#like your body will never be good enough. why on earth should you try to hold yourself to those ridiculous standards when you're infinitely | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

cinnamorollcrybaby · 3 months ago

Note

CAN WE HAVE SOME SMUT FROM YEWWWW PLEASEUHHH WHENEVER YOU HAVE THE TIME AND MOTIVATION AND IDEAS PLEASEUH I'M DYING

Provoked

Tags: obsessed!Toji x fem!Reader, yandere elements if you squint, smut, unprotected sex, breeding kink, daddy kink, somnophilia at the end, nsfw, mdni,

Synopsis: Making Toji jealous probably wasn’t the smartest idea. Now, was it?

An: Following in suit with my theme of jealousy this week lol. You didn’t really give me any other guidelines other than smut soooo I took some creative liberties 😅

“Yeeaahh.. not makin’ doe eyes at him now, are ya?” Toji taunted as his large hand gripped ahold of your chin, forcing your languid gaze to focus on him.

The room was filled with pornographic sounds of Toji’s cock effortlessly sliding in and out of your wet heat. Your voice is high-pitched and whiny — a telltale sign that he’s already made you cum a few times.

“T-toji.. I can’t… ah~ please, I’m sorry.” You’re barely able to form your own thoughts as he mercilessly pounds himself into your weeping cunt.

You should’ve been wiser than to make Toji jealous on purpose, and you should’ve never even thought about making him jealous with his own handler, Shiu Kong.

Toji’s anger had been building all day long. He was barely holding himself together when your hand brushed against Shiu’s shoulder. You looked up at his handler with bedroom eyes that should only be reserved for him.

Toji’s hand slides down, and he grips the sides of your throat adding a bit of pressure as he continues his harsh thrusts. The entire bed was creaking and moving from the furiousness he was fucking you with.

“Nah… not good enough.” Toji laughs, and he leans in closer to your face. He’s always been a man who prefers bending you over to fuck you from behind, but today, he needs to see those pretty tears in your eyes. He needs to see you looking at him like he was the only man on this earth. Hence why he has you in a full mating press.

"I should kill him for looking at you like he did. Gouge his eyes out for looking at my woman. My. Woman."

“Fuck.. fuck.. ah~” You’re a complete babbling mess underneath him. “Too much, T-toji… mmph~ it’s too much!!”

“You always say that, and you always end up taking more anyways.” Toji casually laughs. He loves bringing you to the brink of breaking just to nurse you back to health afterwards. You need him — not a man like Shiu. Shiu wouldn't take care of you like this. He couldn't cherish and fuck your cunt like Toji could.

“So just shut up.. and take this dick like a good girl, yeah?” His hand wraps tightly around your hip, forcing you back into the mattress while his hips start to snap forward harder, nearly knocking the breath out of you with each thrust.

"Oh fuck-! Tojii~.. mmmph.." You can't hold back your noises. His dick feels like it's trying to touch you womb with how he has your body folded like a pretzel.

"Maybe I should breed this cute cunt, huh? Make your tummy all... ngh... nice and round with my baby. No man will be able to look at ya without... mmf-... knowin' I've been deep in your guts." Toji knows you're getting overstimulated as fat tears slips down your cheeks. His tongue darts out, and he savors the taste of your complete submission to him.

"G-gonna cum..." You whimper quietly. Your hands are fisting and pulling at the bedsheets, trying to cope with the immense pressure building up from his cock bumping into all the right places.

"Cum on my cock, baby. Cum on daddy's fat cock. I've got you." He coos so lovingly as if he isn't rudely shoving his full length in and out of you. Your sopping wet folds accept him in each and every time.

Toji feels his head start to spin as he feels your gummy walls squeeze around him so deliciously. "Gonna give you my baby.. you want that?"

"P-please Toji!" Your back arches up off the bed, and you hold your breath until your orgasm finally crashes over you.

"Aw, did you just cum again? Must really want me to breed ya." Toji's thrusts start to become sloppier, and his brain is so fixated on the idea of cumming inside you. He can't even think straight. He needs to see your tummy bulging with his cum.

"Gonna make you a pretty mommy. Ngh~" His cock twitches violently inside you as cum erupts from his tip, filling you up to the brim. His breath is shaky as he looks down at your poor exhausted expression.

"You alright there, mama?" He asks tenderly, as he slowly allows for your legs to slide off his shoulders.

"Mhmm.. just tired." You murmur back to him, barely able to keep your eyelids open.

"Get some rest, ma. I'm just gonna give you a bit more of my cum... to make sure it takes, yeah?" He presses a wet kiss to your temple, and in your drowsy state, you can already feel him start to slowly pump himself in and out of you. He's careful not to wake you. After all, you're going to need all your energy to carry his baby <3

#jjk fanfic #jjk #jujutsu kaisen #fanfic #drabble #jjk suggestive #jjk smut #jjk toji #toji zenin #jujutsu kaisen toji #toji fushiguro #toji x reader #toji smut #toji x you #jujutsu toji #fushiguro toji #jjk men

617 notes · View notes

urhoneycombwitch · 1 year ago

Note

eddie x latebloomer, virgin reader (so not self-projecting...) who isn't innocent or typically what people say is "virginal" (because virginity is a construct!) but still gets super nervous about heavy petting/sex because they've never done it before and don't want to be bad or weird and literally just flees at the confrontation

until that ovulation hits and r! is trying so hard to ignore it, squirming on Eddie's couch/bed and he's like 🤨 you ok? and then it just comes out in a whole word vomit that he's super hot and they're absolutely soaked but don't know what to do and it probably won't be good and they should just go home and eddies like... no big deal, I'll just eat you out, no penetration 🤷🏻

and when they do actually have sex later, I know Eddie talks R through it

ty for suggesting this anon! u got me inspired here's a lil blurb. also dedicated to @wdsara48 who asked for more inexperienced!reader content 🫡

cw: +18 mdni, Eddie’s a bit clueless about the hormone cycle, oral (r receiving), cumming in pants (guess who), ovulation horny (™)

____________

On second thought, it was probably a really bad call to visit your boyfriend when you were this horny.

Which sounds silly, you know it does- who wouldn't want to visit their hot boyfriend at a time like this?- but you've really been enjoying taking it slow this time around. Eddie is the first boy you've dated who has totally and completely earned your trust when it comes to sex- he's never once pressured you to take your heated make-out sessions any further, pulling back and unwinding himself from you with spit-slick lips every so often to gauge your comfort level.

Is this okay? How are you feeling? Wanna take a break?

So kind. So considerate. So far away, in the kitchen, humming to himself while he fixes dinner, hair loose and curling around the shoulders of his tight Metallica tee. Every time he reaches over to stir the pot of chili on the stove, the lean muscles in his upper back and biceps curl and flex.

Hormones are flushing hot through your body, the couch you’re seated on feeling more and more confining by the second; you cross your legs at the ankle in an attempt to stave off the fidgeting, but when this causes the thick denim of your zippered jeans to press into the ache between your legs you are quick to uncross them again.

There’s a low-toned buzz that’s taken up residence in your hearing, like all the raging horniness has no place else to go- which is why you don’t hear Eddie the first time he speaks.

He’s standing at the edge of the living room now, hands on hips, one dark brow raised in your direction- “Earth to angel. You with me?”

“Huh?” You swallow harshly against the dryness in your throat (contrasted with the excess wetness in other places) and shake your head, slipping your hands underneath your thighs to sit on them and ground yourself a bit. “Sorry, I was zoning out. What’d you say?”

“I said you seem antsy tonight,” Eddie repeats, moving in to sit next to you, close enough for your knees to touch. “Had too much coffee or somethin’? Y’know, you really shouldn’t drink that stuff after noon. Not good for ya.”

He’s teasing, all smooth movements with an easy grin as he snakes an arm around your shoulders.

The smoke-sweet smell of his cologne floods your senses- musky and heady and this underlayer of something earthy, wild, that you could swear hits on a primal nerve by the way it makes your clit throb.

When you stiffen under Eddie’s arm, he reads your signal as one of discomfort, tsking at himself underneath his breath before starting to pull away. “Sorry, sweetheart, didn’t mean to make you-”

“No!” Your hand darts out to grab at his over your shoulder, keeping him from leaving, because if the warmth of his body pressed to your side stops you might actually die. “No, it’s not you. I promise. It’s me. I’m…”

Eddie watches you with mild concern as you flounder, mouth opening and shutting a few times before settling on just the truth- “I’m ovulating.”

He blinks. “Um. Shit. Do you need to go to the doctor? ‘Cuz the main office is definitely closed this time ‘a night but the ER is for sure open-”

You bend at the waist, pitching forward with a groan and cutting him off. With hot cheeks buried in your hands, your voice comes out muffled- “Didn’t you take sex ed, like, three times?”

“Sure did. Learned basic anatomy real well.” His palm has slid to your lower back, your shirt ridden up to expose a stripe of skin that his warm hand now rests on. “Help me out, princess. What’s goin’ on?”

With a pounding heart, you manage to sit up, looking down at your hands in your lap as you whisper, “Ovulation makes me, like, super horny.”

At first, you think he didn’t hear you, but after a beat of silence there’s a subtle shift in his posture, spine straightening.

“Oh.” Eddie’s hand on you doesn’t move but his other one smoothes down the line of his jean-clad thigh, clearing his throat before asking, “And do you wanna… do something about that?”

Mustering courage, you swivel slightly to look at him- the joking tone from earlier has drained out of his voice, and this is the shyest you’ve ever seen him: staring unseeing at his own lap, plucking at the knee of his jeans.

“Like what?” You ask, matching the same low tone he’s just used.

When Eddie looks back at you, that’s when you realize your mistake- his lack of eye contact wasn’t due to shyness. The way he’s looking at you now, dark chocolate eyes holding a steady gaze, it’s a wonder he’s been so restrained this whole time.

“Could eat you out. Only if you wanted, though.”

You shiver. Visibly.

A slow, half-tilted smile pulls at Eddie’s lips; he brings your free hand to his face and kisses your knuckles, then tugs you up with him to stand.

“C’mon. Let’s go to the bedroom.”

Cast in soft lamplight, Eddie closes the door to his room before cupping your face in his hands, cool rings against your cheeks. He kisses you gently, at first, plush lips notching in steady rhythm against yours; when you tug him in closer by his waist and slip your tongue between his teeth, he groans into your mouth.

He pulls away, wet click of your separating mouths loud in the quiet of the room before giving your hip a light tap. “Up on the bed, angel.”

You’re quick to comply, crawling backwards on the duvet, lust unfurling in your stomach as you rest half-propped on your elbows.

Eddie divests himself of his shirt in one fluid motion without taking his eyes from you. His pale skin gleams in the low light, silver chain and guitar pick necklace swinging as he moves to hover over you.

“You okay?” He asks, dark hair a curtain around both your faces as his bare torso presses against your clothed one.

When you nod, he ducks to kiss you again before sliding a hand up your shirt. “Good. ‘Cuz I don’t think I could stop even if I wanted to.”

You know he’s mostly joking- you and him have a safeword, and he’s always attentive to your body signals- but the pure desire that he’s kissing and touching you with is indicative of a boy who’s waited too long to be able to have you like this.

Eddie laps at your mouth, tongue twining with yours as his hand squeezes and molds the fat of your breast through your bra as both your nipples stiffen in response. When his knee slots between your thighs, you moan, hips jolting up to chase the friction.

“Can I…” you’re panting, forehead crushed to Eddie’s as you search for the words. “I want your mouth, on me- please.”

You’re rarely ever so communicative, usually hidden away behind a wall of reservations that are totally melted away now. Eddie makes a noise like he’s been punched, sucks at a spot behind your ear that causes your hips to rock forward again, then says, “Yeah, sweetheart, yeah. You can have my mouth. Fuck.”

While he kisses down the slope of your neck, between your clothed breasts, your bare stomach where your shirt’s been rucked up, he’s muttering (to himself, to you, hard to say): “‘Course you can have my mouth. Have it wherever you want it. Christ. Should’a asked for it sooner. Give you anything you want.”

Eddie pops the button on your jeans and you lift your hips so he can pull them completely off your body; when he sees the wet patch of arousal darkening your baby blue underwear he chokes out another curse before working the fabric down your hips and tossing them to the ground.

“Gonna let me taste you, baby?” he asks, stretching his lower half out on the mattress and pulling your legs over his shoulders, his mouth inches from your soaked core. Eddie looks up at you, face bracketed by your thighs, pupils blown out with desire, waiting for your go-ahead.

“Please,” you murmur, stretching out a hand to pet at the crown of his head.

His eyes flutter shut for a moment with your touch; when he presses a kiss to the top of your cunt, your hand tightens in his hair, his resulting hum of encouragement vibrating against your clit.

Eddie flattens his tongue and licks a wide stripe up your folds, spreading the wetness from your leaking hole up to mouth sloppily at your clit; when he sucks the bundle of nerves into his mouth, your elbow supporting your half-propped frame gives out and you pitch back against the covers.

“There- ah- shit, there, Eddie…” you sound wrecked already, voice husked with the strain of holding back whines. Normally, you’d be so in your head about the exposing condition you’re in, but at this point you’re too wound up to care, Eddie’s tongue against the beating heart of you coaxing that tightness in your stomach closer and closer to snapping.

His nails bite in where his hands span the width of your thighs, holding you against his mouth even as your legs tremble and hips twist jerkily with each sweep of his tongue; Eddie gives one last suck to your clit then follows the line of your cunt down, down with his tongue to prod at your sodden entrance.

When his tongue slides into you with a wet squelch, obscenely loud in the otherwise quiet room, you both moan in tandem- your hand in his hair tightens to near-brutal, and the bed underneath you both tremors with the jolt of Eddie’s hips rutting into the mattress.

He sets a steady pace with his tongue, fucking it in and out of you as his nose nudges against your clit. That coil in your stomach is starting to make all your muscles tense up, your thighs locking Eddie in place (who seems to only be spurred on with each constriction of your body).

“Gonna come?” The lower half of his face is coated in your slick as he takes a brief pause to kiss at your inner thigh, one hand coming to rest on your tummy, pinning you down. “C’mon, baby. Let me see it.”

