#just a very belated birthday gift lol | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

cheolhub · 2 years ago

Text

YOU GET ME SO HIGH — VERNON CHWE ࿐

summary. smoking with your best friend (who you totally don’t have a crush on) is super fun till all you can think about is him… well, doing him, to be more specific.

wc. 6.2k

warnings. recreational marijuana use!!, dubcon (kinda? sex while high), bf2l + idiots to lovers, kinda fluffy!! weed is referred to as ‘green crack’ several times lol, fingering, hehe big d!ck!vernon, mentions of masturbation, unprotected sex, pet names (baby), brief tit worship, naked confessions, vernon is kinda shy, jealous, nervous & rlly likes boobs and reader is v needy lol <3— MINORS DNI 18+

note. havent seen anyone write for vernon in like 3 years so here’s my lowkey cringey, poorly-written, self-indulgent fic that i was supposed to post for his birthday 2 months ago ++ guest appearance from weed dealer!cheol bc yeah :3

if you had told vernon that his best friend was someone he’d met in a biology lab–one that he was accidentally put into his freshmen year– he’d say you were a liar. nonetheless, it’s true– you’re his best friend and you have been for years now. in your fourth and final year of university, you still sit on the balcony of your apartment with him like you have every other day for the past three.

“happy birthday, vernon,” you smile cheekily, passing him a snack-size ziplock baggie. “i got you an eighth since you’re always begging to smoke my shit.”

he laughs and gives you a lazy smile, “Y/N, my birthday was over two months ago… plus, you know you didn’t have to get me anything.”

you scoff, rolling your eyes, “hansol vernon chwe, you are my best friend, of course i had to. and… i was waiting for a few of my checks to hit, that's why it’s a belated birthday gift.” you take his hand, placing the bag into it. “now take it and don’t smoke it all in a day, got it?”

he nods, eyes softening, “thank you,” he says. “must’ve cost your broke ass a fortune, though, so next time– don’t get me anything.”

you giggle at the joke that’s actually, not really a joke. “i really don’t think you have any room to speak– who here has a real job?”

he rolls his eyes, “my job is real, thank you very much.”

you chuckle, shaking your head. “reselling limited edition vinyls for seven times what you bought them for isn’t a job, vernon, that’s called being a dick.” you tell him. “and actually, the prices weren’t too bad. cheol gave me a discount.”

vernon almost visibly clenches at the name of your awfully-sweet dealer. though he can attest, cheol is only ever sweet to you. every time he’s bought from your favorite supplier, he’s been a total asshole and upcharges him for no reason which is one of the basis’ why he’s always smoking your stuff. you always tell him it’s karma for selling records at such a high price, but vernon begs to differ. he knows that cheol just doesn’t like him and he has a gut feeling that it’s because of you.

“oh yeah? how’d you get him to do that?” he asks, but he’s pretty sure he knows the answer. the answer being cheol has a thing for you.

you bite your lip, looking over your apartment balcony. “mmm, he showed up here while i was… you know…playing around…and…”

vernon knows you well enough to finish your sentence for you. “masturbating?”

“vernon, be modest!” you whine, hiding your face in your hands. “you knew, you didn’t have to say it!”

he chuckles, “it’s normal, Y/N, we all do it. no need to be embarrassed over it.”

it’s true. everyone does it. but not everyone masturbates thinking about their best friend. he thinks that might just be him.

“yeah, but you’ve probably never done it thinking you’d be finished before your hot drug dealer shows up at your apartment.” you blush. vernon doesn’t say anything for a while and you’re afraid you’ve made him feel uncomfortable (even though he claims you never have). you bite the insides of your cheeks before uttering, “can you pack a joint or something?”

truthfully, vernon doesn’t mean to be so quiet. he’s just trying to imagine you in that state without letting his dick get hard, though it’s proving to be extremely difficult. you probably looked so pretty in cute short shorts and a shirt that you could see your nipples through. or worse, you were wearing a tank top that was snuggly wrapped around your torso where you could see everything. he wants to be a gentleman, wants to be respectful… but, god, your tits are out of this world.

he hums trying to rid the dirty images in his head, taking your box of goods to grab the grinder and paper cones. “finish your story.” he urges.

you look at him, searching for signs of discomfort, but there is only that stoic look he always wore. with a sigh, you continue, “anyway, i was… you know… and he texted me and said he was here– i was a mess–”

he can imagine.

“–and i think he could tell ‘cuz when i got down to his car i was so disheveled and was about to start crying. i literally looked like i got edged or something,” you mumble, twiddling your thumbs out of embarrassment.

you’re painting a picture for vernon and he has to bite back a groan.

it’s not the first time you and vernon had talked about sexual things. there had been several conversations on the topic. he knew almost everything about you except for… you know… what you tasted like and how tight you are– his vivid imagination couldn’t give him all of those pleasures.

“and, vernon, i kid you not, he literally knew. he was all smug and shit,” you groan. “it was kinda humiliating.”

you remember how much wetter you’d gotten the moment you slipped into his car. he was calling you all types of things– all types of pretty pet names–and you’re genuinely surprised it didn’t escalate further because the sexual tension was heavy.

“and then i told him i wanted a quarter– an eighth for me and an eighth for you– and he told me he’d give me a special strain of sativa for half the normal price.”

vernon’s eyes widened, “half the price?”

“that’s what i said!” you exclaim. “pretty sure it’s because he could see my tits… i wasn’t wearing the best outfit …”

of-fucking-course he could see your tits. vernon holds back a groan, seeing as his suspicions about you in a tank top that night was right. instead, he chuckles airly. “now who needs to be modest.”

“stooop, just grind the weed.” you cry.

vernon does as you ask, muttering, “maybe he laced it.”

“cheol wouldn’t, i’m pretty sure he just likes me.” you humbly reply, shooting daggers at your best friend for even suggesting that. “plus the strain was called ‘green crack’ or something like that… it was from the ‘st. patty’s day special.’”

“saint patrick’s day was like 4 weeks ago.”

“well then he was either trying to get rid of it or my tits must’ve made him feel generous.” you joke, giggling a bit at vernon’s poker face.

vernon is hiding it really well, but he’s filled with so much annoyance. your stupid dealer doesn’t deserve to see you like that. hell, vernon doesn’t even think he deserves to see you like that, but, fuck, he wants to. so badly. seeing you all hot and bothered with your tits on full display would be a dream come true.

“would you fuck him for free weed?” he asks all of a sudden, making you blush furiously. he knows now that he doesn’t want to hear your answer when your mouth parts in shock.

“vernon! what kinda girl do you take me for?” you put your hand over your chest as if it’s something you wouldn’t do. you break your facade when he gives you a knowing look, mouth cracking into a grin. “probably, i dunno. he’s kinda scary but i feel like he knows how to please a woman– i can’t say the same about a lot of other men.”

he internally rolls his eyes. cheol doesn’t know you the way he does. vernon could please you, he knows he can.

he switches the subject back to the packed joint in his hands to keep from spiraling. “wanna spark it?”

you shake your head with a hum, “mmh-mmh, belated birthday boy gets the first few hits.”

he smiles, pulling the joint to his lips taking the lighter, igniting it with the pressure of his thumb. he lets the flame burn carefully through the paper, inhaling a large rush of smoke. he holds it in for a bit before he blows it out– away from your face– creating a white, potent-smelling cloud.

you reminisce while watching him. your balcony is like home to you and vernon. contrary to your neighbor's beliefs, smoking isn’t the only thing you do. you laugh and cry and talk for hours about people you hate and people you love. sometimes, you’ll do homework out here and when vernon is bored at his own place, he’ll come over to yours to keep you company. he provides a comforting presence and never-ending encouragement while reminding you to take breaks.

it’s where you told him about your puppy crush on soonyoung from your statistics class and it’s where he told you about how he awkwardly lost his virginity to a girl during orientation week. it’s where the two of you are always together– it’s kinda like your place.

and watching him after all these years, you’ve never really realized how attractive your best friend was. well, that’s a lie. you’ve always thought vernon was likely one of the prettiest men to ever walk the earth, but if you truly admitted that, then you’d have to admit to the other things. things like how kind and considerate he is and how he’s boyfriend potential and how you totally don’t have any type of feelings for him whatsoever. it’s not a crush, you constantly have to remind yourself, it’s admiration for your best friend. there’s a difference.

but those admirable traits are things you can’t think about because he doesn’t see you that way. there’s no reason why you should see him that way if it’s not reciprocated. it only makes sense and prevents brutal rejection from the most perfect man on earth, aka your best friend.

but your not-crush manifests itself sometimes. like when he smiles at you or when he randomly places his headphones over your head and tells you to “listen to this song” or when he spends the night in your bed because he’s too lazy to drive home. it gets harder and harder to hide every day.

he passes the joint to you with an even lazier grin and you take it, parroting his actions. you let the smoke fill your lungs, hold it there, and exhale, shutting your eyes just as he did.

and vernon thinks you look like a goddess. how could you make a simple action seem so attractive?

you take your hits, passing the joint back and forth till it suddenly hits you. all at once, you feel your body start to ache, your tummy flipping in anticipation, your mind fogging over leaving your entirety to buzz. you shift a bit and you feel your cunt dampen causing you to let out a sharp exhale.

“you good?” vernon asks, his deep voice filling your ears.

then you look at him. like… actually look at him. his face is a bit tired, his eyes red from the weed coursing his system, and his hair a bit disheveled from running his hand through it too much (this is why he wears the beanies)-- nevertheless, he looks fucking fantastic.

your usual munchies are replaced with strong, burning sexual desire. just at the sight of your best friend, your pussy is soaking through your panties and your shorts.

“‘sol,” you murmur out the nickname. “do you feel… different?” you ask, eyes fluttering and lips parting.

you’re truly unaware of how seductive you look and how it’s slowly taking years off his life. vernon has been rock hard in his sweats for a solid 15 minutes now. and, yes, he feels extremely different. turned on to say the very least.

“mmm, a little,” more like a lot. “maybe it’s the strain you got,” he mumbles, implying what he had said earlier was true.

it makes sense that cheol provided you with a strain that feels like you’re smoking a fucking aphrodisiac, but you’re starting to wish you were alone so you could at least do something about it.

for a split second, you think you might be fine, then you’re hit with yet another wave of arousal, your core pulsing at the ideas that are incessantly popping into your head. ideas of him taking you right now, sitting on his face, sinking onto his cock– it’s too much.

“vernon,” you say breathily and he freezes, pulling the joint away from his lips. “i… i think…”

you try to think about how to kick him out kindly so you can have some much-needed alone time, but you can’t– you can only think about having alone time with him. alone time that leads to shoving his hand down your pants.

stop, you tell your hazy brain.

“Y/N, what’s wrong?” he asks, scooting closer to you.

his scent floods your senses– a mix of weed and his cologne causing sensory overload in your poor brain and aching core.

he’s internally worried that you’re greening out. though it doesn’t happen as much as it did when you first started smoking, there are rare occasions when you take more than you can handle.

“c-can… you do me a favor?”

“‘course, anything.”

“vernon… it… i…need your help.” you whimper, leaning into him. “please…feels like ‘m gonna die.”

you’re being dramatic.

he furrows his brows in confusion, panic becoming apparent on his features. “what hurts, Y/N? how can i help you?”

you take his hand in yours, slowly guiding him to the ache in your body. you gasp when his warm fingers come in contact with your clothed cunt. “here… it hurts here.” you exhale.

vernon has definitely lost it. his hand is between your thighs and your smaller one has moved to tightly wrap around his wrist. you’re a mess– he can feel it. he can feel the warmth radiating from your core, he can feel how you’ve soaked through your panties and how it’s seeped through the thin pair of shorts. he’s holding his breath and he fears he may pass out before getting a chance to touch you like you deserve.

“y-you’re not in your right mind, Y/N,” he whispers, afraid his voice may betray him. “you smoked too–”

“uh-uh, it’s okay– vernon, it’s okay, i want you… please,” you whimper, grip around his wrist tightening as you buck your hips slightly for more friction.

you want him. you… want him.

“but–”

you’re growing frustrated, “if you won’t… then i-i think you should go ‘cuz i need… i need to be alone.”

vernon takes this as an implication that you need to fuck yourself if he won’t fuck you and he’ll be damned if he’s not the one making you see stars.

so, he asks one more time, “Y/N… are you sure?”

“yes… yes, ‘m sure. ‘m so sure, please, ‘sol,” you beg, using the nickname that makes him fold every time.

he doesn’t hold back, putting out the joint in his hand and leaving it in the ashtray. his now-free hand cups your cheek, pulling you in for a kiss. you moan, eagerly allowing his tongue to slip into your mouth as your hands needily fist at his shirt.

despite having smoked, vernon’s lips are soft. softer than the lips of men you’ve kissed before. and he still tastes good even with the pungent lemony flavor lingering on his tongue– overwhelmingly good. it seems that he’s just as eager and turned on as you are, too, nearly devouring you whole. you can’t help but fall in love with the heated, now-sloppy kiss.

and vernon truly feels like he’s died and gone to heaven. he’s not sure if this is even real or if the weed has him hallucinating… it wouldn’t be the first time, but you biting down on his bottom lip has him coming back to earth and lets him know that you’re real. that you are very much real and very much grinding on his fingers desperately.

