#maybe its my teenage hormones that do that | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

foldingfittedsheets · 3 months ago

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A basic human skill that people usually lock down around the age of three or four is impulse control. To conceptualize an action and it’s consequences before taking it. Maybe considering how that action affects other people. We then refine it through most of our childhood.

When I was a teenager my hold on this ability became… tenuous. I became a volatile and dangerous creature.

It’s probably not unique to me, but I had a perfect storm in terms of mental upsets. I had just mastered enough basic social skills, so I finally had a strong group of friends when my dad suddenly needed to move for work. Ripped away from my support network, blooming with hormones, I was dragged to Arizona. I was always a child of forests and mist and suddenly everything was hot, dry, and extremely pointy and aggressive.

Additionally to being abruptly transplanted I found myself an object of affection in a way I’d never been before. Lonely and desperate to make friends the only people who wanted to spend time with me had romantic designs. I just wanted to figure out my shit but I had a baby lesbian flirting with increasing aggression in art, a soft boy making heart eyes at me in biology, a senior nerd asking if I wanted to play Halo at his house and could he hold my hand?

Reader, I snapped. I didn’t want this romantic attention but I also didn’t want to be alone. My brain coped the only way it knew how, by simply cutting out decision making. Any action was the right action to take.

It started with the boy in biology. I’d stolen his pencil out of mischief and to my overwhelming fury instead of trying to steal it back he just softened his eyes and chucked me gently under my chin, a gesture so overtly sweet and romantic that I saw red.

I stabbed him with his own pencil.

I honestly and truly have no memory of it. It happened as fast as a snake striking and I was instantly filled with terrified remorse. Unfortunately that manifested as psychotic giggling.

“I’m so sorry, I didn’t- I don’t know why- I’m so sorry!” I said, while hysterically laughing. I ended up having lodged some graphite in his palm and had to tweeze it out with my nails while apologizing furiously. (It’s very important to note here that he forgave me and we’re still friends)

That was weird, I thought. Why didn’t I think before I stabbed someone?

The next event was equally catastrophic, and I had even less reason to do it. In gym with two girls I was tentatively befriending, we were warming up running laps. I started racing one of them. At breakneck speed we were sprinting around the gym.

This time, there was a blip of thought before I fucked up. I should get the other girl! I have no idea why or what the plan was but I turned on a swivel and body checked the other girl. We both fell down in immense pain. I think that’s the moment I broke my tailbone. Her knees were horribly bruised and she looked at me in bewildered pain. “Why did you do that?!”

I had no idea. I apologized and helped her up, both of us hobbling like newborn horses, bruised and hurting.

By this time there’d been enough social upheavals that I was reduced to spending time with some girls I had nothing in common with and low key disliked. Sat at a table listening to this girl talk about how she wanted to be a stripper when she grew up I thought, You’d better put the cap on before you throw it.

I then chucked my empty water bottle directly at her face. It bounced off her forehead with a bop! that would have made a sound mixer weep at its perfection.

All eyes turned to me is startlement. I stared back at her, stunned by my own action, just as confused as everyone else at the table as to why I’d done that. One of the girls to my right said, “Were you trying to hit that fly?”

“Yes!” I lied, “I’m sorry, I thought I could hit the fly!”

Everyone laughed at my antics and I joined in rather than admit I had just chucked something at her for no reason.

Things did start to improve after that. I solidified a friendship with the girl I’d raced (who I developed a massive crush on and ten years later would go on to date). My outbursts turned more whimsical rather than aggressive. Like accosting a girl leaving the cafeteria to look deeply into her eyes and say with great compassion, “It’s going to be alright.”

My new friend and I snuck into the van that delivered our cafeterias baked goods and lay giggling in the back. When I’d impulsively hopped in she’d joined me and made it a game.

After a year in Arizona I broke down crying to my mother, an act of great desperation, and we ended up moving back home. My impulse control returned to normal teenage levels and life resumed in a happier state of mind.

#ramblies #story #writing #ffs foibles #funny story #teen angst #arizona #impulse control

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wlntrsldler · 9 months ago

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college! fratboy!luke situationship

mdni; this is for my fellow ksig!luke truther @starswillow

the idea of staying on campus for the summer almost made you want to reject the research position you were offered by one of the labs in your department, but the stipend, free housing and meals were too good to turn down. you didn’t necessarily want to go back to the middle of nowhere indiana to live with your parents for three months, which was the only other option you had, so you stayed while all your friends said their goodbyes and went off to start their summer travels or internships in big cities.

you had a plan– you were going to go to lab, go eat, and head straight home. you were going to use the summer to recharge from the stress of your first year in college. you didn’t plan to run into luke castellan, who was re-taking a class in the lab next to yours because he fucked up his final experiment so bad, even the professor couldn’t figure out what he managed to do. and you definitely didn’t plan to fall into a situationship with the newly pledged ksig brother, but here you were.

it started out innocently enough. his class ended the same time you took your lunch hour and he’d see you walking out with the rest of the future college drop-outs like him to the dining hall. luke had never seen you around before, after all the school was huge and it seemed like you’d be in classes that he was too dumb to even attempt. for fuck’s sake, he failed chem 101 and you were working in the lab of one of the most respected, tenured professors on campus. it wasn’t fully his fault, at least that’s what he told himself. he’d been sheltered away at a k-12 school in the middle of montauk for all his life and college was his first taste of independence. maybe he went a little overboard sometimes with a party every weekend, joining a fraternity, and serial dating so much that he virtually had no time to do his assignments.

around day four of running into you, luke decided to approach you. his opening line was a simple, hey, were you in my stats class last semester? again, he knew you weren’t in his class, but he needed an opening to talk to you. you turned around, blinking up at him in confusion because you didn’t take a single math class last year, and shook your head. he shrugged and introduced himself anyway.

it became a routine after that. if you got out on your lunch break before he did, you’d wait by the benches next to his lab. if he got dismissed from class before you, he would lean against the outside wall of your lab and play mindless games on his phone until you emerged. lunch hours turned into dinner requests to late-night study sessions when you found out he was struggling with chem. (his assumptions were right– you were too smart for him. you’d skipped the first two introductory chem classes because the placement test all freshmen took showed that you were way ahead of the curve.)

steadily, luke’s grades got better, mostly because of you, the two of you spent more time together than apart, and your original plan of using the summer recharging was turned on its head.

it began as the typical college fling. putting hundreds of hormonal teenagers in a confined space was a recipe for disaster. your summer consisted of fooling around with luke in the quiet of your dorm, the backseat of his car, and on occasion, the bathrooms in the chem building when one of you was feeling needy during the day. you’d heard your friends' stories of their hook-up culture experiences and you’d been sexiled by your roommate one too many times for your liking, but you never saw the appeal of it back then. but luke sauntered into your room for the first time when you invited him, with thoughts of things other than understanding covalent bonds in his mind.

you weren’t blind. you knew there were attractive people on your campus, but you’d never felt physically attracted to any of them, until luke castellan, backpack slung across one shoulder, with a backwards boston red sox cap on, gray sweatpants, and black compression shirt on. the silver chain he always wore around his neck wasn’t tucked under his shirt like usual and the diy beaded bracelet he had on his wrist was a perfect contrast to his tanned, veiny hands-- and you knew you were fucked.

luke fucked you on the uncomfortable university, twin-xl mattress, drinking in the pretty sounds you were making while his cock deliciously pistoned inside of you. all his notes and books were long forgotten on the floor of your dorm while his hips snapped against yours, teeth nipping at the skin of your collarbone while he groaned the filthiest things in your ear that had you blushing and tightening around his cock. my brilliant girl, but so dumb around my cock. you like that, baby? you take me so well, my best girl.

and all you could manage to do was babble out incoherent sentences that usually ended with you panting out his name, the only thing you’d remember through the fog in your mind. luke. luke. luke.

he loved it. he loved hearing his name leave your lips, all raw and hoarse, like how he knew his back would look with all the scratches you clawed into his skin. he’d pull out, against his primal urge to plant his cum so deep inside you, and finish on your sternum. then, he’d take his two fingers, scoop up his cum, and watch your greedy tongue suck around his digits with your big, fucked-out, eyes staring at him as if you worshipped him. luke wasn’t selfish either, in fact he was giving, which came as a shock to you.

he’d spent hours lapping at your aching pussy, eating you out until you were pulling him off with a whine from multiple orgasms, or until his dick was standing at attention again because he couldn’t imagine a hotter thing to watch besides seeing your face contort in absolute pleasure because of him.

the pillow talk and after-care were amazing too. he wouldn’t leave immediately after your long nights together. sometimes, he’d stay in your dorm even when you left to go to the lab for the day. when you came back, your room was pristine. luke would make your bed and clean up the sticky residues from the night before, just to mess it up again a few hours later.

he never shared with you was that he was in a frat that was notorious for having situationships that never amounted to anything but that. so imagine your surprise when you decided to give into your friends’ insistence and attended the first party of the school year at the ksig house and found luke castellan at the dj booth with his ksig shirt on, surrounded by pretty girls with red cups in their hands. he had his arm thrown over the shoulder of another boy, chris rodriguez, as he screamed out the lyrics to love me by lil wayne.

when luke's eyes spotted yours in the crowd, his face broke out into a mischievous smile as he raced down the stage to grab your hand. he led you upstairs to his bedroom, deadbolting the door, and fucked you like it was summer again.

it wasn't bad for your first situationship.

#frances writes #luke castellan #luke castellan x reader #luke castellan imagine #luke castellan pjo #luke castellan fanfic #luke castellan x yn #luke castellan x you #luke castellan x y/n #luke castellan smut

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metranart · 5 months ago

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Mikey x Reader x Draken (Tokyo Revengers)(Part 9)

Being a gang leader doesn’t leave a lot of free time and having hit the critical age of the hormonal teenager, Draken and Mikey are beginning to feel the raging urge of having some needs meet.

You end up ordering hot cakes and mint tea, Mikey orders a milkshake and waffles and Draken takes eggs, bacon and black coffee.

Silence follows when you all start to eat, only munching sounds and your loud thoughts can be heard. The three of you actually so hungry that your plates are empty in less than five minutes.

These are the best hot cakes you have ever had! Or maybe you were that hungry, but whatever it was, you sigh satisfied and grin at feeling comfortable at least by the food.

Searching for the scarce remains of that comforting feeling, your finger slides across the porcelain plate to get the remains of honey you can.

You're usually not that messy but it's a little inevitable when these flavors are the only thing at the moment giving you certain kind of peace of mind.

A golden, honeyed drop rolls from your fingertip to your lips and then down your chin. Your tongue darts out to stop its journey down but it’s a second too slow.

Your gasp catches inside your lungs, and unrequested goosebumps raid your whole body when both blonds mercilessly attack you.

Mikey's lips are the first thing you feel, in a chaste, gentle peck next to your lips, as if asking permission, even so, he doesn't wait as he always does and the next thing you feel is his velvety tongue, wet and warm, following the rebellious path of the honey drop, down your chin.

While Draken, for his part, yanks your wrist in the gentlest of pulls, like re-teaching your body to stretch. The tall gang member merely grins when your stares cross and even when your shocked expression screams of how unsettled you feel for what he is about to do, he still does it.

His mouth opens and your honey-coated index finger finds its way inside it. Those glossy lips close around the stoic digit and his tongue dances slowly, almost sensually lazy around the skin. Devouring the honey but mostly feeding on your blushing, nervous disposition, since his gaze never falters from yours.

You gulp hard, having both blondes stick to a part of your body in public isn’t exactly what you ordered for breakfast and once clean, both reluctantly abandon their task.

Mikey gives one last smooch to your cheek as Draken pecks tenderly the pad of your finger, and soon both are using the sleeves of their uniforms to wipe off the rests of saliva from you.

“—My milkshake was good…. But damn! How do you always manage to taste sweeter, darlin’?”

Mikey’s cheeks are red, chest heaving, all the sign you don’t wanna see.

“It-…. It isn’t me, Sano.” You reply swiftly as if trying to dissuade whatever thought might be inside that hormonal head of his, “… it was the honey what you tasted—”

“Nah~” Draken butts in, “sure the honey was sweet, but nothing compared to your pussy...”

“Draken, shut it—”

“Your pussy is…” Draken openly ignores you and keeps daydreaming, “fuck! Is my favorite flavor.”

“Stop, Draken!”