Your body obeys, tension snapping as his mouth returns to your cunt, a high whine of “Eddie Eddie Eddie” that you don’t bother to hide this time loosening from your throat as everything around you bursts and crashes into orgasm.

Toes curling against Eddie’s lower back, cunt spasming around his tongue, Eddie fucks you through it and then some, his own hips mindlessly grinding down as your release triggers his own, spilling warm into his boxers while your high spirals out.

When the spams of your pleasure turn over into aftershocks, Eddie comes up for air, pressing one last kiss to your overstimulated cunt before crawling up your body to lie on top with his head in the crook of your neck.

“Fuck,” you say aloud to the ceiling, breathless, arms automatically encircling the boy. “Holy shit.”

“I’ll say.” Eddie’s breath cools over the sticky patch he kissed into your skin, his mouth still wet with your release. He gathers enough energy to plant his elbows on either side of your head, looking down at you, suddenly serious. “So um… how often do you get ovi- ovel… like this? Once a year or somethin’?”

The laugh shakes out of your chest before you can stop it; you reach up to tuck Eddie’s curls behind his ears, your previous bashfulness having been tongue-fucked out of you.

“Eddie Munson, do I have news for you.”

#lu’s anons #e.m. thots from lu #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson smut #eddie x inexperienced!reader #eddie munson x you

2K notes · View notes

daryltwdixon · 4 months ago

Text

Kinktober #3 Playing House

that’s it, that’s the title

Warning: smuuuuuuuuuuuuuutty wheewwy! 🥵🌶️

You and Daryl are out scavenging on a run, going through a row of houses to find canned goods to stock up for winter before the cold front hits. No one knows what winter will bring-will walkers be more docile?

Surely the cold has to slow them down like it does for people, right? But no one is sure.

When Daryl offers to make the run, you're surprised when he calls your name to join him. It's not that you're afraid-you go on runs all the time. Just... not usually with Daryl. He's intimidating and aloof, and usually you head out with Glenn and sometimes Rick. You're quick, good at getting in and out, even it there are a couple of walkers around. You can get what's needed and leave.

So when Daryl asks you to join him today, you only hesitate because you ve never been alone with the man before. But you agree, feeling like you kind of miss the adrenaline of not knowing how the day will go since you all moved to the prison. You're happy life feels safe-of course, you are-but at heart, you might be called an adrenaline junkie.

You walk a few paces behind Daryl in the woods behind the row of houses, your eyes drawn to the way his muscles move beneath his shirt as he navigates the path ahead. Every time he pauses to check the trail, you take the opportunity to watch him longer than you should. His broad shoulders, the way his fingers expertly grip his crossbow… if only it were warmer and he wasn’t wearing that damn long-sleeve, you could see the gorgeous valleys of his arms. You catch yourself staring once or twice when he turns suddenly, his eyes meeting yours. Your breath hitches, and you look away quickly, a blush rushing to your cheeks. You swear one time you catch the ghost of a smirk on his lips.

It only gets worse when you stumble on a root sticking high out of the ground, feeling the earth rushing toward your face. Daryl’s strong grip catches you before you hit the dirt, pulling you up effortlessly. He holds you there longer than necessary, his eyes scanning your face as he brings you back to stand.

“Thought you were supposed to be good at bein’ quiet,” he murmurs. The rasp of his voice sends a tingling sensation through your skin. Why did you allow yourself to be alone with this man?

“Usually I am,” you grumble. You pull away, but the feeling of his hands lingers longer than it should.

There are a few more times where you know you stare too long at his arms as he holds up the crossbow, or brush up against him when you pass by to stake a lookout to the street before crossing into the suburban neighborhood.

Finally, you reach one of the houses. You quietly open the front door, wincing as it creaks so loud it might as well paint a big target on your back for any nearby walkers. You stop just as it’s wide enough to slip through, hyper-aware of Daryl’s body close behind you, his closeness throwing you off your game. You need space to breathe. You take off into the rooms, sweeping through with your knife held high as you check around. You’re at the top landing of the stairs when you feel a hand on your leg. You nearly jump out of your skin, turning quickly to see Daryl reaching through the banister, the heat of his skin searing through the fabric of your pants. For a second, you forget how to breathe.

“We ain’t got time to mess around,” he grunts up at you. “Don’t be long.” Your eyes flicker down to his hand, and he follows your gaze, quickly removing his hand as if it’s burned him.

After checking the rooms, trying to shake off the goosebumps from his touch, you make your way downstairs to the kitchen. Your nerves are still buzzing, but you realize Daryl is nowhere to be found. You trust he’s around somewhere. You reach up on your tiptoes to quietly sift through the top cabinets above the counters, your fingers coming into contact with a cool metal can. As you pull it down, you read the label—Baked Beans. You’re about to set it on the counter when you feel a hand wrap around your waist, fingers firm on your side. Your breath catches as another hand covers your mouth before you can make a sound.

The grip is firm, possessive, and for a split second, your body tenses in shock, adrenaline spiking in your bloodstream. But then you hear the familiar rasp of Daryl’s voice in your ear.

“Easy,” he growls quietly, his breath hot against your skin. “Didn’t mean to scare ya.”

Your heart races in your chest, but not from fear. The roughness of his palm against your waist sends a shiver down your spine, and though his grip softens, he doesn’t pull away.

He’s close, too close, his body pressing against yours in a way that makes your knees weak.

The smell of leather and sweat clings to him, his warmth radiating into you as his hips press you forward, pinning you against the cold surface of the counter. You suck in a breath, goosebumps rising as his voice rumbles low in your ear.

“Wanna play house?” The words are playful, teasing, but there’s an edge of something darker, something that makes your pulse quicken. His lips brush against the shell of your ear as he speaks, sending a jolt of heat straight through you. He pulls his hand from your mouth now that you’ve settled from the initial shock of his appearance.

There's a moment of heavy silence, the tension between you thick. You can feel his heartbeat through his chest, the weight of him pressing into you as if he's been waiting for this, as if the world has finally stopped long enough to give him this moment.

After a beat, his voice comes, low and gravelly. "Ain't like I just thought 'bout this today," he mutters, his lips brushing against the side of your neck. "Been thinkin' about it... for a while."

You swallow hard, your pulse racing, utter disbelief clouding your thoughts. "You have?"

His grip tightens on your waist, fingers digging in just enough to make you feel every inch of his strength. "Yeah," he admits, his voice rough but certain. "Tried to stay outta your way, but.." He pauses, his breath catching for a second. "Every time I look at ya, it's like... I can't stay away."

He shifts behind you, his mouth hovering dangerously close to your ear again, his words thick with something between need and frustration. "Ain't good at sayin' shit like this, but... you gotta know, I been wantin' this... you." His voice drops even lower, almost a growl, "Wanted ya since the first time I saw you."

You feel the truth of it in the way his hands won't let you go, the raw edge to his words, the way he's so close, yet still holding back just enough for you to make the next move.

"Daryl..." you start, your voice soft, but you don't know what else to say.

His lips brush your skin, rough, like he's fighting not to lose control. "This what you want too?" His voice cracks slightly, a vulnerability hidden behind his usual gruffness. "Cause if it ain't... you gotta tell me now. Ain't gonna stop once I start."

“I—I—“ you stutter, trying to calm your rapidly beating heart.

Suddenly he’s spinning you around, his hands coming up under your thighs. You squeak at the sudden movement, your arms flying to grip his neck as he hoists you up onto the counter, your legs around his waist. He keeps your hands firmly on your hips as he says, “been wondering what you’d feel like,” he whispers, rubbing up your thighs, “your skin,” his hands move up to your face, eyes flickering down to your mouth, bringing his thumb up to trace it, “these lips,”

"Tell me," he rasps, his thumb brushing along your jaw now, rough and slow, "you want this." His lips hover, so close, yet still not touching.

The air between you is electric, and you're frozen, caught in the space between wanting more and the shock of him finally saying it.

Finally acting on it.

"I want this." It's barely a whisper, but it's all he needs.

In an instant, his lips crash into yours, rough, urgent, and desperate. The kiss is nothing like you expected-it's not soft, not tentative.

It's raw, almost hungry, like he's been holding back for so long and now he can't stop. His hand on your jaw slides up to your hair, fingers tangling as he deepens the kiss, pulling you even closer.

His other hand grips on your waist to hold you steady, keeping you tight against him, his body solid and warm.

His kiss is demanding, lips moving over yours like he's trying to memorize every inch of you, every breath. You open your mouth for him, his tongue plunging into you, discovering your taste, your tongue, everything.

His lips leave yours for just a second, barely giving you time to breathe before he's kissing down the side of your neck, his breath hot against your skin. "Shoulda done this sooner," he mutters against your neck, his voice thick with frustration and something darker.

"Daryl..." you gasp, your fingers slipping under his shirt, feeling the rough edges of his skin, the scars, the heat radiating from him.

He groans at your touch, his hands bringing you flush against, pressing harder into you.

"I ain't stoppin' now," he growls, his mouth returning to yours, the kiss even deeper, more desperate this time. His teeth graze your lower lip, and you shudder, feeling him smile against your mouth, a rare moment of triumph as he finally lets go of the control he's always kept so tightly wound.

His hands are everywhere now-one gripping your waist, the other cradling the back of your head as if he's afraid to let go, afraid this moment will disappear if he does. He's rough, but there's a tenderness hidden beneath the urgency, a need to show you exactly how long he's wanted this, how much he's held back.

You’re pulling at his shirt, feeling the heat of his skin radiating off of him as he pulls away for a split second to remove it, his fingers expertly finding the hem of yours a moment later, ripping the fabric off of you. His kiss is ravenous as he pulls you in again, its teeth and tongues and fire as you explore the heat of his body against your bare skin, your body feeling electric under his touch. Soon his hands leave you, and for a moment you’re left feeling only the cold counter under you until you hear the clatter of a belt coming off, and pants being pushed down. He has his fingers hooked into the waste and of your pants soon after, pulling them off in a haste. The counter is freezing under your bare body and the contrast of the heat of him on you only raises more goosebumps along your skin.

His lips hungrily trace down your neck, nipping your shoulder and skin of your chest as his lips find your nipple and his tongue flattened against it, teeth grazing just right until he’s moving to the other. You lean your head back and moan quietly. His head comes up quickly, hand in your hair pulling him into you.

“As much as I want to hear you sing for me, sunshine, you’re gonna have to be quiet out here,” he growls into your lips, pulling you in for a desperate kiss before continuing his torturous teasing of your skin. You whimper at the sight of him lowering down in front of you, his blue eyes flicking up to yours as he pulls you forward, so the apex of your thighs sits at the edge of the counter.

“Beautiful,” he whispers, his breath fanning the slick heat of your center. You bring your own hand up to your mouth, biting your finger to keep quiet as he dives for you, his tongue expertly finding every crevice of you, lapping and drinking you in. He’s moaning against your wet cunt as he continues his greedy attack, and you feel the pressure of an orgasm building in your abdomen. Daryl’s eyes are on you as you whine and whimper, and he brings a finger up to tease your center. Your eyes roll back, your hand coming down from your mouth to cling to his hair. He gently pushes in a finger, quickly followed by a second, and you’re spasming under his touch when he hits the top of your g spot, making you gush around him. He hums his devotion and rapture at your pleasure.

As he pulls away from you, his fingers dive into his mouth, his tongue cleaning up every last drop of you as you grab for him. Pulling his face to you, you kiss and slide your tongue along his, the sweet tangy taste of you still on him. He’s growling into the kiss, pulling you off the counter to stand. Your knees nearly collapse at the sudden need to have to support yourself, but his hands hold you, the rough calluses sturdy against you. He spins you around, pushing you flat against the counter. The cool touch of the countertop makes your nipples harden as they press against it, your cheek laying gently down as Daryl kisses along your back.

“You have no idea what you do to me, do ya?” His voice is gravely against your skin as he kisses down your spine, his hands traveling up and down the sides of you and landing on your hips as he stands.

“Can ya feel what you do to me?” He asks you, his thick, hot cock pressed up against the center of you. You gasp at the contact, never knowing how thick he really was. You’re not sure you’ll be able to take it, and maybe he can feel the tension in your body as your hands come up to your sides, bracing yourself.

“Shhh, shh.. say the word and I’ll stop right here, right now, baby,” he says, hands gentle on your sides, thumbs rubbing circles where they lay against you. You let out a shaky breath, leaning up against him. Your hand snakes up and around his head, holding his hair while the other goes behind you to touch his side. He smiles, kissing your shoulder, bringing his hands to your front and kneading your breasts and your breath steadies.

“Just… be gentle, at first, please,” you whisper, “I don’t think I’ve had anyone— not that big,” you let out a breathy, nervous laugh.

He breaths against your neck, and you can feel the smile against the column of your throat, “I promise,”

You tentatively lay your hands back on the counter, laying yourself back down. He brings his hand to his cock then, stroking it himself before bringing it to your wet lips, readying himself for you. You hear him spit, and look behind you to see him lubing himself up with his own juices, and something about how absolutely carnal he is makes you shiver in fervent anticipation.

He holds you hip with one hand and gently guides himself into you inch by inch. You gasp at the feeling of nearly being split in half, and hear his deep, animalistic growl at the feeling of your walls constricting around him.

“Fuck,” he grunts out, barely above a whisper. He pauses as he bottoms out into you, his entire length buried so deep you swear you can feel him in your womb. After a long moment letting you adjust, you’re shaking with need. The list coursing through your body causes your mind to go blank with absolute desperation for this man, for friction, for movement.

“Daryl, please— move,” you beg, pushing yourself against him. He leans down suddenly and bites onto your shoulder.

“Say no more, darlin,” as he snaps his hips back and into you with hungry speed. You jolt forward, your body never feeling as full as it does now. He stays leaning over you as he grips your waist even harder in your hands, his hips unrelenting in their thrusts. His cock feels like it’s splitting you in half and filling you to the brim as he continues ruthlessly fucking you against the counter. You’re trying with all the caution left in you to not scream his name, only letting whimpers and small moans out, his name on repeat from your mouth.

