#skull complains!!! why does he get all this!?!? | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

stunie · 6 months ago

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NO BRAKES ! ᯓ⭑ 1.2K wc. ft. dabi x f!reader

summary: oh, so you wanna ask him “is that all you’ve got?” while he’s balls deep inside you and see what happens? here’s a lil hint for you: he’s not gonna be very happy with you.

contains : explicit smut (18+), brat taming, overstimulation, mentions of squirting, pet names, teasing, creampie, cw blood (his staple tore a lil bit), slight cw degradation (calls u dumb, but he also calls u cute !!), his dick has piercings <3, hate sex ??

note : okk here’s my response to this thirst ! ૮꒰ྀི∩´ ᵕ `∩꒱ྀིა

“Look at you,” you hear Dabi growl from just above you, his hand pushing your face deeper into your couch as soon as you’re trying to spit a slew of curses at him, “What’s the matter? That’s quite the face you’re making.”

His pace doesn’t falter, still relentless even when he’s jutting out his tongue to quickly swipe at the blood that’s begun to drip down the side of his mouth, the result of the way his lips are overly stretched in a scary smile— his mouth spreading a bit too far from the way he’s laughing at how you’re squealing underneath him. “S-shut up,” you try and bark back, voice trailing off into a loud gasp when he hits a particularly deep spot inside you. “It’s t-too much. You gotta.. gotta slow down..!”

“Aww, you poor, poor thing,” he’s feigning sympathy, a terrible job at it— but the thumb that was previously pressing into your cheek a moment ago is now rubbing soothing circles against the skin. It does absolutely nothing to comfort you, only making your eyebrow twitch in annoyance at the mere thought.

“But.. i wouldn’t be complaining if i was you, little girl.”

You can smell the familiar scent of smoke as soon as he’s lowering himself to loom over you, the cold staples that line his chest now pressing against your back as you shiver. The movement has him suddenly reaching even deeper inside you, your eyes rolling further back into your skull when you feel a mixture of his cum and your juices spill out onto the fabric beneath you.

He was big enough as is… had already emptied himself inside you once tonight, got you completely filled up to the brim and yet you’re still somehow able to vividly feel the piercings lining his dick drag along your walls with each and every thrust.

The same walls he’s been so insistent on training. The same walls he’s always having to force to stretch out for him, make them open up and accommodate his thickness. It’s always been a mystery to him as to why you— down to your pussy, always act like such a fucking brat with him. Just how many times has he taken you by now?

Bent you over your couch, your table, he’s even taken you right on your welcome mat. But no matter how many times he buries his cock in you, he still has to spend his time working his fingers in you, get you all stretched out and ready to take him.

How much longer’s it gonna take for your pussy to ingrain the shape of his dick in its little mind?

He wants to make that happen tonight.

You hear Dabi loudly grunt above you before he’s suddenly grabbing you by your face, fingers digging into your cheeks as he forces you to crane your neck and peer back of him, cock twitching when he sees you shoot him your best attempt a glare.

“Ahh, still a fuckin’ brat,” he acknowledges, “looks like our practice has been helping your stamina.” His voice is steady and low, and if it wasn’t for the hungry and crazed look in his eyes— one you can easily recognize as the same look he gets when he wants to see you screaming and shaking under him.. you’d probably think he was bored otherwise.

“You know… if you didn’t have such a cute face,” he’s leaning in, and he has to stifle a laugh when your eyes flutter shut in expectance. Oh— you cutie. Did you really think he was about to give you a little kiss?

How adorable of you. So you really can be sweet sometimes.

There’s a tight squeeze to your cheeks to get you back to looking at him, your tired eyes meeting with his again as your lips are forcefully puffing out in a pathetic pout from his grip. “There you are. Said that if you didn’t have that face, then it’d be my foot pushing your head down on that couch and not my hand.”

“Consider yourself lucky.”

“..Huh?” you ask incredulously, and he’s immediately taking back what he previously thought about you being sweet, not with that attitude you’re giving him. Your voice is breathless, and he can tell your mind has already started to go dizzy from how good he feels, but you still have your pride if nothing else— much to Dabi’s dismay. “Y-you’d better not..” you’re panting now, “put your grimy feet anywhere near my face.”

He only laughs. God, he’d never even dream of ruining that pretty face.

“Yea, yea,” he coos, abruptly letting go with a disappointed shrug of his shoulders as you yelp, hands coming to catch yourself as you fall back onto the couch. “Not that it’d even matter, dollface… ‘s not gonna change the way you’re looking right now.”

He doesn’t give you a chance to retort, hands gripping around your hips now as he repeatedly pulls you back into him, bullying his achy cock into you over and over, ecstatic with the way you have to scramble to get a tighter grip on the couch, keep yourself braced and grounded so he doesn’t fuck you right off onto the floor.

And you’re being so loud. Did you really even hate him? Your neighbors wouldn’t think so. In fact, no one in a one mile radius would think so.

They would think you loved him.

“How cute— you’re already looking ruined.” There’s a subtle shake to his voice, a tell-tale sign that he’s starting to get close to his high, and the way he’s slamming so deep inside you is only a second confirmation of that. “Completely ruined. How’s that feel?”

“‘M not,” you spit back, glare contorting to a lewd expression as soon as he finds the spot that’ll have you creaming in seconds. Close. You’re so close, and it’s always about now when he starts fucking you like you’re nothing but a toy.

“Yeah?” and you absolutely hate that you know him well enough to be able to tell that he’s grinning ear to ear at the way you’ve started to tremble under him. “You’d break into pieces if i took off the brakes.”

“But you asked for it huh? Want me to destroy you and turn you into my dumb little cocksleeve?” He’s louder now, raising his voice so you can hear him over the shrieking sound of your moans. “Don’t needa ask twice, doll. now shut that bratty mouth of yours up already.”

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soleilapproves · 2 months ago

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You suspect that Simon might have a crush on you (much to your happiness). So you decide to harmlessly manipulate him into admitting it by asking him to set you up with one of his friends.

Note: fem!reader

main masterlist

—

r/advice

u/throwaway123:

How do I (F) subtly find out if my friend (M33) likes me?

Replies:

u/sudsysoap: there’s no need to be subtle. ask him to sleep with you lmao [+50, -10]

u/pricetag: agree with u/sudsysoap, men will sleep with anything as long as it has a hole [+30, -20]

u/log1cal: ask him to set you up with his friends. I did that and now we have 2 kids and a third one on the way. That prank will work wonders [+100, -7]

You had a feeling that Simon liked you. It felt obvious. He would walk by the street on the sidewalk to protect you, brought you deadbolts for your mangy apartment that you only live in for the cheap rent, would buy you groceries when you were too tired to leave your bed, and of course, would be very patient with you when you’d be feeling irritated.

Okay, maybe, he just treated you like how a best friend should but that still wouldn’t explain why he’d come to your apartment, in your crime ridden neighborhood and cuddle with you right after deployment. Not even bothering to shower before laying himself down on you like a starfish.

“I just want to feel warm.” Was his answer whenever you’d ask him why he did so.

You never complained though. Instead, you relished the feeling of his heavy and exhausted body against yours. Enjoying the almost territorial hold he had on you. Like most friendships, it was a symbiotic relationship.

You both never kept much from each other. Obviously there were many aspects of his job that you couldn’t ask about and you respected that.

However, you both had hidden feelings and neither of you wanted to put your cards on the table out of the fear of rejection.

You watched as the man scarfed down his Sunday breakfast- a sort of inside tradition where you’d both go to a cafe near your apartment and scarf down food. It always happened on the first Sunday after his return from deployment.

The words from that one Reddit comment lingered in your mind.

He felt your eyes on him from your end of the booth and placed his fork down, still in his grasp. “Somethin’ on my face?” His gruff voice asked.

“No, I’m just wondering if they even fed you at all.”

He let out a sarcastic ‘ha’ and went back to eating. You were getting antsy to the point where you began to pick at your hash brown with your fork, the crisp golden patty crumbling with every poke.

You wanted to try the trick so bad.

But what if he doesn’t like you like that? What if he does end up setting you up with a man you aren’t interested in because you decided to be sly for a moment?

Fuck it. At least this would be the least explicit way.

“I’m so tired of being single.” You huffed as you leaned back into the leather cushioned booth. Simon did not give any sort of reaction. Instead he directed his attention to his coffee as he mixed it with some zero calorie sweetener.

“All the guys in this city are so weird. I’ve done everything to get a boyfriend.” You continued. Simon sipped his beverage and looked through the menu again (probably for a second helping of sausages).

Still no reaction. Sometimes you wondered how you even became friends with him.

“Wait, I know.”

His demeanor changed as his blue eyes flit to your figure. “You should set me up with one of your military friends.” You said as you smiled like a scientist who had just made a great discovery in his field.

Simon beckoned you over with his hand. Confused, you slid towards his end of the booth. “What?”

He lightly knocked on the top of your head like it was a door. “Thank God,” he muttered out.

“What was that for?” You replaced his hand with yours on your head, checking to see if he was trying to remove any lint.

“Tryin’ to check if your skull was hollow.”

“Fuck you, Simon. All I did was ask for a favor.”

The man folded his arms, biceps begging to be let out of the confinement of his sleeves. Your heart couldn’t help but beat a little faster at the sight.

“Is it because I’m not pretty?”

“Where’d that even come from? I-“

“So you agree that I’m not pretty.” You said before huffing and turning away from him.

“Oh my- fuck, just listen to me.”

You open your mouth to say more but you decide to give your friend a break.

He cleared his throat and turned your shoulders towards him. Your skin burned when his calloused palms situated themselves on you. “First of all, you’re not ugly. You’re basically out of their league.” You never understood why he couldn’t just compliment you like a normal person.

“Second, you deserve someone who will actually give you all their time. Something my military friends can’t do. You’re not going to be a priority.”

You felt like shrinking in your seat. His reasoning was ambiguous. You couldn’t tell if he was denying your request because he didn’t want your heart broken or because he actually liked you.

“Oh, okay.” You looked away from him in embarrassment. So much for miracles.

“Besides,”

He then went on to replace the deconstructed hash brown on your plate with his non battered one.

“You might find someone if you look hard enough.”

Your head perked up. Could he possibly be hinting at something?

“What do you mean?”

“Go out with me.” He didn’t beat around the bush this time. Went straight to the point.

“I don’t want you to date me out of pity, Simon.”

“It’s not pity. I like you.”

Oh.

OH.

You made a mental note to thank that one Reddit comment later. Trying your best not to smile, you let out a deep a breath before speaking. “Truth be told, I like you too. I don’t just let any man barge into my house and lay with me.”

“You’d better not.” Simon said as he pulled you into his side and then pushed your head close to his with his hand behind your neck.

“Been waitin’ for you to admit that,” he said before leaving a deep kiss on your mouth.

864 notes · View notes

joonberriess · 1 year ago

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teeth. ☆ j.jk

⋆ TAGS — ghostface!jk, breaking in, TW: non-con to dub-con (oc does NOT consent verbally even if she does participate hence the dub-con), brief knife play, cunnilingus, degradation, misogyny(?), objectification, blow jobs, brief face/skull fucking, fuckin in the woods, unprotected sex, nasty talk by jk, possessive!jk, hints of kidnapping/captivity, fear play, facial, jk is lowkey yandere, iconic what’s your favorite scary movie scene but my style, DEAD DOVE, slight praises, ass n coochie worship cause jk is a ass man certified LMAO, cheerleader!oc, college setting

⋆ WORD COUNT — 4.2k

⋆ now playing: teeth - 5sos ⋆

“Color me your color, baby, color me your car, color me your color, darling, I know who you are,”

The music blared loudly, you hummed under your breath while lining over your lips with a dark lip pencil. The hour was getting closer and you realized you had to speed things up if you wanted to meet with your friends on time (you had been stuck in your cheer uniform ALL DAY). You moved around your room quickly while tossing articles of clothing onto your bed, no outfit in particular on your mind.

You uncapped the red lipstick and ran it over your lips slowly, filling in the blank spaces and blending the two colors to perfection. You decided a white long sleeve tucked into your mini jean skirt would serve as a perfect combo. If you were lucky, maybe that cute college senior Kim Seokjin would give you his jacket to wear. The idea has you smiling like a dummy.

Before you can slip out of your skirt the phone downstairs begins ringing loudly. You could have very well ignored it but you don’t feel like listening to your parents nag at you for not picking up the phone if it happens to be them. “Ugh, seriously.” You mutter and quickly run downstairs to the kitchen.

