#i really want to draw more metal boys | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

gloomskulls · 2 months ago

Text

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚LIMERENCE [tasm!peter parker]

pairings: tasm!peter parker x reader

part 2

⇢ ˗ˏˋ SUMMARY ୨୧ For Peter Parker, the deepest secret is not being Spider-Man. It's that he likes you, no he loves you, wants you in any imaginable way possible. After years of quietly admiring you from a distance, everything changes after a biology project that partners you two together. Peter sees a glimpse of chance to get nearer to you, but the line of affection and obsession begins to blur

⇢ ˗ˏˋ WARNINGS ୨୧ obessive peter, creep peter, stalking, masturbation, panty sniffing, dirty thoughts, breaking in, just peter being hopelessly in love. If any of this finds you uncomfortable, please click out do yourself (and me also) a favor. lemme know if I missed any! MINORS DO NOT READ

If you don't want to see my dark stories in the future please block the tag #madi: dark content

A/n: my first ever fic posted on Tumblr, yippee! This is also my first ever smut so it probs be equivalent to horse poo but anyways, this also takes place in tasm 2. don't steal any of the shit I've written or else i'm gonna turn you into Vicky from Terrifier/srs

Peter didn't understand what was so special about you, you were just a crush. Or that's what he convinced himself. Every single place you were in, Peter would carefully trail behind you, like there was a magnet strapped onto you, and Peter was the metal, he would always find himself drawing next to you. Peter Parker was no stranger to keeping secrets. It was, after all, the epitome of his double life. A mask, a costume, a name that wasn't his at all. There was one secret, however, that even the Spider-Man's mask couldn't cover—his growing infatuation towards you.

It started out really simple. You decided to give back the nerdy boy's pencil in sophomore year and defended him from Flash Thompson in his junior year, it was all simple really, something a person with decency and was taught with proper manners would do. But Peter took it as more than that.

Candid photos here and there, purposefully falling of his skateboard so you would help him, cryptic notes in your locker, sometimes a random flower if Peter was lucky to find any.

Limerence, as some might say

The first people who would ever notice Peter's strange behavior where the people who raised him. Uncle Ben would notice this girl in the screen of his nephew's computer, so did Aunt May when she saw many polaroid photos of the same face underneath Peter's bed. Peter shrugged it off, saying the same exact words to the both of them.

'she's just a crush'

Peter Parker was very good at being hidden in the open. Sure, he didn't want to be invisible, but it is what it is. One of the self-working "losers" with horrible punchlines and pretty much the face screaming "nerd". Well, it didn't bother Peter much. He had many other more important things to think about. You

It's been years now. It was already the last year of senior year, graduation was already nearing, still, he hasn't mustered up the courage to do speak to you, afraid that you won't reciprocate the same feelings he has. His been watching you from a distance, stealing glances in class and making mental notes on all the little things you did, like doodling on the corners of your notebooks or, how you tucked your hair behind your ear when you were concentrating. He knew that it was weird, creepy even, but Peter couldn't stop himself.

So, when Mr. Warren announced a paired project for biology, Peter's internal monologue kicked into overdrive.

"Pair work begins today," Mr. Warren said, his smile a gruff overture that still Peter thought unnecessary. "Choose your partners wisely, just choose somebody you will along with. You can really screw up over this project if you don't!"

The room broke out into a low buzz as students shuffled their chairs and moved toward their friends. Peter didn't move. He never did. Choosing a partner was like finding a needle in a haystack type of task for him

Alright, Pete, it is not such a big deal. You are not going to end up with her or anything. Just relax, find someone cool, and—

"Peter!"

Your voice broke through his thoughts, and he looked up to see you in front of his desk, clutching a notebook to your chest

"By any chance do you have a partner? My friends kind of made their own pairs" you asked, your lips curving into an easy smile.

Peter blinked. His brain short-circuited.

"N-nope. I'm totally solo. Flying solo. A lone wolf. A…"

"Awesome! Then let's team up."

Peter turned to you, his mind racing, he blinked, trying to absorb this. You were choosing him? He nodded frantically; his heart was hammering at a top speed that he was convinced you could hear it

You smiled at him, you fucking smiled at him

For the rest of the class Mr. Warren instructed everyone to plan for the project for the rest of the class. You kept bouncing ideas back and forth, and Peter felt a strange, thrilling sensation of in his heart. You were funny, clever, and surprisingly very easy to communicate with. Every time you laughed at one of his jokes, he felt like he was soaring.

When the bell rang, you packed your things and turned to him. "We should work on this at my place. Tomorrow after school?"

Peter nearly dropped his notebook. "Uh, yeah. Totally. I mean, yes. That works. Perfect. So super normal."

You laughed again. "Cool. Here's my address."

And with that, you scribbled it on a scrap of paper and handed it to him before walking away, leaving Peter frozen in his seat.

That night, Peter was sitting in his room staring at the address. To most people, that was just a little detail, probably not even worth a second thought. But to Peter, it was an invitation, or perhaps a key, even just for a second to get into your life. To know every little thing about you

Unfortunately, though, that's not enough.

He felt his hands shaking as he opened the drawer in his desk to reveal a small trove of hidden treasures; poorly taken pictures of you from a distance, bits of paper that you had thrown away during math class, and a small stash of hair strands that he meticulously collected from your hair comb when you weren't looking

This was love, wasn't it? The desperate consuming desire to be around her, to know everything about you.

And tomorrow, he shall get his chance.

You invited him, but Peter just knew it was really more than what you would ever willingly give.

His love was a web, and you were stepping into it, one delicate thread at a time.

Peter stood outside your house with a crumpled piece of paper clutched in his rather sweaty hand. The address on it was correct, but doubt clouded him. What if she had forgotten about this meeting? What if this was simply a joke? No, she would never do that, he tried to convince himself

Peter Parker was standing at your porch. Each thump of his heart sounded like one of the drums in the music club. He raised his hand to knock, hesitating for a moment. Maybe it was a terrible idea to come here after all; he could fake being sick, sending her an apology while rescheduling. Just then, the door swung open before he even had the chance to run.

"Hey, you found my house, I actually thought you would get lost cause I wrote the wrong color of the rooftop on the note" you said while stepping aside to let him enter.

"I was actually hesitant to knock, because it didn't look like the description" He quietly said. You actually got everything right, I was just being a huge pussy so I didn't come immediately, he thought to himself.

"Come in. I have started working on the diagram."

Peter plasted a grin and forced his legs down inside. "Well, look at you. Overachieving already. I guess I'll just sit back and let you do all the hard work."

You rolled your eyes and laughed, your voice making him feel that the world wasn't so bad after all. "Nice try, Parker. Grab a marker. You're on label duty."

"Come on, we can work in the dining area," you said, leading him across the house.

The dining table was already loaded with supplies, with textbooks scattered everywhere, colored pencils, sheets of poster paper, you name it. You positioned herself and gestured to him to join you.

You fell into a rhythm, your hand sketching the parts of the circulatory system while Peter scrawled out the labels in his neatest handwriting. He cracked jokes every few minutes, drawing out your laughter like a lifeline. It would be so easy to lose himself in the moment, pretend that you both were just two friends hanging out and not a guy hopelessly infatuated with someone who didn't even know half the truth about him.

Both of you had a relatively smooth first hour of working, few questions were asked here and there on the project. Peter kept his answers short, being extra cautious with what to share, but it seemed you did not mind. You sketched diagrams, jotting down notes with an ease that made Peter's hands tremble every time he made an attempt to help.

"So Peter," you suddenly announced after the silence, "why is it that you don't talk very much? At school I mean"

The question staggered him, rendering him blank while the colored pencil just hovered above the page.

Peter jerked up his head and looked surprised. "What do you mean? Talking is what I do. I mean, there's even people begging me to stop."

You smirked but didn't let it down. "I mean really, you're funny but I know nothing about you. What's your thing, Peter Parker?"

He didn't answer immediately but fiddled with the marker. "I'm just… some guy. Pretty boring, honestly. Not much to tell."

Your expression softened, "I don't buy that. You're not boring".

Your words made Peter's chest tighter. He wanted to believe you, yet the voice at the back of his mind reminded how wrong youwere. If you only knew the real him, the guy who had spent countless nights staring at your window, memorizing your every move, you wouldn't be smiling and sitting here before him.

"Hey, don't overthink it. You're cool. Let's just finish this masterpiece, okay?" you said, flicking his arm before he could answer.

Peter smiled forcedly

And when they finished the day's work, you walk him to the door once more, your smile as warm as ever.

"Thanks for coming over," you said. "You're actually a pretty decent partner, Parker."

"Decent?!" Peter gasped, clutching his chest in mock offense. "Wow. Don't hold back; tell me how you really feel."

And you laughed, shaking your head. "I'll see you tomorrow."

Peter waved. You waved back at him, as he strolled down the street, but he did not go very far. Instead, he found himself across the street in the same place, hidden under the shadow of the oak tree.

you were in your living room again, curled around a blanket and a pillow as you watched whatever was on your screen, your face glowing softly from the light of the television. Peter leaned against the tree with both hands shoved in his jacket pockets and simply watched.

How long he'd been there, he couldn't tell, but he didn't want to leave. This was the closest he ever felt with you, even if you didn't know he was here.

He knew this was crossing the line, but he couldn't help himself. He found himself sneaking into your house. Now he really felt like a robber trying to intrude a home, expect he wasn't really going to steal anything, or so he thought.

It was late at night, you and your family were already asleep at this point

Peter knew that the right thing to do was to head home. He knew for sure that this crossed a line even he wasn't sure he could come back from. But before he could stop himself, he was moving, slipping across the street and into the shadows of your yard.

His palms were slick with sweat as he scanned the side of the house. The metal trellis leading up to your window wasn't very solid, but it would hold him if he was careful.

He carefully climbed the trellis, not putting too much weight on it. And his heart was pounding as he got to your window, his fingers brushing against the cool glass.

It wasn't locked.

At that moment, his body froze. The rational part of him screamed to stop, to climb back down and pretend this never happened. But then his hand was on the window. And that soft sound of it sliding open seemed to be deafeningly loud in the stillness of the night.

He slipped into his feet and landed silently on the carpeted floor. Your room smelled of lavender and something warm and sweet like vanilla. A little bit of moonlight filtered through the curtains and brightened the room in pale silver.

There she was

You laid curled up in your bed, the blankets pulled up to your shoulders, your face peaceful in sleep. Peter’s breath caught in his throat. You looked so serene, so utterly perfect, that it made his chest ache.

He stood there for what felt like an eternity, just watching you. He wasn’t sure what he was expecting to feel—satisfaction, maybe, or relief. But all he felt was a strange mix of awe and guilt.

This was wrong.

He knew it.

But he couldn’t bring himself to leave.

He looked around your room, it was full of polaroids of either you or your friends.

He started walking around your room quietly, careful to not wake you up in your slumber, because God knows what will happen if you saw him in your room with all its glory, he couldn't even imagine the disgust on your face.

But one thing caught his eye

Your bathroom was open, and in your bathroom was a basket with what he assumed inside were dirty laundry.

He knew it was disgusting, heck, over the top creep award would probably go to him, but he found himself walking towards the bathroom. It was wrong, but he still did it, he needs to get help, he thought to himself.

One second ago he was walking towards your bathroom, next thing you knew he was rummaging through your dirty laundry, occasionally smelling some of your shirts. He cherished the way your scent overwhelmed his nose, he was in Cloud 9.

While he was rummaging, a little piece of clothing caught his eye. With shaky hands he picked up the piece of clothing, it was your pink underwear with little cherries scattered everywhere as design.

He brought it near to his nose. He suddenly sat down in the neat cold tiles of the bathroom floor, he smelt it as if it was his oxygen.

He let out a small moan. He didn't know if it was an invisible force making him do such things, but he found his hands unbuttoning his pants

Peter Parker sat in the rest room; hand clasped tight around the lacy edge of the pink panty. He took out his hardened length of his boxers. The scent of dirty panties wafted his nose.

He imagined you wrapped around his throbbing cock, he thought of the feeling of your tight little pussy riding his cock, he wanted the sweet nectar from your lips, while having a feast on your quivering hole. His cock throbbed in his palms, his hands were much faster now, stroking his hardened cock. He had to bite his tongue to keep himself from moaning

Why was he doing this? You were literally there, outside the bathroom, sleeping. And Peter was here, out in the open, jerking off to the smell of your used panties

He was drenched in sweat as his hairs stuck to his wet forehead. He fantasized about your perky tits; perfect little nipples erect in anticipation. Pumping the shaft rapidly, imagining you on all fours begging for more, the bounce of your tits while riding him moaning his name like a mantra, Peter, fuck Peter, Peter, oh my God!