“Drive me crazy, that’s wha’ ya do to me,” he says breathlessly between kissing your back as he moves in and out of you, “couldn’t stop thinking about you— about this. How you’d feel taking my cock, how you’d look with it buried in ya, fuck, baby,” his thrusts are becoming irregular, and he snakes one hand between your legs and your eyes widen at the overstimulation as he pulls back the hood of your clit, pressing the calloused pad of his finger perfectly on the nub, causing your legs to shake.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” you whisper into the counter, unable to stop your body from convulsing under his touch.

“C’mon, baby, cum for me, cum on my cock. Love seeing you so desperate for me, so cock drunk for me,” you barely can hear his words as your cumming again, biting your lip so hard to stop yourself from screaming and you taste the metallic hint of blood on your tongue. The feeling of your walls squeezing him like that has him toppling over the edge too, a long, carnal grunt escaping from him.

Both of you are gulping down breaths as you come down from your highs, his arms now tight around your waist. You both finally stand and you turn to face him again, your hands coming up around his neck.

“If I knew this is what you had in mind, Dixon, I would’ve gone on a run with you a long time ago,” you tease, a smile tugging at your lips. He mirrors it, his rough exterior softening for a brief moment as he pulls you into another kiss.

But then, a distant snarling fills your ears, snapping both of you back to reality. You whip your heads toward the kitchen window, eyes narrowing at the sight of walkers accumulating by the woods where you came from. The urgency crashes over you—it’s time to go, and you have to move now.

“Time to show me how quick you really are on your feet, sunshine,” he says, scooping the discarded clothes into his arms before holding yours out to you.

#daryl dixon #daryl #twd daryl #the walking dead #daryl x reader #the walking dead daryl #daryl one shot #daryl fanfiction #daryl dixion imagine #daryl twd #prison au #kinktober

423 notes · View notes

noonwardmoss · 25 days ago

Text

Late Night Snack ♡

CW: somno (m receiving), oral (m receiving), blink-and-you'll-miss-it daddy kink, service reader(?), slight powerplay

Summary: Butcher and you haven't been intimate for a while, so your thirsty ass takes matters into your own hands.

Tags: @angelically-yours @konartiste-sideblog @chocolategiverzombie @bobabilbil @frank3nfag @tsundere-queen @daydreamingdarl

Notes: this is not beta-read don't kill meee

Smut below cut

Butcher didn't exactly remember how this dynamic started. All he knew was that it'd been going on for a while. You were a young thing prancing about like he'd sculpted the Earth. He couldn't not get a taste. And after that first one, he got another. Then another, and another, to the point you two were semi-frequently having sex.

He'd told you that you could come to him any time you needed it. He hadn't expected you to take that literally.

The day went relatively normal—they'd gotten a good amount of work done and retired at a semi-reasonable time. You were a tad more fidgety than usual, but it didn't raise any concern.

It clearly should have, though.

Not much time passed between Butcher falling asleep and waking back up—his body grousing awake at the feeling of clumsy fingers trying to grip his length from underneath his boxers. A soft voice sounded a small whimper. Your voice.

His eyes popped open, and he immediately came face-to-face with the figure mouthing at his pelvis. You must've been at it for a bit because he was already half-stiff in his sleep-slurred state.

Was he still asleep? On his luckiest nights, he'd dream of you like this—desperate for him, initiating…

“Oi,” he croaked, voice thickened with rest, “fuck're ‘ya doin'?”

At his words, your eyes fluttered to him. You made a pretty sight, hunched over his crotch and straddling his knees. He could see your pupils fluctuating in the dark, trying to discern his reaction as your cheek went to rest against his bony hip.

“Needed it,” was the only reasoning you provided, tone that of a whining pup. He could tell you were tired, too—but apparently not enough to prevent you from doing whatever *this* was.

A gruff, almost amused scoff shook through Butcher's chest. You always were a pouter.

“Yeah? And this is how you decided t’ get it?” There was a lazy playfulness to his demeanor—one that only encouraged you. As you nodded, one of his large hands found its way to the back of your head, carding through your hair.

“You said anytime.” He smirked at your defense.

You'd never been the one to initiate before. But now, you were the one who came to him—needy and desperate. He had to admit, he liked the sudden boldness. It made him feel wanted. Your sex lives were in no way vanilla by now, and he'd talked about it being on the table before.

Was that why you were so twitchy today? The idea was a bit humorous, you have been on edge from being horny and wanting him. A whining pup, indeed.

His thumb found its way to your lower lip, pushing inward to feel the soft heat of your mouth. In his current hazy state, it didn't feel real.

“That I did, pet,” he hummed, tone only slightly breathless. God, you made such an image… His cock had fully hardened now to strain against the cloth of his boxers. “Just didn't expect it to actually happen.”

His finger hooked against your bottom teeth, prying your jaw open just a bit more.

“It's been too long,” you admitted. His digit in your mouth made the words slur together. “I needed to taste you, sir.”

He nearly groaned at that word—sir. It seemed to be something you uniquely called him. No one else garnered such a tone of respect and reverence from you. How he earned it—placated you—he'd forever be clueless and impressed to.

“How long was too long, princess?” His dick twitched at the sight of you being so uncharacteristically greedy. He'd usually be pissed over being woken up so late in the night, but the prospect of you itching for him all day was a bit… flattering. A toxic bubble of pride welled up in him, even though any reasonable person would've been concerned.

“It's been weeks,” you huffed, and even in his half-asleep state, that surprised him. He tried to wrack his brain for the last time you two had sex, but his focus was more on the fact you hadn't done anything about your desire until now.

“You been aching for me for weeks, pretty thing? Couldn't find anyone else to help?” He tutted mockingly. As expected, you shook your head.

“No. Only want you.” You nosed into his length again, and he stifled a groan. Despite knowing that'd be your answer, he still felt a wave of satisfaction at your insistence. His hand tightened in your hair as he tilted your head back.

“Been a proper good girl, have you? Only wantin’ your daddy to take care of you…”

You nodded the best you could in his grip, pressing an open-mouthed kiss to his cock through the cloth.

“Can I please, then?” You murmured, looking at him through your lashes as the vibrations of your voice traveled through him. He gave a low hum.

“You don't need to ask.” His answer came with a gruff tone, as though saying ‘obviously’.

He pushed the blanket completely aside and shifted so he was sitting properly against the headboard, pulling the fabric of his boxers as some sort of encouragement.

“Go on, pet,” Butcher huffed. “Take what you want.”

Your fingers eagerly found the hem of his boxers, hooking in and pulling them down. His length bobbed, hitting your cheek from the proximity, and you made a small noise.

You'd think after all the hookups you've had so far, the shock of it all would wear off and he'd just sit and enjoy it. But no. Every time he felt the gentle touch of your hands, it was like a goddamn dream. In an idle fantasy in his head, he'd often imagine you like this. Needy, almost desperate. Somehow, the reality was better than anything his mind could have fabricated.

You lapped at his tip near instantly, and he hissed through his teeth. Your eyes returned to his at the sound, mouth opening wide to tap him on your tongue. Christ, had he taught you that?

“Yeahh.” The word tumbled from Butcher's lips with a groan, fingers rooting in your hair loosely enough not to scratch your scalp. He wanted to be selfish and buck up—to take—but you were taking rare initiative. He wanted to savor the change in dynamic.

A low moan slipped from both of you when you wrapped your lips around him and swirled your tongue. While you lavished the tip with attention, your hand found the base and stroked.

A breathless puff of laughter was pulled out of Butcher, and he shifted his hips down a bit for you. A million things were going through his head, and they all involved you. All of this—this whole scene—was ripped straight from one of his more daring dreams of you.

“Just like that,” he praised, hand running through the strands of your hair. It only encouraged you to take a bit more of his length. You swallowed around him before bobbing experimentally, teeth just barely scraping the sensitive skin in the way you knew he adored.

A low groan rumbled from his chest, and his hips tilted forward. The mix of your enthusiasm and inexperience was sending waves of heat down his body.

A low ‘tsk’ escaped his lips at the grazing. “Teeth, baby, remember?”

You hummed again as an answer, the resulting vibrations making him jersey his hips. You gagged, but managed to keep yourself on him. The vixen you were, you knew how he loved the danger from the pressure of your teeth.

And well, if you wanted to play like that, he could certainly provide.

His large hands tangled tighter in your hair, pulling at a sign of encouragement. His pelvis stuttered before he pushed himself further down your throat, a breathy groan leaving him.

“You're doin’ good, sweetheart.” The praise was laced with strain, low and cracking. You moaned around his dick, picking up enthusiasm again.

If it wasn't enough for you to look so damn good, the sounds were driving him further insane. He let you control the pace momentarily, an itch to control bubbling under his skin with each moment.

“If you were in such a rush, y’ shoulda come to me sooner.” The low growl was punctuated by a push of his hips, fingers tightening in your hair to keep you in place. You drooled around him, sinking down a bit more with hazy eyes. And the two of you were too similar in this way—you both got pleasure by giving it to your partner in bed.

Your nails grazed his pelvic bone, barely digging in. There was an electricity that buzzed just under the surface of Butcher's skin, a tingling heat that began to cloud his mind. That, coupled with the fact he was still half-convinced he was asleep, created some feedback loop of fuzzy pleasure. The sharp sting of your nails had him bucking up into your warm heat, lolling his head back with a harsh groan.

You choked again, taking deep breaths through your nose to somehow willpower yourself to stay on his dick. Then, once you'd gotten your gag reflex under control, you sank all the way to the base, nose nuzzling his public hair. Your throat fluttered with the effort, dragging a breathy moan from the man under you.

“Ffuuuck yeah—yeah, good girl. Stay just like that for a bit, darlin’,” came his murmur, voice just barely more than a rough growl. The last of his breath was pushed out almost like you were taxing him, and with his praise came the soothing pet of his hand through your hair. You blinked the tears away to keep your eyes on him, face flushed in the dim lighting. You swallowed around him ever-so-often as you obeyed, staying flush to his pelvis.

And those teary eyes staring at him with so much desire nearly made him lose it.

There was a moment where he just felt overwhelmed—a rush of a million sensations he didn't know how to name rushing to his head and making it spin. A shuddering sigh spilled from his lips at them.

“Look at you.” His voice was but a ragged breath now, hand running down from the top of your head to your cheek to brush away stray tears that had fallen. “Such a pretty thing, you are, doll.”

His touch made you keen as you decided that was encouragement enough to continue. With a long drag up his length, you released a small noise from your throat. Your sounds weren't helping Butcher's current state much.

“Don't stop. Fuuck—yeah. Jus’– Just like that, sweetheart,” he rumbled with another groan. The feeling was enough to make his legs feel unsteady—and that feeling had him rolling into the wet warmth of your mouth.

He was embarrassingly close embarrassingly fast—but in his defense, it'd been a while, and he was barely awake. Not that you seemed to mind either way, though. The thrumming in your veins was nearly unbearable, the desire to please having been melting you for days. You wanted to please him tonight—which might've come at the cost of your own pleasure considering he could be too exhausted to do anything else.

His grip on your head tightened, his breathing growing increasingly shaky and his hands shaking with the effort not to just fuck your throat with wild abandon.

“Just like that, baby– Just like that… Shit, I'm gonna– F-fuck–” He was cut off with a harsh, breathless moan as you doubled your efforts. You needed to see him contort with the pleasure you knew he deserved again—almost as much as you needed air. His hips stuttered into your mouth with his thrusts, long and shallow with tire.

You pulled off, much to his displeasure, leaving your mouth open wide as your hand returned to his cock. Quick, hot breaths left you as you rested him against your tongue while you stroked him to completion.

When he came, you gave a small, sweet moan. His spend coated your tongue and lips, satisfying your taste buds in some cruel way that made your loins burn. Your hand gradually slowed as you swallowed, lapping at him lazily afterward until he was completely flaccid and hissing with overstimulation.

“I needed that,” he exhaled once you stopped, a mix of exhaustion and satisfaction. The grip in your hair released, fingers soothing over your scalp as if apologetic for how hard he'd tugged. Then, his hand returned to its place on your cheek, wiping the drool from your chin. His eyes fluttered shut as he did so—it seemed he truly was, in fact, dead tired.

“Such a good girl, huh?” His eyes flickered down to your shifting thighs, catching the way they searched for any relief. He wiped some of the mess he'd left from your bottom lip, and you sucked his thumb into your mouth. Your tongue swirled it clean before you released the digit. The action caught him off-guard, a sharp intake of breath resulting. God, he wished he had the energy, but he was already struggling to stay awake.

“You make it goddamn difficult to last, princess. Can see how wound up you are,” he huffed, amusement and disappointment toward himself laced through his tone. You pulled yourself up, tucking him back into his pants before shifting to curl up into his side. He sighed as his arm went to wrap around you. Despite the fact you'd needed him for weeks apparently, you seemed content to ignore yourself for a little longer.

“You– mmh… don't want me to take care of ya, love?” He asked, a teasing lilt to his voice. He wasn't going to complain, but he'd certainly make up for it later. For now, though, he was well and fully exhausted. And the bed was comfortable. When you pressed a soft kiss to his jaw, he hummed.

“I'll take that as a no, then. A bloody shame, but I s’pose you've tired me out.”

“Tomorrow?” Came your whisper after another moment, and his lips twitched upward.

“Whenever you want, baby.”

#my first time writing a lengthy 2nd pov... hope its alright #thinkin butcher thoughts #billy butcher x reader #billy butcher x you #william butcher x reader #billy butcher imagine #billy butcher #billy butcher smut #the boys amazon #the boys #this is my first piece in a while and its bad stop liking it

189 notes · View notes

batmanisagatewaydrug · 4 months ago

Note

I don't know anything about Batman comics but I am very curious, who is this Jean Paul Valley fellow?

