#skinny reader

[iamnotdeadyet]

"The duality of man"

GETO SUGURU

[ionlyeverwantedtobeyourequal]

I need kpop x reader fics where the reader is insecure about being too skinny😭 like I always try to wear hoodies and jogging pants bc I’m too small and I don’t like it

[mushyroom-stories]

Imagine Husband!Alcazar

Rated 18+ — mature short content ahead

Husband!Alcazar xF!skinnyreader IMAGINE

CW: mature content, fluffy scenes, swearing(?), use of Google translate.

a/n: english is not my native language so pls be kind if I have misspelled anything, and this is actually my first time writing some imagines just hope I won't mess it up. Enjoy reading(or not):)

✧ Husband!Alcazar that loves you so much, he decided to spoil you every single day. He buys you expensive gifts, gifts that are not yet released, gifts that are rare to find or even hard to buy. You always told him, "Baby, don't spend that much money on me." Well, after you said that, let's just say you forgot you even mentioned it. Who could blame you? He was pounding into your cunt like a wolf in heat. Feeling up your walls so good, making you forget everything you say or even mentioned, just how he likes it.

✧ Husband!Alcazar Who just absolutely loves groping your boobs. You have body insecurities, but he is right there, usually touching all over you reminding you that your always gorgeous, making sure nothing is left untouched. "Fuck, Милая, you look gorgeous today," he says, having eyes on you with hunger and literally being able to become a predator anytime just by looking at you wearing that dress(a/n: that he bought just for you, did I say it's limited edition?). "You always say that, babe, but how do I really look?" you ask, somewhat sounding nervous. His big hand strokes your flat chest, groping it affectionately. "I told you-you're gorgeous, Любимая. Forget the party. I want you right here, right now." He's a sweetheart, although you can hardly walk for two days afterwards, but who cares?.

✧ Husband!Alcazar Who will take risks being able to fuck you anywhere-on the stairs, kitchen, living room, porch, backyard, his office, etc. This man has a high sex drive and can go multiple rounds without even finishing after the first two. That just shows how much he loves you, pleasuring you first until his satisfied❤️

✧ Husband!Alcazar Who's very clingy with you. The second you go to the bathroom after finishing up, he immediately carries you to the bed to cuddle. This man is not shy about showing PDA with you; he’s always touching your hand, shoulder, lower back, hips, and hugging you from behind. In short, he is very clingy with you.

✧ Husband!Alcazar Who buys you lingerie on your birthday, valentines, Halloween, Thanksgiving, and Christmas. But oh, how he absolutely loves the lingerie that he bought for you on Halloween and Christmas. Pounding into your cunt like a mad man, your moans and skin slapping filling up the room, "that's right Милая, cum for me." He said in a lowly tone, his fingers playing with your clit, you were shaking letting out a big moan as you came down from your orgasm, his cock and fingers now coated from your cum "fuck, ты выглядишь так великолепно, кончая на меня вот так" before following suit after you, filling you up with his hot seed. Sigh, thoughts.😮‍💨

[iceprincessviviane]

Why do you note that the reader is skinny? Just curious!

Hi!

I wanted something to write for very skinny readers ^^

I don't see a lot of that specific content and I can pretty relate to the case.

Thank you!

[eccentricallygothic]

| Too Sweet |

Description: You and Steve try to put 'it' in for the first time after his serum procedure. 

Pairing: Soft-Dark 40's Post-Serum Steve Rogers | Lover!You. 

Warning(s): Soft-Dark!Steve, 40's misogyny and courting bc let's be so fr, obsession, daddy kink, allusions to spanking, dumbification, power imbalance, corruption kink, fluffy smut, p-in-v penetration that y'all are STRUGGLING with, dash of breeding kink, they love each other, smut with plot.  

Note: @chxrryhansen 's new Too Sweet Steve edit is responsible for this and she doesn't even know it, pfft!

.

"Steve!" Your protest is half giggle and half whine as you wince before landing a punishing smack to your lover's shoulders. "Ouch!" His body is also vibrating due to the humor that the two of you find in this strange situation. 

"Come on, baby" he rasps out against your ear, his elbow that presses into your pillow besides your head causing it to dip towards itself. "I am trying my best here, bear with me a little" try he sure is doing. You can almost feel him fighting against his impulse to just fuck all and push inside your tiny entrance that has never faced a girth this big. 

"I knowww~" you whine as you press your knees against his sides that have become wide and muscular since the procedure. "But it's still ouchie" Steve sighs as he freezes the little bit of pushing that he was doing.

You feel bad, you really do. 

Because it is as hard for you to hold back as it is for him.

Pressed up against your lover that you haven't properly had like this in a week, your bare skins nearly leeched to each other's, one of his rough manly hands fondling your breasts as the one he's holding up his heavy body with strokes your hair to comfort you, the feeling of his stern muscles digging into the tender insides of your thighs and then his cock that you need to save your life at this point so close to your weeping walls yet so far away that you can lose your mind from the frustration. 

But it just hurts so fucking much! 

You had always thought your lover's size to be a decent one because it kept you satisfied and very happy. 

But now…

This. 

You did not want to be an ungrateful brat, as Steve would say, because you weren't a stranger to the valor that he held for his country and you had always done your best to cheer him on so you weren't to be misunderstood.

But good Lord above, they had swapped your cotton candy lover for a rough and tough beast who couldn't bear you being out of his sight for more than a few minutes. 

It seemed that whatever voodoo they worked in that fancy machine had also amplified his obsession with you, like everything else. 

Steve sighs as he kisses your cheek softly. You understand that he's a man and he has his needs that he has been compromising for a week because you recoil at the sight of his cock each time he tries to seduce you. "I've already stretched you out with three fingers, baby. At this point I might as well put my fist in there" you're on thin ice and you know it. 

No man is as considerate as he has been all these days as it is. 

Your cheeks burn and you flush hotly in embarrassment, letting out another whine as a result before landing a flustered punch on his arm. "I- It's not my fault if your fist would still be smaller than your dick!" Though your tone is one that has gotten you bent across his lap more times than you can count, the manner in which the indirect praise boosts his ego saves you this one time.

And his fingers weren't the easiest thing in the world either because they've grown three times their size!

"Aw, is Daddy's cock too big for your little baby pussy, honey?" You cannot help but let out a horrified guffaw as you cover your mouth, eyes wide. 

"Oh, my GOD, Steve!" He is grinning at how appalled you look because of his obscene words. "Stop with that! I told you the other day that it's not right!" You have no idea how, but two months ago your lover had picked up this strange pet name for himself that he liked to use whenever you two were having an intimate moment. 

"Oh, but baby" your back arches in an instant as you grunt and feel your claws fly to his shoulders that they dig into. He has started to push again. But your pussy is nearly as stubborn as he is, it seems. Because neither wants to back down. "Who put it in your pretty little head that you can decide what's right and wrong around here?" 

Your thighs tremble at the authority in his tone and you whine, feeling your ass cheeks clench at the way the girth of his tip feels around your sore band of muscles. Fuck, this is like losing your virginity all over again but only worse. 

You almost feel mad at yourself.

Because you're so wet and prepared.

Ready.

Just why can't it go where you need it most?!

"N- No…" The smell of his shampoo hits your nose when he dips his head into the crook of your neck to make a new love bite, both to try and distract you as well as mark you as his. "D- Didn't mean that, Shtevie, sowwy~" you mumble meekly and he deeply hums against your skin. 

"Good girl" if it weren't for the way in which one of his hands lovingly caress your scalp, you would have teared up due to how small you suddenly feel. "Now shush up for Daddy and let him do this bratty little pussy in" an involuntary gasp leaves you again but you suppress it by kissing his moist temple so he can't hear it and think you are being disrespectful. Your baby pussy has irritated him enough this past whole week already. 

"Owiee…" You grunt again as you feel it breach its way into the initial curve as it has been doing for hours now. "S- So big, Daddy" what? No! You're not like your naughty lover! Y- You're just trying to somehow calm him down so you don't get in trouble! 