“vernon,” you pant, pulling him closer by the shirt in your grip. “please, more— feels good, but i need more.” your hazy eyes look into his and you see how they’ve darkened.

“fuck, Y/N,” he groans and his voice has you clenching around nothing. “we need to go inside…”

you’re both sure that this might ruin your relationship, but you decide it’ll be a problem for tomorrow. right now, all either of you can think about is getting off on each other.

that’s why you’re quick to stand on your feet, holding out your hand for him to take. when he stands, grunting, you pull him into your apartment and leave all of your goods on the balcony without a second thought.

you drag him to your room before attacking him with another kiss and pulling at the ends of his shirt. you’re a bit disoriented, swaying and stumbling over your steps, but when your legs hit the bed and you nearly fall, vernon’s quick to catch you by the waist.

“careful,” he murmurs, gently laying you on the plush mattress. you scoot to the head of the bed, laying on your back as you wait for him.

he takes your expectant face as a sign to remove his clothing and he does so quickly, knowing how impatient you are at this very moment. his shirt comes off and then his sweats, leaving him in boxers where his bulge becomes… apparent.

you have to hold your breath at the dizzying sight of his naked torso and the massive tent in his underwear.

you make grabby hands at him, urging him to come take care of you on the bed. he obliges, getting on your bed, hovering over you while his own head spins. he’s truly unsure if this is actually his real life or if he’s having a dream sent from the gods above.

he decides not to wait any longer, taking control of the situation by placing his lips on your heated neck. his lips trail down, leaving sloppy, wet kisses on your skin, reveling in how you desperately whimper for him though he’s barely doing anything.

his hands reach for the hem of your loose top– one that might actually be his– pushing it up and tugging it over your head and arms, leaving your chest bare before him. he groans before diving to your tits, wrapping his lips around one of your nipples, sucking and tugging at the bud hungrily.

you gasp at the sight. you’ve never seen vernon so eager to do anything in the time you’ve known him and now he’s making out with your tits as if it were his last day on earth.

that’s hot, you think to yourself. so hot– you’re so fucking hot right now.

you can’t see it, but you feel his hand come down to your sleep shorts, digging in past the elastic band of both the satin fabric and your cotton undies. his fingers dip into your lips, running them through your soaked folds.

“you’re so wet.” he hisses.

you whine at the contact, apologizing softly, “‘m sorry– can’t help it.”

his fingers find your hole, circling it before easing two of them inside. “don’t apologize, baby. it’s really hot.” he whispers, the pet name slipping past his lips without completely registering.

you clench and moan at the domestic name. “fuck, ‘sol,” you whimper. “a-again… call me that again…”

his face burns, whispering out, “you like when i call you ‘baby?’”

knowing vernon, it was meant to sound like a genuine question, but being in the state you’re in, it sounds so seductive… so enticing that it has your back arching. you nod your head, an even darker blush falling over your already-red cheeks.

you let out a clipped, “yes.” and he just moans, thrusting his fingers in and out faster, digits stretching your tight, gummy walls out to prepare you for his cock.

he wonders how you could be so tight because, holy fuck, you’re squeezing around his fingers like you’re trying to trap them in there.

you whine softly, “vernon, please give me more…”

he definitely just fucking died.

his cock twitches uncontrollably in his boxers, begging to be set free, but he decides to give you another finger instead. vernon knows he’s… a bit on the bigger side, and judging by how you feel right now, there’s absolutely no way he’ll easily fit inside of you. the last thing he wants to do is hurt you.

so he slowly pulls his hand out of your shorts and helps you out of them. he throws them to the side and has you spread open. he huffs at the sight before taking three of his fingers back to your hole. he pushes them in gently, groaning at the tighter fit. your moans are bouncing off the walls and vernon looks up to see your mouth hung open with your head thrown back against your pillow.

he checks on you, throat dry at the sound, sight, and feeling of you. “i-is… are you doing okay?” and when you just whine, he bites the inside of his cheek anxiously. he remembers your fondness for the pet names from a few minutes prior, so he tries again. “baby… does it feel good?”

and he’s not sure what to expect, but when your body jolts and your hand's fist at the sheets, you get even tighter, clenching around his fingers desperately. you really do have an affinity for being called ‘baby.’

your brain is jumbled, intoxicated from the weed and his fat fingers stretching your cunt open. “‘m okay… f-feels so good.” you tell him breathily with a whine bubbling in the back of your throat at the feeling of his fingers pushing further into you. “fuck, vernon– it’s so good.”

and it’s true, you don’t think you’ve ever experienced pleasure this intense before, but you remember your senses are heightened by 10 because of the drug. that ‘green crack’ is insane.

he moans at the confirmation, curling his fingers up and fucking your messy cunt, the palm of his hand bumping against your clit with every thrust. he feels a rush of your honeyed arousal soaking his fingers and he swears he might cum before he can even get his cock in you.

you gasp loudly when you feel his pace quicken, eyes squeezing shut. an array of mewls and high-pitched whines shamelessly slip past your lips. “oh! fuck, i’m close, i’m so close, vernon.” you warn, wet walls clamping around his curled fingers.

he exhales sharply, voice low when he urges you, “cum for me, baby.”

his voice and harsh thrusts are more than enough to throw you over the edge, stomach knots unraveling. you gush all over his big fingers, pussy pulsing as it’s doing its best to push his digits out, but he continues his ministrations to work you through your blinding orgasm.

feeling you cum may have been the best thing life has offered him.

“fuck, that’s it– are you okay? did that feel good?” he asks breathily, pulling out his fingers, a string of arousal connected to your hole following them out. he bites his lip at the sight, keeping a moan bottled up. he wants to taste you so bad… and the cum on his fingers taunt him.

you nod your head, still panting, “w-was so good, y-you’re really good… don’t usually cum that fast…”

“really?”

you shake your head, “t-told you that guys don’t really know what they’re doing most of the time.”

he shakes his head in disapproval, “well… you deserve the best.”

“... like you?” your heart races and the weed from earlier still lingers like a cloud over your brain. you look at him, the soft light from the moon illuminating his flawless skin. your eyes trail down his torso, eyes landing on the big bulge in his boxers again.

he chokes, masking the sound with a nervous chuckle, “me? i-i’m not…no.” your eyes widen, realizing you’ve completely misread him, feeling panic flood your body. you quickly shut your legs, arms coming to cover your bare chest.

he’s quick to notice that you’re starting to spiral, though, so he re-registers what you said and then what he said and his eyes widen, too. his words come out rushed as he attempts to do damage control. “no! not no, as in i don’t see you in that way, but no because you deserve the best and…”

“but… you are the best, ‘sol…” you tell him softly, hugging yourself tighter. “and before you say anything, the weed is wearing off– think you finger-fucked it out of me,” you joke to lighten the mood, but when you see he’s still frozen, you internally cringe at yourself, continuing. “i’m being serious. i’m in my right mind and i’m telling you that you’re the best because you are. you always have been.”

he shudders nervously, “Y/N… don’t.”

you frown at him, turning your head away to look at your window instead, mentally face-palming yourself. “did i make it awkward again?” you ask nervously. you don’t even wait for his response, continuing your anxious ramble. “can you just forget i said anything? and that i made you do this? i…i don’t wanna lose you– i never want to lose you.” you whisper. “you’re my best friend.”

he shakes his head incessantly as if he’s trying to tell you something with the simple action, but you aren’t even looking at him, so he takes a deep, shaky breath. “no, you didn’t make me do anything. i just mean don’t say things like that if you don’t really like me because i…” he trails off and you turn back to look at him, concerned by his sudden halt. “Y/N, i… like you. so much. i have for forever now, but you were always talking about soonyoung or cheol and then there was that whole thing with that pretentious art kid– minghao, i think– i dunno.”

what!?

you look at him incredulously, eyes wide and lips parted in genuine shock, “why didn’t you tell me…?”

he sighed, hands coming to rest on your thighs. “it seemed like i never really had a chance… you’re my best friend, too… and i didn’t want to lose you either.”

you sit up, exclaiming, “but you’ve liked me this entire time and i didn’t even know?!”

he gives you a small grin and a shrug, “what can i say? i’m discreet.”

you scoff, sitting in silence for a few seconds before opening your mouth again. with your voice meek, you say.“i wish you would’ve told me.” you inhale sharply, continuing to hug yourself tightly. “i like you, too, you know… i just didn’t think you liked me back so i tried to not like you– which is really hard, by the way, because you’re annoyingly pretty.”

“sorry, i’ll try to stop being so pretty.”

you playfully slap his bare chest, “i actually hate you so much.”

he jokingly sulks, placing a hand over where you hit him. “aw, baby, you just said you liked me.”

you shudder, body naturally leaning into him as your mind gravitates back to your not-so-innocent thoughts. “i do… and i’d like you a little more if you kept calling me that.”

his breath hitches as you get closer and closer, “yeah?”

“mhm…”

he whispers against your lips, a cheeky smile on his, “you’re such a baby.”

“you’re so mean,” you hum, letting your lips graze his. “am i not your baby?”

he rests his forehead against yours and looks into your eyes for any sign of playfulness. you seem to be serious so he asks, “is that what you want?” he’s nervous you can hear the way his heart is about to pound out of his chest.

“duh… idiot.”

“okay, cool.” he says nonchalantly even though he’s internally freaking out. “you’re my baby.”

your heart skips a beat and your cunt dampens again at the title, “okay, cool.” you parrot casually as if your heart wasn’t about to lurch out of your chest. “you can… kiss me. if you want…”

vernon utters a soft ‘right’ before finally closing the gap between the two of you. his lips mold to yours and you know for a fact that there is no one else on earth you’d want to kiss. his big hand comes to cup your cheek and you melt under the touch, mouth opening for him to slip his tongue into.

naturally, the kiss heats up and before long, you’re whining into his mouth, hand blindly reaching for his clothed cock. he groans the second you find the aching hard-on, nimble hands stroking him through his boxers.

“Y/N,” he pants breathily in between kisses. “are you… sure you wanna… do this?”

you think it’s sweet that he keeps checking on you, and sure, you’re still a bit fuzzy from the after-effects of the ‘green crack’, but you need him to give you what you want. so you nod, breaking from the kiss to lay back in your original position under him.

“please fuck me, baby,” you beg in the most sultry voice you can conjure up. when he stays frozen, you pout. “hansol, please.”

he curses, quickly getting his boxers off and revealing the prettiest dick you’ve ever seen. precum beads at the slit of his flushed tip and prominent veins run through the length. he’s so big, surely enough to have you see stars. you’re starting to feel grateful that he prepped you because his dick would have completely ruined you without it.

“‘s big.” you simply state, bottom lip finding sanctum in between your teeth as you gawk at it.

“you think so?” he gives you a wobbly smile, stomach-churning at the subtle praise. he moves in between your thighs and spreads you out for him. “is it okay?”

you blush, nodding your head, “mhm, don’t worry,” you tell him. “i’ll let you know if i need you to stop.”

he nods, huffing softly, “do you have any condoms?”

you chuckle breathily. “not for your size… but it’s okay, i’m clean and safe. you don’t need one. you can pull out if it makes you feel better.”

his throat runs dry– fuck, fuck, fuck. he’s fucking you raw?! how the hell is he supposed to last hitting it raw?! you were already tight around three of his fingers and he can’t even imagine how you’d feel wrapped around his cock.

he realizes he hasn’t replied in a few seconds when you say his name softly. he sees you growing restless under him and he apologizes and nods again dumbly.

he runs his tip through your folds, moaning when he finds you’re just as wet as you were earlier. he aligns himself with your leaky hole, slowly pushing himself inside of you with a groan to find that you’re still so fucking tight.

you’ve found that, despite vernon’s laid-back and chill personality, he’s quite loud in bed. he’s nothing like you expected and you’re pleasantly surprised.

when his cock slides in between your tight walls, the both of you are instantly a mess, panting and moaning in pleasure. your walls envelop him so snugly that you fear the thick veins that adorn his length will imprint into them.

“fuck, vernon.” you moan, praying the burn in your pussy melts to pleasure soon so he can fuck you the way you want it. the way you need it. . “your cock.”

he hisses, pushing in past the resistance. “you feel so good, baby, oh my god.” he grunts, head falling back at the way you hug him. “god, i’ve wanted this for so long– wanted you for so long.”

you cry, clenching around his girth because, god, you’ve wanted him, too.

when he finally bottoms out, you both pause to take erratic breaths, positively going feral over each other. he attempts to recollect himself and check up on you again. “are you–”

you don’t even let him finish, nodding your head vigorously. “yes, vernon, just need you to move, please.” you plead. “need you to fuck me– please, need it so fucking bad.”

you’re so needy for him and he knows it’s because of the last bit of weed that looms, but he can’t help but wonder if you’re like this on a normal day. if you’re always begging for a cock to fill you up. not that it would matter– he’d do anything you asked of him. you’re so fucking pretty to him and his brain is constantly yelling at him to cater to every single one of your wishes. the chokehold you have him in is so tight.

tight like your pretty cunt that’s now gracefully swallowing his cock with every thrust of his hips. your room is full of panting, moans, and the lewd squelch of your wet pussy taking him. it sounds better than any song he’s ever heard and, if he’s being completely transparent, he hopes to experience this for the rest of his life.

vernon unexpectedly comes down, craning his neck to latch his mouth around your nipples again, stimulating you there, too. you’re sure the position is a bit straining, but he doesn’t seem to mind as he moans loudly into your chest. his hand plays with the other nipple, switching every minute to give both of them love and attention all while his cock steadily rams in and out of you.

your hands tangle in his hair, smothering his face into your tits while he moans and whines some more into them.

and when he adjusts slightly and his tip hits that spot, the one that makes you crumble in seconds, a sob wracks through your entire body.