“I mean, if I could have as every meal, a full plate of your sweet, shaven—”

Both your palms slap at his mouth to stop his next words, and you can hear Mikey burst out laughing.

“Knock it off, Ken Ryuguji.” You scold him like a little child, and he merrily shrugs, nonchalant.

Your face is beat red and your heartbeat a mess, a wild mix of emotions painting your whole face: embarrassment, anger, shock, uneasiness with a pinch of honeyed excitement…. You are not sure where the excitement comes from, but it surprises you to even feel it.

You can feel Draken smirk under your hands and then his lips start kissing your palms making you recoil back, fast.

The sub-commander chuckles. “Do that again.” He asks suddenly.

And putting your hands under the table on top of your thighs, you shake your negative.

Mikey snickers at your sheepishness. “—I bet you thought I was the worst of the two,” the short blonde grins, “…. I’m a walk in the park compared to this one.”

He motions to his bestie and the tall teen stares back smugly, before repeat.

“Do that again.”

You squint your eyes at him, “… it was a spurt of the moment—”

“Nevertheless, do it again.”

You shake your head stubbornly and Draken narrows his eyes mischievously.

“You have the sweetest PUSS—”

His loud statement is cut short by your hands pressing again against his mouth, and Mikey can’t help but laugh, clutching his stomach while he amusedly enjoys Draken’s misbehaving.

“God, it’s like dealing with a child in steroids!”

You complain a little fed up, but your outburst only makes Mikey laugh harder. Draken starts to say something, yet his words come out muffled, and he ends up licking your palm in order for you to let go.

“Gross, Draken—”

“Not Draken,” he points out, “Ken-… Ken Ryuguji.” He asks, and his heartfelt request slowly fades Mikey’s laughter into a curious grin.

“Say my name, my real name…. Do it again.”

That’s what he meant before. His name, he wanted you to say his name.

“I loved the sound of it,” Draken admits, “in your voice,” he continues, “tagging me as taken and owned since no one else is allowed to use that name apart from MY boy—”

You raise an eyebrow and quickly Mikey lifts a finger to claim your attention, “I’m HIS boy.”

“… His boy.” You repeat more to yourself and a thousand memories of them flood your brain, from them eating each other’s mouths, to them jacking off, to them sucking, groping, kissing, fucki—

“Are you a couple?” you can't help but ask, “I mean…. since when are you a couple? I mean…does anyone know? .... Probably not, since no tough, gang member from Japan” you point out, “…would faithfully follow a homosexual couple-…sometimes we are such a closed-minded culture—”

“We don't like men,” Mikey interrupts you, “…we like and are crazy about women.” The Toman leader states and soon adds, “—we have never and will never be with another man.”

You pout, doubts and questions reflecting in your features.

Draken chuckles lightly, to then reach out to you and draw his knuckles gently over your creased forehead until it smoothens.

“We don’t fancy cock,” the tall blond explains, “we fancy pus-…”

Your hand raises in warning and Draken giggles, ending up just mouthing the word without sound. So, you lower your hand.

“But I saw you-…” you remind them, “I saw you, kissing, touching and doing stuff to each other—”

“Sure, Draken is mine and I’m his.” Mikey claims without shame. “We are each other’s exception.”

“-Then I’m just your plaything…”

“NO.” They stress in unison.

“You are OURS.” Draken is the one to speak first, “our girl, our soulmate, the missing part on our triangle…”

“Our future wife.” Mikey adds, swiftly. His black gaze set on you, to watch your reaction firsthand.

You do your best to keep the shock down and under a serene facade of numb detachment, to then say as cold and indifferent as you can.

“I’m your actual cumdump and future sex slave—”

“NO!” they say in unison one more time. Their voices sound strained as an angry beg.

“We love you-”

“DON’T say something you don’t mean,” you say in a fit, “it’s kind of a dick move, you don’t have to pretend,” your words stop them cold. “I already slept with you, I already did everything with you-…. you can cut the crap!”

There’s a solid awkward silence which would have linger there if it wouldn’t be interrupted by the waitress asking you if you needed anything else. You ask for the check and the silence permeates the booth until the check arrives.

“—Like I promised yesterday, this one is on me… you know, for take me to the hospital and pay for it,” you take some bills out of a hidden pocket in your pants and place it on top of the table, “… and this-” you take another couple of bills, “is for the scarring sex, that way we can stop calling it rape,” you add in an icy, full of contempt tone, “… I won’t call the police on you and you won’t look for me again, we are even.”

Your voice is final, yet silence is the only response you get.

You sigh, unable to look them in the face, that way you can keep the tough act at float.

“Excuse me, Sano.” You say to the immobile blond next to you, and to your utter surprise, he does move.

Standing up, Mikey offers you his hand to get out of the booth, yet you don’t take it but do thank for his chivalry to which he faintly nods.

Not a single word has come out of their mouths and somehow that uneased you, but whatever this strike of luck is, you are sure to take advantage of it.

Sporting the same utter silence, the three stand still for a minute before starting to walk to the exit, when a better idea grazes your brain.

“I’m going to pass to the restroom before go, wait for me here?”

Both gang members merely stare at you in response. Those sharp gazes devoid of any recognizable emotions make you look away and at your feet instead, and a little more than shaken, you spin on your hills to go to the bathroom.

Once inside you check the door to confirm that they won't burst inside and once more at ease. You splash some cold water to your face to then look for a window.

“There.” You mutter mutedly when you finally find a way out of the nightmare. A small, yet big enough, window greets you from the last stall, and using the toilet as leverage, you glance back through your shoulder one last time to then sneak out.

Your little legs are the first thing to stick out the window, using your hands to support your weight before letting you fall to the floor of the alley hidden between the streets. Sound of people reach your ear, yet you ignore them.

Before your feet touch the hard ground a wave of happiness begins to invade you, God! You did it! You escaped from them…. You are so excited that your face feels numb and when you feel the soles of your boots touch the ground, you almost jump with excitement.

Crouched down, you close your eyes to enjoy the moment of victory, a victory that threatens to turn to ashes in your mouth when the sun bouncing off the walls of the alley is blocked by something large.

“Look guys, don't we know this cute little thing?”

You hear someone say in a familiar voice and turning around suddenly, your eyes widen in worry, as you encounter a faction of the gang, you defeated the night before.

The beaten and putrid face of the person who betrayed your gang and the Toman and unleashed all the conflict between gangs, smiles macabrely down at you while licking his lips.

“You, little bitch,” the gang member spells slowly, “I’ve been looking for you. Yesterday I lost to you, but today I'm going to get even.”

The traitor's henchmen make a half circle, cornering you against the wall and blocking any escape route, your main enemy takes the center to be able to see you from the front and to delight in the terror your eyes show when he begins to unbutton his pants belt.

“First you are going to pay me for the beating,” his belt opens wide and now his fingers continue with the buttons of his pants, “then you are going to compensate me for my effort,” he lowers the zipper, “and once that you have that annoying mouth full of my cock and my cum slides down your beautiful esophagus, all of we are going to teach you that in gangs there is a rule that should never be broken," he takes out his vulgar cock, erect and swollen, and strokes it a couple of times, smearing drops of precum from the head all over the shaft, “No Girls Allow!”

This is your fucking luck!

From your crouching position you scan the horizon and seeing a small space, you lunge towards it hoping to get away, but one of the boys catches you and pulls you back towards the center of the circle, scratching and kicking to no avail.

With no options left, you throw a punch, and a scream of pain paints the silence of the pleasant morning when the bandage wrapping your closed fist begins to turn red.

Even when that painful punch managed to take down one of the boys, and if it weren't for the incapacitating wound throbbing in your hand, you might have defeated the rest, you now that you are doom. You're so tired and exhausted, the little strength in you slowly fades as you fall to your knees hugging your hand to your chest.

“You fucking stuck-up bitch!” one of the henchmen shouts, kicking you in the stomach, “we are going to teach you how to behave!!”

Yanking you from the hair, he stands behind you and presents you to his leader once he has you subdued. “Go on, shove it all the way in, that's what this slut is good for.”

The insults and laughter do not wait, and you almost block your jaw by closing it so tightly.

“Open your mouth, so I can give you your breakfast.” The traitor mocks, swanking his junk in front of your face before slapping you with it. You almost open your mouth in gag reflection, at the disgust of feeling his warm, wet skin against your cheek.

“Open your fucking mouth, scum.” Large, rough hands fixate on your jaw, trying to open it with violent and rough movements but you refuse, the pain is getting higher and higher, but you prefer it to swallowing what awaits you. “Come on, otherwise we're going to have to use another, tighter hole.”

Everyone laughs, some watching animatedly while others holding your hands to prevent you from hitting them.

“Dibs on her ass.” You hear one say.

“Oh man, I wanted her ass, well I’ll settle for her pussy.”

“Fuck that, I want to fuck her tits, look at those! So freaking big and plush!”

All the stares fall on your breast, and you can almost hear them lick their lips, terror fills you to the point of desperation when one of them finally uses his brain.

“Pinch her nose,” one suggests, “my mom used to do that to force me to eat when I didn't want to.”

“Ten points for Gryffindor,” the traitor says, and one of his henchmen pinches your nose painfully tight. Air stops flooding your system, and everyone waits with bated breath, enjoying the way your face is starting to change color.

“She has to open her mouth eventually, don't she?” one wonders, worry looming just a little, unable to wrap his head at how much you have lasted without air.

“She's stubborn but she's not stupid,” the leader reaches out to smear the tip of his cock against your trembling lips. “Ready to suck me off?”

The air finally runs out and your lungs scream for oxygen, your mouth opens and tears of frustration fall down your cheeks when a loud crash is heard and you suddenly fall to the ground, gasping.

Your tear-filled eyes can't focus properly and you're too busy sucking in air to pay attention to anything else, but you definitely see what looks like a mass of black and gold, delivering out punches.

“Fuckin’ bastard, I’m going to kill ya!”

Someone roars while entering running from the entrance of the alley, someone tall and big, and you can sense with half-numb ears and glassy eyes how all the boys attacking you are now a throbbing, bloody mass on the floor.

Thus, that enemy faction lies unconscious, pulverized and catatonic against the hard and dirty cement of the alley teased by some shy sun rays.

Mikey and Draken don't stop at that, they continue demolishing them with blows until the inert bodies are barely breathing.

The gasps you hear from the two blondes are more of fury than real effort, they both heard your scream and entering the bathroom, they didn't find you.

Panic set in when Mikey, the only other one who was able to slide out the little window into the alley, saw that you were about to be assaulted.

Falling from the sky in front of you, like your angel of salvation, the blonde went crazy with anger, not even waiting for his lover, who had to go around the restaurant to get there.

Once the anger subsided a little, they were able to think again, and both ran to your side. Crouching next to your battered body, covered in bruises and a bleeding hand.

“Damn it, her wound opened again.” Draken exclaimed, removing the shirt under his jacket to stop the bleeding.

“Let's take her to the hospital—”

“And what money are we supposed to pay with, Mikey? Or we let them patch up her again and then sneak out using a bathroom window….” Draken's annoyed gaze falls prejudicially on you and your recent actions, and Mikey immediately tries to calm him down.

“No need for the sarcasm, man.” Mikey disapproves, “later we can discuss how to reprimand this disobedient kitten. I know! Let's take her to Mitsuya and Hakkai.”

The leader of the Toman suggests. "He’s good with this kind of wounds, plus Mitsuya is excellent at sewing-"

“Sweaters and dresses, not people!” Draken chimes, applying more pressure to your wound.

“Take me… home.” You suggest weakly, and they both look down at you.

“My older sister is a nurse,” you inform them, “she will help me for free, she is very good.”

The blondes don't seem convinced and soon the questions everyone harvest in their minds, pops out from Mikey’s mouth.

“Why didn't we take you to her yesterday?”

The blonde motions his head at the wound on your hand, which started it all, and you frown.

"She works in the private sector in Kyoto, just this morning she arrived home to-... just take me to her.”

Draken and Mikey share a look and it's like they're having an internal conversation. You see it in the way they look at each other, and finally reaching a secret agreement, they both nod.

The tall blonde rubs the back of his neck and the short one cracks his knuckles before saying.

“Fine, kitten.” Mikey shares, a sullen grimace on his face is soon replaced by a playful grin, “…let's meet the sister-in-law.”

COMING SOON PART 10....

⭕️ In my PATREON you will find NSFW art of this story and lots of NSFW content from Tokyo Rev and other popular anime, exclusive smut fanfiction and more.