Like you did when you initially did not respond to his unrelenting advances in school and he ended up scoring really low in a test because of that so he dragged you out of drama class to bend you over and teach you a thing or two about manners and how to treat those who are nice to you. Then he made you apologize, kiss his cheek and cook him dinner at your house to make it up to him. 

You are glad he did that though, because Steve is your once in a lifetime and there can never be another like him. 

He just knows best. 

But that doesn't mean you are okay with getting punished just because your pussy is too tiny!

"Good babygirl" your lover grunts against your nipple that his mouth is latched onto now, hips doing their best to not damage you but still weasel his cock past the hard round shaped barricade of your pubic bone. "I know it's scary but you can trust Daddy because he knows that if that pretty little pussy can push out his brats one day, it can surely take this cock too." Steve loves how you shudder under him at the thought but still answer him Yes, Daddy. 

Because you are all his to do with whatever he pleases.

That is the reason why he shook hands with HYDRA and wiped out SHIELD the day he was transformed. 

Because HYDRA had promised him a comfortable future with you where he would not have to part with you for too long but still provide you the life that you truly deserved as his sweet little girl who loved and accepted him in a state that everyone had treated as a laughing stock. 

You were worthy of the world.

And he was determined to give it to you. 

.

I didn't mention the hydra plot twist up there because well, surprise! 

[daintylovers]

oh yeah

[ronearoundblindly]

Some Steve for you to enjoy 🥰🫶🏻

Gurl, this f***ed me up! I wanted to try to make it a snippet of Item 107 or The Cinder King, but the muses were just like "you know what you need? emotional damage." So now here we have my first semi-legit period piece (which has zero useful era detail eh) and truly is just the carrier for skinny!Steve love. Hint: It's thirsty, smutty love with hardly any plot ANGST.

Hello and welcome to Lexi's most self-indulgent fic ever. It's got everything: crippling insecurities about my real-life stuff, horniness unmatched even if there were sex pollen shot directly into their faces, and everyone is touch-starved. \o/ Enjoy! WC probably close to 3k but idk because I'm too afraid to look back at it. *slams post button*

Turned away again, Steve "4F" Rogers steps out of the recruitment center to see you standing there, staring up at the posters promising glory.

People hustle around you, several even knocking into you, but you remain transfixed, invisible. You're clutching your purse like a lifeline.

Down one step, worn-through shoes barely hiding every seam in the cobblestone, Steve has to get closer because that's the direction of home and a lonely, empty apartment he can hardly afford. He has to pass by. He has to, but then he sees the amber light reflect on trails of tears down your cheeks.

He has to stop.

"Miss?" Steve clears his throat, his own arm smacked by a rowdy man who then swats at your ass just as Steve tries to get your attention again.

You jolt and turn to him in surprise, hand flying up to cover a sob, sweeping to wipe the evidence of emotion from your face.

Fast--faster than Steve really processes--he's shouting for the guy to apologize before the guy makes to advance, Steve presses himself between you and the asshole still laughing at disrespecting you, and then he--Steve--is getting shoved into the alley with you still at his back.

It's dusk. The alley is nearly black. Steve can hear you crying but he's slipped on the stones wet from an afternoon rain. He scrambles to right himself.

Amidst the cries, he hears grunts of anger and resistance, terror creeping into his chest as Steve thinks you're being assaulted.

"Piece of shit," you bite out. The silhouette of you hurling your bag at the man's face repeatedly is clear from where Steve crouches, backlit as you are by the movie theater marquee.

Then the guy is down on the ground, too, being stomped on by your two-inch heel. "Piece of fucking shit."

"Woah," Steve jumps forward to hold you back. "Woah, language, ma'am. Let's go. Just leave him."

He has a weak arm around your waist, but you kick at the man one more time for good measure, hissing "liar" before turning to follow.

Your hand in his, Steve hurries through the streets, picking the ones he knows are busier but maneuverable to make sure you're not being pursued. Each time he looks back, he sees your sinking face, more tears, more exhaustion, and he makes a flash decision.

He doesn't stop until he locks the door of his apartment behind you both, and you break down on the bare wood floor.

"You hurt? Did he hurt you?" Steve's boney knees land a few inches from yours and he leans over, his long fingers brushing over your pinned hair and stiff curls that dislodged in the commotion. "You're alright. You're safe here."

Where your legs crumple underneath you, your slip lays over your thigh, uncovered by the skirt pooling on the other side of your hip. He can see the outline of a garter strap and the top of your stocking beneath the silky material. Steve's always loved pretty, delicate things. He also loves the faint bulge of flesh around the restraints.

There's meat on your bones, something to hold onto, and he shakes his head, chastising himself for noticing all the wrong things about the crying woman in his home. His lonely, empty home.

Steve attempts to think of anything other than your body.

"Do you know him? What'd you call him a liar for?"

You sigh in defeat, hands flopping into your lap, and confess that it wasn't about him so much as a man not here anymore. Gone. To war. You tell Steve a rambling tale of excuses and snide comments, of a parting that left you wondering why that man--any man--bothered to be with you in the first place, of a surety that you weren't ever wanted.

"I thought he loved me but he lied."

Steve sits cross-legged in front of you now, enthralled and utterly confused. Why would anyone...?

"That's the worst part," you exclaim, voice cracking. "I don't know. I'll never know." Your fingers fiddle with the hem of your skirt. "I heard today that he died. Don't know where. Don't know when. And I hate that I still care."

"But he wasn't good to you," Steve soothes and wraps his hand around yours, "and he wasn't good for you."

All you do is shrug and hide your face. Tears falls to the fabric below your eyes and seep through in dark patches.

He scoots forward and lifts your chin with a gentle nudge. When your puffy red eyes meet his, he's struck by how lucky he feels to see you like this. It's odd to think someone who knew you more and for so much longer couldn't feel infinitely more attached and protective. You're so vulnerable, so open, so...

"You're beautiful." Steve's tongue swipes over his dry lips. "You're so beautiful."

The words are loaded heavier than tanks and pack the punch of a bomb. He can tell you don't truly hear him by the way you shrink and shake your head out of his hold.

"Don't do that," he pleads. "Please don't hide from me."

"You don't know me."

"No, but I--"

"You don't even know my name!"

He sits back and offers his hand.

"Hi, I'm Steve. It's nice to meet you, and I think you're beautiful."

"That's stupid," you lash out, bitterly spitting the half-hearted, heart-breaking words. "You must be an idiot, Steve."

It's not the first time he's heard it, but it is the first time he's not mad at hearing it. He believed those things, too, long ago, before his mom convinced him to see the possibilities in one's struggles. If you perceive it as an obstacle, it is an obstacle. Perceive it as an opportunity instead and use it. Those aren't her exact words, but Sarah Rogers has so many different ways of teaching the same fundamental lessons that Steve can't remember the phrases anymore.

He can remember the feeling. He remembers seeing both obstacles and opportunities.

"Is it stupid to want to touch you?" he whispers. "Because I would love to touch you."

The question is purposefully leading since he knows from your story that's exactly what you long for. It'll be more impactful if he shows you he longs for that too.

Slowly--so slowly--his hand comes up to your cheek again, his fingers tucking behind your neck.

"I don't want your pity." There's still bitterness but no power behind it. You gently shift closer and meet him halfway.

He's kissed girls before, he's fooled around, and he has, in fact, slept with one girl. They went all the way--twice--which means Steve knows what it is to be pitied intimately. He knows what it's like to want something so badly you don't care what the motivation is.

You deserve to know his motives.

"I don't pity you." His focus falls to your quivering lip. "I want to make you happy." He's close. He's so close his breath rolls warm over your face. "I want to make you smile."

A soft whimper leaves you just as his mouth arrives.

"I want you," he says into the kiss.

Instead of fighting, you grab at his jacket, pulling him until you're both falling into the stand lamp. You taste of salt and something sweet he can't put his finger on. Steve resolves to put that on the list of things to find out about you.

He keeps kissing you as you both fall, the lamp now wedged at an angle by the side table. Despite the tangle of tongues, Steve keeps his hands to himself. He doesn't quite have enough answers.

"What do you want, beautiful?"

Hesitant as he pulls away, gripping worn leather like your purse in the street, your eyes dart between his. You're a dream beneath him, but that sounds too selfish to voice.