“there! shit, baby, right there, please.” you gasp, back arching into him.

vernon asks breathily, removing his face from the comfortable spot on your chest, “there? that’s it?”

and you nod, chest rising and falling at a rapid pace as you feel the pressure build-up at the bottom of your tummy. he continues to hit the spongy spot inside of you, bringing you closer and closer.

his own face is pinched and he can’t stop the soft whines that come out of his mouth. you just feel fucking amazing.

“a-are you close? i’m not gonna last long.” he pants out.

and you weakly sob out a reply of ‘yes,’ hand moving to toy with your swollen clit. the action immediately has the tightrope inside of you coming undone for the second time in the night. you mewl out his name, clamping around him tightly and coating his cock in slick cum.

it’s like a chain reaction that has vernon cursing and pulling his dick out of you. he eagerly fists at his cock, jerking himself off till he releases all over your puffy pussy. he’s moaning softly, prettily calling out your name. his heart pounds rapidly and his entire body twitches at the feeling of release.

his eyes finally open after a few seconds of trying to regulate his breathing. he sees the way your cunt is dressed in white and how you're slowly, but surely, coming down from both of your highs.

“hey,” he whispers.

“hi,” you mumble, eyes fluttering open. your hands reach for him and he can’t help but find you so cute. “c’mere.”

he smiles, leaning down to kiss you again. unlike your past few kisses, it’s soft and innocent. loving. he parts after a minute or so, hand moving to sweep the hair out of your face.

“are you sure you’re alright?” he whispers. “i feel kinda bad…”

“don’t, ‘sol, i wanted it. i’m really happy.” you tell him sincerely. “are you alright?”

he sighs, “i’m really happy, too… i just wish i would’ve taken you out on a date or something before… fucking you.”

you shake your head, “we did it kinda backwards, but, seriously, i’m just happy you’re here… happy that you’re mine.” he blushes, moving to hide his face in your neck while you giggle. “if you wanna, we can go on a date now?”

“where?” he mumbles into your neck.

“7/11– channie’s working so that means free big gulps and rollers… you know, since some of us can’t afford to eat real food because of their ‘job.’”

vernon scoffs, pulling his face out of your neck and giving you a stern look. “dude, it’s a real job–”

you laugh, effectively cutting him off. “okay, scammer– if it’s a real job, why are you always stealing my fucking weed instead of buying your own?”

“because weed is scarce these days and your bitch ass dealer hates me– why should i have to pay $20 for a gram when you only pay $5?” he nearly cries. “and, since we’re on the topic, i don’t like him. he’s too friendly with you.” that’s code for “he obviously wants to fuck you.”

“you’re jealous of cheol!”

he groans, rolling his eyes, a tiny pout appearing on his face, “so what if i am?”

you coo, “aw, baby,” hand coming to cup his blushy cheek. “you don’t have to worry about him,” you relay to him, voice laced with sincerity. “you’re the only one i want.”

he goes a little bug-eyed at your words before clearing his throat and nodding. “good. that’s good.”

you raise an eyebrow, “just good?”

“no… it’s great…” he mumbles cutely. “you’re also the only one i want.”

#vernon smut #hansol smut #vernon x reader #svt smut #seventeen smut

3K notes · View notes

koinotame · 2 months ago

Text

word count: 1.7K content warnings: general yandere content warnings and allusions to nsfw/sex but nothing super explicit

summary: it's your birthday!!!! what it's like celebrating with my ocs

a/n: i can now legally drink in a country i'll never visit 🎉 + bc i'm feeling nice another sneak peek of the new guys as well

gacha isekai group:

first prince: only finds out after your birthday has passed because he's still doing the hot and cold act and genuinely breaks down crying. is lucid enough to realise maybe you're trying to be discreet so only hosts an elaborate dinner for the two of you instead of a national banquet and a barrage of gifts he think you'd enjoy

first hero: terrible gift giver who spends the entire day fussing over you. holds open doors, carries all your things, flexes when you ask because you like his muscles even if he's burning from how embarrassed he is, reminds you you could do anything to him and he'd still love you forever and ever and ever and— and so on

second hero: between the fact that you're almost definitely already overwhelmed from your entire harem and you treat (unfortunately most of your harem and not just) him like an object anyway, he doesn't dare get close on the actual day. a couple days later he just kind of silently presses something small but meaningful into your hands and wishes you a happy belated birthday. you pat him on the head dismissively and send his stomach soaring, but you look happy with it so it was worth spending his entire month's salary on

vampire: shows up in your bedroom in the morning dressed in basically nothing except a rose in his mouth and offers himself to you. he's your toy any day anyway but you can make extra use of him today… when this doesn't land he's distraught and attempts to make it up to you by buying you some really extravagant tools or materials you'll make use of

werewolf: doesn't have much to offer, so… you mentioned you were interested in seeing his true form a while ago, right? do you… want to see that now? he'd tower over you like this if he wasn't so busy rolling up at your feet and showing you his tummy. you can take him out on a walk with a leash, humanoid or true form, but to be fair you could do that any day

playboy: his gifts are surprisingly practical; think something like a water canteen or some very soft, very fluffy towels. he takes you out on a little tea party date as well, ready with all your favourite pastries, then offers to play and/or sing you a couple songs. overall focuses on giving you a nice, calm couple hours, partially because he loves you and partially because he's trying to cement himself as the better, more thoughtful option lol

immortal: brings you breakfast and surprises you with several hand sewn, incredibly sturdy and very much your style pieces of clothing. since your own had been getting a little ragged, and you complimented his sewing once… see, this one's even in the style of your clothes from back home! seeing how you've been homesick lately, he thought he could alleviate that a little for you. and if you'd really like him to, he could give you a kiss as a gift too…

living doll: since they don't technically have any living expenses, the army just kind of… doesn't pay them… so they don't have much to work with for gifts and frankly they don't really get the point of celebrating something like the day you were born on, but they let you dress them up really nicely and offers to match so they can at least make you look better throughout the day

lab experiment: gives you a handwritten light collection (it's a whole book) of poems and little pieces of art they've made of and/or for you. the contents are kind of concerning but the gesture is really sweet. also gets you some pressed flowers and your favourite treats, then ends up rushing back to their room to hide because they're worried none of this is enough for you

mage's apprentice: spends the week before your birthday asking you strange questions and hiding away in their atelier. you don't see much of them on the actual day until the evening when they shakily wish you a happy birthday and drag you out to the gardens, where they've prepared a special fireworks show just for you

disgraced god: doesn't know it's your birthday at first because the concept is kind of entirely foreign to them, but is not about to be outshined by the rest of your harem. they're always at your beck and call anyway, but they make sure to up the doting (and monopolise you as much as possible) to the max on your special day

servant: it's not really his intention, but he ends up coming off as if he's trying to prove what a good husband he'd make to you. he gets you some trinkets you've been eyeing for a while, but also some of the officials who'd been giving you a hard time recently have seemingly vanished off the face of the world and he seems extra proud of himself today…

otome game group:

crown prince: national banquet!!! no i'm serious he throws an incredibly extravagant banquet for you. his father isn't super pleased about the misuse of funds but allows it since the two of you will be married soon anyway. gets you so many gifts it's a little scary. at least one of those is a collar and leash he wants you to put around his neck and absolutely wants you to dig in to him

heroine: doesn't really have the financial means to get you much, so instead she invites you to meet her family and spend the day in her house. apologises for how it's not much but expresses how happy she is that you're willing to spend the day with her and makes sure to cook all your favourites

villainess: invites you to spend the entire week surrounding your birthday at her estate, and then spends literally every single day celebrating your birthday, including daily banquets and a massive pile of gifts. expressing worry that this is too much just makes her go harder, because clearly you don't understand how important you are to her and spoiling you more will fix this

1: not to worry! he's already chased off your three persistent noble suitors, so you can spend all day at your own leisure. and if you're upset—either at the hassle with the other three, or at his actions—well, you can always take it out on him? he's already always there, but like today he really turns up the doting. overjoyed when you push him out of the way while pulling on his hair at one point

2: pools together some of his savings to buy you a nice piece of jewellery. presents it to you shyly when you have a moment to yourself and offers to take you out to a restaurant if you're willing to sneak out… or you can have him in the comfort of your bedroom, if you'd like

3: just kind of shows up at your estate with a bouquet, a couple handmade plushies in what they hope are your favourite animals and some blessed protective charms. if they have reason to believe you'd react well, they might as well just straight up offer themself. not in a sexual way (unless you want it to be), you just own every part of them already so if it pleases you you might as well make it official

4: playing 4d chess with the crown prince and villainess to ensure she's the only one who gets to celebrate with you on your birthday. takes you out on a fun day to the capital, where she gets to buy you tons of gifts and also play the role of your personal princely knight

5: can't take the day off (spends a long time bemoaning this) but since it's customary for you to stop by his place of work for your birthday anyway he decides he'll just give you your gift then. gives you a very professional congratulatory speech, a slightly less professional brooch set that fits you to a t, and (if he thinks you'll react positively) a considerably less professional offer for you to be the one to give him nipple piercings

misc group:

house husband: makes you take the day off work to spend it doting on you. you best believe he's spent the last couple of months saving up some money to buy you gifts so tailored to you it's almost a little creepy. also brings you breakfast in bed, bakes you the best cake you've ever had and has a reservation planned for dinner at your favourite… and is definitely the type to tell you you have one more gift to unwrap at the end of the day (it's him)

horror protagonist: lol. she bounds up to you super cheerfully and gives you the eyes of her teammate, since you said you liked them so much a bit ago… you don't question how she knows your birthday at this point. is glued to your side the entire day (though you begrudgingly admit she's less annoying than usual) and offers to cook or bake something for you. doesn't mind (at all) if you want to take your stress out on her, but… she's trying to be sweet for today

6: takes the day off from his work despite your many complaints and spends it with you, insisting it's his turn to spoil you for once. you're actually kind of impressed at how accurate his gifts are to your tastes and how he managed to get them without you noticing. it's sweet until he takes the opportunity to attempt to coax you into taking advantage of him, lingerie in your favourite colour and style and all

7: spends his entire allowance on giving you the best day possible, but he's fumbling so hard for most of it. a special limited edition for your favourite game that's not worth the money, some admittedly very soft plushies of your favourite animals, and a new bag since you'd been complaining your current one was falling apart… spends the entire day trying to hype himself up to give you a kiss but doesn't quite manage. feels terrible about how lacklustre his attempt was (despite how happy you are) and vows to himself to make the next much, much more enjoyable for you

#some of these are better than others but whatever it's the most i've written in a good while

72 notes · View notes

leclsrc · 1 year ago

Note

hi auds!! it's my birthday today ;) i never send reqs i know you get a whole ton of them but if you ever got around to this- i think the f1 fic world has a very worrying lack of aus. so could i get a band!charles au drabble where he writes a song about reader and she hears it on the radio? any song you like. reader could be driver or something or connected to f1 if thats cool !!! thank you sm!! i love you

knee socks – cl16

There’s a certain inevitability that comes with having sex with a misaligned, conceited lead guitarist of a band. You aren’t aware of this fact until it hits you in-between your brows with the force of an 18-wheeler truck, at 8AM, through the radio in your car.

genre: drabble... lots of smutty allusions

auds here... happy birthday anon, one month and then some later! to be completely honest i almost deleted this... but through some twist of fate, it was the only thing i could bully into completion lol (aside frm long form fics that i'm still working on) this is 1000% for u and i hope u accept it as a belated bday gift :) i agree btw! id love to see more au fics but it is still nice reading the canon compliant type ones hahah. also the song in this and its and title is of course from this

It was surprising enough to hear an announcement of a new single by The Incident, one that seemingly sprouted out of nowhere, sans promotion. The morning BBC show clobbered the song with theories before finally letting the drawled-out, sticky guitar filter through and into your car. That in itself was odd, sure. Maybe shocking a little. But you leaned into the leather seat and remained quiet.

When you were fifteen, you were convinced the lyrics to Hall & Oates’ “Rich Girl” pinned up perfectly to your (insufferable) personality of the time. Raised in a big family and working in a career of refined prestige, your budding skill and already-cemented name in the modeling industry were just two small indicators of your parents’ massive wealth. Of course, neither Hall nor Oates were actually sitting and writing songs and singing about you—you just found it made sense in one way or another.