“Hello?” You softly sigh while twirling a piece of your hair around your finger.

“Hello,” some guy’s deep voice greets you, he says nothing else and you tilt your head in confusion muttering a soft ‘yes?’. “Who is this?”

Immediately you frown in confusion and balance the phone between your ear and shoulder, “Who are you trying to reach?” You pop a piece of chicken from your mom’s leftover casserole into your mouth.

“What number is this?”

“Uhh..what number are you trying to reach?”

“I don’t know.”

You hold back a deep sigh and check the time behind you on the clock, you really don’t have patience for this nonsense. Especially for some weirdo who’s either prank calling or just doesn’t know how to work a phone. “Then you have the wrong number,” you eat another piece of casserole, “it happens, take it easy though.” You hang up quickly before he can utter another word to you.

You had just set the phone down when it began to ring all over again, “Ugh…hello?” You stare at the decorative ceiling in annoyance, “Hello?” You say loudly when the other person doesn’t say anything for a few seconds.

“Why don’t you wanna talk to me? Just wanted to apologize, ‘s all.” He says with a teasing lilt, but it sounds more condescending than anything, “Just wanna..get to know you.”

You ignore the nasty little shiver you get down your spine when he talks to you like that, a deeper part of you is literally drooling over how this guy’s voice sounds but too bad he’s a weirdo though.. Your gut twists uncomfortably as your eyes dart to the side to look out the patio doors. “Okay..well you’re forgiven now, bye.” You go to hang up.

“Wait–if you tell me your name I’ll tell you mine.”

You can’t help your scoff, “Yeah, right. I don’t think so, why the hell would I give you my name? You sound like a total creep right now, you know that?” You huff and open your fridge up for a drink, “Besides, what’s your deal anyways? You keep calling and I’m obviously not who you’re looking for.” You complain while uncapping a bottle of water.

“Because,” he calmly starts, “I wanna know who I’m lookin’ at right now.. Pretty red lips and a tight little uniform on,” he draws out huskily.

You immediately go still, “W-What…how do you..?” you look around the empty kitchen and living room. “This isn’t funny.” You quickly head down the hall to the front door, making sure the locks are set before you go back to the living room and make sure the patio doors are locked as well.

“Never said it was babydoll.” He muses, “Though I do gotta admit, red looks spectacular on you, wonder if you got more around here in your drawers.” He trails off, the sound of drawers slamming close and another opening could be heard on the other side of the line.

You wait with a bated breath listening carefully, you slowly turn your head to look up at the ceiling. There’s a low thumping noise that follows the sounds you hear from the phone. Your eyes slip shut as you try to control the sob that’s about to come out of your throat, “What do you want from me?” You croak in a tiny voice.

“What’s your favorite scary movie sweetheart, hm?” His footsteps are heavy as he starts walking around upstairs in your room.

You blink your tears away and stumble towards the hallway to your only escape route: your dad’s office. “I-I don’t like any scary movies,” you whimper quietly, “p-please, I don’t wanna die.” You sniffle. You can hear him humming in the hallway upstairs now, causing you to duck into the office as silent as you can.

“That wasn’t my question. Time’s ticking babydoll, I’m not exactly a patient guy you know.”

“H-Halloween..!” You whisper-yell, “I like Halloween.”

“Which one?” He asks, you can hear him loud and clear at the bottom of the staircase, “Hm?”

You sniffle softly and back away, “Rob Zombie’s version,” you utter softly and hear him pause in his footsteps. He stands there for a few seconds before he slowly draws nearer and nearer. Your eyes squeeze shut as a terrified whimper escapes your lips, before you can plead with him the door slowly creaks open and a hooded figure stands in the doorway with the phone held up to his ear. You stare at him, the phone slipping from your trembling hand as it slams to the floor with a loud thud.

He tilts his head to the side and raises his gloved hand to wave at you. “Hey there sweetheart,” he purrs from under the mask.

You scream out in fear and knock over the desk chair, you’re lucky as hell your dad has a set of patio doors himself. You slip through the doors and run down the small hill, looking back and forth in time to see the hooded figure chasing after you.

The sounds of leaves crunching and branches snapping fill both sides of your ears. Adrenaline kicks in like never before and has you running the fastest you’ve ever moved in your entire life. If you can lose him in the woods you’ll make it to your neighbors’ in five minutes tops, might even get lucky if you detour to the main road but the hill to climb up will only slow you down.

“Don’t be like that babydoll!” He calls out from your left? Right? You don’t know where his voice is coming from, and quite frankly you’re too scared to look. You hear his heavy footsteps (now) directly behind you before a hand tangles itself in the back of your uniform top, gripping it tight as he stops you from going any further.

The force itself is enough to send you flying to the ground, knees scraping hard against a tree stump. You break your fall with your hands, crying out from the pain that erupts in both palms as tiny twigs and rocks dig into your soft skin. “Gotcha.” He chuckles and squats down to your level to admire your bruised form. You must have gave him a run for his money with how hard he’s breathing under the mask.

“P-Please!” You crawl backwards, back hitting the tree stump, “I don’t wanna die,” you pathetically cry, “I promise I won’t tell anyone if you let me go.” Call it cliche but it was worth a shot to plead with your killer? Stalker? You don’t know anymore.

He tilts his head, “Heard that one before, you’re not the first to beg so sweetly like that babydoll. Almost melts my poor little heart,” he coos mockingly, “but don’t stress your pretty little head over that, you’re not meant to use that brain of yours—meant to sit and look pretty for me.” He purrs and reaches out to run a gloved hand over your dirt stricken thighs.

You curl away and try to escape his touch, “Why are you doing this?” You whimper quietly, watching as his hand rubs circles over your bruised knees. A tremor runs down your spine as his leather gloves run over your shaking thighs, his touch feels scorching hot despite the cool material of his gloves pressing against your skin.

“Been watchin’ ya for a while,” he murmurs, “night n day—just imagining allll the different ways I could have you. Bet you’d look pretty with a mouth stuffed full of cock, wonder how pretty you’d look with cock deep inside your little cunt baby,” he trails off while giving your thigh a rough squeeze, “always did wonder how that pussy tastes.” You can practically picture the shit eating grin he must have under the mask.

You hate that his nasty words have a bubbling heat building in your lower stomach, it shouldn’t be that arousing to you yet here you were in the middle of the woods being fondled by your stalker while he talked about how much he wanted to fuck you. His voice even sounds hotter in person vs the phone.

“Penny for your thoughts?” He chuckles.

You land a harsh kick to his arm with a loud, “Get off of me!” You quickly turn over to stumble to your feet while he curses under his breath and stands to chase after you.

He’s not so gentle this time with the way he snatches you and slams you right up against the tree trunk, letting the chips and splinters bite into your skin unforgivingly. “Thought we were over this,” he growls, “was gonna treat you nice and sweet but by the looks of it you just wanna be tossed around like the filthy little slut you are,” he hisses in your ear while pressing you tight against the tree.

You whine loudly and push back against him in an effort to get him off of you, “Let me go—let go!” You growl angrily, “you’re a fucking psycho creep!” You grit your teeth while trying to turn to look directly at him.

He doesn’t shy away from hurting you to get you to become docile again. He pins both wrists behind your back in a tight grip, squeezing both of your hands until you hear a low threatening pop. A pained little whimper escapes your lip as he forces your head against the bark, “You gonna sit still like a good girl or do I have to tie you up?” He growls menacingly.

“I-I’ll be good!” You cry out as the pain starts to become unbearable.

“What was that?” He whispers in your ear, “Couldn’t hear ya.” He smirks.

A quiet sob slips from your lips as you slump over in defeat, “I-I’ll be a good girl.” You softly reply, too hung up on the pain to reply with the unbridled anger you feel right now. “Just please—let me go.” You sob.

He ignores your cries and instead brings out a rather intimidating looking hunting knife, it cuts into your skin almost right away with the slightest little touch. “Please no—” You immediately begin, thighs shifting as they slide against each other in an attempt to block him from either cutting or stabbing you. The only thing you achieve is the blade running into your thigh and slicing a small line downwards.

“None of that now babydoll,” he whispers while letting your wrists go and setting his big hand over your hip, “just sit still and look pretty for me yeah? Don’t need to think, just feel.” He breathes out as he guides the knife up your skirt, letting the sharp tip (which you noticed was slightly curved like a hook or something) hook under the side of your panties.

Your poor heart hammers in your chest as you begin to hyperventilate, “W-What are you gonna do to me?” The blade tugs at your panties, no doubt already piercing through the flimsy little material.

“Fuck.” You hear him whisper from behind, “You’re driving me fuckin’ crazy you know that?” His tongue clicks in annoyance as he suddenly yanks the knife down, a loud riiip following in suit, as well as your terrified scream/sob. “Gonna have a taste now babydoll, put your hands right there—yeahhh, good girl. Keep ‘em there baby,” he has you bending over with your legs spread wide apart and your hands over the tree, “ ‘s like a fuckin’ dream back here, fat little cunt n a nice ass.” He whistles while smacking his hand against your poor cheek.

You bite your lip as the cool air fans over your moist cunt, at this point in time you have long given up making any excuses as to why your pussy was drooling for this weirdo. Still didn’t mean you were less scared but you figured if you complied the faster things would go over. “Look at this slutty pussy, already leakin’ like a bitch in heat. Does a scary man like me chasing you through the woods get you goin’ sweetheart? Maybe you’re a little more fucked than I thought.” He chuckles.

There’s a brief pause and you wonder what he’s doing back there, so you turn your head to look at him when you gasp softly. He has the mask thrown off to the side, his face in all his glory—messy black hair and a lip ring with an array of piercings on his ears— he sits there with a shit eating grin, “Guess the cat’s out the bag huh?” You eye him with distaste before turning back around, you had at least hoped he was ugly or something.

“God,” he groans, “can’t get over this ass,” he mutters to himself while smacking both cheeks and pulling them apart to expose both of your holes to him, “wanna see it wrapped ‘round my cock, gonna have you squirting and messy babydoll. Might even have to get you on your knees to clean up your mess,” he whispers as his hot breath fans over your pussy lips, “you’re gonna be lookin’ at me with those sweet little eyes of yours too, gonna bust my load all over that pretty face of yours.” His tongue dips between your soft folds, licking from your winking hole down to your swollen little clit hiding under its hood.

Your eyes squeeze shut as his hands steady you by the hips, his face is practically smushed against your cunt as he slobbers over it with his greedy tongue. He sucks on your inner folds, getting every nook and cranny as he slurps up the mess he leaves behind before lapping over your clit with his tongue. Your thighs shake a little, you’ve never had anyone this eager to eat your cunt out like this. He’s a fucking menace and you hate how good he is at this.

“Fuck,” he pants softly, “can’t get enough baby, could eat this pussy for days.” He all but moans while latching on to your clit.

A shocked cry leaves your lips, you dig your nails into the tree bark and hold on tightly as your swollen bud throbs in his mouth. He doesn’t let up, suckling on your clit like a lollipop with just the right amount of pressure around the bud. A new wave of slick gushes from your untouched hole, loud mewls and whines leaving you as you subtly rut back against his face. It’s pure heaven.

He spreads your cheeks apart and pulls back to harshly spit on your cunt, “There you go, get nice n wet for me babydoll.” His hot breath fans over your empty little hole, “Good girl.”

You shouldn’t like the way he’s talking to you, but something about him calling you that has a delirious little whimper leaving you. He dips his tongue into your pussy, the sensation definitely welcomed as you sigh in bliss. His tongue wiggles around and curls upwards to brush over your sensitive walls in a flicking motion.

He jiggles your ass in both hands, moaning at the sight of the fat slipping through his fingers from his tight grip. He flicks his tongue back and forth over your swollen bud, you nearly double over as his tongue traces letters on your clit. “W-Wait,” you bite your lip as your eyes shut and you reach behind you to tangle your hand in his hair.

You freeze when you realize what you’re doing, but instead of getting angry with you he leans into your touch with a low moan. Clearly he loves it so you keep your hand in his hair, occasionally pulling just a tiny bit. When he pulls back to catch his breath, audibly gulping as he sits back on his haunches, “Turn around.” He says breathlessly.

From behind you can hear him shuffling around, the sounds of a belt being unbuckled fills your ears. “On your knees babydoll,” he rasps out while fisting his cock, sliding his thumb over the mess of precum he’s made at the tip of his cock. He’s watching you with dark lust filled eyes as you slowly fall to your knees in front of him, eye contact never wavering.