"May I..." Steve is already panting "...get you off the floor? More comfortable?"

Maybe you haven't been able to say the words, but Steve doesn't need more convincing to know you want him.

He could tell from the way you pawed at him. He could tell from the multiple times you crashed him into the walls along the hall to makeout more. He could tell from the way you melted like hot butter at his every returned touch, but finally, you two made it to his bed.

He'd be embarrassed by the lumpy old thing if there weren't a curvy, luscious dame standing with wide legs at the foot of it, letting his tie slip through your hands as he sits stunned.

Steve swallows thickly.

"Let me see you." It comes out as more of an order than the hopeful question he intended, but when he sees the command shiver through you, he feels six-foot-six and powerful as all hell.

You two share the burden of unbuttoning all of your layers, spinning you a few times to release front and back and side to side. His hands spread and roam to relish each garment, each moment, until you're top half is naked.

He stares, fierce blue irises muted by the dim light on his bedside table, 'beautiful' on his lips every second you spend with your finger yanking the knot of his tie and sliding off the bond. When you lean to pop his shirt buttons, your breasts hang in his face.

Steve stops you by your wrists, peaking up at you through his long lashes as he takes a nipple in his mouth. He keeps thinking it--beautiful--while his tongue sweeps flat across pebbling flesh. Each subsequent swirl has you melting again, pressing more of you to his face, dragging nails up his chest, sighing long and deep. When he switches to the other side, your fingers bury in his hair. He takes his time to worship you, tracing his own fingertips around the hem of your slip and garters.

He doesn't get impatient, if anything Steve feels greedy for wanting more, for praying this lasts forever, for needing all you're willing to give.

His teeth graze your skin in wanton lust, and you flinch in surprise, knocking you off-balance.

You fall to your knees on the mattress, straddling Steve's slender body beneath your hot core.

"Sorry," you mutter, wriggling to stand, forcing Steve to wrap his arms around you and halt your retreat. "I'm sorry. I don't want to hurt you."

"You can sit on me morning, noon, and night," he rasps. "I won't complain. I'll thank you, beautiful."

He groans pathetically when you relax, the grind of your ass making his slacks pinch tighter and tighter. Steve lets his head fall back on the sheets, eyes fluttering shut. The army might not want him, the world outside may forget he ever existed, but you see. He could get addicted to this feeling. He might get lonely without it.

Steve isn't strong enough to keep hold of you, but your weight never leaves, his erection still slotted between your cheeks. His mouth drops wide when your hips roll. Steve whines when you rise up enough to resume unbuttoning him. His lungs and heart go into overdrive, but even so, Steve doesn't want you doing all the work.

He flips you--using the sum total of his strength--and shuffles backward to stand, ripping the tails of his shirt from beneath his belt and shucking off his trousers. That part he could have been more patient for, but Steve smirks and brushes away the hair falling in his eyes, chest heaving from exertion.

He's pleased to see you watching him, ogling his body without judgment. You look like you want to eat him alive, and he is perfectly fine with that.

His palm lands on your knee to sneak higher beneath your slip, nimble fingers popping the clasps along your stockings and hooking through the band of your underwear. You lifting for him is all the permission he needs. Steve leaves your slip, garter belt, and stockings in place, and in a cheeky twist, he lets your underwear hang off one of your ankles, kissing your inner thigh, pushing your knees wider for him to fit.

He throbs in his boxers at the sight of your sex.

Nerves roil in his belly at the idea he is solely responsible for your pleasure. As he glances up to you, propped up on your elbows with a fearful and expectant gaze, he sees a poster promising honor and glory, a service to be proud of, and for the first time, he has doubts.

You see it in his eyes.

"Steve?"

He wants to participate and show that he's worthy of you.

This isn't about him though, and Steve Rogers is nothing if not dedicated anyone other than himself.

"Right here." He snaps back to reality, laying his hand to your thatch of hair and gently teasing his thumb along your folds. "I'm right here, beautiful."

It's an honor to touch you. He's proud of the moan elicited because he strokes over your clit rhythmically. The glory of watching you writhe is all his.

Steve's breath stays rapid as yours picks up. You're fisting the sheets, slick pooling beneath the pad of his thumb, helping him pick up speed. He dips into you, tests the breach while pushing his boxers down, and crawls over the edge of the bed. Like magnets, you guide each other higher till the pillows cradle you.

You're a broken record, repeating a desperate loop.

"Steve," you whimper.

"Won't ever lie to you." He captures your lips again. "Want you so badly. I'll want you all the time."

Steve doesn't understand why you won't talk to him, so he slows, eyes questioning and brow furrowed. You have to see. The light is right there.

Bottom lip trapped, you still say nothing, but your arms raise to his smooth face and plead in the silence.

He wants the same thing. He wants to feel. Not just the sting of rejection. Not just the slippery, rough stones through his shoes. Not just the empty ache inside. He wants to feel like someone cares whether he lives or dies.

You care even when you don't want to, but Steve can earn you, your care, your smile and your tears. He'll get up and come home to you every time. He needs you to come home to.

Otherwise, this is a lonely, empty apartment. Otherwise, he is a lonely, empty man.

Your hands bring him close, lips pausing just before contact while Steve sinks two fingers into you.

You gasp. His fingers curl. His thumb goes back to work. You kiss him with what little breath you can hold between muted cries until Steve notices your roving hands tug at his waist.

He wants the same thing.

Sitting back on his heels, Steve drapes your thighs over his, his slick fingers spreading you. He's mesmerized watching his cock disappear inch by inch, and the caress of your walls shuts down all other brain function. All he can do is slide against you, bent into your soft body, your breasts padding his jerky thrusts, the base of him perfectly laving the hood of your clit in the growing mess.

You're wet, and he's driven wild by the need to make you come. He tries to sit up again, to play with you properly, but he's stopped by the weight of your legs crossed behind his ass, the strength of your thighs anchoring him in place.

Steve takes huge, deep breaths through his nose because he won't last concentrating on how your body bounces and ripples, plush beneath his boney form.

You get wetter, looser in a welcoming way that spurs him to drive himself home faster. He sucks in air, though it's futile once his heavy balls start to seize.

Suddenly, you shout, stretching to push yourself completely flush with his pelvis, and he has to pull out, keeping aligned with the cut of you as aftershocks make you mindlessly hump him. Steve's cum shoots all over his belly and your chest, some drops dampening what clothes he didn't discard, stains of joy replacing stains of sadness.

His chest might explode. He's gasping, taxed beyond his naughtiest dreams, head lolling toward the ceiling with his throat high.

He feels your legs fall away, and Steve hopes for an instant that you embrace him even though he might suffocate in the process.

The envelopment never comes. The world is fuzzy and too warm beyond him.

He hears the sink in his bathroom turn on just as he lands palms-down on sweaty sheets. He tries every trick he knows to calm down. The water still runs after all the time it takes for him to recover and stand. The closer he gets to the doorway, the clearer the sound really is.

Sobbing.

"Beautiful? What's wrong? Did I--"

The faucet squeaks off, and you barrel out, nearly running him over, your arms covering your chest and your disheveled hair hiding your face.

"What are you doing? Are you cold?" Steve tries.

"I'm disgusting," you hiss in a mad dash for the pile of clothes on the floor.

He trips over his feet to stop you, corralling you as best he can, but you're quick. You certainly have fight in you. Steve only want to show you you do not have to fight him.

"Come back to bed," he commands hopefully, grabbing your wrist as you scoop up your wrinkled dress. "I should clean up, but please, please, come back to bed."

There is something broken and fearful in the way you finally meet his eye. He's torn apart, shredded down to nothing in a single look. That's not how a feral animal sees the world; that's how an animal, abused and betrayed, locks the world out.

Your protection is what you really took off for him. Your thick armor is what Steve got past.

"I didn't lie." He lets go of you and steps back as calm as his rasping breaths can manage. "I want you. I want you to stay." He wonders whether he ought to cover himself, too, because perhaps total vulnerability makes you more nervous.

So he presents himself as an opportunity, not an obstacle.

Steve finds his boxers a foot away and says one more time, "I hope you stay."