Peter was breathing heavily, his release was near, he profusely pumped his manhood, his hands and cock covered in his sticky pre-cum.

He wanted to feel you inside him, want you to quiver in pleasure as he fucks you over and over again.

He felt a sudden wave of pleasure hitting him, before he knew it, he released a flooded torrent of jizz into sticky cum as it scattered all over the floor. He slumped against the wall, heaving as he tried to steady his racing heart. He looked outside the door, finding you in the same spot as you were. You were sleeping oh so peacefully

He gazed at you, his heart full of unfulfilled yearning. He desperately wanted to be part of your world, to be someone you chose to let in. Yet no matter how many jokes he made or how close you seemed; he knew deep in his heart that he was not enough.

A soft sound broke the silence.

Peter's eyes snap to the bed, and his stomach lurch at the realization that you were stirring. Your brows knitted, your breathing started shifting, just as if you were going to wake up.

He immediately threw your panties back into the basket as he stood up and fixed his underwear and pants

He felt panic surging him, he immediately sprinted near the window. It made a loud a thud, now he was fucked

He moved quickly and quietly without thinking as he quietly ran towards the window. Just as you were about to opene your eyes, he slipped stealthily past the fluttering of curtains.

He tried scrambling down the trellis and found the ground, shivering and shaking as he did so.

He was hidden in a shadow corner, looking up towards your window. You were sitting up now, rubbing your eyes and looking around your room with a sleepy confusion.

Peter's chest tightened.

What's the matter with him?

He hurried as he turned away, his footsteps quiet against the pavement

The cool night air wrapped around Peter Parker like a cold, suffocating blanket as he walked back toward his house. Each step seemed to slant further and further as if his sneakers were scuffing wet against the cracked pavement in a slow and deliberate rhythm.

It was as if the world had gone still—entirely quiet. No cars were heard, no distant chatter, no hum of the city. Just Peter, the quiet whistle of wind through leaves, and the pounding thuds of his thoughts.

With that, he shoved his hands deep into his jacket pockets, his fingers curling into tight fists. Replaying the scene, he heard the soft sound of your breathing, the warmth of your room, and the way you stirred in your bed as if you had felt him there.

What the heck are you doing, Parker? He hadn't intended to climb into your room. He hadn't intended for it to get this far. Watching from the shadows was one thing, but tonight… tonight he had crossed a line.

He stopped moving and leaned against the lamppost, his breath escaping him in short, sharp gasps. Above him, the light flickered, shining unevenly across his shadow on the ground.

"This isn't me," he whispered to himself, the voice trembling.

But wasn't it?

Hadn't he been staring at you for years, taking notes while you weren't looking, memorizing all of your movements, laughter, and smiles? He had told himself that it was just harmless admiration from a distance, but now it was clear.

What would you think if you knew?

He sighed, Peter threw back his head and gazed up at the sky. Above him the stars, though cold and distant, seemed on to him— judging him in silence.

With the words of Uncle Ben echoing in his mind, With great power comes great responsibility, Peter winced.

Peter's jaw clamped down. Not great power; not yet. But wasn't all this part of it? Taking responsibility for his actions, owning up to his mistakes before they spiraled uncontrollably out of hand?

It hit him like a gut punch.

He wouldn't ever be able to take it back. Nor would he ever be able to wipe away the fact that he'd violated your space, your privacy, in a way you might never forgive. But he could stop it from going any further. He could ensure that you never found out.

@gloomskulls 2024. DON'T COPY, TRANSLATE OR USE ANY OF MY WORKS HERE OR ANY OTHER WEBSITES. Photos don't belong to me

509 notes · View notes

ariestrxsh · 2 months ago

Text

જ⁀➴ᡣ𐭩 content warning: smut, use of vibrator, degradation, unprotected sex, dumbification, size kink, threesome, dom!matt, dom!chris, sub!reader

જ⁀➴ᡣ𐭩 author's note: this is the second ending i wrote for this fic. enjoy! 🤍

જ⁀➴ᡣ𐭩 summary: chris and matt find a flaw in the bet you made with them, meaning you submit to them.

love potions part two (second ending)

Chris was using your vibrator on you, the same vibrator he'd just found you using on yourself as you laid completely naked downstairs on their couch.

જ⁀➴ᡣ𐭩 Day Fifteen

"I'm tired of you being such a little slut all the time," a shirtless Chris smirked down at you while a shirtless Matt was pinning your wrists above your head.

They had just woken up and come downstairs for breakfast to instead find you, practically begging to be fucked by them both.

You had been getting annoyed at how disciplined the two of them were, ignoring your teasing and not giving into you. It was halfway through No Nut November, and you were doing everything in your power to get into the two boys' heads and make one of them cave on the bet you'd made with them.

"I bet you're both gonna have to go touch yourselves after this, aren't you?" You asked, giving both Matt and Chris a devious smile. You peered down at the way Chris' cock was straining against the cotton fabric of his pants.

"Why would I touch myself when I could just fuck you?" Chris wondered aloud. "Because then you'd lose the bet, and you'd lose No Nut November," you replied between whimpers as the soft buzz of your toy stimulated your clit.

"Well, there's a loophole in the bet you made," Matt replied, tightening his grip on your wrists. "If one of us loses the bet because they fucked you, then the other gets to fuck you after. And so did either of us really lose?" Chris asked, sneering at you.

"I like the way you guys think. Not as dumb as you both look," you responded smugly. "We might both look dumb, but not as dumb as we're about to make you on our cocks," Chris shot back.

Chris turned off the vibrator he held in his hand, tossing it off to the side, and he started to pull down the waistband of his sweats. You watched as his cock sprung out, letting out a gasp at how big it was.

Before you had much more time to react, he was gently running the tip up and down your slick folds. "I knew you wouldn't be able to go a whole month without nutting," you scoffed at his lack of self-control.

"Doesn't matter, sweetheart. I'm still getting what I want," Chris told you as he rested the tip at your entrance and without skipping a beat, he thrust his hips forward, stretching you out as he entered you inch by inch.

You gasped and let out a squeal while you peered up at him wide-eyed. "You love how big it is, don't you?" Chris asked in a sweet voice. You nodded.

"Say it," Chris demanded, dying to hear you compliment the size of his cock. "I love it, Chris. I love how big you are," you whimpered. It had been so long since you'd been properly fucked.

"Take this big dick, you little slut," Chris panted, relishing in the way you gripped around him. He quickly picked up speed, moans pouring from his lips while he plunged his cock into your drooling hole, bucking his hips back and forth and watching the way his member moved in and out of you.

"Fuck," he groaned under his breath, admiring the way his length looked coated in your arousal each time he pulled out before pushing it back in again.

"You like being used by us, don't you?" Matt cooed, running the back of his hand delicately along your flushed cheek. You bit your lip and nodded. "Use your words, princess," Matt softly ordered you. "Yes. I love being used," you whined.

Chris slammed into you over and over, both of them studying the way your tits bounced and admiring the metal jewelery that decorated each of them. Chris reached down and cupped one of your breasts. "So fucking hot," he whispered, running his thumb over your pierced nipple, drawing more pornographic sounds from you as he teased you.

Chris could usually last a long time in bed, but it had been weeks since he'd cum, and it had been weeks of your relentless teasing. He could already feel that familiar feeling in his lower belly quickly building. You could feel the way he throbbed inside of you, begging for relief.

His pretty blue eyes were locked on yours, his expression softening, and the prettiest moans you'd ever heard falling from his full, pink lips. Before he could even make the conscious decision to finish, he was injecting you with his milky, white fluid, his cock twitching as he filled you up.

"Oh my god," he softly whimpered, looking down at the mess he made in your hole. A satisfied smile formed on his fucked out expression as he delivered a few final thrusts, pulling your climax from you as well.

You started to clench around him, your legs shaking, and your eyes rolling back into your head while Matt held you down against the couch, watching the whole scene unfold.

Before you could even recover from the incredible sensation, they were switching spots. Chris' grasp around your wrist was tighter than Matt's had been, and it immediately turned you on again to have him handling you that way.

Matt positioned himself between your legs, pulling out his poor, neglected cock. He wasted no time before he drove his hardness into you, stretching you out once more.

"Oh, fuck," the words passed through your parted lips as Matt rocked his hips back and forth, quickly gaining momentum and chasing sweet release as soon as he entered you.

Matt placed both your legs on his shoulders to gain deeper access, and you both moaned louder as he orchestrated himself further into your pretty pussy. His hands wandered towards your breasts, and he gently squeezed each one.

"You like taking us both, one right after the other, don't you? Fucking slut," Chris smirked down at you. You didn't need to answer. The desperate look on your face said it all.

Matt's cock was extra sensitive after being neglected for so long, and he was already on the tail of his climax after only a few more minutes. His fervent moans filled the room as he peered down at the way he slipped in and out of your drooling slit.

It was too much. He couldn't take it anymore. He started to pulsate inside of you, pumping you full of his seed. His expression was steeped in pleasure, his brows drawn together in an almost-concerned-looking manner, his cheeks flushed and pink, and his jaw hanging slack in awe.

His hooded blue eyes were fixated on your pussy and the way you started rhythmically tightening around him as you finished as well. He studied the mixture of both of your fluids that varnished his pretty cock as he pulled out of you, nearly collapsing from how intense his orgasm felt.

"Fuck," Matt breathlessly whispered, wiping a bead of sweat from his forehead. "We both got to tag team you, and didn't even have to wait until November ended," Chris chuckled, amused with himself for being the one who found the loophole.

You laid beneath them in a puddle of cum and drool after having the sense fucked out of you. You could barely form a thought or a sentence, but you finally mustered up the brain cells to utter the words, "Well played."

#sturniolo triplets #sturniolo smut #sturniolo x reader #matt sturniolo #matt sturniolo smut #matt sturniolo x reader #chris sturniolo #matt sturniolo x you #chris sturniolo smut #chris sturniolo x reader #dom chris sturniolo #dom matt sturniolo #matthew sturniolo smut #matthew sturniolo #christopher sturniolo #christopher sturniolo smut #chris sturniolo x you

654 notes · View notes

candysims4 · 2 years ago

Text

JUPITER SET | PART 2

I'm so excited to share with you the release of this set! On it, you'll find 12 new items for CAS, including a dress, two tops, one short, two pants, four bracelets, and two flats. I named everything after Jupiter's moons, as the first part of the set. Even though there are only 17 moons out of 95, it's already a big set!

As it's too much text, I'll leave the description of each item plus the creator's notes below the cut.

ALL ITEMS ARE:

TEEN TO ELDER

BASE GAME COMPATIBLE

MADE FOR FEMALE FRAME

DISALLOWED FOR RANDOM

THUMBNAILS (HOSTED IN IMGUR)

PATREON EARLY ACCESS + MERGED OPTIONS

Thanks to all the cc creators that I used in the pic. And thanks to @maxismatchccworld, @simblrcollective, @s4library, @wewantmods, and everybody who reblog this post!

If you’re a cc finds and want to be tagged when I post, please, let me know. You can send me an ask or in DM.