“Shit—when you look like that you make it harder for me to hold back.” He groans while licking his lip, “Exactly how I imagined you’d look.” He purrs as he brings the head of his cock to smother his precum over them, “Stick your tongue out for me baby—there you go, just like that.” He grins softly.

You lay your tongue flat under his fat cock, delighting in the delicious weight over your tongue. You can’t help but flick the tip of your tongue upwards causing it to brush over a throbbing vein. He releases a quiet hiss, fisting the shaft as he roughly slaps it against your tongue in repeated taps.

“Will you look at that, ‘nother little filthy slut we got here, how many other cocks you sucked huh?” He pushes into your mouth and holds the back of your head with one hand tightly fisted in your hair. You gag around his cock and fruitlessly claw at his thighs, “What’s the matter? Can’t take it? Poor baby can’t handle having a cock stuffed down her throat? Pathetic little thing you are, can’t even do what you were made for,” he rasps out while rolling his hips against your face.

His balls press snug against your chin as spit and drool dribble from the corners of your mouth. Your tears run freely no doubt ruining your makeup for the night, you probably look a hot mess right now. Your stalker moans and pants freely above you, he doesn’t bother hiding how good he feels right now as his cock twitches occasionally. You really lose it when he forces your head down and keeps you still, pelvis pressed right up against your nose as he rolls his hips in quick grinds.

“Oh shit,” he breathes out, “feels so fuckin’ good babydoll, knew you were the one when I first saw you.” He whispers out while slipping his cock out of your mouth, relishing in the gasping noises you make, “Gonna make you into my little cock sleeve, don’t need you doin’ anything else..belong with me right on my cock.” He shoves himself back into your mouth and begins fucking into your throat roughly. You cry and gurgle while weakly slapping your hands over his thighs. He doesn’t let up and only fucks your throat more eagerly.

“Fuck baby, c’mere,” he yanks you off his cock and brings you up to him.

He doesn’t waste time bending you back over the three and shoving his fat cock into you. You let out a loud cry and dig your nails into the tree from the pressure and slight twinge of pain from the size of his girthy cock. It sits nice and snug against your walls, curved slightly upwards to press into your g-spot, not quite hitting it but brushing over it.

“Oh fuck,” you whisper out as your toes curl from inside your shoes.

When a couple more seconds pass of him just idly rocking into you, he pulls all the way out until only the head remains before slamming back in with a loud slap. You jolt in pleasure as a tiny scream escapes, he doesn’t let up and keeps the same harsh pace he started with. His cock punches deep into your pussy, poking at your cervix painfully as you yelp out in pain between your moans.

“Fucking hell,” he moans out while moving his hands from your hips to your bouncing tits, “got a nice little pussy n a pair of pretty tits just for me right sweetheart?” He slaps one of your tits before taking your pebbled little nipple between his fingers and meanly pinching it.

“Mm!” You arch your back and try to twist away from his bruising grip. He manages to grip your other tit and knead it in his big hand.

Loud squelching noises fill the space around you in the woods, some of your slick even drips down onto the ground with tiny wet splats. The sound is filthy and has your face burning up in embarrassment as you hide in your hands with low whimpers and whiny moans. He suddenly changes the angle and begins grinding his fat cock right up against your g-spot, pressing insistently as he hits it over and over again.

“Oh you like it there don’t you sweetheart,” he grins while rolling his hips in slow circles, “go on then, fuck yourself on my cock like the little whore you are. Get that pussy nice and soaked for me.” He growls quietly in your ear while pinching your nipples once more.

A quiet squeal erupts from your throat, you shakily manage to knock your hips into his in a sloppy pace. “Please,” you slur out as your eyes slip shut, “c-can’t do it,” your pace is nowhere near the same as before.

“Can’t what?” He moves one hand down between your thighs, “Hm?”

You press your forehead against the tree bark in defeat, sobbing quietly as you wiggle your hips side to side, “ ‘s not the same, need you to f-fuck me.” You shamefully admit.

“Like this?” He slaps his hips upwards, “Or like this sweetheart?” He purrs and begins plowing into your drenched pussy, stuffing his cock deep inside with every thrust.

You throw your head back with a loud moan, “Yes, yes!” More drool begins slipping from your chin as you part your legs a bit wider and arch your back.

He swears at you from under his breath while rolling your swollen clit between his fingers. The sounds of skin slapping against skin begin louder, his balls collide with your swollen puffy folds and your ass ripples from his pelvis from his harsh thrusts. “Little fucking slut,” he grits out through his harsh punishing thrusts, “fuckin’ mine you hear that? So help me you ever think of looking at someone else I’ll fuckin gut them like a fish n fuck you over their dead body.” He hisses, “Better yet covered in their blood.” He roughly smacks your clit.

You mewl loudly and go still, your pussy pulses like crazy as you feel your orgasm hit you at full force. You cum with your clit trapped between his fingers and his cock stuffed deep. The orgasm is so strong it knocks you off your feet as you wobble and shake like a newborn lamb. “P-Please,” you sob out.

“On your knees,” he growls while slipping from your drenched cunt, “fuckin’ look at me.” He aims his cock at your face and strokes himself with loud slick noises. You stare up at him with a dazed expression, too fucked out to reply. He cums with a low moan, making sure to coat your lips and face with his cum as he taps the head against your cheek, “Fuck…” He sighs in bliss while lazily flicking his wrist.

You blink slowly and the last thing you see is him picking his knife back up.

Jungkook hums under his breath while he lazily digs through his bowl of popcorn, he’s been switching channels for a couple of minutes now. Nothing good is ever on these days, he rolls his eyes and shakes his head while flicking through the channels.

“Oh,” his face lights up in joy, “baby come look at this,” he grins and turns the volume up all the way high, “found somethin’ perfect for movie night.” He turns to look behind him, eyes wild and filled with sadistic joy.

“She was last seen Friday in the evening by her parents who were only going a few towns over to visit family. Her friends have all stated she was supposed to be meeting them that night but never showed, one even said they had spoken to her hours prior about their plans to meet. They said she wasn’t acting suspicious or anything—”

A muffled sob erupts, the sound of a cage rattling heard next as Jungkook slowly turns to look at your cowering form. You look so adorable all curled up in the cage like that, mascara streaking and lips wiped red from your lipstick. “Don’t like that movie?” He pouts, “Pity.” He turns back around and replays the entire missing persons ad.

TAGLIST: @fragmentof-indifference @jungkooksseuphoria @kooliv @angelarin @jjeonjjk7 @lilliankoo @pb-n-juju @ellesalazar @saweetspoiled @laylasbunbunny @prettyprincejk @cherrysainttt @hyunjinswifeee @joongraduatewithonor @hellbornsworld @leire-mia @m1sss1mp @lissful @winkii @lifeless-firefly @exactlygreatcoffee @taestoess @ayalies @floweryjeons @softtcurse @lilspinachwrld @tearyjjeon @littleobsessedkitty @lovelovelovebts @angeljmnie @rerefundslocals @bangtans-mama @thvhoe @maddkitt @tvse @ohjeon @teteswtnr @jkslovey12 @kelsyx33 @milfpo1ice @sluttydidi @ztyur @beomgyuult @shescharlie @sweet-sourhotcoco @lalita-7 @hazzzelsdimension @p34rluv @kook-net @bonita0-0 @vmapy @dahliadaenerys @gukiebaby @babycandy111

[halloween m.list]

#bts #bts fanfction #bts fanfic #bts smut #jungkook x reader #jeon jungkook #jungkook smut

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mywritersmind · 3 months ago

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SIX TIMES TOO MANY (OR JUST ENOUGH?) - LN4

summary : in which the universe can’t seem to stop bugging you. six times when people thought of you and lando as more than childhood friends.

listen up : no warnings!! childhood friends! sometimes genuis just strikes🤷🏻‍♀️ requests for kimi franco and lando are open!!

word count : 820

⋆｡‧˚⋆

The first time it happened, you had laughed it off in a drunken haze of excitement.

“You and Lando!” Your best friend squealed, “You two hooked up, didn’t you!?” she hit your arm playfully, the biggest grin on her face as yours mirrored the opposite.

“Lando and I? No way!” You shook your head rapidly just as he danced up to the two of you, a drink in hand.

He spun you around and laughed in your ear and slurring his words as your friend gave a curious look.

The second time was an older woman complimenting you and Lando on the street, saying how lovely of a couple you were. Lando had laughed it off with ease.

The third time was far more embarrassing, a young fan had asked Lando to sign his cap and as he did, the kid grinned at you and whispered, “Don’t worry! I won’t tell anyone you’re in love!” He had skipped away after making your jaw drop.

Why did everyone think you were a couple? It was ridiculous and out of reach. You and Lando had been best friends since childhood, besides your first kiss, nothing had ever happened.

You weren’t blind, he was attractive. You just chose to ignore the way he mindlessly changed in front of you and how his curls fell in his face. You chose to not think about him winning a race, sweaty and exhausted, falling right into your arms as he whispered his thanks to you for just being there.

The fourth time someone mentioned it, it was your own bloody mother. She had liked a photo you sent of your group on vacation, replying with “Oh! You and Lando are just the sweetest. Open your eyes, love.”

It was mortifying, especially in public. It made things odd with Lando, after someone would mention it, he started to act squirmy.

He almost always had some sort of girlfriend, though he claimed he didn’t date.

The fifth time was by far the worst.

“I get it!” Your boyfriend had scoffed in your face, “I’ll always come second to him!” You had such a headache from trying to break things off with him that his last statement might as well have split your skull open.

“Him?”

“Norris! Just admit you’re ending things with me to be with him!” He stood up, paced the room, “I’m such an idiot.”

“What- That’s not the reason!”

“Sure! God Y/n you’ve always been drooling for him!” What the hell?

It was your turn to scoff, “Fuck you! I’m sorry you can’t imagine why anyone would break up with your dumbass but we’re done because I don’t fancy you like you do me! Don’t blame my friend.”

“Sure. ‘Friend’. Go cry to him.”

The sixth was the one to change everything.

“I never realized!” Max Fewtrell laughed with you, drinks in hand and leaning against the bar.

“Realized what?” You raised a brow, sipping your drink.

“Lando’s in love with you!” you almost spit out your drink, “I mean- I always figured he had a hard on for you but shit… he’s totally whipped!”

He’s drunk, you reminded yourself.

“Shut up Max.” It wasn’t funny anymore.

“I’m serious, Y/n!” He shook his head, turning towards Lando who was looking bored with a girl next to him, “He hasn’t gotten with anyone for months! That’s saying something! He talks about you all the time and fuck have you not noticed the way he looks at you?”

The way he looks at you? How could you not notice?

He does it just then, turning his head to face you two but keeping those magnetic eyes on you. His previous bored expression was gone instantly, a smirk gracing his face as his eyes stayed on yours. It practically made your heart skip a beat.

“Oh.” Is all you can manage before Lando looks back to the girl.

“I’m just saying… maybe all those times you complain about- when people think you’re a couple or would be perfect together, maybe they’re a sign.” Max gives you one last knowing look before his spot is replaced with Lando.

He leans against the bar in a lazy fashion, looking tired yet all his energy is focused on you, “Having a good night?” His voice- fuck that voice.

His voice which haunted your nightmares and fuled your fantasies.

“A weird one, definitely.” you laugh but it’s not really funny, Lando gives you a concerned look.

“You wanna leave?” and when he says it, you know he’d come with. You know he’d go anywhere for you.

“No.” You shake your head, looking up at the brunette and feeling your breath ragged and unfocused. You swallow, then smile, “Let’s dance.”

A grin breaks out on his face as you slip your hand in his, “Anything you want, Y/n.”

#fanfic #formula 1 fanfic #f1 imagine #lando norris #lando norris fanfic #f1 fanfic #f1 x reader #lando x reader #f1 fic #lando imagine

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reds-hoodies · 15 days ago

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I feel like on icy-cold days Dick would be sure to pull his siblings aside and absolutely smother their faces with Vaseline before heading out. It’s something his mom used to do if they ever stopped somewhere snowy to perform.

But why is he so agressive with it?? It’s like a solid minute and a half of him just smooshing their faces around like he’s kneading dough or something😭

“Gotta make sure every inch of skin is covered!” He’d say.

It has to be a test of their abilities, they all think, because they nearly pass out every time. Dick tries to reshape their fucking skull with the grease and they’re holding their breath because they don’t want to accidentally get it up their nose.