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sugar-omi · 8 months ago

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OMFG DUDE I was thinking abt coves dick again (as one does 🤭) and just realized w the dick size math that cove prolly bought normal condoms before yall went ‘all the way’ bc he didn’t kno he was huge (like u said in that one ramble like “move ur arm” “that’s not my arm”)

so when yall actually get into it and he tries to put it on u just have an awkward moment where he’s like

“it’s too small🧍‍♂️”

and now he’s apologizing for ‘ruining’ ur ‘real’ first time together and ur torn between comforting him that he didn’t ruin shit and laughing bc usually when guys say that it’s a fucking lie but he’s actually so deadass and u can see it the way the rubber doesn’t even accommodate his tip 😭💀

then u gotta tell him it’s okay to hold off until yall get bigger condoms or ur okay going raw if he is 🤭🤭🤭

-🗑️

ARGHH YOU ARE NOT HELPING MY ACCIDENTAL CREAMPIE BRAINROT. "the way the rubber doesnt even accommodate his tip" ohhh god biting my lips off my face rn. i can't fucking....

he would be too scared to go raw, especially first time. he knows that's a demon he's not ready to face (if you ask, he'll say he worried about any accidental children. but deep, deep in his mind. he knows something will, and does, click when you do it raw and he cums in you the first time...)

mmm, there's a few different ways to go with this...

because I can see cove waiting, im sure he does. he does wait, he wants things to be perfect (as perfect as 2 virgins fucking for the first time can be) and for you guys to avoid any unwanted scares or accidents.

but I also love the thought of him being impatient..

he buys the "right" condoms the second time around, and it doesn't look exactly right... but it's definitely not as small as last time...

decides to go with it after a bit of inner turmoil... "..maybe it's meant to fit that way? I thought it was supposed to go all the way to the base, though. its a bit tight, too... fuck, it'd be way too embarrassing to get the size wrong again. not that y/n would bully me about it or something, but... argh, I really want this to be perfect too. and I wanna go all the way with her..."

or even if he buys the right size, perhaps doesn't realize, or chooses the thin condoms since that's what was left. doesn't realize how different the thin ones are, especially of they're the ultra thin.

eitherway, all~~ circles back to right now. he's sinked into you, and he is gentle, he wants your first time to be romantic after all. but as he gets closer n closer to the edge, he gets a bit excited, his hips thrusting deeply into you.. all he can think about is how much he loves you, your pretty sounds, your body pressed against his, and the tight heat of your cunt.

doesn't realize when it breaks, not really anyway. gasps and moans because fuck you feel so hot inside, so wet and perfect... too far gone to think about the sudden change in sensation. and when he finishes, he definitely doesn't think about it. too lost in the feeling of his cum filling up the "condom" and your walls tightening around him as you finish too.

also love the thought that regardless of if he buys the right size or the thin, or if he remembers to pinch the tip of the rubber, all that sweet stuff.. he still ends up cumming inside you. not noticing if he teared the rubber in his hurry to be inside you already (blame teenage hormones, it's not his fault yeah 🙏)

of course not blowing his full load inside you, but i like to think that he cums so much, its really a miracle he doesn't break the rubbers from that amount alone... either way it's gonna leak out, n even just that little bit..

but regardless of how it happens, once he gets past the initial stress of it all n you get past the scare. his mind is totally filled with thoughts of actually coming inside you..

n even his dreams are filled with the image of your cunt all twitchy and wet with fluids n a bit puffy from all the fucking, n having earlier ate you out in the dream, n his fat load of cum leaking out of your cunt...

can't look you in the eye. he's totally ruined... probably can't look his parents in the eye either since he promised to be responsible, but now he's dreaming and fantasizing of doing otherwise..

#olba #cove holden x reader #smut #cove holden smut

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lilislegacy · 10 months ago

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What kinda caught my eye about the stable scene is when Annabeth tells them they came down there to talk and fell asleep Percy says they kissed “a few times” and Annabeth goes “not helping” which kinda implies that they may have (at the very least) kissed a few more times in addition to the two kisses at the stables written in the previous chapter. And also the grunt-whimper in BoO kinda suggests a level of maturity in terms of their physical relationship. Just my two cents :)

thank you for the ask!

ah yes, the notorious grunt-whimper. LOL

but yeah, i can see that! i don’t think it’s unreasonable to say that percy and annabeth, in the 4 months they were dating before his abduction, probably got up to some fairly heavy kissing and petting (which provides a basis for the grunt whimper lol.) possibly more, but im not going to take a stance on that, since i don’t really have a strong belief either way.

now, for the stables scene. honestly, deep down, i really don’t think anything crazy happened. i do definitely agree that the kissing was longer and more intense than rick was allowed to show. that’s what i think he was hinting at when he said “a good, proper kiss without anyone watching.” (maybe not that kiss in particular, but the general idea). however, i don’t think that was the time or place for anything too serious to happen, especially for the first time.

i can see where people are coming from though, thinking more happened. i’ve gone back and forth a lot, tbh. they were just reunited after a very hard separation, they know they could die and human existence could end within weeks, and on top of it they’re very in love, with teenage hormones on top of that. i don’t think people are being weird or wrong or unreasonable by suggesting more happened. in real life, its completely plausible. and if rick ever wanted to imply that they had been fully intimate, that was the time. but the thing is, i think if rick really wanted to imply that, he would have been less clear about exactly what happened. he would have left it more open ended and fade-to-black, you know?

so i think there was probably some intense kissing, maybe some light petting, but then they just cuddled and enjoyed the intimacy of being in each other’s arms. it was an uncertain time and they were scared, so i think they just needed to hold each other, more than anything. but i completely understand why people think more happened. and even though deep down, i don’t think that’s what rick was implying, i think it’s a plausible theory and - *looking at commenters and rebloggers* - people should not hate on others for believing either way.

#other opinions welcome!#be nice everyone #we all love percabeth #we’re all on the same team #percy jackson #annabeth chase #percabeth #heroes of olympus #mark of athena #stables scene #percy jackson and the olympians #pjo

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haruhey · 1 year ago

Text

Wish I Never Met You

check out my masterlist!

Word count: 4k

Fluff | Angst | Thank you @weretheones and @normanplusdaryl for betaing <3

You’re part of Daryl’s past, but you could also be his future.

A bad day leads the two of you to each other.

Whoever said it’s better to love and lose Never loved and lost you

Daryl barely made it through sophomore year.

In all honesty, he was impressed he even got to junior year. When Merle left at the tail end of spring, he - in all of his younger brother naïveté - thought he would come back before the semester ended, taking him from the dump they called a house and from that asshole they had the unfortunate pleasure of calling their old man.

But July came and went, then August, and by the time the new school year rolled around, Daryl stopped waiting for him - just shouldered his backpack and went to school because where the fuck else was he supposed to go?

He gave the whole school thing two weeks. It was enough time to mark off attendance - to lay low before he traded his backpack for his crossbow and started hunting for that weird butcher shop three blocks down to make some money - and he had intended on following it.

Intended, being the right word, because the plan went to shit the second Mr. American History started pairing people up for those dumb, mandatory, biweekly collaborative projects.

Intended, because it just had to be you he was paired with, didn't it? His stupid classroom crush he tried so hard to stop thinking about?

He remembers seeing you for the first time in some math class in sophomore year, and he’d, in his hormone-ruled, bored-out-of-his-mind teenage brain, spent the better half of the period just looking at you. He never worked up the courage to say anything about it to anyone, but you were the prettiest thing he’d seen in his 16 years on Earth, and he hated the way you made his hands all clammy.

Even years later, he looks back on the months he spent being your friend, and he still feels that crushingly familiar clench of his chest.

Maybe it wormed its way almost permanently into him those weeks he first sat next to you in American History. It was a compulory course and both you and he hated it. The teacher - Durand, but Daryl took to calling him Dickhead and Deranged just to see which would make you roll your eyes the hardest - was a notorious douchebag, round glasses over a nose that was entirely too big to stay on his face and three strands of gray hair that seemed to be holding onto his head by spite alone.

He never seemed to take Daryl seriously, even though Daryl knew more than double the amount of history you did. You could pick his brain for hours about the pirates and the Sumerians and the Cherokee and their legends, and he’d let you, despite the glare that marked over his face for anyone else.

In exchange, you let him pick your brain, too. Over the piece of apple pie the two of you would share on the rare occasion you’d both scraped together enough to figure it would be worth buying, he asked about your future. He tried picturing himself with you through it all despite knowing there was nothing for him outside of this shithole town, and he listened to you talk.

He could listen to you talk for hours.

You had big dreams, considering you came from the same place he did, but he had faith you could do it. He knew you could, and even looped his pinky with yours, your thumb pressed up against his while he promised to make it to graduation. He had to watch you toss your cap and flip the bird at 4 years of hell, didn’t he?

But then winter came, and with the Christmas break rounding the corner, Merle came back too, peeling into the dirt road in front of the Dixon dump and taking Daryl along with him. You remember coming back when the second semester started, the same room that had once been used for History now a Government class, and you had hoped to suffer through it together.

You made it through one school week until you’d started asking around.

Nobody got themselves involved with the Dixons - with their surly tempers and their permanent scowls, but you’d gotten into the habit of ignoring those words when you were with Daryl - so when no answers turned up, you weren’t really surprised.

You figured he must have finally gotten his out from his old man.

It was only at graduation that you’d found out what happened to him, overhearing one of the principals talking about how both of Will Dixon’s sons had run away from home and how he’d drunkenly bragged about finally beating sense into them, and, though you knew it was selfish, as the ceremony ticked on, you still hoped Daryl would come back in time to watch your cap toss.

He never did.

When he finally did come back to Georgia, it was a little over a full year later. The old lady that ran the diner the two of you hung around after school had told him that you got a scholarship offer in May - some bigshot school out west - and that you’d packed your bags and left in August.

You weren’t set to come back until the year ended in April, and he wasn’t planning on staying.

He wasn’t planning on making staying anywhere a habit, and, in the blink of an eye, twenty years passed.

A second blink and the world fell.

Everything changed so quickly that it truly did feel like an instant as minuscule as a blink - the dinosaurs had the meteor, and life before them had the ice age - and he couldn’t help but wonder if this was just a breath before a new age flooded in.

It seems like everything he thought about was about the future. Some of it he would have considered trivial before - when the next meal would come, when the next time he’s going to fill his canteen is and where the next source of freshwater is - but, in this blip of time, he hesitates to call it that.

Sometimes, when he went out on his bike or shouldered his crossbow and slipped his knives into his holsters, he thought about how Li’l Asskicker and Carl would grow up - how they would never really get to be kids in the same way Rick probably wanted them to be - and almost nothing he did felt trivial anymore.

It scared him, he guesses - how much he cared about those kids and how much everyone else did, too.

He wished someone cared about him like that when he was younger.

It was good, though, this pressure. Daryl was never really one to half-ass anything in the first place, but with the intake of Woodbury and the Council’s decision to start bringing people in, there was a new drive to care. It rippled through the prison, and he liked it, being a part of something bigger than himself.

He felt like someone new.

Someone that mattered - that did good - instead of being some asshole with a bigger asshole for a brother.

At least, he did until he saw you.

Two weeks after taking in the people of Woodbury - with one week spent out recruiting and another spent in the infirmary because they’d met some less than friendly people who definitely did not fit the recruitment criteria - he saw you from around the corner, an all too familiar face helping Carol with meal prep in the courtyard.

He didn’t eat lunch that day, and to say he avoided you was an understatement.

There was something about you that brought back feelings he would have rather left in the past. You reminded him of when he was a teenager, stuck in his shitty hometown with his piece of shit old man and no way out. But at the same time, you reminded him of those nights spent down at the creek, skipping stones and staring at the stars, that comforting lack of second-guessing because he knew he was, for the first time in his life, in the company of someone who actually wanted to spend time with him.

You reminded him of that diner with the warm apple pie, and he never could forget the first time his heart ever beat against his ribs like it was too big for his chest.

But, most of all, you reminded him of first love and his broken promise - of a future he could never have had.

Daryl hated it, being confronted with his past like that.

So yeah, maybe he did revert back to his old ways of hiding and just trying not to think about his problems, and yeah, maybe he did take one too many runs back to back so he wouldn’t have to keep fighting the urge to look for you despite simultaneously being scared shitless at the thought of talking to you, but it was successful in staying away from you, and that’s all he cared about.

