank.” you can’t help but giggle, his leaking cock already hardening once more as if he didn’t just get milked dry mere minutes ago.

“Then hurry along sweet thing, ain’t got all day.” he slaps your ass, the skin immediately reddening as he lets out a hearty laugh. You yelp, feeling even more arousal flood in your panties.

“Patience Frankie, ‘m getting there.” you pull his shirt over you, the material hugging your curves just right, your bare ass wearing only thin, lacy black panties peeking from the hem. You reach down and place a kiss on Frank’s forehead, climbing past him and situating yourself on his pillow. 

The moment you lower your soaked core makes contact with the plush of his pillow, you bite your lip. 

“Thas it doll, make y’self feel good f’me yeah?” he climbs to the back of the bed, leaning against the headboard getting comfy. You shoot him a smile as you begin to rock your hips back and forth. The whimpers you let out send more blood right to his cock, impossibly hardening his member. 

The sensation of your slick cunt rubbing so deliciously against the fabric, your panties getting caught around your bundle of nerves, Frank’s eyes bearing into you as he begins slowly touching himself makes you more turned on than you ever have been before.

Frank hums appreciatively at the sight before him,

“Look at you baby, my needy fuckin’ girl. Attagirl honey, just like that.” his eyes don’t leave you for a second, relishing in the way you’re coming undone for him before his very eyes. 

“Mhm.. feels.. Feel s’good Frankie fuck.” your hand travels to your clothed breast, tugging and squeezing at your hardened bud.

“Say m’name again, pretty girl. You tell me who’s makin’ ya feel good hm? Who’s doin’ it for ya baby?” he asks breathily, steadily pumping his cock in front of you, while you hump his pillow desperately. 

“Y-you Frank.. All you shit only you.” you’re whining at this point, so desperate for your own release. Just watching him so attentive to every action, every thrust of your hips against the pillow, you know he’s getting just as much pleasure as you are just from watching. 

“Damn right darlin’. M’name sounds so pretty comin’ from your lips sweet girl. Ya gonna cum for me now?” he reaches forward, shoving his thumb in your opened mouth. Your eyes roll to the back of your head, making your body jerk. You’re so addicted to his touch, his taste. No matter how much you try, your orgasm isn’t coming. You place both of your hands on the pillow, steadying yourself as you hopelessly grind down harshly, taking his thumb deep down your throat.

“C-can’t Frankie.. I need.. Need you.” you lift your hands up, reaching for him. He chuckles at your attempts, maneuvering his fingers under your chin, digit still between your lips. Your heart eyes meet his,

“Aww my poor girl, can’t get off without m’help huh? Need your Frankie hmm?” he teases, enjoying how desperate you are for him, relishing in your needy whines and moans of his name.

“I do.. Please Frank. Need you to touch me.” you take his thumb as deep as you can, eliciting a gag from the depth of your throat. His cock twitches at the sensation, groaning at the feeling. He was just as needy for you as you were him, yet he wanted to keep teasing you.

“C’mon baby, you’re almost there. You can do it sweetheart.” he coos, inching closer to you, placing his lips on the sensitive skin of your neck, sucking and nibbling at the skin hoping this will aid the cause. It’s evident it does, feeling his hot mouth on your neck makes your clit throb. He takes ahold of your waist, guiding you across the pillow while he suckles on the crook of your neck, whispering praise and sweet nothings in your ear. It’s not long before his touch leads you to ecstasy, you see stars as you finally get the pleasure you’ve been chasing. You can’t help but grab the hem of his shirt you’re wearing and bunch it up above your chest, exposing your tits to him. He moans at their release.

“Attafuckingirl doll, knew ya could do it. Shit, that's it. Let it all out f’me” he whispers, pulling you into a bruising kiss. You moan into his mouth as you reach down to his throbbing cock, softly pumping him as you continue riding the pillow, extending your orgasm for as long as you could muster. Frank lets out a primal growl as he feels your touch where he needs it most, he loses all control as he pulls you off of the pillow and into his lap.