When he was younger, Jason used to sit through it no problem. He’d whine a little at first, but he wouldn’t complain. He honestly was just happy to be doted on by his older brother. Now though, he snatches the tub away from him and applies it himself. Dick tries to get the places he missed, but his hand gets slapped. And then he swipes his hand down the front of Jason’s face and runs away lol

Tim knows this hack but hates the feeling on his face. He stops in his tracks as soon as he spots Dick standing at the door with the Vaseline tub. Should he sprint back up the stairs to his room and hide? It’s tempting… But ultimately he just sighs in defeat and makes his way over to Dick.

He knows if he tries to run away, all that’ll come out of it is a broken chandelier, a torn jacket, and a greasy face. Might as well just get the greasy face without the broken stuff.

He’s learned.

Now Damian, he loves his brother, he does. But there is no way in hell he’s having that petroleum jelly touch his face. Try as he might to get away, bobbing and weaving out of Dicks reach, he always gets snatched up by one of the others (Jason) and is held down as he gets smothered. It’s all “Pthbt pthbt ptthhbhth” because he wouldn’t stop yelling and got some of it in his mouth 😔

He comes out of it looking like a wet, grumpy cat.

Dick is satisfied his brothers are ready for the cold. Shiny faces and all.

#dc #dc robin #batfam #dick grayson #Jason Todd #Tim Drake #damian wayne #Batman #cute #blurb #It’s been getting cold and I’ve been feeling nostalgic🤧🥹#I love mamma bird dick lol #red robin #red hood #nightwing #robin #my writing

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itsmarsss · 9 days ago

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bet. [Blitzø x Reader] (Helluva Boss)

(established relationship, talks about sex, blitz uses the word babygirl but otherwise gender neutral, will probably have a part 2 with the actual smut.)

“Well, that was really fucking awful,” Blitzø states, clearly irritated, as the two of you entered his office, and you already know how this was gonna go.

He was going to say he was annoyed because the double murder you’d all gone off to that morning had spiraled out of control, but when had any of your killings played out as planned? He was actually annoyed about his favorite coat getting partially burnt.

“Fucking Moxxie. Always gotta fuckin’ mess shit up,” he mutters under his breath as he begins undressing, taking the coat off first and examining the burnt fabric before disposing of it carelessly on the floor.

“Will you relax already?” You lean on his desk, crossing your arms over your chest. “We killed more than half our targets for the day and it’s not even noon yet.”

“Yeah well if we all followed the plan it wouldn’t have been such a mess.” His bow tie was the next to go.

“Blitz? I love you.”

He looks up at you, an unamused look in his face, stopping midway through sliding his suspenders off his shoulders. “Uh-huh, but what?"

"Why does there have to be a but? Could I not be telling you I love you just because?"

"You could. But I can feel a but in there."

"That's what she said."

He shoots you another unamused look.

“Okay, fine, but we got the job done, didn't we? Regardless of anything that might have happened."

“Oh stop licking their assholes,” he complains with an eyeroll, detaching the red skull charm from the collar of his shirt. “Catch,” he tells you, throwing it in your direction. You place it on the desk and he begins unbuttoning his somehow still pristine white shirt. “You just don’t want me to yell at him.”

“Well yeah? It would be a little hypocritical.”

He stops midway through undoing the buttons. “You saying I fuck up?” He questions, incredulous.

“Yes? All the time. We all do.”

He huffs in annoyance, unable to find a good retort within himself. Other than an ‘oh, fuck off’, of course. He only keeps undressing, taking the shirt completely off.

“Hey, it’s alright to be upset that your coat’s burnt. I know you liked it a lot.”

“What? I’m not ‘upset’ about it,” he air-quotes, mocking your voice with an accent that sounds nothing like yours. “‘S just a stupid fucking coat.”

“Whatever you say, pretty boy,” you extend your hands to take the shirt from him. “Stop leaving your clothes on the floor,” you reprimand, and he rolls his eyes again before collecting the discarded clothing from the floor and throwing it to you. You place everything except the coat on the chair next to you, inspecting the item for a moment. “Hey, it’s not that bad. We can go get it fixed tomorrow. And if they can't fix it I bet we can find another one just like it, we’ll just leave Millie and Mox to handle the morning kills. How ‘bout that?”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever. I’m taking a shower.”

“I can see that,” you grin, making sure to exaggerate on the once-over you give his shirtless body.

“Aw, c’mon, don’t look at me like that, you know I get horny when I’m mad!”

“What did I do?”

“You just checked me out!”

“Nuh-uh.”

“Uh-huh.”

“I did not.”

“Yeah you did you conniving witch!”

“Where the fuck did you even learn that word?”

“Honestly I don’t know what it means, but it sounded like it fit.”

“Surprisingly, it kinda does.”

“See? You picked a smart man.” He teases.

“Sure did. A nerd ,even, one might say.”

“Okay, nerd crosses a line.”

You let out a laugh and he unbuttons his pants, pulling the zipper down and taking them off, leaving him only in his ‘honse’ patterned underwear. He leaves the pants on the floor and turns around towards the tiny bathroom connected to his office to take his shower.

“What’d I say about leaving the clothes on the floor?” You call from behind him.

He stops, turning back to look at you. “It’s my office.”

“Doesn’t mean you should just leave stuff on the floor. You wouldn’t be all too pleased if I did the same-“ your voice dies out as you reach the end of your sentence and you purse your lips together, realizing your mistake:

“You’re more than welcome to leave your clothes on my floor right this second if you want to,” he smirks, raising his eyebrows up and down.

“Okay, okay, I walked right into that one. Go take your shower.”

“What? You’re evil, you know that?”

“What the fuck did I do?”

“You got me all hot and bothered now I’m not gonna be able to shower!” He explains, completely serious about it.

“I hardly think you wouldn’t be able to shower just ‘cause you’re a little horny.”

“I’m not a little horny, baby, I’m mega stupid thunder horny right now, c’mon.”

“Please don’t ever use those words together again.”

“Come shower with me,” he asks before he walks up to you, with a fake pout and puppy dog eyes, his hands on each side of you on top of the desk, caging you against it.

One of your hands is instinctively placed over his bare chest, running your fingertips over it. “You know I’d love to, baby, but we both know that shower doesn’t fit both of us,” you laugh at the memory- you’ve tried.

“Stupid fuckin’ tiny-ass shower,” he mumbles under his breath in frustration, eyes glancing at the floor for a moment as he very clearly tries to think of other alternatives. His mischievous grin quickly reappears as he looks back up at you. “Guess I’m just gonna have to fuck you here, then.”

Look, you’ve fucked in his office. That’s no taboo- few things are when it comes to him. You’ve fucked on the couch, you’ve fucked on the floor, against pretty much every wall, against the door, on his chair. You name it, you’ve done it. The only place in there you had yet to deprave was, funnily enough…

“Haven’t fucked you on this desk yet. Wanna try it out?”

"And then we can shower?"

"You still on about the shower thing? I'm trying to have some filthy raunchy passionate sex here."

"Oh silly me, I interrupted, sorry."

"Oh you're acting real funny today, aren't you? So what do you say?"

"Bet."

“Oh, fuck yeah.” His hands travel behind your thighs and he lifts you up into a sitting position on top of the desk behind you. “Gonna fuck you so good everyone outside’s gonna hear you screaming my name.”

“That’s presumptuous.”

“Stop making up words, babe, it ain’t cute,” he complains as wastes no time before placing open-mouthed kisses on your neck.

You roll your eyes at him. “You know what that one means.”

“No fancy words during sex, babygirl, it throws me off my rhythm. And it’s not ‘presumptuous’ if I can deliver, by the way.”

“See you do know what it- shit- what it means. Are you ever going to shut up and deliver, then?”

“Impatient, are we?”

“Yes. Now at least kiss me or I swear to fucking Satan I’ll-“

“Yup, that’ll do, shutting up now.”

#helluva boss #mars writes #blitzø #blitzo x reader #blitz x reader #helluva boss blitz #helluva boss blitzo #blitz helluva boss #blitz imagine #blitzo imagine #blitzø x reader #moxxie helluva boss #millie helluva boss #blurb #fluff #imagine #smut

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some-stars · 1 month ago

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logan/wade rough sex with wade crying!!!

okay, so obviously you know the context for this but for everyone else: this is a canon-divergence AU sequel to a fic of mine that I haven't finished yet. all you need to know is that Logan and Wade hooked up during Origins, fell for each other and ran off together, and also they are both fucked up but wade is very fucked up.

content notes: consensual sex but it's fucked up, face slapping, painful sex, possessiveness, masochism, praise, spit, kind of sweet despite all that. i'm high so i might have forgotten something, read at your own risk. i don't think i did tho!

The only thing that stops Logan from slamming Wade up against the wall the second the last body drops is the urgent need for them to get clear of the scene before the cops show up. As it is, they make it about half a mile before he snaps and drags Wade down an alley, the simmering anger in his skull boiling over at the way Wade laughs when he does it. It's clear Wade's still riding the high from the fight, and when his back hits the bricks he grins like crazy.

"All that killing got you so hot and bothered, huh, cupcake?" He bats his eyelashes like a goddamn cartoon. "You just can't wait till we get home to take it out on me? I'm not complaining, I love a nice nasty back alley fuck. Something about getting reamed five feet from a dumpster really tickles the old pickle."

Logan would love to be able to say that his hand moves without him meaning to move it, that he slaps Wade across the face on a blind, furious impulse. But that would be a lie. He chooses to do it.

He kisses Wade right after, because the flash of hurt and fear that crosses his face is too much to look at. Too much to think about, how right it feels to put it there. Wade melts into the kiss just like he always does, permanently desperate for affection no matter how much of it Logan gives him. Logan holds his face with one hand--the side he hit, hot and flushed with blood--and kisses Wade like he's claiming him, deep and demanding. When Logan takes his lower lip between his teeth Wade tenses and whimpers, anticipating pain, but Logan doesn't break the skin. He's already smelled enough of Wade's blood tonight, enough for a fucking lifetime.

He pulls back just enough to look Wade in the eye. "What the fuck were you thinking back there?"

The slap shook him but he’s already recovering, raising his eyebrows and starting to smirk. "Well, you know how it is when that battle haze comes over you. It’s all just flow state and instinct. And a dash of horny, once things really get going--"

Logan gives him a shake, maybe harder than he means to. It shuts him up, though, so maybe just hard enough. "You still don’t give a shit if you get killed," he says, low and dangerous. "Is that why you wanted to get into this mercenary gig? You got bored of not nearly fucking dying all the time?"

"I didn’t--"

"You got shot!"

"Grazed," Wade snaps, starting to struggle against Logan’s bruising grip. "I got lightly grazed, all those guys had terrible aim, it doesn’t even hurt anymore--"

This time when Logan kisses him he can't make himself hold back. The taste of blood sizzles on his tongue like lightning, sweet and hot, and the high hurt noise his teeth tear from Wade makes it hard to find any regret.

"You don't get to do that shit anymore," Logan growls. "You don't get to throw away what's mine."

It slides home as smooth as a skeleton key, unlocking Wade like he knew it would. His hips jerk forward and his head falls back against the bricks, already babbling an apology as he offers up his throat. Logan rewards him with a hand fisted tight in his hair to pull his head back even farther, and sharp teeth clamped down hard around the thick cord of muscle that runs from neck to shoulder. Not tearing him open, now, because he doesn't want that. He doesn't even want the blood, really, not when he's in his right mind. It's just that Wade still wants so badly to give it to him.

Logan hurts him like that until the apologies turn into begging, until his cock is as hard as Wade's where they're grinding together. "Please," Wade repeats, choked and thick.

"Yeah? You want something?" Logan kisses him again before he can answer, just long enough to feel Wade open up for him. It's not enough, though. Three fingers in his mouth feels closer to what he wants, and Wade sucks on them gratefully, moaning. Like any way Logan wants to be inside him is the best thing he's ever felt. He doesn't close his eyes, either, even though Logan knows he wants to, how hard it is for Wade to let Logan watch him like this. But Logan asked him for it, once. Before he knew just how careful he had to be about asking Wade to give him things.

"You want me to show you how you're mine?" Logan asks, and Wade nods and mumbles around the fingers in his mouth, incoherent and desperately affirmative. Logan pulls his fingers out and wipes them on Wade's cheek, leaving a thick smear of wet that glitters in the faint, distant glow of the streetlights. Wade shivers, finally squeezing his eyes shut, but offers no other protest.

(Not that he would. Logan's seen him come from being spat on, which was so nightmarishly arousing to watch that he hasn't tried it again since.)

