#i mean reader

[inkskinned]

please i love you i'm begging you bring back suspension of disbelief bring back trusting the audience like. i cannot handle any more dialogue that sounds like a legal document. "hello, i am here to talk to you about the incident from a few minutes ago, because i feel you might be unwell, and i am invested in your personal wellbeing." "thank you, i am unwell because the incident was hurtful to me due to my childhood, which was bad." I CANT!!!!

do you know how many people are mad that authors use "growled" as a word for "said"? it's just poetics! they do not literally mean "growled," it's just a common replacement for "said with force but in a low tone." it's normal! do you hear me!! help me i love you please let me out of here!!!

[letmetellyouaboutmyfeels]

I am incredibly serious right now when I beg you all, please, and if you have Twitter or Tiktok or whatever to please spread the word: click on an author's profile on Ao3.

You want to know if an author has written more? Want to know if they're still writing? Want to see more from them? Want to know if they've written a trope or kink or sex scenario you enjoy?

Click on their name. And look at their profile.

I cannot tell you how many times in the last six months someone has read a new or newer fic of mine and said they (a new reader who has read nothing else I've done) "can't wait to see what you do next!" I've written 50+ fics and over a million words already.

"I don't know if you're still writing..." click on my profile. I am. I literally wrote a 128k+ fic for that ship last month.

"Would you ever do X?" "Please do Y!" I already did. Click on my name and look at my works.

Archive of our Own is a library. It's an archive. Not social media. It is your responsibility to fight back against the laziness that corporate algorithms have trained into you.

Click my author name. Just click it. Just click it.

Before you demand more, or ask if a writer will do XYZ, or wonder if the author still writing, or anything - click on their profile. Click on the author's profile.

I'm not trying to be mean or condescending or anything like that. I'm just exhausted. It's disheartening and frustrating to repeat myself ad nauseam, because someone couldn't take thirty seconds to do the tiniest bit of work to see if I've written lately, if I've written more for their ship, or scan my works to see if I've written what they're asking for. Please. Please. I'm begging.

Click the author's name, and explore before you ask.

[honeyblackberries]

imagine jjk men who are so casual with their affection. sure they do the usual things like holding your hand and kissing you in public but...

nanami would fold down the collar of your shirt when it sticks up funny, all while continuing on with your conversation as if it was just second nature. 

geto would poke in between your brows when you're frowning and tease that your pretty face will get stuck like that. 

gojo would play with your hair when he's bored, tugging at it to annoy you like a bratty kid.

toji would wrap his arm around your waist to move you out of the way of people on the street. his hand lingering as he complains for you to watch where you’re going.

sukuna would bite you when your attention strays away from him for too long, he looks irritatingly pleased with himself when you tell him off.

[bi-writes]

ghost doesn't think he hears you correctly, not at first. there's a ringing that's still in his ears from the bullet he nearly ate earlier. (cw: dubcon, 18+)

"wot?"

"can you please please please--pretend to be my boyfriend--just for one minute--!"

"heyyy, sunshine," a nasty little voice sings. you spin around, cowering by the bar, just as someone a little too drunk and a little too big comes into your space. you scoot away from him, but he's coming closer, leaning over you, and ghost tilts his head to the side as he watches the way you flinch at the stink of his breath.

ghost fits into the space at your back quite easily. your back arches a little as his big hand finds the bend of your waist, and you squeak a little when he forces you back, pressing your ass against his pelvis as he tucks you into his shadow.

"who's this fuckin' nitwit?" ghost mutters, clicking his tongue under his mask. you swallow, blinking up at the man, shrugging as you try and press yourself a little closer against his heat.

"i-i dunno," you whisper, and it's shaky, afraid. "h-he won't stop...following me."

"tha' right?" ghost hums, and you're so afraid of the man in front of you that you don't really register the way ghost's big hand is slipping lower, over the curve of your denim jeans and squeezing the fat of your ass that fills the palm of his hand all too nicely. "ya botherin' 'er?"

the man swallows a little, hiccuping. he stands up straighter, a little more sober, and he just shrugs as he takes another swig of his beer.