Or, well, he thought it was.

Because, though it’s been nearly two decades since you’d thought about high school - with it long since becoming college, and college into adulthood - it’s crossed your mind more than you’d liked to admit lately. It’s an odd feeling, an ill-fitting nostalgia creeping through the holes of your blanket-covered cell bars, but it was oddly comforting. You never thought you’d ever think of that place as comforting, but maybe it wasn’t high school that you found yourself chasing in the dead of night.

It was him.

Daryl never really knew how popular he was - here, and back then, when those minutes before and after gym class divulged into shushed remarks about his looks and half-serious confessions of crushes muttered to the secrecy of the changeroom’s four walls - but you did. You were always on the other side of it, silent in your agreement.

Woodbury - or, well, ex-Woodbury - was no different.

He’s a far cry from that scrawny little kid you split your lunch with all those years ago, but there's still the linger of boyish handsomeness to him that made your cheeks heat when you thought about him too long. There was no mistaking him for anyone else, but that subdued, ultraviolet warmth you’d grown familiar with was gone from his eyes.

He’s not seventeen anymore, flipping his uncut hair from his face as he taught you how to skip stones and catch fireflies, but you wanted to talk to him all the same. There’s not much left from the old world - let alone much that you could have considered good, or wanted to remember - but he’s one of the few things you’d cared enough about to keep safe from the pulling tide that faded your memories.

He made that shitty town more bearable, even if it was for those few months. Gritting your teeth and enduring had become tiring until he’d grimaced at that first History Inquiry project and made you laugh with the annoyed upturn of his lip.

You’d planned on thanking him at graduation, but he’d left months before then.

You’d planned on a lot of things to be frank, but there’s no reason to linger in the past when now is a shell of what then was.

There’s even less of a reason when now feels heavier than then ever was.

Today would have marked ten days without incident, a first foray into the monumental double digits until the sun had set behind the return of the run crew’s RV and Beth was forced to flip the number back to zero.

It’s been four hours since they came back - a quarter of the group gone from the unfriendlies they’d met, another dealing with the aftermaths of the encounter and one more made up from those the crew’s recruited - and it’s the first time in those four hours that you’ve left the dingy wing of the infirmary.

You didn’t hate it in there. Far from it, actually, with Hershel and the others being half-decent company and seeing the work you did benefiting people, but the infirmary, especially on days when the crews rounded back, meant the stinging smell of blood and death lingered no matter how much you scrubbed and scrubbed and scrubbed. It stuck to every crevice on your body, and it permeated. Guilted you for not trying hard enough and not knowing enough.

On days like this, everywhere you went seemed too small and too unforgiving, and you’re not sure if you can stand tossing and turning in your bunk. The night sky is a friendlier sight than your ceiling, and the view from the abandoned watchtower is a hell of a lot better than the tiny, barred-up window at the corner of your cell.

If you’re lucky enough, maybe sleep will steal you for a couple of hours before the sun comes up. At least enough to make it through the next day.

You have faith it will - you can already feel the first wave of exhaustion pull at your bones.

Taking a breath, you press your hands into your pockets after pushing the door to the Prison open and slipping out. Autumn is beginning to seep through the cracks of summer and the nights are starting to get colder, but your jacket should be enough until you climb up and find sanctuary in the sleeping bag you’d left there three days ago.

It doesn’t take long to reach the door - if you jig the knob to the right before twisting and skip the third step from the top, the trek upwards is close to silent - but when you open it, the creak yields, at first, an expletive before the annoyed voice tears through the quiet.

“I already told ya I ain’t talkin’ ‘bout-”

The volume of him makes you take a step back, the sound of a man making your body lock up for just a second before you recognize the mess of hair atop his head and the wings stitched on the back of his vest, and you make quick work getting to him, crossing the platform in a single stride.

“Daryl?”

And he’s quick to realize the person speaking to him isn’t Carol like he’d thought. Though he really really really hopes it’s not you, the familiarity of your voice leaves little room for speculation, even before he turns his head and - for the first time in a long time - really, really looks at you.

“Oh.”

His heart beats in his ears and locks his throat before he can muster up anything else to say, and for a second, you wonder if you should introduce yourself to him.

“Sorry, I, uh, wasn’t expectin’ no one to be here.”

But the knowing upturn of his eyebrows - his apology, and the way he scoots himself over to make room for you the same way he did in those library reading nooks - tells you you don’t need to, and your shoes slide against the concrete as you drop down to a sit.

He remembers you, too, the sweat of his hands too obvious with the fact, even though he wishes he didn’t.

He wishes there wasn’t a familiarity in the way you sidle your body against his, swinging your legs underneath the railing and over the balcony, and he wishes he couldn’t feel the heat coming off of you.

He wishes it didn’t wrap him up like the warm rays of sun, and he fights down a smile at the fact that you always were so bright. He wishes he didn’t remember you like that - glossed over in a blinding, yellow hue.

Daryl wishes he never remembered you like sunshine - he wishes he didn’t still.

Picking up the glass next to him - just to occupy himself and bide the time until his nervousness hopefully washes away into general apathy - he takes a sip before setting it down and taking a pull of the cigarette in his other hand.

The smoke is slow to fill his lungs, but he welcomes it anyways, holding it there as the nicotine-drawn buzz settles in his brain, and then he breathes it out, angling his head up and away from you.

You never liked it, the Malboros he’d swiped from his old man that he’d keep tucked in the smallest pocket of his worn-down backpack, but you’d told him one night, not unlike the one you’re both trying to find solace in right now, that you were scared of what his father might do if he found out.

Then you slipped in the obviousness of his health, just to break the tension of vulnerability, but it hit Daryl like a truck, the fact that he’d never had someone think about him like that before - like they actually cared.

“Heard your brain cells can rot if you do that.”

He raises an eyebrow at you only to be met with a small smile playing at your lips and the slightest bit of a sparkle in your eye, and the taste still lingering on his tongue reminds him of what he’s been doing. The glass is half full with the room-temperature whiskey he’d tried to make himself feel better with after stitching up his own wounds, and there’s ash from his smoking gathered beside one of the railing's poles, and despite the knowing you’re probably right, he sighs, waving your concern away.

“Ain’t worried. Don’t got a lotta them anyways.”

The cigarette between his fingers is lit still, and he takes another drag before the grayed end of it crumbles to the floor, fighting the upward tug of his cheeks at the sound of your amused huff and your quick response.

“That’s why you gotta take care of the ones you still have, Daryl.”

Scoffing, he tilts the edge of the glass towards you, holding it out for you until you take it from him, and he tries not to think about how the tips of his fingers burn when they brush up against yours. It’s not as sweet, the innocence of a teenage crush long since faded into the dull pang of expired love and loss, but it rushes through him all the same.

He would have offered you a cigarette, too, but you’ve never been one to pick up habits that bad.

A comfortable silence falls over the two of you then, the sky offering a serenity the two of you are less than strangers to, and you wince from the liquor when you finally take a sip. It’s nothing like the moonshine he’d smuggled from his dad’s stash - it went down a hell of a lot smoother than you remember that shit going - but your tolerance has taken a nosedive since weekends unwinding and inter-departmental parties had ended.

Besides, the only places you could get alcohol back in Woodbury were way above your paygrade.

Placing the cup back onto the concrete, you steal a glance at Daryl, spending just a second studying the curve of his nose and the jut of his cheekbone. He’s more handsome than he’s ever been, and you can feel the heat rush up your neck before you blink away the thought.

Get a hold of yourself.

But you can’t, not when he’s so close, and you’re not sure if it’s wholly unselfish, what makes you drop your eyes down from his face, but you do, and you realize why he was so on edge when he heard the door open.

He’s fidgeting. Ever since he put out his cigarette, he’s restless and can’t quite figure out what to do with his hands in the same way he was when you’d asked him why he never wanted to go home back in the school library, and it sends you back, too, a familiar pit growing in your stomach. It’s like he’s that kid again, scared of telling you - or, well, people - things that hurt because his stupid brother and dad drilled into him that he’s less of a man for even feeling hurt in the first place, and it’s equal parts infuriating and concerning.

You can tell that the gears are turning in your head as you try to piece him together; a run crew came back just today, and you haven't seen him in a little while. It doesn’t take a genius to make the connection - especially with everyone’s propensity to talk about how Daryl brought them in - and though you might regret it, you decide to pry.

Not pry, just ask.

Conversation used to flow so easily between the two of you. Were you naïve to hope it would again?

“Bad day?”

It’s small, your voice, teetering in the air with its uncertainty, but Daryl doesn’t seem to notice. Instead, he glances down at the space between you, wrapping his fingers around the highball before meeting your gaze, and he bites the inside of his cheek, weighing the option of telling you or not.

“Jus’ tired is all.”

And though he hesitates those first few words, your eyes are so kind - so genuinely caring - that he can’t stop himself from saying more.

That was what he was scared of.

Why hasn’t he let you go?

“Sick’a fuckin’ losin’ people.”

The frustration when he speaks is palpable, and you’re not sure if it’s bravery or stupidity that makes you move - maybe it’s both, culminating in your own desire that someone would finally see through your crippling bravado and offer you a hug or something - but your hand snakes out to grab his before you even think, shaking it slightly in the strength of your squeeze.

Then he freezes, and for a second, you think you must have overstepped - that he’s going to push you away and yell at you and leave - but he doesn’t. He just takes a breath, the heft of it rising his shoulders then dropping it as he squeezes your hand back harder, a silent thank you in the press of his fingers against yours.

But still, he lets go, afraid the warmth in his chest might make him do something he regrets, and you chew at the dried skin of your lip, thinking about the right thing to say.

Fuck, you could never navigate things like this - it got better as you got older, sure, but words always seemed to fall short when it came to you and him - and when you finally settle on something, half of you wonders if it was just because you thought it better than nothing.

“I feel you.”

Because what else are you supposed to say? That it’s going to be alright and that he shouldn’t blame himself because it's so blatant he is? It’s thin ice you’re walking on, the fear of sounding patronizing drowning out the spark of hope you want to light him with, because you remember the man he was. He’s never had anyone fighting in his corner, and you’re not callow enough to think he thinks of you as something - someone - different.

But he does. He does think of you as someone different, and he wants to say more, but he doesn't know where he stands with you, or with himself. If he says what he’s thinking - that he feels like it is his fault and that he’s not sure if he could ever stop feeling like that. That he’s scared shitless and like it’s some big joke that people actually look up to him for things - wouldn’t that make it feel too real?

So he doesn’t. He just tips the lip of the glass against his and takes another sip to make sure his mouth is occupied, staring down at the bottom ridge of it until you speak again, and he’s helpless to do anything but look at you.

“At least it’s beautiful out tonight.”

He’s sent back to twenty years ago then - the scrawny redneck you’d somehow deemed good enough to be your friend forcing his old habits back to the him of the present - and he can’t help the squeaked little noise of a response. Words have always been hard for him, too. They’re hard for him to think of and even harder for him to form, and it’s made worse by the fact it’s almost like he’s back at 16, convinced that you’re too pretty to talk to.

“Yeah.”

And though you hear his hum of agreement, he never looks away from you, admiring the curve of your familiar smile and the rise of your cheekbones.

The lurch of his heart comes back then - the same beat against his ribs that he hated all those decades ago - and it’s stark then, the realization you’ve never really left him.

“Ain’t never seen nothin’ like it.”

Pressing his lip to the edge of the glass once more, he welcomes the burn of whiskey when you smile at the moonlit horizon, and he watches as you lean your chin against your arms.

You’re beautiful - more beautiful than all the colours in the star-speckled sky - and he could stare for hours.

#haruwrites #daryldixon #daryl dixon x reader #daryl dixon #the walking dead #daryl dixon fanfiction #daryl dixon oneshot #daryl dixon imagine #daryl dixon angst #the walking dead fanfiction #the walking dead daryl dixon #daryl dixon x you #the walking dead oneshot #twd

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makncheese12 · 2 years ago

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Omg

Fallen Angel R x Wednesday and she sees R literally fall from the sky

That’s actually a good idea omg.

Masterlist

A/N: I actually like this omg(bare with me English is not my first language🥲 I’m getting help from my friend to edit it)

Warnings: my writing, slight language, falling

Wednesday Addams x fallen!angel Reader

High risk

“Welcome to the quad!” Wednesday’s blonde new roommate stares, arms open as they step outside.

“It’s a pentagon.” The brunette states matter-of-factly as she looks through the open area of students.