With your help, more people can know about my work! 💖 Love you all, XOXO <3

DESCRIPTION OF EACH ITEM:

EUROPA LONG DRESS

4.324 POLYGONS

95 SWATCH COLORS - 55 plain colors - 40 color combinations

YOU WILL FIND IN FULL BODY/LONG DRESS

DIA TOP

3.890 POLYGONS

98 SWATCH COLORS - 55 plain colors - 43 color combinations

YOU WILL FIND IN TOP/TANK TOP

METIS T-SHIRT

3.660 POLYGONS

150 SWATCH COLORS - 55 plain colors - 53 patterned - 42 prints

YOU WILL FIND IN TOP/T-SHIRT

ANANKE SHORTS

1.100 POLYGONS

44 SWATCH COLORS - All plain colors

YOU WILL FIND IN BOTTOM/SHORTS

HIMALIA JEANS

1.102 POLYGONS

44 SWATCH COLORS - All plain colors

YOU WILL FIND IN BOTTOM/JEANS

CARPO LEGGINGS

1.066 POLYGONS

55 SWATCH COLORS - All plain colors

YOU WILL FIND IN BOTTOM/LEGGINGS OR/AND ACCESSORIES/TIGHTS

KALYKE BRACELET

1.868 POLYGONS

50 SWATCH COLORS - 15 single colors - 35 color combinations

YOU WILL FIND IN ACCESSORIES/WRIST (RIGHT)

KALE BRACELETS

2.246 POLYGONS

65 SWATCH COLORS - 15 single colors - 50 color combinations

YOU WILL FIND IN ACCESSORIES/WRIST (LEFT)

CARME BRACELET

228 POLYGONS

10 SWATCH COLORS - All plain colors

YOU WILL FIND IN ACCESSORIES/WRIST (RIGHT)

SINOPE BRACELETS

912 POLYGONS

48 SWATCH COLORS - All color combinations

YOU WILL FIND IN ACCESSORIES/WRIST (LEFT)

AMALTHEA FLATS

778 POLYGONS

55 SWATCH COLORS - All plain colors

YOU WILL FIND IN SHOES/FLATS

EIRENE FLATS

510 POLYGONS

55 SWATCH COLORS - All plain colors

YOU WILL FIND IN SHOES/FLATS

CREATOR'S NOTES:

This set really is something I'm very proud of. Each piece in this set is special to me, and I can't wait to see how you all style them in your Sims. I'm anxious to add them to as many of my Sims as possible. You will see them in future previews and photos. haha

Now let's talk about the items, starting with the Europa Long Dress and Dia Top, the most challenging pieces to create. Still, I'm so happy with how they turned out. The crochet texture and colors are simply stunning! My idea for them was to make it very casual for summer or hot days, as charming and detailed as possible.

The Metis T-Shirt is the most versatile piece! You can get it in plain colors, patterns, and prints; note that all prints are in Simlish or Sims-Themed. I love them all, not only because I have designed some of them, and they turned out exactly as I wanted! But seriously, this top is perfect for many occasions and outfits. I tried my best to make the swatches diverse to make it possible to use them in various Sims/outfits without repeating or only fitting better in more styles/occasions.

The Himalia Jeans and Ananke Shorts are both so cute!!! I especially love the heart buttons and metal pieces. These bad boys were tricky to draw as they're pixel art, and I'm the worst at it. But luckily, they look adorable at the end. I usually don't do pants/shorts with pockets, and maybe now I'll start to do more often as I really enjoyed these four pockets on both.

The Carpo Leggings are super easy to style! They're perfect for so many different occasions and outfits. I liked them especially in everyday and athletic outfits. Plus, there's a second version of them in the tights category for even more styling options.

The Kale Bracelets and Kalyke Bracelets are inspired by the beaded bracelets from the 2000s. They're simple yet beautiful and come in various color combinations. They can really make any outfit stand out!

The Carme Bracelet is the most elegant piece but also easy to use in casual outfits. Comes in ten metallic colors and a minimalist design, making it a versatile accessory to match any outfit.

The Sinope Bracelets are so practical and versatile! They're perfect for dressing up a casual or athletic outfit or even a pajama outfit. The scrunchie and hair ties combination is convenient and trendy at the same time.

The Amalthea Flats and Eirene Flats are both comfortable and easy to wear. They're perfect for adding a touch of style to any outfit.

Yet, creating this set took a lot of time and effort. I wanted everything to be perfect and had to redraw some components multiple times to achieve it. Plus, I'm used to releasing less content at once. It made me realize I'm not fast enough to do 12 items in one week, but with more practice may be possible in the future. Perhaps if I don't do too many swatches per item could be possible. Metis T-Shirt, for example, has 150 .dds files, and it took a lot of time to do that I could have used to make another shirt or cc. But it's a choice of mine, as I enjoy many options for each item for more variety. I like to always try adding as many as possible. Even not having as many as I wanted, I'm still thrilled with the result and worthed any second I have spent on it, not only in this shirt but the whole set.

I am thinking of doing a poll to see what you guys prefer, more items with fewer swatches or, as it's right now, as many swatches as possible and fewer items.

I'm sorry it took me a little longer to release this new cc. I hope you'll like this set, and it was worth the wait! XOXO

3K notes · View notes

pomefioredove · 5 months ago

Note

Can I pretty please have The housewardens (Plus Ruggie and Rook) with a kawaii metal singer? Like soft feminine voice and cutesy outfits and then on stage is just death screaming and gets embarrassed because apparently "Guys find it embarrassing when fem people metal scream."

interesting... I'll see what I can do!

*ੈ��‧₊˚ kawaii metal singer

type of post: headcanons characters: riddle, leona, ruggie, azul, kalim, vil, rook, idia, malleus additional info: romantic or platonic, reader is gender neutral but implied feminine in the way they dress, reader is not specified to be yuu

imagine having a conversation about music with Riddle

he's pleasantly surprised!

he thought he had nothing in common with you

but you're a musician!

to him, mastering an instrument is akin to mastering a subject or acing an exam

and he'll talk your ear off about his favorite composers and concertos

of course, he's curious about what you play

so, you show him a song

and he's...

...well...

it's... music, he supposes

it takes the same skill to play (perhaps even more?) so he's still impressed. just... surprised!

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

Leona's reaction? yawn

a musician is just like a theater kid with a weapon

based on the way you dress, he can already guess

piano? pop? wannabe indie?

undoubtedly something upbeat and fast

that he has no interest in

it's not until he starts hearing the whispers that he gives it a second thought

funny enough, it's the other boy's dislike that draws him in

and, oh, was he wrong

the first time Leona hears you screaming, he's smitten

you've got some voice on you, that's for sure

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

Ruggie already associates femininity with strength

(whether you're girl or not, mind you)

so, he's not really taken aback or 'nothin

you show him a clip of one of your performances, and his reaction is more like:

"Cool. Nice chords. What's for dinner?"

he knows that not everyone is gonna see it that way

but to him, it's nothing to write home about

...unless he thinks you're gonna be a good provider for him

then he might tell his grandma he's bringing you home for break

"How much do you singers make, anyway?"

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

now, Azul was captivated from the start

when Jade came back to him with intel on you, he wasn't expecting you to be a singer

how intriguing...

Azul is a musical person himself, so, of course he was curious

but it's not until he tries to strike a deal with you that he realizes he was very, very wrong

your voice in exchange for anything you desire...

...and you start laughing at him

"my voice? do you know what I sing?"

Azul is a little taken aback by your reaction

now, what's so funny?

eventually, you share a little of your work, and he...

...well, he's impressed, that's for sure

it takes a lot of vocal training to be able to do that

but unless Floyd takes up a new hobby, he has no use for a metal singer's voice

so, for now, he'll simply admire your talent from afar

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

People tend to see Kalim as this witless little flower who can't be exposed to anything "scary"

and, sure, he can be naive at times

but it actually takes a lot to freak him out

he's also been hanging out with Lilia Vanrouge for two years, so, you know

he'd just be impressed, if anything

"Wow, that's so cool! I wish I could do that, but my voice can't go that high, and Jamil doesn't want me to hurt my throat..."

I mean, really impressed

he'll beg you to show him all of your songs

and he might try to get you to one of his club meetings, too

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

Vil is more like,

"Well, I hope you're taking adequate care of your throat. You'll overexert yourself if not,"

...so, no

he's not even phased by it

Vil is a performer himself, after all

he's more concerned with your physical and mental wellbeing than you being "embarrassing"

the next day, he'll show up at your door with an armful

this is for your throat, this will keep your skin from drying out under the lights, this foundation is designed for stage...

he's always been generous, after all

and he certainly won't accept no for an answer

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

similarly, Rook doesn't think anything of it

he's simply taken by you

...your devotion, your energy, your heart!

sometimes he, too, feels like screaming for his passions!

you can expect him to be your number one fan

and be at each of your performances, whether small or big, on stage or just in your room

(whether you know he's there or not)

he always seems to know just what to get you, though. tea with honey? salt water for your throat?

he's thought of it before you even have to ask

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

Idia is fangirling over it before he even meets you

listen, in his defense-

one of his favorite animes is about a kawaii metal singer!

and he was already familiar with the genre, anyway

so... no, it's not weird to him

if anything, he feels weird for never being able to talk to you about it

it's basically like talking to one of his idols IRL

whether you're a well-known performer or just make videos online is irrelevant to him

you'll be receiving a lot of anonymous donations from someone named gloomurai

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

when Lilia makes an offhand comment about your music, Malleus is intrigued

you'd never mentioned being a musician, after all

the next time you see each other, he asks

but, much to his confusion, you seem... embarrassed?

he quickly explains he only heard it from Lilia, and didn't mean to offend you, and-

ah...

that's why you're embarrassed?

you think he won't like you because others have said it's unbecoming?

humans are so strange, he thinks

it's only music, after all. it'd take much more to make him dislike you

besides, this is Lilia's foster son we're talking about. he's been exposed to every genre at least once

#twisted wonderland x reader #twst x reader #queued #riddle rosehearts x reader #leona kingscholar x reader #ruggie bucchi x reader #azul ashengrotto x reader #kalim al asim x reader #vil schoenheit x reader #rook hunt x reader #idia shroud x reader #malleus draconia x reader

575 notes · View notes

buckyalpine · 8 months ago

Text

I'm here for some angst and fluff rn. Bucky being sad no one trusts him after his metal arm is taken off during a fight.

Bucky stared at the dark grey metal that fell to the floor with a clank, his vibranium arm no longer attached to his body with just a few pushes to his joint. The fight ended, leaving the soldier lost as he picked his arm off the floor, fingers trembling around the cold material. It felt dead in his hand, the emotional weight of it far heavier than anything else he'd ever carried.

"Did you know they could do that?" Sam asked, eyeing Bucky carefully while he locked his arm in place, readjusting it with a swing. The gold plates shifted to recalibrate, his fingers flexing while trying to silence his thoughts that begin to run a million miles a minute.

"No"

Bucky trudged down the hall, his heart sinking when he could hear the soft humming from inside his apartment, his sweet girl already waiting for him to come home. He usually felt the weight of the world life off his shoulders when you were around.

Not today.

Not when he knew what he really was.

What he had been all along.

He let out a strained breath before rummaging for his keys and opening the door, the smell of tea, sugar and vanilla wafting through the kitchen and living room. He thought about escaping as soon as he toed his boots off, locking himself in the shower and calling it an early night, of course you'd understand but his body won over what his mind was screaming.

Your face lit up as soon as you heard the door creak open, setting down the book you were reading, excited to see Bucky after he'd been gone for days for a mission. Your happiness was short lived as he padded into the living room, the strained smile on his face doing nothing to mask the pain he was feeling. You could see the turmoil in his eyes, waves of emotion crashing over him before he could surface.

"What's wrong, bub" You coo softly, opening your arms for him. Bucky kept his jacket on, avoiding melting into your hold even though he craved it more than ever.

"Do people still think I'm dangerous?" He asks quietly, shifting away from you when he feels you pressed against his arm. Something so soft and sweet as you definitely didn't have any business being near something so terrible, disgusting, murderous-

"What? No baby, why would you say that?" Your heart breaks at the tears that begin to well in his eyes, his nose and cheeks reddening as he suppresses all the emotions that desperately want to bubble over.

"I-I had no idea others would be able to remove it" He whispers, chewing his lip till he nearly draws blood, avoiding your gaze to stare at the floor instead. The fluffy rug turns blurry as tears begin to escape, his throat growing unbearably tight. "M'still a monster" His voice cracks before the first cry slips out.

Your pull him into your chest as sobs begin to wrack his body, letting him lay on you while you wrap him safely in your arms. The feeling of your affection is too much for Bucky, he doesn't deserve it but he needs it; he feels selfish as he allows you to hold him, hiding his face into the crook of your neck.

"What happened, sweet boy" You coo against his hair, running your fingers through his soft locks. He continued to sniffle between whimpers, trying to calm down, fresh waves of emotion holding him down, his metal arm gripping onto the sofa cushions.

His arm was dangerous.

He was dangerous.