"just...she's so pretty, ya know--agh!"

ghost reaches over and grips him by the fat of his neck. he squeezes hard, drawing him closer, would be spitting in his face if he wasn't wearing the balaclava over his head.

"'f i see ya around 'er again, i'll paint the fuckin' walls with y'r teeth, mate, yeah? now get outta my fuckin' sight before i do it just for fun."

when ghost lets him go, he struggles to breathe, holding onto the bar and coughing as he scrambles to put distance between you. you shake a little, turning towards the bar, picking up what you assume is his drink and sipping it slowly to try and calm the nerves. you close your eyes gently, shaking your head.

"thank you," you say softly. "i-i couldn't shake him off, he was following me everywhere, i..." you turn your head and meet his eyes, smiling up at him. "that was really nice of you. i'm...sorry if i caused you any trouble."

ghost tilts his head to the side, fitting himself back behind you. he reaches over, putting both arms on either side of you and leaning over one shoulder, breathing hot against your neck.

"wot you mean?" he murmurs, and you blink, not understanding.

"for pretending to..." you laugh a little, looking into his eyes. "just...it was nice of you to do that. to pretend like that, i--"

"dunno wot y'r talkin' about," ghost chuckles, and you seize when he reaches down between you, cupping you between the legs as he palms at your pussy over your jeans. you keen a little, leaning into his touch, nasty brute pressing two fingers against where you're most sensitive and forcing your ass back against him, where he's hard, chubbed up since he first saw you, leaking into his cargos.

"i-i--" your eyes are wide, but you don't pull away, don't push him back--why am i not running? why can't i leave? what's happening to me--

"i wasn't pretending. were you?"

[shotmrmiller]

sex pollen trope where you're the one affected, having been exposed to some dense gas while on an op that felt like harsh sandpaper across your throat and lungs, and now you're a feverish mess on some ratty cot in a safe house and with only ghost as company, it's miserable, as the saying goes.

hair sticking to your sweaty skin, plastered onto your forehead and neck, every swallow feeling like you've got a mouthful of sand, your fluttering pulse wild and deafening in your ears, and the throbbing ache deep in your core, the blistering heat right below your navel— it'd only been uncomfortable in the beginning, the faint throbbing incredibly familiar, but the more you ignored it, the worse it got.

and now you're here, with arousal sticking your underwear to your pussy, unable to do anything about it because your lieutenant is seated in a corner that lets him have both you and the front door within his line of sight. a quick, discreet rub under your clothes is not an option.

someone put you out of your foggy misery.

"squirmin' like a worm on a 'ook isn't gonna help." his staring doesn't either, yet he does it anyway.

"got to make sure ya aren't dyin' on me." you want to snap that you don't think proof of life is on the darkened stain between your legs, the retort pressed behind clenched teeth but another thick wave of bestial need rolls over you and god, you're about to shove your hand into your underwear, propriety be damned—

"best you don't do tha'." why the fuck not? "you'll only get relief for a moment 'fore it comes back twofold." he says as if he's reading off the morning paper and not watching you fight tooth and nail to not fuck yourself against the pillow your head is on. (soap's offer to be friends with benefits is only looking better by the hour.)

you hastily decide that it'll be better than nothing. you'll just have to rub your pussy raw until this drug runs its course and you're telling him to piss off or don't, but you've had enough. you're stuck here with him anyway, no flight home until the morn and you're not about to spend it writhing around.

"if tha's wha' you want," ghost bites his gloves off, spitting them out onto the ground before curling his hands around your ankles and dragging you toward him. "i will help." your entire world narrows down to the feel of him touching your skin, his fingers searing as they hook into the waistband of your pants, and you almost kick him in the mouth trying to get them off faster.

"but 'm not fuckin' you." the bite of disappointment is quickly forgotten, his breath warm against your slick pussy, and after three quick glides of his tongue over your pearl, your orgasm crests, pulse after pulse of pleasure so potent it stung.

in less than a minute you're burning again, need thrumming through you and with the heady push and drag of his middle finger over your sensitive nerves, curling in you until he can fit two, three—

you're lost.

(ghost telling you that he's not doing anything else because if he's going to fuck you then you're going to remember it falls on ringing ears.)