Unmoving, your eyes follow his walk to the bathroom, and in the split second he's looking down to turn the tap, you're gone.

Disappointment floods his system, but like all the other stamped failures in his record, Steve goes through the motions of caring for a body that thwarts his desire to live at every turn. In fact, it tries to die so often, he's always surprised to find himself here, staring at this mirror again, wondering why he gets back up.

He's also surprised to find you here, in the bed with the sheet pulled up to your chin, nodding to the side table where you've placed a cup of water.

The tiniest of genuine smiles curves your lips.

Steve's home is neither lonely nor empty anymore. He could cry.

A/N: this got so incredibly out of hand... I'm so sorry. But also, thank you for reading!

Tags: @supraveng @1950schick @patzammit @whiskeytangofoxtrot555

@yiiiikesmish @ashesofblackroses @brandycranby @buckysprettybaby @ellethespaceunicorn

@late-to-the-party-81 @bigtreefest @mistressmkay @astheskycries

@rogersbarber @blogbog710 @bucky-fricking-barnes-reads

[teddybeartoji]

Attention please 🗣non sexual nudity with bf/bsf satoru...

ATTENTION!!!!!! ATTENTION!!!!!!!!!!!!!! 🗣🗣🗣🗣

going skinny dipping with best friend!gojo.

it's a warm sunny day and satoru has dragged you outside. he heard about a new hidden hiking trail and he obviously wanted to check it out with you.

so, that's how you find yourself on a beautiful-beautiful forest trail. the birds are singing their little love songs above your heads as you let satoru lead you through the woods. sweat dribbles from your temples and your feet are beginning to hurt but you're not complaining.

you can't. you can't complain when satoru turns around and shows you his bashful smile, letting his dimples shine freely. his cheeks are completely flushed and his hair is starting to stick to his forehead and he just looks so fucking good.

"you gotta keep up with me! c'mon-c'mon!"

you roll your eyes at his words. "i am literally on your ass, satoru."

"ohhh, sexy!" he winks at you and laughs when you flip him off. you follow him up the little hill and you're met with gorgeous scenery. the sun is still high in the pretty blue sky with no clouds anywhere in sight and the trees paint almost a perfect circle around the shore of a lake.

"satoru! you didn't tell me we could go swimming!" you scream at him and he hears the pout in your voice.

your eyes are glued to the sight before you, making you miss the way satoru stares at you. "i didn't know! i didn't know! i didn't know!"

"wait..." you face him with a quirked brow. "what do you mean 'you didn't know'? you didn't properly look up the trail beforehand?"

he's quiet as his expression tells you everything you need to know and he earns a slap against his chest.

"what is wrong with you?! what if we got lost?!"

"it's just one trail? one road? how would we get lost?" he questions, surpressing his laughter at your fake-angry tone.

you just shake your head at him. "i hate you."

he sends you an air kiss back and you thank the sun for successfully hiding the growing tint on your cheeks. dick. you brush by him and start making your way to the wooden dock that floats in the water. satoru watches how you skip down with a smile on your lips and his heart is doing flips in his chest. he watches you drop to your knees and reach your hand in the water before turning to him with an even bigger grin.

"it's so warm!"

"yeah?"

you nod excitedly and immediately start stripping your bag and your clothes, leaving satoru staring at you like a dumb fish out of the water. "what... are you doing?"

"going swimming, duh." you rip off your shoes and your pants, only leaving you in your shirt and socks.

"but..."

you stare at him with a big grin, the corners of your eyes crinkling in the hot sun. "what? you scared?"

"wha— i'm not scared." satoru stammers back, fiddling with his fingers, clearly a little flustered. he's silly.

"get naked then."

"i—"

"or don't. i'm not pressuring you, but i am going in." you take off the socks and the shirt and satoru glues his eyes at the lake behind you. unable to hold back your laugh, you tease your best friend. "yeah, if a little skin gets too scary for you, just look at the water."

the tips of his ears grow red and he drops his bag in defeat. "i am not scared of you or your body, alright?"

"look at me then."

satoru gojo - the man with thee biggest staring problem in the world cannot hold eye contact for the life of him right now. and your cheeks hurt from smiling.

his best friend is standing a few feet from him, only clad in their underwear and well... how is he supposed to keep eye contact? it's not like he likes you or anything. it's not that at all.

"do you like me or something, satoru?"

it's not that at all.

you laugh behind your hand and watch the heat bloom on his face.

"you don't have to come in, it's okay. i'll make it quick, yeah?"

taking a step closer, satoru's breath hitches. you raise your hand to swipe over his face, closing his eyes with a giggle and he wraps his fingers around your wrist with a pout. "i wanna come too."

"yeah? you wanna come too?"

"see, sometimes i think you're just so much worse than me." satoru tugs on your hand when you try to run away, keeping you close to him. the flush on his cheeks seems to be permanent but the corners of his lips are starting to curl upwards again. "you're so much worse actually."

"oh, nooo... i'm soo terrifyingly funny.... nooo....."

the sun has nothing on your bright big smile as you blink up at him.

"are you gonna join me then?"

he nods.

his grin widens when you finally yank your hand from his grasp and take a few steps back toward the edge of the dock. "well, c'mon– get naked, stupid."

he starts by peeling off his own shirt. "you're stupid."

"i'm faster though!" without giving him another second to catch up, you pull of your underwear and jump into the lake. submerged under the refreshing water, your heart beats louder than ever, giddy from sharing this moment with satoru. you poke your head back out and push the water from your eyes with a smile that reaches back behind your ears and are met with a stumbling satoru trying to take off his socks.

"hey, you had a head start!" he's jumping from one leg to another and he looks so cute. "dick!"

laughter echoes over the lake and through the woods, a sound resembling the lovesongs of the little birds that live there. he removes his boxers and then he's already cannonballing into the water right next to you.

his soaked head of hear pops up and he's pulling in big breaths of air, making you choke on your own giggles.

"OH FUCK! THAT'S NOT WARM AT ALL." he splashes you, reveling in the smile lines that rest on your skin. "i think i lost a couple of inches."

his joke makes you actually cough and his head falls back toward the sun, eyes closed, as he bellows out a laugh.

"oh no, poor little satoru..." his head whips towards you and you take the moment to splash him back.

"what did you just call me?!"

you let out a loud shriek when he suddenly starts swimming to you and you decide to dive in order to escape his wrath. it just feels so good. the water washes off the built up sweat from the hike and gives you life.

coming up for air, you have a second to look for satoru before he's bursting out from under the water, shaking his head and hair at you like a dog.

"you're dumb."

"you're an idiot."

silence.

satoru counts the freckles on your face and you count the stars in his eyes.

"aren't you glad i dragged you here, hm?" he wiggles his brows at you, expecting another splash that never comes.

a soft little mhmm is what he gets instead. full of fondness and admiration; the scenery, the sun, the water, the boy before you —

you are glad he dragged you here.

+ thank u nonnie for this cute little idea<33333

[shaisuki]

my blog is clearly for chubby/fat/plus size readers. just don't request for a skinny reader. please. the whole x reader community is almost catered for that category without being explicitly stated.

[chaoticbardlady99]

Nobody's Fool (Astarion x GN! Reader) Part 1

Synopsis: You approach Astarion at the Tiefling party and get rejected. Everyone else and Astarion knows he made a mistake, but you certainly don't.

Author Note: I LOVE Shadowheart- okay. Love her, but she is also my favorite hot girl rival in my fiction. No idea why. I just also love the idea of her being best friends with a Selunite by the end of her journey (or ship her hardcore with an Oathbreaker Paladin)

CW: Sad boi rejection hours, mentions of sex, mentions of Dead Dove.

Based off of a post by @golden-baby

(I also listened to Avril Lavigne’s Nobody’s Fool while writing this and it’s very good if you haven’t heard it)

(IDK Who this gif belongs too, but it is not mine)

You have always been the first person to throw yourself into a situation and help others- it was what had drawn you to being a Cleric of Selune in the first place. 

 You miss being a young cleric studying the life domain under the stars and the bright moon. You miss not feeling so terrified. 

