#or hating on those (very nice) mutuals i once had

[mxxnkirby]

getting older is weird for a lot of reasons but i dont think people talk enough about that moment when you subconciously raise the age for people you interact with and also gain a better understanding of age. i don't talk people who were at my age when i started using tumblr, and its to think that i couldve been mutuals with these people like four years ago

like, i've been on tumblr through multiple accounts since i was about 13 and had mutuals who were up to 20 ish years old at the time but i didn't think anything weird of it because we never interacted and so it was "safe" whereas now I'm 17 and i recently unfollowed an 3///d account i just realised was 13.

Likes and reblogs and talking in tags are still indirect interactions and i felt uncomfortable with someone that young being on this side of the internet. the youngest i'll let pass now is 14 since at least that's highschool age but its definitely getting bumped up again when i graduate because 1) as we get older we get different interests and thought processes and opinions so a 13yo is not relevant to things i want to talk about (some of my younger mutuals make me nostalgic sometimes) and 2) because kids have very different brains at each year of their life and the maturity difference even between 14 and 15 is CRAZY

i didnt realise all that at the time but those 20ish year old mutuals i had did. they knew my brain was very immature and 13-core but they still subtley interacted with me when there was no reason for them too and i do not want to make that future kid uncomfortable

[simpjaes]

heeseung taking out all his anger during sex drabble pls ❤️

MDNI.

this was originally written for jeno on my other blog but it fits so well [i rewrote it/reworded a lot of things. it's much better now lol] wc: 2.3k

tags: Heeseung hate fucks reader when he has a bad day, unprepped penetration, reader basically loses her ability to feel anything other than his cock lmao (cock drunk)

It doesn't always hurt when Heeseung has his hands on you. Really, most of the time it’s blissful. There were those nights though, when he would be rough, careless, and borderline worrisome with you. Oftentimes humiliating you in the way you can barely even mutter his name, weak and quivering under him. 

It doesn’t happen happen, but when it does, you know how much you always end up…kind of loving it.

Really, even if in the moment you’re in pain, sometimes even scared, you had to tell him after the fact to keep doing it. That it’s okay. That you fucking love it. 

Naturally, tonight is another one of those nights. 

Heeseung, first, had you against the counter with his strong arms pressing you back until your head hit the cabinets. You were, essentially, pinned there between his frustrated eyes and the counter top with him slotting himself between your legs. Not a single word is said to you, not a single explanation, and arguably, you know better than to ask. 

You already know. He’s had a bad day.

So, you just let him. Feeling his lips go from a grimace to biting and nipping against your skin. You can only imagine how bad his day went for him to be so silent, still, you let him do as he pleases because you don’t exactly want to make it worse for him. If anything, you’re fine with being an outlet. You get plenty out of this too, after all.

And there is a part of him that knows he’s doing this with you rather than at you, based on your previous pleads to be his outlet. He’s forever in love with the fact that you let him be this rough, with his bruising grip and harsh teeth. There’s nothing more in this world he could need to unwind aside from you and you alone. Solely because you let him.

When he drags you to the bedroom without a word, you simply let him. Internally bubbling with all sort of emotions. Fear, excitement, concern, arousal. He appears to be more angry tonight though, solely because his fingers gripping your wrist hurts much more than usual. You can feel your skin under them, pulling and stretching under his grip as he takes you to where he wants you. 

And yet again, like on many nights like these, he doesn’t offer a single bit of foreplay. He does little more than getting his cock out with that same frustrated face, flicking his head down as if he has an expectation of you. That, he does. You know it very well, and you do as you’re directed. Rolling your pajamas down your leg and easily spreading your legs and pussy for him. 

Unprepped, still mostly dry. You know it’s going to hurt, and he knows it’s going to hurt too. The understanding is mutual but the act is much needed on more ends than just Heeseung’s. 

The drag of his immediate, forced, plunge is uncomfortable for both of you, but something about the feeling of getting you wet while he’s inside of you is something that grounds Heeseung beyond belief. The feeling pulls him out of his red thoughts and turns them a shade darker. 

It’s always you who can distract him. 

And, of course, he only goes faster and harder at that point, chasing the moment for when you’ll slick up for him nice and wet. Gripping onto your body in such a harsh way that all you can do for him is whimper and cry. Your eyes always force the tears, especially when he hasn’t kissed you yet. But even if he had kissed you, you’d be unable to kiss him back at this point. Not until the discomfort subsides anyway.

Thankfully, and like always, it doesn’t take long for your body to want it. What was once the sound of dry and slapping skin turns to that of wet, squelching sounds as you drip out and around him. The drag hurts no more, and by this point you need him to go harder, faster, fucking deeper. After all, if he’s going to hate-fuck you when you’re not even the point of his anger, if he’s not even going to kiss you, he better find a way to make it hurt more. 

Heeseung does come back to himself when he feels the slide though, loving that he can come home from his awful day and have you present yourself in such a way for him. He loves you more than anything, for so many fucking reasons that don’t include that, but still. This is what you do for him, and it brings his softness back tenfold as he reaches out for your face, eyes softening for you in concern. 

Fuck, he swears he learns something new about you every day too. After all the years the two of you have been together, he’s shocked when you turn your face away from him. He’s a bit defeated at the act, partially wondering if he’s really pushed it too far in terms of using you. It’s not often he doesn’t at least give you some praise as he does this, but really, he was so, so upset. His brain just….he needed this before saying anything. 

And so, at that motion of you turning your face away from him and his softer hands, he only slams his hips harder. He tips himself back a bit now, using one hand to tug at your clit as if it’s a form of retaliation from your rejection.

It would be retaliation anyway, but Heeseung knows well enough how much you love to hurt. You love when he tugs and pinches against your pretty, swollen clit. The sharp pains always make you cry in a way that fucks your brain up. As if you don’t know whether to plead for him to stop or to ask for more. 

Still, he’s frustrated that you won’t let him love on you now that he’s grounded himself a bit. His whole fucking day has been a disaster, and now you’re pulling away? Not making eye contact? Not letting him kiss you?

“Baby, look at me.” He says, now nearly demanding that you do as he says. 

And, of course, you do. 

“You want it to hurt more?” He continues when you still shift your eyes away from him, but he’s a bit amused in the way you nod to him. So out of it for him that he feels almost silly for being upset at you in the first place. 

“Yeah?” He nods with a half chuckle, slowing his hips but now driving in with intent and harsh plunges. “Just like that?” 

You yelp as you urge him with a nod, loving the sear and feeling of your boyfriend tearing you open. And while you know he’s being rough, he’s not quite giving you his all now that he’s softened up.

You want him to give it his ass by this point now, if the sound of your pussy is anything to go by. You want him to fucking hurt you, to the point you can’t moan, to the point you can’t breathe. 

“More,” You manage to get out for him in another yelped whimper. “You’re being soft.”

“Yeah?” He asks for confirmation with his hand reaching for you cheek again, burying his leaking cock in so deep, so painfully deep. “Look at me.”

You do, showing him your blown out pupils and mess of hair on top of you head. You nod frantically, wanting him to push further than he ever has. Wondering if he’ll ever surpass his own limit for you. 

It goes like this for a while longer than usual. More pain, more pleasure, and your heart rate higher than you thought possible. 

He’s using you so well and you couldn’t be more proud to be this for him. An outlet, his girlfriend, his sex doll. And fuck, he bites, he bruises, he drags his hips so painfully into you that you feel like you genuinely could be split in half at any moment if he truly wanted to. 

So full, you can feel it so deeply inside of you that all you can do is cry.

You lose yourself to that feeling, basking in the sensation of your walls clenching every inch of him and moaning out with each second that passes. To the point your throat is sore and your eyes are swollen from the tears. 

He pulls against your hair now, holding his hips in place and burying himself just as deep as before inside of you. Instantly, you see tunnel vision now. Like you could burst, both physically and emotionally, all for him. 

Him, him, him. 

And he only holds himself like that to the point that you can feel your cervix bruise. He only pushes harder now, trying to inch in more of his cock despite having no more to give. He lifts your leg over his shoulder just to get a different angle at the failure, only to find a way to make you feel him deeper than you thought was possible. 

God, it hurts so good and he loves it. Your pained face paired with the image of your pussy taking the entirety of him. You’re everything to him. 

And now? His grunts are that of focus rather than pleasure. He wants to ruin you, he is trying to ruin you to the fucking core just to see if you’ll unravel in a new sort of way. 

It’s the fact that he’s talking to you through it too. You can’t make out a single word though, tunnel vision is tunnel hearing, and all you can focus on is the feeling of his cock bruising the deepest part of you. Being torn apart by the man you love is…something you’ll never forget. 

And when you do manage to catch a smirk on his face before his hips start sliding back and forth again, you realize he loves this as much as you do. Of course he does, who wouldn’t love a girl willing to let her man surpass his own limits? 

Out of respect, no less. 

“Are you with me?” His voice echoes through your eyes, and while he’s fully aware that you’re absolutely fucking gone with the way he’s fucking you right now, he takes your distant nod as confirmation. 

Despite how far aware he seems in your head, you know that every sensation your body is feeling right now is because of him. You can’t help the quivering. The uncontrollable shaking.

It feels so good, to the point you are nearly numb to everything else around you. The swollen feeling of your body being abused is too, too fucking good. You can’t even comprehend that he’s kissing against your slack mouth, but you do your best to kiss him back. 

Goddamn does he love the way you drool all over yourself and him. Good. Fucking good girl. 

“Try again,” He chuckles against your tongue, waiting, just to see if you can manage to kiss him properly. Though he suspects you’re completely lost in your head right now. 

After all, he’s giving you exactly what you asked for. 

And all you can do in return is blink up at him with a dazed smile. Your body is moving up with each of his thrusts just to make it that much more painful, and his lips continue to lay against yours. He’s truly waiting for you to kiss him back like you have the ability to do it. Like you can truly think of anything else rather than what he’s doing between your legs. 

Hah. 

“You’re so gone, baby.” He smiles in a breath at your failure to do anything more than leave your mouth open for him. He’s fucking floored by how much you love this, and how you truly embrace the inability to think at this moment. “You’re loving this, hm?”

You can’t even not for him this time, feeling pangs of pain and pleasure shoot through your body with each sharp thrust. 

“Try again, pretty girl.” He encourages you when he licks against your bottom lip again, gripping your hair with his other hand and craning your neck back. 

”You can do it, come on.” He adds, biting against your neck and licking the mark. 

You once again, can’t even try, because he accentuates each word with a drag of his pulsing cock and a sharp pressure against your clit with his abdomen. So, you stop trying, falling into the depths of the sensations and allowing yourself to lose your grasp on reality entirely. 

Fucking hell, he loves it. The way you come undone, the way your entire body goes clack before shaking uncontrollably with a wet spurt of your pussy trying to push him out. He can feel you clench around him, your body acting on instinct to push, push, push, the pleasure out and all over him. 

He has to hold back his own impressed moan at the way he stays buried into you as you squirt around him with that pretty, pained look on your face. 

“Fuck, that feels good, doesn’t it?” He grunts out, slowing his pace to feel you clench around him fully, enough to where he needs to brace himself to pull out slightly just to shove his cock right back into that quivering mess. “So out of it too, god–” He moans now, leaning back just to look down fully. Noting how you’ve left a mess all over him. 

And you still continue to quiver, your pussy still clenches and grips him. All the way until you’re slack, still clenching, and he’s now pumping his cum into you with such a relieved moan that it almost brings you back to reality. 

By the time he’s done shaking on top of you, out of breath, and pulling out, your ears are ringing save for his soft voice. 

“Baby?” You hear him say as he dips down beside your head. “I got you.” 

You manage to nod to him and smile in a drunken kind of daze as he lifts you from the bed for the proper clean up from a boyfriend who very much loves you. 

[hai7ani]

Please I need your Bonten Rindou to have a comeback PLEASE.

It has ruined me. (In a very good way btw)

And possibly some lil drabble about Bonten Sanzu....I fear you might have cooked with your bonten's perception 🙏🙏🙏

Main masterlist | cw dark content, bonten timeline, death/grief, reader and sanzu are both a bit twisted (they're both not very right in the head lol...), no romance (but ig it depends on how you view it?)

Moth to a Flame / Sanzu Haruchiyo

i.

Sanzu has never thought you pretty growing up.

You were originally a friend of his sister 一 or her best friend, as you both liked to call it. Never a friend of his, despite the fact that in your early days you have always joined him and his older friends (with Senju dragging you along with her) at the park playing football and getting rough with each other like boys.

He has never once considered you a friend. Not an acquaintance, or even a mutual. Simply... no one.

You're nothing to him.

Every evening after school, you'd show up at their house in sweaty uniform without fail. There would always be excuses floating around you and his sister whenever Takeomi would question your presence, even on the nights they'd sit and have dinner together as a family. Sanzu has always hated sitting across you on the dining table, having to watch with a face of disgust whenever your ugly, heavy glasses would slide down the bridge of your oily nose 一 a result of the entire evening spent playing tag on the playground 一 and having meat stuck between your chunky, purple braces.

He also hated the fact that Mikey had liked you, a lot. It was obvious to everyone in the circle that whatever Mikey had felt for you was a lot different than simply being a friend. He's never treated Senju the way he liked treating you. He liked bringing you to his house 一 hand in hand 一 and inviting you to play with his own sister who harbours a shy nature in comparison to you, who was bubbly and sweet to everyone you meet, especially the elders.

He didn't think you were all those times. He hated you so much.

Sanzu was almost happy that you started packing your things to leave the day you turned 13.

Keyword: almost.

You dropped your equally ugly Elmo keychain in his room the night before you left.

ii.

You're 26 when you return to Japan.

Things have changed a lot since you left so long ago, including yourself.

Amsterdam has been nice to you all these years.

You put on coloured contacts that make you look like a vampire, your teeth are straight and white. You wear red-bottom heels proudly to wherever you go, skinny dress tight and your hair always done nicely, in a bun. Your hips sway with every step you take. You speak English well 一 it's a lot better than before, after the years of European influence, when all that you had to learn from back then was broken phrases of nonsense from Mikey and Baji during judo lessons in the former's home gym, with his grandfather guiding you sternly.

Come to think of it, you haven't heard of Grandpa Sano's voice in ages. You kind of miss it, honestly, when he'd yell at you to straighten up your spine and not slouch so pathetically like a dead shrimp. The last you have heard of his rasp from the cigar he liked smoking was when you were 12. He died when you were all 13 and 14 and 15 from chronic lung cancer.