(I could google it but I feel like your answer is going to be a lot more enlightening)

okay so imagine you're a grad student just trying to get your degree in computer science. your mom is dead, you've never been close to your dad. you've made the best of it. one night your dad shows up on your doorstep in weird armor, terribly injured, and he dies in your arms telling you that you have to take up his mantle now. what the fuck does that mean? what mantle? oh, okay, turns out he was a warrior for a secret religious order. okay, it turns out all the men in your family have been for generations. alrighty, this is accomplished via childhood programming that creates a secondary warrior personality that lives in your head and comes out when you need to hurt people. maybe even kill them. you don't really want to do that but it also seems like you don't have a choice. sometimes you just kill people with a sword now, I guess. but Batman's here, Batman is going to help. he promised. he takes you under his wing, says he'll teach you how to manage this. you can't stop fighting but you can fight for good, maybe. Batman will show you how. except things are going wrong in the city, and Batman is running himself ragged trying to fix it. he's busy, too busy for you. Robin is trying to help you as best he can, but Robin's just a boy. and things are getting worse, Batman is fading. but you're also getting worse, there are voices in your head. and then Batman nearly dies. he certainly won't be able to walk again, not any time soon. so you're Batman now, I guess. you have barely even know how to be yourself anymore and now you also have to be Batman, and the man who was Batman has disappeared. out of the country to solve another mystery, left the city to you. you don't know what to do. you don't know what to do and people are dying and this city is hell on earth and why? why did he let it get this bad? what the fuck was the old Batman doing? you have to be a better Batman. you have to do whatever it takes to fix this place. maybe the old Batman wasn't hitting hard enough. maybe his enemies should have been more scared of him. maybe he shouldn't have let them get away in the first place. you're so alone. Robin is gone. Batman is gone. the only advice is coming from the voices in your head. you help people, sometimes, but you also feel increasingly disconnected from them. you're not really yourself anymore, are you? you're the voices in your head, your programming. you're Batman. you barely sleep and when you do it's on the floor of a cave, in your armor. and you keep this up until the old Batman comes back. he's walking again; it's a long story. and he wants his name back. he brought the other sidekicks and all three of them hate you, and when they come for you they don't stop until you're stripped of the armor, the mantle, and the name. they kick you out of the cave. you spend months living on the streets of this awful city you couldn't fix, hallucinating and trying to figure out who you are. they leave you like this until Batman comes to find you. you still work for him. he has a job for you. he doesn't like you, isn't even sure he trusts you, but he has a job that needs doing and you're a warm body. you're grateful. what else do you have?

that's Jean Paul Valley.

#jean paul valley

250 notes · View notes

sahisan · 1 year ago

Text

★ summary: harbinger!scaramouche x harbinger!fem!reader. you reveal that your favourite body part of his are fingers.

☆ cw: nsfw. scaramouche's fingers' appreciation. established relationship (may not be seen here but anyway). reader is a harbinger. alcohol mentioned, but reader doesn't drink. fingering. overstimulation. scara uses degrading praise (use of 'whore'). soft dom scara. reader's title in the harbingers is 'brighella'. 1810 words.

☾ a/n: kay why essing myself if this flops🧍‍♀️/hj

you didn't know how you could possibly end up here.

around the table there were seated harbingers like arlecchino, columbina, signora, scaramouche, you and, of course, the bastard who initiated all of this - tartaglia. a few bottles of expensive alcohol were also placed on the round table, along with some glasses - some full, some empty.

the gingerhead even got scaramuche here. you couldn't even begin to imagine how he got the sixth here. probably, by begging or promising something stupid like not bothering him with his fights for a month.

idiot, dunce, moron-

you sigh for the nth time, straightening your warm, fur coat on your shoulders, then rubbing the bridge of your nose in an attempt not to make a face at the smell of alcohol on the table in front of them all.

a regular game with questions and drinking, except that you don't drink. and that’s why you have to answer all the questions asked, tartaglia explained. you held back the urge to leave.

"should've chosen drinking.." you think, already regretting your decisions. you couldn't possibly know what kinds of questions all of them could ask eachother. kana's guesses started off something like "what's your favourite colour" and continued up to "what's your favourite sex position". the harbingers were always so chaotic that you could really imagine someone asking that. especially tartaglia.

well, enough whining about that shithead.

your bored gaze falls upon the balladeer at the other end of the table. his hat is so big that everyone sitting next to him had to sit at least a meter away from him.

you look him up and down, your eyes lingering on the folded hands on his lap. the length of his fingers, their softness, their position-

you swallow the saliva in your mouth. this is not what you should be doing right now. at least not now.

you don't realise you're literally staring at him for a good few minutes already, until you hear someone calling you.

"...ghella. brighella!"

a familiar voice calls out your title, interrupting your glaring session, and you nearly jump out of your seat, trying to look like you were definitely not staring at scaramouche. not that he'd be against that.

in front of your unfocused eyes, they move their hand, waving. you immediately recognize this hand. its fingers, to be completely honest.

"earth to [name]!" scaramouche leans back, grinning in a slightly mocking way as soon as he sees that he managed to bring you out of this 'trance'. "you were asked a question." he simply says, when you finally manage to focus your vision.

crap. were you staring the whole time? humiliating.

"what?" you ask, having no idea of anything what happened while you were busy. clearing your throat and straightening your back you try not to appear embarrassed.

you sincerely hope you succeeded.

"i asked you a question." tartaglia’s voice is heard from the side, and she turns her head in his direction. of course it will be tartaglia, who, if not he, will never miss an opportunity to joke around.

"sorry, i didn't hear it. repeat the question." you sigh, asking calmly, propping your chin with your palm.

tartaglia grins widely. what a brat.

"i asked..." he makes a dramatic pause, looking around at everyone present - arlecchino, columbina, signora, scaramouche and, finally, his gaze stops at you. you pretend not to be in the least bit intrigued. "which part of scaramouche's body is your favorite?"

you pause, eyebrows raised up in surprise and confusion even when your face stays calm. you blink. twice. three times.

you think you might've misheard the gingerhead.

trying your best to stay calm, you cock your head, brows falling back in their place. "...what?"

"which part of scaramouche's bo-"

no, you definitely did not mishear him.

"i heard you the first time." you retort almost sharply, confusion coating your once bored features. you start to wonder what could he possibly think when asking that question in front of the other harbingers and, first of all, in front of scaramouche. "why... why this question?"

"just because." tartaglia simply replies, shrugging as if it's the most innocent question in the world.

"just because?"

"just because."

fucking bastard.

jokes aside, you didn't know if anybody from the harbingers or of all the fatui knew that you and scaramouche were together. you never told anyone and he didn't bother with telling anybody - no public kisses or words of affection when outside your private chambers - that's how it was for both of you.

nonetheless, you do give his question a thought. a big thought.

you feel the gaze of everyone present in this room on yourself, and especially - scaramouche's gaze. it's like he's burning a hole in you, yet having that usual mocking smirk present. for a second, you even wonder that he's fucking you with his eyes. just for a second.

you, quietly swallowing the suddenly viscous saliva, turn to the one mentioned, allowing yourself to look at him again.

eyes. his eyes, his endless indigo eyes, on which you'd let him drown you without saying a single word of protest. it's like looking at the infinite myriads of stars in the sky.

hair. his hair is incredibly soft, even if it is artificial. you can spend hours running his strands between your fingers without saying a word.

lips. his lips make your knees weaken and the butterflies in your stomach flutter with renewed vigor, and you're talking not only about kisses. his degrading praise has you on your knees for him anytime.

fingers.

"fingers." you blurt out without a last thought. this all is absolutely about his fingers. thin, long fingers, at which you could just glance at once and your legs would already shake in anticipation.

you notice the silence of all the present in the room. from the other side of the table, opposite from tartaglia's, arlecchino's all-knowing chuckle can be heard - she had you ranting about every little thing you'd like him to do with you, and every single thing you and scaramouche have already done together.

you're too embarrassed to turn to face scaramouche.

tartaglia can't stop himself from grinning even wider, looking at you with some kind of suspicious glint in his eyes. what is he up to now?

"what?" you confusingly frown at him, turning to face the man.

if it hadn't been for the tsaritsa, you'd crush every single bone in his body a while ago already.

tartaglia only smirks. "nothing. so, you're asking someone a question now...'

nothing is also something.

—

"yes, there you go... say that again." scaramouche cooes into your ear, leaning over you, his voice sounding like a literal honey - soft and gentle, a usual contrast to both how he acts around the fatui and the other times when you make out.

"i-i love your f-fingers, scara- i love them, i absolutely love them..." you breathe out, barely holding back a mewl that escapes your lips when his fingers start to pick up the pace yet again.

scaramouche had been fingering you for... you don't even know, mind too hazy. maybe it's been a few hours already. maybe even barely 30 minutes. you can't remember how many times you've came, creaming all over his fingers time after time, orgasm after orgasm, your white discharge dripping from his digits. the time certainly didn't matter now, as his fingers' inches filled your cunt, bedsheets soaked with your secretions.

he had your back pressed against his chest, one hand fingerfucking you and the other slowly, as if to soothe your overstimulation, stroking the skin on your stomach in comforting circles. the touch felt a contradiction in comparison to how rough he could get when you fucked before.

you writhe in his grasp as his other hand's fingers got under your clothes, starting to toy with your nipple, occasionally squeezing your breast every now and then, letting out quiet whimpers of overstimulation which get louder every time his thumb finds your sensitive clit.

"what a good little whore." scaramouche's voice is now basically a whisper-like purr next to your ear. he laughs quietly, taking out his fingers and smearing your secretions on your pink, puffy folds, occasionally rubbing your clit before sinking his digits inside your cunt again. "mmm, made such a mess all over my fingers, didn't you... i can finger you for eternity and you'll beg for more."

you felt like you were going to either fall asleep or pass out. your hips buck instinctively against his hand, eyes closing and head resting on his shoulder. you did try your best to hold your moans back with biting your lower lip, but, after some time, you just couldn't hold it in any longer.

"hey, c'mon sleepyhead, keep those pretty eyes open. i can't let you fall asleep while fucking you, can i? keep them open." he says, voice a tad bit louder just to keep you awake and in touch. you whine and murmur something about how you can't take it anymore but, nonetheless, tilt your head and open your eyes to meet his.

fuck, the way he's looking at you makes you get even wetter in a single moment, and you clench around his fingers one more time.

"there you go. now just look at me, mmhm?" scaramouche leans down to you, his lips hovering dangerously close to your lips. his voice gets much quieter now - still just a bit louder than your soft mewls - and raspier than before, with a single ounce of threat to it. his fingers keep getting faster, pace increasing with each word. you feel like you could come undone just from his voice. "keep those eyes on me while you cum on my fingers again."

"mmmn- s-scara, g-g'nna cum, gonna cum, gonna cum-" you mutter, a breath away from another orgasm.

scaramouche's fingertips curl around that sensitive spot inside you once more, and that is when you crash.

his lips quickly settle on yours and he uses the opportunity for his tongue to enter your mouth immediately just when you open it to moan loudly. he shushes you with a kiss, but still hears you groaning into his mouth, back arched upwards. quickly finding your hand, he intertwines fingers with you, feeling just how you squeeze his hand while your hips buck into his other hand, riding the aftermath of your release, your walls clenching desperately around his digits.

when the kiss is over - you're a whining, almost crying mess, with tears in the corners of your pretty eyes from all the overstimulation.

" 's too much... scara, i c-can't-" you whine out loud when his fingers enter your cunt yet again, and you cry his name out, now more quietly.

"this was the fourth time you've came just from my fingers." scaramouche whispers into your ear, cutting off your soft whimpers. "let's see if you love them so much to get that to five."

#genshin impact #scaramouche genshin impact #scaramouche x you #scaramouche x reader #scaramouche smut #genshin smut #wanderer x reader #kunikuzushi x reader #wanderer x you #kunikuzushi x you #genshin x you #genshin x reader #wanderer smut #kunikuzushi smut #scaramouche fluff #genshin fluff

2K notes · View notes

beenbaanbuun · 8 months ago

Text

cub w/ choi san

this is not proof read but it will be!!!!

——————————————————————————

having thoughts about san with bear hybrid!reader, specifically on the first day of spring….

winter had been pretty lazy for the two of you. with a hibernating bear, there wasn’t much for him to worry about other than making sure you ate enough. you could keep yourself curled up in the little den you slumbered in in the corner of his room, all warm and cosy and safe in the knowledge that san would be there to take care of you. it’s safe to say that over those chilly winter months you were pampered—more than you perhaps should have been—but san was far too soft to care. if his little cub wanted something, then he’d be damned if you didn’t get it.

it was a few days before the beginning of march that he started to notice a change in you. you were actually asking for the things you wanted instead of just making sounds and expecting him to figure it out. your sentences were short, and you almost never lifted your head from beneath your blankets to say them, but it was more than he’d had for the past while. he’d even caught you stretching your limbs between bathroom breaks once or twice which almost made him drop whatever he was carrying every time he walked into the room to see you standing up, wobbly and bleary eyed.

you still let him feed you during those more lucid days. perhaps you might have been ‘awake’ enough to traipse yourself to the kitchen and grab a sweet treat from the fridge, but it was just so much easier to ask san to do it for you. he practically jumped at the chance, pressing a teeny kiss to your forehead with each request before shooting out of the room to complete it as soon as possible. it’s in his nature to be caring; you were simply using that to your advantage.

but perhaps san had gotten too used to your laziness as when the first day of spring finally rolled around, he found himself being rudely awoken by a weight falling atop his stomach. he groans, face screwing up in pain as all the air gets forced from his lungs. there’s a giggle that comes from the strange thing that’s wriggling over him like an overactive earth worm, and despite his frustration at his streak of lazy days being broken, he can’t help but crack a smile.

“it’s spring, i assume,” he murmurs, voice still gravelly with the remnants of last nights sleep. the worm wriggles it’s way up to his body until a head finds itself perched atop his chest. he cracks an eye open to look at you, “wriggly this morning, aren’t we?”

you make a point to squirm a little more, but your plans are soon foiled by an arm that wraps itself around your waist. “wouldn’t you be wriggly if you had the pent up energy of three whole months living inside of you?” you try to move but the grip only tightens. a displeased chuff crawls it’s way up your throat, but it does little more than make the man chuckle and tip his head back against the pillow once more.

“sleep a little more, my little pooh bear,” the nickname irritates you; that’s why he says it. san just adores hearing you grumble in complaint whilst being entirely too soft to act upon your non-verbal threats.