 All this tadpole has brought you is anxiety and fear, you have a feeling it will be okay. You are here for a reason and you trust that Selune needs you to trust her. 

 Meeting Shadowheart had certainly confirmed that- she obviously was plummeting down the wrong path, but she has also flipped this thinking on you a few times. Only, you cannot understand following a Goddess as cruel as Shar. She has obviously brought serious damage to Shadowheart’s life and you are determined to support her- whether she gets away from Shar’s doctrine now or fifty years from now, you will be here to help her when the time comes.

 In spite of your differences, you actually go to the same spot and pray together- farther away from each other, but the sentiment is still there. Occasionally you drink together after a particularly weird or bad day. You find you both can talk about your religious beliefs and you are open to hers which in turn has begun to show her how to be open to your religious doctrine. It’s nice to have someone to talk about the bigger powers at play- even if that person opposes your Goddess so viciously. You don’t really care- you know followers of Shar are hurt people hurting people. They need love just as much as the next person. 

 Lae’zel has been a tougher nut to crack, but you have provided sympathy where you can and support her. You promised her that you would all head to the mountains and search for the Creché. If the cure is there- she will get it. That has made Lae’zel feel better a few times.

 Karlach just wants a good life and to talk about the joys of Life, Gale wants someone to talk to about magic and help finding magic items, and Wyll just wants to feel accepted and like he is still the mighty Blade of Frontiers.

 Then there is Astarion.

 You have been head over heels for the man since he knocked you to the ground and questioned you. You could probably stare at him forever if it wasn’t so Gods damn creepy. 

 You practically bend over backwards to help him- far more than you do for others, anyhow. He seems to like you and you have definitely thought about asking him to go on a date with you at some point. 

 But then you think about how not romantic having a tadpole in your head is and nix the idea. 

  You listen to him whenever he speaks to you, any books you find usually end up going to him. Gale is still pretty upset about the Necromancy of Thay. 

 Any new short swords, daggers, arrows, bows, crossbows, armor, potions, etc- you name it, you probably already gave it to him. You often think you may be far too obvious with your affections, but it’s the only thing you know kind of appeases him.

 Every decision you make he despises and makes a point of mocking you for. Karlach is often telling him to knock it off, but that usually just makes it worse so you just laugh it off even though it hurts. You just remind yourself that he lived as a slave for the last 200 years and you are the first to admit that your Goddess failed to save him. You don’t know why, but it is what it is. Maybe one day he will see that not all people are his ruthless master. 

You also let him drink from you every three or so days. If he is injured in battle- you are first to offer him another drink. 

 Astarion calls you, “Darling '' from time to time and you thought that might be something, but you also heard him call Karlach and Shadowheart that too. 

 You feel so conflicted when you go to bed- he seeks out Shadowheart and never you at bedtime. He spends all night talking to her about Gods only knows what. You are certain some of it is mocking you, but you try to remain optimistic. He wouldn’t do that- you have been nothing but kind to him. What could he even say?

 Tonight is the first night that he is by himself and not talking to Shadowheart. You can do it- just go up and ask him if he would like to take a walk with you. No big deal. 

 “Hi Astarion,” you say softly, “are you having fun?”

“No- no thanks to you, by the way.”

 Your smile falters slightly, but you rebound. 

“I’m sorry- I wasn’t trying to ruin your night.”

 Astarion rolls his eyes and flashes a smile that makes your breath catch. 

 “I suppose it couldn’t be helped, Darling,” he says with a dismissive wave, “you and all your do gooder nonsense was bound to get us here eventually.”

 You smile brightly- happy with the positive step forward. 

“How rude of me- I forgot to ask- how can I help you this evening?” 

  This is the big moment- you can do it! 

“I was-“ you clear your throat, take a deep breath and avoid his eyes, “I was wondering if you would want to go on a walk with me on the beach later?” 

 Astarion blinks a few times and you think you see the hint of a smile- it makes you feel slightly optimistic. 

 Until it turns into a snort and a laugh he can’t hold back.

“You are so naive,” your heart drops, “whatever gave you the impression that I would want to ‘go on a walk’ with you?” 

 You frown, a lump in your throat is beginning to form and you feel so embarrassed that you wouldn’t even know where to begin to explain yourself.

“I- you’re right. I’m sorry.”

“I am glad we could clear that up.”

“Me too,” you say with a forced smile, “good night.”

“You don’t have to-“

 You walk away- all the horror and heartbreak simply being far far too much to bear. How could you be so positively stupid? 

 Your mother always chastised you for this kind of thing- you give and give and give, hoping it will make people love you, but it never works. They will take everything from you and then some because they can. 

 You sit on an alcove overlooking the camp- far enough away that you hopefully won’t be spotted by anyone. You wish you hadn’t- you just barely catch a glimpse of Astarion dragging the all alluring and elusive Shadowheart away into the forest. 

 You are diminished to tears- your heart feels like it has splinters all over it and your stomach feels like it may twist before collapsing in on itself. 

 You are about to give up and leave, but the sound of approaching footsteps catches your attention. 

“It’s just me,” Wyll says with his hands up, a friendly smile on his face, “you seemed like you may need a friend.”

 You laugh and wipe your tears away, “and here I thought I was hiding it so well.”

 “You do, my friend,” Wyll says before putting a hand on your shoulder, “what troubles you?” 

 “You are going to think I’m stupid.”

 Wyll laughs lightheartedly, “I have seen and done my fair share of ‘stupid’.” 

 You inhale deeply and tell Wyll your story- from start to finish. You are a crying mess by the end of it- so much so that Wyll actually maneuvered you and began cradling you in his arms. 

 His heartbeat helps steady you- the connection to nature and the ground is helpful. It makes it all feel a bit better- you suppose.

 You eventually sit back down next to Wyll- your face is blotchy and red, tear stained and puffy. 

“I have noticed that you give Astarion all of you,” Wyll says with a frown, “spirit, body, heart, and mind.

“Maybe it is time to stop- set some boundaries for yourself. I am sorry that you did not get the answer you wanted, but at least now you know and that is a blessing. You can now look for someone who truly wants you and gives equally as much as they take.” 

 You nod. You had hoped to hear more of a, “he will come around” message, but you know this is the better, healthier message. You despise it, but it’s true.

 You and Wyll spend time talking about other things. You tell him how you hope to open your own clinic one day and help people who cannot afford it. Wyll tells you about the Sword Coast, his failings, and his own trauma. 

 He teaches you different constellations, the different flora in the area, and what the fishing season was like when the town was functioning and Wakeen’s rest was up and running. It sounds like it was a beautiful place to live before all of this nonsense erupted.

 It’s fun and Wyll makes you feel seen and appreciated. He still isn’t Astarion, but you know it will take some time before you can look at someone else and that’s okay.

 Wyll walks you back to camp and you don’t bother to look over at Astarion’s tent nor do you go that way like you usually would. You noticed he was back and so was Shadowheart. Both of their clothes were ruffled- it’s been at least two hours so you can only imagine.

  “Good night, Tav,” Wyll kisses you on the back of the hand before engulfing you in a large hug that you gladly accept, “sleep well- tomorrow will be better.”

 You go to your bedroll and begin to open your healing magics book when a knock on your tent post gets your attention. Maybe it’s Wyll. He did say he enjoyed talking to you, maybe he wants to spend the night? That doesn’t seem overly realistic though- he is a perfect gentleman.

“Come in,” you say, still not looking up, “what’s up?” 

“I was hoping I may be able to get a small snack?”

 Oh. It’s Astarion.

 You just fed him earlier today before the party. Usually you would say yes, but Wyll is right- you can’t keep giving him everything and leaving nothing for yourself. 

“I- I am really sorry,” he frowns and his ears even droop, “I am just really tired and I don’t-“

“No worries, Tav.” He says with a forced smile on his face, “have a good evening.”

  You are shaking after he leaves the tent. You cannot believe you just did that. You set a whole boundary. 

 No he did not call you by a pet name nor did he flirt with you. Yes he frowned and it made your heart hurt, but you need to start putting yourself first. 

  You still cry yourself to sleep and you wake up early enough to wash your face with cold water- any evidence of your heartbreak is completely gone. 