Like autumn, leaves dry, and they die.

They all die.

You bow once, to the Heavens. You feel a scratch at your elbow, but you ignore it.

You bow the second time, to the Earth. Fingers start pinching at your wrinkly skin, and yet you ignore it, still. The gong is loud and your ears hurt. You start to grow annoyed.

You bow the third time, to all lives on the soil we share 一 humans and animals both. We are all animals on Earth.

Nails cut into your flesh and you bite at your lip, but your face remains stoic.

You straighten up, and you stare at her photo on the altar.

It hurts, but not enough to shed tears.

He finally speaks up when you finish. His voice is still as curt as before. It always is with you 一 never with the other girls who liked flocking to him when young.

"I'll kill you if you don't turn around."

He wouldn't. Not with the fine-lined tattoo running down your spine, the power now in your veins as you stand tall and remain silent.

You don't spin on your heels to look at him like he expects.

Like leaves, they all die.

Your best friend, too, it seems. "Rest in peace, Senju."

iii.

Sanzu finds himself smoking a lot more packs lately.

The multi-coloured pills in his cabinets has also been increasing significantly, much to Kakucho's dismay. The man has never liked when he was high on drugs, even more so when he'd show up late at the warehouse for meetings and ceremonies, high out of his mind, and slurring his words. Mikey lets it slide, Kakucho does not, while the others don't even care.

But this is him, he thinks. The more you nag and restrict, the more he wants to do.

Though lately he hasn't been doing it for pleasure. Something seems awfully missing, and he hasn't been able to figure out why exactly this feeling remains in his chest and keeps him wide awake at night.

It seems to grow stronger 一 always increasing in its intensity and never faltering even the slightest to at least show some mercy 一 when he'd see girls on the streets with blonde hair and bright smiles.

He thinks it's better to not care than to care. He inhales sharply, eyes lingering at the stray cat circling around his feet.

He puffs out the smoke between his cracking lips and throws the cigarette on the ground to step on it. Clicks his tongue when the flame does not dissipate at the first, and steps on it a second time. He shoves a hand into his pocket and feels for his keys, knuckles growing white while he holds the familiar piece of plastic in his hands.

"Young man," a voice breaks him out of his bubble. Today is one of the very few nights he isn't high on anything, and the sudden interaction with another human being who isn't Mikey catches him off-guard a little. Just a little.

"We're closing soon." She says. Her bandana is loose at the corners and her apron is untied. "Are you waiting for someone?" The old cloth slips off her hair and she catches it with a hand swiftly. But her eyes remain on him. They're still the same after all these years.

For some reason her question agitates him.

She does not pull away despite the deepening crease between his brows.

"You've been standing here for days. Can I get you something to eat tonight?" Her smile is warm this time 一 way too warm. She smiles just like his dead mother.

It makes him see red.

"Mind your own goddamn business, hag." He spits, and he leaves. Fast.

She watches his retreating back as he stalks off into the night 一 efforts drained, heart empty.

"That's all for the day, son. You can go home. I'll finish up." She turns to the part-timer busying himself behind the counter. He's about 19, freshly graduated from senior high 一 just like him back then.

While leaning a palm against the wall to fix on her left shoe, she looks at the memory board of her store hanging off of it 一 reaches a frail hand up to pull a piece of polaroid closer to her eyes full of cataracts.

The picture is old with time, but she remembers the story behind it just like yesterday.

A young girl with pristine white hair that she claims to be natural 一 just like the young boy next to her 一 full of smiles and holding a dessert proudly for the camera.

Akashi Senju was here!!!

Everyone, this is the best crepe in town!!! Haru-nii agrees ^_^

21/4/2016

iv. cw: dark content, choking, nudity, suggestive, twisted minds speaking, 18+

You like to think you've changed for the better.

You're a lot better at speaking now. Before Amsterdam, you were a bubbly kid, sure 一 but that does not mean you had been good with words. You have a bad habit of not thinking and filtering words through your head before you talk. It's one of the things that makes you feel genuine to people, but something that can gradually leave a trail of annoyance in people's hearts if not managed well.

You've always thought it was your poor management skills with words that had driven Sanzu away. He's always hated when you'd open your mouth to speak to him. Never liked it even when you'd mumble innocent compliments to his lego buildings or to his amazing seeking skills when playing hide and seek at the park.

But that's alright. You can change.

You never liked doing presentations or public speaking, but you would always swallow down the bile in your throat whenever someone laid eyes on you, if it means you'd be able to speak up more.

You can always change for him.

You heard from Senju once that his brother hated your glasses to death. She thought it might hurt your feelings if you knew, so she'd kept it a secret for years. It comes out to your ears anyway during a challenging round of truth or truth, and it shocked her to see you reacting so positively even to his feelings of distaste for you. "That's alright! We'll go to the optometrist after school. I've heard contact lenses aren't very expensive to afford, right?"

Contact lenses were, in fact, pretty expensive to afford. Even more so for a young student like you back then, who knew little to nothing when it came to managing money and her savings. You still spent a fortune on them, though. You were willing to do it, if it meant getting rid of the glasses he'd hated on you so much.

For him, you were willing to change.

The only thing you had been patient about yourself back then were really just your braces. You needed time for your teeth to be straight again, so you can finally start smiling even brighter for him.

Perhaps it might make him like you a little bit more.

You followed your father to the other side of the world when you overheard the boys speaking in his room one scorching afternoon 一 about how he'd just wished you were gone. You never wanted to leave Japan, but if it meant he would be happy that you weren't around him so much, you were willing to go. You can cry at home, but you can't cry in front of him. It will only disgust him even further.

For him, you were willing to disappear.

But Mikey calls you back to Japan after years of no-contact and recruits you as an advisor in replacement for Takeomi. The man hasn't been doing well since the death of his sister, and Mikey hasn't been able to trust anyone enough to take on his position in the organisation.

Kakucho has had enough to deal with in his own role, and Kokonoi Hajime only wants to be in charge of money and figures. Haitani Ran, the older brother of a duo, wants nothing more to do with the power that has earned him nothing but betrayal, and Haitani Rindou is way too focused on a slut to take on any major responsibilities on his own. Mochizuki Kanji hates Mikey, who he should not be letting so close, and Sanzu is... not well 一 Mikey can't tell if it's grief or something else that has been bothering him.

And you're beautiful, to say the least. You're no longer the ugly girl from childhood that he always says you are.

"美しい," is what Mikey says, when he sits before you in a quiet room on a huge oval table, as he bore holes deep into your soul. He's no longer the boy you knew from childhood who'd drag on your hand and play dress up with your dolls even though he knows nothing about Barbie and makeup.

He is simply an empty shell of a man 一 no soul, no heart. But he still smiles when you reach a hand over to caress his palm and trace along the lines of his skin with your fingers. Your gaze is seductive that it almost works, but he does not give in. Mikey has no heart or soul to truly feel any lust, but you can still see the hints of a small flame growing behind his eyes.

And even then, Sanzu still thinks you're ugly.

He gives you the same look of disgust while you stand naked before his eyes in a hotel room, right in the heart of the city, with police sirens ringing through the night.

Under his angry gaze and hateful eyes you feel just like a little girl again. The girl inside you that you've spent so many years suppressing, begs to be let out from her cage. She yells, screams, bites on the metal bars to be released.

But you're eager to please him tonight. You shut her away again.

Anything to make him happy.

"What can I do for you today?" You ask. His dick is still soft behind his silky, black slacks and he scoffs.

"You talk like a fucking slut. Quit it."

"You don't like sluts?" You question, brow raised high as you step closer to him on the bed, who has his legs spread far apart as he sits on the edge. You welcome yourself between them and cock your head to the side while you watch his face contort into somewhat confusion.

"Hah?"

The disgust still remains, however.

"Saw you looking at Haitani Rindou's lady earlier. She is indeed very pretty." You point out, nodding in agreement. He visibly shifts in his seat and makes a noise to cover up his fluster.

"Do you like her? I can be her."

Silence.

"Or do you prefer the cop who betrayed his brother? I can't be her, sorry, since she's dead, but we can do role play if you like."

I can try. For you.

"Fuck no. I know better than to mess with the Haitanis." He defends. Your lips curl, watching the slip in his demeanour with so much fun, as you inch closer, closer.

And closer.

"So? What else can make you feel better if not those?" You trace your lips along his collar and gently push it flat against him when he doesn't move away. Dark red lipstick stains his shirt as you pull back to admire your work. "Purely sex? I can make it work."

He tries pushing you away at that, but you grab onto his wrists with your ice cold hands before he can even touch you.

"Something extreme, maybe?" You wrap his hands around your throat. It bobs with every drop of saliva that you swallow. You kind of hope he feels the blunt edges of the many words you've pushed down along your throat, too.

"This?" His fingers shake against your skin, you feel.

"Choke me if it makes you feel better. You know you want to. You hate me, don't you? Choke me like you mean it."

His breath grows shaky as they fan against your cupid's bow. You're so close to him 一 way too close.

For the first time in probably forever, Akashi Haruchiyo is scared.

And you're no longer looking at Sanzu, unfortunately.

"Fuck一" you don't let his hands go despite his resistance, "fucking let me go."

Despite his words, you can feel it slowly, as his hands start tightening around your throat. "You're fucking insane一" he spews, pupils dilated behind his irises, "you're not right in the head, bitch."

He presses his hold tighter around you. Sanzu forces out a laugh, while your vision starts growing foggy. He's shaking all around as you grip onto his wrists tight, as a way to ground yourself before he can actually kill you with his bare hands. You try clearing your eyes to look at him one last time.

"Die. Fucking die." He says. "I fucking hate you."

v.

Sanzu lights a cigarette as he stands in the cold.

Though it's not very cold tonight, no 一 the weather's moderate this time. He's felt colder before.

It's still empty in his heart, but he can make do from today onwards.

Your arms are warm as they wrap around his waist gently, wobbly lips kissing along his spine and the meat of his shoulder blades as he inhales the tobacco, before turning around to take a good look at you.

He grabs at your jaw with the other hand to pull you close to his lips and exhaling the cloudy smoke into your mouth.

You take it just like a good girl when he pulls back to watch in amusement as you resist the cough bubbling up in your chest.

He repeats it a few times, and when he finally deems your actions satisfactory, he only kisses you then. Messy, wet, full of saliva 一 he licks at your lips disgustingly, sucks on your tongue like a horny teen, rubs himself up against your thigh.

His hold is steady and you almost melt into his arms when he accidentally burns your chest with the tip of his cigarette. Almost.

Sanzu does not let you touch him just yet.

"You're fucking mine." He whispers, voice low when he pulls away. His grip is still tight and painful around your jaw, but you think his eyes are full of love when they bore into your own.

"Remember that."

Mikey does not appear in your thoughts ever again.

You sigh dreamily and fall to his chest gently. He's there to welcome you as you melt, head low while he gazes into your eyes.

For the first time in your pathetic life, you touch skin with the boy you love the most. He's finally looking into your eyes this time, without the hateful gaze that you have always hated since young but still let him look at you that way simply because you liked him so much back then to even stop him.

You still like him so much today.

Sanzu hugs you close as you say your words.

"I'm all yours, Haru."

[nightlyrequiem]

Valeria Garza X reader mutual masturbation 👀 maybe it turns into the reader and Valeria scissoring really hard with one another until they squirt idkkkk

Hiding behind anon because im a pussy LMAOAOAO (I am over the age of 18 though ^^ /gen)

You're so real for this, anon. (I'd also hide behind Anon, can't be caught lacking.)

I did some research for this one (Thank you twitter.) I've wrote smut before but there's only so much I can do when I've never experienced it myself #maidenlessloser

Hopefully that means the scissoring part was written well.

Tags/Warning: Pure Filthy Smut, Mutual Masturbation, Scissoring, Squirting, No Plot At All, LESBIAN SEX!!!!

Quid Pro Quo

'You owe me.' those were the words muttered after Valeria lent you money to pay off your debt to different loan sharks. You didn't ask her for the money and you're not sure how she knew about your debt. You were hesitant in accepting her money because then you're just in debt to her. The loan sharks were starting to get inpatient and that was a health hazard. You thought she'd ask you to pay her back or do a bunch of neck breaking tasks. That's not what she wanted.

"What?" You ask, wondering if you heard her right. She stares at you from under hooded eyes across from you. Leaning back in her chair with her legs spread.

"I said, I want you to touch yourself for me." She enunciates slowly, like she thinks you're stupid.

Your face heats. "Like masturbation?" You ask carefully.

Valeria rolls her eyes, ringed fingers tapping the wooden table impatiently. "Is there another way to interpret 'I want you to touch yourself for me' that I am not aware of?"

You sit stiffly with your hands politely folded in your lap.

"You want me to masturbate in front of you."

"Yes." She says with exasperation.

You furrow your brows at her, trying to come up with a reason as to why she'd want that. Your mind blanks. "Why?"

Valeria leans forward, eyes locked on yours. "Because I want you humiliated and leaking all over my desk."

Her words are brash and to the point. Sending heat across your face and to your lower regions.

"Right now?" You ask quietly. Looking around. The door behind you is closed but not locked. You picture yourself with your fingers deep inside of you, Valeria sitting there still as a statue, and someone barging in.

"Yes, now." Valeria says. "Take off your pants."

"... Will you kill me if I refuse?" You ask nervosuly.

Valeria's lips curl in disgust. "Killing someone for rejecting my advances is beneath me. I'll just have you fired."

That's not very ideal either but it does give you a choice. 

Do you really care about your job enough to degrade yourself like this? You let your eyes wander over her toned and tattooed forearms, over the swell of her chest under that gray tank top. She's an evil bitch. An evil bitch coercing you into doing a sexual favour for her. It feels erotic in nature, as much as you hate to feel that way. Were you not attracted to her you'd say no and look for another job. 

"Well?" Valeria raises a brow.

"Okay." You mutter reluctantly. Valeria's lips curl into a small smirk. She gestures for you to take a seat on her desk.

You hesitate before climbing up onto your knees and sitting. You wait for further instruction, but Valeria just stubbornly stares at you. You sigh and lean back, fumbling with your pants before sliding them off, not bothering to make it look nice. You're already giving her a show after all. You let them fall to the ground and begin to work on your underwear next.

"Slower." Valeria barks.

you swallow back an angry reply, slowing your movements. You peel your panties away from your body, embarrassed by the way they stick to your folds. You're surprised by how wet you already are. And a little ashamed.