"During a fight" Bucky let out a shuddered breath before continuing, shame seeping through his veins. What would you think of him if you knew the people who had healed him still didn't trust him, "We were trying to calm things down. I didn't mean to do anything-I didn't-I was holding back, we wanted to talk things over, she-"

He bit his lip again as it trembled, still feelings the spots that were pushed, sending his arm to the floor, "I didn't even know what was happening. She hit my shoulder in a few spots and my arm fell right off"

You stopped your ministrations, your heart breaking into two hearing the pain in his voice. Bucky sounded so small, like an admonished child scared to tell the truth. He curled himself up further, still flexing his fingers, almost fearful his arm would fall off again without warning. You moved your arms to hug him tighter, wishing you could take away at least half the pain his was feeling.

"I didn't know they could do that" He said with defeat, still softly sniffling while you kissed the top of his head.

"You're not a monster baby" You knew how much work Bucky had put in, how much he struggled to get a hold of his mind again, how long it took for him to learn to trust others, to trust himself.

"Then why" You knew he was desperate hearing the plead in his voice. Why. Why did others still have control over his own body. Why were others still able to do things to him without his knowledge.

Why?

"I wish they'd told you why, baby boy" You brought your hand to gently tip his chin up, making him look at you, "Perhaps they have their reasons. Regardless, your heart is pure, Bucky" Your hands moved under his jacket and tshirt, stroking his bare skin, the feel of your pure hands already soothing his aching heart.

"They don't trust me" He sighed, sitting up again as his mind swirled. You didn't let him spiral for long, straddling his lap while his arms moved on their own to wrap around your waist.

"They do, bub" you shook your head, cupping his cheeks so he'd look at you. "They took you in and healed you because you were worth healing. You deserved it. I need you to remember my sweet Sergeant James Buchanan Barnes is a good man. The opposite of dangerous, a soft, sweet boy"

"Do-do you trust me" His voice was small again, looking at you through his lashes, nervously fidgeting with the hem of the Henley you'd stolen.

"I trust you with my life, Bucky" You took his metal hand, brushing your lips against the gold ridges before kissing each of his cool finger tips. "Every single part of you. Your mind. Your body. All of it"

The mental exhaustion of the day began to take it's toll as his eyes grew heavy, cuddling into you while you rocked him in a comfortable silence. You smiled at the soft snores you heard moments later as Bucky fell asleep in your arms.

"Let's get you to bed, baby" you whispered, gently waking him and taking a quick warm shower before jumping into bed. He was right back in your arms as soon as you pulled the sheets back, the grating voices not so loud any more.

Regardless of what the world though, had you.

A pure sweet angel.

She trusted him.

That had to mean something.

It would be a long road of healing but at least his had his angel to guide him.

978 notes · View notes

gloxk · 1 year ago

Text

Think she grippin’ on my dick but that’s my gun baby~

(Eren Y.)

A/n: Lil sum sum— srry fa neglecting yall. My schedule is so fuckkkkkeedd. But, I got sum more ‘plug’ eren comin up for my luvz. Anyway I hope yall enjoy this my luvz🫶🏽!

Synopsis: First link w Eren Yeager after not seeing him in a long time. ♥︎

Warning (s): Gun kink , dirty talk, Eren talking you through it, Mentions of drugs, riding an inanimate object, f/m, Uhm like reader calls him sir? Pet names, Needy s*x, Smut, ovi. girl yk the deal 17+ around here!

━━━━━━━♥︎━━━━━━━

You kicked your feet while biting your bottom lip, “Yeah, I know you miss me, baby.” You cheesed at his comments. Eren knew exactly what to say, his words were so sweet and slick. “Of course I miss you ren. When you gon come see me?” You heard his music blaring through his speakers. This boy really had you thinking about him every second of the day and night. “Whatchu mean? I’m outside right now ma.” You nearly took flight running down to the front door. It felt like time was nothing more than a mere interference with your speed. You swung your door open , your smile instantly dropped looking at your empty driveway “Fucking asshole, you lied.” He cackled as if you said something funny. “Nah I’m here.” He flicked his head lights grabbing your attention, you forgot his car was completely black. You didn’t understand why he would make his Hellcat so dark. Didn’t he want people to see it?

You smiled seeing him get out of his car, he looked so fucking fine in his Nike tech. To say you were nervous was an understatement, you were terrified. Knees nearly buckled as Eren approached the door. You gulped back your salvia, it felt like swallowing a golf ball. “Heyyy baby.” His lips met your cheek, it’s been so long since you saw Eren. His voice held a sweet tang and a long draw to it. His fragrance was a mix of Dior Sauvage and Backwoods. His eyes spoke for themselves; red and low. “Eren—are you high?” you pulled his face closer to yours. Examining his eyes—yeah, he was fucking hammered. “When am I not?” He flashed his pearly whites, you always wonder how he got his teeth so nice and white. If perfection was a human it had to be him, there was no visible flaw within that man. “You gonna smoke your brain away if you keep it up.” You closed the door and walked with him up to your bedroom. Eren looked at you with a soft expression, his eyes locked on to yours. “Aww, you care about me, baby? Fine, I guess I have no choice but to do as you wish.”He jokingly replied. Eren didn’t have many people who cared for him, so it was nice to know you were one of the very few.

Eren found himself in your bed once again, he nuzzled into your neck while a basic Netflix movie played. He wasn’t particularly interested in the movie, and you were aware of this. But he acted like he was excited to watch it. Your hands ran over his thigh grazing over his dick. Fingertips wrapping around it. “Damn Ren, you must be very happy to see me huh?” you giggle sinking into your bed lining. Eren's dark jade eyes met yours, the lower part of his face was covered by his hand. Unbeknownst to you, he had a new hand tattoo; a skeleton face—damn he looked fine. “That ain’t my dick, that’s my gun baby.” He laid on his back, his shirt slightly lifting revealing the weapon. You couldn’t resist wrapping your fingers around the handle of his gun; it was calling your name. You held it in your hand admiring the weapon, it alone held the power to remove a soul from this world.

“You like it?” he took the gun away from your grasp. He parted your thighs placing the cold metal against your cunt. “Yes sir.” You bit your lip at the sheer cold touching you. The hairs on your neck stood up, it was so dangerous, it turned you on. He slid your panties over letting the blistering cold metal meet your pussy. The gun started at a gentle pace, moving slowly against your clit. Erens lips occupied your neck; kissing and sucking it. His tongue lightly brushed over your collarbone, you felt his tongue piercing glide against your skin. You rutted hard against his gun trying to relieve the built-up pressure in your abdomen. You didn’t want his gun, you wanted him. You wanted him to fuck you silly until you could no longer comprehend your surroundings. “Fuucck, I need more ren, I need you.” The gun hastily left your thighs. “I need you too ma.” His mouth met his glock licking your slick off of it. Eren's lips pressed firmly together creating a ‘mmm’ sound. He got on top of you pressing his chest against yours. You felt his bulge through his sweatpants, his dick was begging to be left free. He pulled his sweat pants down, just below his crotch panel. Your fingertips slipped under his elastic waistband; tugging his boxers downwards. His dick pounced out, an angry red color washed over his tip. “Fuck, it’s been too long.” He stroked his dick letting the bead of pre cum coat his tip. Eren slid inside inch by inch, he grunted feeling your heat. “Damn baby, I ain’t fuck you good in a minute huh? You miss this dick?” You nodded quickly, yes—you missed everything about him. His hand wrapped around your mouth looking at his tattoo covering your face. It turned him on seeing it on you— whether his hand was around your throat, mouth, or ass. It always looked so perfect on you.

Eren tugged your shirt up watching your tits bounce as he pounded into you. You tried to push him away from overstimulating your cunt “Nah, This what you wanted right? Take this dick.” He grabbed your legs and threw them over his shoulder, he fucked you faster making you scream out. You could have sworn you put holes in the sheets because you were gripping them so tightly. You threw your head back clenching around Erens cock. Your body jolted at your release, finally letting go of that pressure you once had. “Ahh- fuck-“ you moaned while subtly grinding against his abdomen. His pace faltered, but not ending, Eren didn’t stop fucking you until he came all over your stomach. By then you were already on your third orgasm. He positioned himself beside you kissing your neck while tracing circles on your arm. “I know you love that shit.” He sighed, he was a fool for you as you were for him. He loved looking at your fucked out expression knowing he was the reason you looked like that.

“Mhm, I do, I really fucking do.” He grabbed his gun again setting it down on your chest, “That’s my favorite gun now, ima get your name carved in it.” That gun will forever be by his side from now on.

━━━━━━━♥︎━━━━━━━

4 my whores.

#eyena writes♡#eren jeager smut #eren jeager x reader #eren smut #eren x black fem!reader #eren x black reader #eren x reader #eren x y/n #eren x you #eren yeager

2K notes · View notes

honey-on-your-tongue · 5 months ago

Note

Sfw and nsfw alphabet headcanon for Logan!! PLEASEE

-🌸🌸🌸

I live laugh LOVE this idea omggg

Sfw

A for aware. Logan is always, always, always aware of you, no matter where you are or who you're around, he's making sure you're comfortable and safe and that you know he's there for you if you need anything. And the moment he senses any discomfort from you, he'll get you out and to a safe space <3

B is for baby. The first time he calls you baby, you two are just chilling in the mansion and you playfully ask to see his claws. They amaze you, intrigue you, and you want the opportunity to see them up close for once without him swinging them through someone's neck. He sighs but smils and draws his claws. You grin, fingers tracing the metal. “Careful, you'll cut yourself, baby,” he says. Your eyes snap up to him and a slight blush covers his cheeks. You didn't say anything about the nickname, just kissed his cheek, and he's called you baby since.

C is for cuddles. He may seem like the big, bad wolf, but really? He's super soft when it comes to cuddling with you. He loves to lay down on the couch or the bed, watching TV or just chatting or hanging out, and he always has you close, his legs tangled with yours, his fingers tracing your soft skin be it on your shoulder or your stomach or your thigh, wherever he can touch.

D is for detailed. Logan keeps up the facade that he doesn't care about anything and that he doesn't pay attention, but he's actually hyper-focused. You have a favorite type of flower that you mentioned once? He'll bring them to you again and again for date night. You're bothered by a specific situation or person? He'll make sure to keep you away if he can. And if not, he'll be there for you to hold your hand and reassure you.

E is for embarrassed. Logan is sometimes a little shy about how whipped he is about you. Like, really. He feels like a puppy around you, always keeping his eyes on you, always needing to feel you close. And yes, he's aware he's sometimes got separation anxiety. Especially when you're apart for too long, like when he's gotta go on missions you're not included in :((( but when he comes back, he'll stick to you for hours and refuse to let you go.

F is for fights. He hates fighting with you, hates whenever you're upset at him. He knows it's healthy to disagree, but it frustrates him so much because he's just constantly afraid that you'll get enough of him and leave him. But then after fights, when you two apologize and make up, he'll hold you close and pray to God or whoever is up there and listening that they never take you out of his life.

G is for greedy. So so so greedy. He wants you always, all the time, in too many ways. He can't let go of you, won't ever get over you. He adores you and he can never ever get enough. He wants everything you can offer and more, and sometimes he worries he demands too much. But when you're with him, so willing to love him, he knows it'll be okay.

H is for handsy. Logan's super super super handsy. Whenever, wherever, he's touching you. His hand on your lower back, your hand in his, his arm around your waist. If you're sitting somewhere, he has a hand on your thigh, your head on his shoulder. He's always feeling you next to him because it makes him feel safe.

I is for immature. Not in a bad way, really. Just sometimes he can be very immature. When you get busy, when you don't pay enough attention to him, he'll get pouty and upset, maybe even only grumble every now and then when you try to talk to him. Once you realize what's going on, however, all it takes are a few kisses and hugs and he'll melt in your hands, forgetting any slight.

J is for jealous. C'mon, Logan is crazy jealous, especially because of your age gap. He's worried that maybe those younger guys might someday seem more attractive to you than he is, and that scares him. And when he sees some twenty-something kid eyeing you, he gets pissed. He'll grab you closer, glare at whatever boy is watching you, and then he'll kiss you, maybe groping you a little for good measure. He ensures his message is clear: you're his.

K is for knuckle kisses. He'd never admit it to you, but he loves when you grab his hand and kiss his knuckles, right where his claws come out. There's something about the gesture, so soft and sweet, that makes his heart race and butterflies fill his stomach. He just loves when you show little hints of affection, it kills him in the best way.