The area full of hormonal teenagers only souring her mood further as some notice her presence and stare in interest as they both step out.

Enid rolls her eyes before turning to the girl. “The whole snarky, goth girl thing might have worked at normie school, but here things are different.” The blonde says with a smile before turning to walk.

“Let me give you a wiki on Nevermore’s social scene.” Wednesday huffs out, keeping her face straight.

“I’m not interested in participating in tribal adolescent cliches.” She replies following after the girl. “Well, then use it to fill your obviously bottomless pit of disdain.”

“There are many flavors of outcast here, but the four main cliques are the Fangs, Furs, Stoners and Scales.” Enid continues as they both continue down the turning hall way.

“Those are the Fangs, AKA vampires.” She gestures to a table full of pale students with sunglasses on, some drinking out of small bags full of red liquid.

They turn their heads at the mention of vampire, a few hissing quietly making Wednesday subtly cringe back at the horrible attempt of a threat.

“Some of them have literally been here for decades.” She finishes making some smirk and nudge at a girl in the middle who rolls her eyes.

“That bunch of knuckle heads are the Furs, AKA werewolves. Like me!” A series out howls are let out at the mention of their name. One jumping on the table in the process.

The boy then jumps off the table and pushes his friend playfully.

Wednesday watches the boy catch himself from falling and let out a loud laugh before he pushes his friend back making him stumble into a nearby table where you sat. The table full of crows on top as you pull crumbs out of a small brown paper bag, dark wings sprawled out as you do so. He slightly trips over your wings and your body stiffens up

A loud hiss like snarl is heard making the boy turn quickly to defend himself from its source.

“And that is Y/N L/N,” the blonde says watching you stand quickly. “What the hell! Are you trying to break some bones?” You ask, teeth bared at the bushy haired boy who too lets out his own growl.

“Maybe you should pick them up from off the floor.” He says baring his teeth at you. “Or maybe you should just watch where you step.” You say angrily, practically hissing at the boy making some of your feathers fluff around.

“I wouldn’t need to watch my step if you kept them where they belong.” He says in an insulting tone which only causes the crows around you to flap their wings and caw around.

Wednesday watched with amusement as you both continued your argument. “Y/N’s clique is.. well, her own. She’s the only one of her kind here, she does tend to hover around the scales though.” The blonde mumbles watching as you step closer toward the boy.

He also takes a step forward, coming nose to nose with you as some of his pack members step up while the others decide to stay down.

At least some of them know better than most not to get in the way of a former angel.

“Back off.” You growl, eyes quite literally darkening to a darker shade of crimson as you glare up at him. His features are a mix of anger and fear as he stares down at you, not knowing what to do or say next at your angry state.

“Why don’t you just go back to hell, it’s where you clearly belong.” He throws another insult making your eyes narrow and dark fist clench.

“Hell is where your going, I’ll make sure of it once I’m done with you.” You say before a gasp from enid could be heard.

Everyone knew angels kept their promises, even if they were banished to the depths of hell.

You were playing a dangerous game, werewolf against angel would leave most of the area destroyed if you decided to play around with him before decided to take the victory.

The silent threat in your eyes is enough to send the group of wolves gathered behind him back to their table, tails between their legs by the sudden change of atmosphere and sudden eerie quietness the crows have.

The boy stares down at you, searching for something even he didn’t know before rolling his eyes and turning on his heels. “I’m starting to see why they kicked you out of heaven.” He throws one last insult before going back to his table, quickening his pace at the sound of your hiss.

Werewolves, always needed to last word or hit. It made your eye twitch and your clenched hand to puncture your palm, drawing a small amount of blood.

Your eyes then suddenly look around the quad, watching as the eyes that were once on you snap away at the sudden eye contact.

Your eyes then land on Wednesday, noticing the way she doesn’t flinch nor look away. Just simply stare back.

You stare for another moment, eyes scanning her over before they slowly go back to their normal color and your feathers lay down from their frenzied state.

“Y/N L/N!” A voice booms through the quad making you flinch and roll your eyes before they land on a teacher in the main doorway. “My classroom, now.” He calls before turning around.

You scoff before marching off after him, the pathway already clearing as students move out of the way.

“She’s not that bad,” Wednesday hears enid says making her eyes snap from the door way to the blonde. “She’s actually really cool once you meet her non-angry side.” She says, a smile on her face at the memories you two had shared.

Wednesday doesn’t react as she continues her way through the hall, the blonde quickly on her heels as she does so.

“Im assuming scales are sirens?” She asks, eager to get this whole interaction over with.

————

The sound of howls echo through the school hallways and any surrounding area keeping most of Nevermore’s residents awake.

Some watching their favorite shows, others having friends over, hell they were even walking around at the late hour. Anything to drown out the consistent sound.

You scowl at the sound yourself and push your wings to flap harder as the air pressure begins to drop making your lungs burn, craving the regular air that it was so used to.

You take another deep breath before passing the cloud line.

You wish you could say you were used to it but that’d just be a lie. The only reason the burn grew was because you were going higher, closer to the place you were specifically locked out of.

It was like a barrier, or rather a cage made by god himself to keep you inside and trapped for eternity.

You wish you could break the barrier and see what it was like. What the feeling would be like in your lungs when you got inside. Would you be able to breath or would your lungs explode like any normal human?

You wished you could find out.

Not that you didn’t try, you did. And you passed out in the process, you were forced to regenerate in hell for a few years after.

Once the burning truly began to hurt you stop, flapping your wings to keep you in your position. The sound of the howls now faded into the back ground.

You look down to see Nevermore through the dense clouds, light barely breaking through them as they pass.

You let out a sigh of relief, the cool air whipping across your face enough to feel like you had just been slapped.

A feeling you liked and were fond of.

It showed the moments before you got to feel the pure bliss of the air blowing past your wings at an alarming rate.

It’s what you craved.

Right before you could let go, you heard another sound.

It was almost louder than the manically barks and howls running through the woods, it sounded far better too.

You crane your ears a little more to hear it better.

Music. You had decided. The sound of different chords getting louder then softer then louder again as it continued on through the song.

It piqued your interest. Yes there were plenty of musically instrument players around the large school but none were quite that good let alone played the Cello.

After making the decision to find the owner, you allow your wings to stop before leaning your head back with a smile on your face.

Your wings — now fully relaxed — float above your body, flapping around mindlessly as the wind blows past you. Clothes ruffling about, hair coming undone and flowing all over the place.

It was peaceful, knowing you would be able to catch yourself and avoid your demise. You could do it all day and never falter.

Wednesday watches thing turn to the last page, he strikes becoming stronger. Encouraged by the thought of finished strong when something catches her eye in the moon and faint light from the school.

She doesn’t allow herself to falter as she finish the piece before looking into the sky.

She sees a figure, falling at an alarming rate from high in the sky. Large wing flying around before straightening out and twisted their owner through the air

They dive into the tree line before she could see anymore and she could only assume who it was. The angry bird she had yet to meet throughout her day in Nevermore, never even getting a glimpse of them.

What a strange sight to see. Not everyone can just fly up and allow themselves to fall. Who in their right mind would?

She would if she could, it seemed like a enjoyable thing to do.

She lets out a sigh before closing her eyes and breathing in the cool air and howling once again echoes through the school once again.

Her brows crease at the noise, it was worse than Enid’s loud pop music she has yet to get used to. Her grip on her Cello tightens slightly when another round of bowls rang through the air.

This is where she found her peace, or was at least before she stopped and the wolves could be heard again.

When she had to clear her mind she would play her Cello, the lines and chords being the only thing on her mind.

After todays events, it’s what she needed.

She lets out another breath when the air suddenly picks up making her shiver very slightly, the cold feeling uncomfortable yet bearable.

The sudden movement of paper and tapping causes Wednesday’s eyes to snap open to be met with a still dark figure hunched over and pirched on her dorm patio railing.

Blood colored eyes piercing into her own.

It was like two Gargoyles staring at each other, both unmoving and unblinking. The other refusing to falter while waiting for the other to.

She took the chance to look at your features more clearly up close in her peripheral view.

Your wings black as night yet sprinkled with white fading feather like stars, blackened skin leading up your forearm before fading into the natural skin color, skin littered with scars in different areas. Hair, wild and untamed while your clothes did the same.

She would have kept inspecting if it weren’t for Thing who slowly crawls from behind her music holder.

You’re eyes snap to him and he almost shrinks back behind it.

“What is that?” You ask, head tilting slightly. The resemblance to a bird being quite exact, Wednesday thought to herself as her eyes shifted between you and Thing.

“That is Thing.” She says, taking offense for him as he sits on her nub and waves.

Your eyes open slightly more as you wave back, clawed fingers wiggling at the him. Your eyes quickly go to a lighter shade of red in the process.

“Cool,” you say watching him jump off and climb up the railing.

You had never seen anything like him, in all your years you had seen every creature created yet nothing like him.

You wondered if the devil himself was the one who created him instead of god.

“A pleasure to meet you, Thing.” You say, reaching out with an open palm. He inspects your hand for a moment, hesitating when seeing your long nails making you chuckle.

You force your nails into the flat ones that humans have and he jumps slightly.

He taps around excitedly turning to Wednesdays then back to you, taking your hand firmly making you laugh.

“Quite the handshake you’ve got.” You say and him tap, unknown to what he was saying before you look back to Wednesday.

“This isn’t your dorm.” She tells you as if it weren’t obvious with the large window to Ophelia hall.

“I know,” you say throwing your legs over the side and allowing yourself to plop down on the railing. “I was just taking a little stroll when I heard you playing.”

“If falling from the sky and almost to your demise is consider a ‘little stroll’ I think I would enjoy that.” Wednesday says, your smile grows giving her the sight of your top fangs.

“Trust me, you would. So,” You start before glancing up to their large window. “The loud and open girl roomed with the new dark and mysterious girl, how unfortunate.” You say, referring to Enid who forced her way into being friends with you.

“Yes it’s insulting, really.” She replies crossing her arms. “The colors burn my eyes, I sometime wish to gauge them out with a spoon every time I enter our room.” She says, remembering how only hours ago she almost strangled the girl and destroyed her music.

You chuckle lightly before looking to your right to see Thing, poking at one of your wings. “I see it now, ‘fallen angel’.” She says referring to what she had witnessed a few moments ago.

“Who would have thought being damned by god himself would be so fun.” You laugh at the irony of the situation, being a fallen angel and enjoying the feeling of falling from the sky.

“You must have done something horrible to do so.” She says and your smile fades.

Your face contorts, subtly. From anger and then to sadness. You didn’t know how to feel about your odd situation.

Your father was the one to do something, you were just a tag along.

“Perhaps,” your head tilts up toward the sky allowing the moon the kiss your skin. “Or maybe someone did it before I could.”

You mumble the last part but Wednesday catches it along with the sadness in your voice as a crow lands next to you.

“Caw!” It screams out making your head look down once again, your smile returning in process.

He perched next to you , head tilting almost upside down as you pull out something wrapped in a brown bag.

“Why were you falling from the sky?” She asks, the question blunt yet not blunt at the same time.

You pull out a lump of bread before breaking a small piece off and hand it to the Crow. He quickly snatches it before jumping a few feet away to eat it.

You chuckle at the sight before humming in response to her question. “I just like a little high risk.” You reply and her heart skips a beat for a moment, too quick for her to question yet doesn’t go unnoticed.

“You must not be fully sane then.” She says and you snort. “You don’t seem like you are either, nor your family from what I’ve heard.” You state before your face falls. “No offense.” You apologize with a small grimace at your own comment.

“None taken, I like to think that a compliment.” If your smile could grow even more than before, it definitely did just now.

You look back down at the bird who jumps back toward you, hopping up and down in excitement. Your eyebrows knit together for a moment, clearly deep in thought before you speak up again.

“I never caught your name.” You say as you take your index and middle finger and rub it down the back of the crow.

“Me or the bird?” She asks seriously making you bark out a laugh. “Crow.” You correct her before he could grow loud in offense by being called a bird. “But you, this is Atticus.” You say and the crow caws out multiple times before settling down again.

“Wednesday.” She says and you nod, humming to yourself before looking toward her away. “How unique for a unique person.” You say, head tilting like the crow next to you.

Wednesday suddenly feels her heart racing at the the sight. Strange.

“I don’t think I caught yours either.” She says watching as Thing and the bird come hand to face on the railing, inspecting each other.