“Watchin’ ya ride my pillow made me jealous princess, wanna feel it for m’self now, ok?” he grunts as he glides your soaked core against his cock, he can’t help but moan feeling how wet you are, your juices painting him. You whine at the overstimulation of his tip touching your clit, nudging it as he gathers your slick as lube. He lies back onto the bed as you hover above him, pushing his girth inside of you. The stretch makes you wince, his thickness always shocks you whenever he first pushes inside. The pain so sinfully delicious. 

“You can take it doll, tight squeeze.. Fuck that’s it.” his head falls back against the bed as he fully sheathed himself inside of you, the head of his cock kissing your cervix. You adjust to the position, the feeling of being so full required you to take a moment before moving. 

“Fuck Frankie.. You’re so deep ohmygod-” you’re cut off as he begins thrusting slowly inside of you, his patience gone out the window. He needs you, and he needs you now. You rest your hands on his chest, stabilising yourself as you grind down on his cock, matching his movements as he bounces off of your sweet spot. You’re both moaning messes at this point, being so pent up and desperate for one another.

“So fuckin’ tight baby, like you were made f’me. Made to take my fuckin’ cock.” he groans, wrapping a hand around your neck as his pace hastens, squeezing gently on your pressure points. The feeling is dizzying, being fucked so hard the feeling of his hands around you only elevates your pleasure.

“Takin’ me so well doll, my dirty fuckin’ girl.” he slams into you, the room filled with nothing but the sounds of your shared moans and your sweaty skin slapping against each other.

“Fuck Frank ‘m so close please.. Don’t stop oh my god right there.. ohmygodohmygod fuck-” your moans are borderline pornographic as you raise his shirt over your chest once more to gain access to your nipples, about to cum for the second time tonight. Your eyes roll to the back of your head, but Frank’s voice brings you back down to earth.

‘Eyes on me baby, wanna watch you fall apart. Cum f’me doll.” he groans as your eyes meet his, feeling like he was close now himself. You walls clamp around him as you milk him dry, juices flowing out of you as you cum hard around him. The force of your orgasm sends his cock out of you, followed by a stream of squirt all over his toned stomach. He elongates the stream, teasing the head of his dick along your clit, the juices coating him fully as he plunges him back inside of you. 

He flips your body over onto your back and takes both of your wrists with one of his large calloused hands, pinning them above your head. He relentlessly slams himself inside of you, pace beginning to falter as he was on the edge.

“Fill me up Frankie.. Please. I wanna feel you.” you whine, voice soft and intoxicating. Your words push him over as he spills his hot sticky seed inside of you, painting your tender walls white. He practically whimpers as his cock twitches and empties inside of you, marking you as his.

He collapses on top of you, moving to his side as he pulls you into his embrace, rubbing comforting circles along your shoulder with his fingers. You hum in his arms, dazed and cockdrunk.

“So fuckin’ beautiful, y’know that doll?” he softly speaks as he kisses the top of your head. “All mine. All fuckin’ mine.” he squeezes you hard, you can’t help but giggle to yourself as you feel his sticky stomach on yours, evidence of your orgasm.

“All yours Frankie, only yours.”

──── ୨୧ ────

a/n: i can't stop thinking ab frank in the ddba finale. he's rotting my brain i need him

my inbox is open!

[beomfait]

let me make it better

bf!beomgyu x fem!reader

synposis: you’re having one of those bad days, barely holding it together but your sweet, thoughtful boyfriend knows exactly how to make it all better.

warnings: established relationship, comfort sex, oral (f receiving), overstimulation, post-bad-day fluff and filth, praise, soft dom!beomgyu, fluff & smut, emotional vulnerability, crying (but in a good way), minors dni.

an: this is literally not proofread at all LMAO and it’s also my first ever fic (and smut???) that i’m throwing out last minute bc i’m having a horrible day (shocker). so yeah i kinda just wrote this as comfort for me hehe but if it somehow ends up comforting you too then yay!!! 🫶 sorry if this is bad pls be nice lolol

the day sucked. 

like, sucked. 

everything that could go wrong did go wrong

you don’t even get a full step into your shared apartment before the day hits you all over again. the second the door shuts behind you, your bag drops to the floor with a thud and you lean your forehead against the wall, just… breathing. or at least trying to.

you felt heavy — like your skin doesn’t fit right. you’re all exhausted with this tight little ache behind your eyes that’s been threatening to spill over since this morning.