“i can’t sleep,” you reply, “so i’d appreciate it if you got up!”

“brat.”

“and who’s fault is that!” all your fight drains out of you when san still refuses to move. your shift your head to lay it flat against his chest, snorting out a sound of displeasure before puffing your cheeks up in a pout. san tells you you’re a good girl, but you don’t respond to him, simply too focussed on proving your displeasure. “you’re the one who pampered me all winter…”

and san supposed you’re right. he did spoil you a little more than he should so it’s no surprise that you’ve turned out to be such a little princess. he barely even blinks an eye when you command something of him, simply moving to comply to your demands straight away, and he hardly ever complains when you demand things; why would he when the you always seem so happy when he pampers you rotten? maybe his heart is too soft, or maybe you’ve just moulded it perfectly to fit right into your little mitts. san doesn’t doubt that you’re crafty enough to pull off some master manipulation scheme to make him your own personal butler, but somehow he can’t find it in him to care.

he sighs, “what do you even want to get up for? it’s cold outside and there aren’t even buds on the trees yet.”

san doesn’t even need to open the curtains to know that a thin layer of frost still carpets the grass outside; he can feel the chill infiltrating his bedroom, seeping through his skin and making his bones ache. a shiver runs through his body and to tugs you closer still.

“how do you know?” you argue.

“that it’s cold?” he replies incredulously, “because i can feel it, dummy.”

you roll your eyes, irritated at his answer.

“no,” someone’s grumpy, san thinks to himself. he’s sure he’ll have to work hard to make up for your bad mood later. whatever; he doesn’t have to pretend to be mad at it when he knows deep down that he’ll do whatever it takes to keep you smiling. “how do you know there aren’t leaves on the trees yet? your curtains are closed and so are your eyes! how can you tell if you haven’t even looked.”

god, you’re a brat.

san pushes you off of him, gently rolling you to the side before twisting his own body to pin you to the mattress. again, your body moves like a worm as he settles atop you, but one soft kiss against your neck has you melting into him. soft little cub; you’re not the only one who knows how to get what you want.

“i can tell because there weren’t any yesterday,” his voice is hushed against your ear, his warm breath tickling your soft skin. you squeal and try and squirm free, but the way he’s holding you keeps you in place. there’s another kiss right below your earlobe and you go limp once more, “trees don’t go green over night, my sweet teddy. a little patience doesn’t go amiss, sometimes.”

and you can’t help but feel like he’s making a jab at you with that last comment. patience is never something you’ve had, but again, its san’s tendency to spoil you that’s to blame. you scoff, but don’t say a thing.

“now, cub,” san whispers, “take a little nap with me and we can enjoy spring a little later.”

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

287 notes · View notes

ponderingmoonlight · 1 year ago

Text

Sukuna comforting you after a breakup

Pairing: Sukuna x reader

Word Count: 627

Notes: I don't know who needs to read this but somehow I needed to write it inspired by that edit I saw on Instagram a few days ago

Imagine Sukuna laying his eyes on your puny figure sitting on the completely destroyed sidewalk while you cry your heart out in the middle of Shibuya.

“Why the hell are you sitting there crying like a baby?”

“Leave me alone”, you mutter into your hands.

He furrows his eyebrows, body drawing closer to you. Did those words really leave your mouth? Nobody ever dares to talk to him like that. Especially not when you're all alone out here with Gojo being sealed.

“Don’t you know who I am, stupid girl?”

“I don’t give a damn about who you are. Just leave”, you bark at him.

Why? Why on earth did it end like this? You really thought you could make it, that your relationship can be saved if you put the work in it, that you’ll be able to change yourself. But then this call came in, only minutes before you arrived in Shibuya.

“It’s over, (y/n).”

It’s over. How is it supposed to be over when it didn’t even start yet? How is it supposed to be over when your heart still aches for the tender touch of your love, for the smile that haunts you in your dreams, for this one person alone? A new wave of tears swells up your puffy eyes and takes your sight, body still numb in agony. This can’t be true. It shouldn’t have ended like this.

Your heart sinks through your shaky fingertips onto the floor, bleeds out when reality hits you like a wall.

But it definitely is over.

“You’re lucky I’m having a good day.”

His voice is suddenly next to you, forces your eyes to dart up. This is Yuji. No…Just one look into his blank eyes is enough for you to realize that Sukuna himself is sitting next to you, nipping on a coke as if he isn’t the king of curses.

You should be scared. Fuck, you should scream in horror and try to run away. But instead, you just stare at him blankly. Does it even matter what happens to you anymore?

“What is it?”

“What is what?”, you try to avoid his question.

Oh god, as if it isn’t bad enough that you’re sitting here like an idiot while crying your heart out.

“What is all of this about?”

You swallow hard. There is no way out of this, no chance to escape the piercing gaze of his. You will have to tell him the truth.

“I’ve got dumped today”, you mutter.

“Dumped”, he repeats dryly.

“Dumped.”

“And that’s what you’re crying about? Some random guy?”

“It wasn’t just a random guy”, you bite back in a desperate attempt to defend yourself.

No, more like the one you imagined your future with, the one you wanted to adopt a dog or cat with, the one who was supposed to stay. But now all of this is gone in the wind. Your past, your present, your future. Everything went black.

“You know what makes me so damn strong?”

What? You blink away your tears, confusion written on your face. What on earth is he talking about?

“Because you killed countless people, are older than dinosaurs…-“

“Because I never let a love story distract me from my own strength.”

“What are you talking about?”, you huff in response, shaking your head in sheer disbelief.

What is that supposed to mean? You’re not Ryomen Sukuna, you aren’t a special grade sorcerer, you are…A no one, not even able to keep your relationship up. Fuck, you should have worked on yourself like you've promised over and over, shouldn't have started fights over things that wouldn't have changed anyway. You...You are the problem.

“Shouldn’t you be strong on your own as well?”

You have to blink a few times, mind trying to process the meaning of his words. Sukuna throws away the empty cup of coke and gets up, casually straightening his clothes before yanking your chin upwards, forcing you to stare straight into his red eyes.

“You don’t need anyone. Now get your puny self up and stop giving other people that power over you. If I see you crying over that relationship again, I’ll kill you right on the spot. Got it?”

Your heart flutters uncontrollably in your chest, hands shaking by the sheer force of his words. Why does he have to be so damn right? Why…why do you suddenly feel better?

“Got it”, you breathe out, clenching your trembling fingers into a tight fist.

Yeah, you got it.

Tags: @arehzhera @ploylulla @tzubaki @beatrexworld @dazaisdick @hellkaiserinphoenix @lauv4chuuya @shadowfoxey @starlightanyaaa @sindela @kayleegomez @sunshine7queen @magalimachete @mokoartpost @gatitam @idontknow1123 @creative1writings @sanicsmut @mynahx3 @sad-darksoul @chilichopsticks @hellkaiserinphoenix @chuyasthighs0 @ynackerman9499 @keepghostly @wxwieeee @lovelyluna1 @froufrousnowman @hidazini @tomiokathedepresso @gojosrealwife @coffeeluvr96 @mahi-tamashi @weebotaku21 @chaoticwinnercupcake @lees-chaotic-brain @risuola @sugurulefttesticle @wordskeeper @baku2345 @polarbvnny @ruixrei @bam-bam-bam-bame-blog @lavenderdrxp @localhehecat @alicerhr@kayleegomez @belovedvamp @wifenanami @chilichopsticks @dlwlrmas-world @oikawarz @darkstarlight82 @satoreo @luwumii @tachiharazsstuff @kentocalls @cheesemachine44 @ryva @kenjakusconcubine @baku2345 @komelrebi-san @deezy12299@busyreader17 @4pgletter @okay-it-is-ivy @iluvtoru

616 notes · View notes

miley1442111 · 7 months ago

Note

hi!!!!! I love your writing so much, and I loved insomniac, and i was wondering if we could get some more aaron and insomniac reader? I just thought it was so cute!!

thank you ml!

---------------------

treatment plan (part 1)- a.hotchner

---------------------

a/n: thank you so much for requesting, I love this series (as a fellow insomnia girly)

summary: aaron oversteps and it starts a fight.

pairing: aaron hotchner x insomnia! reader

warnings: angst, discussions of insomnia and feeling 'different' because of it, mental health, crying, no happy ending, aaron is an asshole, fighting

part of this au:

insomniac

---------------------

Aaron didn’t always know what to do in these situations. He’d never had trouble sleeping, he was lucky like that. He realised very early into your relationship that he was lucky. He didn’t stay up for the simple fact of not being able to sleep often, he wasn’t worrying constantly about whether or not he’d get enough sleep to function the next day, he wasn’t brought to doctor after doctor only to be told the same thing time and again. “Sorry, we can’t help you,” or “No one here specialises in that,” or, his personal least favourite; “You can’t be helped, sorry.”

He knew he was lucky he didn’t have to go through the things you did. He didn’t have to worry about what insomnia would mean for his future health, what not sleeping would do to his body.

You weren’t lucky.

Every night was a battle, ever since you were a kid. You’d kick and scream, and even now, often you’d end up in tears. It was awful, and incurable somehow, at least in your case.

Yet, Aaron didn’t want to stop looking for a solution, and that’s how you ended up sleeping at Penelope’s place, your eyes red-rimmed and puffy, and a dumb rom-com on the TV.

Fuck him.

---------------------

4 hours earlier.

Aaron walked into your shared home with his briefcase in his hand. You’d gotten off work an hour ago and come home to cook dinner. You were in the kitchen.

“Hey baby,” you smiled, wrapping your arms around his neck as he walked in. He pressed a soft kiss to your lips, then smiled down at you.

“How are you?” he asked, but everytime he asked, there was another question underneath it, one he’d stopped asking because it would always end in a fight. ‘Did you sleep?’

Aaron had left early that morning, and he felt good when he saw you asleep in your bed, and he was as silent as humanly possible while getting ready, so he’d hoped he hadn’t woken you.

“Fine,” you nodded, going back to your cooking. “Work was boring, but Lucy’s leaving so we have to go to her farewell party on Friday- if you’re around-”

“You have the sleep test on Friday night honey, we can’t go, remember?”

You sighed. “I cancelled it. I can always do it another time.”

Aaron was in shock. You’d cancelled the appointment? The appointment that was there to help you, to help you feel better. “Why would you do that Bug?”

“Because Lucy is one of my best friends, plus it’s not like the sleep test is going to work, so it doesn’t matter,” you shrugged and Aaron felt his blood boil.

In recent months, you’d become what he would call ‘complacent’ with your condition. You saw it as accepting it. After years of being told you were incurable, why should you search for a cure? They were the professionals, and you’d seen more than 60 doctors about this, in your entire lifetime. That didn’t bode well with Aaron. He would fight to the ends of the Earth for you, and he planned on trying to fight this for as long as it took, but that would only work if you were fighting too, which you weren’t.

He ran a hand through his hair, trying to calm himself. “We were on that waitlist for a year Y/n.”

“I was on that waitlist for a year, and I decided I don’t want to do it anymore, it’s my health,” you shrugged and served him up his plate. “Now tell me about your day.”

“We still need to talk about this,” he scolded, sitting across from you at your kitchen table. “You just decided to stop treatment?” His eyes were darker than usual, his signature 'negotiating stare’ trying to make you feel small. Not that Aaron himself was trying to make you small, just that you always felt… different when he looked at you like that. Strange.

“I don’t know why you can’t grasp that I’ve accepted my condition?” You scoffed. “You don’t need to worry anymore, maybe this will be good for me! I’m always so worried, and so are you, even Jack notices it for fuck’s sake! My insomnia has controlled my entire fucking life, and I’m sick of it, so yes Aaron, I decided to stop treatment,” you weren’t exactly shouting, but you weren’t calm and collected. You were at your wits end, completely. You hadn’t slept in two days, you were bordering on exhausted, and you planned to take one of the sleeping pills you had, (even though you’re slightly allergic), an allergy medication, and sleep for 15 hours straight. You were very happy Jack wasn’t meant to be back from his cousin’s house until at least after 4pm tomorrow.

“That sleep study is the closest we’ve ever been! Why would you cancel it? I understand you’re frustrated-” he started, but you cut him off.

“You don’t understand Aaron. You don’t understand. How could you? When you go to sleep, it’s simply that, sleep. To me it’s so much more, so much anxiety, so many negative thoughts, so much awful shit, so many shitty sleeples nights since I was a fucking kid! And you don’t understand that, and I'm not asking you to, but I’m asking you to accept my decision over my body Aaron. I can’t deal with this anxiety anymore around something as simple as sleeping. I feel like I have no control anymore, so this is me taking back control Aaron-” You felt yourself welling up with tears. His face was set in stone, silently judging you.

“There’s better ways to take back control of your life Y/n-”

“Tell me!” you shouted. He stayed silent. “Exactly.”

“This isn’t healthy, you’re going to hurt yourself more Y/n,” he cautioned and you scoffed, a sick smile on your face, bred from your frustration and desperation.

“Aaron, what more damage can I do to myself?-”

“I don’t want to wake up someday and have you not remember me!” He shouted. That was low. You were terrified of memory loss diseases like Alzheimer’s and Dementia.

You stared at him for a minute, small tears pushing past your ‘emotionless’ exterior. “That was low Aaron.”

“It’s the truth.”

“No it’s not, it’s your truth. Don’t mix that up,” you cautioned.

“Am I not allowed to be worried about my fiance?” he asked, but in that stupid condescending voice that made you want to smack him.

“Aaron please just stop,” you groaned, looking down into your food. This was going to turn into a lecture. This was going to break you. You were right on the edge, hanging on by a thread. And Aaron cut it clean with his next words.

“You’re being selfish.”

You blocked the rest of his speech out. Selfish. You were selfish. Selfish was silently crying so he could sleep. Selfish was indulging every single one of his stupid sleep tests and doctors even if you were in pain and exhausted. Selfish was being poked and prodded by doctor after doctor that he brought you to, in hopes of finding a cure. Selfish was hiding your condition’s worst parts (migraines, mood swings, anxiety, memory loss,and everything else) so he wouldn’t worry.