“Y/N.” You say head tilting back once again to look at the sky. “It’s for some reason modern to the year.” You say, eyes full of question as you continue to stare up.

“Tell me, Wednesday,” your eyes once again meeting hers. “Have you ever met an angel?” You ask and she knits her eyebrows together.

“No.” She replies and you nod. “Good, their horrible creatures who should be damned to their own personal cages.” Your voice is suddenly tense and full of hatred as you look up again.

The question confused her, why would you ask that just out of the blue? The question was a random one but you also seemed to be with your sudden appearance.

Before she could ask what you meant the window opens and her bright roommate steps out.

“Oh, hi Y/N! What are you doing here? It’s not Thursday.” She questions as she quickly skips toward you in excitement. “And hello to you too, Atticus!”

The crow caws and hops closer, allowing the girl to scratch under his beak.

You smile at the reference to your weekly manicures the girl gives you. She insisted your long nails were too creepy without any polish and you agreed to allow her to paint them black.

“I was taking a stroll and met your new roommate here.” You tell her and your eyes travel to to Wednesday who continues to sit in her chair.

“Or did you just try and scare her like the rest?” Enid eyes you suspiciously and you raise your hands in defense.

“I would do no such thing.” You smile as the girl rolls her eyes. “You’d be shocked at how unfazed she was, I was sure I would get her.” You grumble, further proving the blondes point.

“I highly doubt that.” Wednesday mutters as she begins collecting her things. You chuckle, glancing toward the woods noticing the sudden silence.

“Well, sounds like your little furry mongrel friends have finally quieted down.” You state standing up in your spot, glaring towards the woods. “I think I’m gonna go up one more time before bed.”

“Okay, have a good night! Don’t fly too high.” She replies with much enthusiasm about your nightly routine and you smile. “I will. Goodnight,” your eyes then travel to Wednesday and you smile even bigger. “Goodnight, Wednesday.”

Her heart continues to race, the feeling very different from beating of fear. That she enjoyed, this feeling she did not.

Quick, angry sounding taps are heard next to you and you chuckle. “Goodnight to you too, Thing.” You laugh before leaning back and letting yourself fall.

Atticus caws a few times before following after you into the air.

A/N: definitely imagined this song while falling in your circumstance of being a fallen angel

#Wednesday Addams #Wednesday Addams x reader #fallen angel #Jenna Ortega #enid sinclair #x reader #Wednesday Addams imagine #nevermore academy #Jenna Ortega x reader #jenna ortega x you #Wednesday Addams x you

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josephquinnswhore · 2 years ago

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hello hello hello!! i hope you're having a wonderful day my dearest 💛

i have a dad pedro x pregnant wife reader request if you're taking them?

could you do where like reader is like almost ready to pop with their third child and their first maybe around 8 years old and their second is around 6 years old and reader and pedro finally agree on getting a house and they go house hunting. i'm a big sucker for imaging how it would be to have a family with this man and doing stuff like this with him.

pure fluff and happiness bc my depressed ass needs some happiness 💛💛

-much love my darling 💛💛

Settling In - pedro pascal x female reader

Summary: you and Pedro are hunting for your dream home before your third bundle of joy arrives.

Word Count: 1.7k

Content Warning: pregnancy, mentions of blood, bodily fluids, birth (not detailed.)

Note: I’m sorry this is short I’m sick and my brain hurts lol. Anyways I hope you love this, thank you so much for requesting!!

The grunt that leaves your lips as you roll around on the bed is involuntary, trying to escape the warmth urgently as your baby sits on your bladder, putting more pressure for you to get to the toilet. You ignore the pains in your body as you stand, waddling to the toilet just in time to not lose your bladder on the bathroom tiles.

You thoroughly wash your hands and wipe them on your fleecy pyjamas. A delicious smell wafts from down the hall, your mouth watering with saliva as your stomach grumbles with want. Your steps are heavy as you tread down the hallway, your body slightly rocking side to side as you waddle, your heavily pregnant stomach taking its toll on every inch of your body. Your eldest daughter Maria comes running toward you first, “morning mama, dads making us breakfast. Your favourite too.” You play with her hair as she hugs you, pushing a strand of dark brown hair behind her ear. “Oh did he? Isn’t that sweet.” She rushes to her spot at the table, screeching her chair as she waits patiently for her food. Your second daughter, Andie stays seated, you press a kiss to the top of her head as she swings her legs under the table as she groans in frustration, tired of waiting for her food. “Good morning baby.” She huffs, finally looking at you as Pedro comes over with plates full of food for the girls. “Hi mama.” Pedro serves the girls their food, not wanting to keeping them waiting a minute longer. He sets the rest of the food down for the two of you, stalking towards you with a grin on his face. “What’s got you in a good mood this morning?” You question with mock suspicion. “Can’t I just be happy to see my beautiful wife?” Your cheeks heat at his comment, rolling your eyes as you lean into him. “I’ll never get tired of hearing you say that.” He pulls away from the hug, pulling your designated seat away from the table so you can sit. As he sits you fill your plate of your favourite breakfast foods and some fresh fruit. “I do have good news to share baby, you got me.” He throws his hands up and you smile, watching him In encouragement to continue, “I think we’ve found a house. We can go and look today if you’re up for it. Make sure it’s everything you’ve dreamed of.” Your tears start filling with tears, hormones flowing through your body like a tidal wave. “Baby that’s incredible.” His grin widens, “the appointment is for 10:30 this morning. Once the girls are done eating I’ll get them ready, you sit and enjoy your breakfast.”

After 10 long minutes of ruffling through your wardrobe you finally find an outfit that you like, it accentuates your bump beautifully, matching your skin tone. You slip on a pair of vans, not bothering to be too formal today, thinking more about your comfort.

“You look incredible, do you know what?” You giggle and hide your face in your hands, after 10 years of being with Pedro he still had a way of making you feel like a teenager with a crush, “you only tell me a hundred times a day.” Pedro huffs shaking his head, “that’s not enough, make sure to scold me next time.” He jests. “The girls are strapped into the car, you ready to go?” You pat your pockets, phone, wallet, keys. “Good to go.” You confirm.

You try not to laugh as you see the girls dressed in mixed matched clothing, Pedro was never one for caring about kids dressing in super expensive clothing, nor did he care how they dress, he let them dress themselves most days unless it was ridiculously outrageous. Pedro opens the passenger door to his Audi for you, letting you hold his hand as you lower yourself into the leather seat. He presses a kiss to your hand before he shuts the door.

You had seen the house online, no price listed which you would assume means one thing; it’s expensive. The neighbourhood was filled with extravagant houses and perfectly mowed front yards, some with picket fences and gardens full of colourful flourishing flowers. The house had a sign out the front “for sale” in bold orange letters. It took your breath away momentarily, “holy shit.” Pedro only smiled as you watch in awe as he helps the girls out of their seats, opening the doors for them. “Wait here while I help mama out of the car, okay? Stay here.” The girls agreed in a unison of, “okay papa.” Pedro helps you out of the car, holding his hand above your head to make sure you don’t bump it on the door frame. A grunt leaves your lips as you stretch your spine, cracking in a few places before it settles again, earning a big kick from your baby.

“What a beautiful family we have here! You must be,” she checks her notepad for appointments, “Mr Pascal. Pleasure to meet you, I’m Donna.” Pedro nods his head, “this is my wife and our two daughters, Maria and Andie.” The middle age lady greets your daughters kindly, “hi Donna.” Your daughters greet, the ladies short blonde hair rested on the shoulder of her suit jacket. “Hi girls. Why don’t we get started and go inside and I can show you around!” “Perfect!” You cheer. As you walk through the front door you’re in the kitchen, the white granite bench accentuates the kitchen countertop. The kitchen was modern, stylish lights hanging from the ceiling illuminating a bright yellow light. “This kitchen was renovated by the last owners, first of many bonuses that come with the house!” You look around in awe, trying to take in the minute details and imagining yourself cooking meals for Pedro and the kids in this kitchen, smiling to yourself at the thought. “Now just around the corner we have the living room, a spacious area for your beautiful family! A fireplace was also added by previous owners, the perfect addition for the upcoming winter!” The lounge room was fully furnished, the room accentuated with light grey and whites. An artwork catches your eye on the wall, a familiar work “CENTREFOLD” by Kathryn Macnaughton. “The last owner had good taste in art.” Donna laughs, “the last owner painted this artwork.” You turn to her as your mouth gapes open, “wow, that’s incredible.”

The bedrooms are spacious, enough for the girls to have their own and baby when they get old enough. The mast bedroom is huge, the California King Bed sits proudly on its black bedframe, the room furnished and you wonder if it comes with the house. “Does the house come furnished?” Donna smiles widely as she shows you the ensuite bathroom. “It does come fully furnished! You can always discard of or replace the furniture if it’s not to your liking.” You and Pedro share a look “no, it’s perfect, you insist, inspecting the shower, already imagining you and Pedro showering your newborn together.

“Why don’t you go and show the girls the garden out back sweetheart?” The girls cheered at Pedro’s suggestion, “sure,” you gestured the girls out the back, “let’s go and have a look at the pretty flowers outside. See if we can find any butterflies.” The two girls take one hand each and drag you out the door which makes Pedro laugh. It’s beautiful outside, it’s cooling down through the day in transition for winter. The flowers are big and bold, full of nectar which attracts bumblebees and butterflies.

“Look mama a big butterfly!” Your eyes follow Andie’s finger, eyes finding the blue Monarch butterfly that lands on a yellow flower, sucking the nectar and fluttering away all in a matter of seconds. “Look he’s got friends!” Maria yells, running to chase the butterflies that wonder over the fence. “Aw they’re gone.” Maria sighs with disappointment in her voice, “it’s okay baby. We’ll see lots of butterflies if daddy wants this house.” Your hand rests on her head, running your fingers down her dark locks. “Are we going to live her mama?” You shrug, “it’s not up to me baby.”

“Actually, it’s entirely up to you. How do you like it?” Pedro’s voice makes you turn around, a small smile on your face as you see his red cheeks. “I love it baby. It just looks.. expensive.” Pedro frowns, the wrinkles in his face are deepening at his expression. His hand rests on your pregnant stomach, “this is for us, our family. If you want is, it’s ours.” You wipe the tears that collect on your lash line with a laugh, “making me emotional Pedrito. Yes I would love it here, the girls are having so much fun.” The sound of the girls laughter fills the air, the birds singing their songs accompany them. “I was hoping you would say that, because I already bought the house.” Pedro admits sheepishly. You wrap your arms around his neck, your bulging stomach creating a space between you, stopping you from being completely into him. “It’s perfect Pedro, I can’t wait for our baby to be here with us.” He kisses your lips sweetly, “I can’t wait for him to be here either.” You raise your eyebrows, “him?” He shrugs casually, “just got a feeling.”

“It’s a boy!” The midwife declares. Tears are falling down your cheeks as sobs fall through your lips, the small infant is placed on your chest, a beanie on his head and skin still coated in blood and fluid. His loud wailing cries settle as you wrap your arms around him, kissing him on the head. “You’re so perfect.” Pedro is kissing the skin of your sweaty shoulders as the midwife’s clean you up. “Oscar Jose Pascal. Welcome to the world.” Pedro is crying and you wrap him in a blanket, “do you want to hold him?” Pedro’s eyes are red from crying, “please, baby, please.” Pedro was shaking, you sit him down on the chair besides the bed, “take your shirt off, he needs skin to skin contact.” Pedro follows your instruction, holding his son to his chest, learning his head into Oscar’s. “God he’s so perfect. You did incredible baby, I’m so proud of you.” You place your hand on his thigh, rubbing it lovingly, “I can’t wait to get him home. The girls are gonna love him.” Pedro only hums in agreement as he intently listens to his soon coo at his touch. Your family was complete.

#pedro pascal #pedro pascal x reader #pedro x fem reader #husband Pedro pascal #dad Pedro pascal #fluff #pedro pascal fic

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scenesniper · 2 years ago

Text

☆ genos ; nsfw headcanons

pairing / genos x afab gn! reader

disclaimer / penetration & a bit angsty

word count / 879 words

draft from october that i never finished oops

⭒ genos is a virgin (obviously) and was certainly confused why you're even sexually attracted to a cyborg at the first place but nonetheless, he still loves you. 😔 he's never had the luxury of expressing himself as a hormonal teenager since his attention was set on getting revenge on the cyborg that took his family away from him.