That was three years before you met Charles three years ago, at a pub in Soho. His band had only just spilled out of the confines of Soundcloud and seedy managers; they’d broken five million monthly listeners and the throng of people were there to watch them live. You were at the pub for a pint with another friend and left him with your number, a slip of paper tinged with beer; he fished out the nearest surface you could write on from a nearby bowl. Do I Wanna Know? it read in rushed cursive. It was a song request that went unfulfilled.

Rumors flew in your circle. Your father soured at the idea of you seeing somebody he wasn’t actively doing business with, but he failed to realize how limited your dating pool would be if you followed his wishes. Your interactions with the Formula One men he sponsored or worked with, however few and far between, were rancid and impolite. The drivers wore expensive brands, ones that didn’t even fall familiar on people’s ears, but refused to tip beyond three pounds. It came as both a shock and no surprise that the nouveau rich rock singer treated you with more decency than any of them did.

He was shy about it first, knowing how filthy rich you were. He made jokes about how his flat could fit in your kitchen twice over. He spoke what little French he remembered from childhood to impress you, paid for takeout, wore Lacoste when he came over to drink—then fuck—because it was, at the time, the most decent brand he owned. It’d been January when he came over, caught a sight of you at the foyer with all your expensive coats hung up. Your tongue was blue with a lozenge. It was the only thing he could look at while fucking you.

He wore a light blue variant once, fit and snug on him. You wrestled it off him in-between hot, sweet kisses, kept it on your bed so it’d be the first thing you tugged on in the morning before a shoot for a brand you can no longer place.

The last time you saw him he’d shown you lyrics, sang them aloud, drummed the beat he thought of on the skin of your thigh. His accent disappeared into rasp and notes. You told him to perform it live and he fucked you splayed up against your door, bent over your counter, then with your knees pressed to your chest on your white sheets, warm from the laundry. S’good for me, aren’t you, princess? All for me. My filthy girl.

Two hours later: I’m going on tour, sweetheart, he’d said while he cleaned you up.

’Til? Or… like, for long? Naked, you wrapped your blanket around your frame.

Ah, oui. For a while.

You failed to answer amicably, your eyebrows twisting. You didn’t think to tell me? Just up and leave then? No number, no text, no announcement, just— You exhaled tightly. You knew he didn’t owe you anything of the sort; the sex, you guessed, the company had been so good you’d deluded yourself into thinking so.

Kitten—

Don’t call me that, you huffed, angrier now. Petulant. You got up and crowded him ’til you got to the door. Get the fuck out.

You watched him leave, brown leather jacket and black tee disappearing into London, and wrenched memories of him from the depths of your brain, the two years of your back and forth rendezvous. You wondered why you didn’t get a song in that time, after his ascent to fame, after the release of other hit singles inspired by his bandmates’ gossip rags and measly shags.

So a year later, when the memories have just begun to purge themselves—when the lyrics, which already have sent a swoop through your stomach, progress into the line When you walked around your house wearin' my sky blue Lacoste… and your knee socks, you effectively choke on your a.m. cappucino. It’s like “Rich Girl” all over again, but this is overt, it’s targeted. Like whoever wrote it must’ve known you’d be listening right now, en route to a shoot at eight in the morning.

“All good, miss?” Ed, your chauffeur, meets your eyes in the rearview, concerned.

“Perf—” your voice cracks. “Perfect.”

You screw your eyes shut and try to collect yourself, zeroing in on the lyrics that’d been foggy before.

Curing his January blues—the month you two started sleeping together.The fact that he’d had your number, a famous stranger, before you had his. Every beat, every word, every deep-voiced lyric traces back to you (unless, of course, he’s busying himself shagging any other girl in London on rainy Tuesdays and letting her wear his now-old polos. The thought sends a pang of jealousy through you.)

But you know better. You know you’re the only one.

Because your phone’s the only one buzzing late into the damp night—when the zeroes line up on the clock by your bed, the one he fixed up for you—with a number you’ve removed the name of, blocked at some point, but can still memorize in his absence.

Maybe tonight you’ll pick up.

#f1 #charles leclerc #charles leclerc imagines #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc drabble #charles leclerc smut #f1 x reader #anonymous

228 notes · View notes

lexi-the-demon-69 · 5 months ago

Text

Meet Ice Cream Sandwich Cookie! (CRK OC)

So, I'm honestly quite surprised I never officially made a post properly introducing you guys to my most popular CRK OC (According to the CRK OC Wiki lol). So, meet Ice Cream Sandwich Cookie: The Little Artist of Parfaedia!

Ice Cream Sandwich Cookie is an epic ambush type and is prioritized to the rear. She was once the daughter of two watchers of the Dark Cacao Kingdom who unfortunately met their end and left their child without any parents when she was freshly baked. (she now lives in an art shop in Parfaedia)

She's a distant cousin of Affogato Cookie, due to ice cream being a primary ingredient in her dough like Affogato, albeit less so. (They have met and yes, Affogato betrayed her by telling her that her parents are dead and trying to lock her up in the Citadel dungeons-) Thankfully for her, she does have the favor of the king. (Dark Cacao kinda sees her as a grandchild and so does Ice Cream Sandwich)

The paintbrush Ice Cream Sandwich Cookie holds was a gift for her 12th birthday by her belated mother, giving her the ability to create anything she wants with just a piece of blank paper. She can also destroy things with this ability as well. (Orphan has the power of God and anime on her side)

Ice Cream Sandwich Cookie is a relatively hard worker. She's upbeat and happy but can be shy whenever she meets new cookies. Whenever she meets new cookies, she'll stutter and fidget around with her paintbrush a bit. Ice Cream Sandwich Cookie is a big cookie pleaser, who has trouble saying "no" to others for fear of hurting their feelings. She relatively keeps to herself most of the time, due to having very little to no friends, sketching away in a sketchbook.

--- I love my baby very much. If you wanna learn more about her, I highly recommend you check out her CRK OC Wiki page I made! I worked pretty hard on it and I also intend to update her spritework in the future! (It's pretty pixelated from me downloading it so much A-)

Here's the link: Ice Cream Sandwich Cookie's CRK OC Wiki Page

#cookie run #cookie run kingdom #dark cacao cookie #affogato cookie #cookie run oc #cookie run kingdom oc #crk oc #crk oc art #Ice Cream Sandwich Cookie

65 notes · View notes

onlyseokmins · 2 years ago

Text

perfect, now spit in my mouth • h.v.c.

Pairing: chwe vernon x afab!reader

Genres: smut (minors dni!), established relationship!au, lyricist/composer!au

Warnings: swearing, lots of spitting/spit kink (😭), fingering (fem. receiving), tiny bit of praise kink ig, lil bit of degradation but it prolly breaks nonnie's heart tbh, breeding kink too uwu, mentions of male receiving oral lol, wap lmaooo, tiny bit of temp play but not really - you'll see, wee bit possession heh, reader likes to tease and vernon is extremely whipped :3

WC: 2.6k

A/N: vernon and black eye = spit kink so nothing new but i wrote it so it is smth new 🤷🏻‍♀️ ajskdfd no but 🥳 a very extremely happy belated birthday @junkissed i love u lots heh i hope u enjoy this since i had to change up my original plans and i'm so sorry it took a while 🥰 oh and this is also for the other feral dollies out there ily all

If there was one thing you loved about Vernon, it would be his awkwardness. It was what drew you to him.

Light coughs whenever you giggled at one of Seungkwan's silly jokes. Stifled clearing of his throat at the rare chance he got to speak with you. The abrupt avoidance of eye contact when he was startled by your sudden appearance while lost in his own world. And a jittery departure at times you got too near — one might think he actually disliked you.

But those close to him knew the truth. And whether Vernon acknowledged it or not, you were someone close to him. And also a person that could read the man very well.

The light brush of his trembling fingers pressing against your back when guiding you through a crowded market. A protective stance at your side in his leather jacket, eyes narrowed as if to dare anyone to mess with you. As if you needed to be guarded.

But the furrow of his eyebrows while doing it was too cute for you to complain.

Vernon's awkward behaviors happen so often that they might as well just be normal anyways. A gummy smile and the characteristic wrinkles of his nose were enough to make up for any peculiar habits around you.

Especially after you say yes when he works up enough courage, stuttering while asking you to finally be his. Fumbling for the matching couple's bracelets he'd worked several double-shifts for in his pocket. Brown eyes sparkling and reflecting the same joy in yours even after he drops the box in a puddle. Not like you had any plans on saying no, though.

Those chocolate-colored eyes stare down at you now in wonder as Vernon holds himself above you. His left hand placed by your ear is decorated with the silver circlet holding your birthstone while wrapped around his neck, your right arm's accessory jingles with its amethyst charm. The pair of one-year anniversary gifts pierced in your earlobes sparkle in the low light of your shared bedroom, complimenting your cherished bracelets.

He's no longer as weird with you as before. As in, his fleeting touches now linger comfortably and he can almost read you just as well as you always have him.

Yet he still questions with pure wonder. As if he can't quite believe you're actually real in his arms and on his bed. Like you didn't give him the best suck of his fat cock for the hundredth time.

"You want me to what?"

"Spit in my mouth, baby. Did I stutter before?"

"N-no, I just — "

His eyes are blown wide, mouth still hanging open from when you first posed the notion. You put your hand on the side of his face, gently stroking his cheek with your thumb.

"Sometimes you treat me too gently. You can be a little rough, you know I like it."

"What if you break?"

"I'm not that fragile, goofball."

"I know but what if you hate me?" Vernon whispers, though his eyes do not leave yours. They shine, showcasing all his vulnerabilities. "I like you so much I think I'll die if you do."

"Silly, then stop thinking so much. It's not like I'm asking you to slap me and call me a whore." You smile coyly. "Although it's not like I'd be opposed to such things." When he whines your name you laugh. "Okay, okay… a later time then."

He flops his forehead on your bare shoulder. "I can't believe you."

"Can't believe you'd write something like "I'll spit in your mouth" and not do it," you pout and he lets out a defeated sigh.

"You know most of those lyrics weren't like… literal."

"Then what's the point?"

Your boyfriend can see how your eyes flash with teasing mischief so he shrugs in an attempt to put up a strong face. "I… draw inspiration from all kinds of experiences. Before, during… our relationship."

"… What about after? Are you planning to break up with me at some point?"

"Uh, wait — "

"Omigosh, then do you plan to murder me in the near future?"

"No, what? All I meant was I write things that aren't about you, sometimes."

"I know that," you assure him in his panic. "Sooooo," you drawl out, switching gears and pushing him onto his back so you can sit on top. You're both shirtless but have your undergarments on. "If we were to fuck often in the studio, would you write more songs about me?"

"God, baby," he groans, hand flying to your hips, "do you think I'd even have the time to think with you bouncing all loud and gorgeous on my dick? What's gonna happen when I lose my studio rights?"

Pleased at how Vernon's body is so reactive — cock hardening again and twitching sensitively in his boxers at the obscene thoughts — you grind down lightly. "Then we fuck even more. All day," you lean down and whisper right in his ear, "and all night."

"Shit, you're so dirty. So good to me. All for me."

"Of course," you swivel your hips, fingers brushing up the sides of your body, "all yours."

His gaze follows the colors of your pretty manicured nails until they settle to cover your breasts. They still shine with saliva and feel a little sore from him worshiping them earlier. You grab at them with a light squeeze and press down harder against him, taking in every reaction. The way his eyes roll back at how much you're soaking through the thin fabric of his boxers makes you feel like a god.

"Even when "I'm on my worst behavior"."

"You are so not using my lyrics in bed."

"Hey, I did earlier 'cause they do make great dirty talk so "don't stop me now", Vernonnie." You wink when all the poor man can do is roll his eyes. "See, "how you like me now"?"

He urges you back over to your previous position. "I do love you but if you want me to spit in your mouth, I think I'm gonna have to be on top."

You simply hum, the sudden electrifying zing in the air making you quiver in anticipation. Vernon is aware of this — pinning your arms above your head, fingers rubbing reassuringly along the band of your bracelet.

"That wasn't an answer."

"That wasn't a question?" you bite back, thrilled when he squints to shield the way his gaze darkens.

"When I tell you to speak, you do."

The gasp of surprise that rises in your chest comes out as a moan. Despite his uncertainty, the commanding tone makes your head spin joyously. Heat rushes through your entire body and releases in a hot mess between your legs, soaking your panties.

You're sure Vernon will very quickly and gleefully find out once he finishes sucking little love bites in a trail down your stomach. His warm breath lingers at your waistline, pausing until you raise your head to look at him questioningly.

"My pretty baby hasn't listened yet. Guess I'll hang out here for a bit. Thought we were done for the night anyways."

Your jaw drops as he continues to just press kisses on your tummy. "What the hell, Vern?"

"Don't you think you should behave to get what you want?"

"Don't you want to find out how wet I am for you?"

He shudders and you think you've won but he's uncharacteristically stubborn tonight, refusing to yield. "Only… only good… whores are rewarded."

You moan breathlessly. Shamelessly. Your boyfriend has barely touched you tonight besides some casual foreplay beforehand. Yet you feel zero embarrassment at how much your body aches in want for him. "I'll be a good whore for you so… please, please touch me!"