L is for the L-word. He's so scared that you won't feel the same way, that when he realizes he loves you, he doesn't say it for almost months. He's terrified of scaring you off. If he lost you, he'd be done for. But one day, it slips out of him and when he sees the way your eyes light up and you smile, he knows you feel it too. And you tell him you love him more than he tells you, but that's just because he doesn't say it. He shows it. At first, he'd say it and nuzzle against your neck as he spoke the words. Now, he nuzzles into your neck and kisses your jaw and says, “You know I do, right?” And of course you know he loves you. He makes it so clear and he's not ashamed to.

M is for mornings. The first morning you wake up in his bed, he's mesmerized. You look so beautiful asleep there, tranquil, happy. So vulnerable, like someone he has to protect from this cold, fucked up world. He will never let anyone hurt you, he'll never leave you alone or in danger. He'll always be there for you, every morning for the rest of your life, if you'll let him.

N is for nights. Nights with Logan are the best. Especially if it's a weekend and neither of you has any work to do. You'll relax while he puts on a movie and makes popcorn, and you'll cuddle while you watch TV. Then, he'll let you put a face mask on, even if it's pink and shiny, because he knows you enjoy it and he also likes doing these things with you. He'll let you give him massages and do a skin routine. And he'll draw a bath and carefully wash you, his fingertips grazing over your skin with reverence. And then you'll go to bed to sleep, (among other things) and he'll hold you close all night long.

O is for ordinary. Logan knows he's a mutant and he's one of the X-men.. There'll never be anything ordinary for him. Never. But when he's with you on a tranquil morning and you two are lazying around or he cooks for you and you walk up and hug him, he thinks that maybe someday, you two could have a simple, domestic life. You and him, a picket fence, maybe kids if you want. He feels like maybe he deserves that kind of ordinary life, and he knows he wants it with you. Only you.

P is for period. When you're on your period, Logan is the sweetest, most caring man ever. He'll buy you whatever you're craving. He'll let you stay in bed, wearing his shirt and a pair of his boxers. He'll bring you pills if you need them and warming pads. He'll spend all day with you, babying you, making sure you don't lift a single finger. Not when he's around.

Q is for quandary. Logan isn't a big love man. He isn't used to relationships and he isn't sure about how to manage one. Especially when he's with you because you're so sweet, you're so young. He'd hate to break your heart or hurt you in any way, and he's terrified whenever he realizes how serious things are getting with you. He'll have a few panic attacks when he overthinks it. And one day, when he finally admits to you that he's not sure how to love, you smile softly and tell him, “Me either. I kind of just go with it.” And there. Right there, he knows you're the one.

R is for ring. Yes, ring. It's hidden in his closet, in a corner far away where you'll never find it. He never thought he'd be the type to marry and settle down, but the idea constantly haunts him every time he sees you. And now he knows, you're the one for him. All he's struggling to do is figure out how to propose. Should it be all fancy and well planned? Or spontaneous, when all the love he feels for you just gets the best of him? He's still not sure, but he knows he doesn't want to let a single month pass without asking if he can be your husband.

S is for safe. He's always alert, always on edge. But around you, his guard is down. For once, he's living in the moment, just enjoying the time he's spending with you, not worrying about whatever may be going out in the world. You're his safe space and he adores it. Whenever he comes home from a mission, stressed and on edge and upset, he'll just get back to the mansion, go into your room and lay in your arms. He'll let you hold him, make everything that happened go away until he's at peace. Until it seems like the world isn't gonna end the next day. Until your love consumes him.

T is for true. True because he knows how you feel about him is real. There are so many people that want something from him. But not you. No. You accept all of him. His mistakes, his flaws, his strengths, all of it. You just accept him. And what's more, you love him for it. And he knows how you feel is real. He knows you only want him. And it's the kind of love he's been looking for his entire life, the kind he can't ever live without, the kind he'll never let go.

U is for unwavering. Logan's love for you is unwavering. There is nothing, nothing you could do to make him stop loving you. For starters, he's a very bad man, much worse than you could ever be. The things he's done...And yet you love him. Compared to him, you're a saint. And it's so easy to love you. So easy. He sometimes feels it's unfair to you because it must be more difficult to love him. Still, he's extremely grateful for you and he knows nothing and no one will ever make him stop loving you.

V is for vulnerable. Logan's walls are made of steel. He never, ever opens up to anyone. He hides his emotions, expresses everything only through anger. But you make him vulnerable. You can read him like a book, there's no point in hiding anything from you, so he's found out it's easier to just open up to you. And he's surprised to feel...relieved. When he talks to you, his shoulders feel lighter. He's not as angry, not as mean. You make him a better person, and he loves you a lot for it.

W is for worship. The way Logan treats you is damn near to worship. He takes care of you like you're a goddess, a divine being he's not worthy of. But he tries his best. He cooks for you, he pays for everything if you let him. He'll take you out on dates, put his jacket on your shoulders, carry you if you two have gone dancing and your feet hurt. He sees you as a deity and he loves you. He worships you and he will continue for the rest of his days if you allow him to.

X marks the treasure. He's not sure what he did to deserve you, what superior power decided to put him in your path. He's even more amazed you're into him too. You're his treasure. He feels like he's been wandering around aimlessly until he ran into you. Until he found you, his treasure, his love. You're all he's ever needed.

Y is for you. You perfect, sweet, smart, young thing. You're gorgeous. You're funny. You're everything any guy would ever want. And you chose him? Him, out of all people? He can't believe it. He's not sure he ever will, but he's always grateful. You are his world. You are his everything. His motivation and his patience and his safe space. You're his life, his universe. Without you, there is nothing.

Z is for zeroed. Ever since he met you and you two started dating, Logan's entire perspective has shifted. Now, everything he does and thinks is zeroed in on you. You and your needs and how to make you happy. You're what gets him through every mission, what gets him out of bed in the morning. He feels like you give his life meaning. And that's not something he's ever gonna lose.

Nsfw

A is for addict. Because that's how Logan feels about you. Whenever he fucks you, when your pretty pussy is wet and clenched around his cock, he knows he'll never get enough. He knows only you'll make him feel this way and that he's going to start fucking you more often if he doesn't wanna lose his goddamned mind.

B is for breasts because Logan loves yours. He knows sometimes you feel insecure because they're not like this or they're like that, but he's never seen a prettier pair of tits on anyone. Yours are perfect. He can suck on them, bite them, nuzzle into them all day and still want more. And when he comes on them? Fuck. That's heaven right there for him.

C is for cockwarming. I imagine it would go like this. Really, Logan loves feeling your cunt around his cock. He loves seeing you squirm as you ache for the pleasure only he can give you. It sends his ego through the roof. Plus, he's just a man, how is he gonna resist you looking so beautiful and desperate on his cock?

D is for dacryphilia. One of his favorite things to do is fuck you for hours, slow and deep, making you come over and over and over again until you're crying from the ecstasy. He loves seeing you so weak, so vulnerable for him, so unashamed to show him how good he makes you feel. There's nothing better for him than when he sees those tears of ecstasy in the corners of your eyes and he knows he's doing a good job.

E is for endurance. Logan's healing ability also means that his body doesn't wear out as quick. So he can go for hours, literally fuck you an entire night without breaking so much as a sweat. You may be weak, panting, almost sobbing with pleasure, but he'll keep going until you tell him to stop. He'll fuck you dumb just because he can.

F is for “Fuck!”. That deep, low rumble that leaves his lips when he comes. Or the way he says it in your ear as he slides his cock into you. And when he sees you wearing some skimpy outfit, he'll murmur it under his breath. It's his go-to word, really, whenever you do or say or make him feel something that blows his mind.

G is for g-spot. Logan considers you to be a very knowledgeable woman in regards to your sexual pleasure. That's why he's surprised when, one day as he's fingering you and he curls his fingers against that spongy spot, your body convulses and you gasp, asking him what he did. So now, he redoubles his efforts when he fucks you, making sure his cock rubs your g-spot just how you like it, and he enjoys teaching you about the pleasures of that particular spot. But also, G is for guilt. You gorgeous, perfect, young thing. What are you doing with him? He's fucked up. Broken. A whole fucking mess. And you still love him. He feels guilty about it, as if he's stealing your life away. But when you look at him with those precious eyes and he sees the love in them, he knows he must be doing something right to deserve an angel like you.

H is for hickeys. Hickeys everywhere. If you've been with Logan, everyone's gonna know. He leaves hickeys where others can't see—the swell of your ass, your inner thighs, the underside of your tits and between them—but he also leaves them where everyone can see. Your shoulders, your neck, your collarbone. And you wear them with so much pride, it drives him insane. And knowing you have his marks under your clothes? Yeah, he loves leaving hickeys on your perfect body, just a little reminder that you're his.

I is for insatiable. No matter how much he gets, he always wants more. If you two have a couple of free days, it's guaranteed he'll fuck you senseless the entire time. His stamina is impressive, his dedication to your pleasure otherworldly. He can never get enough of you, and he takes more and more each time, always pushing you to your limits and then some.

J is for jealous. So right after he's established that you're his, he'll drag you to the nearest private corner and fuck you. He fucks you hard, rough, deep, making you come as many times as you can until you're weak and sweating and whimpering. He wants you to feel how much he loves you, how much he appreciates you, and he's hoping you'll never ever leave him.

K is for kink exploration. Logan will never, ever shame you for whatever you like. In fact, be quite enjoys learning what you like and, in turn, teaching you, as well as finding out what else you two enjoy. Not only does he feel more connected to you that way, but seeing the look in your eyes when he's doing exactly what you like the way you like it? Jesus, he lives for that.

L is for lingerie. Pretty lacy lingerie, usually tiny skirts and half-cup bras with little bows. He loves seeing you in them, he loves fucking you in them even more. The way you look in them has his mind reeling, and he also adores tearing them off you when you take too long to take them off. He adores it. So much so, that he can spend hundreds of bucks on lingerie he knows he's only gonna tear into pieces a few hours after they're bought.

M is for masturbation. Be it mutual or when you're not around, he likes to fist his cock in his hand and jerk himself while he imagines you or watches you. It's not the same as being in you, and it's not the same as you touching him, but it's better than nothing. What he likes most, though, is watching you touch yourself, his eyes fixated on your pussy as your fingers work eagerly to bring you to your orgasm. More often than not, he can't help but do it for you himself.

N is for naughty. You can be a naughty little thing sometimes, especially when you're trying to rile him up. He'll let you misbehave a little, like wearing those pretty skirts he likes on you or leave him Polaroids of you naked under his pillows. But he keeps count. When you strike out, he'll punish you. Rough, deep, hard, edging kind of punishment as he fucks you, taking out every little ounce of anger or frustration or jealousy you've made him feel. It'll keep you nice for a while, but Logan knows you'll act up again. And when you do, he'll be ready.

O is for oral. Now, yes, Logan loves when you suck him off. He loves seeing you on your knees, his cock all the way down your throat, the way you gag as you fit him. But he loves eating you out more. He can—and has—spent hours between your thighs, licking your cunt, enjoying your taste and your scent. He loves how you grind against his mouth, how you tangle your fingers in his hair and lead him to where you want him. He likes giving you that little ounce of control while he worships you like the goddess you are.

P is for pregnancy. The idea of you pregnant with his baby...Fuuuck. He imagines you nice and round, breasts heavy, his little child kicking in you. So he'll fuck you again and again, wanting so bad to fill you up and give you a baby. But P is for pullout also. Which he also enjoys, especially when he spills his load all over your stomach, or your lower back, and he gets to see the mess he's made. But one day, be promises himself, he'll give you one of his babies.

Q is for quarrel. Logan is in a constant state of war with himself. He loves taking control, loves how you submit with so much ease. But sometimes, he just wants to give in to you, let him do whatever you want. The thought haunts him at night and he's constantly considering asking you to take control for once, to let you do as you want with his body...

R is for raw. He's a very careful man, and you a very careful woman. But after being together for a few months, going raw is the obvious option. And once you do, Logan will never turn back. Your bare, soft, wet, tight pussy around his cock is a vice. Nothing with no one has ever felt as amazing as fucking you raw, and he needs it daily now. He has has has to feel your gummy walls on his cock if he wants to function properly, otherwise you'll all he'll ever think about and he doesn't want anyone reading his mind when they realize how distracted he is, especially since you're naked in there all the time.

S is for spit. Logan is a dirty, dirty man when it comes to sex. And there's not much he likes more than seeing you coated in his saliva. He likes to lick you all over, a thin trail of spit decorating your skin. He loves to spit on your tits, in your mouth, on your pussy and your ass. God, it makes him crazy. It's a small way of marking you, but it means the world to him.