“baby?” beomgyu’s voice calls out from somewhere in the apartment. “that you?”

you can barely answer before he already appears in the hallway with messy hair and this cute black shirt with plaid pajama pants you bought him for christmas, his hair a mess, and his face soft with concern.

“uh oh,” he says immediately, walking over with a pout already forming “what happened? bad day?”

you don’t answer. not with words. you just step into his chest and bury your face there.

he wraps his arms around you instantly, chin resting on top of your head.

“mm,” he hums. “okay. I'm guessing you dont want to talk about it yet. wont ask any questions.”

and he means it. he doesn't ask. he doesn't press. he just holds you like he’s trying to fuse you into him, and for a few minutes, you let him, fighting back your tears.

he eventually guides you to the couch, sets you down, tucks a blanket around you, and kisses the top of your head softly.

“stay,” he whispers, brushing your hair out of your face. “gonna be right back, okay?”

you nod, barely holding back tears. you don’t know what it is, but if anyone could fix anything with nothing but patience and gentle hands, it’s beomgyu. he disappears for a second and comes back with your favorite snacks, a warm drink, and a mischievous glint in his eyes.

“now,” he says seriously, crouching down in front of you, “you have two choices: we can binge-watch that kdrama we were watching yesterday while I feed you popcorn, or… I could uh… sing you my new song?”

you sniff a laugh. “both might make me cry again.”

he grins — slow and sweet — and leans in to kiss your knee over the blanket.

“oops.. then we’ll have to pass on that then hm?”

he climbs onto the couch beside you and pulls you into his lap like you weigh nothing. His fingers running through your hair, rhythmic and slow. you can feel the tension in your chest begin to loosen, like it’s safe to breathe again.

“you know,” he says softly, resting his chin on your shoulder, “bad days don’t stand a chance when you’ve got me.”

you roll your eyes, but you cant fight back the small smile. “cocky.”

“nuh uh, confident,” he corrects, then kisses your cheek like it confirms it. “because even when the world’s full of shit, it’s okay because I have you.”

your eyes sting again — but this time it’s not from frustration. you twist in his lap to bury your face in his neck.

“I love you,” you whine mumbling into him.

he hugs you tighter. “I love you more~”

yall stay like that for a while, his hands are warm under your shirt (or well, his actually since you stole it) — stroking your sides, running up your spine, dragging all the tension out with nothing but touch.

he kisses your shoulder, then your neck, then right below your ear.

“feeling a little better angel?” he murmurs.

you nod, but something in your chest is still aching. not exactly stress anymore — something softer. needier. like all the tension is bleeding out of you and leaving you raw in the best way.

“mm,” you hum, barely audible. “just a bit..”

“oh? is your amazing boyfriend not enough for you?” he teases, but his hands are trailing lower now — stroking down your arms, squeezing your hips with just enough pressure to ground you.

you tilt your head to give him a mock pouty glare, and something in his eyes shifts. warm brown turns heavy-lidded, lips parted just a little, breath catching like he knows. like he feels it too.

“you want me to make it better?” he asks, voice quieter now, lower. more intimate. “really make it better?”

your breath hitches, nodding again — smaller this time.

that’s all it takes. beomgyu moves gently, like he’s afraid to break you. he leans in, kisses the corner of your mouth first, then your jaw, your cheekbone, your temple. reverent. worshipful. his hands slide under the blanket and settle on your bare thighs, warm and grounding.

you shift in his lap, feeling the unmistakable press of him beneath you — hard already, straining against his thin pajamas. he groans quietly against your skin, like the weight of your body on his is driving him crazy.

he cups your face, kisses you hard and deep, tongue sliding against yours with this slow, needy rhythm that makes you melt into him completely.

when he pulls back, he’s flushed. breathless. eyes dark.

“lay back for me,” he murmurs. “let me make it better.”

and you do. he helps you shift onto the couch cushions, kissing his way down, lifting your shirt slowly, like he’s unwrapping a gift. his mouth lingers on every inch of skin he uncovers — soft stomach, the sensitive dip beneath your ribs, the swell of your chest.

he takes his time.

he always takes his time.

by the time his hand slides between your thighs, you're already soaked. he hums in approval, mouth still on your skin, fingers teasing over your underwear.