⭒ but god, when he met you, everything changed. skipping the details but to say the least, he can finally explore that hormonal teenager experience he missed on.

⭒ sex with genos is very limited because again, he's part cyborg. man got nothing packing down there, i'm sorry to break the news. that doesn't mean he can't penetrate you with his metal fingers and give you oral with his tongue! in fact, he's EXTREMELY skilled despite having no prior experience.

⭒ in fact, he can't feel anything he touches. whenever he has his eyes on you, he has to watch your mannerisms closely. what part do you squirm in the most, what is the cause of your whimpers? because of this, he basically knows your entire body language. although he doesn't feel anything, it doesn't matter to him because he's a giver more than anything. he loves to please you.

⭒ his entire body is cold. his finger is bulky and thick, which can easily penetrate you. it happened between you two once, but i promise he's trying his best to be gentle with you! 😭

⭒ his finger movements are rhymtic, he's just absolutely fucking you senseless repeatedly. clutch onto his chest or hold onto his face while his finger is deep in you, he'll feel so embarrassed but yet proud of himself.

⭒ he loves it when you're taking charge. please treat him gently, not just because of the possible future repairs from you putting him out of service but also just because he wants to be taken care of for once.

⭒ completely malfunctions whenever he sees you strip in front of him. he absolutely heats up like a goddamn heater and you have to be like "where is that heat coming from?" (surprise, surprise, it's from your horny boyfriend).

⭒ one time however, one of his parts were to malfunction from overheating while having sex with you. he distracts you by this (EXTREMELY CONCERNING safey hazard) by flipping you over as he eats your face out, only to break the kiss when he's certain that specific part will be able to last a little longer.

⭒ very good with his mouth and when i say good, i mean GAHDAMN. it's just pure bliss, how else could you describe it. he's very gentle when it comes with you but just knows the right amount of force to have you wanting for him more.

⭒ for the sake of this scenario though, i will give him a tongue for all of you nasty bitches (i am nasty bitches) 🤝.

⭒ his tongue is very.. scratchy. its' texture is similar to that of sandpaper and a sponge meshed together. he's a natural kisser but whenever he includes his tongue.. his way of going is very.. interesting to say the least..! 😁

⭒ he literally just shoves his tongue down your throat and not like in a hot and heavy, sexy way but in a lord i feel my dinner coming up. the first time he tried to include his tongue, it's a literal "pause, nah nah we can't do this" moment. 😭

⭒ with oral though, he's heavenly when it comes with sucking your cunt and lapping your juices like a starved man. his tongue, as said before, is scratchy so your pussy will legit be so itchy but it's okay because it's genos.

⭒ he does loves it whenever you sit on his face. maybe you're hesitant at first but when he finally convinces you to do so, he's instantly on cloud 9 and holding you down while he laps away at your juices.

⭒ sex drive is unlimited because well, he's a cyborg. he's very attentive of you so when you're near your limit, he immediately stops whatever he is doing. he doesn't want you to push yourself and end up passing out, but is he okay with having you scream and writhing the entire time? why, yes.

⭒ aftercare will be genos running a cold bath for you. while you're soaking up, he'll begin cleaning up the remnants of the mess the two of you made.

⭒ nights like these are his favorite. he can watch your beautiful sleeping face with the shining moonlight upon your form. he learns that his anxiety disappears completely with just you by his side in these quiet nights. if it was any other day that he wasn't laying beside you, his mind will torment him with guilt just like every waking hour that he is aware.

⭒ and moments like these are his favorite, it is something that grounds genos down. something makes him feel a little bit human. he wonders what kind of feeling the satisfication gives you but genos doesn't have that luxury to ponder at that. the only pleasure he is given is your ecstasy. after all, he is only a cyborg and you are a human.

#genos #genos x reader #opm #opm x reader #one punch man #one punch man x reader #genos x reader smut #genos smut #genos smut hcs #genos smut headcanons #angst #genos x reader smut headcanons #genos x reader smut hcs #opm smut #one punch man smut

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yelenasdiary · 1 year ago

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I love sibling focs!! Maybe it’s the only child in me that feels the comfort in these anyways….

Can you do a reader x Kelly Foster one where we are her younger sister -but in our teens- and she wants us to starts helping out around the zoo with the animals but we’re not the biggest fan of it and would rather spend the day with our friends instead. If somehow or someway you can add in some angst that would be amazing but ends with fluff

I’m not the greatest at sending in ideas but something along this would be cool but feel free to change it up if you want!!

Arguments & Ugly Trees

Pairing: Kelly Foster x Younger Sibling! Reader

Summary: Kelly struggles to get you to help more around the zoo, especially around the holidays.

Warnings: Angst/Comfort, No Warnings | 1K

AC: Been so long since I wrote for Kelly! Enjoy x

Holiday Special Masterlist

"Come on! Get up!" Your older sister, Kelly, repeats herself as you feel the heavy blow from her throwing a throw pillow at you. "Go away!" You mumbled, your eyes barely opened wide enough to look at the time but a faint 5 told you it was way too early for you to be awake.

"You promised you'd help today, let's go! There's a lot to do before opening" Kelly reminds you. Of course you made the promise unintentionally just to get her off your back so you could hang out at the mall with your friends. Growing up on a zoo had its perks, as a child you loved it and grew close to the animals but as you grew older and into your teens, the zoo lost interest for you. Kelly knew this would happen eventually, she just wished she had a little more time before your teenage hormones kicked in and suddenly you couldn't stand to be around her anymore.

"Kelly! Go away!" You snapped once your older sister pulled the covers off you, exposing you to the coldness of an early morning. You heard her loudly sigh with disappointment before the loud slam of your door closing added to her anger. Within a few short seconds you were asleep once again while your sister picked up your slack around the zoo.

By 10am you were up, dressed and waiting on the porch of the small cottage you shared with Kelly. You had plans to meet your friends in town at 10:30 for the day, well you did.

"You might want to text your Uber and cancel" you heard Kelly's voice as she came walking up the path.

"Why would I do that? I have plans" you frowned.

"You haven't heard? There's a snowstorm coming. Everything is closed, you would've known sooner if you were up when I asked" she stopped in front of you, her hands on her hips as you rolled your eyes. "Go get changed into something a little more work friendly, it's all hands on deck. We've gotta make sure the animals are secure before the storm hits" she adds.

"Seriously?! This is bullshit!" You grumbled as you turned on your heels and stormed into the house to change. A sigh left Kelly's lips as she mentally prepared herself for the attitude, she knew you'd be giving her.

——

Fixing fence after fence with a loud sigh and yet another eye roll, Kelly couldn't take it anymore.

"What is your problem?" She snapped, throwing the hammer to the ground. "What? I'm doing what you asked!" You turned to her with a frown.

"I don't know what to do with you anymore, you're never happy to do anything around here and honestly, sometimes I think you even hate looking at me and I'm sorry that living on a zoo is so problematic for you but give me a god damn break for once! All the eye rolls, the sighs, the grumbles, it's getting old!" Your sister went on. Her sudden outburst took you by surprise, even reminding you as to why you began to lose interest in the zoo.

"I'm doing my best with what we have here! A little thank you doesn't hurt!" She went on, bringing your attention back to the argument. "J-just go back home, I don't need your help"

You could see the hurt in her eyes as she let them fall to the hammer on the ground, maybe you were being a selfish little brat and forgot just how much Kelly does for you but she also forgot something along the years.

"You care more about this zoo than me" you replied in a soft tone. Kelly instantly looked back at you, "why would you say that?" She asked. "Because it's true, you forgot that in your sister, not some other zoo hand that you can boss around. We never get time together anymore and when we did try to make plans, you bailed because something more important came up" you explained with honesty, letting all your built up emotions pour out. "Christmas is literally like two weeks way and we still haven't even put up the tree, it's just sitting in the living room in a box…Christmas used to be our thi-"

Your words were cut short as Kelly pulled you into her arms the moment she saw the tears pooling at your eyes. "Shhh, I know" she whispered as you wrapped your arms around her. She held you until your tears came to a stop, you pulled away and wiped your wet cheeks on the sleeve of your jacket. "Can we make a new rule?" Kelly asked, her hands still on your forearms.

"I need to help out more, I know" you replied.

"No" she shook her head, "promise me you'll talk to me instead of letting things bottle up like this? I'm not a mind reader you know" she added. You chuckled at her joke and nodded, "only if you promise to we can finally put the tree up" you raised a brow at her playfully.

"Let's get this job done and we'll call it a day, go inside and out the tree up" she smiled softly.

——

"It looks terrible!" You chucked before taking a much-needed sip of your hot chocolate as you watched Kelly put the star on top of the Christmas tree. The tree looked like a mess, fairy lights still slightly tangled up, the two of you too unbothered to make everything perfect.

"I think it's" Kelly paused as she stood back and took in the sight of the tree, "unique" she added chewing her bottom lip. "Let's just remember to turn the lights off before we go to bed, the last thing we need is the house burning down" she joked as she took a seat beside you on the sofa, reaching for her hot chocolate from the coffee table.

"So, tell me, should I be worried your dating yet?" She asked after sipping her drink. You playfully slapped her arm, "between you, school and the zoo, what makes you think I have time?"

Kelly smiled at you before resting her head on your shoulder while the two of you admired the ugly Christmas tree. "It'll always be just us kiddo, against everything" she spoke softly to assure you that you never lost your sister. Sometimes things go unsaid and you made a promise to yourself to never let distance grow between you both ever again.

#yelenasdiary asks #anon #fanfiction #kelly foster #kelly foster x reader #christmas

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puddingcatbeans · 2 years ago

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timkon; kon has a peculiar cuddling habit.

It takes Tim two months to notice. It's not his fault though—his team has always been very tactile, and they've made it their ongoing mission to cure Tim of his touch starvation. Kon is probably next on the list for touch-starved-ness, but he takes to cuddling like it's a challenge, and everyone knows how much Kon likes winning challenges.

So it's not unusual for Tim and Kon to be seen sitting practically on top of each other when they're hanging out at the Tower, at the farm, in Tim's apartment. Bart has started calling them "TimKon" for their buy-one-get-one package deal, and Cassie is still gloating about winning the betting pool for when they'd finally get together. Their lives are filled with violence and crises and teenage angst, they should get some points for choosing cuddling a coping mechanism instead of the myriad other methods their peers and mentors have chosen (cough Bruce and his adoption addiction cough).

And the thing is, Kon is very comfortable, okay? His very defined muscles make for a very nice pillow. And he gives the best hugs, probably only second to Dick's patented Big Bro Hugs™. So Tim maybe falls into a trance every time they fall into each other. It's not his fault.

But eventually, he starts to notice it.

It's subtle, really; innocent, as much as their relationship goes. Neither of them are super interested in sex. They've fooled around a few times before, because, well, teenage hormones. And it's nice, but they both agree that they much prefer falling asleep together more than sleeping together. So Tim knows it's not that. But once he starts noticing, he can't un-notice.

When they're sitting together on the couch, each doing their own thing: Kon catching up on the latest tv serial Gar's got him hooked on, one around slung around Tim's waist, and Tim tapping away at his tablet, most of his weight against his boyfriend. Said boyfriend's hand would slip under the hem of Tim's shirt, and then his thumb would absentmindedly be stroking back and forth along the skin just above Tim's hipbone.

When they're napping together after a long debriefing session, on their sides with Tim as the little spoon: Kon, plastered to Tim's back, would worm a hand under his sleep shirt and press his palm against the flat of Tim's belly. Not moving, not doing anything but holding him there.

When they're all piled up on the sofa for movie nights with the team, Tim sitting in the V of Kon's legs: Kon would hook his chin over Tim's shoulder, and his hand would dip under the collar of Tim's borrowed hoodie, and just stay there. His calloused fingers lingering on Tim's bare shoulder, thumb resting against Tim's collarbone.

Tim could chalk it up to just Kon seeking physical affection, or maybe this is just one of the quirks of being Kon's significant other. He doesn't mind, not really—how can he, when he feels so wanted? But he can't help but be curious.

They're in Kon's room, the soft murmur of the Kents downstairs and the early evening autumn breeze floating in through the open window. Kon has his back against the headboard, with Tim sitting in his lap. Tim is half-asleep, lulled by the rhythmic movement of Kon's hand on his back, under his shirt.

"Why do you do that?" Tim mumbles into Kon's shirt.

"Do what?"