     ***********************************************

 You have managed to really avoid Astarion for the last four, almost five days. You let him feed because you don’t want him to starve to death, but you found out that casting “calm” on yourself beforehand keeps your adrenaline from kicking up so you no longer react to him.

 You cry afterwards, obviously, but he doesn’t need to know that. He is right- he never did anything to make you believe he liked you and it was very naive of you to assume he did. However, you do commend yourself for your courage to try and you even walked away with your dignity. 

 At the end of the day, you are proud of yourself and you love yourself more than anything. You will continue your mission and continue to help people because you enjoy helping people. Right now, this group of weirdos needs you and you need you so that you all make it out of this nonsense alive.

 That is more than enough to keep someone busy.

 First there was a Hag to fight, then you unfortunately had to kill a monster hunter (you didn’t talk to Astarion about it afterwards, that is Shadowheart’s job), and fought a bunch of spiders off- which also brought up the Necromancy of Thay argument again. That was exhausting. 

 Astarion opened the door on a Bugbear and Ogre bumping uglies, you also had to really put your foot down so that he wouldn’t send a dark Gnome flying. He was quite frustrated with you, but he understood your reasoning enough to not do it. 

 Then there were the Gnolls and Astarion had opened the chest which caused the Zhentarim guild to attack and try to make you all explode. Thankfully you were able to save that weird artist, but no one from the guild survived. 10/10 supplies though. 

 There are things to be done and places to see. Exploring the Underdark first made the most sense. It upset Lae’zel, but she said she trusts your judgment which warms your heart. 

 It is certainly not a quick or easy journey to get to the entrance inside the abandoned temple of your Goddess. You can hear Shadowheart saying snarky things- Astarion snorts here and there, but doesn’t actually chime in for once. 

 At least you get some relief from that for a day. You wrap your hand around your Moondrop pendant and you already feel the love of Selune flow through you. You kept the statue as well and you keep it next to you- last night you actually slept with it in your hand. 

 You had grown up exceptionally poor and your parents died from some disease in the mines where you were all imprisoned. The mine was eventually raided by Selune clerics and paladins- you immediately knew that is what you wanted to be. Selune had saved you right before you were being shipped to another location and you lived with her clergy ever since.

 You were grateful you had a potion of flying as well as the support of the others to keep the moonstone. Even Astarion expressed his approval when Shadowheart became upset. You waited until it killed the Minotaur, of course. The splash of blood that hit the group wasn’t necessarily welcome, but oh well.

  And at least you don’t have a ridiculous name.

 You snicker to yourself as you walk- earning an odd look from Gale who is covered in Minotaur blood. You urge him to keep talking about whatever book he finished last night and he gladly dives back into the subject. 

 Finding a decent spot to camp was actually pretty easy. The camp is beautiful and your tent is set up next to Karlach’s. She convinces you to make a massive tent fort and Fort Tavlach is born. 

 You pass a bottle of wine back and forth as you talk. Karlach is letting you hug Clive as you talk about the tiefling party and the aftermath of everything.

“Is that why those two are sitting next to each other so miserably?” 

You cock your head to the side, “what do you mean?”

“What I mean is they look miserable and haven’t stopped fighting for the last three days,” Karlach states with a raised eyebrow, “have you really not been paying attention?”

 You shake your head. Karlach gapes at you, chugging a bit of the wine before passing it back.

“Well- I have been waiting to tell you all day, but Shadowheart finally told me what they were fighting about.”

 “Oh, Karlach, I really should-“

“Two nights ago, they tried to be intimate again and he said your name during the act itself.”

 You simultaneously choke on and spit out your wine- some of it comes out of your nose. You can’t stop coughing and Karlach is dying laughing- she is crying she is laughing so hard. You are crossing your arms and uncrossing them in front of your face- a look of bewilderment as you process what just happened.

“mE!?”

 This just makes Karlach laugh even harder, she goes running straight for behind a rock- screaming that she is going to pee herself.

 The entire camp is looking over in curiosity and you just wave awkwardly. You catch Astarion’s gaze from the corner of your eye and he looks sad- maybe even a little angry.

 He storms off to his tent and Shadowheart rolls her eyes, glaring at you before going off to her own tent. 

 Karlach eventually comes back and you both continue your drunken gossip.

“That- that can’t possibly be true,” you say, “I asked him on a date and he told me I was naive to think he would ever want to be with me that way.”

“What!?” Karlach looks like she may light the entire camp on fire, “why didn’t you say something! We could have-“

“No,” you chastise, “he is right. It was naive of me to assume- my hurt is no one else’s fault. I also chose to give him everything I had. 

“He doesn’t owe me, I wanted to do those things,” you affirm, Karlach is smiling softly, “I still adore him, of course, but this is for the best, you know? Wyll says it means I can set my sights elsewhere now that I know Astarion isn’t into me.” 

“That is very big of you. Look at you in your big kid pants.”

You roll your eyes and give her a playful shove.

“He has been hurt and used enough for a dozen lifetimes- I don’t want to contribute to that hurt.” 

“You are a good person, Soldier,” Karlach hands you the bottle of wine, “you know- Halsin would be an amazing lover. I am sure of it.”

 “You think?”

“Oh ho- let me tell you what I think, Soldier-“

 Karlach goes into her wild theories and you try so hard to listen intently, but your drunken mind is stuck on Astarion and wondering if he is okay.

[iamnotdeadyet]

1 , 2 , 3 , 4

I wanna be your whore!!

5 , 6 , 7 , 8

Call me slut , it feels great!!

Idk, these men probably:

HONORABLE MENTIONS ALSO GO TO:

YUJI ITADORI, NOBARA, Sukuna. HINATA SHOYO, TERUSHIMA, OIKAWA TOORU, KURO TETSURO, Atsumu Miya, BOKUTO. DAZAI. + UR FAVS!!

°•°•°•°•°•°°•°•°•°

iamnotdeadyet owns this

[catscidr]

i. note — i have so many thoughts about akademiya era dottore. most of them are silly and fun and cute i promise but some of them are..... Nothing like that. help me i need to Ruin Him. ong when i get my hands on him……… ii. includes — akademiya!dottore (zandik), gn reader iii. cw — i'm literally just rambling so have fun. he's kindof a brat, reader is implied to have more experience. making out, dry humping, outercourse. smut so mdni. no penetration

akademiya!zandik whose social circle is practically nonexistent; if he’s not tinkering with machine parts he found in some abandoned ruin then he’s nose deep into an old book, trying to absorb knowledge directly through the pages. so, of course it’s not a surprise when he doesn’t know how to act normal around people

akademiya!zandik who would be so pent up and so so so sooooo sensitive! he wouldn’t even get himself off ever, choosing to soothe his curiosity about khaenrian machines over his own carnal, lustful needs. even something as simple as a hug gets his blood rushing straight down (much to his frustration!! he's supposed to be a scholar, not some hormonal beast..........)

it would be so easy to rile him up.. be a little too touchy and “oblivious” to how your “platonic” affection gets to him and BAM now he can’t focus on what he’s doing because his heartbeat is just throbbing in his crotch. he’ll read the same line five times before he realizes that nothing is getting through his head (and instead something else is getting in his other head…….)

akademiya!zandik who would most definitely be a whiner. when you finally get him to pay attention to you he’s all mad n whatever, weakly scolding you for even daring to interrupt his studies. but as he swivels his chair around to face you, he sees you standing over him, looking down at his cute scowl, n he feels his cock jump at the sight. you looked almost angelic, the overhead lighting creating a makeshift halo around your head…

zandik who interrupts his own rambling just to look at you. or, uh, to gawk at you. while you peer down at the….. effect you have on him

you step forward and raise your leg to place your knee between his thighs on his chair, and bend down to get closer to his face. his breath hitches and he swallows thickly all while holding your gaze— at this point he might as well have hearts in his eyes. but he’s still scowling n his brows are all furrowed…. wonder when and how he’ll finally lose that tension in his face. hmmmm……..

even just a kiss on the cheek would fluster him, because of course it would! but what about a kiss on the lips? what about a messy french kiss, filled with tongue and teeth clashing clumsily as you absolutely devour him while all he can do is moan into your mouth and shut his eyes to prevent them from rolling back into his skull?