“fuck, baby…” he breathes. “this wet all for me?”

“mmhm,” you hum, hips twitching under his touch.

his mouth is on you before you can even say anything else — hot and perfect, licking up your folds with long, languid strokes that make your back arch.

his tongue is slow. practiced. worshipful. like he’s been craving you all day.

he moans into you, tongue flicking over your clit, then dipping back down to fuck you with it. he wraps his arms around your thighs, holding you there, keeping you open for him, and it’s so much.

your hand flies to his hair, fingers tangling in soft strands. he moans into you, the vibration making your back arch further. his tongue is unfair — slow, then fast, then slow again. lazy licks and then sharp, focused strokes that have you gasping his name in between broken moans.

“you taste so good,” he murmurs between licks. “wanna make you cum just like this. let you fall apart on my tongue.”

you whimper helplessly as he smirks against you, going faster.

he doesn’t stop until your legs are trembling around his shoulders and you’re crying out, fingers tightening in his hair as your orgasm washes over you like a wave hitting hard. thighs shaking, hands clutching him tight, your body unraveling in waves as he holds you through it, tongue still teasing until you push at his shoulders with a weak little “too much—gyu, too much.”

but beomgyu’s not done. not even close.

he climbs back up, mouth shiny, eyes dark. “you still want more..” he whispers against your lips. “..dont you?”

he kisses your inner thigh, then your stomach, then crawls back up and kisses you full on the mouth.

you can taste yourself on his lips. it makes you shiver.

you nod, desperate now, needy in a way you don’t even try to hide. “please, gyu…” you whimper into his mouth.

he groans. “fuck. okay, sweet girl. gonna give it to you.”

he strips quickly — shirt and pants tossed somewhere behind the couch — and then he’s back between your thighs, his pretty veiny hands guiding your hips up to meet him as he pushes in — slow, thick, deep. you gasp, clutching at him as your body adjusts around him, your walls fluttering from overstimulation and the perfect stretch of him inside you.

he groans loudly, forehead pressed to yours, “so perfect— so warm n’tight. fuck, angel…””

his rhythm starts gentle — sweet little rolls of his hips that let you feel everything. his hand finds yours and laces your fingers together as he moves, your other leg hitched around his waist.

“couldnt stop thinking about you,” he whispers, “all day. just wanted you to get home already.”

your heart hammers in your chest at his words, but all you could give in response are sweet sinful moans he loves so much.

he starts moving faster and harder, hips rolling into you with long, deliberate thrusts, his forehead pressed to yours, eyes locked on your face.

“look at me,” he whispers. “wanna see you fall apart.”

and you do — again and again, his name on your lips, his praise in your ears, your nails dragging down his back as he fucks you slow and sweet and so full of love.

when he cums, it’s with a shaky gasp and a low groan of your name, hips stuttering as he fills you up and buries himself deep.

he kisses you through it, hands trembling slightly as he wraps you up again, pulling the blanket over both of you.

you’re still shaking, tears in your eyes — but this time, they’re from everything he gave you.

“you okay?” he asks softly, brushing hair off your face.

you blurt out in the heat of the moment “i think im gonna marry you”

his eyes widen for a second — surprise flickering across his face — and then he lets out the softest laugh, a breath full of affection as he presses a kiss to your nose.

“yeah?” he murmurs, nose still against yours. “then i guess i better keep making my wifey feel good huh?”

you smile into his mouth, wrapping your arms around his neck when he kisses you again.

[nickynclark]

Your Protector

Been rewatching You, and couldn’t help but think of a Simon “Ghost” Riley-Joe Goldberg

Word Count: 726

Warnings: SMUT (18+), CNC, brief mention of violence, somnophillia, oral (F! receiving), unprotected p in v (wrap the willy dont be silly), forced breeding.

Authors note: i wrote this super fast while laying in bed, it’s unedited and all around not my best work, but wanted to post it for you guys:)

MDNI BELOW THE CUT

You have nothing to be scared of, lovie, Simon did all of this for You. He did it to protect You, You didn’t know just how much trouble You had gotten yourself into.