When Wade had finally realized Logan was serious about refusing to fuck him dry, he'd become obsessive about stashing lube everywhere, including the pockets of his work clothes. Logan fishes the packet out now, and when Wade realizes what he's reaching for he almost trips over his own feet turning around so fast. With his cheek pressed to the wall, eyes closed, back arched to present himself, he looks ripped from the kind of magazine that gets sold in brown paper wrapping. The kind you have to ask for, at very specific stores. He looks obscene, and Logan hasn't even gotten his pants down yet.

It's the work of a moment to shove them down around his knees and get his own belt and fly open just enough so he can use the scant handful of lube on himself. Wade shudders at the wet sound, his back curving into an even deeper arch. A cat in heat, desperate to be put down. No matter how sweet Logan is to him it's always this waiting underneath, this shape that other hands bent Wade into long before Logan ever met him.

He loves Wade like this, because there isn't any way he doesn't love Wade; no possible shape of him that Logan wouldn't want exactly this much.

Logan pulls him open and forces his way in too fast, offering not even a breath for Wade's body to welcome him the way it always does, surely would if Logan gave him the chance, but he doesn't and Wade can't entirely swallow the little scream that slips out. His whole back tenses as his body struggles on instinct to get away from what's hurting it, but there's nowhere to go with the wall at his face and Logan boxing him in everywhere else.

Logan leans in close as he settles into a quick hard pace. Already Wade's breathing fast and scared, his hands balled into useless fists, all fear and misery, forgetting why he wanted this so fucking bad.

"You need someone to hurt you," he rasps into Wade's ear, "you don't pull that kind of dumb shit. You come to me."

Another harsh snap of his hips makes Wade's breath hitch. For a moment he goes even more tense and tight beneath Logan, and a trembling little moan slides past his lips. Logan thinks about stopping; doesn't.

"Come on, Wade," he murmurs. He licks the hollow behind Wade's ear. The slick of sweat that dissolves into his tongue tastes like honey. "Be good for me."

More magic words. Wade sobs and the panicky all-over clench of him eases a little, and a few moments later a little more. Logan's next thrust feels more like fucking, less like cruelty. Enough less, at least.

He smells Wade's tears before he sees them. "Good boy," Logan tells him, which makes him cry harder, but he thanks Logan anyway. Can't seem to stop thanking him, even as he sobs, and it's almost a shocked kind of sound, the way he cries, like a kid with their first broken arm.

God, it feels so fucking good. He's never going to be able to make Wade stop giving him everything because he likes it so much, he fucking loves it, every single time.

Wade comes almost as soon as Logan gets his hand around him, and Logan fills his ear with stupid praise as he works him through it, how he's so good, so tight, so sweet, so good for Logan, so fucking good to him, better than anybody should be.

Logan doesn't last long either after that, way too worked up do anything but give into it. Wade shakes as Logan fills him, his sobs slowing to sniffles and hitching damp breaths. Logan wraps his arms around him and nuzzles down into his neck, breathing him in deep, and for a minute they stay like that.

Logan waits for his cock to go soft and lets himself slip out as gently as he can. As soon as he's free Wade spins in his arms and grabs his face and kisses him, demanding. It's nothing Logan doesn't want to give him, so he does, all of it, everything Wade wants. Even when Wade breaks off and looks away, swallowing roughly, and says, "Tell me again."

"That you're mine?" Logan watches his eyes close. "You know you are."

"Yeah," Wade sighs. When he opens his eyes again he looks tender, exhausted. Soft. "So take me home already, daddy. It's past my bedtime."

"I fucking hate that daddy shit," Logan mutters. Wade falls into step beside him as he starts back down the street, so close they could be sharing an umbrella, stays soft and close and quiet the whole way home.

#deadpool #deadpool and wolverine #poolverine #origins poolverine #wanksgiving 2024 #smubbles #listen. i kept it under 2k. for me that's deserving of the -bble suffix

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fountainpenguin · 9 months ago

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My favorite thing ever about Anti-Cosmo and the Head Pixie is that you look at Anti-Cosmo and it's like-

"Oh, this is the stereotypical evil villain who is flamboyant, intelligent, suave, and in control! All the other magical antagonists probably defer to him." And then you actually watch him and he does stuff like-

Throw away his wand

Fly in circles at record speeds

Run away from confrontation

Write with colored pens and change color every sentence

Throw paper airplanes

Crash into things

Throw tantrums

Read comic books

Fly a private jet despite being able to fly and teleport

Keep cows in his castle

Keep a cat in his pocket

Stand on the fancy dining table

Pretend to be a scone

Break character as a scone by running away laughing

Defer to H.P. even in his own castle

Defer to his son even in his own castle

Raise an anti-fairy child with H.P. for some reason that's never explained, but which Jorgen has photo evidence of ?? You raised an anti-fairy with the leader of the Pixies ??

Also, knows H.P. and Jorgen well enough to recognize when Jorgen is actually H.P. in disguise??

And there's H.P. who wears a nice suit, works at Pixies Incorporated in the big city, and talks about puppeting people, so you approach thinking "Okay, this is the strict boss who wants all the paperwork filed. He represents why you shouldn't make deals with fairies because he has all these complicated contracts and he's not going to allow wiggle room. Dull and boring; got it."

But it turns out he likes to-

Go to raves

Sing rap songs

Breakdance

Spin on his head and drill into the floor

Wear flowers

Get drunk

Hang out in the hot tub

Climb on people's shoulders

Build miniature models

Fist bumps and finger guns

Call people "Dude"

Draw skulls on things

Say "Gasp" instead of gasping

Get up from his desk and dance around, announcing in monotone "Go me, go me; it's my birthday"

Listen to someone argue with him and then respond with "No, that's hilarious"

Also fly a private jet despite being able to fly and teleport

Elbow people in the side while teasing them

Feed you pizza by shoving his entire hand in your mouth

Stand right in front of you and prank call you

Wear two hats at the same time

Hop on a flying scooter, announce "The only thing you'll be eating is my dust! Later, dude!" and peace out

Complain too many people like him

Use babies as yo-yos

Also, H.P. won a footrace against Anti-Cosmo?? This man made the conscious choice to run instead of fly and he won!?

And that's not even getting into the cross-dressing or the fact that A.C. and H.P. grab each other and hug when they're scared. 10/10 character design. They are so silly...

#Fairly OddParents #FOP #Anti-Cosmo #Head Pixie #The Fairy Oddlympics #FAIRIES!#The bat with the hat #I'm wasp dad trash #screenshots

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nihilo-sensei · 11 months ago

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The Infamous Chuuya-SSKK Car Ride

Two. Fucking. Hours.

Akutagawa and Atsushi have been arguing for two hours almost non-stop and there's still an hour to go in the trip. If you had asked Chuuya before he climbed into this four-wheeled prison what the most annoying thing on Earth was, he would've said without hesitation that it was dealing with Dazai. That was a more innocent time, a time before life had decided to punish him for his every felony, misdemeanor, and wasted gallon of milk. He wasn't sure if these apparently nuclear-powered bickering machines being confined to the backseat was better or worse for him. Probably better; at least one half of the invective wasn't being spewed directly into his left ear.

As much as he wanted to blame a member of the Armed Detective Agency for all of his misery, he was disappointed to say that it had been his subordinate and fellow mafioso who started this. Granted it hadn't taken much to get the weretiger to dive down to Akutagawa's level, but he was just trying to make conversation, asking if Chuuya listened to much music. Honestly, the gravity manipulator would've been delighted to spend a three-hour car ride talking about music, even with an ADA member. It was kind of nice that the kid had reached for some common ground between them. Akutagawa really hadn't needed to cut Chuuya off before he had a chance to answer by saying, "No one cares, weretiger." That one admittedly rude remark had sealed Chuuya's fate for the rest of the ride out to the countryside. Thanks, Aku.

"You better not get in my way when we get there, weretiger. The Port Mafia doesn't need Least Beneath the Moonlight."

"I guess I'll leave the job to Brash-ōmon, then. Get over yourself."

How are they still coming up with new insults? Chuuya hadn't even had the energy to tell them to shut the fuck up passed the 35-minute mark, about 25 minutes after his throat started to hurt from trying to match their combined volume. It was like they didn't even hear him. They were in their own little world together.

That was what he'd been warned about, though, wasn't it? Akutagawa and the tiger boy had… tension. He had heard about it from Dazai, but hadn't given it much thought. After all, why would he bother listening to anything that mummy's asshole says off the battlefield? He would happily throw Dazai off a building if he wasn't sure it would make that freak even happier than it would make Chuuya. Something about this train of thought makes Chuuya feel like a hypocrite for some reason. Where was he?

"At least I don't dip my bangs in Wite-Out!"

"Your impoverished ass could only afford one bang!"

Oh right, this thick fog of something making itself at home in Chuuya's backseat and inside his pounding skull. He had thought it was just a joke or an exaggeration, but this much passion for each other? Could all of that really just be simple hate? No, this doesn't really feel like hate. But if they don't hate each other why tell themselves that they do? That's so self-destructive. They should just confront their feelings like adults. Even if those feelings aren't romantic they could still find themselves good friends, they have a lot in common. At least they'd stop making their sexual tension or whatever everyone else's problem.

Why does Chuuya feel like a hypocrite again?

—

Chuuya stares into the rear-view mirror. The new Double Black had practically passed out five minutes into the drive to Yokohama. Not surprising after the mission had turned out to be far more complicated then they had anticipated. He wasn't complaining, he really couldn't deal with another three hours of angry sound waves bouncing around an enclosed space. Truthfully, they'd earned the rest. Even when the situation was going to shit they'd worked well together. Atsushi kept Akutagawa's mind on the civilians while Akutagawa's support kept Atsushi calm and focused. Chuuya sees now why Dazai put them together, not that Chuuya would ever openly tell the man he was right.

So he'd let the pair sleep, only debating whether he should wake them up after the blessedly silent car had crossed the Yokohama city limit. He had glanced into the mirror and caught sight of something that made him suddenly redirect as much attention as he safely could to it. The Sun had set halfway through the drive so he had had to wait for the car to pass the next street light to get a good look at it, and sure enough he saw exactly what he thought he had. At some point in the drive Atsushi and Akutagawa had leaned into each other while they slept. Atsushi's head was now resting on Akutagawa's shoulder while the mafioso's head rested on top of the weretiger's. Chuuya smiled. Definitely not hate.

As the car nears the ADA office, where Atsushi is to be dropped off, Chuuya pulls into a gas station with a new mission in mind. After he puts the car in park he takes out his phone and hopes that fatigue keeps the pair asleep and unaware while he does what needs to be done. He gambles on using the flash and wins a nice, clear picture that's going to absolutely make his fucking day the next time Akutagawa decides to make him sit through another "that goddamn foolish weretiger" rant. But was it really fair to make just Akutagawa suffer when Atsushi was about as responsible for Chuuya's three-hour ordeal earlier? No. And isn't the ADA all about that justice shit?

Chuuya opens his text thread with Dazai, taps his thumbs to the screen a few times, and hands down Atsushi's sentence with the push of 'Send'. He only has to wait a few seconds before the weretiger's irritating superior responds.

Mackerel (21:04): Oh my god, thank you so much for this! How useful my dog is becoming!

You (21:04): I seriously can't do this with you right now, Dazai. Those little bastards almost wiped me out on the way to the mission. They argued the entire time. I'm fucking tired.

Mackerel (21:05): Impressive, isn't it?

"Impressive" was one way of putting it. "Never gonna happen again" was another.

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glossdebut · 3 months ago

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Take a Bite Ch. 4

✧ PAIRING: yoongi x fem!reader

✧ SUMMARY: Your fledgling career as a music journalist is finally going in some kind of direction that must be on the path to success. Your coworkers like you enough to invite you out on Fridays, your boss is starting to think you’re competent enough to let you score a few bylines, and you're finally getting the hang of InDesign. All of your hard work, late nights, and complete lack of a social life are starting to pay off... Even if it all came at the expense of the longest relationship of your life. Fine. You've accepted the fact that romance isn't for you, under any circumstances. You won't risk your career for anybody. Not even Min Yoongi.

✧ TAGS: slow burn, eventual smut, eventual romance, producer yoongi, music journalist reader, neighbors to friends to lovers? you'll see, reader is bad at feelings, reader is post-break up

✧ WARNINGS: mental health-related stuff for yoongi (past), seokjin being meddlesome, um... smut! surprise, it's here. min yoongi #1 munch

✧ WORDCOUNT: 5.1k

✧ STATUS: complete

✧ AUTHOR'S NOTE: hmmm hi hello. this chapter gave me problems, so sorry for the wait, but i'm actually really pleased with how it ended up. also, i'm adding the songs that inspire my chapter titles to every chapter from here on out, and going back to edit them into previous chapters. hope u enjoy!