Right, you were selfish.

You got up and grabbed your jacket, keys, and phone, and you left the house. You ran into your car, Aaron hot on your heels with his booming voice screaming over you, pushing you further. Your car was cold, thus the pleasures of Washington. You shrugged it off and started driving, Aaron was trying to stop you, you didn’t let him.

Fuck him, he was the selfish one.

You drove to Penelope’s without another thought, just letting yourself cry. You couldn’t let this condition define you anymore, and you won’t let it define your relationship either. If Aaron didn’t understand that, maybe he wasn’t the right one.

---------------------

With the shitty rom-com over and Penelope heading for bed, you made your makeshift bed on the couch, and tried as hard as you could to sleep, but you ended up just thinking about it all, all night long.

What a great Friday night.

---------------------

criminal minds masterlist :)

navigation for my blog :) (criminal minds, obx, the bear, marvel, top gun, the hunger games :)

criminal minds taglist :) (message me or comment to be added :))

@princess76179

@khxna

#criminal minds #criminal minds imagine #bau team #criminal minds x reader #aaron hotchner x reader #criminal minds fandom #aaron hotchner #criminal minds fic #aaron hotchner fluff #thomas gibson x reader #thomas gibson #aaron hotchner fanfiction #aaron hotch hotchner #aaron hotch x reader #aaron hotch imagine #aaron hotchner imagine #aaron hotch fanfiction

300 notes · View notes

lydiasfalling · 8 days ago

Text

ALL MY LOVE

percy jackson x demeter!reader

➸✧˖*°࿐ taglist : open!

˗ˋˏ warnings : suggestive ˎˊ-

‧₊˚✧ lydia’s yap fest ! ✧˚₊‧

i love a good nature oriented one shot, so here is one for u!! hope you enjoy. <33 (also established relationship!!)

as you and percy trudged along the path, you began to grow more tired. your feet seemed like extra weight, your bad irritated your shoulders, and sweat was dripping down your forehead. though it was a work out, the view in the end would make everything worth it.

“are we almost there? my feet hurt.” percy groaned, hoping to gain your pity so you would stop.

“getting closer. you need a break? we can stop here and take some berries.” you responded. a little ways ahead, you noticed a blackberry bush that you wanted to stop and check out. you assumed he would be hungry as well, so it seemed to be the perfect compromise. percy eagerly nodded at your suggestion, speeding ahead to sit on a rock by the bush. you followed after him, taking some of the fruit from the shrub and rinsing them with water. you plopped one in your mouth, testing the taste to make sure percy would like them.

“these are good. try one?” you stuck out your hand, showing him the handful of berries that you picked. he took one with fear in his eyes.

“are you sure these are safe, sweet girl? i don’t want to—like—die. . . or something.” percy inspected the small fruit with intention, looking for any giveaway that it could harm him.

“percy, i would never give you something poisoned. come on. it’s literally my mothers job to know about plants and shit.”. you rolled your eyes at the pure stupidity of his comment, putting another berry in your mouth.

he sighed, giving up on his in depth inspection. “i suppose your right.” he took a small bite before putting the entire berry in his mouth, letting out a small sound of approval.

“told you.” you giggled. deciding the break was long enough, you stood up and extending your hand in percy’s direction. he begrudgingly took it, standing up and starting to walk again. the two of you continued on the journey up the mountain together. the forest was peaceful, seemingly under a blanket of silence as the sun began its decent. your intention was to make it to the mountains summit as the sunsets colors were in their prime.

time passed slowly, giving the both of you hope of making it in time. they stumbled upon the end of the trail just in time to watch the color fade from the sky.

“no way! we missed it.” percy dropped his bag down, laying on the ground in dramatics. it seemed like mother nature was out to get you, not wanting the pair of you to see the sunset.

“its fine! we got the experience of the hike.” you assured him. you guys stay at the summit for a while, talking and laughing along with eachother. you guys feel into silence finally. laying on the ground was proving to be very uncomfortable as the time drug on. percy rolled over towards you, placing his hand on your waist and pulling you into him.

“baby. . . we should head back.” percy’s skin was taunt where it touched yours, leaving a fiery hot trail in its wake.

you couldn’t help but lean further into his warm body. “really? it’s so peaceful here though. . .”

his hand hiked higher on your waist, making its way towards your chest. “you know where’s more peaceful? my cabin. no one’s there.” he said, a mischievous hint in his tone.

that made you perk up, turning to face him. “why didn’t you say so earlier?” you pulled him up, grabbing both of your bags from the ground. you guys rushed down the trail hand-in-hand, giggling like schoolgirls. though you didn’t get exactly what you wanted out of the hike, you got to spend alone-time with your favorite person on earth. maybe that was mother natures true gift.

taglist : @laufeysvalentine @dancingwithourhandsuntied

my masterlist

#percy jackson #x reader #lydiasfalling #percy jackson x reader #percy pjo #pjo #lydia’s thoughts ₊˚.༄#percy jackson fluff #random oneshot #oneshot

80 notes · View notes

sovasleepy · 7 months ago

Text

some things never change

[ iso x gn!reader ] - when iso sees the omega version of you, he lets himself take pity on you. his soft spot for you ends up being his downfall, leaving you to pick up the pieces for him.

tags: hurt/comfort, descriptions of blood and wounds, iso gets hurt, fluffy tho i promise, mild swearing, mentions of pain meds

notes: requested by anon i’m so sorry this took so long, but i hope you enjoy! it was super fun to write

lurking with a sniper wasn’t something iso was about to pride himself on, but he was doing it anyway.

the omega-earth agents knew he had a sniper, knew he would be perched in some high-up place, knew he would be watching an angle. so that’s why he wasn’t. he had wandered away from any obvious post he should be watching, opting instead to watch some ridiculous corner. it would catch them off-guard, he hoped.

“dammit— careful in kitchen, iso. lit up your twin good but he didn’t fall. last seen headed towards you.” brimstone’s voice came over the intercom.

“got it.” iso spoke back into his ear piece, voice a whisper.

the area they landed was code named icebox — the name was fit for the cold, snow-ridden biome. however, iso wasn’t outside right now. no, he was tucked into a corner down a hallway, scope of his sniper trained inside of a room that looked like it once served as a kitchen.

true to brim’s word, iso watched as his omega version stumbled in from the outside. limping, he held a hand over his side, blood coating the white material of his jacket. his finger was deadly close to squeezing the trigger when he heard your voice. almost your voice, anyway.

the voice sounded so dangerously close to your own, but it was foreign enough for him to know better. your omega version stumbled in behind him, his name falling off your tongue in a stage whisper.

maybe it was the cold environment. maybe it was the cold biting through his clothes, gnawing at him from the outside, the biting wind that had chapped his skin earlier, that was making it so damn hard for him to pull the trigger right now.

it had to be. it had to be, because if not, it was the way you held him. it was that desperate, shaking need in your voice as you begged omega-earth iso to stay with you. it was that pained look on your face as you held your hand to the wound on omega-iso’s side. it was the blood dripping over the ring on your hand, coloring the metal crimson.

the ring looked scarily accurate to his own.

he had gotten you matching rings for an anniversary a while back. it got in the way of working some times, but he would never admit that to you. you always looked so damn happy when he wore it, and he liked the feeling of having some part of you with him, so he wasn’t about to take it off.

he took a deep breath. he had to pull that trigger. he had to — it wasn’t his you. he knows how he would feel if the tables were turned, but he can’t help it, it’s his job.

before he can pull the trigger, a different loud crack echos through his ears. it takes him a few moments to register the burning hot pain throughout his body, but he’s passed out as soon as he does anyway.

he’s not quite sure how long it’s been when he wakes up again. to him, it felt almost as fast as blinking. he was there, and then everything was black. the first thing he can consciously recognize is your voice, shaky and cracking and clearly distressed, but it sounds almost like an echo, as though it was far away or he was underwater.

the next thing he can recognize is the feeling in his body. scratchy… sheets, maybe? he isn’t entirely sure. he’s trying to open his eyes, but it’s not quite working. the feeling has returned to his body, but the ability to control it hasn’t.

finally, the panic courses through him, and everything comes back all at once.

his eyes snap open and his hands move to the sides of the bed, sitting up. it’s in vain, apparently, as another jolt of pain shoots through his shoulder. he seethes and falls back against the bed.

his eyes snap open again though. almost on instinct, his gaze falls to your face. you look so worried, so concerned. your hands have blood on them and the once flawless ring has the crimson liquid now dried to it. still, you smile softly at him.

“hey…” your voice is quiet and still shaky, but there’s a level of comfort to it that iso can’t quite place. “you’re doing alright. do you remember what happened?”

iso swallows thickly before before giving a shaky almost-laugh. “i imagine i got hit.”

“yeah, that’s pretty accurate.” you reply. worry and sympathy is written clear across your expression. “uhm… look, you’re gonna be fine, but you’ve gotta be on bed rest for a little while.”

iso nods. “yeah… yeah i figured.”

there’s a short period of silence before you finally move. you turn toward the nightstand, where a bottle of water and a small container of pain pills sit. you open the pain pills first, dumping a few of them into your palm and holding your hand out. iso takes them from you.

you uncap the water bottle next. you wait as iso puts the pills in his mouth before you hold the water bottle up to his lips, letting him wash the medication down. you pull the bottle away, capping it again and setting it on the nightstand.

he clears his throat. “i could’ve- i could’ve done that myself, y’know.”

you smile softly at him as he speaks. he could’ve, you know he could’ve. “but you didn’t.”

a small smirk pulls at the corners of his lips. he doesn’t protest anymore, though, and lays his head back down against the pillow. his eyes slip closed for a moment, sleep already calling him again, but he forces himself awake. his body is tired, so so tired.

“you need to rest.” your voice cuts through the painful throb in the back of his head.

his eyes flick over to you. that worried look in your eyes is so, so close to the one that your omega version was giving the omega version of himself. he supposes it makes sense, the scenarios aren’t all that different.

“i know,” he finally responds. he’s uniquely aware of the scratch in his voice. “just… don’t want to quite yet.”

you hum thoughtfully as you move around the room. he’s not sure what you’re doing, but he couldn’t be bothered to sit up and check. a few moments later, you pad back over to his bedside.

“ok, well i need to change your bandages anyway,” your voice is soft still, but he doesn’t miss the worry in it.

“yeah, yeah…” he winces again as he moves to sit up. the pain is still in his shoulder, though he guesses he shouldn’t have assumed the pain meds would work so fast.

you take a deep breath before you move to unwrap the bandages against his shoulder. he doesn’t look down at it quite yet, but he can tell by the way your brows pin that he doesn’t look too good. his muscles are tense and he’s gripping the bed sheet a lot tighter than he’s even consciously aware of.

his breath hitches in his throat as you work, resisting the urge to pull away or tell you to stop. he knows that’s not really an option. he swallow thickly and takes a few more shaking breaths, before you smooth down the last of the bandages. you press a gentle kiss to the top of them when you’re done.

“how’s it look?” he asks as he lays down into the bed again.

you move to comb your hand through his hair almost subconsciously. “looks like a bullet wound.”

he gives you a noise somewhere between a laugh and a scoff. “i figured that much, smartass.” he replies, but his tone is playful.

“it looks fine. not great, obviously, but you’ll be fine.”

he nods, seemingly satisfied with your answer this time. he lays his head back against the pillow, and finally lets his eyes slipped closed again. you didn’t seem as distressed anymore, and he could let himself sleep with that knowledge.

#iso x reader #valorant x reader #iso valorant #iso valorant x reader #iso x you #iso x y/n #valorant x you #valorant x y/n #valorant hurt/comfort #iso hurt/comfort #iso valorant x you #iso valorant x y/n #valorant iso x you #valorant iso x y/n #valorant iso x reader #valorant #iso

210 notes · View notes

sativaonsaturn · 7 months ago

Text

the signs in love (songs for the signs pt.2)

(check venus, moon, mars, lilith, juno!)

aries/ 1st house (a steadfast love): Love On the Brain by Rihanna (who has an aries venus)

“So you can put me together/ And throw me against the wall”

“baby I'm fist fighting with fire/ Just to get close to you”

“Don't you stop loving me/ Don't quit loving me”

taurus/ 2nd house (a strong, steady love): Real Woman by PartyNextDoor (who has a taurus venus)

“Give her what she want/ Give me just what I want”

“Last night, we were sippin' Henny and now we doin' deals”

“I'm lockin' it in 'til the very end”

“Shawty met a boss like me and put a hundred down on a condo downtown with me”

gemini/ 3rd house (an expressive, exciting love): Houdini by Dua Lipa (whose lilith is in gemini)

“I come and I go/ Tell me all the ways you need me/ I'm not here for long”

“If you're good enough, you'll find a way/ Maybe you could cause a girl to change”

“Everything you say is soundin' so sweet/ But do you practise everything that you preach?”

cancer/ 4th house (a warm, comforting love): Every Kind of Way by HER (who has a cancer venus)

“You're here with me/ Boy, it don't get no better than you”

“I wanna love you in every kind of way/ I wanna please you, no matter how long it takes”

“If the world should end tomorrow and we only have today/ I'm gonna love you in every kind of way”

leo/ 5th house (a passionate love): Part II (On the Run) by Jay Z & Beyoncé (her w/ a leo mars)

“I don't care if we on the run/ Baby, 'long as I'm next to you”

“And if loving you is a crime/ Tell me why do I bring out the best in you?”

“I don't care if they give me life, I get all of my life from you/ And if loving you had a price I would pay my life for you”

virgo/ 6th house (a considerate love): My Love Mine All Mine by Mitski (who has a virgo venus)

“Moon, tell me if I could send up my heart to you/ So, when I die, which I must do could it shine down here with you?”

“My baby, here on earth/ Showed me what my heart was worth”

“Nothing in the world is mine for free/ But my love mine, all mine, all mine”

libra/ 7th house (a storybook love): Adorn by Miguel (who has a libra mars)

“Just let my love adorn you”

“Baby, these fists will always protect ya”

“Whole world's in your eyes (when I look in your eyes, baby)”

scorpio/ 8th house (an all-consuming love): Work Song by Hozier (his scorpio lilith in 8th reminds me of this)

“No grave can hold my body down, I’ll crawl home to her”

“But I swear I thought I dreamed her/ She never asked me once about the wrong I did”

“If the Lord don’t forgive me, I’d still have my baby and my babe would have me”

sagittarius/ 9th house (a thrilling love): Lowkey by Teyana Taylor (whose venus is in sag)

“If I let you, would you make a move?”