Like that stupid ex-boyfriend of yours, getting rid of him made You blossom. It doesn’t matter that Simon had lured him down into his basement, and locked him away to keep him far from You. That’s okay, it was so he can take care of You.

You should have heard how he talked about You, little dove, and You would be grateful that Simon did what he did. You should have heard the disgusting way that your so-called boyfriend perceived You. Simon hadn’t intended to kill him, but the second he started calling you those words, saying You were a slut and all You want is to fuck around. Your, now ex, boyfriend dug himself a nice deep hole for Simon to throw him down. He had to, considering Simon had sworn to protect You, and your name, whether you’re there to see it or not.

He had to kill him, for You! So You could see how dedicated Simon was to You! And it worked! You came straight to Simon after that sicko was out of your life.

And God was it something. It was everything he had hoped and wished for.

The sex was a whole other story.

Waking up to his balaclava discarded and his face buried between your thighs, he doesn’t need morning coffee when he has You. Your hands buried in his short blond hair, your head tossed back while Simon works his tongue over your clit leisurely. He eats You out for hours, asking for nothing in return. Just him and his favorite meal, licking long strips while he sinks two fingers into your sopping cunt, slowly curling them into that sweet spot buried inside of you while he sucks your clit into his mouth. He has You screaming before he even gets his dick out.

When he finally does fuck You, though, it’s out of this world.

He’ll edge You over and over again on his tongue, then he’ll slowly kiss up your stomach, leaving you mewling for more. He’d make slow work of discarding his tight, black top and his flannel pajama bottoms before his lips meet yours and You taste yourself on his tongue. His mouth moves leisurely against yours, and it’s sloppy while he drags his hard cock through your folds.

“Lookin’ so pretty for me,” he says, dragging his nose up your jawline, “I’d do anythin’ for ya, my little dove.”

You couldn’t do anything but moan as he lined his cock up to your slick cunt, and as he slowly pushed into You, he mumbled about how no one else deserves You, that he’ll protect You from anything or anyone.

You swear he said something about your ex, but the way he sinks into You makes You forget it.

He pounds into you with a fever, your arms wrapped around his neck while he sucks hickies onto your skin, big, deep purple marks that You know You won’t be able to cover with makeup.

That’s just how Simon likes it.

He’ll throw you around like you’re nothing, suddenly flipping You onto your stomach, forcing your hips up as he fills you to the brim, leaving You mewling and reaching back for his hands.

He’ll lace his fingers through yours, grounding You while he bullies that gummy spot deep inside You with his bulbous tip, he’ll tell You how good you feel, how You were made for him, how he’ll take real good care of You.

You cum quick, your walls fluttering around him, face bright read from exhaustion and blush from the way Simon compliments your body while he uses it.

He’s not far behind, asking You if you're on birth control, and when You shake your head and beg him to pull out, he sends one more hard thrust, completely sheathing his cock inside you, making sure that his seed takes.

You’re his, dovie, and he assures You that You will look perfect barefoot and pregnant with his kid.

It doesn't matter that you don't know how he got into your apartment in the first place

[sawmaw]

yay humpday!

🫀 floyd leech x (fem) reader

🫀 sub floyd, dry humping, exhibitionism(? idk), does this count as body worship?? i never know what im doing ok

🫀 note: yeah another stitch event one shut up shut upppppp dont look at me ok. the event rerun had me thinking “wait….. the clothes not being able to come off….. it’s……… actually fire…?” so i wrote this in an hour at four in the morning and you can tell. promise i’ll write something else soon. probably. shut up!!!!!!

Soft panting and beads clanking together filled the air in the bungalow, the room pitch black save for the yellow glow from Floyd’s eye as he desperately rut against your ass through your shorts.

His arm was wrapped around your neck to pin you back to his chest, his mindless pace never slowing despite the pain in his knees from the wooden floors.

“I want it off, I want ’em off…” he murmured, his free hand uselessly trying again to pull your shorts down to no avail—this stupid island made it impossible to take the shorts off. It wasn’t fair; everyone else was able to take off their shirts at most, but it wouldn’t even let yours budge. It wasn’t fair! How could it put you in that outfit, your tits practically spilling out from your top, your shorts just a bit too cheeky, thighs bare for him to look at all day and then not let him take any of it off?