Chapter 4: Just The Way That We Are

Yoongi loves his friends.

Yoongi’s friends have saved his life more times than he can count, and they keep him social, and they make him feel loved, and he loves them back. That’s what he has to remind himself of, anyway. Because he kind of wants to kill them right now.

He may whine and complain about them, but he enjoys their standing monthly plans—wellness checks, Namjoon dubbed them—much more than he lets on.

He knows himself, knows what he can be like sometimes. He knows that he spends more time in the studio than he does at home. He knows that when he gets sucked into working on a track he’s shit at taking care of himself. He likes to think that he’s better about it now.

There was a time, though, not all that long ago, where it wasn’t uncommon for him to sleep on the ratty couch in his studio more days out of the week than his own bed. A time where he survived on massive cups of coffee and treated showers as rewards for figuring out why his songs were so fucking bad. A vicious cycle of bleeding nailbeds and uneaten cup ramen and the sound of a metronome making him want to bash his skull against his desk. A spiral.

A spiral that ended abruptly when Seokjin weaseled the door code for Yoongi’s studio out of Namjoon and found him sitting in the dark muttering at his computer screen, several pounds lighter than the last time Seokjin had seen him.

Seokjin was nice to Yoongi about it. He didn’t judge when he had to peel Yoongi out of his chair and force dinner into his mouth. Even when he had to sit in the bathroom with him as he showered, just in case Yoongi passed out. He didn’t make any jokes. That’s how Yoongi knew that he’d fucked up, back then. How he knew that he’d really scared Seokjin. Not one goddamn joke.

So, wellness checks were born. The seven of them gathering monthly, always at Yoongi’s apartment, to spend time together. Sometimes they eat dinner, sometimes they play video games. Most of the time they drink. Wellness checks, plus Seokjin popping in on random nights between to make Yoongi dinner, have kept Yoongi from spiraling for almost two years now.

So really, Yoongi does love his friends. They keep him afloat, hold him accountable.

They’re also annoying, nosy little motherfuckers that won’t stop hounding him about you.

It starts like this: Yoongi is minding his business, like always.

He’s burrowed into the couch, watching an argument unfold between Jeongguk and Seokjin over who gets to play as Mario in Mario Kart. He’s been drinking from the huge bottle of whiskey you bought him all night, and he’s lost count of how many he’s had now. He’s really fucking focusing on this argument. Jeongguk and Seokjin both talk too fast, especially when they’re yelling at each other.

And even though aside from being drunk Yoongi is being completely fucking normal, Hoseok mistakes his silence for, like, contemplation or melancholy or something stupid like that, when really he’s just waiting for Jeongguk to win and get to play as Mario, like always.

“Hyung, you’re being quiet,” Hoseok says, and suddenly it feels like all eyes are on Yoongi. The only other person he could be talking about is Seokjin and Seokjin can very rarely be described as quiet.

“He’s thinking about his lady love,” Seokjin says. Case in goddamn point. “His neighbor. She’s cute, but Yoongi-yah has no game.”

And really, fuck him. Seokjin may be one of Yoongi’s favorite people on the planet—he’s just drunk enough to acknowledge it—but that was just uncalled for. No game?

Yoongi has come to terms with the fact that he likes you, but it’s also really not that goddamn serious. He would be an idiot not to. You’re pretty, you’re intelligent, you’re interesting. You have real aspirations and you’re going for them with everything you’ve got, so that makes you cool in his eyes.

Sometimes you post songs you like on your Instagram story, and Yoongi doesn’t even really use Instagram that often, but when he checks it, it’s almost always a song he likes. And if it’s not, he listens to it when he has a few minutes, and he ends up liking it anyway. It makes him feel like… He doesn’t know. It’s nice. Kind of sexy, somehow.

He thought about kissing you that day in his apartment before Seokjin barged in and sent you flying across his kitchen. Fuck, he wanted a taste. But Yoongi can read a cue, and you’ve made it abundantly clear that you don’t have time for dating.

So, yes. He likes you. But he also understands you, because he’s been you. Seokjin seems to be under the impression that Yoongi is stuck in some kind of dramatic unrequited love situation, because that is the way that Seokjin thinks love works, but he just met you. He’s happy to be your friend, if that’s what you want. That’s why he offered it in the first place. Yoongi respects your boundaries enough to listen to you the first time when you say you don’t date. Simple as that. Being your friend isn’t some kind of consolation prize to him.

Also, rewind—once again, no game? Yoongi is a master in the art of flirtation, thank you very much. What the hell does Seokjin know about having game? All he has is his stupid face and his height, Yoongi thinks bitterly. One day, his stupid face will become ugly, too, because that is the way of the world. Seokjin will have nothing, but Yoongi will still have his words.

He’s opening his mouth to say something to that effect, but of course, everybody has something to say after Seokjin’s betrayal.

“Hyung likes a girl? Since when?” Jimin asks. Yoongi presses his lips into a thin line.

Jeongguk chimes in. “She’s cute? Hyung, why does Seokjin-hyung know she’s cute? Why does he get to know everything first?”

“The one in the apartment down the hall, hyung?” Hoseok. Waggling his eyebrows like he knows more. Seokjin is going to die.

“She lives down the hall? Can we meet her?” Taehyung.

Morons, Yoongi thinks.

“You’re all crazy,” he complains, pinching the bridge of his nose. He can feel himself getting pink, the six pairs of eyes on him making him bristle. He ducks his head, sinking further into the couch. “Why do you want to meet my neighbor so bad? Quit being weird. No.”

“Leave Yoongi-hyung alone,” Namjoon says, and see? That’s why Yoongi likes him! Very diplomatic, as per usual.

“Thank you, Joon-ah.”

“He can be a pussy all he wants.”

Oh, okay!

Yoongi is going to strap Kim Namjoon to that mechanical bull with rope next time and then leave him for dead.

“Is that what they taught you in your gender studies course, Kim Namjoon?” Yoongi hisses, crossing his arms over his chest defensively, but before Namjoon can defend himself, Seokjin is speaking.

“You should invite her over, Yoongi-yah.” Yoongi hates how soft his voice sounds about it. Like he’s trying to be gentle with Yoongi’s feelings or something.

He sighs, sitting up.

“It’s really not like that,” Yoongi insists, his frustration mounting as he rubs at his temples. “I’m sure you’re all going to meet her at some point, okay? Because we’re friends. But not tonight. Stop trying to be matchmakers. It’s pissing me off, and you’re all ass at it, anyway.”

That seems to be effective in shutting them down, but now Yoongi is faced with six guilt-laden expressions. He softens a bit. He’s being too harsh, he realizes. They barely said anything, and they mean well. He knows that.

“Look, I just met her, and we haven’t had many opportunities to hang out,” he says, more gently this time. “We’re both busy. I don’t know her that well yet, and I don’t want to overwhelm her with… meeting the family so early on.”

“Sorry, hyung,” Namjoon says. Yoongi shakes his head.

“It’s fine. I just need all of you to drop it for now,” he says.

Everyone seems to agree. Even Seokjin, which is the biggest relief of all.

He knows why Seokjin is trying to push this. Why they all are.

When he told you he understood you, that he got it, he really meant it. He’s been fucked over before, more than once. Not for the same reasons as you, but he can imagine it probably hurts the same.

Relationships in general have never really been high up on Yoongi’s priority list to begin with. In his eyes, it can be nice when it happens, but he doesn’t reach for it.

He’s done the casual sex thing, but he never needed it like some people claimed to. Yoongi can relate to feeling like a shaken up soda can ninety-nine percent of the time, but one night stands don’t do much to relieve the pressure for him. In the end, casual caused more problems for him than it solved, so he doesn’t do that anymore. Doesn’t really want to again.

He’s done the relationship thing, too. That was better. The feeling of falling in love is… Well, he got lots of songs out of his last relationship, that’s for sure. He fell pretty hard, so hard that he didn’t even feel like himself. His friends were tickled. Min Yoongi, who gets so prickly about public displays of affection, kissing his girlfriend in the middle of a crowded street, just because! Not caring when it ended up online. Feeling proud, even. Putting that kind of trust into someone else made him feel so much lighter. Anyway, he got a lot of songs out of the breakup, too.

It’s been a long time since Yoongi has shown interest in anyone, even to a minute degree. He can’t blame his friends for wanting to play the six Bingleys to his Darcy, but he’s not going to push you, and he’s not going to put you in a room with his friends who are afraid hes going to die alone and let them try to push you either. If you decide you want him, he wants it to be real.

The rest of wellness check night goes by relatively smoothly, all things considered. Jeongguk does, in fact, end up playing as Mario despite Seokjin trying to play the hyung card over it. He also wins so much that Jimin’s eye starts twitching. All in all, it’s a pretty normal night.

Yoongi thinks that he’s successfully evaded further probing about you, until he finds Seokjin lingering by the door after the rest of them have filtered out.

“Yoongi-yah,” he says in that same soft tone from earlier.

“I don’t want to hear it, hyung.”

“I know you don’t, but you’re going to hear it anyway.” His voice is firm.

Jeongguk may not fall victim to Seokjin’s hyung card easily, but Yoongi does. He always does. So he sighs, waving a hand for Seokjin to get on with it.

“Invite her to your studio.”

“What?” Yoongi asks, scoffing. His studio is sacred. “Why?”

“You said you don’t get to see her that often, but you don’t want to bring her around us yet,” Seokjin says, looking at Yoongi like he’s dumb. “She’s a writer. You can write anywhere, Yoongi-yah.”

“She has an office,” he says flatly, and Seokjin groans, rolling his eyes like Yoongi is being obtuse.

“It’ll be like when we go fishing. We don’t really talk much, but the silence is nice. It’s still quality time. You can spend time together without taking time away from work for both of you.”

Yoongi opens his mouth to protest, but when Seokjin says it like that, it doesn’t sound so bad. It could work, if you’re open to it… He thinks he remembers Namjoon going on about, like, children doing what Seokjin is proposing—parallel play, or whatever—but it could work.

“Maybe,” he says finally.

“No, it’s okay,” Seokjin says, grinning. “You can admit that I’m a genius. The world may think that it’s you, but I’m the real brains of this operation.”

“Go home, hyung,” Yoongi huffs, pushing Seokjin out the door. He shuts it behind him, hearing his hyung’s screechy laugh descending down the hall.

It’s not a bad idea.

★ ★ ★

You’re in Yoongi’s studio, and it feels like a very bad idea.

On your part, at least. It was actually unbelievably sweet, the way Yoongi proposed it. Which does not help your problem in the slightest.

It’s been several weeks since you’ve last seen him in person, all of your correspondence with him taking place over text. Busy, busy, you claim to be, and you have been, but you had been terrified Yoongi was going to start thinking you’ve been avoiding him. You also feel so, so guilty that he would’ve been right.

You just haven’t been able to figure out how to look him in the eye after… your recent thoughts about him. Thoughts that have been pervading your mind ever since you admitted to Rina that yes, you very much would like to find out what his cock would feel like inside of you.

You fully intended to continue avoiding seeing him in person until you could figure out either A) how to stop those thoughts entirely, or B) how to ask him if he would be down to clown in a completely casual, platonic manner. You’ve been coming up empty on both.

And then you saw that he’d texted you, looking at your phone right as the rest of your coworkers were filtering out of the office and you were hunkering down for another two hours minimum of work, and once again, you couldn’t bring yourself to say no to him. Not when he always somehow seems to know the right things to say.

[5:57] Yoongi: If you get stuck while you’re writing tonight, you should come by the studio. Change of scenery might help.

[5:58] Yoongi: Haven’t seen you in a while and I’ll be here late. Plus I’d bet good money that you haven’t eaten dinner yet, and I’m about to order some.

[6:00] Yoongi: Do you need any more incentive? My company should be enough.

[6:10] Do I need to bribe you with those raps you keep bothering me about? I’ll show you 30 seconds of ONE.

You really hadn’t been ignoring him that time, and thankfully you were able to open them only ten minutes after his last text. He knows your texting habits well enough at this point to know that you either respond instantly or take forever, caught up in whatever it is you’re working on. It’s almost like he’s nervous you’ll say no, which is just… He’s cute. Whatever. You said yes.