poor baby would be struggling to breathe, fingers tangling themselves into your uniform in a poor attempt to let you know he wants to tap out. you get what he’s trying to do, of course, but why not push him to his limits? tease him a little? his muffled moans feel like music to your ears and you want to hear the entire symphony

but when you finally pull away, a lewd string of saliva connecting your tongues, poor zandik can’t help the moan that leaves his bruised lips. he pulls you in again, chest heaving up and down to catch his breath, n tries to go for another kiss. you let him pull you in but you don’t return the kiss, instead choosing to keep your lips shut tightly as he whines and huffs out elaborate curses to try to make you indulge him

and indulge him you will when he learns how to beg for what he wants. to your surprise he learns fairly quickly— even if he’s a little bad at it. but it’s charming!! “just fucking kiss me again goddamnit”, “i wanna kiss you again. let me kiss you”, and your favourite, “p… please?”

it's right then that you make it your life’s mission, your purpose to make him stutter like that every single day.

and it’s almost cathartic when you touch him, even if your clothes are still in the way. still balancing yourself on the chair (and also pinning him to it in turn, hehe) you bump your knee against his erection, a breathy moan blessing your ears from zandik himself. his grip on your top is so tight you think he might even rip it, god knows the last time he trimmed his nails

zandik who would grind himself on your knee without even realizing what he’s doing, all the while you coo in his ears about what a good job he’s doing, what a good boy he is.

zandik who would yearn for more, who would weakly cuss you out when you refuse to let him fuck you.

zandik who, even with his enormous ego, would still follow you around like a lost puppy, begging you to teach him everything you know

[mushyroom-stories]

×`°~WELCOME TO MY BLOG~°`×

Requests: Open(for now)

Hello! I'm mushi, 19. Fan of jjk and hazbin and etc. This is my first time making stories or oneshots and imagines, I will post about my ocs (if any one wants to know about them) big huge fan of monsters and yanderes and especially @bunnis_monsters!. This blog will be more of a 18+ but not too much. I do have rules of writing I dos/and donts. And feel free to ask any questions and will absolutely love to hear your requests and questions!(pls I'm a lonely sad person) All my posts will be chubby reader and skinny reader if in mind! 18+ minors/ ageless Blogs DNI!

RULES FOR REQUESTING:

When sending a request pls follow these simple and easy rules:

#1 be clear of what you want to request.

#2 be polite and do not spam my ask box, I might block you.

#3 and pls understand that I won't get any asks, pls don't pressure me to answer things (makes me very uncomfortable)

#4 make sure you write your age in your bio or in your requests, I do not accept request from minors who requests 18+.

#5 don't hate me when I didn't do/ or see your request, and pls be patient or wait patiently.

#6 I do not know if you know this already or not I'm just gonna say it, all my ocs are 18+ which means all of them are (matured)adults!

I WILL NOT WRITE FOR:

-incest/stepcest/(you already know)

-rape/harassment(just no)

-pedophilic situations and relationships

-vomit/and gross stuff

-Selfharm

-Fem x fem(I am terribly sorry, Im terrible of writting fem x fem)

-anything I'm uncomfortable with(just makes me very very uncomfortable)

𓇼₊MASTERLIST₊𓇼

✧᱖𓇼₊NAVIGATION₊𓇼᱖✧

★MEET THE... YANDERES★

[caplanbuckybarnes]

Take a Chance of Me (Skinny!Steve Rogers)

Summary: Steve visits the Metropolitan Museum of Art on 5th Ave. in NYC and meets you there. Skinny!Steve AU

WC: 550

Warnings: preserum steve, fluff

A/N: i'm locating all of old fics on here. i'm located a TON of them already. *Most* of them are already on ao3 or you to enjoy.

Read on Ao3!

-

Being as he was, Steve always felt out of place. He never held a girl’s attention like his best friend, Bucky. He never had a first kiss, a first date, nothing. He was always stuck at home with his mother to care for him. Of course, Bucky was always hanging about or dragging him places– which Steve never minded. He held Bucky to high standards because, for once, Steve had someone to hang with, someone who didn’t treat him like he was so fragile. Someone who saw Steve for who he was.

Steve had met Bucky a few years ago. He was maybe thirteen or fourteen. Who really remembered? He was fighting a bully in an alleyway next to an ice cream shop. Well, the bully was fighting, and Steve was groaning and hacking up a lung, trying to defend the poor cat that the bully had been torturing.

Bucky had heard the grunts and trash cans being knocked over and of course, he was drawn to the noise. He’d watched for only a second before he had sighed and rolled up the sleeves of his shirt, preparing to lay one on this bigger guy. Bucky had taken a few steps into the alley and clocked his fist right into the man’s skull, causing him to stumble forward and lose his balance. “Come on, punk.” He called, beckoning over to the little blonde man, who had a bloody and what looked to be a broken nose. He’d taken the shorter man back to his home, where Bucky’s mother had helped him heal. Steve stayed at Bucky’s house every day after school for the rest of the month.

So now, it was years later. Bucky had gone off to fight in a war America had no business fighting in. Steve had walked around, finally making a stop at the  Metropolitan Museum of Art, where he studied the paintings and sculptures to pass the time. He thought about everything in his mind. He thought about how he’d wanted to become a professional painter. He thought about his friendship with Bucky. He thought about his mother and how grateful he was that she was with him.

Steve thought about many things as he strolled through the rooms, looking at everything around him. He’d been so busy looking he hadn’t noticed you were just as preoccupied looking as well. He’d bumped into you, knocking you both onto the ground.

You let out a surprised cry as your butt had collided with the marble flooring, knocking the brochure out of your hand.

“I’m-I’m sorry,” Steve mumbled as he scurried to his feet and helped you to your own.

“It’s okay!” you nearly giggle at the redness on his face.

“Are you hurt?” he asked you, voice timid and unsure.

You shook your head, grinning at the small, handsome blond man. “No, of course not. It was hardly a fall.”

He nodded, running a hand through his short locks of hair. “Um-”

You only shrugged before gently intertwining your arms together, making Steve stutter even more. “Would you like to take a tour with me?”

“Yes.” He blinked, not knowing what else to say, thinking about how proud Bucky would be of him had he been standing next to him. “Of course, I would.”

“Great!”

--

Please give this a reblog if you enjoyed <3

[svgvru]

okay but imagine subby dazai who loves to be called Princess …🙏🙏🙏

admin ( posted for the first time in a while ) but like, ur so right nonnie omg. he'd be so cute! imagine him being his brat like self, pulling a couple of pranks, pushing buttons he knows he's not supposed to push, the usual. he'd play fight you, knowing damn well he can't win. he's a bit too frail, too thin and small compared to you. there's no way he'd win, but he tries regardless, whimpering when you pin him to the wall.

his right side his pressed firmly to the wall, one leg is keeping him afoot while the other is in your hold. his left side his folded due to your arms caging his leg to his head between your arms. he's completely trapped and under your control, his arms and legs of no use, just like he wanted of course. imagine slowly pushing into him, sighing at the way his walls feel. "you just have to be irritating, hm?" you grit your teeth, buck up into his hole, smiling at the way his dick slumps downwards due to gravity. "i thought you wanted to be my princess? well—then again, princesses tend to be bratty," you whisper, pressing sloppy kisses to his neck, "guess the slipper fits."

dazai whines at the nickname, his cheeks are reddend with blush as he takes your cock like a champ. his hazel eyes catch the way your cock bulges beneath his belly button, and he almost cums from the sight. "come on, princess. be as bratty as you need to," you coo in his ear, "'m right here."

a chuckle leaves your lips when dazai practically yells your name, muttering "mhm"s and "yesyesyes," over and over again. he's a cutie!

[hford0311]

She never looked at me that way before

Summary: From the first time you met Bucky as a 7-year-old, things got ugly quick, which established a decade-long hatred for your male neighbor who unfortunately was also your brother's best friend. Then, one night began to change your opinions of Bucky.

Tags: 1930/40s timeline. Fem!reader x Bucky Barnes. Childhood enemies to lovers.