You carefully set down your panties next you and spread your legs. Too aware of how visible you are. You feel a twinge of insecurity. You've had partners in the past, but not once have you been this exposed or scrutinized. You slowly trail your hand over your stomach. Slowly you push your fingers through your wet folds, gathering up slick onto your fingers. You prod around your entrance before rubbing circles around your clit.

Valeria makes no noise. Just sits there and watches. Honestly, her insulting you would make this experience less uncomfortable than her stony silence. You rub a little harder, hitting an angle that makes you arch your back with a gasp. Your fingers trail down once more, and you slip one inside of you experimentally. It slides in with ease and you slowly pump it inside of you.

Rusling fabric reaches your ears, and you tilt your head to see what it is. Just in time to watch Valeria discard her pants. You go still when you see her slip her hand beneath the elastic band of her panties. She meets your gaze with a scowl.

"I didn't say you could stop."

Quickly you resume. Valeria's heavy breathing sends heat through you, making your walls flutter with excitement. You moan a little louder, exaggerating it just a little for her. You buck against your own hand after adding a second finger. Sqeezing and pulling them deeper into your wetness.

Valeria matches your pace. Swiftly pounding into her cunt with her own fingers. Soaking her panties and the chair from the sight of you spread open on her desk. She can see the cloudy liquid of your arousal leaking around your fingers. Slowly dripping down onto the desk and collecting into a small puddle.

she curls her fingers, seeking that spot inside of her that makes her vision blur. Your moaning makes her inner walls pulse. Throbbing out with need. She stops, unable to take it anymore. Valeria wasn't planning on touching you, but she can't control herself. She stands and grabs you, forcing you onto your stomach. You blink in surprise, hand retreating from your pussy. She clumsily peels off her underwear and lifts one of your legs onto the desk, taking in the sight of your raw, puffy cunt.

Without hesitating she slots herself against you, sliding her folds into yours roughly. You gasp and whine, not complaining at all about the turn of events. This wasn't a part of the deal, but you don't care. Not while she's grinding into you and moaning in your ear. Her pace is fast and rough. Her hands grip onto your hips, aiding in her task. Your pussy throbs and weeps. Thick arousal leaking from you and dripping down your thigh, wetting her mound. she slams herself into you, grunting and panting. The loud slap of skin on skin almost drowns her out. Valeria reaches up and squeezes her breast painfully, adding to the stimulation. Something inside of you snaps. The pleasure and sensation becoming too much. You feel wetness rushing out of you. Each pulse sending more of it to the ground. You hear it audibly splash.

Valeria groans. Feeling it hit her legs. She trembles and sobs, feeling her own dam break. she doesn't stop or slow as she releases. Liquid squirts from her hole, soaking her legs and the floor, accumulates in her folds. she's left recklessly humping on you while the both of you cum. Making a mixed mess of arousal. Her legs shake and she finally falls still. Leaning on top of you, crushing you to the desk. Both you and Valeria can smell the aftermath. Covering your legs and the floor. Her warm breath hits your shoulder blade as the both of you catch your breath. She slowly pulls off you, the space between her thighs wet and slippery.

Your ass is left hanging off the desk, the consequences of your copulation running down your legs. She spreads you, watching your empty hole glisten and flutter.

"Consider your debt repaid." She says.

Your leg twitches. You're too fucked out to form a response. you think you may need to borrow money from her again sometime soon.

[astridthevalkyrie]

oh my god, bakugo's kind of my friend! | k. bakugo x reader

----> summary: You'd never dare tell anyone that he was your friend. You'd never be so bold. Katsuki agrees. He's definitely not your friend.

----> warnings: quirkless university au, video game violence, fluff n feelings

----> a/n: title blatantly stolen from the office—"oh my god, dwight's kind of my friend!"

----> word count: 2k

God, no, you’re not friends with Katsuki Bakugo.

No one is.

Yeah, okay, that’s not totally true. He’s sort of friends with Ochako, that’s how you met him. He’s actually fairly close to Izuku and Eijiro, his roommates. He tolerates Shoto, might even begrudgingly respect him. And he’s got some weird mutual-depression pact going on with Kyoka. 

But you’re not any of them. And you vehemently deny it when people ask, lest he, heaven forbid, think you’re going around telling people he likes you. You saw what happened to Neito last year when he, just once, said something about his friend Katsuki. You’re pretty sure it was the reason behind his switching majors, too, just to avoid being in the same classes with the terrifying blonde.

Sure, you’re in his apartment. Neito’s never stepped foot in here (aside from The Incident). And you’re well acquainted with the people he does clearly consider not-enemies. Earlier today, you and Momo had been out getting chips and soda for tonight. Just half an hour ago, you’d been playing blind karaoke with Eijiro, Izuku, and Ochako on Kyoka’s old laptop and mic that somehow both still had really good audio quality. Not to mention, you and Mina have had at least one class together every semester since you both started—she always races to slide into the chair next to you on every first day.

And you’re currently sitting on Katsuki’s couch, two feet away from Katsuki, playing a battle royale on Katsuki’s console.

“Behind the building,” he mutters, and you hum in acknowledgement, running to the spot he generously marked on the map.

It started a long while back. You and Denki had been playing some shitty racing game, and you’d very easily kicked his ass, leaving him groaning and flopping back onto Kyoka’s lap, where she offered no pity, rolling his head off with a light shove. As you were laughing at the display, Katsuki had taken Denki’s place on the floor, and all but demanded you pick up the controller once more.

(You’d won again. Terrified, you simply claimed that your controller must be broken before racing out of the room.

Imagine your surprise when, the next time you visited, he’d barked at you to assist him with a multiplayer, ordering a pouty Denki off the couch.)

You like playing, and you don’t have a console with as much storage back home, and you’re too broke to be buying multiple games anyways, so you don’t mind taking advantage of Katsuki’s appreciation for your skill. It’s usually a nice way to end the night, whether you and Ochako end up leaving or if you fall asleep right there on the couch.

Shivering, you bring your feet under the wool blanket you’d brought with you. You’re the only one who finds the apartment freezing. Everyone else typically sheds their extra layers, while you once hunted down Eijiro’s sock drawer to steal a pair of He-Man stockings for the night. 

“Up in the window,” you warn, at the same time he says, “Oi.”

Both of you meet each other’s gaze for a second in bewilderment, before rapidly turning your attention back to the TV. He dodges the shot from the window, and then continues.

“You been tellin’ people I hate you?”

“What?” Your hands almost drop the controller, but you regain control just quick enough to roll out of the way of a grenade. “No.”

“Kirishima said Tetsutetsu told him that Kendo told him that Tokage told her that you told her I hated you.”

If you weren’t nervous, you’d tell Katsuki you were surprised he even knew all those names. “I didn’t say that. I just said we weren’t friends.”

There’s an awfully long pause. You can still hear the sounds from the game, and the chatter of everyone else in the apartment—Hanta’s trying to rap?—but not a word from your couch partner. If it weren’t for the screen in front of you, you’d be nervously biting your nails or just full on escaping, honestly. Not that you’re scared of Katsuki, at least not more than one should be, but…

Well, the truth is you did see him as a friend. Or, screw it, as more than that, if those little arrhythmias you observed in yourself every time he would raise his hand in greeting when he passed you on campus were any indication. And you know it’s going to hurt—it already does—to hear him confirm the same thing that you told everyone when they asked. That you meant very little to him, in the long term.

“We’re not friends, huh?” he finally says, as more of an inquiry than you’d expected it to sound.

Your mouth feels dry, but you don’t stop staring straight ahead, spamming X to whack someone over the head with a bat. “Um. Are we?”

“Isn’t this your favorite game?” he shoots back, as though that answers your question.

“Yes? So?”

Another pause. You climb up to the roof of some building and emote pointlessly before hopping down and ducking behind a bush to heal. Katsuki lets out a mix of a sigh and a grunt, dashing across an abandoned minefield. 

“So,” he snarks, “I only bought it after you told me it was your favorite.”

Faintly, you feel the tips of your ears grow hot. Is that true? That can’t be true, can it? The timing does line up. You think it was back in the first week of October that you mentioned it, and then by Halloween you’d already played several rounds. Between that and losing to Momo in several games of pool, finals month had flown by.

But…

“I didn’t even tell you that.” Your voice comes out meek, and even though you’re in a safe space now, you’re still too nervous to turn your head and look at him. “I was talking to Shoto.” You’d even been half sure that Shoto wasn’t really registering what you were saying, with Ochako an inch away from him shrieking starships were meant to fly-y-y-y-y directly into his ear.

Katsuki grunts. “I was there, wasn’t I?”

If you wrack your memory, you can sort of remember it. He was…on Ochako’s other side? When she got drunk, she usually wanted to whack something, and Katsuki’s arm had been her victim that day, her palm smacking against his elbow at every other sung word.

The heat from your ears travels down to your neck. Over the singing and over everyone else’s conversations, was he paying attention to…you?

“I appreciate it,” you squeak quickly, wincing when you’re shot in the leg, “I mean, that was nice. Thank you. I just—I didn’t think you wanted me telling people we were friends, after what happened to—”

“If you bring up Monoma, I’ll take away your blanket,” he threatens; it makes you chuckle weakly. “You’re not that shithead. He pisses me off. You’re…you know.” You don’t know, actually. “You.”

Yeah, you’re you. You play games with him. You know his friends. You’re the only one who can try to outdance Eijiro to Rasputin in Just Dance. What does any of that have to do with…

“Do you think I ever fuckin’ carried that dick’s bag to class?”

“I don’t—”

“Do you think I had his stupid long ice cream order memorized? Pistachios, on the sides only,” he mimics, and you huff in an affronted sort of way, defensive of your topping choices. “Telling people to shut up so that I could hear what he was saying? Turning up the heat and burning up everyone in the apartment just to keep him warm? Was I inviting him to my place every two weeks just to fuckin’ watch him play Kingdom Hearts 3?”

And so, you finally look to the side. Katsuki’s cheeks are red, and his gaze is still on the television. His thumbs move furiously against the controller, and you have to bite your lip to prevent a quiet you’re really cute, you know that? from carelessly slipping from your mouth.

“But, to be fair,” you attempt, still confused, “you don’t exactly do all of that for your other friends either, Katsuki.”

At your words, he slouches into his seat more, the creases on his forehead deepening as an uncharacteristic frown—a frown, not a scowl—forms on his face. One would think you’d just told him you hated his guts. 

“Yeah.“ His glare flickers over to you for a moment. “Exactly.”

There’s a blast from the TV and a realization that hits you at the same time. 

You’re not his friend. He doesn’t see you as a friend.

The heat finally reaches your cheeks, and your mouth falls open slightly. 

Then, realizing something else, your head immediately snaps back to the screen to see that blast sound had actually been your character getting blown up. 

Your mouth falls open. You’d looked away for a few seconds at best. Which aces are in the lobby tonight?

“I lost,” you tell him, crestfallen. 

Katsuki snorts. “I didn’t.”

He keeps playing, and your cheeks don’t take any time to cool down. Instead, you stare at him while he’s distracted trying to escape the same vicious bastards who hunted you down, and you note that his face doesn’t look any less heated either. For once, it’s clearly not because he’s just getting into the game.

You wonder if that was ever the case at all, or if he just felt the same striking little jolt you did everytime you two accidentally bumped into each other while playing on this exact couch.

“I think I’m done for tonight.” The announcement comes out a bit louder than you expected. “I’ll probably head back.”

“I don’t think so.” Without breaking his eyes away from the TV, he nudges his head in the direction of the bedrooms. “Uraraka’s dead on her feet, and you’re not walkin’ back alone.”

Has he always purposely caused the fluttering in your chest? “Okay, well. Izuku’s still awake, I’ll just take his bed for now.”

Katsuki’s tongue clicks in a fuck-around-and-find-out kind of way. “Alright. Put the controller back before you go.”

“Fine. Where’s the, uh…” You turn your head this way and that, looking for the little box that they all go in.

“On my right,” he offers casually, not a hint on his face that he essentially just confessed to you.

Feeling a little spiteful, you reach to the side, blanket and all, instead of just standing up and going behind the couch like you would any other day. Purposefully blocking his view of the screen as you reach over him to toss the controller into the box, you smirk slightly when another blast signals that he’s died as well.

Only to yelp when a firm arm shoves you down against his chest.

“Would you look at that,” he murmurs, red eyes glittering in amusement as he watches you struggle on his lap, “I lost too.”

Tokage is going to hear a very different story tomorrow. “And how’s that my problem?”

His grip tightens, fingers gently digging into the thick cloth of the blanket that’s draped over you. “I wanna play again. And I’m cold.”

There’s a small, dumb grin on his face that you’d consider kissing off if it wasn’t mirrored by an equally dumb one of yours. You’re pretty sure Katsuki’s never ever complained about the cold in his apartment. But then, he’s never complained about the heat either. If he wants to be a sauna under you, who are you to deny him? Besides, you’re feeling cold too, you might as well just take advantage of the free insulation.

From the table, in the midst of pouring something that looks like cookie batter into a bowl, Kyoka raises her brow at the sight of you, then pats Tenya’s arm and points. 

He mouths something like, “Finally.”

Face burning once more, you bury your face in Katsuki’s neck, and relax in his hold while he presses X to replay.

[hyunjuswife]

You're Submission's what I need/ Queen of Hearts (Bridget) x fem Queen Reader!

Characters included: Queen of hearts (Bridget), Cinderella Charming, King Charming, and Uma

Queen of heart's (Bridget) x fem Queen reader!

Why did I create this? Simple: the Queen of Hearts is attractive, and I strongly believe she's a lesbian. (I think all cold, ruthless, baddie queens with a sad backstory are lesbians.)

Prompt: You are the Queen of the Seas, Uma's aunt and elder sister to Ursula and Uliana. When word reaches you that your niece is being held against her will by the ruthless Queen of Hearts herself, you decide to pay a visit. After all, nobody messes with your family, right? However, things take an unexpected turn when the Queen realizes just who you are.

TW! Before reading this, note that there is no use of Y/N or '(Y/N)', and you have a name. This will be written in the third person POV, with mature language and subtle implications of sex as a bribe.

---

Ursa, Queen of the Seas, was a name that struck fear into the hearts of those who spoke it. You were feared across all sea lands, and for good reason.

However, that didn’t mean you were cold to your flesh and blood, including all of Uma's mates.