He whined, pulling back to watch his cock straining in his shorts as he humped you.

“Shush.” you whispered, looking back at him over your shoulder. “If anyone wakes up, I’ll kill you.”

You’re only letting him do this in a room full of sleeping people because he was so annoying about it the past three days. He’d ask, he’d beg, he’d grope you any chance he’d get, he’d pull you aside and try to eat you out through your shorts, he’d have you sit on his face, he’d had an almost constant hard-on the entire time you’ve been on the island, constantly tugging at his waistband just to see if maybe this time it’ll work… You almost felt sorry for him.

“I’m tryna, Shrimpy…” His grip on your hips tightened and his pace grew rougher, precum leaking through the fabric. “I want inside…”

He always wanted inside. Always wanted to feel you wrapped around his cock, to feel your walls twitch and squeeze, to remind him how perfectly he fit, like he was made for you and only you.

But he couldn’t, and it was frustrating as much as it was achingly painful.

His touch wandered up your hips, over your sides, up your midriff so he could squeeze and knead at your plush tits through your top. Everything about them was perfect to him. They’re so soft, so comfortable, so pretty, he loved the beautiful imperfections, he loved when you’d reward him with a titjob when he’s been particularly good, he loved suckling on them while you’d slowly grind on his dick.

Floyd let out a shaky moan, letting his body drape over your arched back. “Shrimpy’s so pretty…” he mumbled. “Pretty face, pretty tits, pretty ass, pretty thighs…”

He shifted on his knees and brought a hand down between your thighs, fingers rubbing your cunt in time with his thrusts. He was pleasantly surprised with the soft gasp it elicited from you, the seam in your shorts hit against your clit just right.

He immediately perked up.

“Ahah, I gotcha makin’ a noise?” he drawled. He leaned back, gripping your waist with the other hand so he could pound himself against your flesh, soft plaps of skin-on-skin (and fabric-on-fabric) audible.

You bit at your lip to keep your noises at bay, head resting in your arms on the floor. “Floyd, sh-shut up and keep going.” you hissed, hips subconsciously bouncing back with his movements.

He panted heavily, precum freely leaking out through his clothes and onto yours. His middle finger repeatedly pressed the seam into your clit, pace picking up. “I’m doing g-good, right? I’m being a good boy, Shrimpy?”

You only nodded in response, thighs clamping together around his hand as you felt the coil in your core tighten. Your breath was heavy, yet nowhere near as loud as his—you still had some mindfulness for everyone around them.

He never would, though.

“I really like you…” he giggled, eyes fluttering the closer he got. “Sh-Shrimpy—“

“Not isn’t the t-time to run your mouth.”

“Can’t, I can’t, you feel so good—“ He gasped, his pace growing sloppy and uncoordinated, his finger pressing harder. “I c-can’t help it, I can’t help—Gonna cum—“

The hand on your waist absentmindedly moved up to press on your back, pinning your upper body to the floor. “Are you—Are you gonna cum with me, Shrimpy?” he whined, his cock staining and pulsing beneath the fabric.

“Be q-quiet—“ You could feel your heart pounding in your chest, the blood rushing throughout your body with each press of his finger on your clit.

“Please—Please cum with me, Shrimpy, I’ve b-been trying so hard to be good, I need it, please—“ His babbling was cut short with a gasp, his hips giving a few harsh pounds against you as he came, white shooting from beneath the fabric and oozing into the back of your shorts.

Your own orgasm crashed over you at the same time, body tensing fully and eyes rolling up with your teeth biting down hard on your lip to keep yourself silent.

Left panting, Floyd collapsed forward onto you. It really wasn’t enough, it wasn’t what he wanted, what he needed, but it would have to do for the moment. He nuzzled into the back of your neck, trying to ignore the uncomfortable feeling of his cum-soaked fabric against his skin. “Shrimpy…”

“Shut it. You were way too loud.” you grumbled, too unbothered to squirm beneath his heavy body crushing you. You didn’t even want to think about how you were supposed to go about the stains on your clothes.