T is for thigh fucking. Logan is a thigh man through and through. He'll finger you and make you come as many times as you need until your slick is all over your inner thighs, and then he'll stand behind you, slipping his cock between your soft thighs. And it's the only time during sex when he whimpers for you, his hands digging into your hips as he thrusts his hips, his long, thick cock rubbing your clit in the perfect way for him to pull more orgasms out of you.

U is for uninhibited. When he fucks you, Logan's mind is completely focused on you and the feeling of you. He doesn't even realize it when it happens, but he'll start murmuring, “Pretty pussy. So tight, so wet. So ready for my come.” Or, “Perfect tits. Perfect. Can't wait to knock you up, see them swollen with milk, maybe try some...” It's like he can't hold back his thoughts and they just leave his mouth without his permission. “Gorgeous. Fuckin' gorgeous, always so good to me. This cunt is so good to me, I'm gonna make her feel so good.”

V is for videos. His phone is full of videos of you, either of you touching yourself or spread out while he fucks you or your pussy wet and raw with his fingers pumping in and out of you. He'll watch those videos again and again, especially when you two are apart because of missions, and it's the only thing that keeps him going. He'll jerk off to the videos of you, groaning, gasping. He can almost feel your warm cunt around him, your wet walls tightening around him. He never lasts long when he watches your videos. And when he returns to you...Let's just say you won't be walking around the next day.

W is for whipped cream. Logan loves to spread whipped cream all over your body. On your stomach, your nipples, your pussy. And he licks it off. Little by little, the sugar mixed with your taste driving him almost over the edge. He's, maybe once or twice, actually comed in his pants just from licking the whipped cream off you. He loves it that much.

X marks the treasure. And in this case, you've marked a big yellow X on yourself. You're lying naked on his bed, the paint going from your shoulders, over your nipples, and crossing on your belly button, ending just at your thighs. You're waiting for Logan like this when he returns from a mission he'd said was particularly stressful over the phone. And when he sees you. Fuck, when he sees you. He shuts the door after himself quickly and walks to you, standing in front of you, stunned for a moment before he reacts. He's on you in seconds and he doesn't stop until you're a mess, sweating so much that the X painted on your skin is smeared everywhere. It's still one of his favorite times. And now, whenever he sees the X on his suit, he thinks of you.

Y is for yearn. Logan yearns for you, your touch, your body. And it's not always wild, rough sex. He actually enjoys making love to you, as corny as it sounds. Slow, deep thrusts, gentle kisses on your neck and face. He loves it. Holding you, his hands tracing your body, feeling your skin underneath his fingertips...He knows that everything that's happened to him is worth it since he gets to be with you. He yearns for your love, your approval, yearns to be worthy of you.

Z is for zeal. Logan is around 200 years old. He looks somewhere around thirty five, maybe more maybe less. But he fucks like he's in his twenties. He has so much enthusiasm when it comes to giving you pleasure. His stamina is crazy, his endurance unbelievable. You always end up more exhausted than him, body weak and sweating and trembling, and it fuels his ego. Knowing he can make a mess out of you even though he's much older than you makes him proud of himself.

---

Omg I'm so sorry this literally took me so long 😭😭😭 but I hope you guys enjoy it 🫶🏼🫶🏼🫶🏼

Blog masterlist

#inbox <3 #ilysm anon #anon <3 #logan howlett x fem!reader #logan howlett x you #logan howlett x reader #logan howlett smut #logan wolverine #logan smut #logan howlett #wolverine smut #wolverine #x fem!reader

305 notes · View notes

colonelarr0w · 9 months ago

Note

Can I request a fic where someone else confesses to reader infront of Megumi? How would he react thank you!

Sypnosis - A student from Kyoto is a little too bold ... but who is Megumi to say anything without accidentally revealing that he likes you?

Warning(s) - None.

! PIECE BEGINS UNDERNEATH THE CUT !

God … he hated Valentine's Day.

But not for the cynical reasons that everyone else seemed to despise Valentine's Day for – no, his loathing for the holiday stemmed mostly from his frustration with himself.

His frustration over not being able to say something … anything … to you. Every time that he thought about it, about confessing to you or saying anything to you about his feelings, it felt like someone had lodged something in his throat. It felt like someone had stolen his ability to speak, locking it away in a tiny metal cage and swallowing the key for its lock.

And it wasn't like Yuuji or Nobara made the situation any better. If anything, they only added fuel to the flame – constantly teasing the poor boy any time that you were in his vicinity. Megumi would have to bite back his growing scowl whenever you approached; knowing that Yuuji and Nobara would smirk at one another and embarrass him in one way or another.

Thank God that you never really noticed … unless you did. Maybe you were just being nice in order to not add to an already bad enough situation (you genuinely had no idea what was going on, Megumi would later find out).

"C'mon Fushiguro, get her something nice and tell her!" Yuuji had told him first thing that morning, leaning against the open doorframe of his dormitory and smiling widely. Megumi bit back his urge to roll his eyes.

"Here, I'll give you everything. All you need to do is speak, yeah?" Nobara had said when he and Yuuji joined her in the school's courtyard. Again, Megumi had bitten back the urge to roll his eyes towards his skull.

It wasn't that he didn't want to tell you, it was just that he had absolutely no idea of how he would be able to stomach your rejection when it inevitably hit him.

"Fushiguro! There you are!"

His head turns at the sound of your voice, the scowl on his face fading almost immediately upon seeing you make your way over to him. You lift your hand in a friendly wave, one that he doesn't hesitate to return.

Yuuji and Nobara exchange knowing looks as you wave to them as well, eyebrows momentarily furrowing together at the snicker that Yuuji hides behind his hand. Even Nobara's smile seems forced, but once again, you don't draw any attention to it.

"Hey (Y/N)," Megumi says with a polite bow of his head, feeling his chest swell at the smile that you flash in his direction. "Gojo didn't send you on a mission today?"

"Nope! I think he was more heartbroken at the fact that Nanami didn't get him any flowers for Valentine's Day," you reply with a dismissive wave of your hand. Yuuji laughs heartily at that, but his laughter is quieted immediately by Nobara smacking her palm against his mouth.

Your eyes flicker to watch as Nobara smiles at you, her eyes closing as she slowly begins to drag the pink-haired boy back into the school.

That leaves you and Megumi alone.

"Oh, I wanted to ask you--"

"(Y/N)!"

You lift your head at someone calling out your name, smiling as a visiting second-year from the Kyoto school walks over, his hands closed around a comically large bouquet of vibrant red roses. He smiles at you once he's standing in front of you, not noticing the confused look on your face … or the deepened scowl that had settled over Megumi's features.

"Oh … hello," you say, mustering the politest smile that you could without looking as though you wanted to shove the Kyoto student away. He returns your smile, then shifting the bouquet of flowers forward, silently urging you to take them.

Megumi can feel his heart sink to the depths of his stomach as you take the roses, holding them against your chest to ensure that none of them would fall. You nod your head at the Kyoto student, already feeling an uncomfortable sensation beginning to bubble in your stomach.

"Here, this is for you as well!" Suddenly, a white envelope with a bright red heart scrawled into it is shoved into your free hand. The Kyoto student only smiles wider, watching you through glistening eyes as you chuckle – a chuckle that Megumi immediately pegs as you being uncomfortable.

"Thank you, you're too kind," you reply, still chuckling even as you shift to stow the unopened letter into the pocket of your uniform. The Kyoto student opens his mouth to speak, but his words die on the tip of his tongue at the glare that Megumi shoots in his direction.

"N-no problem," the Kyoto student mumbles out, rubbing a hand against the back of his neck as his gaze flickers between an uncomfortable you and an irate Megumi – whose glare looks as though it could light blazing fires.

And without uttering another word to you, the Kyoto student scurries away.

You turn to Megumi, finally noticing the frown that had settled on his face. "Fushiguro? Everything okay?"

He shakes his head, bringing himself back to reality as he turns his head to catch your awaiting gaze. His eyes dart between you and the flowers that you hold, though he doesn't dare to say anything regarding the roses that are borderline falling from your arms.

"Fine," he answers coldly, lifting his arms to cross them over his chest. You furrow your eyebrows for a moment, then a knowing smile curls the corners of your mouth upward.

"You know, I was hoping to get flowers from someone else today," you say with a little shrug of your shoulders, already bending to place down the bouquet of roses. Megumi's eyebrow perks, eyes following you as you fold your hands behind your back and cheekily smile at him.

Megumi's frown only seems to deepen at your words, the letter he had written for you suddenly feeling as heavy as stones where it sat in his jacket pocket.

"Yeah? Who?" Megumi dares to ask, feeling his anger double at the sight of your smile widening.

You giggle, already reaching into your pocket for something – removing a small black box with the letter 'M' engraved into its thick fabric. He stills, staring down at it, puzzled.

Hesitantly, Megumi reaches out, taking the box from you and opening it. Inside is a silver ring, and turning it over reveals a little message engraved into the silver.

Megumi <3

His cheeks immediately flush a bright shade of red, the tips of his ears burning as his gaze returns to you. Your lips are turned upward in a smile, this one soft and gentle – the one that crinkles the corners of your eyes and makes your smile lines stand out.

"Do you like it?" Megumi flushes again at the sound of your breathy chuckle. It was cute to you, how he was admiring the ring while simultaneously trying to catch your gaze.

His fingers snap the box shut, arms lifting to wrap themselves around you. You let out a shocked yelp as you're tugged against Megumi's chest, his face hiding itself into your hair as he squeezes at you with a strength you had no idea he possessed.

You chuckle after a moment, finally lifting your arms to return his embrace. He relaxes upon feeling you around him, closing his eyes and simply savoring the feeling of you.

"I like you too, by the way," you whisper into his ear, smiling as he pulls back just enough to glance at you. His face reddens impossibly further, but he finds himself smiling nonetheless.

Maybe Valentine's Day wasn't that bad after all.

#colonelarr0w #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk fanfiction #jujutsu kaisen fanfiction #megumi fushiguro x reader #fushiguro megumi x reader #megumi x reader #megumi fanfiction #megumi fushiguro fanfiction #fushiguro megumi fanfiction

954 notes · View notes

beenbaanbuun · 10 months ago

Text

country boy w/ mingi

thinking thoughts about country boy mingi who talks to you in a southern drawl as he leans his upper body on the bonnet of his truck. he’s so shameless with the way he looks you up and down, and you really don’t mind at all. in fact, you almost wish you could swap places with that stupid toothpick he keeps dangling from his pretty lips.

“don’t you think you ought to be getting home, doll?” he croons at you as you push yourself up to sit on the hood. the way your thighs spread against the red metal makes him salivate, but he’s a strong man. he can control himself, “i don’t think your daddy is my biggest fan; he wouldn’t appreciate you hanging around someone like me after sunset.”

as much as you hate to admit it, mingi is right; something about the farm boy from the neighbouring ranch just didn’t sit right with your daddy. maybe it’s his cocky way of speaking, or the rumours that get passed around town by all the pretty buckle bunnies who had their turn with him. the cowboy had built quite a reputation for himself, over the years. he likes to fuck and chuck; he’d rarely beds the same girl twice, and never more than three times. those brief encounters seem to be enough for most of the women you come across in the local bars—they do nothing but rave about how nonchalant and uncaring the cowboy is in bed. apparently, the way he fucks them hard and rough makes him all the more attractive.

yet he was never anything but soft with you. soft smiles, soft words, soft touches. just soft. if only your daddy could see the way he grins at you as he pulls the hat from his head and settles it atop yours, or the way his lithe fingers tighten the string around your chin to secure the hat in place. the deep chuckle that leaves him as the brim falls over your eyes goes straight to your chest, your heart beating unhealthily quick.

“my daddy doesn’t control me,” you push the brim up so you can see his pretty face. his skin is gorgeously tan from all those hours he spends in the field with his boss’s horses. you often watch him from your window, sketchbook in hand as you messily draw him over and over. he doesn’t look quite as good in graphite as he does through the glass of your bedroom window. seeing him like this, so close that you could touch him, is even better, “and i’m not ready to go home yet. besides, didn’t you promise me a ride on mr campbell’s prize pony?

he smiles and it shines brighter than the sun that’s taking its time in sinking below the horizon. his laugh puts the sound of morning birds to shame. his skin is smoother than your daddy’s whiskey, and his eyes sharper than his switchblade. nothing compares to him, you figure as you gaze into his deep hazelnut eyes; you could watch him and never hunger for anything else. you’d be sustained for life.