Vernon lets out a curse, hastily taking off your panties. He groans in delirium staying focused solely on your leaking pussy that's begging for him. Looking you in the eyes, he gulps to steady his resolve despite how easily distracted he is by the desperate flutter of your eyelashes.

"You really want me, baby? Think this little cunt can take me?" A choked laugh escapes his throat. "So goddamn wet for me already just like the lovely darling you are."

Your reply is cut off by a harsh sound in his throat before he spits right at your pussy. Hips bucking up at the feeling of warm liquid sliding down into your hole and only continuing to jerk upwards as he stares, not even blinking. Like a cat. Licking his lips agonizingly slow at the way you clench pitifully around nothing, his saliva mixing with your arousal.

"But not wet enough."

That's a fucking lie. You both know it. And you both don't care.

You can't help but leak more and more, threatening to leave a puddling mess all over the mattress. But he won't let that happen. You think you might burst into flames when your boyfriend's lidded eyes drag across your writhing body to meet yours, a heated fire swirling in chocolate irises as he spits into his palm without losing your gaze.

You've seen him do it before. Normally when he's about to wrap his hand around his thick cock during a mutual masturbation session when he can't use your wetness to coat him instead.

But now, he catches your dripping mess right before it falls. Smearing it with an accompaniment of saliva all over to coat your pussy lips. Fingers brush across your slit to fiddle with your clit, before spreading a shiny trail on your pelvis.

"So pretty… " Vernon mumbles, marveling at the debauched visage of your desperation.

Your fingers pinch at your nipples, thighs trembling because his hand lays so close to your clit. Able to feel heat radiating from him paired with the cool metal of his bracelet, the slight pressure above your pubic bone causes you to whine in frustration.

"Do something, Nonnie. Anything. Please."

Begging snaps him out of his trance, back to the present moment and the end goal he has in mind. Fingers slide down tantalizingly slow to tease at your entrance — gathering up more of your arousal — before easing just as painstakingly slow inside.

Groaning at the same time you do, additional filthy and wet noises fill the room when he sets a harsh pace to drive his fingers into your pussy. Months of practice allow him to quickly find the spot to stroke that has your toes curling, body writhing with the need to grab onto something. Vernon's eyes dart to how you grab at the bedsheets in an unforgiving hold.

Nervous you might somehow tear them (definitely not the first time), he reluctantly removes his hand from your warmth. Mildly amused at the way you release your death grip only to pound a fist against the mattress, the jingle of your charm sounding sweet despite your apparent vexation.

He ignores your laser beam glare, entranced by the clear strands that stretch as he spreads his fingers. Smirking with his tongue running along his upper teeth, he turns back to you and waves the digits tauntingly.

"Open."

You obey without hesitation, granting him access to stick his fingers into your mouth. Your tongue swirls around them, more intent on reminding your boyfriend of the way you sucked him off earlier than how you taste.

It doesn't matter if that pleases him or not. Because soon he's pulling his fingers away, not leaving you empty for long. Stripping down, he's back hovering over you before you can whine. Holding his cock with one hand, he taps it teasingly against your cunt only to lose reason and throw his head back at the incredibly loud, wet slapping noises. Quickly returning his focus to not miss the droplets that spray out to coat both of your thighs as he does it.

"Want me to fuck this tight little hole?"

"Mhm, of course."

"Whose pretty pussy is this?"

"Belongs to you, baby."

He spits again so it lands right where the head of his cock spreads apart your pussy lips upon its entrance. You might've told him to save his saliva to spit in your mouth but you're too blissed out by the whole insane situation.

"Arms around me, love." Vernon's freed hand lands to cage you between his arms as he slides in with more ease than expected, filling you up completely that it knocks the wind out of both of your lungs. "So fucking wet for me, ah."

Your inner walls pulse and contract around his cock as usual, yet it's a different feeling than normal. Rather than tightening so hard around him that he can barely breathe, it's more of a slick suction that makes his head spin. His cock is quite literally drowning in your pussy. If he thought the sounds of fingering you were filthy, the amplification of wet slaps as his hips snap furiously is somehow even impossibly filthier.

"'m not gonna last long." Your boyfriend would probably feel pathetic for the lack of stamina but the scratches along his shoulder blades inform him that you're just as far gone. "Gonna fill you up, nice and full just like you like it, baby."

As your mouth opens in a reciprocating moan, Vernon finally does what you desire. He spits, proud of his perfect aim into your mouth. You swallow without being told, eyes rolling back in delight and carving crescent moon shapes into his skin. That's all it takes for you to cum, shaking as you cling to him.

"More," you pant out, "do it again. Please!"

If he could speak, he would tell you how absolutely gorgeous you are. Instead, he does as asked, in awe of how readily you take every piece of him. You already have his heart, his soul, and his love. He's given his release after you've begged him to fuck you raw — and well, now you've taken his spit.

Gee, how romantic.

Vernon's pace hastens, intent to give you all of his cum before overstimulation sets in. Your legs wrap around him, reading his mind — or more like your body instinctively craves to be filled. He chants your name like a mantra before giving in and spilling inside, shuddering as his hips have no choice but to press tightly against you with the aid of your rather cute koala grasp.

"Fuck, you're so hot."

He buries his head inside the crook of your neck, laying his whole body weight on yours and refusing to budge. You hum, letting your head clear as your hands run up and down across the marks you left on his back.

"Told you I wouldn't break."

"Hm, do you still love me?"

You let out a huff of air, feeling his lips curl up. "Adore you, you idiot. My love is as strong as my trust in you."

"What would I do without you?"

"Said you would die."

"I would," Vernon affirms with conviction, "what would I do without anyone's mouth to spit into."

You feel absolutely no remorse delivering a light slap on his ass. "And now maybe you won't."

"Hey! You promised!"

His jolt upwards causes you both to grunt, a reminder that he's buried inside of you still. Testingly, you clench gently around him and he groans in protest.

"So, you'll do it from now on?"

He shrugs. "If that's what you want. You know I'll do anything for you."

Of course. That's another thing you love so much about him so much.

"Perfect, now spit in my mouth again, baby."

You take the opportunity when he cocks his head to the side to tug him down, fingers playing with the hairs on the nape of his neck. He melts against you when your lips press against one another, readily opening his mouth when your tongue prods for entrance, now understanding what you mean.

After a long, lazy makeout session causes you to part for air, you brush your nose against his. "I don't know what you were so concerned about when we swap spit all the time."

Your name falls out of his mouth in a flustered stutter before you shut him up again with another smooch. As you giggle against his mouth, Vernon presses harder into the kiss — whether out of embarrassment or revenge — you aren't sure but you relish it. Enjoying the intimate moment with the love of your life.

onlyseokmins: January 2023 ©

Taglist: @joshibambi @pandorashbox @rubyscoups @woozluv @darlingvernon @charcharfairy @httpswonwoosglasses @yeosayang @buffhoshi @horanghae8star @noraehey @misssugarlips @onlymingyus @tinkerbell460 @aceofvernons @dejavernon

#ez.creates #svt smut #seventeen smut #kpop smut #vernon smut #vernon hansol chwe smut #svthub #june 🌞#ez.mootz #svt.smut

965 notes · View notes

askstrangeweird · 2 months ago

Text

Made this Cult of The Lamb GIF gift (lol) for my friend @galaxydragos-artstation! Happy belated birthday Drago!!! Thanks for all the years of friendship and always creating wonderful characters and art! I know my art journey wouldn't have been the same without you, and at the very least Strange wouldn't have had the love of his life you created in Cakes! X3 keep just being you!

32 notes · View notes

bloodredfountainpen · 6 months ago

Text

The Gift

Masterlist

My very first official whump piece, I hope it’s not absolute trash lol.

Contains/CW: bbu adjacent, pet whump, institutionalized slavery, caretaker new master, referenced past abuse, mention of noncon body modification, brief mention of whipping and resulting scars, brief nudity (non-sexual), nonhuman whumpee (kinda), self hatred of one’s body, brainwashed whumpee, morally dubious caretaker, accidental bad caretaker (Anthony has no tact), fear of torture/punishment, self dehumanization, self deprecation (both verbal and in thought), begging for mercy (granted)

Ella, if you’re actually reading this, please for the love of God don’t skim over the CWs, they’re really important! Also, and I know you already know this about me, but none of this is a sex thing no matter how bad it looks. I am a sadist, but not that kind of sadist.

I know that’s a lot, but I promise it’s not as bad as its sounds 😭, but lmk if I missed anything.

Premise: Anthony, a young man living alone who is generally ambivalent to the practice of keeping Pets, is suddenly gifted a dog boy that he doesn’t quite know what to do with.

(Pet capital P = a person who has signed away their personhood to ModiPets Inc and is now legally an animal, usually physically modified to take on animal characteristics, hence the ‘modi’ part. pet lowercase p = the standard definition of the word.)

————————————————————————————

Anthony liked living alone. That simple fact frustrated his mother to no end, which, he suspected, was the reason that there were two MP employees at his door asking him to sign for a Pet. Now, Anthony never really knew what to think of the whole Pet thing. Sure, they had their memories wiped and were dumber now, and sure they had consented beforehand, he just still couldn’t see himself ever owning one. Besides that, he didn’t know what he would do with a whole other person in his house. He had the space for it, sure, but as an introvert by nature, the thought exhausted him just thinking about it. Still, he knew that refusing to sign and sending the package back to wherever it came from would earn his mother’s ire and probably prompt a visit, which he wanted to avoid at all cost. And so, he signed. He hoped he would not come to regret it.

The employees helped him drag the box into his living room, and before they took their leave, they handed him a copy of the proof of delivery form. The form specified that the Pet was a hybrid Guard Dog/Platonic type with Level 2 Canine Modification and one previous owner. He hoped whatever was wrong with them to make their previous owner send them back had been fixed. He hoped that the ‘Platonic’ bit meant that the thing wasn’t feral. He hoped that the Pet hadn’t been modified to be too canine, since Anthony rather hated dogs. So many hopes for the Pet; Anthony felt kinda bad for expecting so much when he hadn’t even met them yet.

Also in this form, under the ‘other instructions/messages’ section, there was a note:

Happy belated birthday sweetie! I know this is a bit extravagant, especially along with the rest of your presents, but it was on sale and I couldn’t resist! You know how I worry about your safety, living on your own in the big city. This good little guard doggie aught to keep you safe and keep you company in that lonely apartment of yours.

Just like he thought; his mother’s meddling had once again inconvenienced him. Anthony scrunched the form out of frustration, before gingerly smoothing it out and sticking it in his kitchen junk drawer, reasoning that he might need it later.

Cautiously, he approached the box, and began to open it.

———————————————————————

Light streamed into G-22985’s box. This was it, he thought, this was the moment of truth. He had spent his entire time retraining waiting for the day when he would finally have a new Master to protect, a second chance, and now that was coming true. He couldn’t wait to have nice grass or dirt to sleep on, to be fed again after days in transit. He really hoped that he would be good enough to earn all that. After all, he didn’t deserve anything that he hadn’t earned. More so, he couldn’t wait to defend Master from any and all harm. If I guard Master well, he thought, then Master might keep me around this time.

He knew better than to look at Master’s face, and so he kept his gaze fixed on a point on the wall of the box, even as Master looked him over, scanning his body. Assessing his worth, he assumed. He wanted Master to think well of him, and that was a scary feeling. He knew he wasn’t supposed to want, that’s the reason Master Liam had sent him away, but this was different, because it was for Master’s sake and not his own selfishness.

After what was really only half a second, but seemed like hours to G-22985, Master turned away and exclaimed, “Oh god, you’re naked! Sorry, I didn’t mean to stare, I’ll go grab some clothes. Wait right there,” and with that, Master left. Having received his first order, G-22985 excitedly stayed put in the box, or at least he hoped dearly that that’s what Master had told him to do. He thought he might have heard Master wrong, because he seemed to have apologized to G-22985, and people don’t apologize to Pets. Even so, he stayed where Master had (probably) told him to. If he was wrong, he would be punished, and then he would know.

G-22985’s heart broke that his body was so revolting to Master. Pets don’t wear clothes, so if Master wanted him to, there must have been something really disgusting about him to be covered up. He had the sickening feeling that the whipping scars Master Liam had given him hadn’t faded as much as he thought. He often wished that those scars would disappear altogether, though he knew they never would. He wished he could forget everything about Master Liam, really, every curse ever shouted at him, every bit of pain caused to him. More than that, he wished to be good for New Master, wished so badly it hurt. This body belongs to Master, he reminded himself, whatever Master wants to do to me, he has that absolute right.

———————————————————————

Anthony’s heart was beating out of his chest as he rummaged through his closet looking for something the might fit the Pet. From the split second looked he’d got at him, Anthony estimated that the Pet was maybe a few inches taller than him, but significantly skinnier and yet somehow more muscular. With that in mind, he selected a soft hoodie and pair of sweatpants, his cheecks turning red with guilt at having looked at another man nude without his permission, and also embarrassment that he’d found the Pet attractive. Did that technically make Anthony a zoophile? He didn’t think so.

He hurried back to the Pet, tossing the clothes into the box while turned away, and nearly shouted, “Put these on! It’s ok, I’m not looking.”