So, when you received a message that your niece was being held against her will, along with others, you were angered but also curious.

Who was foolish enough to hold someone dear to you against their will, knowing who you are?

Was it Hades? Surely not. The old beast had better things to do than provoke the Sea Queen. Maybe it was Morgie or even Hook? They weren't very fond of you, and the feeling was mutual.

They were the worst set of mates you’d seen your younger sister crew with, but you had no say in that. You did, however, warn them once: you'd find them, skin them alive, and then proceed to drown them if they ever hurt Uliana.

Needless to say, you weren’t too happy to learn your niece was being held against her will.

What the fuck happened here?

That was all you could think as you stepped into the dry lands of Auradon Prep, brushing off any sand and dust that clung to your dress. It had been years since you last willingly set foot in Auradon (though you weren't invited back; you were just here to make sure Uma was okay).

Everything was... different. Not that you were complaining; the place needed a makeover, even if it was a bit unusual. In a way, you found it oddly fascinating. The skies seemed darker, a crimson shade of red, and it was eerily quiet.

Quietly making your way through the empty halls of what you assumed was Auradon Prep, you found yourself at a dead end, large cards blocking all views and ways into where the people resided.

You huffed in annoyance, retracing your steps back to the sea to see if you could get in through the top, and luckily, you could.

Using your tentacles to lift you upwards, you quietly observed from above.

Your steely gaze swept over the crowd of cowering, fearful, and hateful eyes until they landed on a certain green-haired woman—there she was!

Held against her will,indeed, but no harm had come to her. Sighing in relief, you felt as though you could finally breathe properly.

After a few seconds, Uma caught your gaze from where she knelt, her eyes lighting up when she spotted you. Winking at your niece, you placed a finger to your lips, signaling her to stay quiet. Heeding your silent warning, Uma sent you a playful eye roll and a slight pout.

"Let me go!" Snapping your attention back to the drama unfolding before your eyes, your interest piqued as you set eyes upon a redhead.

So it was the Queen of Hearts who had your niece. Though you can't say you remember her like this—villainous and evil—it suited her.

"Oh, Charming. So nice to see you again," Bridget spoke, her voice steady and so unlike the girl you vaguely remembered (the version your sisters used to tell you about: bubbly, sweet, nice, and oh-so-desperate for a friend or two).

"Where is she? Where is Cinderella?" Shoved to the ground, Charming groaned from the fall, and Bridget seemed to relish in it all.

Turning, she picked up a pair of glass shoes that belonged to Cinderella.

"Why—"

"No..."

"Are you looking for these?" she taunted, dangling the glass pair on the tips of her fingers as she stared at the kneeling man. You shifted a little, now watching the show unfold with keen interest.

"What have you done?" His voice broke and cracked a little, and for a moment, you felt pity for the poor guy—after all, he did just lose his happily ever after.

Throwing the glass shoes against the ground floor, they shattered, pieces flying everywhere. The black-haired man broke at the sight.

"Not so funny now, am I?" Bridget retorted, watching as the man fumbled forward, hands trembling as he attempted to pick up the pieces of the broken shoes. She smiled, wicked and evil in every sense.

Hot. Fucking. Hot.

"No... What... No... No... No!" he shouted, and she continued to laugh, relishing in his brokenness.

"Guards, take him away. I want him out of my sight," the redheaded Queen ordered firmly, gazing into the eyes of each of her faithful yet fearful guards, and they nodded without a word.

"Well, that was interestingly brutal," you muttered to yourself with a soft chuckle. However, it died down when Uma sent you a look.

The kind of look that said, "I'm telling mom if you don't hurry up and turn this shit-show around," and you groaned softly to yourself.

With an eye-roll, you dove back into the depths of the sea, a swirl of water circling around your form, drawing everyone's attention as expected.

As you landed on the hard surface of the floor, people made space for you, and guards stepped back, armed and alert as your figure became clearer.

You wore a beautiful deep blue mermaid dress, with a plunging neckline that complemented your body perfectly. As the water completely disappeared, you emerged from the depths.

"Alright, as much as I loved the show, I have to put a stop to this... whatever this is," you spoke up, gesturing towards the crowd and the scene in front of you.

"And who are you to demand that?" Bridget replied, her gaze curious and wary, eyeing you from head to toe before they landed on your face.

"Ursa, Queen of the Seas. Though I doubt any of you have heard of me," you murmured the last part, glancing around at everyone—the parents, the fearful children, and then the guards. They wore cool masks, but they didn’t fool you.

You knew fear when you saw it.

"I don't think I've heard of you... Hmm..." The redheaded woman hummed thoughtfully to herself for a while, seemingly lost in her world of thoughts.

While she was, you glanced towards your niece, quietly making your way towards her. Uma smiled, slowly and brightly. You'd come to save her, and she was thankful for it.

When two guards stopped you, you stared up at the two men and scoffed. Tentacles emerged from within you and effortlessly lifted them off the ground, throwing them elsewhere.

As you came face to face with your niece, you sighed in relief and silently pulled her into a tight hug.

"Excuse me—"

Turning away from Uma towards the redheaded queen, who was smiling tightly, you nodded.

"I don't think I've heard of you before..." Repeating her words once more, it felt like a demand, as if she commanded you to tell her who you are.

Giggling lightly, you crossed your arms over your chest, giving her a once-over to appreciate the beauty standing before you.

"I said my name's Ursa, didn't I? Wait, I forgot to mention I'm related to someone you may or may not dislike—" Humming to yourself, you shrugged. Oh well, she’d come to know who you are one way or another.

"—Uliana. Does that name ring a bell?" you asked, taking a confident and taunting step forward, not too close to invade her space but enough to smell her perfume.

"You..." she murmured, her gaze suddenly turning darker and colder. A slow smile crept its way to your mouth, and you sighed.

"No, no. I'm not the younger sister; I'm the older one, not Ursula. God no, that idiot wouldn’t last a day being Queen. Like I said before, I’m Ursa, Queen of the Seas and firstborn daughter of Aquarayna."

Gasps and whispers spread among the crowd, but your gaze stayed fixed on the wicked beauty in front of you.

"I see now. I assume you're here for the Uma girl then. Well, that’s too bad. I don't give, I take. Now, kneel."

Inwardly, you cursed up a storm. Of course, she’d say something like that. What could you say to sway her? Then, a dirty and wicked thought crossed your mind. Why not bribe her with something she—hopefully—couldn't refuse?

Sex.

It was risky and stupid but consequences be dammed when the life of your niece in the hands of Bridget.

Instead of heeding her warning, you took another step forward, invading her personal space as the others watched on, breaths held, waiting for your answer.

"What if I give you something else instead, something you very clearly need, hmm?" You murmured, hand brushing against her soft skin as she stared down at you.

''And what would that be, Hmm? what could you possibly have that I would want?'' She scoffed, a bitter sound as she shook her head.

Leaning forward, you whispered in her ear, your breath hot against her seemingly cool and cold skin. ''Indulgence, pleasure I doubt you've felt in a while. Only, if you release Uma and keep her unharmed''

A/N: If you want a part 2 dm me ideas bcs after writing this shit-show I have literally no ideas for anything else for a bit (literally put my tears blood and sweat into this shit. I also wanted to apologise fornot be active in literally MONTHS.)

[monimccoythings]

Hello, Neighbor (C!Wolverine x reader)

I'm so sorry, as much as I adore Hugh Jackman the second I saw that Wolverine something inside me broke and I went feral. I needed to do this. I just love mutual pinning. I'm not specifying which Wolverine because it's a small spoiler (not entirely plot relevant!) but I think we all know who I'm talking about.

Slight NSFW themes, nothing big

X- You usually find him working on his motorbike in the garage below your shitty apartment complex, a cigar in his mouth, and dressed in a thin white tank top that clung to his sweaty and impossibly muscled body like a second skin.

X-Not gonna lie, since the very first moment you laid eyes on your new neighbor you have had the hots for him. Who wouldn't??

X-He was the quiet type. Reserved, with a permanent scowl that seemed to drive away anyone who crossed his path. You understood, maybe he valued his privacy. But that didn't mean you weren't going to be as kind as you could everytime you two met.

X-Easier said than done. It was hard to form a coherent thought let alone two sentences when he was in front of you in a leather jacket whose seams were about to burst from the inmense pressure his bulging biceps were submitting them.

X-You saw the corner of his mouth twitch upwards at your antics. Gosh, now he must think you're an idiot. Why wouldn't earth swallow you up once and for all and end your misery??

X-Still, no matter how much you embarrassed yourself you still came for more. Even if it left your heart nearly bursting out of your chest and your insides twisted in knots. It was all worth it just to see his frown loosen.

X-One day, he even dared to show a small smile. And you, being the current monarch of kindness and stupidity, thought it would be a great idea to tell mr. 'dark and broody' that he had a nice smile. He immediately tensed and mumbled some excuse to quickly retreat to his apartment, leaving you alone in a hall that stank of mold and booze.

X- As you dejectedly made your way towards the apartment, you mentally kicked yourself for stepping over his limits. Who were you kidding? That man could have a supermodel every night if he wanted to, of course he wouldn't have any interest in you. He was just being polite. And now you have ruined it. Way to go, Y/N.

────────────────────────────────────────────

X- Fuck. Shit. God fucking damnit. What was that? One compliment and he already turns into a fucking lovesick mutt. He needed a fucking drink.

X- The cold bitter taste of the beer, helped cool the burning fire inside him. He shouldn't have allowed it to go that far. Not with you.

X- He could argue that he barely knew you at all and he had to be careful, but he would be a lying bastard, wouldn't he?

X- When he saw you for the first time, absentmindedly looking through your mail, the animal inside him riled against the bars of his cage, demanding to consume you and possess you. It was overwhelming.

X- He had memorized everything about you: your routine, the music you liked based on what his sensitive ears heard, the way the corner of your eyes crumpled when you smiled, your scent, the sound of your voice, your dressing patterns...

X- He knew each time you went out and each time you brought a man with you. He hated every single one of them, he watched from afar with clenched fists and foam in the corners of his mouth, and desired nothing more than to rip those men to shreds with his claws.

X- He knew when you touched yourself, how poignant and musky your scent became, nearly driving him insane. How husky and soft your voice sounded when you moaned. Sometimes he found himself wishing it was his name you were calling in short breaths, sometimes he wished he was the one making you sigh in pleasure.

X- He was a dangerous man, unstable, full of rage and trauma, with many enemies who would do anything to get back at him. And besides, he was still hurting over Jean, he doubted he could open his heart to anybody else that wasn't that redhead. It was better this way.

X- So he vented his frustrations in alcohol, one night stands and bar fights. Claws unfolding when the treacherous thought of your delicate face came to mind. He had given you thousands of reasons to turn away from him, like the others.

X- Yet, there you were... Always with a smile, always with a nice word for him. If only you knew what he was, what he did, would you run away from him?

X- He couldn't afford this. This couldn't be for him, the closer you got the more dangerous it would be. This itch inside him that wouldn't let you go entirely was urging him to go across the hall and pound on your door until there were no more barriers between you two.

X-However, he knew, that the second he set foot on that corridor, all of his self control and restrain would be thrown out of the window. Even so, he still opened the door of his apartment.

[theoldsports]

In an alternate universe where art wasn’t involved in such a toxic situation, what would college art be like as a boyfriend? I’d love to hear your thoughts!

I feel like he’d be open to just about anyone as long as they had a good personality and a good heart. It wouldn’t matter if they played tennis or not; he’d love them for them and hope they’d love him just the same. Idk just some thoughts 💭 😚

Art is the boy that has had a broken heart one too many times and too much shit talked about him for him to run around hurting someone directly on purpose. He is, as far as college athlete relationships go, an exceptional boyfriend.

Art’s major is also Physics. It’s Physics. No arguments.

His girl parties? He’ll show out if it doesn’t ruin his game/practice schedule that weekend. His girl hates parties? They’ll stay in.

As a matter of fact, Art’s probably gonna swing for a girl that’s not a tennis player, but kindly tennis-curious. He likes having someone to teach about the game. And to mutually learn about her world and interests.

He’s probably gonna pull a talker. Art is a talker when he’s with another talker, but he has a hard time with other more reserved folks day in and day out.

Once he starts talking though, Art’s going to keep talking.

The kid knows he has a difficult schedule, but he’s going to want to spend time with his girl. Just the walking between places, having lunch, going to Target, studying, catching a cigarette behind the athletics complex kind of time. Those are the best moments of his day.

Art is going to ask to move into an off-campus apartment with his girl way sooner than is rational. Dealing with thin walls, squeaky lofted beds and roommates doesn’t yield a healthy relationship necessarily.

He loves staying in bed all day with her. Just laying there and chatting.

Unfortunately, he’s a really early riser. Art was conditioned to be. On school days, he’s very oh, yeah, I go up at six, ran a mile and had some toast. You want coffee? There’s some on the counter. Like that’s a normal way to be.

His media comprehension for plots in movies isn’t high. Movie nights are kind of wait, I don’t get why it’s call Ocean’s Eleven. So Art gets a lot of that explained to him and he… likes having the little things explained to him like he’s stupid. It’s funny, because he’s so fucking smart that his girl always wondered if he was faking it for attention…

Art’s dreadful when he’s sick. He’s not gonna try and push through it. He’s going to lay there and be useless when he’s ill. He wants to be taken care of.

Fundamentally supportive. There is nothing Art will not do to help his girl. Nothing.

He’s helpful with STEM-based homework.

Hand-holder. Art likes leading his girl from place to place. Or maybe being led is more apt.

He’s a lost puppy. His biggest flaw is being too loyal. This could result in brash, clinginess. Not all too bad or traumatic.

Art is a realist. So when he fantasizes with his girl about the future, that is what he wants. This relationship isn’t a joke or some game of chase.

This relationship is the thing that gets him fired up. He will stop at nothing to keep it nice through the good and bad times.

(He also understands that not every time is a good time. He will stay through the shitty moments too)

Art is dreamy. He really, truly is.

[tomomiisasleep]

notes on Harryanthe which I am crazy about, in HtN

this dumb little interaction just stuck with me. I mean they're almost always high-strung in the detailed plot, like in almost every one of the Ianthe-centered scenes one of them is in some kind of pain

but I know they have chill moments. mundane moments. petty arguments, like the one in the post scrips of the letter. And I so badly want to read those!!

anyways. I'm gonna start collecting scraps here.

you might have given Ianthe Tridentarius the pleasure of opening the note labelled Upon the death of Harrowhark Nonagesimus. Your only hope for that note was that it contained a single sentence along the lines of, Get what joy you can from my corpse, you devious bitch, but it was written by a previous self and you could not risk a guess.