The problem is, now you’re in his studio, sitting on his couch with your laptop perched on your thighs, picking at the remnants of the takeout he’d ordered, trying and failing miserably at focusing on your work.

It was a lovely idea on his part to invite you to work in silence with him. It was so sweet. It’s not his fault that you can’t focus, that for the past thirty minutes all you’ve been doing is trying to figure out how to ask him to bend you over his desk. Because you’ve officially made your decision on that.

You decided about ten minutes after you arrived, in fact. The thirty seconds of the rap he’d promised to play you made a strong argument (Seokjin wasn’t joking about college Yoongi being shameless) but you held your resolve to put the idea of having sex with Yoongi out of your mind.

No, it wasn’t the filthy, explicit bars spat out in his gravelly voice that did you in. It was the sight of him sitting in his chair, noise-cancelling headphones on, tapping away at his midi. Surrounded by expensive equipment, plaques outlining achievements, a guitar hanging on the wall. There’s a coffee cup on his desk that you can only imagine has been sitting there since the morning. From where you're sitting, you can see him in profile: his eyes sharp and focused, his tongue peeking out from the corner of his mouth. Like he can do this all night. In his element.

In short, you find it sexy that he’s a workaholic just like you. You don’t want to think too hard about that at all.

He has one ear of his headphones shifted behind his ear in case you need him for something (also sexy), so you set the takeout and your laptop on the coffee table, clearing your throat.

“Yoongi,” you say softly.

He hums in response, his eyes still focused on the monitor in front of him.

“Can I talk to you about something?”

At that, he clicks a few more times on his computer before tearing himself away, taking off his headphones and turning his chair to face you.

“What’s up?”

You take a shaky breath, sitting up a little from where you’ve burrowed on the couch. This isn’t a big deal, you remind yourself. The worst he can say is that he wouldn’t be into it, and Yoongi hasn’t given you any indication that he’s a judgy guy.

“So, I told you that I don’t really have time to date,” you say, hoping he doesn’t think you’re insane for starting a conversation like that.

“You mentioned it,” he says, raising an eyebrow at you.

“Right. So, that’s true,” you say, fiddling with the sleeves of your sweater to give your hands something to do. “I don’t want to date anybody right now. But… I, um.” You look down at your hands in your lap. You’re losing steam, losing confidence. Is there a right way to do this? If there is, you’re sure you’re not doing it. But Yoongi is patient. He sits quietly, waiting for you to find the right words.

It takes you a second, your mounting anxiety causing you to change course in the middle of your sentences, but you finally get them out.

“You’re so… I like being your friend, a lot. And I don’t want that part of our relationship to change. But I was wondering if…” A breath. You need to spit it out. “I’m like, horribly attracted to you. And I was wondering if you’d want to do, like, a friends with benefits thing?”

You cringe at yourself. You’ve never done something like this before, and it shows. You’re completely prepared for Yoongi to laugh and say no, to go back to his work. But when you look up, your breath catches in your throat.

Yoongi’s eyes are so, so dark. You don’t know what to make of the way he’s looking at you. It’s not the same look he gave you the night you met, when you were both harmlessly flirting. The way he looked at you in his kitchen is closer, but it’s still not the same. There’s something else there, something you don’t recognize. He crosses his arms over his chest.

“Is that what you want?” he asks, his voice as low as you’ve ever heard it. Serious.

You shiver, but you nod and soldier on.

“I don’t want you to think it’s weird that I want that,” you say, standing your ground. “But yes. That’s what I want.”

Yoongi is unmoving, maybe taking a moment to consider your offer, and you can’t take it. Your heart is about to beat out of your chest. He needs to stop fucking looking at you like that.

Finally, he speaks. “It’s not weird,” he says. Nothing else. You wait, tortuous seconds passing by, expecting some kind of verdict, a yes or no, but it never comes. You break.

“Yoongi...” He hums. “...Do you want to fuck me?”

You watch as Yoongi licks his lips, his eyes raking over you shamelessly. Apparently that was the right thing to ask.

“You have no idea how badly I want to fuck you.”

The air in his studio thickens, just like that. Fuck. You feel like you’re going to die before he gets the chance.

“Show me,” you breathe.

Yoongi assesses you for just a moment longer before standing from his desk chair, crossing the small space of his studio to sit beside you on the couch. His body is turned towards you, so you turn in kind, swallowing thickly.

He reaches to tuck a strand of your hair behind your ear, his thumb brushing over your cheek in the process. His touch leaves a trail of heat over your skin, making you gasp, closing your eyes. There’s no alcohol warming you this time, making your head feel fuzzy, not right now. It’s just Yoongi, maybe it’s just been Yoongi the whole time, making you feel so affected by so little.

“I’m not fucking you tonight,” he says. Your eyes snap open, a protest at the tip of your tongue, but he beats you to the punch. “Not tonight. Let’s start with something easy, baby.”

Baby.

“Easy?” you breathe. You’re half-convinced you’ll go along with anything he says. Take anything he sees fit to give you. He hasn’t even done anything. You’re screwed.

He nudges his nose against yours, his hand sliding down from your hair to cup your jaw, the other rubbing gentle circles into your hip. “Easy,” he murmurs, and then his lips are on yours, the sensation stealing all of the breath from your lungs.

Yoongi’s kiss is slow and exploring, unhurried, thorough, like he has all the time in the world to take you apart piece by piece and he intends on using it. You feel yourself whimper against his lips, your hands coming up to fist in his shirt, as if you can’t get him close enough.

His tongue teases at the seam of your lips. They part easily for him, and fuck, kissing has never felt like this before, made your whole body burn. You’re no virgin, for fuck’s sake. You and your ex had plenty of sex, and it was even good, but if just kissing Min Yoongi feels like this, you’re not prepared for what it’ll be like when he fucks you. Maybe he’s right to start with something easy.

Apparently, though, Yoongi has other plans.

He pulls back from the kiss, squeezing your hip. “Don’t worry, baby. I’ll still take care of you,” he says, trailing heated kisses from your jaw down to your neck. “You want me to?”

“Yes,” you pant, uncaring of how desperate you must sound. It’s all out in the open now, no use in hiding it.

Yoongi chuckles as his hands find the hem of your sweater, sliding under it to feel your feverish skin. “Stop me whenever,” he murmurs against your neck, squeezing your breasts over the fabric of your bra.

When you don’t reply, his fingers expertly locate a nipple through the fabric, pinching it lightly, and you breathe out a gasped ‘okay.’ He hums, pleased, his mouth claiming yours again as he continues to run his hands over your body.

You only break the kiss when one of his hands pauses at the waistband of your pants, but it sure as hell isn’t to stop him.

“Touch me,” you encourage, your forehead pressed against his.

Yoongi wastes no time, and you watch as his hand disappears under the fabric, thanking your lucky stars for dress pants with elastic waistbands. His fingers slide beneath the fabric of your panties to slip through your folds, and you both groan when he finds you drenched.

“Fuck,” he hisses, running his fingers up and down your slit slowly. “You’re soaked, baby. How long were you sitting here thinking about me fucking you?”

“Pretty much the whole time,” you admit weakly, your hips jolting when he circles your clit, a shaky moan falling from your lips.

His hand retreats from your pants, and before you can react, he’s rising from the couch, pushing the coffee table out of the way with his foot and sinking to his knees in front of you.

“I’ve gotta taste you,” he says, his expression almost pained as he tugs at your pants. “Can I?”

Who the fuck are you to say no to that?

You nod your consent eagerly, lifting your hips up so he can pull your pants and underwear off all in one go. Once you’re bare from the waist down, Yoongi slides his hands up your calves, positioning your legs so they’re spread wide, your feet planted on the couch on either side of you.

The way he looks at you then, almost worshipful, his jaw slack and pupils blown as he stares at your core... He looks almost as wrecked as you feel.

“Look at you,” he breathes, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallows, and then he’s surging forward, his tongue flattening to lick a broad stripe over your pussy.

“Yoongi,” you moan, your head falling back against the cushion behind you as your hands fly forward to tangle in his hair. Encouraged, he licks into you over and over, like he’s trying to devour you, his nose grinding against your clit as he works his jaw. “Fuck!”

Yoongi pulls back and you force yourself to lift your head, moaning at the sight of your slick all over the lower half of his face.

“Taste so fucking sweet,” he groans, trailing two fingers through your folds again to tease at your entrance. “You want more?”

“Please,” you whimper, and he grins, his fingers sinking into your pussy with little resistance. He curls them up, searching for the spot that will make your vision go white. When he finds it, you cry out, your back arching, and he leans forward again to wrap his lips around your clit, sucking at it.

It’s all too much, so fucking good you think you might die if he keeps going. Shit, you’ll die if he stops, too. He better not fucking stop.

“D-don’t stop,” you whimper, and he hums against your clit, making your eyes roll back as his fingers quicken into a steady, relentless pace.

It becomes clear he has no plans to stop, to tease, that he wants to push you over the edge just as much as you want to fall.

He uses his free hand to nudge your thigh, guiding one of your legs over his shoulder. The other follows suit, and before long, you’re practically squeezing his head between the plushness of your thighs, your moans coming out unbidden.

With one particularly hard suck to your clit, you’re gasping for breath, your eyes squeezing shut. All of the tension in your body snaps at once and your hips push into his touch, grinding against his fingers and his tongue as your orgasm washes over you in waves.

“Yoongi, Yoongi, fuck,” you mewl, your hips moving of their own accord as you ride out the high, your skin buzzing with heat.

Yoongi’s fingers slow their pace but he doesn’t stop, milking your release for all it’s worth until you’re pushing his head away weakly, trying to catch your breath.

Finally, he relents, sitting back on his heels, his breaths just as labored as yours. He withdraws his fingers, sucking them into his mouth to lick your release off of them.

“Holy shit,” you pant, running your hands over your face, and Yoongi laughs.

“Good?” he teases, and you nod, slumping back against the couch. Good feels like an understatement, and you can tell he knows that. You can only imagine the reason for that slightly smug look on his face is from the sheer speed with which he made you come. You’d be embarrassed about it if he didn’t look so turned on, his eyes running over your body like he’s deciding whether he wants to go for seconds.

After a moment, he moves to stand up, wincing at the tension in his knees. Your eyes zero in on his cock straining against the material of his sweatpants instantly, your bottom lip caught between your teeth. Fuck, you want that. You want it so bad. Why won’t he give it to you? Your staring doesn’t go unnoticed.

Yoongi shakes his head. “Not tonight, Y/N,” he says, and you make a pitiful noise. Why he wants to deny himself a blowjob is beyond you.

He slips his hand beneath the waistband of his sweatpants (right in front of you, the tease) to give himself a placating squeeze and adjust himself. “Next time,” he promises, bending at the waist to cup your cheek and kiss you again.

You taste yourself on his lips, pulling him further by the front of his shirt. He lets you, bracing a hand on the back of the couch to keep himself steady. “You sure?” you breathe between hot, needy kisses. He groans and you think, for a moment, that you might be able to persuade him to change his mind. But then he’s pulling away again, and you whine.

“Next time,” he repeats, grasping your wrist and gently removing your hand from his shirt so he can stand up straight. He looks at his watch. “I doubt anyone is still here, so I’m gonna go get some stuff to clean us both up.” You nod, relenting.

You laugh softly as he adjusts his erection again, at the way he huffs when he can’t get it to look any less obvious. He flips you off at the sound of your laughter, but you can tell there’s no heat behind it.

Once he gives up, he dips his head out the door to check for anyone who could be lingering out there, then retreats from his studio into the hallway. You hear the whir of his door lock as he secures it behind him, ensuring that no one will walk in on you in this state, and then you’re alone.

Sated as you are, the reality of what just happened sinks in quickly. Yoongi ate you out in his place of business. Insane! But to your surprise, it doesn’t feel as major as you were worried it would. Your heart swells at the idea that all of the confidence and trust you had in Yoongi to be upfront with you wasn’t misplaced, that he really is okay with this arrangement. It’s too early to tell, but it already feels like things will stay the same between the two of you.

With the added benefit of sex. Insanely good sex, if what you just experienced is anything to go by. You’re already thinking of the next time that he promised.

You make a mental note to send Rina a fruit basket or something in Paris. She deserves it.

✧ shoot me a reply or an ask if you enjoyed this chapter! feedback is always appreciated <3 join my taglist if you want to be tagged in future chapters!