He heard the sound of cloth shuffling, which quelled after around a minute. “Are you done? You can come out of the box if you’re done,” Anthony said, throwing the sound over his shoulder. He heard the Pet stumble out of the box, and turned to face him, only to find the Pet kneeling with his head to the ground. Anthony sighed.

“Would you mind standing up? I want to get a look at you,” he asked, trying his best not to let his frustration show. He would rather be doing literally anything else right now, but that wasn’t the pup’s fault. The Pet seemed to tremble for a moment, before scrambling to his feet. Anthony looked him up and down, finding he was correct in his estimation of the Pet’s height. The Pet’s pitch black hair had been buzzed short, and of course, a thin white collar had been fastened around his neck. Sitting atop his head were a pair of fluffy dog ears, those of a German Shepherd, if he were to speculate on breed, and the outline of a tail stuffed down one leg of the pants was visible. The sides of the Pet’s head, where his human ears would normally be, was smoothed over and covered by hair. How intriguing.

It bothered Anthony that the Pet still kept his head bowed, so after taking a moment to gather his courage, he took the Pet by his chin and tilted his head foreword, but the Pet flinched and his eyes remained squeezed shut. Anthony quietly commanded him, “Look me in the eyes.”

———————————————————————

G-22985 flinched as Master grabbed his chin. He knew he wasn’t supposed to react negatively to Master’s touch, so he braced for a strike to correct his error, but no such strike came. He mentally scolded himself, since the Handlers weren’t around to do it: Bad Pet! You’re a worthless excuse for a Pet! You’d better hope Master doesn’t send you back for being so useless! You’re nothing but a defective disappointment!

As much as G-22985 hated to think of himself that way, he knew that he had to remind himself somehow. He always had a hard time remembering his place, thinking he was a person, sometimes even trying to escape. I tried to escape from Master Liam, and look where that got me. Refurbished and resold, like an object. He didn’t know why the thought of being an object made him so mad; that’s what he was, after all. He knew he probably needed more retraining, because even after the Trainers had taught him how to be good again, he had only been at this new place for a little while already been bad! What a disgrace of a Pet he was.

He shut his eyes tight as Master tilted G-22985’s chin upwards, he didn’t want to accidentally look at Master’s face.

“Look me in the eyes,” Master ordered him, but that was bad! He was never to look Master in the face, never mind the eyes! But, Master had commanded, and he had to obey Master’s commands.

Making up his dumb Pet mind, he reluctantly obeyed and looked into Master’s eyes. Instead of the coldness, anger, or blow to the face that he was expecting, he saw an analysis that he recognized. Master was studying him, which was good as far as G-22985 was concerned, it meant that Master hadn’t made up his mind yet. It meant that maybe he still had a chance to be good.

———————————————————————

God, the Pet was even hotter up close. Anthony felt extremely wrong for thinking that, but it was true. The Pet’s deep brown eyes captivated him, so full of fear. He made note of a scar on the Pet’s lips, a small vertical line which started above the top lip and finished below the bottom lip. Considering everything that Pets went through for their training, it was a miracle that that was the only defect. He suddenly didn’t think he could bring himself to treat the Pet like, well, a pet. Which raised the question: what in the world was he going to do with him? He certainly couldn’t send him back, both for fear of his mother, and for fear for the Pet’s safety.

Anthony broke eye contact and removed his hand from the Pet’s chin, causing the Pet to fall back to his prostrated position. Anthony chuckled under his breath at the Pet’s ridiculous display, causing the Pet to flinch, and Anthony to recognize his mistake immediately. “I’m gonna order Pizza for dinner. You can eat Pizza, right?” he asked, making an effort to be gentle.

“Whatever pleases you, Master,” the Pet said automatically. This unnerved Anthony, but he didn’t have the energy to address it right then. Whatever conditioning the Pet was under, Anthony wasn’t even sure it was his place to undo it. The Pet had signed up for it, so clearly he wanted to be like that. Though he supposed that the Pet belonged to him now, so he could do whatever he wanted with him.

That thought sent a pang through Anthony’s chest as he looked down to the Pet, kneeling loyally on the floor before him, not daring to raise his head.

“Listen, you can sit on the couch until the Pizza gets here, ok?” he told the Pet, not really expecting an answer, but surprisingly, the Pet’s trembling voice quietly rose from below. It was a pitiful sound, like a scared dog during a thunderstorm.

Anthony didn’t know what to do, he wanted to comfort the Pet, but how? How in the world does one comfort a person they a) just met, and b) literally own? He supposed that, if the Pet had been trained to act like an animal, maybe petting him would work. And so, as much as he was dying of embarrassment to do so, Anthony crouched down and caressed the Pet across his head, finding his hair (fur?) quite soft and pleasant to the touch.

———————————————————————

G-22985 couldn’t take it anymore. Yet again, Master had ordered him to behave as a person rather than a Pet, and yet again, memories of his time in training flashed through his mind. Memories of electricity coursing through his neck, memories of his Handlers’ voices in his newly sensitive ears. He remembered a lesson he had, one of the first he had ever been taught, that he was never to sit on furniture because furniture is for people, and he was just a lowly Pet. He remembered being beaten within an inch of his worthless life when he had forgotten this rule while serving Master Liam, he could have sworn he could still feel the blows land even months later. He just couldn’t bring himself to break that rule again. But still, Master had ordered him, and he couldn’t disobey. Master Liam had given him double binds like this too, and he hadn’t known what to do then. Now he knew though, he also knew he was being a coward, not able to take a beating like a good Pet should. He just couldn’t bring its body to move, knowing what was coming. He was being so bad! Bad, bad, bad, bad…

G-22985 didn’t realize he had been whimpering until Master crouched down and touched his hair, petting him right between his ears. He was glad, he finally had the opportunity to be good. He leaned into the touch, careful not to deviate from his position while still demonstrating the required level of appreciation for Master’s affection.

He felt good to be touched kindly after his intense refurbishing. He dared to think that maybe he would be ok here, if Master was touching him like that. This meant that Master wanted a pet and not just a guard dog, that maybe Master would give him more of these kind touches, if he was good. There was a reason he was part Platonic, right? But Master was being so confusing, one minute ordering him to cover himself because he couldn’t stand the sight of his repulsive body, the next touching him so gently. Master had given him a trick order, but then when he had been bad, as he was doomed to be, Master had touched him like only a good Pet deserves to be touched.

The horrifying realization struck G-22985 as Master continued to pet him; it hadn’t been a trick order, it had been a test, which he had failed. He had failed by putting on the clothes, he had failed by standing up, and only when he remembered his place and stayed on the ground had Master rewarded him with affection. He had been so caught up in being good and obeying Master, that he had forgotten how to be a proper Pet. He knew that Master knew this too, and he knew he was in for the punishment of a lifetime. Still, Master was touching him so kindly, so maybe if he begged, he had a chance of lessening the inevitable hell.

———————————————————————

Suddenly, the Pet stopped his shaking and completely froze. His whimpering turned to sobs, “I know ah-I’ve b-been bad-d, I have f-failed Master’s tests-ts and n-know I deserve p-punishment. I w-will be a good P-Pet, I pr-promise! I will d-do anything to m-make Master happy, I will f-f-follow-w any order g-given, I will n-never be bad, only good! I will k-keep Master ab-absolutely s-s-safe and ha-happy, I swear. I beg of you to-to h-have mercy on-n this-s pathetic cr-creature!”

Anthony was perplexed. He wondered what in the world he’d done to make the Pet think he was in trouble. Had it been the petting? He wished his mother had warned him before sending him the Pet, at least then he could have read the damn online manual. But no, now he had a crying Pet kneeling at his feet, begging for mercy over some perceived infraction. Anthony sighed, and the Pet flinched and went silent. Anthony couldn’t help it, he sighed again, and predictably, the Pet flinched. He would have to get that habit in check.

“Pet, what do you think you did wrong?” Anthony asked, hoping to get a better idea of what was going on in his head.

The Pet’s voice was quiet and strained, but still he answered, “I p-p-put on clothes, Master, which-ch is bad. I st-stood up on my h-hind paws, Master, w-which is bad. I fl-flinched at your t-t-touch, Master, which i-is bad. I know what I did-d w-was bad an-and I d-d-deserve to be p-punished, yet I b-beg your m-mercy, Master.”

Oh, Anthony realized, this is my fault.

He whispered softly to the Pet, trying his best not to be frustrated, and just now getting the inkling that he might have been in over his head, “Hey hey, it’s alright. You’re not in trouble, I’m not going to punish you. You don’t have to sit on the couch if you don’t want to, I just thought it might be more comfortable than the floor. Just, please stop crying, ok?”

The sobbing abruptly halted, and Anthony resisted the urge to sigh again, as he knew he’d been anything but comforting. Also, his plan of ‘Pizza at the table and talk about what the fuck we’re going to do’ would have to be adjusted, seeing the Pet’s reaction to being invited to sit on the couch. Anthony had the sinking feeling that mealtime would be an even bigger hassle. He had no idea what he could possibly do to get the Pet to, if not trust him, then at least give him the time of day without expecting retribution. He decided to give the Pet some space while he thought things over.

“I’m just going to sit over there and order the pizza, you don’t have to go on the couch, but you don’t have to stay kneeling like that either. Just… sit how you’re comfortable,” Anthony instructed as he slowly got up from the floor.

“I remember my pl-place, Master, a lowly P-Pet like m-me knows not-t to sully the f-f-furniture, I’ll b-be good,” he declared in more of a plea than a statement, his voice barely above a whisper and still clearly choked up from crying.

Anthony shrugged and moved to a nearby armchair. He made a point of not looking at the Pet, even though he really wanted to, but even so, the Pet didn’t dare move a muscle from his position. Well, if the pet didn’t want to move, Anthony wasn’t going to force him. He ordered the pizza, and then went to the MP website and brought up the online Owner’s Manual. What he found was, in one word, sickening.

Anthony didn’t live under a rock; he knew that Pets didn’t have it easy, but this was nothing but gratuitous cruelty. The ethos of the manual seemed to be all stick and no carrot, to put it nicely. The manual specifically advised to punish behaviors which were person like, such as sitting on furniture, which really put the past half hour into perspective. That poor pup. There is no way in hell I’m doing any of that, thought Anthony as he read further and further, but the question remained, what am I going to do then?

#whump #pet whump #bbu adjacent #caretaker new master #noncon body modification #morally dubious caretaker #whump writing

46 notes · View notes

kneelingshadowsalome · 1 year ago

Note

hiii it my birthday !(21 slay🍾)… was wondering what would konig do for and get engel!! and also do to engel of course…:3

Aw happy belated birthday dear anon!! 🥳💕💐

CW: tooth rotting fluff

So, König brings his Engel lots of flowers of course! They’re the first thing she sees on the table when she wakes up. There’s another bouquet waiting for her in the kitchen along with her breakfast, but, uh, unfortunately König is not very creative when it comes to gifts... He prefers to take his sweetheart on a vacation around the time of her birthday, but he does get her a beautiful, big bathtub one year. Thinks it’s a great idea, that baths might help her relax (completely ignores the real reason why he buys the biggest tub there is; ignores his secret wish to accompany her there everytime Engel wants to bathe)

They come straight back home after her birthday dinner – König also takes her out to eat because our man can't cook for the life of him, he can make scrambled eggs and knows how to boil water but that’s about it – and Engel has to wait for almost half an hour as König prepares her gift... But when she's finally guided to the bathroom and König tells her to open her eyes, there's the cutest scene waiting for her: there's candles everywhere, a hot bath drawn for her (and him lol), he has even sprinkled flowers there in the bath 🌸

There’s far too much water for two people however, and they make a mess as they climb in. Some of the candles go out as the water spills all over the floor, but they both quickly decide it's even more romantic when there's less lighting. König pulls Engel against his chest and tells her he will never let her go, that she's the best thing that's ever happened to him (yes he thinks it's a necessity that he makes his birthday girl cry from joy) And of course his hands wander a bit...!

He's never been this soft with her, proceeding to whisper more sweet things in her ear as he gives her the first peak with his fingers only, holding her close with one arm tightly wrapped around her middle. Perhaps it's the warmth of the water or the magic of those flowers, perhaps it's just the sight and feel of his angel right there where she's supposed to be – secure and safe in his arms – but König has never been so incredibly gentle 🩷

#answered #könig fluff #so much fluff

73 notes · View notes

clowningaroundmars · 3 months ago

Text

Happy bday Miles!!!

it was miles' bday yesterday! i was hard at work pumping this thing out but alas it was already past my bedtime when i finally finished it u_u

this is... very last minute and i'm p sure you can tell but i hope yall enjoy anyhow LOL

for my (belated) gift to the mileses i present: miles and miles g celebrating their birthday together! and g getting a gift better than anything anyone could wrap up for him :) <3

Miles G was nervous. Very nervous.

It was already August third, a date he never really ever paid much attention to before today, but here it was.

The day.

His birthday. His 16th birthday, to be exact. And not just his birthday, but the birthday that other dimensional variants of himself shared as well.

Namely, one Miles Morales from Earth-1610 came to mind, especially now as he held his wrapped package in one hand and shuffled nervously from one foot to another.