“I want it but this ain't the right time/ But, damnit, you're so fine”

“Runnin' and runnin', ain't runnin' from love/ I'm so willin' to give it a try”

capricorn/ 10th house (a serious love): You Don’t Know My Name by Alicia Keys (who has a capricorn venus)

“There's something special 'bout you, I must really like you/ 'Cause not a lotta guys are worth my time”

“I see us on our first date/ You're doin' everything that makes me smile”

“Doin' more than I've ever done for anyone's attention/ Take notice of what's in front of you”

aquarius/ 11th house (a rebellious/ unconventional love): Take Me to Church by Hozier (who has an aquarius venus)

“My lover’s got humor/ She’s the giggle at a funeral”

“Knows everybody’s disapproval/ Should’ve worshipped her sooner”

“We were born sick, heard them say it/ I was born sick but I love it”

“If I’m a pagan of the good times/ My lover’s the sunlight”

pisces/12th house (a longing love): Blessed by Daniel Caesar (who has a pisces venus)

“I don’t wanna be there, don’t wanna be anywhere/ Anyplace that I can’t feel you, I just wanna be near you”

“Sometimes it gets unhealthy/ We can’t be by ourselves, we will always need each other”

“When I go, I don’t stay gone for long”

bonus:

venus in 4th (a committed love): positions by Ariana Grande (who is a cancer sun)

“Boy, I’m tryna meet your mama on a Sunday”

“Switchin the positions for you/ I’m in the Olympics way I’m jumping through hoops”

“Know my love infinite, nothing I wouldn’t do”

sativaonsaturn 🍃🪐

164 notes · View notes

thiccpersonality · 8 months ago

Text

The Realization

It's hard being the only human in a team full of meta-humans, aliens or straight up gods, but Bruce manages to get by...even if internally he's overly critical of the work he does, always comparing himself to others and telling himself to do better. But, he secretly counts his blessings one-by-one at how he has friends colleagues that reassure him everyday that he does so much-yes, even when he doesn't ask for it...Clark always tells him it's in his eyes, that's how he knows Bruce wants it.

Bruce finds that stupid though, the only thing in his eyes is exhaustion, and if not exhaustion, then anger; and if not anger, then it's probably a cocktail of self-loathing, self-hate and self-deprecation sprinkled with a healthy dose of "I wish I was dead."

Anyhow, Bruce counts his blessings secretly, even if it doesn't seem like he's doing so. And while it's hard being one of the only humans without a power in a group full of meta-humans or fully fledged super powered beings, he is grateful for the other aspects of power he has: his name, his face, his money, influence-and one of his actual favorites...when he's in a good mood-his body. Bruce isn't an idiot (Jason: "Not all the time anyway!"), he sees the way people eye him up and down, both men and women alike, he knows their thoughts towards him...or well, his body at least.

He has seen the way women eye his arms and pecs (Wally: "You mean, Batboobs®!? And doesn't everyone eye those?"), watches the way mens eyes glaze over when staring at his mile long legs.

Which brings us to how Bruce never truly feels small, not anymore at least. Even if he was of smaller height for a man (or in general) his position in life and as a hero/vigilante would make him feel and appear big to people. So, Bruce hasn't felt small in a very long time, he tends to not pay attention to things like height much-to reiterate: he never feels small because 1. He isn't and 2. Even if he was, who would be brave enough to tell one of the richest men on earth-let alone THE Batman that he's short?

The answer: no one.

So while Bruce has never had anyone say to his face that he's short, he's the World's Greatest Detective™ (Jason and Stephanie: "Ehhhh...occasionally.) and can see for himself the difference of him compared to everyone else.

Who is everyone else you ask? Well, it's the people he works with and-and Jason. It's kind of hard for Bruce to truly pay attention to height when he never pays attention to it in the first place or when he's usually in life-threatening situations to really care, in fact, he doesn't know why he is even obsessing over such a thing-'but you do know'-his mind replies. The thing Bruce hates most is that he does-he does know what kick-started this whole height thing, and it was his son; Jason.

XXX

It was any other normal day at Wayne Manor...if you count your son entering your top-secret cave injured as normal. Bruce had his mask off, his icy blue eyes analyzing the information on his computer unblinkingly, there's been an issue with abductions recently and he doesn't want to waste any time on finding out who is up to it, so Bruce has been working overtime (Alfred in a tired tone: "As usual...") trying to find out who it is.

Just as his brain is stringing something together, he hears the sound of a motorcycle outside the Cave, Bruce's brain immediately switches to finding out who it could be. He takes into account every person already inside the house, outside of it, what said people outside said they were doing until his brain very obviously deduces that it must be Jason. Hm? Should he heat some leftovers up for Jason? What is the other here for? Why is he even overthinking it? Jason is free to come over anytime he wants...

....

.....

......

But what if the reason is bad? Is Jason mad at him again? Bruce pinches the bridge of his nose from the sudden headache he gets from his mind panicking, the man just groans softly and turns around just in time to see Jason riding into the Cave, his eyebrow raising suspiciously at the lack of fancy tricks his son bothered not doing.

Bruce silently analyzes his son's body for any signs of distress, starting from his head, he immediately noticed the crack in the helmet and can feel his muscles tighten in worry before remembering he's trained his kids to fight and be able to receive hits as well. The thing that causes him to stand up though is the fact that Jason hasn't noticed him yet, and the way the young man is holding his side isn't helping to ease Bruce's racing mind.

"Jason, is everything alright?"

Hm? Was that too forward of him? Bruce knows his children, but he especially knows Jason and Damian hate being asked for signs of-what they deem as-weakness and injury (Damian sipping his tea: "Wonder where we learned that from, father?)

Jason finally looks up at Bruce, his tone sounding a bit slurred as he speaks, "Jus' fine, B. A little-" he grunts as he stumbles off his bike-"scratch never...hurt me." Okay, so it's more than a little scratch, Bruce catches Jason and can't control the immediate frown he makes when the boy doesn't bother fighting his hold. "What actually happened? It's not just a little scratch...you are clutching your side like you've been sh-" his breathing hitches at the words he almost uttered, w-was Jason actually-

"What? S-Shot? Why's it matter if-" Jason quiets down when Bruce's words finally process, his baby blue's widening under his mask at the small ways his dad is starting to panic from the thought-"No! I was jus' stabbed is all...no shots."

Bruce will get on himself later about how his body relaxed a bit more when finding out his child wasn't shot, I mean, what kind of father feels relieved that their kid was just stabbed? He knows-deep down-that it's his...ahem..."trauma response" to guns, but it sucks for him to realize he finds himself more at ease when people he knows are hurt in different ways that aren't a gun...he feels like a horrible person when it happens.

For now though, his main priority is his son who is losing blood, blood that Bruce is finally noticing on Jason's hand.

Bruce grunts as he brings his son closer to his body, feeling momentarily surprised when he lets out the sound from moving the younger. Since when did he ever grunt when moving his children? Another thing is, when did Jason get so heavy in the first place? When did his once small boy pack on so much muscle and-oh, God...please...when did Jason ever have to bend his knees when Bruce held him?

His body is on autopilot and he can feel himself moving to the medical table, but his eyes are busy staring at Jason's bent knees, his mind screaming at him that this must be a prank his son is pulling-oh! Or maybe Bruce is actually in an alternate universe where his child is bigger than him.

Bruce sucks in a deep breath when arriving at the table, gently lying his son down so he can get to work on stitching his boy up while also giving a (most likely) hypocritical lecture on how Jason should stay safe.

XXX

It was ever since that day that Bruce has been hyper fixated on his own height, along with the height of others. He hates how he's been sneaking in tests and making things awkward with his family because he chooses not to answer and instead rushes off to panic when realizing Jason is bigger than him.

It all happened as soon as Jason was patched up too, his mind recalls every stupid miniscule little detail, from Jason's clothes to the way his hair was messy from sleep and-the worst part-how he had to look up at the nineteen-year-old when the young man got close enough to him. Barefoot and all. The worst part is how Jason didn't even seem to notice it, and Bruce is NOT risking letting his son know, because then he will be picked on for being smaller than him and then his Bluejay will no doubt drag his siblings into this.

Not to mention how Bruce doesn't want to deal with a furious Damian who will demand that they, in his words, "stop disrespecting father before he slits their throats."

It has been a miserable couple months for him-and don't you judge him for keeping this obsession up for months! How is anyone-let alone a parent-supposed to process that they are shorter than their kid? Bruce holds back his frustrated tears at realizing his children are grown and growing, for goodness sakes, he had a meltdown just yesterday when it caught up to him that Richard is a fully grown man...he will never let anyone know about how he clutched onto old pictures of his eldest while crying.

And everyday Bruce is hoping and praying against Damian's growth...of course he doesn't want his son to be stunted in his puberty process...but if he decides to stay little forever then that is perfectly okay with him.

Besides panicking over his family's growth, which, yay for them...really, Bruce has been noticing-and I mean, TRULY noticing, his friends colleagues heights. There are certain people where it's just so noticeable, like J'onn for example, that guy is so huge that you are stupid if you don't notice it. Another hero is Big Barda, I mean, she's a seven foot tall woman...you would obviously notice that.

But there are just some people he noticed it with but it didn't bother him before (thank you Jason for kick-starting this!) And now Bruce is constantly comparing himself to the most closest of colleagues to one's he barely speaks to, it's insane how many files he's gone through just to look at heights. His two closest friends colleagues Diana and Clark are two people he didn't bother with height wise. It didn't matter since they made him feel small in different ways...I mean, you have the Amazonian princess with strength and skills that would put any living creature to shame and a Kryptonian that is more human than most humans, who truly has a heart of gold despite any negative views towards him.

And then there is Bruce: cold, stoic, a touch too sarcastic, jaded, cynical, a negative Nancy, a party pooper (Jason says that), no fun, emotionally stunted, anxious, depressed, stressed, old, washed up, unfunny-and the worst of all; short.

Bruce holds back his distressed noise as Wally West, AKA: Richard's best friend who has been over a million times, stands next to him with that ever bright smile of his and is animatedly talking, effectively ruining his depressing train of thought. When did he get so big? So...grown? He takes in the maturity of his once soft face, the man is still cute no doubt, but he isn't that same round faced boy who bothered him about Alfred's cookies. Okay, okay, maybe he still is that same kid...just older looking and taller now.

"-and that's why I'll need that penthouse full of Agent A's cookies."

Bruce blinks away the sudden wetness in his eyes and looks down (ha!) at The Flash confused, though to the normal eye he looks the same old disinterested as usual. "You need a penthouse? What happened to that modest apartment you got?" Wally blinks in shock behind his mask before giving a toothy smile, "Is that what your mind got from that? I was joking about the penthouse...though Agent A's cookies would still be much appreciated."

The ginger shifts in place nervously at the way Batman is staring at him, did he do something wrong? The only thing that somewhat assures Wally that things are okay is the fact that Bruce gives a grunt of agreement before walking off.

He can't take this anymore! If Bruce stays around Wally any longer he's afraid he'll start crying in front of the kid. Instead, he'll just head to the cafeteria and drown his sorrows in today's dessert. Bruce walks in and sees that Diana is already in line, holding back his grumble as he stands next to the woman and internally mourns the fact his head only reaches her shoulder. "Good morning, my friend! It's a lovely day in space is it not?"

Bruce grunts and doesn't bother looking up at Diana, "It's the same view we see everyday we come up to the Watchtower."

The Amazonian just smiles brighter, warmth radiating from her mood. "Though we see it everyday it doesn't make it any less gorgeous up here." Bitterness. Bruce's heart is filled with bitterness at the words "up" and "here" , is-is Diana teasing him? Did she somehow find out about his fixation and is now subtly letting him know that she knows?

The feeling of warmth, like that from the sun, at his right side causes Bruce to automatically look up at the person standing so close to him. His icy blue eyes only widen under his mask at fully tilting his head back to look up at Clark, he feels like sobbing when realizing his head only comes to Clark's chest, why is the man even taller than Diana!?

"Good morning Bruce, Diana. Lovely morning up here, is it not?"

There's that stupid word again! And is it really a good morning when he's been suffering for so long? Bruce frowns at the gentle nudge at his side and Diana's jovial tone, "Told you the view is still beautiful." At Clark's questioning look Diana just smiles more, "Our friend here just is being a sourpuss today. He's grumpy about how I said the view is nice, he just replied about how we see it everyday."

Clark just smiles and looks down at Bruce, his smile turning amused when his friend doesn't move up the line. "Are you just going to stare at me all morning or will you move down the line?"

A scoff is all Bruce can give, not noticing the concerned looks shared over his head as he focuses on piling his food tray with dessert. The concern isn't necessarily from Bruce eating sweets, Diana and Clark both know how much their friend actually has a sweet tooth, the issue is coming from the fact he is willingly eating sweets in front of others on top of the amount it is. Clark just frowns worriedly and sits actual food on his plate while mouthing to Diana about what's wrong with Bruce.

In return, the princess just shakes her head and looks back down at Bruce, choosing to speak up. "You know, it's been awhile since we've eaten alone, just the three of us. Why don't we head to one of our rooms or something?" What she actually means by that is: "let's get Bruce alone so we can figure out what's wrong with him."

The two super powered heroes find themselves even more putoff at Bruce's distracted grunt...it is rare he pulls that one out, usually his grunts have some level of awareness to them, but this one is telling them that he's not actually paying attention. Which is cause for alarm in and of itself. Plus, Clark and Diana have been getting calls from Bruce's family, they are worried about how he's been acting as of late. They report Bruce is running off on them whenever they ask him what's wrong...which actually isn't out of character for Bruce, but if the Batfamily are saying it's different than usual, then it's different than usual.