Harrow: what if I didnt hate her and that makes me wanna have a lobotomy yeah that makes sense

Once, vilely, from Ianthe; she had ensconced you in fat and rolled you down the hallway out of danger, and still laughed whenever she thought about it.

ok this is just Ianthe being a little pest, but it also means that she talks about this and laughs in Harrow's face, which makes her a little bitch, but also like it means they often chat and Ianthe would be like: Yeah today I tried the theorem on apples again, but I tweaked it by directing the flow of thalergy from- hey Harry do u remember the time I saved your life hahahahahaha

The mockery you endured for needing her proximity was exquisitely painful, but humiliation was steadily becoming your existence whole and entire.

I want to know what exactly this mockery entails

It had been very nicely matched to the original until she had ceased using it altogether, and the difference was more pronounced each day. Unconscious of your critical eye, she scratched fretfully at the line until red hives appeared.

Ianthe squirming under Harrow's gaze for once

She was in a filthy mood, if she was wearing that thing, with her arm exposed.

Harrow has been keeping tabs on the state of her arm problem ever since she first woke up on the Erobos. Same as how Ianthe has been keeping tabs on the results of her lobotomy.

she said, blue eyed, those oily little freckles glittering almost pinkly above the dress. They reflected the red rims of her eyelids. You thought that she had been crying.

yeah stare at her eyelids Harrow, and sniff her discreetly all the time, sweat musk vetiver am I right (also have I expressed how crazy it drives me that she wears masculine perfume??????????? no well IT'S SO *faints*

You got better autopsies of her encounters with Beasts than you did from your own, as Augustine was wont to explain significantly more to her than either he or Mercy did to you.

Ugh why why why in this whole book I have not seen them talk shop with each other even once??? Except Harrow showing off after making the arm. Harrow has discussions with Pal all the time in GtN. clearly she trades notes on necromancy with Ianthe frequently. but no, gloss over Ianthe's intellect and just write her freak(fond) moments

You had once been fool enough to recommend that Ianthe take them down, at which point she had rustled up another from the bathroom and hung it in pride of place above an overpainted dresser.

love her

“Oh, heaps,” said Ianthe, who appeared not to have taken offence at your rejection. It was so impossible to tell, with Ianthe. “I made it. It’s vile.”

Maybe she really doesn't care about the rejection or even likes it, but "so impossible to tell" kinda hints that, well she might be hurt,maybe, there just isn't any proof

It was not a connection formed of any mutual admiration; if anything, the more you saw of Ianthe the less likely you were to mistake her for likeable. She made herself like an overdecorated cake: covered so thickly in icing and fondants and gums that it would take serious excavation to find any bread. As a necromancer she was a genius, though you thought she relied too much on shortcuts and circumventions. She had an exceptionally fine mind. She was not afraid of rigour.

If Harrow doesn't have the hots for her at least I do.

Honestly on my first read I took stuff like "not likeable" and "“Tell me to stop breathing,” she said. (“I have, on multiple occasions,” you said.)" at face value and actually thought Harrow genuinely hates her and is forced to interact with her because there's no one else. Which is true. But she's also very attracted to her and I kinda overlooked it at because I thought those feelings were mutually exclusive. And they're not. which I'm obsessed with.

Or she won't think Ianthe's beautiful and note details about how she dresses all the time.

Seriously Harrow's special fixation on "how Ianthe's clothes make her look" is hard to ignore.

for example:

The mother-of-pearl made Ianthe’s hair a lurid yellow and threw up all the mustard tints of her skin; her face was blotchy, and her eyes were sleepless pits. She looked like shit.

The skirts and waists were all beautifully cut for someone of a different height and body type than Ianthe possessed. They were tight where they should have been loose and loose where they should have been tight. They looked like her burial clothes, and she looked as though she had emerged fifty years after that burial.

she answered after a long, scuffling minute, with sleep in her eyes and her hair in dilute whey tangles over her neck and shoulders, wearing a bewildering short garment of violet chiffon.

The back was open, and you could see the fine dents of her spine—her bleached skin bluer and sweeter against the pallid gossamer—and the twin blades of her shoulder blades looked strangely nude and vulnerable to you.

Ianthe was training in her nightgown—a grisly floor-length concoction of pale golden lace that made her long, limber body look like a green-veined mummy

a lone wax figure in pale purple chiffon, tall and colourless—except in the greasy metal of her bone arm, which the lights rendered all the colours of the rainbow.

Ianthe rose soundlessly to her feet, and the long skirts of her nightgown—a brilliant ruffled canary-yellow silk that made her look like a formal lemon—rustled restively around her calves.

Note that Harrow focuses on Ianthe's clothes for how they shape Ianthe's appearance. in contrast:

she ignored your sister, whose pallid eyebrows had shot up so fast and so far that they were in danger of breaking the atmosphere. Mercymorn wore a long slip of peach-coloured silk, and her white Canaanite robe was tucked over her forearms and had slipped entirely off her slender, aggrieved shoulders. She had scraped her hair into a merciless and shining coil at the back of her head, and she had no eyes for either of you.

Obviously Mercy is SUPER HOT here, if Ianthe's reaction means anything. But Harrow only describes her clothing and not how she looks. Same with Augustine's party outfit.

With Ianthe, it's always: she's wearing ..., which makes her look gross. And I did not understand at first but now I know and feel stongly that Harrow is totally into her gross-hotness. well at least I am. the grosser she's described the hotter she is.

[kame-writes]

Some Hazbin Hotel Head Canons I have:

Pt.2

Alastor was both a moonshiner and bootlegger when he was alive. He would have been in his prime during Prohibition, and the hoof prints on his shoes were actually common among bootleggers. They were used to trick police that might try to track them by their footprints.

Those shoes are why he was mistaken by a hunter for a deer. The hunter was tracking the hoof prints.

Mimzys club was a speakeasy, and she was fully aware of Alastor being a serial killer. She used to provide alibis for him when he was alive, which is a reason he covers for and protects her now in their afterlife.

Angel and Husk probably crossed paths in life, but are completely unaware of it. Husk was born and raised in Las Vegas, and the mob was very heavily involved with running most of the casinos. Angel being a mafia son, would have definitely been in Vegas a fair amount before his death.

Sir Pentious used to be seen as a very powerful and dangerous Overlord. Then technology and electronics were introduced, making his steampunk innovation style outdated and people started to see him as a joke. He tried to keep up with the times, but it very bad at it and doesn't understand modern things.

The reason Vox has so many aquatic things and likes sharks, is thematic. The envy ring is aquatic and Vox is a very jealous and possessive person.

Valentino uses his saliva and smoke to make people more pliable and willing to agree with him, this also includes Vox. This is partly how they got together, because Valentino saw Vox as a way to further himself and grow his own power.

Nifftys Soul isn't actually owned by Alastor. She sticks with him because of mutual benefit for the both of them. He's also such a bad boy that she's drawn to being around him and helping him with his schemes.

Husk lost his soul because Alastor made him play an honest game, while Husk was a notorious card shark. The little gold token on Husk's hat is the dealers chip from their game as a reminder.

Husk was not a nice overlord. His redemption is going to rely on him admitting how bad he was in the past and accepting himself as a changed person.

Charlie is the only one who still doesn't realise Alastor is a cannibal. Which is why she was surprised he had a friend in Cannibal Town.

Lucifer knew full well who Alastor was, he was just being an ass. He correctly assumed that implying Alastor was a nobody or not important was the biggest insult he could throw at him.

Angel Dust is always broke. This is partly because before coming to the hotel he was renting an apartment from Valentino with ridiculous rent, and he's still working/paying off his debt.

Before meeting Valentino, Angel was more mafia with his brother. They had a very turbulent relationship, since they weren't very close when they were alive due to Arakniss being more Conservative and serious like their father. They have barely spoken since Angel became a famous porn star, and Angel just assumes that Niss now hates him for being 'an embaressment'.

Part of the reason Angel let Valentino take his soul and lead him to where he is now, is because Val was the only/first person to really encourage Angel's more feminine side and sexuality, and find it attractive. He fell hard for the love bombing, and then had a very rude awakening once Valentino no longer needed to play nice.

Fat nuggets is very special to Angel. He was never allowed pets, and despite him being one of Vals love bombing presents, it reminds him of how happy he was before he learnt the truth about why Val was so loving to him.

[lovinglokilaufeyson]

Physique - A.A.

Pairings: Spawn!Astarion x Fem!Reader/Tav

Warnings: BG3 Spoilers, not really proofread, might trigger some insecurities for some due to content (body/breast comparison), Anxiety, Fluffy, Understanding/Comforting Astarion, Angst, Smut, Breast Worship, Nipple Play, Blood Drinking, Mutual Pining: Astarion x Tav are NOT established (yet), but have slept together in previous acts

Wordcount: 2,564

Summary: You and your fellow companions are out on the town in Baldur’s Gate late one night. After seeing a breathtaking bartender with nice breasts ogling over Astarion, you become insecure with your own breasts. Astarion shows you he doesn’t care what size they are, and proceeds to worship you for the remainder of the night.

A/N: I wrote this due to a recent breakdown about having smaller breasts and not feeling desirable enough in my own body. I absolutely think that breasts of all sizes should be celebrated, if anyone has had similar feelings, this could help you. Additionally, this doesn't only focus on breast size, but the reader's overall body image and insecurities. That being said, it could be relatable for multiple reasons. Also, keep in mind that Astarion is likely incredibly open to any size or shape of any body. He loves us all.

You and the crew entered the Blushing Mermaid, excited to partake in some unwinding given the day you all had. The tavern was very busy on this particular night, although there weren't many days where it wasn't. There weren't many days where you and the party got to celebrate for an evening either. After a long, fearsome battle, you were ready to wind down for the night, but also to have some fun.

That's where the alcohol came in. And lots of it too. Astarion had initially been weary of going to a tavern again, considering his past. But - Cazador was finished now. And to his relief, the environment that that party provided him with was much more pleasant than his typical bar experience.

One of the barmaids almost immediately approached him. She had bright, platinum blonde hair that bordered on white, similarly to his own. Her eyes were a breathtaking shade of blue, and she seemed to have zero hesitation in approaching the pale elf. Her bosom pressed against the lavender fabric that she wore, below a strand of iridescent pearls that reflected the little light that was left in the tavern. Her chest was pressed up by a bronze-toned corset, strung tightly together at her front. This accentuated the woman's already prominent breasts. She wore knee high boots that matched the tone of the corset, and a teasingly white ruffled slip that snuck underneath the purple fabric of the dress.

Typically, she was someone that Astarion would lure back to Cazador, and he hated being reminded of his past self in that regard. She was inarguably attractive, conventionally. So, when she approached him, he did feel pulled to charm her as he typically would. However, he veered towards casual conversation. Now that Astarion knew you, he had a hard time finding anyone else desirable. Even those that he would have once found deliciously stunning bored him. In his defense, they just weren't you.

You had fought by his side and showed him loyalty that he had never known before. You helped him destroy Cazador and set free the remaining vampire spawn. Initially, he was upset that he didn't ascend, but after several long nights stargazing with you and reminiscing, you both concluded that it was for the best. And, of course, in doing so, Astarion had fallen. He spent many nights dreaming of you, fewer were spent with nightmares filled about Cazador. However, you seemed to be a protective shield from these nightmares, so he frequently sought out your presence to comfort him as he fell asleep.

Unbeknownst to you, Astarion was quite smitten. Perhaps omit the word quite and replace it with entirely. Entirely smitten. There was not one part of him that didn't long for your presence always. You had figured that your "one-night stands" were entirely superficial, connecting you to each other's bodies. Though that was what Astarion intended initially, it soon turned into far more than that for him. He was in love with your entire soul, your body, your heart, your mind. Imagine how embarrassed he was when he realized, especially after he planned on simply charming you to trust him and never betray him. Because oh boy, like a fool he felt.

Even more he felt like a fool for not telling you yet. He simply winced when you were hit in battle, as if he could feel the pain you felt. He smiled at you like you were his sunshine, he would trade a life in the sun just to admire your glow, even if just for a moment. That was one of the things that helped him realize he did the right thing, not going through with the ascension. Not that you would have left him, but you certainly would not be as close as you were today.

He felt jealousy coursing through him whenever he watched you talking to one of the other party members for too long. He knew you weren't his property. Despite the few wondrous nights you had spent together, he hadn't admitted to any further feelings to you. He almost did after you defended him so drastically in front of Araj when she asked to have him drink her blood. "He's his own person" you had insisted, and Astarion believed that with those words, you had enlightened a glow in him that had never been seen before, even when he was alive. He felt loved. And he felt love for you, too.

From that day, he believed that without a doubt you had his back. He would make sure to have yours, as long as you'd let him. Honestly, the only reason he let his eyes linger on the barmaid for as long as they did was due to the fact that you would look phenomenal in the same outfit. He looked back at you, and his eyes softened at the sight. You looked as if you had just been body slammed by Karlach. You hadn't, but your constricted pupils told him that something had to be wrong.

Astarion grabbed his drink out of the barmaid's hand, and she stood stunned as he turned away in an instant, heading towards you. He kept his cool, trying to maintain subtly in case you were in danger. You were fairly used to innocent touches by Astarion, but this one felt different. He let his free hand settle on the small of your back, his drink in his other hand. You shuttered as he lent back to whisper in your ear. "Everything okay darling? You seem startled." You nodded timidly, which was unusual for you. Typically, you would meet him with a quip back, but he knew from this simple interaction that you were not yourself. "What's going on in that head of yours?" You couldn't respond. Not that you didn't want to, but more so that you were paralyzed in fear regarding the sight you just saw.

You knew that you and Astarion weren't together, as much as you may have liked to be. The barmaid was likely much more his type, judging from the entrancement he had entered looking at her. What you had - it wasn't anything special. You had merely slept together, and Astarion had only prompted those interactions for his own benefit. He told you that, and you still hoped things could be different. You had hoped that all of those late nights underneath the starry sky could change things between you. And yet, the time never came. In this moment, you felt fairly hopeless.