“We’re fiiine, nobody woke up.”

The moment those words left Floyd’s mouth, a subtle rustling was heard nearby in the room and Ace’s head popped up from the sea of half-a-dozen other people, his face red and tired and unamused. “Nope, somebody’s definitely up.”

A silence washed over the three, your and Floyd’s eyes wide. After a few beats, Floyd mumbled, “‘Night, Crabby.”

“Hey, don’t just ‘night’ me—“

“‘Night, Crabby.”

[mattsstarlet]

i would loveeeeee if u wrote a day in a life of chris spending the day babysitting bubbles and bella after candy and matt drops them off at his place to go on a date 😭

a day where chris pet sits camgirl!reader’s furry babies.

“oh! and don’t forget to—”

“— to give bubbles a giant ass carrot for lunch, yes i know.” chris smiles, patting you on your shoulder as he walks you to the front door of your home, matt grumpily leaning against the passenger door with his arms crossed, waiting for you.

matt may seem like a boring man, but really his passion is the outdoors, so with that being said, the weather gave him the opportunity to finally visit a new hiking trail, dragging you along with him. chris opted to take care of the pets, he loved your bunny and your cute little dog to death, going as far as even sneaking bubbles into his backpack and managing to make it out of the door before you noticed, one night.

chris leaned against the door frame, with both pets on each arm as he watched matt open the car door, raising an eyebrow at his brother patting your ass while you climbed in.

“no funny business, alright?” he remarks, grinning from ear to ear, chuckling at matt’s middle finger in the air. chris closes the front door behind him as he steps in, crouching down to let the pets walk on their own. “your parents are naughty.”

chris sheepishly grins at a young woman walking past him at the park, a pretty smile on her face as she watched him being so caring towards two animals, not only that but he looked cute considering he had a literal bunny on a leash. a pink leash.

the cavalier spaniel starts tugging on her own leash, wiggling her brown tail and sniffing the grass— chris’ least favorite part of taking care of a pet. he hated cleaning up dog shit.

he sighs, pulling out a tiny bag beginning to kneel down, for a quick second he lets go of the bunny, sure enough bubbles was well behaved, right?

chris, with a displeased expression, puts the bag on his hand as if it were a glove, picking up the mess before tying it up and disregarding it in the trash can a few steps ahead.

“alrighly bella, let’s go—”

“—excuse me, is this your bunny?”

chris’ head flies up at the sound of a soft voice, the same girl who he passed by not too long ago, holding bubbles in her arms. he embarrassingly smiles, their hands brushing as the bunny cuddles up in his arms.

“yeah— well, no. he’s uh— uh my brother’s girl— i’m pet sitting.” he rambles, mentally cursing himself at the sudden loss of words.

“that’s cute. i love pets.” she expresses, her eyes darting back and forth with his, a tiny bit of excitement in them mixed something much more.

chris smirks, licking his pink, chapped lips before replying in a cocky, flirty manner. “yeah?”

she nods, beginning to walk with him for around ten minutes as they speak about the black kitten she owns back in her apartment, stopping abruptly to check her apple watch.

“i completed all my steps but… when are you done pet sitting?” she tilts her head, fidgeting with the zipper of her thin black pull-over, the material tight enough to make chris’ mind wander— he knows what she’s up to and he likes it. a little too much.

“uh… give me an hour?”

Chris: Gonna drop off candy’s children

Chris: Don’t ask why

Nick: Gross.

Nick: You and Matt should be ashamed of yourselves

© 𝗆𝖺𝗍𝗍𝗌𝗌𝗍𝖺𝗋𝗅𝖾𝗍

note ໒꒱ ‧₊˚ this sucks soooo bad i’m sorry. tried making it cutesy, flirty, and then i dont know what i did lmao.