The two taller heroes lead the shorter to his room, punching his code in before the door opens and they watch as Bruce automatically walks over to his bed and sits on it, shoving a cookie in his mouth and causing Clark to signal to Diana in confirmation that something is wrong.

They use their friend's distracted state to quietly talk about it while joining him in the room, "What's going on with him?" Diana raises her brow as she asks, tilting her head up and to the side so Clark can whisper in her ear. "I don't know for sure...but his lip is jutting out into a micro-pout. I quickly scanned him to see if he was hiding injuries, and while he's not, his muscles are tense as if he's holding back something."

Diana softly ah's and sets her tray down on Bruce's desk, the noise causing the man to look up at them finally. His eyebrows raising when noticing he's in his room, "Why didn't we just eat in the cafeteria?" Bruce holds back his fidgeting at the look the taller two heroes share.

Clark clears his throat, "We were going to originally...but we noticed you were acting off and suggested eating in one of our rooms as a test-"

Diana, being one to never hold back, gets to the point. "A test you failed, Bruce. To be honest, you've been acting off enough to worry your family into calling us to step in. So, can you please tell us what's going on?" Bruce feels genuine embarrassment that this is where his fixation has gotten him, he's too flustered to admit that his issue is the fact he's begun to notice people are bigger than him, I mean, what kind of issue is that?

At Bruce's silence Clark steps forward slightly, his voice patient and gentle when he speaks.

"We are your friends, B. Heck, you even feel like family. And family is there for each other just like me and Di are here for you. Jason has been feeling particularly bad lately...he says he didn't know what he did this time to make you so upset with him, you keep staring him down angrily only to storm off when he looks back at you."

Bruce feels angry with himself for letting such a stupid non-issue get this far. His looks of "anger" weren't anger towards Jason at all, he knows when he thinks hard about stuff he can sometimes look mean apparently, but he was never upset with his Jaylad...the distress was just showing on his face and Bruce most likely masked it with the first emotion that came to mind, one that's easiest for him to express or replicate; anger or irritation.

Bruce hates the involuntary distressed sound that escapes his crumb covered lips, however, for the sake of his family and ending this stupid misunderstanding, he chooses to be...honest (Batfamily: *collectively gasping*)

"Jason...he's bigger than me-" Bruce keeps the Batman mask on so he won't be too vulnerable, his hands tightening on the metal tray from the thought-"For months I have been noticing the sudden growth of my children and I...I didn't know what to do with that information. Did you know that Jason has to crouch when I hold him now? Since when did he need to do that?" At this point of his ranting, Bruce is out of bed and pacing across the room while his friends patiently listen.

"And then it hit me one day that Richard is truly a man now. Maybe that's why we got into so many fights before? I never truly realized that he didn't need my help like before-" Bruce pauses in the middle of the room and clenches his cape in his fists-"He is so much taller now and shining brighter than the little boy I picked up. Timmy is even starting to grow a bit more...which, I don't know if I should be upset or pleased that he's finally growing, that boy scares me sometimes with how small he was."

Bruce's hands instinctively reach up to run his fingers through his hair and he huffs at the mask being in the way, choosing to hide his hands underneath his cape instead.

"Wally is even so big now, did you know that? I remember the young boy with that fat freckled face pestering me about Alfred's cookies...and now that boy has the audacity to get big on me, I think I hate realizing that Dickie-bird is actually taller than his friend now, it's only by one or two inches-but still!" Bruce starts pacing again, his nerves building up once more and telling him to move.

"And don't get me started on Damian. I feel I constantly am trying to sabotage his growth...I never got to see him as a baby and so I hope he stays that small, chubby faced little boy I've come to know. I feel horrible for wishing against his growth, but I want to make his childhood as enjoyable as possible, did you know he didn't even know what movies were when he came here? He was deprived of fun and he can't grow too quickly now or fun childhood memories can't be made."

Bruce stops to finally stare at Diana and Clark, pointing accusingly at them.

"And then you two! I noticed it before, but it was never something of interest to me. I didn't need to pay attention to your heights when I feel small in other ways with you two...you-" Bruce grunts at Clark gently slamming into him and hugging him, the man sounding a mix of fond, touched, baffled and sad. "You don't need to feel small with us. I for one think you are bigger than any of us in many different ways...I mean, you just admitted to having a crisis at realizing your family grew."

Diana joins in on the hug with a soft chuckle, "I'm just surprised you didn't notice our height difference sooner. Clark and I always talked about how cute it is to pick you up, your our tiny human."

The woman just smiles more when Clark nudges her side in warning for her playful words, "But in all seriousness. This has to be the cutest moment we've seen from you ever, instead of a midlife crisis you are having a parental crisis-" Diana cackles again when Clark pokes her side again-"What? I am being serious. But also, this just shows how much you care...and I think it's only normal to feel this way when you never expected to have a family of your own in the first place."

Bruce's breath hitches at the gentleness in which Diana speaks the last part, his eyes prickling with tears at realizing deep down she's right. Ever since he took in Richard he was always amazed and scared at having a family, and no matter how much he's tried to deny it in his worst moments, that's what Richard became ever since he thought of taking him in. Bruce never expected a family, which is why he tries so hard to deny it...and I guess after years of taking care of children it's finally caught up to him that his family-more specifically, his children (because that's who they are) have grown into functioning adults.

He never thought he would want a family after losing his in that alleyway, but if anyone were to take down his defenses...of course it'd be a child.

Clark gently reaches up to tug Bruce's mask off and finds himself wanting to cry at seeing the fat droplets-hanging on for dear life-onto Bruce's eyes, even now his friend doesn't want to seem weak. He can't help but chuckle at the incredulous look Bruce gives him for wanting to cry as well.

"You can cry, Bruce. What are friends for?"

Bruce feels his face grow red, his body loosening in Clark and Diana's hold as months of tension leaves his being through his tears, choosing to hide his face in his friends strong bodies. He hates crying and how good it makes him feel afterwards, he doesn't think he deserves that feeling most days, but for now, it's okay. Bruce also can't help the eye roll at hearing Clark sniffle as well, he's such a crybaby. Diana just smirks at her two boys, carding her long, elegant fingers through Bruce's hair, the two taller heroes paying close attention to Bruce as he shifts in their hold and speaks up. Voice slightly muffled.

"Never speak about this to anyone."

Diana and Clark share a look before silently coming into agreement and lifting Bruce off his feet, reveling in his annoyed protests with laughter.

"We wouldn't dare."

("1. He isn't and 2. Even if he was, who would be brave enough to tell one of the richest men on earth-let alone THE Batman that he's short?" Does the second option imply or mean Bruce is short or is it just a scenario? You decide! I constantly switch between Bruce being a genuine short king and him just being around people that make him feel freaking short 😂.

"Clark gently reaches up to tug Bruce's mask off and finds himself wanting to cry at seeing the fat droplets-hanging on for dear life-onto Bruce's eyes, even now his friend doesn't want to seem weak." <-(Damian and Jason sipping on their tea: "Seems we found that answer to who we learned that from. 😌")

Also, I am so sorry this story got so long! I didn't mean to 😭. This idea has been in my head, and I usually forget my ideas...but this time I actually wanted to remember lol. This is also kind of based off of the one day I was hugging my baby brother and realized I actually had to look up at him...he's only 14 (while writing this I also just remembered he's 14 😭😭😭), I went back into my room and literally just sat there reminiscing on my bed about when he was brought home from the hospital to all the good times we had together and even things I wish I did different with him growing up 😂.

Also, also, I apologize for the constant whiplash from some semblance of humor (or something), to slightly crack-ish (I think so at least) writing to things getting deep and emotional. I was feeling fickle with the vibe of this story I guess, so I said: "why not everything?" 😂😂😂

This is getting even longer cause I like talking too much in notes lol, so I'm going to leave with a thank you! Anyone and everyone who bothers to read this long mess is very much appreciated!

Please remember to stay safe, happy, healthy and of course lovely as always. 💛)

309 notes · View notes

cupiidk1lls · 1 month ago

Text

✮ ° BAD IDEA, RIGHT? . .

based on my bot , ‘bad idea, right?’

WARNINGS : suggestive, tipsy!reader, tipsy!chris, needy!chris? making out, cliffhanger (yikes….)

“hello?” you start, your hand bringing your phone up to your ear, as your other hand covers the other ear, blocking out the sounds of the ongoing party in the background, as you stumble into a cubicle, in your deathly heels.

“hey. wanna chill ‘ere, for the night?” an all too familiar voice replies back, in a slight monotone voice, all nonchalant-like. “m’free.. n’.. y’know, alone.” the man says, sounding quite bored, yet slightly needy, as he babbles on too you. though, despite his needy demeanour, you can hear the desire he’s trying ever so desperately to conceal, the smirk on his face being heard so easily by you…

you haven’t heard from chris in a couple of months. not one text, not one phone call. nothing. it was like he never existed, like you two never existed, the relationship. but you weren’t shocked, at the end of the day, it was chris. aka, the biggest womaniser ever to even set foot on earth. why would specifically you be so special to keep under his arm?

you’re out in a bar, all fucked up, with your girls. downing shot after shot, trying to find answers at the bottom of a bottle. nothing is fucking working. and, from the sounds of things, it sounds like he’s doing the same exact thing, finding comfort in a bottle of alcohol and a good, rowdy party rather than taking good care of himself and spending some time alone. he can’t get over you, and he hates it. it scares him, he’s never been so utterly attached to a woman before, so in love that he can’t get over them.

so in love that he’s almost moaning your name, instead of the different girls name he has in his bed.

out with all your girlfriends… you know you shouldn’t, you know they’ve been scolding you for the past two hours about potentially running back to him. because they know you, and they know you well enough to know that you’ll be on your knees for him with your hair in a makeshift ponytail in the space of five seconds. they know you very, very well.

but, hey ho. what they don’t know won’t hurt them, right?

❛ seein’ him tonight.. it’s a bad idea, right? ❜

you definitely should not be driving, considering the tipsy state that you are currently in right now. but you couldn’t care less about your safety. your safety is the least of your worries. the one thing that’s on your mind is him. him, him, him. luckily, you managed to sneak away from the party, your phone pinging with his messages, the reminders of his new address that he just sent you, the occasional typos.

eventually, you pull up in his driveway, your car coming to an abrupt stop as you take your hand off the steering wheel and lean down to grab your shiny handbag from under the seat. the calm, summer breeze of the night hits your face as you step out of the car, wafting your hair away from your face with your free hand as you slam the car shut with the other, the clanging of the chains from the bag hitting the door.

you run your hands down your body swiftly, getting rid of the dress creases as you keep your eyes on the ground, watching your heels as you carefully walk up his driveway, up the steps.

you look up, only to be met with the sight of chris. he stands by the doorway, a smirk on his face with his hands thrusted into his low slacks, his chest being slightly revealed due to the top two buttons on his dress shirt being unbuttoned. his tongue rolls across his front teeth, as he pushes himself off the door casing. a low chuckle escapes his lips as he looks at your tipsy state, it being a sound of pure desire as he looks at the way your little dress clings to your thighs, the only source of light being shined on you being the dim, warm lights from his porch.

you lick your lips, almost automatically making him lick his own as you step closer to him, your arms by your side as you tilt your head back a little, in order to keep eye contact with him. you stop infront of him, keeping direct eye contact at all times, a smirk of mischief on your face.

his pants get tighter almost immediately, imagining what he’s gonna do to you when he gets you in his bed, where you belong, where you always belong. not them stupid, bimbo girls he’s had a few nights in a row for the past couple of weeks. you should take up that left side in his bed. a shaky sigh escapes him as he adjusts himself discreetly, tucking himself under his thigh as he mindlessly bites his bottom lip, trying to keep himself together and.. stable.

you chuckle softly, your hand reaching out swiftly. you grab his tie, and walk inside the house. you pull him along, then yank him towards you, your back colliding with the door as you slam it shut, his lips connecting with yours immediately, moving against your own in a dance of desperation. he hums against your lips, his tongue brushing against your bottom lip, asking for permission to enter, as his hand slides to the side of your neck, subtly squeezing. this is what you missed, this is what he missed too. this is what he craved, and this is what you craved too.

“mnff.. fucking god..” he groans quietly into your mouth, his hands sliding down to your hips and tugging them onto his own, a shaky sigh escaping his lips again. “missed you.. so, so much.. y’don’t even know..” he grips your mini dress, holding onto it with a death grip with every hint of dominance and power he can, his tongue forcing itself into your mouth, swirling and rolling against your own, his saliva exchanging with yours. “ungh..” he grunts, his jaw slacking open abit, unable to catch up with your lips. he’d missed how warm your tongue was.

you whimper, your back arching off the cold door, your body shivering, your thighs weakening in result to his kisses and his dominant, needy demeanour. “missed you too.. ngh.. missed you so much..” your lips slide off his own with a gasp, as he chuckles, his mouth trailing down your neck as his hands make their way down to your ass, his lips leaving trail after trail of saliva down your throat, kissing sloppily. “missed me soooo much, huh? care to prove that, ma?”

❛ … fuck it, it’s fine! ❜

𝜗𝜚 kami’scupids! : @colorthecosmos444 @pr3ttyf4wn @nickgurl4life @loveparqdise @marrykisskilled @sturniolosiphone @slut4chris888 @tyummyz @caliluvsux @meowmeowmsow @sweetrelieef

# 𝐭𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐝𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐡 𝐝𝐨 𝐮𝐬 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭, 𝐤𝐚𝐦𝐞𝐫𝐨𝐧. ❤︎︎

. • ° 𝑴𝑨𝑺𝑻𝑬𝑹𝑳𝑰𝑺𝑻 . . 𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 . . ・。.

✦ KISS divider : @adornedwithlight ..

✦ SILVER divider : @animatedglittergraphics-n-more ..

yurrrrrrrrrrrr not good at writing smut um this is my first time………..

hope u enjoyed! sorry for the cliffhanger chat.

#₊ 𐙚 𓂃 ࣪ cupiidk1llsbotz.#𓉸ྀི kami’stumblrrr .˳˳.⋅ॱ #chris sturniolo #chris sturniolo smut #chris sturniolo x reader

71 notes · View notes