Astarion waited expectantly for a response from you. "I'm going out to get some fresh air" you spoke suddenly, pulling away from his grasp and taking your own drink in your hand, heading outside as fast as you could. Astarion was approached by the barmaid once more, who was aggravating him at this point, if he had to admit. "Listen, I'm not interest-" he began, but was cut off by her soft voice. "I know. You clearly have an interest in her. I was going to tell you to go after her. Any guy in this bar would be lucky to have her." The words surprised Astarion, as he expected the barmaid's persistent efforts to bed him for the remainder of the night. Astarion looked at her, a little less weary now. "How'd you know?"

"The way you look at her" she said. "The rest of the men in here were staring with lust and desire, especially when you went up to get your drink, when she was alone. But you, as soon as you thought there was something up with her, you looked at her with such concern, compassion, and love." Astarion nodded at this, the barmaid patting his shoulder and ushering him forward. There was a small part of him hung up on her mention of other men looking at you with lust in their eyes, but there were more pressing matters now.

He followed the trail to the exit, looking out the doorway and seeing your beautiful form, unfortunately there were many eyes on you at the present moment. Several men noticed that you had exited and popped out onto the porch with you. You hardly noticed; you were too busy comparing the outline of her chest to your own. You almost drew your weapon at the feeling of Astarion's hand sliding along to sit at the small of your back once more. You drew in a breath and stiffened before you turned to him in recognition. "Goodness you scared me." It was the most honest sentence you had said in the past 20 minutes, and he knew that. He had caught you off guard.

"Should we talk somewhere more private, love?" Gods, you hated it when Astarion used pet names like that. You felt your heart flutter just a little bit too fast. "Please," you spoke, and felt Astarion guide you to one of the private rooms located within the tavern, hidden behind a red velvet curtain that concealed the room’s contents. Astarion flipped a switch to indicate that the room was occupied.

Within, a crimson couch sat, contrasting the wooden floors and dark colored walls. In the middle of the room sat a wood coffee table atop an ornately patterned rug. A few lit candles were grouped on the coffee table, giving the very small room a dim light. It was - cozy.

You sat your drink on the coffee table, Astarion doing the same. He kept his hand attached to the small of your back as he led you to the couch. You both sat down, Astarion holding his hand on your shoulder now. "Darling, talk to me, please. You looked like you had seen a ghost earlier."

You took a deep breath. "I guess I just felt really insecure while looking at that barmaid, that's all" you admitted, and Astarion's jaw nearly dropped, but he managed to keep himself composed, following up with "why?" "There's many components, but to keep it short, I'm insecure about my- my- uhm" you couldn't finish, your cheeks flushed with embarrassment. Astarion clicked his tongue, which had a slight hint of disappointment in tone. "My boobs, okay?" You stuttered sheepishly, hiding your face in your hands as soon as you finished.

Astarion tried to picture the last time he had bed you. Although, the picture he had replicated in his mind couldn't do you justice. He leant towards your ear, whispering "Darling, I think you might have to refresh my memory. I can't remember your breasts being any less than perfect." You peered up at him, a puzzled look on your face. "Now is not the time for jokes, Astarion." You spat defensively.

"Not a joke in the slightest, my sweet. Will you allow me to jog your memory on your perfection?" Astarion looked genuine, which lead you to give a subtle nod. His fangs peeked out as he smiled at you in response. "Are you comfortable here, my sweet?" You nodded once more, as if you were afraid that words would break the vampire's decision.

Suddenly, Astarion's soft lips were on yours, his tongue following soon after. His hands reached for your corset, which held your bosom beautifully. However, Astarion was even more positive that your nakedness would produce even more breathtaking effects, as it did previously with him. Without even looking, Astarion was able to undo your bodice and strip it from you, so that only your dress remained. He continued to kiss you, then bringing his lips down to lay soft pecks along your neck, leaving a particularly long one against your bitemarks. He transitioned you to a horizontal position, with him atop of you, between your legs.

Before he headed lower on your form, he whispered "you're so beautiful, my dove." He felt your pulse quicken and started to recognize the affect that his praise had on you. He looked up at you, making eye contact and giving you a wink. This man would be the death of you. He released the dress from your bosom, leaving your breasts free for his eyes. "Now, I've missed these." He tutted, flicking your left nipple with his thumb while he brought his mouth to suckle on its partner. Your sensitivity level was clearly heightened, which he took full advantage of, swirling his tongue across your nipple and swishing it back and forth.

“Fuck, Astarion.” You moaned as he continued his pursuit of your pleasure via the excursion of your bosom. Before he let the right one go, he left a trail of love bites around your breast and across your sternum, before continuing his pursuit on the left breast, where he also left a plethora of bruises. If anything, he wanted to take this time to mark you. More importantly, to praise you. “My beautiful love, your boobs are perfect. You are perfect.” His words made you shutter once more. “Star…” Astarion hadn’t heard that little pet name from your lips, but he did enjoy it. “Hmmm, that’s new” he muttered.

“Darling, may I please have a taste?” He gestured to your breasts, showing you his fangs. “Please do,” you responded. You felt Astarion’s cuspids puncture your skin, digging into your breast tissue. The blood supply was scarcer than when he drank from your neck, but he enjoyed it just as much. It just meant he would spend more time suckling on you. Your blood seemed even more delicious than the last time he devoured it. As he suckled from your left breast, he flicked his finger across the opposite nipple.

“Gods, I love you.” Astarion perked up, removing his fangs from your tissue. Did you say that only for the pleasure that he was bringing for you? Did he mishear you? “Pardon?” He spoke while peering up at you. You sat mortified; a hand clasped over your mouth. “I- well” you stuttered out, in utter shock of what you just said. “Did you just say what I think you did?” Astarion inquired. “Depends on what you think I said, I suppose.” You responded shakily, uncertain of your words, but hoping to find a way out. “I love you?” He questioned, watching as your cheeks turned a faint hue of red, cueing confirmation. “Yeah…” you confirmed after a moment. “Truly?” Astarion followed up. If he was human, he would guess that his cheeks would look a lot like yours, flushed. You nodded, glancing embarrassingly at him, hardly making eye contact.

“I love you too, darling.” He admitted, sighing as the pressure was taken off of his shoulders. He shimmied upwards, meeting you face to face and placing another kiss on your lips. “Fuck, do I love you.” He said it again, smiling into the kiss as you reciprocated. These kisses had slightly less passion, although you knew you had a lot of passion to come. For tonight, with love confessions, you would be gentle with one another. The night ended with Astarion on his back, and you cuddled atop him, laying on the couch behind a red curtain.

Your companions were slightly worried at first, before getting confirmation from the barmaid that you two had went to have some fun together. “Well, at least they stopped denying it” said Karlach. The others nodded in agreement, having seen you pining after one another for the past several months.

[theyhavetakenovermylife]

“Det Modsatte” (Angst?)

2003!Michelangelo x reader

A/N: Felt like writing another songfic, as I’m honestly having a blast with these. I’ve also been looking at was to add the songs in my post, so you can listen to it, or at least parts of it, but it’s still a working process. So far I’ve started with a snippet from Spotify at the bottom of the post, for those of you that are interested. Anyway, hope you’ll enjoy🧡

Song: “Det Modsatte” by Mumle.

Danish song with English translation provided. "Det modsatte" means "the opposite".

Due to American drinking laws, all characters are at least 21.

Warnings: Horrible girlfriend?, smoking, cheating?

Til nytårsaften / Det første møde med / Dit nye vedhæng og hendes attitude / Hun siger dig ingenting / Så hvorfor skal hun med? / Jeg hader, at hun tror, at du en dag ku' glemme mig.

(At New Year’s Eve / For the first meeting with / Your new pendant and her attitude / She doesn’t tell you anything / So why does she have to come? / I hate that she thinks that you one day could forget me).

After making friends with four mutant turtles, with the youngest of them becoming your best friend shortly afterward, you pretty much expected anything to happen at that point. But even after several years of friendship, with you and Michelangelo pretty much doing everything together, there was one thing you didn’t expect.

But then, as you, the turtles and all your mutual friends were planning a New Year’s party at April and Casey’s place, Mikey dropped the news on you: Mikey had gotten a girlfriend, and he wanted to bring her for the party.

At first you were shocked - more so shocked at the strange pit that was forming inside your stomach. But you pushed it aside, smiling at Mikey, telling that you were excited to meet his new girlfriend. if she made your best friend happy, it was worth getting along with her for him. Especially given the nature of Mikey and his brothers, partners most likely didn’t come easy to them. So you decided to give it your best shot. Who knows, maybe she would be really nice.

New Year finally came around, with fireworks shooting outside the windows of April and Casey’s apartment. Mikey arrived a bit later than the rest, with his new girlfriend following with her arm linked with him. And og boy, she was… something. You didn’t want to judge a book by its cover, but she was… not what you had expected. Especially not for someone like Mikey. She smiled way less than him, and ever once seemed to enjoy any of his jokes. At one point you swore you could hear Mikey whispering to her, asking her what was wrong, to which she gave him a sharp and dragged out “nothing”.

As the night continued on, something became very clear to you regarding Mikey’s girlfriend. She wouldn’t let you and Mikey talk at any point during the party. You really couldn’t help but notice the way she always seemed to place herself between you and Mikey, cutting off your conversations. But when you caught a sharp look from her, it was very clear what she thought of you. She did not want you anywhere near her boyfriend - your best friend.

Og hendes synspunkt er noget for sig selv / Får appetit ude, og så spiser hun hjemme / Er du nu sikker på / At du ka' stole på hende? / Men når kalenderen er fyldt, når det bli'r midnat.

(Her viewpoint is something for itself / Gets an appetite out, and then she eats at home / Are you sure / That you can trust her? / But when the calendar is filled, when it becomes midnight).

As the New Year’s party went on, one thing became very clear - Mikey’s new girlfriend had very different ways of viewing the world from those of Mikey. While Mikey was happy and warm, with a bright smile, and a love for hearing what other people had going on, she was closed of and cold, her resting expression looking like she purposely tried to create something that could best be described as a resting bitch face, and a total disregard for what other people were saying. She even looked like she was bored when she heard you or the others talk, only lighting up ever so slightly when Mikey spoke. But even that wasn’t much.

It got to the point where you and the others shot each other looks, as if you all were thinking the same about her, wondering why Mikey would want to get involved with that. It almost spilled over to outright rage, when you overheard her asking Mikey if he could come and cook for her after the party, while you all ate the dinner April had made for you, with Mikey’s girlfriend not having touched any of it.

Mikey, who was still eating when his girlfriend asked if he could cook for her, seemed slightly confused, yet not catching on to what was happening at the table. He offered to cook for her the next day instead, to which she told him - with a pointed look - that she had other plans. That didn’t go unnoticed by anybody, with a slight awkward tension building around the table. But still Mikey didn’t seem to notice, nor did he seem to notice the irritation the girl as his side was causing you. And just as you found the girl irritating, you found Mikey’s seeming oblivion frustrating.

For du ved ikk' hvor hun er, når hun ikke er derhjemme / Så når du finder ud af hvor, ska' du høre det igen.

(Because you don’t know where she is, when she isn’t at home / So when you find out where, you’re going to hear it again).

You and the others’ first meeting with Mikey’s girlfriend wasn’t much of a success, yet he didn’t seem to notice, or chose not to. Nor did he seem to notice the death stars she gave you, whenever you hung out with him. But with Mikey suddenly wanting to spend time with his girlfriend, during the periods of time she finally declared that she had time for him, you didn’t see your best friend as much as you used to. But that didn’t stop you from hanging out with his brothers in the lair. Just because Mikey was your best friend, it didn’t mean that you weren’t very close with his older brothers.

One day you found yourself in the lair, playing video games with Mikey’s brothers. It was fun. You were laughing and enjoying yourselves, when Mikey suddenly came in, looking confused and somewhat distracted, staring at his phone with an unsure expression.

You asked him what was wrong, watching as Mikey seemed more and more anxious. That was not a common sight for someone like Mikey, and it honestly made you nervous. But then Mikey asked if you or any of his brothers had heard from his girlfriend. He didn’t know where she was, and she wasn’t answering his calls and texts.

“Again?”, Raph asked. “I thought you talked it out with her last week, after she turned that same trick on you”.

“It’s not a trick”, Mikey said, checking his phone again for a text or a call that still hadn’t gone through. “She’s… just hard to reach sometimes”.

“Yeah, she’s just hard to reach”, Donnie mumbled, giving Mikey a flat expression, as if to tell him that he believed very little in that statement. You couldn’t help but feel bad for Mikey when you saw how his expression faltered for a moment, before looking down at his phone, with still no notifications.

Hun er det modsatte af alt, du ku' ha' tænkt dig / For hun skider på principper, som du altid har haft / Så når du tænder sidste smøg, inden I tager hjem / Så skal du huske, at jeg aldrig vænner mig til-.

(She’s the opposite of all, you could have wanted / She shits on principles, that you’ve always had / So when you light your last smoke, before you go home / You should remember, I will never get used to-).

After Mikey got a girlfriend, it was actually quite hard for you to spend time with him like you used to. He was very often busy with plans, with her for some reason only being able to see him, the times you and he would usually hang out. You had little doubt as to why, but Mikey still didn’t seem to notice how his girlfriend purposely tried to make it hard for the two of you to hang out, changing her plans the moment she heard he was going to see you. To everybody else other than Mikey, that she was trying to keep you apart. But she couldn’t always do that.

Once again April had a celebration at her and Casey’s place, meaning that you and the turtles were invited over for a few drinks, good vibes and maybe a few board games. Mikey’s girlfriend couldn’t be there. She had some kind of plans with some of her friends, and that was all she told Mikey.

It was nice. It was fun. You laughed and joked, and you even had a great time with Mikey. But suddenly, Mikey’s phone started ringing. It was her. Mikey excused himself, before walking away from the table you had been playing board games at, picking up the phone. It wasn’t long into the phone conversation, before Mikey stepped out on April and Casey’s fire escape, to continue the phone call. Not a word to you or the others.

After some time, you started to feel worried for Mikey. And so, you decided to go out and check on him. You found him out on the fire escape, elbows on the railing and his shoulders slouching, a lit cigarette between two of his three fingers on his right hand. You stopped for a moment. You have never known Mikey to smoke, so why was he suddenly doing that? Was it something she had gotten him into? You couldn’t find any other explanation. She always smelled of smoke and her voice was harsh, as if she had been smoking 20 a day.

“Is everything okay?”, you asked, leaning against the brick wall.