[descendant-of-truth]

Shipping is fun and all but I swear every single time someone makes a comment, whether as a joke or in a legitimate analysis, about there being "no other explanation" for a pair's interactions, I lose just a bit more of my sanity

Like, no, you guys don't get it. Romance is not about the Amount of devotion, it's about the COLOR. the FLAVOR of it all. a character can be just as devoted to their platonic friend as they are to their romantic partner, and they don't love either of them more, just differently.

But because the majority of people still have it stuck in their minds that romance exists on the highest tier of love, I'm stuck seeing endless takes that boil down to "these two care about each other too much for it to NOT be romantic" as if that's the core determining factor to how literally any of this works

In conclusion: stop telling me that I don't understand the story if I don't interpret the leads as romantic, I am TIRED

[jounosnumberoneslut]

brainwashed / sigma

prompt... "I'm yours. / Tell me you're mine." & "You've done enough teasing. Now it's my turn."

contains...! smut, toy usage (fleshlight), handjobs, teasing, begging, one use of "good boy", slight perv!sigma, possessive!reader

AFAB Reader.

949 words.

Sigma felt dirty. 

Every time you bent over the casino table to roll your die, he couldn’t help but stare at your backside. Your skirt rode up every time you did so, giving him a pretty view of your panties. As his eyes wandered down to get another peek, you turned around. Waving in his direction, gesturing for him to join you. Sigma panicked, placing a hand over the front of his slacks before turning on his heel. Making quick strides toward his suite. 

To say you were confused was an understatement. Usually, Sigma would join you no matter what. Giving you pointers and cheering you on when you won. Something was definitely wrong. You abandoned what you were doing. Making your way toward Sigma’s room. You didn’t dare to knock, you were too concerned to even think about doing so. “Sigma, are you okay-“ You quickly shut the door behind you. Freezing at the unexpected sight. 

Sigma was sprawled out on his bed, clothes lazily pulled off, and an interesting toy clasped in one of his hands. “Y-Y/n ah, please… don’t look! I-I can explain…” You didn’t respond. Instead, you made your way to the side of his bed. Admiring the way his whole body flushed. He averted his gaze from you, pressing his free hand over his aching cock to hide from your view. 

“Shh, it’s okay. Why don’t you tell me what happened, baby?” He flushed further at your term of endearment, taking a moment to compose his thoughts before he spoke up. 

“W-Well… I feel wrong for saying this but- I got… excited watching you… just now…”You climbed atop the bed at this point. Slowly moving his hand away from his cock as he continued speaking. 

“I-I deeply apologize y/n. I wasn’t t-thinking clearly…” His gaze finally met yours, and he was shocked to see you weren’t appalled by his confession. 

“Sigma, baby, what’s this?” You gestured to the strange toy in his hand.

His blood ran cold in his veins. He had almost forgotten about the obscene device. 

“Um… Nikolai gave this to me- he called it a fleshlight… I-I was going to use it t-to…” You touched his lips, “Shh… relax, it’s okay my love. Here, let me help you with this problem of yours. It’s only fair, right?” His eyes widened at your offer, not even realizing that you grasped the fleshlight in your own hands. 

You lined it up to his cock, waiting for his approval before granting him that well-needed friction. “Oh g-god, yes- please!” He stuttered out. Bringing his hands up to grip the front of your shirt as you moved your hand down his cock. Working the toy around his length vigorously, heat rushing to your core at the sight of Sigma falling apart before you. 

He couldn't take his eyes off yours as he scored his bottom lip with his teeth. Needy little whines slipped out as Sigma gripped the front of your shirt even fiercer. Knuckles turning white in the process. "Hah... w-wait, y/n- it's too much! I don't think I'll be able to last m-much longer if you keep... ah- doing t-that-!"

His words went in one ear and out the other. Instead of slowing down, you began working the toy over his cock quicker. You couldn't help yourself. Sigma's desperation left your mind reeling. You were the only one who got to see him like this, and it caused a strong sense of admiration to rise in your chest. 

"Tell me you're mine." 

You huffed out, never once taking your eyes off his muted orbs. His whole body tensed at your request. You could tell he was mere moments away from toppling over the edge, and you were going to grant him that release... after he said those two little words. 