Tim shrugs his shoulders—or tries to. He ends up just kind of wiggling in place. "That," he says. "Your hands. Whenever we cuddle, you always go under my clothes."

Kon stiffens, his hand freezing on Tim's shoulder blade. "Do you not like it? Sorry, I should've asked—"

"No, no." Tim shakes his head, shoving his forehead against Kon's neck. "It's, um. It's nice. I like it. I'm just wondering."

He feels more than hears Kon's sigh of relief. The hand at his back resumes its sweeping motions. Kon's chin lands on Tim's head, nuzzling a little. "It's not... There's no particular reason," Kon says. "You know how I run a little colder because I'm half-Kryptonian? Well, your natural body heat feels really good. Like, reassuring. I don't know. Lights up my dopamine centers or something?"

Tim pulls back. "Are you saying I'm your Tim-shaped hot water bottle?"

Kon blinks at him. Then a grin spreads across his face. "And you're just the perfect size, too!"

Huffing Tim pinches Kon. It probably doesn't even tickle, but Kon pretends to dodge, anyway. He's sweet like that. Tim leans forwards to bury his face into the crook of Kon's neck again. He tugs at Kon's shirt until he can worm his own arms under and slide his palms up Kon's skin.

Kon makes a soft sound. He curls around Tim, squeezing him gently. They stay like that, tangled together, breaths and heartbeats in sync, until Ma eventually calls them down for dinner.

#timkon #tim drake #conner kent #kon el kent #kontim #timothy jackson drake #timkon fanfiction #beanfics #launched myself out of bed to write this in one sitting #trying to write my way out of the sads

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rizatouchesthewalls · 1 year ago

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everyone who writes and supports miles smut can block me, that includes 42 btw.

PLEASE SHARE THIS TO ANYONE WHO SUPPORTS AGED UP MINORS (SPECIFICALLY MILES MORALES)

TW: BELOW THE CUT IS DISCUSSION OF P//DO, UNDERAGE CONTENT. (I don’t go too far into detail but I know some people have been affected by it).

elaboration on why aging up (for sexual purposes) is bad

miles is canonically 15 and dont even pull that “he’s aged up” shit with me cause you know damn well on aged up fanfics they use pictures of CANON MILES. so its pretty obvious u have the teen in your mind. and you know what the ones that are around his age are annoying too but it doesnt put nearly of a bad taste in my mouth as the GROWN ASS ADULTS who make that shit.

and btw dont go and say “oh, it’s hormones and plus miles has hormones” and to that i have to say:

1. if you are a child who likes miles like that, fine, deal with that shit in private tho. you posting s*xual content of a minor is catering to creepy adults online

2. if you’re an adult saying that shit then i can say nothing less that you have the mindset of a groomer. You’re not very far from the mfs who say that “teenage girls are at their ripe age at 16.” you as an adult SHOULD NOT be using teenagers having hormones to your advantage and excuse. That’s disgusting.

“they’re just a fictional character” 😟 can you get a grip? go outside. Miles is a fictional character who is BUILT and DESIGNED to look like a teenager. And astv aint that unrealistic that you can say he’s ambiguous. He’s not. And even if he was he does activities that I do as a teen—I go to high school, I’m nervous about my future—miles is literally a relatable teen, as he was designed to be.

“Then stop looking for the smut posts.” I DONT NEED TO! It infiltrates my ASTV tag and at times the Hobie Brown tags too. You act like your tags aren’t public. If someone wanted to read a Miles fic that was normal fluff they would have to scroll through some smut too!

anyway thats all and dont even both coming up in my comments and reposts throwing a hissy fit you niggas r weird asf and can block me. maybe then id see less weird shit on my tag page. do us all a favor and log off.

+ Update: His ages from any other media isn’t a valid excuse. If you were clearly writing for canon adult miles you wouldn’t have astv miles as the icons and astv as the tag.

+ Update: Miles is CANONICALLY 15 in the first movie, and somewhere in the last movie he was YOUNGER. As mentioned above, mentioning other media as an excuse is bs when in the movies your writing for (itsv, atsv) he’s clearly a minor.

+ The thing that pisses me off the most is how ya’ll act like the people who are uncomfortable are weird. Are you not writing s*xual content about a 15 year old on a daily basis? please.

+ Fiction DOES affect reality. Why do you think people have nightmares after horror? Why does a sad film make people cry? Why does a deep movie change perspective?

+ In the scene where Miles argues with his parents, he says something along the lines of “I’m 15!!!” So if you think he’s not underage, you either didn’t pay attention or don’t have google. Plus what 18 year old discusses college that late? (without any other discussions prior?)

+ if you like little boys stop tryna hide that you like little boys it makes you even more manipulative and gross. no but in all seriousness telling minors that behavior is okay has gotta be SOME form of grooming on a more subtle scale. sorry if that’s too bold for ya’ll but as someone who’s been tricked into thinking content like this was okay when I was younger, I can confirm that this isn’t okay.

+ If to prove character that’s canonically a minor isn’t one you have to pull up seven different source materials that barely correlate to the one you write for, that character is still a fucking minor! It’s giving “she’s actually 3000!!!” when she looks 8.

yeah. kay bye!!!

#astv x reader #miles morales x reader #42!miles x reader #42!miles morales x reader #earth 1610 miles x you #aged up miles #hobie brown x reader #miles is 15 #miles morales smut

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lakesbian · 10 months ago

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I stared down at the ground, at the table leg I was holding. “I get nervous when I’m close to people. I think, you know, maybe I have bad breath, or maybe I have B.O., and I wouldn’t be able to tell, because it’s mine, so I hold my breath like that to be safe. I dunno.” Bravo, Taylor. Bravo. I imagined the slowest, most sarcastic of slow claps. Talking about bad breath and B.O. was totally the way to go. One of those brilliant moments that would have me cringing every time I remembered it in the next few years or decades, I was sure. Then Brian leaned close, closing the scant inches of distance that separated us, until our noses were practically touching. “Nope. You smell nice,” he told me. If I’d been a cartoon character, I was pretty sure that was the point where I’d have steam shooting out of my ears, or I’d be melting into a puddle. Instead, I went with my first instinct, once more, and went very still. I became aware of a heat on my face that must have been a furious blushing.

man we URGENTLY need to get this one redrawn. it's so redrawable. like i was saying last time i was liveblogging i think brian & taylor work specifically because it's not just generic YA-cutesiness. it's two dysfunctional teenagers who Absolutely are not going to work, which taylor accurately predicts and then does it anyway. and brian somehow does not know he likes her right now despite the fact that he is Sniffing Her (LESS THAN AN INCH FROM HER FACE !!!) and then going no you smell nice :). and they only get together in the context of Doomed Hormonal Clinging as a rock for atrociously traumatizing circumstances. knowing that makes the cutesiness Hurt More (Positive). continued thing during this portion of chapters where taylor doesn't know how to respond 2 a Social Occurrence and just. freezes up because she can't do anything wrong and be rejected or hurt if she's not reactive at all.

it's also so. Augh. Painful. that taylor has just been utterly convinced she's disgusting to be around, that she can't Breathe around people without it being intolerable. the bullying-induced paranoia that even when she's just sitting there there's some flaw she hasn't noticed that makes her ugly and mockable. and it's so believably sweet that even though brian has a HOST of problems wrt parsing his own feelings for her he sees her awkwardly fumble thru an accidental confession about the fact that she's scared she's just intolerable to be around and doesn't make it weird or draw attention to her he just leans in and is like. no :) its nice. brian laborn why can't you be more self aware about liking her. you were so close until you fucked it up so bad.

#wormtime 2 #wormtime 2 arc 6 #worm spoilers #jay don't look

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lollytea · 1 year ago

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Love the idea that the feral, hormonal Willow post and the dress measurements post take place simultaneously, so you have this teenage girl holding onto her restraint by the skin of her teeth and then suddenly getting a text from her boyfriend with his measurements because??? what???does she do with this??? Is he making a move?? Is something happening here?? It’s probably too forward to send her own, right?? Should she just go for it or gather intel from her friends first?? meanwhile Hunter is just like “I’m gonna make Willow such a pretty dress :D”

YES!! That is exactly what's going on here. I have this vision of how Willow and Hunter's romantic relationship started off. Things moved quite slow, because Hunter got overwhelmed very easily and Willow liked him so much and didn't want to make him feel uncomfortable in what should be a safe space. It's very new and neither of them really know how to approach romance immediately, but one of them desperately wants to practise and one of them needs more time to ease into it.

Willow is always watching Hunter with sharp eyes, intently reading his body language, waiting for any kind of signal that he'd like to do a little more than hold her hand. It's usually Willow that initiates the less nerve wracking stuff like hugs and hand holding and casual affection, but she let Hunter kiss her first. She's very proud of herself for noticing the way he glanced at her mouth or she wouldn't have asked "do you want to kiss me?" and then he wouldn't have done it. Whenever Hunter initiates something, Willow knows he wants this. She knows they're making progress.

Once during a group movie night, he fell asleep resting against her side and she laid in that uncomfortable position all fucking night. He eventually started sleep snuggling her and she she was fucking EXHILERATED. This is what she's been starving for.

A headcanon that I hold so near and dear to my heart is that Willow is secretly batshit insane. Totally bonkers. Off the fucking rails. Yknow just in general. And Hunter definitely makes the crazy flare up. But she's always been good at hiding it so nobody suspects a thing.

Hunter is not very good at articulating how he feels about Willow but he's desperate to express it in any way that he can. So he's always doing nice things for her. And making her laugh. And supporting her in any way that he can. And surprising her with little gifts that he made.

Willow also isn't all that good at articulating how she feels about Hunter. "You're cute" and "You mean a lot to me <3" and other casual flirty lines are used a lot but she's not quite covering the extent of emotions. She feels a lot more intensely than that. She can't really put it all into words. All these feelings give her the unbearable urge to start gnawing on his flesh like a fucking damn griffin drumstick.

The texts make her wanna act up somethin fierce

Hello_willow: what are these?

RULERZREACHF4N: My hip, waist and bust size <3

Willow at her fucking LIMIT:

What does that MEAN?? WHAT DOES THAT MEAN??? Is this flirting? Maybe Hunter's idea of a scandalous text?? She knows from whispers in the hallways that sometimes significant others send pics when they wanna get bold. Like shirtless pics. She has been hoping every damn day that one day her scroll is gonna buzz and its her shy boyfriend, deciding that he likes the way his chest looks today and he wants to show it off to her. But it can never be that simple, can it? NO. Her fucking tailor of a boyfriend it trying to speak to her in tailor language and she can NOT fucking fumble him right now because there's a chance that if she gets this right, she might get to put her hands on the areas that he has given her the measurements of.

Hello_willow: Oh

Is she supposed to compliment him on his beautiful measurements? His broad chest? His slim waist? Should she say that she'd have no problems wrapping her arms around him? That he is the perfect size for squeezing? That she wants to come over and see for herself if he's being honest? Is that what he wants to hear?

RULERZREACHF4N: Is there something you want to tell me? :)

Willow panics, suddenly feeling the pressure to answer quick. What does he want?? WHAT DOES HE WANT????

She quickly decides that she CANNOT be bold here. Because all of the things she wants to say are shockingly indecent.

That's when she realizes. It's Hunter. Hunter, who told her yesterday that he used to be scared of the dark when he was little. Hunter, who might be trying, in his own weird Hunter way, to be a little more vulnerable. Give her more personal details about himself, so she knows that he trusts her and feels safe with her. Like when a beast rolls over on its belly.

A little of Willow's tension melts away. He's very sweet. She likes him an awful lot.

Not knowing how to proceed, Willow awkwardly tries to let him know that she appreciates him telling her things that he thinks are important.

Hello_willow: thank you

Feeling a little unsure, she adds a question mark at the end. And then, upon getting a few seconds of silence on the other end, she panics again and hurriedly types another message. A little more upfront this time.

Hello_willow: I love learning new things about you Hun. You have very elegant measurements <3

Another twenty seconds pass.

RULERZREACHF4N: Thanks. You're sweet <3

HALLELUJAH TO THE TITAN, TO THE SON AND TO THE HOOTY GHOST!!! HE THINKS SHES SWEET!!! SHE IS GONNA GET TO HOLD HIS HIPS TONIGHT!!!!

RULERZREACHF4N: Can I have your Dad's number?

NO!!! HOW THE FUCK DID SHE FUMBLE THIS!!!!

#huntlow

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