The suffocating darkness of Earth-42’s late evening was falling and falling quickly, which would otherwise ignite something in him on a normal day. But, as he fiddled with his dimensional watch strapped to his right wrist, he knew this wasn’t any normal evening out.

After the events of… the utter and total chaos of his inter-dimensional doppelganger crashing into their universe out of nowhere once many months ago, life was never the same for him or his family.

As a result of the inter-dimensional shenanigans that ensued, his mother Rio finally found out about his secret identity and his illicit vigilante dealings on the nights he usually got away with his uncle Aaron, and that was… well.

It was a Time, alright.

Eventually, after boxing both his and his uncle’s ears and giving them a stern lecture, Rio slowly warmed up to the idea of her son going out and doing what he needed to do in order to assist with NYC’s battle against the fascist oppression that the Sinister Six were insisting upon the city. With help, of course.

Rio’s one condition was that Miles G’s new spider-themed friends would come and help and make sure her son was still on the straight and narrow, that he wasn’t going to get too hurt.

She figured that if Miles G wasn’t going to back down from being a hero in his own right, then he might as well have someone by his side helping him achieve his goals… and helping out at the hospital and F.E.A.S.T. as well every now and then, of course!

Now, she was waiting right by the door to the rooftop, holding it open with a hip and looking on at her son approvingly. It was August of course, but that night on Earth-42 happened to be a bit chillier than normal. Her hair frizzed with the humidity that hung thick in the air and she wrapped her hands around her arms as she smiled.

Miles glances up and notices the rolling darkness overhead moving in a bit too quickly. Must be a storm brewing again, then. It sure smelled like it, anyways.

“Good luck, mijo! Tell them I said happy birthday to the other you!” Rio calls, just as something suspiciously thunder-like starts growling on the other end of the city. “Y no te preocupes tanto, Miles! Tu pareces tan nervioso! Relax a little, it’ll be a fun time, right?”

Miles G offers her a crooked smile. It didn’t really feel genuine at all, just a mask he plasters onto his face to hopefully placate his mother, which seems to work. Rio beams at him and then the winds start picking up.

“Okay, goodnight Miles! Te amo!” Her voice is almost drowned out by the sudden chilly gust that blows through and whips her hair in different directions. She gives her son one final wave before turning and letting the door shut behind her.

Miles breathes in the ozone that materializes in the air, trying to ground himself in the sudden temperature drop before a streak of lightning bursts through the clouds and flashes out of the corner of his eye. Feeling his anxiety bubbling through his nerves and into his chest, he hastily starts the search for his “twin’s” dimension.

The idea of going to a party and celebrating his birthday for the first time in years, alongside his doppelganger and his family in a dimension that isn’t his-- but probably should have been-- made his stomach roil a bit.

But thunderstorms? Those were a whole different level of hell no.

The quickly-developing storm gave Miles G just that last bit of courage he needed to take the leap, metaphorically speaking.

The portal he opens once he finds Earth-1610 almost instantaneously blinks into existence right before him. Well, also literally speaking, too, he muses sardonically as well, peering into the bright neon hues of his own custom-made portal.

He didn’t really know whether he liked Hobie Brown from Earth-138 yet, but he sure as hell was never going to get used to the fact that that kid straight up just reverse-engineered technology from the future, on his own. That alone put Hobie high up on the ranks of respect in Miles’ own mind.

Well. No more time to waste. Another burst of electricity streaked through the night sky, illuminating the angry dark rain clouds advancing on the city like jaguars ready to pounce. The anxiety threatened to burst forth from Miles’ chest just like the booming thunder that clapped in the air just then, and he took that as his cue to move.

He hated jumping through these portals, but hated storms even more. With one breath held tightly into his lungs, he stepped forward…

… And landed on some cardboard boxes.

Goddamnit.

Not a bad place to land, though, given his watch was still a prototype Hobie had cooked up last-minute to enable non-superpowered beings to travel through space and time without getting their nuclei scrambled like omelets.

All in all, not the worst position he’s found himself in, either. Not like that one time with those guard dogs… shudder. Anyways.

Miles G slowly stood up, head on a swivel as he immediately takes in his surroundings, hoping no one saw the giant burst of purple and blue lights that his portal emitted. Behind him, the aforementioned portal quickly fizzled out and blinked out of existence.

He seemed to land in an empty, but very smelly alleyway next to some restaurant on Earth-1610, if the wafting smell of greasy food hitting his nostrils was anything to go by. Dozens of styrofoam containers and wet-looking garbage bags sat piled up next to an overflowing dumpster, and a rat or two started to make their break for it once Miles lifted his legs out of the pile he landed in to connect sneaker soles to concrete.

He dusts himself off, groaning something about needing to find that twiggy punk and throttle him for not getting him his own stabilized watch sooner, when the back door of said restaurant suddenly swung open and a mean-looking, heavyset man with a hell of a beer gut started scowling at him.

“Aye! Whaddya doin’ back here, dumpster diving? Punk kid! Get outta here!”

Miles G’s own upper lip curled with full teenage disdain. “I’m not dumpster diving, genius. I’m takin’ a shortcut through here. That alright with you? It ain’t illegal,”

“Takin a shortcut?” The man’s eyes bulge out with rage. “Lyin’ punk! Get on outta here!” He hurls more curse words at Miles and shakes his fist like a cartoon character yelling at someone to get off their lawn.

Miles simply rolls his eyes, stoops over to fetch his gift from the giant pile of discarded cardboard boxes and brushes it off as well. He tosses a sarcastic salute at the man as he makes his way down the alleyway.

“Stay classy, my man,” he grumbles and steps out into the blinding rays of the late August evening on Earth-1610.

It was lucky he was found by this man on this dimension rather than back home, because otherwise his encounter would have been possibly twice as deadly than a grumpy old restaurant cook simply shaking a fist at him.

It was one of the many things about this mirror-dimension that he needed to get used to, at first. The adults back on 42 were twice as aggressive and authoritative as the ones from here, and it was something very relieving to find out once he first stepped into this world.

Here-- even though things didn’t quite sit right in his cells about being in a world so similar to his, but yet slightly skewed-- he could really relax. He could let his shoulders down a bit, loosen his muscles, not hold his head up so high. He could truly live.

So now, even though he was most definitely going to be late to this party at his twin’s house (if his directional instinct was anything close to accurate), he was relatively chill.

Miles G strolled through the city streets of what looked to be Queens, though whether he was in the east side or the northern side was really up in the air. He turned on his heels towards a subway station and made a beeline for the underground oasis in the desert only to find that the subway map on Earth-1610 was completely flipped from the ones in his dimension.

Damnit. Damn it all. Well, then. Looks like he was gonna be even more late to the party.

He sent his dimensional twin a quick update text and began the long and frustrating process of taking pictures of maps, attempting to turnstile-hop as often as he could, and asking New Yorkers for directions.

Asking for directions and train info from New Yorkers here seemed to have the exact same success rate as it did back home; that is to say, little to none. Great. Miles stopped asking New Yorkers for directions after a while.

It killed him that he couldn’t just go as the crow flies with his gear, on account of needing to keep a low profile in order to not land 1610’s Miles in any hot water.

He missed his bungee and parkour gear something fierce after getting turned around yet again, hands picking at the stupid present’s gift wrapping impatiently after hopping onto the correct train this time. You’d think that a kid living and getting by all on his own in the city would make him a better navigator of public transportation, but alas. Even a 16 year old kid living his entire life in the bowels of the concrete jungle gets inbound and outbound trains confused sometimes. Go figure.

It seemed like it took forever and a half to finally find himself setting foot on the familiar streets of the Williamsburg area in Brooklyn, but the brownstones and corner streets eventually started shaping themselves into something much more familiar to him, much to his relief.

Cool. So this was Miles G’s domain, finally.

Even if all of the details were slightly off, even if some stores weren’t quite named correctly enough not to tickle a weird part in his brain as he walked past them, this was home. He knew it, and he felt his own “spidey senses” go off once he made his way closer and closer to his-- and Miles’-- apartment block.

G did a double take as he walked past the usual stream of faceless pedestrians and spotted a familiar puff of dark hair in the crowd. It was Miles!

Miles G may not have had that strange precognitive superpower that all of the other spider-people seemed to have, but it looked as though his body's cells had minds of their own as they gravitated towards his dimensional doppelganger bounding up to him with a joyful gait.

Miles was clad in his usual bright sporty colors, grinning as brightly as the sunset that cast everything in a nice warm hue all around them.

They dapped each other up as a casual greeting, immediately starting up their banter.

“You’re finally here, man, goddamn! Gettin’ old now, getting turned around more nowadays?” Miles ribbed his twin playfully.

“Ha, ha,” Miles G replied sarcastically, “You and me are the same age, remember? Anything you say about me--”

“You say about yourself. I know that one, smartass. I was the one who came up with that first, you can’t quote me back at me!”

“Arrest me, then,” G stuck out his chin defiantly and laughed when he got a strong jab to the side.

They quibbled like this all the way down the streets, two teenage boys just basking in the last golden rays of the sunset before it finally darkened to a nice purple haze on their shared birthday. A beautiful cloudless evening, the complete and total opposite of the raging storms most likely tearing their way through Earth-42's Brooklyn night.

G was enjoying himself so much that he forgot how nervous he was before this moment.

Navigating the streets of New York City alone with not much help from his own cellphone or the people around him distracted him long enough to put his worries off to the side for a while, and now that he’s reaching the steps to his own apartment building, it seems like all those worries are bubbling back up again.

His purple sneakers freeze right on the bottom steps of the Brooklyn brownstone he always called home, watching as his doppelganger reaches for the door handle and only stopping once he notices G fall silent behind him.

They pause together, and Miles tosses an all-too-casual glance over his shoulder up towards the stairs before letting the door shut behind him again.

They sit together on the stairs, side-by-side.

Miles G is taking a couple of deep breaths, using the box breathing method Miles taught him a while ago.

Miles asks him, “you sure you wanna do this, bro?”

“Yes,” Miles G answers, a little too quickly.

Glances are exchanged, a million words shared with just one look. G sighs then.

“Okay… maybe… I mean, I do. I really do, wanna… uh,” Miles G takes another deep breath before sitting back and fiddling with the ribbon on the present once more. “… I wanna celebrate this, like not just for you. For me, because it’s… this is gonna be the first time I ever had a party since… well. Anyways, yeah, so I wanna do this. I do! This is important and I have to do this.”

“But?” Miles adds, a bit hesitant. He’d never want to make his dimensional variant feel like he’s being pushed or pressured, especially when he looks like he’s teetering on the edge of a panic attack.

“But,” G emphasizes the T, “I… fuck, this is gonna sound kinda lame but, ugh. I hate sayin’ it out loud. But…!”

“Jeff, right?” Miles offers him his most comforting expression. G hates it anyhow.

G hangs his head, clasping his hands over the box. “Yeah,” he admits, full of shame. “It’s dumb and I should be over it by now--”

“Bro, stop. Look,” Miles sighs in a way that reminds G of Rio a little too much, making his heart clench. “Your dad passed away, man. That is tough. That's the literal definition of trauma, and there’s nothing anyone can say about that. But you shouldn’t beat yourself up over not having like a linear progression on healing or whatever. You’re never really gonna get over it, like ever. And that’s okay, man. Losing a family member like that’s hard. Real hard.”

Aaron, G thinks to himself then, nodding slowly. Miles is probably the only person who understood the visceral and soul-crushing feeling of watching a beloved family member die at such a young age; and a father figure as well, at that.

Sure, all the other spider-people lost their uncle Bens or Tonys or whatever they said their uncles’ names were. But Miles lost Aaron. Aaron Davis. A man that was held in such high regard by the both of them, a key player in the way they both grew up and formed their own personalities as kids. There was nobody like him, and that was a fact.

It felt simultaneously weird and also comforting to know exactly what Miles was thinking, feeling, because in a lot of small but significant ways, their pain mirrored each other’s. Miles knew. G knew.

There wasn’t anything else left to say.

Well…

“I gotta go up,” Miles G said quietly after a small bout of silence.

Miles shrugged non-committaly. “Only if you’re ready,” he replied.

“No,” G shook his head, his neatly-done braids wiggling alongside the movement. “I have got to man up and stop bein’ so pussy right now. He’s not my dad. He isn’t my dad and I can do this!”

Miles blew out a breath and leaned back on the stairs behind him, legs spread as he crosses his arms. “Dude, look at me. Dad’s not gonna be weird this time, okay? We talked to him and he’s cool about everything and he is not gonna be weird. Everyone understands if you need some time to yourself, like in my room or up on the roof, just in case. This isn’t mandatory, you know. You don't have to push yourself.”

“I know this isn’t mandatory but I don’t wanna ruin your special day, alright? I’ve gone years with no birthdays, I’ll be fine. I’ll live,” Miles G bit out. It was much harsher than he intended it to come out, so he tried to save the conversation. “I uhm… sorry. I mean… it’s no biggie to me if I have to skip out or whatever. If it’s too weird, y’know? If you guys don’t want me here... I just don’t wanna, like, step all over your guys’… lives. The way you all do things. I know it’s different.” G gives a half-hearted shrug, hoping his twin will catch on to what he’s trying to convey.