Sigma whined as your hand came to a stop around his cock. He sat up slightly, leaning into your face before he pleaded, "Don't s-stop! I'm so... c-close, please-!" You brought your free hand up to cup his chin, pulling him impossibly closer to you. Noses brushing up against one another before you quipped out, 

"Just say the magic words, baby. That's all you have to do." Sigma's brows knitted together, and you could feel his cock twitching wildly from within the toy. You chuckled under your breath at his cute reactions.

"I'm y-yours!"

"Good boy."

You wasted no time working the slick toy up and down his sensitive cock with ease. The obscene noises coming from the fleshlight echoed throughout his mind as you captured his lips with yours. Silencing his needy whimpers and whines while the coil within him snapped. Sigma's eyes rolled back into his head as he spilled his load within the confines of the toy. 

His hips twitched off the bed as you worked him through his high. Slowing down your movements against him the moment you felt his hands reach down to tug your sleeve. Signaling you to stop. Sigma pulled away from your lips with a faint whine. Resting his forehead against yours. 

"N-No more... please..." He huffed out, pulling your wrist once more. You finally obliged, tugging your hand and the used toy off of his cock slowly. Earning a weak hiss from Sigma. His whole body shuddered as the cool air hit his wet cock.

"Aww, how adorable!" You cooed out. Running your hand that still cupped his chin down lower. Tracing down the expanse of his exposed chest, drawing yet another desperate moan from the flushed man. Sigma regained a little bit of his composure, taking your wandering hand into your own before he whispered,

"You've done enough teasing. Now it's my turn." 

[imclou]

Man y/n is having one hell of a week

hey did you guys know that i'm still fixated on @spadillelicious's Love Death and Rollerskates AU? ;)))

Yes?

ah

ok ;)

|| Bonus ||

[onismdaydream]

thinking about perv yuji (like i always do) who sneaks into your room when you're sleeping because the panties he stole no longer smell like you or your laundry detergent. they feel nice around his cock, sure, but he wants to smell you, wants to pretend he can taste you. so he goes to get new ones. he even sees a pair that doesn't look familiar from when he looks up your skirts (he swears he doesn't mean to, it's just that your skirts are so short and well, he's right there...)

he takes them in his hand, feels the smooth and silky fabric and thumbs at the little bow. they're cute. he hopes you don't mind if he borrows them for a bit.

but then you stir. a quiet rustle of sheets and a soft groan as you get comfortable, but yuji's perks up at the sound. his gaze actually settles on you, now that his eyes are adjusted, and he feels his cock twitch at the sight. you just look so peaceful and pretty.

and of course he can't help it if his eyes drift down to see your body. the tank top is loose on you, enough that yuji can get a good look at your cleavage. that's one thing he wishes you would show off more — he'd love to get a more accurate representation of you in his mind when he jacks off.

another quiet noise and his gaze moves back to your lips, slightly parted and so damn kissable. if only yuji could feel your soft lips against his...

against his better judgement, yuji takes his cock out, promising himself he can only look. he strokes himself as he watches you sleep, getting himself to full hardness. he knows he has to be quick and quiet — there's no way he could talk himself out of the situation if you woke up. but the sight of his leaking tip so close to your pretty mouth makes him dizzy.

it takes a pathetically short amount of time before he cums in his hand, a few drops falling to the floor of your bedroom. you're still blissfully unaware of what your friend is doing, still in a deep sleep as he carefully swipes his thumb along your bottom lip. a small smear of his cum for you to taste when you wake up.

[kiatoru-archived]

"fuuuuck," choso groans, long and drawn out. he tosses his head back, a plume of smoke escaping his lips, his joint hanging limping from his fingers. he uses his free hand to grip and knead at the fat of your hip before raising his palm and bringing it down hard on your ass.

you let out a high pitched squeal and clench around him.

"cho," you whine, pretty tears collecting on your lash line.

"come on baby," he whispers, taking another drag from his joint and gently blowing it at you, "ride me harder, make yourself cum on my cock, gorgeous."

your lungs burn as you inhale the excess smoke and you gyrate your hips faster. choso moans loudly and bucks his hips up into you, making your clit grind against his happy trail. fat tears pour down your plump cheeks.