[dgaftilwedie]

HIIII,,, idk if i can ask u, but could u do some hc’s of namgyu dealing with a reader who is insecure(? ;3

(im sorry if i wrote somethin’ bad, english isn’t my first, lenguage, BUT U CAN DO IT WHENEVER U WANT, I DONT REALLY HAVE A PROBLEM WITH THAT, BUT I REALLY LOVE HOW U WRITE<3)

UHM HELLO YES I WOULD LOVE TO!!!!!! i get so excited when i get requests istg i was giggling over this for a solid 5 minutes... this hits so close to home too UGH!!!!!! i may or may not have gotten carried away and a wrote a whole fic instead... whoopsies!!!! i hope u enjoy!!!!! (also your english sounded perfectly fine to me!!!!!)

contains: insecure reader ofc, soft supportive boyfriend namgyu who LOVES YOU DEARLY AND WOULD DO ANYTHING TO SEE YOU HAPPY, just a whole bunch of fluffy shenanigans

namgyu's a very attentive partner. he seems like he's in his own little world pretty often, zoning out with distant eyes, but a lot of the time, he's observing your little quirks. the way your eyebrows twitch when you're concentrated or the way you bite the inside of your cheek when you're anxious - whatever it is, he notices. so of course, he was quick to notice the look of discomfort on your face as you stared into the bathroom mirror.

"somethin' wrong?" he asked, leaning his back against the door frame. the two of you had just gotten back to his place after a cute little date. he was always quick to change into his pajamas - a black pull-over hoodie for an artist you didn't know and a pair of plaid boxers. there was a weird feeling of envy in your stomach. he looked so fucking good all the time. no matter the circumstances, namgyu looked amazing. even now, wearing nothing but his pajamas. it wasn't fair. you let out a sigh.

"uh, yeah. 'm fine," you mumbled, running your hands through your hair. you were nitpicking everything about your appearance. not a single thing went ignored. namgyu could tell something was wrong. you could tell he was staring at you.

"come on, baby. what's the matter?" he walked into the bathroom and stood behind you, head poking out above yours. his arms lazily wrapped around you. "you can tell me, i won't bite. pinky promise."

you knew he wasn't going to let up. that's just how namgyu was. he could read you like a book... most of the time, you didn't mind it, but now?

"do you think i look ok?" you finally crack. he always gets you to crack.

"is that what this is about?"

"...maybe..."

namgyu pressed a soft kiss to your cheek, pulling you against his chest. the way he stared at your reflection was so much different from the look in your eyes. he looked at you like you were the most angelic being to cross his path. he looked at you like you were a sunset, a field of flowers, like you were all the stars in the sky bundled into one beautiful creature. he touched you like you were fine china, soft fingers and gentle kisses as if he could break you.

"you're lookin' too hard," he mumbled, squeezing you a little tighter. "mirrors lie or somethin'. you can't see what i can see, but i promise, i think you're perfect."

namgyu struggled with words - you knew that - but the way he was talking about you felt natural for him. you were so used to your own view of yourself. you constantly beat yourself up over the smallest things. namgyu didn't see that side of you. he didn't see what you saw; he saw something better.

"have you ever seen the way your eyes light up when you get excited over something? or the way you smile when i surprise you? or the way you look at me when you wake up?"

you could smell him all around you. his cheek was pressed against yours, sleepy voice vibrating throughout your body. you towards his face in the mirror, biting your bottom lip.

"i'm pretty sure humans weren't even supposed to be able to see their own faces, but look at that. you have the blessing of seeing yours. and i think you're pretty fucking gorgeous."

sometimes, you wanted to punch namgyu. not because he did anything wrong but because he was so good to you, it made you want to explode or something. he wasn't perfect but he tried so hard. his eyes hadn't left you, still analyzing you like you were a statue in a museum. there was a sinking feeling in your chest but it wasn't because you felt horrible about yourself anymore. you were sure you were about to cry.

"namgyu," you started, but you stopped yourself. you didn't really have anything to say. instead, you whipped yourself around, wrapping your arms around his waist and squeezing him like he was going to disappear.

"you're ok, baby." namgyu rested his head on yours, slowly rocking you back and forth. his hands were warm; one rested on your lower back and the other in between your shoulder blades, gently rubbing a circle to try and soothe you. "i've got you."

you could always count on namgyu to make you feel at least a little better. even if it didn't solve all of your problems or cure your self-image issues, it didn't matter, because namgyu would compliment you endlessly just to see you smile. he wasn't perfect - not by any means - but he was good to you. he tried.