“sure i did, doll,” he takes the toothpick out and flicks it to the ground. you watch as it lands in the dirt by his dusty leather boots before letting your eyes drag themselves back up his body to reach his eyes. every part of him is just as pretty as the next and you find that the more you stare, the more you want to have him, “but it’s getting to be dark soon, and like i said, your daddy doesn’t approve of me. i’m not quite good enough for his little princess, am i?”

“i think you’re good enough for me,” you blurt out, heat immediately rising to your face as you take in what you’ve just said. humiliating yourself in front of the man you’ve been dreaming about for years is never good, especially not when you see the man almost every day. you look to the floor, cursing yourself as you hear mingi hum in amusement. it’s not for long, though. he catches your chin on one long finger, drawing your eyes back up to his.

“i’m sure you do, doll,” his voice is teasing, as is his lopsided grin. it sends a shiver down your spine as he taunts you, “precious little thing, thinking i don’t see the way you stare at me from your window. i see the hearts in your eyes, y’know. the way they turn green whenever you see me with one of those towny girls. it's cute; you’re cute.”

a huge hand comes to rest on your exposed thigh. you freeze in place, eyes on his, heart in your mouth. then his other hand meets with your other thigh and without any resistance from you, he parts them just enough to shuffle his body between them. you swallow down the knot in your throat as he invades your personal space.

“part of me wants to agree with your daddy; you’re too good for me, doll. you deserve someone better,” his face is too close to yours. you’re holding your breath as if you might blow him away if you were to exhale. his own fans across your face, the scent of mint and menthol filling your senses. suddenly, it’s your favourite smell in the world, “but then again, i tend to be possessive over things i consider to be mine… and i don’t think i could bear it if i were to see my doll hanging off another man’s arm, hm?”

he whispers that last bit, the slow drawl of his accent echoing through your brain, turning your thoughts to mush. you’re sure he can see the effect he’s having on you; the shallow rise and fall of your chest, your swollen lip from where your teeth continuously tug against it, your glazed-over, thoughtless eyes. you’re also sure that it’s only serving to encourage him.

still, even if mingi currently has your legs in a gelatinous state and your heart ticking like a time bomb, your daddy didn’t raise a pushover. a princess, yes, but never a pushover. one of your (extremely shaky) hands finds its way to his chest, pushing at the linen-clad muscles ever-so-gently until he stumbles just a few inches back. despite your eyes not being able to find his face, you know you can do this.

“well, what about you?” your voice is feeble. you clear your throat in the hopes of making it stronger, “you think i like watching you flirt with other women? to hear all those nasty stories about what goes down in the bed of your truck?” the more you talk, the more your courage builds. you look him in the eye, only to see he’s still smirking. that beautiful, infuriating smirk, “you’re not the only possessive one, mingi. if i’m yours, you’re mine—”

the next few seconds happen in a flash, but you can pick out three key events. first, he bullies his way between your thighs again, pushing them wide and pulling you close until his pelvis is flush against yours. then, with a determined hand, he rips the hat away from your head, slamming it down onto the hood of his truck and making you jump. there’s almost no time between that and the final event, though, as before you can say a single thing more, a pair of determined lips find your own.

they’re hot as they trap you in a kiss, moving quickly and sloppily against your own. he’s quick to take charge, fingers pressing deep into the flesh of your thighs as he moves his lips against yours. it’s like he’s been waiting for this for years, and now that he’s finally got it, he’s not willing to let it go. desperate, and hard and fast, it makes your head spin in the most delicious way. so much so, in fact, that you can’t help but wrap your arms around his neck to act as some sort of stability as you melt into his touch.

he pulls away for mere seconds, just enough for you to catch your breath, before diving in for more. this time, he leads with his tongue, bullying his way into your mouth as soon as his lips are on yours again. there’s no fight for dominance, the both of you already knowing that he’s the one in charge of this whole ordeal. you just let yourself sink into it, enjoying every second of him devouring your mouth.

all you can hear is moans mixed with the sound of lips smacking against lips. you can’t tell where your moans finish and his start, but perhaps it just goes to show how in sync the two of you really are.

he finally pulls away again, for good this time, and a heavy sigh falls from his lips, “i’ve always been yours, doll,” his wet lips meet your neck, and you tip your head back as a moan tumbles from your parted lips, “from the moment i met you, i was yours.”

“what about—”

“gossip spreads in a small town like this,” he cuts you off, “not everything you hear is true. you have a one-night stand to get over a girl once and suddenly you’ve slept your way through the whole town. honestly, i’m kind of glad the story focuses on how good i am in bed and not on the way i cried about you after i came…”

you can’t stifle the giggle that bubbles from your throat as he nuzzles against your neck.

“you cried about me?” you laugh.

“multiple times, doll,” he confirms, “what can i say, i’m a softie at heart.”

#ateez x reader #ateez fanfic #ateez oneshot #ateez scenarios #ateez fluff #ateez fic #mingi x reader #mingi fluff #mingi fanfic

636 notes · View notes

jadeylovesmarvelxo · 10 months ago

Text

Part one

Previously; You heard Eddie say that you weren't his type, you're devastated and decide to distance yourself, Eddie notices this and realises how much he misses you...and how much he likes you 💞

Part two warnings, Eddie making a fool of himself, the boy has a serious crush. Mutual pining, idiots to lovers.

💞💌

Now that Eddie has noticed you, it's like he can't stop. He looks out for you in the hallways, secretly hoping that you'll talk to him like you used to.

"Dude, would you go and speak to her instead of gawking at her like an idiot" Gareth snaps, Eddie throws him a dark look and looks away from you.

You're chatting to Robin animatedly and you're just mesmerising. You never opened up like that around Eddie, he's worried he's unknowingly made you nervous around him.

Gareth mentioned about the crush you had on him, was that still the case? He's frustrated because he wants to talk to you, but he feels flustered and unsure what to say.

A rarity for him according to the rest of Hellfire. Assholes. They were right though, he could run his mouth about Jason and his band of buttheads, talk for hours about D&D and heavy metal.

But how is he feeling right now around you? Well this was different. He could be shy if he was attracted to someone but he always knew what to say, even if it was some inane babbling.

Around you though he drew a blank, babbled and blushed much to the rest of the gang's amusement. Fuck they would never let their fierce dungeon master forget that you turned him to absolute mush.

If he could have one proper conversation with you before the week is out then he would be a happy man.

Seeing you being so open around Steve doesn't help either, envy claws at his insides and he feels irrationality jealous of Steve Harrington.

Gareth takes pity on Eddie's failing to talk to you and mentions about the drawings you had done for Hellfire.

"She's really good dude, maybe you could start the conversation with that" this perks Eddie up and he decides to just go for it and speak to you.

He walks over to you as you're chatting to Robin as Eddie approaches you peer up at him and smile. "Oh hi Eddie"

"Uh, hi sweetheart, Gareth says you had some drawings for Hellfire. Would you like to show me them. If you want?" He asks you. Crosses his fingers behind his back.

To his delight you agree. "Sure, I was meant to show you a little while back but uh I was busy, I'd love to show you" he gestures to you to follow him and the two of you head to the drama room where Hellfire is hosted.

Carefully you lay out your drawings on the table, you feel like your whole body is buzzing with nerves as he leans over you to take a look. His fingers caress over the drawings and he lets out a soft gasp of surprise.

Your drawings are amazing and he tells you and you beam at him, pleased that he likes them. Eddie pauses as he shifts one of the pictures away and his eyes widen, "Is that me?" he takes in the photo and you move it away mortified.

The drawing was of Eddie as the Dungeon Master but exaggerated with certain D&D elements and bats that represented one of his tattoos.

"That's an incredible drawing sweetheart" you duck your head to avoid his gaze, that familiar shyness you feel around him, coming back tenfold.

"Thanks" you murmur and you swear your heart might beat out of its chest when he moves closer to you, his breath almost tickles your neck.

"Can I keep this?" He asks and you nod feeling delighted that he likes it so much. You're still confused why he's talking to you so intently and with interest now but you put it out of your mind.

Maybe the two of you could at least be friends? It might help you finally get over him. It wasn't a foolproof plan and you could end up falling even more for him but it was worth a shot.

...

To your surprise Eddie comes over to chat to you all week at school and in Family Video, sometimes you feel like he's making excuses just to talk to you. "Someone's got a crush" Robin teases and Steve doesn't look happy as you help Robin unpack new stock.

"Took him long enough to realise it" you shake your head and ignore the butterflies in your stomach at the thought of Eddie liking you. It couldn't be true though could it?

"He doesn't, he's just interested in my drawings" you explain and you feel the brief hope you had slipping away.

"Yeah...that's totally why he's staring at you like a lovesick puppy, your drawings" Robin subtly nods over to Eddie who nearly knocks several videos over when you catch his eye. There's a sweet goofy grin on his face and a pink tingle to his cheeks.

You had never seen Eddie blush before, he was usually so confident, the blush was endearing. Wait why was he blushing? Surely it couldn't be because of you could it?

No don't be silly. He likes Megan, you're not his type. "He doesn't have a crush on me" you shake your head refusing to believe it.

Robin brightens then gently nudges you to the front of the counter. "Well, he's coming this way, so..." You smile as Eddie walks over to you and is quiet for a few seconds before he blurts out the question he's been dying to speak to you in private.

Curious at what he's going to say, you decide to take your break a little early since the store is quiet for now, you follow him outside and can't help notice how jittery he is. Why was he nervous? Did you make him nervous? The thought was a tiny bit thrilling.

Eddie seems to be struggling with what to say, you wait patiently as he takes a deep breath then it all comes out in a mumbled rush.

"Sorry, what was that Eddie?" you move closer to him, confused at what he's saying, it was all jumbled and quiet. He flushes a little bit then steels himself instantly looking determined.

"Gareth said you had a crush on me and I'm wondering if that's still true?" He blurts out and you freeze. Ah shit.

"Does it matter? You don't like me that way, I'm not your type" you wince at the sadness that colours your tone.

"You're wrong" his voice turns impossibly soft and you stare at him puzzled. You heard him say that you weren't his type.

"I heard what you said to Gareth and you were hoping Megan noticed you" you point out to him, he blushes and nods, not denying it.

"Yeah I was a dumbass, when you weren't around I missed you like crazy and realised how much I really do like you and I'm not interested in Megan, not anymore" Unbelievable, you shake your head torn between amusement and being completely stunned.

"You sure do take your time Eddie Munson" you eventually reply to him and he gives you a heartmelting smile and on an impulse you kiss his cheek, then at that moment Steve yells that your break is almost done. Great, just great.

Picking up your bag, you wave goodbye to Eddie and rush to get back inside, Eddie touches his cheek where you kissed it and a big smile breaks across his face. He's dazed and happy for a few seconds, then he comes to. "Hey, princess. Will you let me take you on a date sometime?" He yells over to you.

You peer up at Eddie through your lashes, "Sure...definitely sometime" you smile at him then turn away, try to control the fact you want to squeal out loud. You're trying to act cool and nonchalant.

Eddie who has no compunction about expressing how he feels practically struts his way back to his van. You stifle a giggle and know the sometime date will be soon, very soon.

❤️🫶

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson x you #steve harrington x platonic!reader #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson

650 notes · View notes

creepyclothdoll · 2 months ago

Text

Condemned

Paul loved escape rooms.

He just loved them. The lovingly-crafted set designs and props, the electric buzz that came from finding hidden items and putting together puzzle pieces, the euphoria of cracking a code, the adrenaline of the ticking clock, and most importantly, the thrill of the escape.

His friends had long ago stopped accompanying him every week, sometimes more than once a week, to escape rooms in his area. Especially once he started driving hours out of town just to try new escape game centers for a fresh hit of that delicious escape puzzle challenge.

Paul now preferred to go alone anyway. People just bogged him down. He didn’t come to make friends, he came to win.

Months of hot anticipation finally bore fruit when the “Great American Escape” opened its doors to him, at long last. Great American, according to the billboards and posters strewn around town, was the primary attraction of an entertainment mega-complex which took the place of a long-disused waterpark hotel. It would be huge, he knew. Not just physically. His great fear was that it would blow up on social media– maybe even on his feed– and then the solutions would be spoiled for him. So he had to be first.