Mikey hesitated for a moment, taking a drag from the cigarette. You really didn’t like that sight. That was not the Mikey you knew. There was no smile, a strong contrast to the Mikey you had played board games with just moments ago in April and Casey’s apartment. He looked stressed, and you wondered if she was the reason why.

“She had a fight with her friends and is all out of it. When I’m done with this I’ll be heading to her place to make sure everything’s okay”, Mikey said, nodding toward the cigarette in his hand. You nodded, nervously biting your lip. You probably shouldn’t have asked, but you did anyway.

“Did she get you into smoking?”

Mikey froze for a moment, before looking down at the tobacco in his hand. He did not answer you, but gave you a small shrug. You took that as a yes.

Hendes humor og syge energi / Og når du tror på, at hun kunne være min gode veninde / Så når du spørger om, jeg vil hjælpe med at finde en ring / Så skal du huske, at jeg aldrig vænner mig til hende.

(Her humor and sick energy / And when you believe, that she could be my good friend / So when you ask me, if I want to help you find a ring / You should remember, I will never get used to her).

You and Mikey stood in silence on the fire escape, with Mikey’s cigarette only growing shorter and shorter with each drag of it.

“You know”, Mikey suddenly said, breaking the silence. “Maybe you two should hang out one day. Maybe you could become good friends”.

You were shocked at Mikey’s idea. Had he really not noticed the way she looked at you? Had he really not noticed how she would do almost anything, to make sure that you and your best friend wouldn’t spend time alone together? Was Mikey really that blinded by her?

“What makes you say that?”, you asked. But when Mikey started avoiding your eyes, you became worried. “Mikey, what’s going on?”

“I just thought it would be great for you to get to know each other, before…”, Mikey flattered, seeming nervous with what he was about to say.

“Before what?”, you asked, pressing him further.

“Before I ask you to help me find a ring”, Mikey finally let out, still not looking at you.

Hun er det rene vanvid, når I er alene / Den mørke sandhed, for kaos jagter hende / Og starter kappestrid / Som du ikk' kan vinde / Når det ender, ka’ jeg smil’, og sige "hva' sagde jeg?"

(She’s pure madness, when you’re alone / The dark truth, because chaos is hunting her / And starts battles / Which you can not win / When it ends, can I smile, and say “what did I say?”)

It was as if that comment snapped something inside of you. Up until that point you had kept your opinion to yourself, feeling bad for Mikey whenever his brothers would make comments about his girlfriend, thinly wailing what they really thought about her. But now, that last bit of barrier was not enough to stop you anymore.

“You can’t be serious”, you said, sounding quite a bit harsher than what you had intended to.

Mikey looked at you, seeming somewhat shocked by tone, as if he truly hadn’t thought you would react like that. “What do you mean?”

“You’re telling me that you seriously don’t see what she’s doing?”, you asked, feeling your last bits of patience disappear. Mikey frowned, seemling forgetting the cigarette that was halfway up to his mouth. “Mikey, she’s the complete opposite of you”.

“Sometimes opposites attract”, Mikey said, shrugging his shoulders, still seeming confused.

“You can’t be serious”, you said, finally letting your build up frustrations out. “Mikey, she’s not good for you. She’s never been good for you. Hell, she even got you smoking to cope with the stress of being with her! She won’t even let me hang out with you, and you really don’t seem to care or notice! Your brothers see it, and I know if you think about it a little longer, you will see how they have been hinting at it over and over again. So no Mikey, I don’t want to become her friend, and I don’t want to help you look for a ring! And if I have to be absolutely honest, I think she’s mad. I think she’s a horrible human being, and I often wonder why someone as nice and wonderful as you would get with her in the first place!”

Mikey didn’t say a word. Instead he stared at you for a moment, his mouth parted in shock. He looked hurt, yet there was something in his eyes. Something that kept him from getting mad at you, but instead actually thought of what you had told him.

Mikey dropped his cigarette, before turning towards the railing, mumbling something along the lines, that he would go check on his girlfriend.

“Go ask her about it”, you said before Mikey could make his way off the fire escape. “Ask her about it and see what she says”.

Mikey didn’t say anything. Instead he sat on the railing for a moment, before taking a jump, disappearing into the night, heading for her apartment.

For du ved ikk' hvor hun er, når hun ikke er derhjemme / Så den dag hun stikker af, ska' du høre det igen.

(Because you don’t know where she is, when she isn’t at home / So the day she runs away, you’re going to hear it again).

It wasn’t long after that you decided to go home yourself, suddenly feeling very tired after your talk with Mikey. The others seemed very understanding of your sudden departure, having heard your emotional outburst at Michelangelo. Even Leonardo came and placed a comforting hand on your shoulder with a small smile, as a way to say that he understood. You did the thing many of them had been too scared to do.

You got home, feeling absolutely drained, kicking off your shoes before dropping down on the couch, rubbing your forehead with a sigh. You started to wonder if this was it. Was this the end of your friendship with Michelangelo? Would he go home to his girlfriend and decide to cut you out? Would he listen to her and whatever crazy reasons she had for not liking you? That was at least what you feared.

It was there, sitting in your own unsurety and fear, that your phone started ringing, the name of your orange clad friend lighting up your screen. Confused and slightly concerned you picked up the phone, holding it to your ear.

“Hello?”

“Hey…”, Mikey’s voice sounded on the other side, slightly out of breath, wavering a bit. “Can I come over?”

“Why? What happened?”, you asked, feeling worried for your friend.

“I- I tried to talk to her”, Mikey said. “And then she left. Can I please come over?”

Hun er det modsatte af alt, du ku' ha' tænkt dig / For hun skider på principper, som du altid har haft / Så når du tænder sidste smøg, inden I tager hjem / Så skal du huske, at jeg aldrig vænner mig til- / Hendes humor og syge energi / Og når du tror på, at hun kunne være min gode veninde / Så når du spørger om, jeg vil hjælpe med at finde en ring / Så skal du huske, at jeg aldrig vænner mig til hende.

(She’s the opposite of all, you could have wanted / She shits on principles, that you’ve always had / So when you light your last smoke, before you go home / You should remember, I will never get used to- / Her humor and sick energy / And when you believe, that she could be my good friend / So when you ask me, if I want to help you find a ring / You should remember, I will never get used to her).

There was an awkward silence when Mikey entered through your window. He just kind of stood there, his head low, his eyes avoiding you. But the awkward silence didn’t last long before you offered him a seat next to you on the couch. He in turn gave you a weak smile, before heading to sit next to you. Here Mikey sat in silence, staring at his hands, as you asked him what was going on.

“I did as you said”, Mikey finally said, his voice small and low, as if he was scared of what would happen if he spoke.

“And what did she say?”, you asked, keeping your voice soft and low.

“She got… very mad and started screaming”, Mikey said, dragging a hand over his face. “She ended up leaving the apartment. I don’t know where she is right now”.

Du ku' ha' valgt en kassedame eller hjernekirurg / Du ku' ha' valgt en dealer på det store casino / Du ku' ha' sunget hele natten med en sangerinde / Og alligevel valgt' du hende.

(You could have chosen a cashier or brain surgeon / You could have chosen a dealer at the big casino / You could have been singing all night with a singer / And you still chose her).

“I’m sorry to hear that”, you said, honestly feeling bad for your terrapin friend.

“No you aren’t”, Mikey said in a strange chuckle, still not looking at you. “According to you, this is probably the best thing that could happen”.

“Mikey”, you said, turning your whole body towards him. “Just because I don’t like her, it doesn’t mean that I can empathize with you”. Mikey momentarily glanced at you through the corner of his eye. It was not a harsh look, not a side eye by any means, but more of a cautionary look, looking at your body language to make sure that you were speaking the truth. “My frustrations probably got the best of me, and I didn’t say it to you the right way, but what I was meaning to say, is that you can do so much better, Mikey. She isn’t good for you, but you’re amazing Mikey”. You placed a hand on his shoulder, watching the both of them lose their tension. “You could have anyone, Mikey. You could choose anyone, and yet you chose her. And that made me sad. I really don’t understand how or why you got with her in the first place, but it made me sad to watch you with her, seeing how she treated you, me and your brothers. My intention was never to make you feel bad, but to help you. Maybe I should have said something sooner, but it felt wrong, but today I just couldn’t hold it back anymore. I’m so sorry if I hurt your feelings, it was never-”.

Hun er det modsatte af alt, du ku' ha' tænkt dig / For hun skider på principper, som du altid har haft / Så når du tænder sidste smøg, inden I tager hjem / Så skal du huske, at jeg aldrig vender mig til / Hendes humor og syge energi / Og når du tror på, at hun kunne være min gode veninde / Så når du spørger om, jeg vil hjælpe med at finde en ring / Så skal du huske, at jeg aldrig vænner mig til hende.

(She’s the opposite of all, you could have wanted / She shits on principles, that you’ve always had / So when you light your last smoke, before you go home / You should remember, I will never get used to- / Her humor and sick energy / And when you believe, that she could be my good friend / So when you ask me, if I want to help you find a ring / You should remember, I will never get used to her).

You were suddenly cut off by the feeling of Mikey’s soft lips against your, his hands on the sides of your head, titling you ever so slightly. You let out a small startled sound, but found yourself relaxing against him shortly after.

Mikey’s lips were soft and molded against your perfectly. You would be lying if you said you hadn’t been wondering about how Mikey’s lips would have felt against yours. In fact, you had done that several times. Yet you had always pushed that thought to the back of your mind, acting like it had never been there in the first place. But now, here you sat with Michelangelo on your couch, your lips connected together, all these hidden thoughts came back in full force.

Your lips moved together in soft motions, the world around you forgotten with your arms wrapped around each other. That was when Mikey’s phone started ringing, causing the two of you to separate.

Mikey pulled out his phone with an annoyed sigh, when he saw the name of the last person he wanted to talk to lighting up on the screen. Yet he picked not, not trying to hide his annoyance in the slightest.

“What do you want?”, he asked annoyed, one of his arms still around you. You tried not to smile, when you saw him roll his eyes at the voice on the other side, as she asked him about something, while complaining about something else. “Yeah, figure that out yourself. We’re done”, Mikey said before hanging up, tossing his phone somewhere on the couch, ignoring it as it started ringing again. You and Mikey soon found that it was easy to ignore a ringing phone when your lips was engaged.

[venture4treasure]

“Of course I dream of more”

Words: 952

Premise: Servant!Reader washes Noble!Venture hair. They have a conversation. 

Warnings: A bit of forbidden love and mutual pining, but otherwise nothing! 

“Lay down,” you instruct, gesturing at the cot – the edge of the bed frame is pressed against a tub of water. 

Venture does as you tell them, tilting their head back into the water. They try to look at you, but you’re a bit too far out of their peripheral vision. 

Pulling over a stool to sit down across from Venture, you dip your hand into the tub of water, it’s a pleasant warm temperature. You splash water onto dry locks of hair before reaching to brush back their bangs, submerging them. You’ve barely done anything and you can see dirt muddying the clear water.

“Thanks for making it warm,” Venture relaxes. 

“As opposed to… cold?” You raise a brow, “why would it be cold”. 

“Some of the other servants don’t bother with warm water,” Venture pouts, “I’m starting to think they hate me”. 

“I’m starting to think I might hate you,” you comment, brushing your hand through their hair and watching debris wash out, “how do you even get so much filth into your hair? Weren’t you supposed to be sword training today?” 

Venture laughs awkwardly. 

“Sloan…” you drawl. 

“Well… I may have been helping out in the mines instead today”. 

“The mines? Isn’t that below your station?” 

“They tell some of the best stories! Besides, father doesn’t need to know”. 

You sigh in disbelief, switching to massaging soap into their hair and head. Venture stops themselves from whatever they were planning to say to lean into your touch. You chase off the silence by humming fragments of a song you heard in passing – it’s not good singing but Venture doesn’t mind, they like to hear your voice. 

“So, do you ever think about doing something different from this?” Venture asks, waving their hand in the air.

“What do you mean?” 

“Like, don’t you ever want to try something different? A different line of work, like being a scholar! God, I wish father would’ve let me just study instead of trying to shape me up into some kind of perfect heir to the family – that’s what Mauga’s gonna be anyways!” Venture groans. 

You chuckle at their whining. 

“No, not really,” you answer, “I don’t think there’s anything else I can do to earn money. I am very lucky and grateful to be doing this in the first place”.

Venture goes quiet, their expression drops into a thoughtful one. They turn over the idea of needing money to live in their mind, it’s a concept so far detached from their day to day life, they don’t really understand it. There was always food if they were hungry, nice clothes for any occasion they could think of, and there was always a roof to go home to. Everything they needed was always there within arms reach.

“If you had the money, what would you do?” Venture wonders, both to you and themselves, “like, a lot of money”.

“I’d find a teacher to show me how to read and write,” you answer without hesitation, “and then… maybe I would travel to different kingdoms. I’d like to dance in those big ballrooms at least once. And… I’d probably find someone who treats me well to settle down with, in a nice and safe house close enough to the city market”. 

Venture glances up at you, taking in your face. Your eyes sparkle dreamily, a soft smile on your lips. Their heart aches at the sight combined with your words. 

You shake yourself out of the fantasy, “but my life now isn’t so bad either, it could be so much worse”. 

“What is your life right now?” 

“Right now, I work for your family, it pays enough to support me. One day, I’ll probably marry someone who’ll want kids, and I’ll try to raise them right…” you slightly cringe at your own reality, “protect them if I have to. I just hope I marry someone decent…” 

“You don’t plan to choose?” 

“I don’t really get a choice,” you shrug, “I have nothing to my name, I’ll probably just marry someone like me. Have kids so there’s someone to support me when I grow old. That’s how it usually goes”.

Venture doesn’t like your answers, they want to see you as happy as you were to share your dream. 

“Sit up a bit please,” you nudge them forward, and Venture pulls their hair from the dirty water so you can rinse out the soap. You comb their hair and lightly scratch their scalp as you clean away the soap. 

“Mann, that feels so nice”.

You make a noise of acknowledgement. 

Finally you’re done with their hair – you always forget how much of a pain it is when it gets dirt tangled in it. You wrap a towel over it so it doesn’t drip onto their clothes. 

“Okay, I’m done”, you announce, getting up to stretch. 

 Venture almost makes a noise of disappointment.

“Hey,” Venture calls out your name lightly, “would you like it if I taught you how to read and write?” 

You turn to face them, eyebrows furrowed in confusion, “why?” 

They walk over to you, taking your hands into theirs. 