"s' deep, s' deep!" you moan and squirm above him as his tip nudges against your sweet spot.

"fuck," he growls, dropping his joint off the edge of the couch in favor of gripping your hips, "stop runnin' from my dick baby, gotta fill you up."

you choke and sob, trembling above him and clinging to his shoulders, whining and moaning over how good it feels.

"take it all baby," he mumbles, lips pressed against your ear, "m' not stoppin' till i cum s' deep in this pussy that she never forgets me."

[fishsinsareacknowledged]

Ghost who praises you absentmindedly. It's not even inherently sexual whenever he does it, far too used to congratulating other people in his earlier years.

A simple, "Good girl", whenever you complete your training. Or a, "Thats it, love", if your hands manage to tease out that knot in his back.

What he isn't used to is praises and complements though, man can dish it, man can't take it. A simple, "Good work, Lt!", is bringing said 6'3[192cm] killer of a man into a blushing man under that mask. A blush all the way from the edges of his eyes to the firsts of his collarbone. Only able to reply in a grunt lest he makes a fool of himself.

"Lookin alive today, si", and he won't admit that your voice makes him swoon. The confidence in it making his stomach flutter, he was sure he looked like shit but ah, what's wrong with fantazising? Not even having the mind nor heart to tell you to stop calling him that silly simple nickname.

Si?, si, si!, your voice rattles in his mind, intoxicating to the man who was currently ignoring you. Trying to get to the gym quickly without facing you.

[tiredmamaissy]

Oh nothing, just thinking about an accidental creampie with Simon Riley and him turning into a forceful breeding. 😇 mdni!!

Your thighs are on fire but it doesn’t stop you from riding his fat cock. Your pussy is so wet and sloppy it stains his thighs every time you ram him back inside. Your mind is cloudy and you’re high on hormones. It’s the first you’ve felt this way in months.

“‘m ovulating, lieutenant.” You confess through a desperate whisper when you feel him twitch inside you.

His eyes widen as they search yours with haste, trying to find your bluff. Bluff that you didn’t actually have the balls to come off the pill and fuck him raw. He made you swear to take your pill everyday. And he knows you can’t ovulate when you’re on it.

“Fuck. Get off.” He grunts gruffly, glancing down at the slimy, sticky mess you're making on him.

“But ‘m gonna cum—gonna cum. Gonna c-cum on your cock, ghost.”

Your pouting, pushing hard enough to shove the crown of his cock past your cervix. You grind into him in a frenzy, chasing your orgasm like you need it to breathe. He feels you tighten around him and your little fingers dig into his shoulders.

“I said get off, private.” He growls deep, fighting hard to keep himself composed.

But the feeling of your fertile little pussy pulsing on his cock makes him to lose control. You go to lift yourself off him once you finish, only for him to grab your hips and force you back down onto his cock, hard.

“Fuckin’ hell—” He groans gutturally, flooding your cunt with his hot seed.

“Simon…fuck!” You whimper from how deep he is, trying to wriggle out his unrelenting grasp.

“Is that what you wanted? Wanted me to breed you?” He rasps, driving his throbbing cock even deeper inside. “Then you better take it, love.”

[bethsvrse]

when I find a brilliant, jaw dropping, amazing x reader fic but suddenly I’ve been given a first name, last name, hair colour and eye colour

[tojisun]

older bf simon the type to ask, “how do you want me, love?” when you two finally fuck :’(

he’s so careful and gentle, leashing his own desires because there is a certain satisfaction in having you tip into your orgasm first before he reaches his own. it’s so dizzying, having you order him around and him giving you what you asked but twice the intensity, twice the pleasure. he has you crying in his arms, your words warbled with your gasps, and he holds you throughout because—“like this, sweetheart? is this what you wanted?”

you sob your yesses and your i love yous and your i need mores, and simon gives and gives because god you’re just too precious