Miles leans forward then, clapping a hand on G’s shoulder and shaking him a bit. “Man, you worry too much. Just like me,” he laughs, “I can’t believe I’m like this! Goddamn,” he shakes his head.

G groans. “Am I, though? Am I worrying too much? Ain’t this whole situation just… weird?”

Miles waves his hands around as he speaks. “Yeah, but… teen heroes in spandex costumes shooting webs out of their wrists is weird, too. I promise you’re not ruining anyone’s day by existing. My parents love you, dude, you’re fine. Either way, no one’s gonna think bad of you if you wanna stay or go.”

G sighs deeply, steeling himself. “Then I’ll stay. We’ll do… the birthday things. It’ll be fine,”

“If you insist!” Miles shrugs again and moves to stand up.

G snorts derisively and puffs himself up to his twin’s height once they’re both on their feet. “I hate when you do that shit, man!”

“Do what?” Miles holds his palms aloft, grinning crookedly.

“Don’t play dumb, Morales. Just…” G wedges the box he was holding in between the ornate railings of the stairs and pops back up, annoyed. “Look at me. I look fine, right? I’m not dressed down too much?” He holds his arms akimbo.

Miles laughs again, giving his twin a well-meaning once-over.

“Hair good, kicks good?” Miles G presses, sending Miles a look all the while.

“Yes, yeah, dude. You look fine. Everything’s gonna be fine! Stop freakin’ out!”

“You’re pulling your stupid nonchalant cool guy shtick and I hate it. You know that makes me even more nervous, right? It does not help, not even a little,”

Miles cackles as he pulls the door open once more, motioning for G to hand him the wrapped present. “You are unbelievable, man. Completamente insoportable!”

They bicker once again all the way up three flights of stairs, as naturally as if they had done it for years until they reach Miles’ family apartment and push their way through the doorframe.

They don’t even get to set one Jordan into the living room before Earth-1610’s Rio is leaping out from right around the corner and shouting SURPRISE!!! right into their faces.

Behind her, Jeff wears a party hat and blows on a dinky little party horn.

Both Mileses stood frozen staring into the face of their excited mother before Miles opens his mouth to speak.

“Mamí, I already told you this wasn’t a surprise party!”

“No, pero yo quería, como… hacer un algito para el niño, sabes?" Rio answers innocently, cheesy grin plastered on her face as she reaches for a balloon floating nearby and hands it to G.

“Anyways,” Miles gives his twin a sidelong glance and holds his present aloft, picking his way past the balloons on the floor to deposit it next to a pile of boxes and bags. "Sorry about them, they're... y'know. They mean well, but--"

"Of course we do! What's with this attitude all of a sudden?" Jeff complains, taking off his comically small party hat and setting it aside.

“Last night, we had my party with the fam on the rooftop, and today it’s just us here. We’re gonna watch a movie and eat together if you don’t mind,” Miles begins again, by way of explaining the massive pile of gifts in the living room corner. “I figured your first party in a while should be more... lowkey. Just a totally casual and definitely not weird birthday celebration, right guys?” He shoots looks at both of his parents, who both nod.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah! Totally casual. We cool, we cool,” Jeff assures his son, punching at his shoulder playfully. “When have we ever not been cool? About, y’know… this whole inter-dimensional universe stuff?”

“Dad!” Miles groans.

G smiles a bit, shoving his hands in his pockets and hiking his shoulders up to his ears. “Yeah this sounds cool, actually. Real good, better than…”

“Than what you thought it’d be?” Miles grins, “you really think I’d just throw you into a massive block party with the whole family out of nowhere?”

“No, but,” G kicks off his sneakers as their parents go into the kitchen and start laying pots and bowls out onto the dining room table. “I dunno… I thought it’d be more than just us. But this is nice, yeah. I don’t mind this at all.”

“As I knew you wouldn’t!” Then, a little louder, “what’d I say, dad?”

“I still got some of the crew on speed dial with gifts if you want!” Jeff calls out from the kitchen.

G laughs aloud and shakes his head, finally relaxing for the first time in what seemed like forever.

Together, the four set up dinner on the table to laugh and eat, celebrating two birthdays with two versions of the same Miles. They toast to another happy birthday, tacking on a little “here’s hoping G survives until the next one” for good measure.

Miles elbowed his father for that, but G was more than grateful that he had some more people in his corner, even if they were from different dimensions. Knowing that he had another set of parents praying for his health and his safety in a world that seemed so far away and distant as to be from a completely different galaxy made his heart clench in a way he didn’t know how to articulate yet.

He raised his own glass and prayed for their health and safety as well.

Then they settled into the living room together to watch a goofy horror-comedy movie that Jeff insisted on picking out himself.

“So Miles let me know the other day that he doesn't really actually like horror movies much, which was-- y’know definitely not feeling betrayed or anything ‘cause of that, but.” He shot his son a look.

“Oh my god, this again,” Miles groans, rolling his eyes and smiling exasperatedly.

“Anyways, dunno what your horror tolerance is, is all. Don’t know if you love it or hate it, but my wife hates horror and I love it. I figure this one’s a good middle ground.”

G sat forward, clasping his hands together in front of him. “You hate horror movies?” He asks his twin.

Miles throws his hands up in the air. “Do not tell me you’re gonna say that you’re shocked ‘cause you love it,”

G bobs his head and laughs. “I’m gonna say that I’m shocked ‘cause I absolutely love horror. Huh! That’s… that’s kinda funny we’re different like that,” he hummed in thought.

Miles sighs. “Oh right, of course. My twin who is absolutely better than me at everything ever happens to love the same stuff my dad does. Man, y’know what, I’m wavin’ the white flag. You can have him if you want!”

“Huh?” Jeff looks back and forth between his two sons as they laugh.

"Pero así tampoco!" Rio laughs along with them. “No one is stealing anyone’s father tonight, boys. Come on now,”

“I’m saying!” Miles offers anyways.

“I’m good,” G replies good-naturedly.

“Hold on, you two are not saying what I think you’re saying,” Jeff finally catches up to speed.

The whole room laughs at that, joy and comfort palpable in the air as the family settles down after bantering some more. They pass the bowls of popcorn and watch their movie, commenting on terrible acting and cackling at bad jokes.

G settles down, really relaxing this time, as he sinks deeper into the comfortable couch cushions and basks in the normalcy of this life. He was grateful the family didn’t make him feel like he was a guest, or an intruder into their seemingly perfect lives of familial affection. This was a million times better than awkward happy birthday songs and loud music,. It was much more… intimate. Intimate in ways that G himself hadn’t been allowed to feel since his own father’s passing.

He was grateful that his own dimensional variant understood what it was that he could handle, and what he couldn’t, completely judgement-free. It left a warm feeling deep in his chest he hadn’t ever known he was even capable of feeling. Maybe that was Miles’ real gift to G, the perfect environment for anyone to be able to let their walls down, even just a little.

It made the homemade sketchbook as his gift to his twin seem so silly in comparison, in the end. Oh well.

The night ended wonderfully, with each parent getting G his own gifts on top of the one Miles dumped unceremoniously in his lap towards the end of his visit.

But it was getting late, and the night was getting progressively darker.

The nighttime wasn’t nearly as suffocating and all-encompassing as Earth-42’s nights, especially considering it was a clear and crisp night on 1610, the total opposite of the angry weather back home… but the hour was getting longer nonetheless and G’s tranquil visit to this dimension was drawing to a close.

“I wish you could sleep over this time, y’know. Kind of a bummer that you can’t”, Miles bumped shoulders with G as they sat side-by-side on the couch.

“Mmmn, yeah” G sighed.

“Hold on, what am I missing here? I thought he was going to stay tonight!” Rio pipes up from her end of the couch, brow raised.

G looks up at her. “Uhh, no. I have, uh, I have a thing… in the morning, with uncle Aaron. So,”

Jeff grunts disapprovingly, earning him a glare from Miles.

Miles then turns back to his twin. “It’s fine, we get it. Let’s try to make some more time in the future to hang soon, though, right? This was fun!”

They both smile at each other and then start to get up, gathering discarded wrapping paper from Miles opening his gift from G.

G himself tries tucking his unopened presents into his light sweater, zipping it up and holding the boxes against him with crossed arms.

“If I don’t hold ‘em like this, they’ll go flying everywhere in the portal back home,” he explains to Miles’ parents.

Miles shoves his hands in his pockets and agrees that that's a great idea before suggesting they not open a portal in the middle of the living room where all of his birthday balloons and gifts were still in neat piles.

G finally bids everyone a good night before climbing up the final set of stairs up to the rooftop, with Miles right on his heels.

They dap each other up again and Miles eventually pulls G into a hug.

“Man, what you doin’ that soft shit for?” G ribs Miles playfully, punching him lightly on the shoulder.

“I dunno, you look like you could use some soft shit after tonight. You looked like you didn’t even wanna leave my apartment,”

G rolls his eyes but concedes anyways. “Uh huh, yeah… shit was nice there, for a second… things were real nice.” He trails off, then gathers himself back up again. “Your dad was great back there, by the way. So… looks like your talk with him was good, it was effective.” He sniffed.

Miles purses his lips. “Hmmm, was he, though? He coulda been a little better, honestly.”

G shakes his head, laughing. “You need to stop being so hard on your parents, kid. They’re great. They are.”

“Yeah, I know. Your fam’s great, too, by the way. Let Aaron know that I really love his gift he left me the other day, when you get back,”

G does a double take. “That he-- that he left you? How? He’s got a watch now?”

“I think…? I think he stole yours, honestly, bro. Or… I dunno, knowing him, he might’ve already reverse engineered his own by now,” Miles offers a wincing shrug, chuckling a bit at the shocked expression on his own face standing a little ways away from him.

“Wh--! Goddamn. Well.” G sniffed again and fixed the hoodie of his sweater casually, adjusting the gifts inside. “Well, damn. Thanks for letting me know about that, I guess.”

Miles throws G a salute and steps back, right by the rooftop door and then G's suddenly reminded of his own mother most likely already asleep back home.

He loves 1610, sure, but in that very moment, his heart ached for his own-- definitely not perfect but-- comforting home.

He opens his portal behind him, purple neon rings and hazy blue light emitting from it, an occasional green static flickering in and out, and the smell of wet pavement and rain hits them both almost instantaneously. Potted plants, chairs and crates sat nearby start floating in the air.

Miles whistles low. “It’s raining back where you’re at, man. I’m jealous. You get to fall asleep to rain!”

G only shrugs, not wanting to let his twin know anything about his fear of storms. That was a topic that would have to brought up later. “You have a good night, too, man. You can look up rain sounds on Youtube if you need to,”

Miles huffs out a laugh. “You got jokes! Nice!”

“Always, genius. I always do. Take it easy, man.”

G steps backwards, his last sight of 1610 being his twin standing by the half-open door to the roof, warm hallway light illuminating him from behind, small pinpricks of little sparkles in the deep blue night sky high above them…

And lands right onto his own bed.

G gasps, not possibly believing his own luck this time!

He scrambles around in the dark as quietly as he can, reaching for his lamp by his drafting table and flicking it on. His eyes bounce around the room, taking in every single little familiar detail of his posters, hats lined above the window frame, record player on top of stacked crates in the corner…

It’s home. Thank goodness. No need to traverse the dangerous roads at night past the state-mandated curfew.

Tonight was really shaping up to be an amazing night. What a relief…

Miles G laid back after eventually finishing his night routine and making sure his mother was asleep in her room, hopefully breathing. He had his arms behind his head and a big smile on his face as he thought back to the presents he received from the 1610 Morales family, now stacked neatly on his drafting table to be opened in the morning.

He thought back to the fond gazes he received at the dinner table as they had all chatted over pastelitos and refried beans. He thought back to the warm glow that the city took on during the sunset, how his train rides over to Brooklyn were always much less stress-inducing than the rides on Earth-42 were, no matter how late G was getting to be. He was unbelievably grateful that he got to experience it at all, and that it wasn’t all a fever dream his half-baked brain cooked up on little to no sleep.

No matter what his presents from the Morales family turned out to be, he was already grateful for the best gift that Earth-1610 could ever give him: peace.

#spiderverse #mine #miles g morales #miles morales #rio morales #aaron davis #jefferson morales #you can probably DEFINITELY tell that i wrote this in a hurry #but oh well. i hope the comforting vibes came thru and that i gave miles g some Inner Peace this year LOL #everyone was congratulating miles which yeah ofc valid #but what abt my poor widdle miles g thoooo 😭 where's his bday cake!#so here it is: a happy bday from me to miles but esp poor miles g :')#he deserves A Break damnit #hope yall enjoyed this lil quick slice of life story for spiderman day lol #also sorry abt not translating the spanish... uhh... yall know how to use google translate i hope LMFAO #when rio1610 says 'yo quería hacer un algito para el niño' the word algito means 'little something'#in case translate doesnt pick that up btw #the whole sentence means 'i just wanted to do a lil something for this boy yanno?' lol #but other than that the other sentences should translate fine #i tried not to use too much slang in general

9 notes · View notes