“Because I think you deserve to have a chance at happiness,�� they smile, and there’s so much more they want to say, but they keep it to themselves. 

Your face heats up from the touch.

“Ah-” you stammer, “that would be nice, I’d really like that. Thank you”. 

Venture glows at your reaction, smiling wide. 

“Okay, now help me dry my hair, pleaseee,” they beg. 

“You can do that yourself”.

“I’m going to shake”.

“Do not threaten me,” you shoot back.

Venture holds your stare with determination in their eyes and you falter. 

“Okay, fine!” 

Author’s Note: I realized afterward that this setup doesn’t make sense at all and there’s so many logical issues with the concept but I really wanted to write it anyways. Spare me :( 

Mauga is Venture’s older brother in this. 

I just wanted an excuse to write about Venture’s hair. It’s so fluffy and needs to be appreciated. And they most definitely would shake to dry themselves and splash water everywhere. 

[igncrxntripley]

Hey shawty…

-slides a crumpled up dollar bill and a few buttons-

…Dominik smut? 😁

bully

a/n: *takes dollar bill and buttons in exchange for this hot piece of garbage headcanons*

mentions: NSFW 18+, smut, dom!dominik, top!dominik, fem!reader, sub!reader, bottom!reader, oral, edging, ruined orgasms, kissing, lovebites, mutual orgasms.

taglist: @thesithdiaries @cassiesgreta @roseheartsworld @theworldofotps @babybatlover @ripleyswhore @auburnwrites​ @obl1vionblackhart @emogoblin-666​ @hereliespumpkin @blxxdshxteyes @neptune-lover​ @bunnysmyname​ @i-have-issues-lol @ares-athena​ @thatonepansexual2000​ @witcherfromwallachia

let’s be so real...beneath that sweet face and his caring mannerisms, there's a bully deep down in dominik mysterio that only comes out at very specific times.

he knew exactly what he needed to do in order to get under your skin. dominik was smart, no doubt about that; but you hated how he knew every little fucking button he could push to piss you off.

this time was no different; he'd finally come home from being on the road for weeks on end, and you wanted nothing but a romantic night between the two of you. dominik. however, had other plans.

what were those plans? him stuck between your legs, his mouth pressed to the sensitive bud that had been begging for his attention for weeks, but not letting you gain any kind of satisfaction.

he'd get you close, right up to the edge as you were about to finally reach the high you'd been anticipating from dominik since he went on the road...but he'd stop right before you could get anything.

after almost half an hour, dominik had already ruined a handful of orgasms on your end to the point where he had you trembling and whining underneath his touch.

"i-i fucking hate you..." you'd tell him, your hands gripping his hair for dear life as his own hands would wrap around your thighs to keep you from squirming away.

dominik was an asshole; every time you'd beg or tell him you hated him, he would look up at you and laugh.

not only that, but dominik had a way of using his words to not only piss you off even more, but turn you on more than you already were.

"aww, you hate me? that's so cute, babygirl. keep telling me that." he'd tease, and you'd groan in complete and utter disdain as his tongue would continue to torture you. "if you wanna keep telling me that, then i'll just go ahead and end this right here. i won't be nice and give you what you want."

dominik wasn't bluffing either. he'd done it before - leave you in a puddle of your own arousal and tears, having only given you the bare minimum and not nearly enough to let you receive any kind of satisfaction for being an asshole right back to him - and you learned your lesson after that.

eventually though, after your begging turns into quiet chanting with mumbles of please...please... mixed in with your own moans and other incoherent words, dominik would give in. but not without doing it his way.

if dominik is going to make you finish, he's going to do it in a way that gives both of you pleasure; especially if he's been gone on the road. he's just as desperate as you are, but he's not going to show it just yet because this is about you.

once he's done with his mouth and decides that he's had enough of teasing you, he always comes back up for air to give you gentle kisses on the lips and cheeks. "you've been so good for me, yeah? such a patient girl, chica." he whispers against your skin, letting you know that the gentle dom you fell in love with is still deep down in there. "just a little bit longer, amor."

that being said, he takes his sweet time with you; gently pushing himself into you, holding your body flush against his as you adjust to him after all this time away, and whispering those same gentle spanish words in your ear as he slowly starts to move his hips. this gentle side of dominik was your favorite part of him - it always reminded you why you loved him, even though he knew what buttons to push.

dominik isn't going to rush any part of this. even though you're moaning and begging for him, he continues to whisper sweet words and leave gentle love bites on your skin to let you know he hears you, but that he's also not ready for these moments to end just yet.

but eventually, dom lets you know with a soft kiss to the lips that he's ready. "cum for me, chica. te amo, mi amor."

both of you are holding one another tighter than ever before and your moans synchronize, your nails scratching down his back to leave your own marks that show he belongs to you just as much as your his. dominik works you through every bit of it until you come down from your highs together, and the two of you exchange the goofiest pleasure-filled smiles you could manage.

dominik knows he was an ass in the beginning to, so he always follows up with the gentle reminders that he's only playing. that usually means lots of cuddles, ordering food for his first night home with you in weeks, and a nice warm bath...but just as he's taking care of you, you're always planning your payback in the back of your mind.

[thefloorisbalaclava]

I I if maybe you could give me a bit of angry König 🥺.

Just I just wanna leak some important Intel and get abducted by that mountain of a man and have my little pussy ruined in an confined space. I would love mutual pining co-workers to enemies having some hate sex. I need him to call me an ossi, a filthy piefke verräterin. He's maybe still bitter about his hochkönig origins.

It is so soothing to read all these fics, finally dirty talk that makes sense in my head. Even if at times it's a little bad. Thank you thank you.

König x f!reader

Warnings: kinda rough sex, angry könig, kissing, cunnilingus, fingering

You shouldn't enjoy the way he glares at you--those gorgeous eyes of his boring into your very soul. You should be afraid, and though your heart does beat a little faster, it has nothing to do with fear.

You had been told that König got along with everyone, but you soon found that once you lose his trust, there is no coming back.

It was one lousy mistake. The one time you didn't listen to his orders and everything went to shit. He blamed you for it and now you were dealing with the consequences.

No matter how hard you tried, he drifted further away.

The truth is, he has a broken heart, one that he shouldn't have in the first place.

But you don't know that. How were you supposed to know?

You hate the tension that has grown between you two. You hate how he looks through you now instead of at you how he used to. You wanted your König back, but he was making it nearly impossible.

You have to corner him, you thought. Good idea, but how the hell will you corner a man who can shove you aside with one swipe of his arm?

You'd think of something.

--

The opportunity presents itself when walking past the gym at an ungodly hour. You both didn't sleep well, so you aren't surprised to see him in there. You walk in quietly and watch him for a moment, worrying your lip between your teeth as he grunts with each rep.

"Hi," you say quietly.

He stops and turns to you. "Hello." He hesitates but only shakes his head and turns away again.

"What are you doing up?" you ask.

"You know the answer to that," he says without turning around. You walk into his line of vision.

"I couldn't sleep either," you tell him. "Can we talk?"

"About what?" he asks, but you know that he knows.

"About the fact that one little mistake I made has you treating me like shit," you say a little angrier than you wanted.

"It was not a little mistake," he say, breathing heavily. He stands and walks away from you.

"Talk to me." You jog to catch up to him and block his path.

"No."

You look around for something, anything to stop him. "Spar?" That gets his attention. You walk over to the mat and wait for him.

"I don't want to hurt you," he says even as he makes his way over.

"I'll be fine." You take off your hoodie.

"Remember to..."

"Go low," you say, "I know."

"Why are you doing this?" he asks.

"Because I want to. If you're this angry at me, then...let it out."

He freezes in place and glares at you. "Are you asking me to hurt you?"

You shrug. "I don't know what else I need to do to make you---"

He storms up to you. "You have lost your fucking mind," he snaps. "To think I would intentionally hurt you..." Suddenly, he grabs your face, smushing your cheeks. You only look at him.

"I'm sorry," you mumble.

He lets your face go, only to grab your wrist and drag you out of the gym and down the hall. He opens the first door he sees, and it looks to be some sort of storage closet.

"What the hell?" You eye him angrily.

He takes a few deep breaths, his big hand on the closed door.

"You want to know why I am so angry with you?" he asks, still not looking at you.

"That would be nice," you say in a snappy tone.

"You compromised so much," he says, "All because you don't fucking listen."

"I know what I did, König! How long will you punish me for it?!" you shout. He claps a hand over your mouth and just stares at you. You look into his eyes, showing no fear. He drops his hand slowly and then pulls up his sniper hood before crushing his lips to yours in a desperate kiss.

"Mm!" you whimper, tucking your hands under his hood into his hair. You both begin stumbling around until your back finally hits a shelf. The things on it shift precariously, and you both pause. After a few breaths, he kisses you again, pushing his knee between your legs.

"You...are a bad girl," he says, his voice rougher than usual. "Aren't you?"

"Yes," you breathe.

"I think that is why I like you so much." His eyes flicker between your eyes and your lips. "I want you."

"You can have me, König..."

"Any way I want?" he asks, pushing himself against you.

"What do you mean?"

"I...I want to be so deep inside you that you never forget. I want to leave you pleasantly sore so that every time you move, you think of me."

"König," you moan.

"Not here," he says before opening the door slowly and looking out. Suddenly, he's pulling you along again, but this time it's to somewhere familiar—his room.

His room was always so inviting to you. It always smelled nice and was tidy. You usually had time to look around a sit for a while, but this time there was none of that.

As soon as the door is closed, he is on you, pressing so close it's like he's attached to you.

He pulls his sniper hood off in a hurry and swallows your gasp with a desperate, angry kiss. "Are you ready?" he asks, but your brain is so muddled that you're not sure how to answer. Suddenly, his hand is down the front of your pants.

"Ah!" you squeal as he walks you toward the bed, hand staying firmly in your pants. He only takes it out to get you on the bed and practically tears your pants and panties off. His fingers are on and in you in no time as he presses his forehead to yours.

"I'm going to take you," he whispers, "...but I don't want to hurt you."

"Just...do what you want, König..."

He hums happily, sliding himself between your legs to taste you. You can't remember the last time he did this to you, but it is happening now, and it is perfect. He still takes his time getting you ready despite being rushed and frantic.

He doesn't bother taking the rest of his clothes off, but just him having his face revealed to you is enough to make this intimate.

You help him get his belt and buttons undone before he pushes you back down and lifts one leg to his shoulder. You can feel the cool metal of his belt buckle against your too-hot skin.

"When was I inside you last?" he asks. He pushes into you slowly, and you both cry out. "Fuck...I want to stay inside you forever." With one deep thrust, he's entirely inside of you. Your toes curl and he chuckles.

"More! Harder!" you beg

"The Königin gets what she wants," he growls before grabbing your other leg. He grips your hips tightly before thrusting into you fast and hard.

"Oh god! Oh fuck!" you cry. "Fuck me, König." You say it with the perfect accent, pushing him closer to the edge.

"How does it feel?" he asks.

"Amazing," you whimper.

He spreads your legs so he can lie between them now. You wrap them around his waist, and he continues fucking you into his mattress.

"On top," he grunts. "You...on top..." He grabs you and turns you with him, so you are riding him now. You try to keep the same pace. You can for a time, but when he sees you getting tired, he plants his feet flat on the mattress and begins thrusting up into you. Your eyes roll back and you throw your back.

"You look like a goddess," he murmurs. His thumb finds your clit, and he sits up to be closer to you. "Come for me." His calloused thumb rubs you firmly, and you cry out to him. "Yes, my love. Yes," he hisses.

Your fingers claw at his back and shoulders as he pumps into you. After a few more, he grunts loudly and groans your name. He rests his head on your breasts.

"Did I hurt you?" he asks, moving his head just enough to look up into your eyes.

You shake your head. "No, König." You try to move off him, but he grabs you tighter.

"Nein...no...stay a little longer. Please?"

"Of course." You run your fingers through his hair, and he sighs.

A little longer turns into the rest of the night and when you wake up beside him, he's already smiling at you.

"Good morning," he says. "How do you do it?"

"Do what?"

"Look beautiful even as you sleep. Most people are...not so graceful when they sleep," he says, and you laugh.

"Do you want me to go so you can...shower and everything?" you ask. You both look down at your half-dressed bodies and laugh again.

"You don't have to leave. I was hoping we could do that together." He takes your hand in his and laces his fingers with yours.

"A shower sounds nice," you say, squeezing his hand.

[Masterlist]

[shintaru]

I won’t write fanfics ever again.

A couple of mutuals thought I was back I never deleted my account so I could return to writing. I did want to delete it but so many people still reacted with what I already wrote so i decided to leave my account up so people who loved what I did write could still read it. I probably won’t be active on here just occasional posts about windbreaker. Once windbreaker ends I’ll change the password and I won’t log back in.

I’ve grown to hate sharing any fandom I’m in on social media because people are very rude. They are quick to attack, cancel, dox, threaten, and etc all over fictional stories… its ridiculous I’ve been on fandom social media since I think 2014 and I’ve been told I should kms numerous times over artists I had a fan page for over liking characters that were either villains or morally gray and for reading BL. I got told idiotic things over posting about a yogurt… I also got attacked for making dark jokes I love dark jokes and I never once made fun of anything bad like someone passing away. I’ve had people become obsessed with me and threaten me, I’ve also had people twist my words in here when I meant to genuinely be nice and let them know they aren’t alone and they get vicious with me because of that.

I’ve had people say we can’t support certain artists or their companies but never explain why but the second you say anything about liking their music they get nasty because apparently you are supporting bad people but no one will inform you. I understand you can do your own research but a lot of the things people are talking about I never heard it never popped up when searching the artists it’s only listed on Reddit so a lot of it’s buried in the internet.

I’m just very tired of being in fandoms online cause you can never enjoy it cause people lack common sense I’ve had someone get rude with me on here for writing about a fandom they hated. Just block me and don’t read my post cause idgaf it’s my page I’m not going to cater to you that pmo cause it’s not hard to block something you disagree with. I don’t like fanfics about real people it’s fine if it’s their character like Ryan playing Deadpool I’m ok with but not fanfics about Ryan himself I’m not hating on anyone who writes or reads those that doesn’t bother me at all I’m ok with that. I personally just am uncomfortable with it so if that pops up on my explore I block it I never hate on the writers or readers because that’s cruel to do when I’m the one that doesn’t like it but I have enough common sense to do that these other people don’t. If it’s their own personal preference or issue with something not everyone has to join them in that.