Being Steve's younger sister wasn't the easiest thing imaginable. "But Mama!" You cried as you watched the other children in the neighborhood play. "Y/n, I said no." You huffed and plopped yourself on the floor in front of the window. "Can't do nothin' 'round here." You angrily mumbled. "Missy, you keep that attitude up, I'll find you something to complain about." Your mother called. You rolled your eyes out the window. At the ripe age of seven, you knew the unfairness whenever you looked at your brother. You were aware of the problems, but they only bothered you at times like this. However, they happened more often than not now that you were in a new neighborhood with new kids. 

A knock at the door minutes led you to race to it and open it. Your mother sighed and whispered, "I don't know what I'm going to do with you," before she walked over to the open door. "You must be Mrs. Rodgers," the woman at the door smiled with two children at her sides, "I'm Mrs. Barnes and these are my children, James and Rebecca." "Bucky, Mama," the boy groaned. The mother lightly chuckled, "Sorry, Bucky, my troublesome son." Sarah smiled back the mother. "Well, you met my troublesome, Y/n. Let me go fetch her brother," she went and grabbed Steve from the bedroom. 

"Would you be opposed to them playing outside while we get to know each other?" Mrs. Barnes questioned. Sarah hesitated, fearing Steve would have an asthma attack or worse. "I promise my children know the rules of playing outdoors. Plus, they can introduce them to the others. Be good for them to have friends before school starts." Mrs. Barnes  persuaded her. "Oh, Mama, please!" You and your brother begged. Sarah sighed, "Alright, but you and your brother have to look after each other." You and Steve cheered before following the other children outside.

Sarah anxiously watch her children play with the others in the alley from the window. It felt a little too fitting that her children were the same age of the Barnes children. "I'm sure they'll be fine, Sarah." Mrs. Barnes mentioned. The two women bonded, soon learning about each others' past and present. Meanwhile, you decided you wanted to play stickball with some of the boys. However, it wasn't that easy. Somehow, it ended with you and Bucky screaming in each others' faces. Despite the two year difference, you still stood nose to nose with the boy when you were on your toes. "If you weren't a girl, I'd hit ya!" Bucky yelled. 

Wham! Children swarmed the scene. "I wonder-oh my goodness!" Mrs. Barnes glanced out the window to witness what was happening. She quickly ran down to the alley with Sarah not far behind. "Out of my way!" Mrs. Barnes screamed and broke apart the group of children to reveal her eldest with a bloody nose. Sarah separated you from the group. You were panting and hid your bloody hand behind your back. "What happened!" "She's crazy!" Bucky yelled as an answer. "He wouldn't let me play because I'm a girl!" You yelled back. "Y/n! You do not hit!" Sarah scolded. "But-" "No buts." She huffed and grabbed your wrist, trying to avoid getting blood on her before dragging you up to the apartment. That moment defined your hatred towards Bucky Barnes. 

Soon after the initial fight and greeting, the boy could never stop coming by to hang out with Steve, leaving you to steam in irritation. However, Rebecca was able to help with the situation a lot of the time. You two loved to gossip and make fun of Bucky. Funny how the two siblings were totally different. Sarah and Winnifred were deeply grateful for the separation  of the two pairs that allowed there to be peace in the two apartments. 

***

Six years it has been and the hatred did not cease. Perhaps, it grew-- or at least the maturity level of it increased-- which isn't much to say. 

"Bucky Barnes, won't you just leave me alone!" You yelled at him when he followed you back from school. At thirteen, you didn't need a babysitter to walk you back to the apartment after the bus ride from school. His fifteen year old self mocked you from behind your back. "Such a jerk!" The words left your mouth like venom. The one time Rebecca and Steve were both sick, he decided to pester you the most, and both of your mothers wanted him to make sure you got home safe from school. "It's not like I want to," Bucky grumbled. "God, won't you go do something with Steve and get the hell away from me?" You growled. Bucky pressed you up against one of the brick buildings. His blue eyes starring into your soul, wanting to send it deep into the pits of hell. "Y/n, if I had that option, I would. Now, just stop complaining and get home." His height was beginning to tower yours. "Fine," you huffed and ducked under his arm to continue on your route. Somehow, your brother was best friends with the most annoying boy in the neighborhood, and no one else hated it as much as you did. Your mother grew to adore him as her own son. It basically led to him never leaving your apartment or dining table, which led to Barnes's home to become an escape for you. The hallway is a no man's land that neither of you were caught in besides entering and exiting the two apartments. 

At age 17, you sighed as you got off the bus from coming home from grabbing medicine and a few other grocery items for your sickly brother. The sporadic lit street light led your way home. You looked down at your clacking shoes, counting the steps you made to distract yourself from the cold and the thoughts that could enter a young woman's mind while walking alone on the street at night. You counted louder in your head when you heard voices that you didn't want to understand or hear. Be as that might be, hearing more footsteps  that were not yours could not make focusing and counting steps easy. Fingertips grazed your bicep, causing you to trip off the sidewalk and land on your hands and knees. The materials in your bag now flung elsewhere You tried scattering up, but when you turned around, you froze in fear at the stranger in front of you. He was starting to walk close to you and saying something before rapid steps and punches were exchanged in a blur of movement. 

Then, one of the blurs left and the other came into focus in front of you. The unwelcomed face became a pleasant one. "Bucky!" You breathed an exhale. His strong yet soft hands lifted you up from your stunned state. "Are you okay?" His voice was caring and gentle. "Y-yes," you confirmed, trying to steady yourself on your feet. "C'mon, let's get you home." He started to guide you in the direction. "Steve's medicine, I dropped it." You were a muttering mess in front of him, pointing in the direction of where you fell. "Stay here," His hands on your shoulders, like setting you in place before quickly snatching the med bottle in his coat pocket. "Alright, let's go, I gotcha." Bucky led you home. 

"Thank you, Bucky. I-I-" Bucky interrupted you as the pair of you made it to the landing. "You don't need to thank me, Y/n." You simply nodded and then motioned to his coat pocket, "Steve still needs those." Your old nemesis delicately placed them in your palm. "Take care of yourself," he spoke and walked to his apartment. 

The energy between the two of you would change after this night. It took about six months for a complete one-eighty change. 

Now, the hallway that separated the two apartments would be a no man's land anymore. Quite the opposite, actually. You felt your feet start to tremble when Bucky kissed you at the apartment door. "We can't let anyone know," you whispered as you broke the kiss. "Oh, not a soul," he whispered back and kissed you again. "I mean it, Bucky. Not even my brother." You scolded him. "Never, doll." He confirmed before planting his lips onto yours. "Alright, I should go before someone catches us," Bucky whispered and started to take the twelve feet to his apartment. You quickly followed him and stopped him to exchange another act of affection. "Yes, you should go...it's getting late." He took a step down to be on the same as you. "Go to bed, my Y/n doll," he planted a kiss on your forehead, "dream of me." You blushed, "As long as you dream of me, James." He stroked your cheek and took his final departure. You leaned up against the hallway wall for a moment to calm down before going back into your apartment.  

"You're late," Steve mentioned from his chair in the corner by the lamp. Your body jolted as you softly closed the door. "Jesus, Steve," you hissed and pressed your hand to your heart, "do you want to give me a heart attack?" He closed his book and stood from his spot. "Just come home on time. Mom was worried." Guilt rose in you as your brother began to trudge to bed. "Hey Steve," he stopped and turned to you, "don't worry Bucky walked me home."  It wasn't a complete lie and the statement lessened the guilt. "Good to hear you're finally getting along." He stated with a smile and goes to bed. 

***

You walked out of the apartment door, only for Bucky to swiftly pulled you over his shoulder and in five seconds, his apartment door magically sprung open and shut before Bucky put you down, his lips pressed deeply onto yours, making you pressed up against the door. "Bucky Barnes, what have gotten into you?" You giggled. He pressed his index finger to your lips. "Do you hear that?" You noticed the absence of the other Barnes family members. "What are you talking about?" You whispered in the silence. "We're here all by ourselves, Y/n doll." He grinned and pressed on another kiss. The pair of you stopped, starring into each other eyes without the desire to punch each other.