Great American Escape was so new the day he strode in there that there were still “CONDEMNED” notices stuffed into the recycling bins and old lists of health & safety violations stuck in the vents.

“One ticket for Mystery Escape,” Paul, slapped his money on the counter and smiled at the teen boy working behind it. He was a short, lithe, wide-eyed man in his thirties with dark greasy hair and one navy blue university sweater he’d kept in moderate repair for a decade and a half.

“No group?” The boy asked. When Paul confirmed this, the boy said, “You’ll have to wait until a group comes in. You need three people at least.”

“When is the next group coming?” Paul asked.

“We don’t have any groups booked today,” the boy replied.

“... So, you’re not gonna let me in?”

“... Um… yeah. I can’t. Sorry.”

Paul put down another handful of bills. This wasn’t his first rodeo.

“I’ll buy three tickets,” he said. He made sure to draw the boy’s attention to the extra $20, a little tip for a helpful front deskman.

The boy, who was thin and bored-looking with a patchy teen mustache and his elbow resting on top of a stack of I Escaped stickers, glanced at the security camera which flickered in the corner, its blinking red eye frosted over with a decade of dust. The boy took the $20 and shrugged.

“You won’t be able to escape,” the boy said. “It’s impossible by yourself. But if you want to try… I guess you can try.”

The boy led Paul towards a set of slightly rusty elevator doors, past posters and cardboard cut-outs of characters from “Rattlesnake Gulch Treasure Hunt,” “Escape From Venus,” and “King’s Dungeon Jailbreak.” Paul planned to return to these, but he’d start by going straight for the crown jewel– Mystery Escape, which had been advertised exclusively with nothing but an open doorframe leading to darkness.

The boy went over basic safety guidelines. The door wouldn’t really be locked, red things were real alarms, things that said “staff only” were really for staff only, etc., blah blah blah, boring stuff. Paul listened impatiently, but carefully, only because knowing what was “real” (and therefore inconsequential) would give him a leg up in the game.

“The game starts when the elevator door opens,” the boy finally said. “Floor 3. Good luck.”

The elevator bell dinged, and the doors slid open. The light flickered. Paul stepped inside.

He waved to the boy as the doors shut. He pressed 3.

The light above flickered. Paul could almost see his reflection in the red-rusted metal doors.

The elevator began its ascent, and right away, Paul could tell something was strange. There was a creaking noise, like a train braking. The light flickered. The light sputtered out.

The elevator stopped.

Paul was trapped. It was pitch black inside the tiny car, which made no sound or movement.

The first thing Paul did in any escape room was to check around for hidden props. Keys, ciphers, and puzzle pieces were often hidden around a room for players to find, which would then give them a clue as to what to do next. Paul checked around the elevator car for hidden tools. He pulled up the mildewy carpet by its frayed edge– nothing under there but more mildew. But wait! On the bottom of the carpet there were numbers and letters: EL1. What could that possibly mean?

The next thing Paul did in an escape room was to interact with anything interactable he could see. In front of him was a series of numbers, 1-5, a “door open” and “door close” button, and “emergency.” But “emergency” was red, and red things were inconsequential.

Paul pushed all the buttons but the last. To his surprise, the door began to open slightly– then jammed.

Paul mused about the possible meanings of “EL1.” E was the fifth letter, and there were five numbers… But L?

Maybe it was a cipher. Paul thought on this.

He started trying combinations of buttons. The cipher thing was the key somehow, he knew it. A cipher worked with a code. Where was the code? Maybe it had to do with the symbols, not the numbers…

Suddenly, it all made sense to him. He pressed a set of numbers and then hit the door open button.

To his delight and satisfaction, the elevator doors creaked open. And with them came light.

Paul could see well enough now to see that he faced a concrete wall, which took up the whole lower half of the exit. But above that half, Paul could see a hallway of a hotel, so tantalizingly close.

Paul had beaten escape rooms that had physical components to them before, so this was cake. He gripped the edge of the concrete ledge in front of him and pulled himself up. He let out a grunt as his head and arms made it over the threshold. He just had to find something to grip so he could drag the rest of himself through the gap, and then it was on to the next puzzle.

The elevator lurched.

There was a sound. A scrape, a crash, a wet squelch, a snap. It all happened at once, and it was the loudest sound he ever heard.

When Paul finally sat up, he was somewhere completely different. It was dark here. Darker than the elevator car. The darkness of this place was crushing, like the depths of the deep ocean. There was a smell of meat all around. Paul quickly dismissed the idea of trying to adjust his eyes– he’d navigate by feel.

Paul reached out into the darkness and felt nothing. He stood. His hands pushed him up from a strangely soft, lumpy floor. He noticed something strange about the sound of his movements, and let out an inquisitive “Hey!” to check the echo. It did not bounce. He was… outside?

No– he must be in the disused waterpark proper. The building was huge. Paul was delighted by this thought. He’d chosen the right room.

Paul felt around for a wall, a light switch, a puzzle. Anything.

“Abandon all hope, ye who enter here,” said a deep voice.

“Hello?” Paul said after a moment.

“You lived a selfish life, Paul. You cared for nothing and no one but yourself and your own pleasure. You were an idolater, a heretic. You raised the Escape Game to the heights of a god. Pity that from this place, there is no escape.”

Paul listened carefully to the monologue. Selfish. Idolater. Raised. Heights. These things might be clues.

“Paul,” said the deep voice, which seemed to come from above, below, and all around him, “You died a foolish death. Pity that you did not suffer. But now, you will suffer for eternity.”

Paul was already climbing up a staircase he’d found. It was the disused waterpark. Raise, he thought. Heights. The key was to go up.

He found a craggy, warm wall. There was something under his hand– a button? He pushed it in, hard.

Under his hand, a huge glowing red eye flew open.

“OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOHHHH!”

The eye blinked in pain and fury, welling up with tears. A thousand more eyes flew open along the wall before him, and Paul saw that it was not a wall at all, but some kind of enormous creature. It stirred, its red gaze illuminating the space around them.

“Stupid man. You woke something up.”

But now Paul could see the entire room– or space, or whatever it was. What he’d taken to be the “floor” was a mass of flesh– human hands, it looked like, reaching up stiffly. The hands started to stir as the creature woke from its slumber. What Paul had taken for a staircase was not that.

Paul was making some real progress. As the hands clamored over each other, rising like tentacles from around the immense eyes, Paul hopped onto the face of the thing and started using the eyes as hand-and-footholds, which was their obvious use. Paul could spare no time on figuring out little things like that the honest way, he was on a clock. As he stepped on the creature’s eyes, it let out another unearthly roar and started to rise.

There was a hole in the ceiling. Yes– this was meant to be a cave of some sort, and it had an exit.

“You idiot,” the voice boomed. “You–”

Paul kicked the creature in the eye a few more times to make it rise faster. A tsunami of pale, writhing hands on wiggling stems shot up towards him to slap him away, but by the time they reached him, he was already through the hole.

Paul scurried through the tunnel as fast as he could. If it was a three-person puzzle, you couldn’t waste any time.

He came to the next room, which was well-lit– a nice reprieve. In this room, a sweltering cave, some props department had gone all-out carving little demon faces that stuck out from the sides. These gargoyle-like stone structures leered at him and grinned in anticipation.

“The flametongue is coming, kindling,” the demon voices hissed. “Ready or not!” Paul heard a splashing, gurgling sound up ahead. He took quick note of some of the quirks of the gargoyle faces– most of them had black scorch marks on them, but some didn’t. That was a clue. The light from the other end of the tunnel grew brighter, as did the gurgling. Paul realized what he was meant to do, climbed up the protesting gargoyles, and found a set on the ceiling which had no scorching on them. Below, a wave of red-hot boiling sulferous-smelling magma flowed down, passing over the other gargoyles, who screeched and sputtered in it. Another puzzle solved. Paul dropped down once the stones cooled, and hurried up the tunnel– no time to spare. Only one more wave of “fire” passed before he solved the gargoyle pattern and pulled the right ones out of the wall in sequence to reveal a hidden exit.

This escape room was huge. He made his way through a room which featured a river of moving knives, which he was able to avoid by memorizing the timing and patterns, and climbed up into a room full of blistering ice and animatronic zombies which lurched toward him, their bodies crackling as they froze just as soon as they’d moved, their lips split by the cold. This puzzle was a simple matter of lining up the giant shards of ice in the room so that the light concentrated and blasted a hole through the glacial wall.

Paul’s own body was profoundly frostbitten by this point, but he didn’t notice. He was on a timer.

By the time Paul finally made it past the “three-headed-dog on a chain” puzzle, that subterranean voice from the first room had caught up with him.

“Paul,” the voice said. “There is no hope. There is no escape. Do you understand? You are dead, Paul–”

“Ssh,” Paul said, gazing at the puzzle before him.

The door was immense. It seemed to stretch above him and beyond for miles. It was carved from stone older than the bedrock of earth, and above it, in an arch as large as the firmament, there was carved a phrase:

Abandon all hope, ye who enter here.

This was clearly important, because the deep voice had already voiced it earlier in the game. After checking the area for tools, Paul ran through anagrams. There were a lot of little props around the big door– lots of discarded holy texts, some bones, some strange bits of giant insectoid carapaces which Paul could not immediately identify. The bibles and such had bits burned and torn off of them in places. Abandon all hope, ye who enter here. That was a ciper, maybe. He was sweating. He had to be at nearly an hour already. He started arranging the bones.

“What you are doing is futile nonsense,” the deep voice said.

Aha! By turning the phrase above the gate into numbers and then matching those numbers to the non-burned sections of each holy text, organized by the printing date, Paul had discovered an anagram which, when re-ordered, spelled out skeleton key prop, ds flo knemb yyuq. Paul had only bothered to spell out the first three words, however, due to the time crunch. That was all he needed to understand what to do, and he had done it: he had connected all the bones into one big key.

“I don’t think you understand, Paul. This is not a game. You cannot escape your fate. You cannot escape your death. You cannot escape damnation. You cannot escape from Hell.”

Paul slid the giant skeleton key into the lock. It took all of his strength to shove it to the back. Behind him, the host of hell scrambled over each other up the lip of the abyss– the thousand hands and eyes, the fire-spitting gargoyles, the lurching ice zombies, the great black dog, and many others, come to claim him for their own special torment.

Paul turned the key. There was a click.

Well– more of a thunderous clunk.

The deep, gravelly noise of the stone door opening reverberated all throughout Hell.

“What the–”

“Hell yeah!” Paul shouted. He ducked through the door.

The red eye of the security camera caught it all. The man, crawling through the gap in the elevator. The lurch. The fall. The split.

The hopeless paramedics, the traumatized front desk boy, the shaking venue manager, the anxious lawyers, the dozens of police putting up brand-new yellow “do not cross” signage around the old hotel.

The red eye of the security camera watched on as people in grim uniforms put the larger piece of what had been paul into a black bodybag and fetched the rest from the third story floor.

“Used to love this waterpark when I was a little kid,” said one of the paramedics to another. “Now I hope they tear it down.”

“Wasn’t this place a lawsuit magnet back in the day?” said the other. “I remember a kid–”

The paramedics both noticed at the same moment that the body bag was moving. A lot.

“Is he alive in there?” The first paramedic choked out, even though he understood that the answer had to be no. But then the zipper started sliding down. The bag was opening from the inside.

The headless body of Paul Gibson sat up. It reached out with its stumps of fingers, covered in cool dark blood, and rolled out onto the hotel lobby floor. Both paramedics screamed and leapt away as the decapitated Paul stumbled to its feet and lurched forward. It felt around without its fingers, leaving smears of blood on the front desk, the wall, the table, the “do not cross” tape, until it found the small white cooler on the floor. He pried it open with his mangled hands and lifted his own iced head out.

Paul put his head on top of the gristle that was his neck. He had it the wrong way around, but his eyes opened and he smiled through bloody teeth.

“I ss-ss-olved the b-a-ag puzzle,” the formerly dead man sputtered. “Did it a-all mys-self.”

He turned around to face both paramedics, so that his front side faced away.

“Uh… congratulations,” the second paramedic said.

Paul choked up more blood and grinned wider. He stumbled toward the front desk, toward the paramedics. They backed away from him in horror as he reached out the wrong way and grabbed a commemorative I Escaped! sticker from the top of the pile.

“Th-a-ank you,” Paul said. “I’ll be su-ure to come back soon!”

150 notes · View notes