[bi-writes]

thinking about being the new addition to tf141. you are an asset given to laswell by the CIA, a timid little thing but your aim is always on target, and you are quiet, tech savvy, and you do as you're told. (18+, dark)

just how lieutenant riley prefers. he dwarfs you. the first time you meet, your eyes nearly come out of your head from how wide they go. he's so large, and you feel so tiny compared to him, and even though he does nothing but a disinterested once over, it is obvious to the rest of the team that you might just be his favorite.

it's most obvious in the subtle touches. when you're getting ready to jump, ghost comes up from behind and tugs on your parachute, nearly topping you over making sure it's secure. when you're getting ready in the back of the humvee, he reaches over and buckles your thigh holster for you when he notices the strap is coming loose. you nearly choke when you feel his big hand between your thighs, and you stare up at him with wide eyes when his pinkie moves up the seam of your zipper when he tugs his hand away.

and then the way he's on your six is unlike anything else. like glue, chest pressed to your back, his gloved hand squeezing your waist as he moves you every which way he pleases because you're so small to him, so easy, and he growls under his breath when he touches the curve of your hips or the fat of your ass.

maybe you might enjoy it if he wasn't so fucking awkward about it. if he didn't stare at you without blinking. if he didn't adjust his cock in his jeans right in front of you. if he didn't grip you by the back of your head, tugging you any way he wanted as if scolding a kitten using the scruff of their neck.

you think the team would notice by now--that they would step in, tell ghost to back off, but they turn a blind eye. they tolerate this behavior, and you don't know if it's because ghost is so good at his job, they don't want to, or that they are so afraid of him, they refuse to say anything.

or maybe they approve. maybe it keeps ghost at bay. maybe it keeps a lion in his den. a spider in its nest. maybe indulging ghost in his fucked form of flirting and socialization is what keeps the foundations of this team right where it needs to be--and you realize, slowly, that maybe that is why you're here.

because ghost likes them soft, and they need to put a muzzle on their dog.

so when you feel him in the dark, slipping a gloved hand under the blanket that keeps you warm at night, he is pleasantly surprised to find you awake. and even more surprised to feel your hand slipping the soft lace of your panties right into his fucking pocket.

"they teach y'that 'n basic training? how ta give y'r knickers to y'r lieutenant, eh?"

"no," you whisper, and when you meet his eyes in the dark, he looks so hungry. he's untamed, no training, he's used to getting what he wants with no resistance. you turn over in bed, and you don't get to see the way he sucks on his teeth when you let your knees fall, revealing the pretty place between your thighs, soft and puffy and wet, just waiting for a good mutt to eat her up. "but i learned other things."

"tha' right?"

"yeah," you say softly, and you turn over onto your stomach, pushing back onto your knees right in front of him. he bends, leaning over until he's pushing his masked face right into the seam of your cunt, and you grip the sheets tight when he inhales deeply, a rumble following as both of his hands grip either side of your ass and spread you open for him. you're drooling, wetting the nylon fabric, and you gasp when you feel the wet, warm muscle of his tongue suck on your folds through the mask. it's lewd, and you're wetting the material so much it sticks to the strong lines of his face, but he continues, tilting his head to the side as he laps at the pretty slick that dampens your thighs.

"what'd y'learn then, swee'eart?"

not how to fuck your lieutenant. but...you did learn to keep them happy.

"h-how to be a good girl."

and you think you feel him smile.

[yeyinde]

trying to seduce or rile up Price only for it utterly backfire on you has got to be one of my favourite things ever. especially if it's framed like a reluctant aggressor situation that flips on its head. because while he might not have wanted to do this at first, once he starts, there's absolutely no stopping him until he's satisfied.

which just ends up with you on your knees, barely able to keep yourself up as he folds himself over you, furry chest glued to your spine, forearm shoved under your neck, fingers gripping your shoulder to keep you locked in place as he sets out to make you regret ever trying to tempt him by viciously pounding his pent up aggression into your poor, abused pussy. gives you his full weight as a punishment, too; not stopping until all the air is squeezed out of your sore, burning lungs.

and all the while he rubs his bearded jaw over your sweat-slicked, tear stained cheek, and growls into your ear about how spoiled, needy little things don't get to cry now. not when he's just giving you exactly what you asked for.

so say thank you, sir and stop whining about it already 🙄