@dollfaceksj @jajabro @butterymin

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ossiethegreat · 5 months ago

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somebody on tiktok was complaining about fans headcanoning their favorite characters to self harm so I drew this out of spite!!! HELP

I need Color to kiss Killer’s scars and hold him close and call him pretty

anyway

Killer belongs to rahafwabas

Color belongs to superyoumna

headcanons below!!! CRIES AND SCURRIES AWAY (Tw self harm talk)

Somebody on my discord server once posted some art and said they headcanoned killer to test the sharpness of his knives with his bones and I STARED AT THE SCREEN LIKE WHATT 🙁🙁🙁🙁🙁

The way they aren’t even wrong!! I personally think Killer would usually use his victims instead cause yk he’s a little bitch, but I guess if it’s convenient 😭😭

But anyway in general, obviously Killer is very desensitized to self harm and death and pain and whatever, and since he was always brought back with the resets good as new, I don’t think he ever cared for getting hurt and sometimes he’d do it just out of curiosity or boredom. Since he doesn’t really feel much and he’s gone through MUCH worse, he does NOT care and he doesn’t see it as an issue.

And then Color had to teach him why it’s bad and he just stared at him like “huh”

Anyway!!!!

With Color, I think with all that time in the void, with absolutely no stimulation or socialization with anybody but Gaster, he went just a little crazy!

I think he had grown a habit of picking the cracks of his skull, as well as the cracks on his body until it bled (totally not projecting). Gaster tried to get him to stop but it became an involuntary habit of his and he still sometimes finds himself fidgeting.

Another thing, I think after just moving to the Omega Timeline, he sometimes took really hot showers, touched burning objects, or just random small things that would inflict pain on his body. Being in the void, he kinda forgot what those small things felt like, and even if it’s not a preferred feeling, he missed having that stimulation. Yeah guys I’m very good at putting my thoughts into words!!!!!!! HELP ME

okay that’s all 😓😓😓

#sans au #color sans #killer sans #utmv #undertale au #color spectrum duo #tw scars #tw self harm #tw self harm talk #CRIES #I was very excited to talk about color

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reriart · 5 months ago

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maybe it’s the tav I’m currently playing but I am so fixated on a tav absolutely convinced Astarion does not find her attractive despite the obvious, him sleeping with her x2, openly complimenting her etc etc and that leading too sloppy, emotional sex between the two, what do you think?

Dear anon,

thank you so much for asking me, I hope you'll like it! Since I suffer from body dysmorphia, I thought I'd put this topic inside the fic, I hope it's ok for you!

Let me worship you

Tags/CW: +18 MDNI, afab Tav, very smut, body dysmorphia, plus size tav, depression and panic attacks, Tav is a bit insecure and jealous, oral and piv sex, body worshipping, Astarion is a lil angry, tadpole connection, the infamous knee, Astarion is both dom and sub here.

English is not my native language. Link to AO3.

Divider by @cafekitsune

‘What's wrong with me?’

That question keeps buzzing in your head, loud as if you had a wasp nest right in your skull instead of a tadpole.

‘Why can't I be as beautiful like them?’

The knot in your stomach makes the bowl of fruit porridge Gale prepared, now in your hands, appear heavy and uninviting. The scent of apples, enticing until moments before, makes you nauseous.

Your gaze rests first on Lae'zel, then on Shadowheart and finally on Karlach. The toned body of the githyanki, the refined beauty of the half-elf, the marble muscles of the tiefling.

Then you observe yourself: your soft belly, your scarred skin, your ruined nails. Your right hand touches your round cheek, your hair loosely tied back. You try to push back the tears and you are out of breath, heart beating faster. You look up and notice Astarion's ruby-red ones staring back at you, one eyebrow raised and jaw clenched.

‘Apologies,’ you say, standing up sharply, your voice louder than expected. ‘I think I'll go for a swim. Sorry Gale, I don't have much of an appetite.’

‘Don't worry, if you get hungry again I'll cook you something later,’ he replies, his round, soft eyes barely concealing concern. This is the third time this week you've skipped meals because of your anxiety attacks.

The others continue chatting, but as you leave the camp, you feel eyes hovering over your back.

With almost painful slowness, you reach the small beach behind the rocks. Wyll and Karlach are laughing as Gale rambles on about something as usual - you don't catch the words as you undress, but you can sense the lightness of their conversation, a conversation you would like to witness and laugh about, too.

But the voice in your head - and not your prismatic friend's one - but your own, the darker side of you, only complains. ‘You've gained weight’, “you're horrible”, “Astarion will leave you”.

You don't really know how to define the relationship between you and him. You haven't declared eternal love for each other or who knows what, and you're pretty sure he's simply using you as a walking blood bag and easy sex.

Probably, after every night spent together, he has done nothing but whine about you.

The thought of the vampire mocking your feelings is the catalyst that finally triggers your tears. You feel them, warm against your skin, silently sliding down to your lips.

You lick one away, and wipe the rest with the back of your hand.

Your foot treads the water, trying to sense whether the temperature is acceptable or not. It is a little cold, actually, but perhaps that is just what you need right now. You glide silently through the small, dark waves, which wrap around you like a blanket. You put your head under the water, inhibiting all external noises.

You have always loved water. There, you do not feel the weight of your body, you do not see it for what it is, and when you sink, then all contact with the outside world disappears. You let gravity bring your body to the surface, and you spread your arms wide. You gaze at the moon, full and pale, wishing to be just a tiny dot in the sky.

Your vision blurs with tears and you close your eyes, letting the gentle rhythm of the water lull you.

Just as you are about to open your eyes again, you feel claws grab your shoulder and you're about to scream, but a hand blocks any sound you try to make. You notice two red irises staring at you and pointed ears peeping out from a cloud of silver hair.

‘Astarion, what the heck, you scared the hell out of me!’ you mutter as soon as you free your lips. ‘I didn't hear you coming.’

‘That was the point,’ he replies, oddly serious, his flirty, sassy façade strangely lacking. ‘We need to talk.’

Your heart jumps back to your throat once more as anxiety assails you. You spin around so that you are back on your feet and turn to face him.‘Is something wrong?

Do you need blood? I haven't eaten and I don't have much strength, but if you…’

‘That's the point,’ he snips sharply, his gaze as piercing as one of his daggers. ‘And I'm not talking about the blood. Why aren't you eating?’

It is not the first time Astarion has asked this: it had already happened in the past few days, yet he seemed more concerned. Now… he looks almost furious.

‘I'm not hungry, okay?"

‘No, it's not okay,’ he replies dryly, his thick white eyebrows wrinkling his forehead.

‘What, are you afraid your roaming snack has no more blood for you?’ The answer escapes your lips in a tone between ironic and hysterical and you roll your eyes. ‘Don't worry, as you can clearly see I'm not starving, and I'm sure you won't have any of these problems either while I'm around.’

Astarion's eyes grow big with astonishment and you see him step back, as far as he can, into the water.

‘Is… is that what you think you are to me? A snack?’ His voice is broken, bitter. ‘Do you value what's between us so poorly?’

The feelings of guilt and anger grow in tandem. ‘Tell me, Astarion, is it not the truth? Perhaps I am the only thing vaguely fuckable and edible h-’

His lips crash against yours as he grasps both your cheeks with his hands and brings them to himself. You hear a low, violent growl resonate in his ribcage as his tongue creeps out to seek yours. His fingers then sink into your hair, leaving you breathless.

Holding you close, he pulls his mouth away just far enough to whisper Inveniam viam. In the blink of wings, you find yourself on the beach.

‘I didn't know Misty Steps also worked on…’

‘Don't change the topic,’ he growls against your ear. Suddenly, you realise the dangerous proximity. The magic of the water has vanished, your body - what you hate most in the world - once again exposed to the moon's glow. You look around, searching hopelessly for your clothes.

'Eyes. On. Me.’ he orders, and for a second you feel yourself shiver as his icy hand grabs your chin and forces you to look at him.

‘Now listen carefully.’

You swallow and nod a shy yes with your head after he let you go.

‘You're seeing yourself as a monster again, is that true?’ he asks, stroking one cheek with the back of his hand. ‘Because of the way you look.’

‘Don't you? Look at me, Astarion. You could have anyone. You have a lot of opportunities.’

He pinches the back of his nose with his fingers and inhales. ‘… And to think it must be a monster to make you see the reality of things! But I suppose there's no other way.’

His lips are on you again, but this time it's different. You see yourself from Astarion's point of view and you feel everything he feels: your soft lips, your skin hot to the touch, your sighs, the accelerated beating of your heart, the intense smell of your blood that, despite being well protected by your veins, only urges him back…

‘Let me show you how it is for me,’ he whispers, as your foreheads touch. ‘Because, darling, I assure you, you are far from reality.’

You feel like you're in a dream, made up of fragments. The moonlight is much brighter to his sight, and the sounds of nature amplified. He pulls you onto the beach, kissing you. You feel his tongue exploring you, the warmth pleasantly welcoming his body.

He inhales your scent and you feel like it smells like flowers, even though you have never sensed anything like it. ‘A rich bouquet, which I never tire of.’

He runs down your neck, kissing it languidly and licking it. ‘I can't get enough of you, and I'm not just talking about your blood.’

His teeth find your nipples; your brain is split between the pleasure you feel yourself, and his one when he sucks and nibbles on the turgid tips. He sinks his face between your soft, generous, warm breasts, and inevitably can't help himself, bringing a hand to his erection. You feel the exquisite liquid warmth work its way into both of your bellies, his breathing shuddering as he squeezes his cock and thrusts his pelvis into his fist. You feel how excited he is to see you at his mercy, lying on the sand, eyes glazed over and heart on the verge of bursting.

The thought makes you suddenly tighten your legs, partly out of shyness, partly to fill the void, seeking a gentle friction. ‘A-astarion, I will hurt you…’

The elf laughs, and pulls you to him with supernatural strength. ‘My dear, I am a vampire. It takes more than that to hurt me,’ he replies with a grin on his face, taking you by the hips until he finds his nose peeping against your clit. He wastes no more time, pushing you down, impaling you with his tongue unceremoniously.

You pant and tremble, feeling your taste on his tongue through the connection, his fervid excitement growing and growing.

He really can't get enough of you, if he could he would become one with you from how insane his desire is. He licks you, tongue-fucking you, until you begin to unleash yourself. You grab his hair and push your pussy against his mouth, riding him.

‘That's it, my dear. Take control, fuck yourself with my tongue,’ you hear in your mind. ‘Be glorious while you do it, give me all of yourself.’

And so you do. You let yourself go, drunk with your own and Astarion's excitement. You see the scene from his eyes: the moist glistening of your clit, swollen and ready to climax, breasts dancing with every movement.

‘Fuck Astarion, I want you,’ you gasp. Reluctantly, you pull away from him for a moment, but only to turn around. You take his long, pale cock in your mouth and he returns to licking you greedily. You take him all the way down your throat, moaning, feeling the salty taste on your tongue and at the same time the sweet taste on you. Only wet sounds and moans can be heard, as you fuck each other. Your heart has never raced so fast, full of a new pride.

Astarion truly sees you as a divinity, the emblem of the very life he so dearly misses.

You are so wet that you feel Astarion swallowing several times, drinking your pleasure like wine, until he gives an arrow-accurate lapping on your pearl, making you see stars. Your mouth is still full of his cock so you can't scream as he continues to tongue fuck you as you come again, again and again.

Then, he grabs you by the hips and slams you down, entering you with disarming ease. You feel your mind fall apart but at the same time you see you beneath him, his hands encircling your red cheeks. ‘You are… so beautiful that you make me feel alive.’

His strokes become more and more imprecise, so wet you can feel that liquid pleasure inside you. ‘Gods, fuck, I'm going to cum. I want to come inside you,' he begs. ‘Pretty please.’

You whisper a ‘yes’, holding him to you as he moans your name. You feel his seed fill you and at the same time you feel his orgasm as if it were your own. You kiss him again, again and again, until your pleasure swarms.

‘Please look at yourself every day in the mirror as if you were doing it with my eyes. And if you can't, I will help you, day after day.’

You smile, as you believe in yourself a little more.

#astarion #astarion bg3 #astarion smut #baldurs gate 3 astarion #astarion ancunin #bg3 #baldur's gate 3 #tw depression #tw body dysmorphia #reriwrites

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burstinn · 1 year ago

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Hello could I request some cod characters (dealer's choice) being protective of their s/o who is being sent threatening messages from an abusive ex?

Horangi x Male/GN Reader

Abusive Ex yoooo! And bbg Horangi

Warnings/notes:

Threatening messages (nothing bad just mild), Ex is girl (because usually the abusive ex is always male from what I read.. So I just thought why not female), Some swearing, Lazy writing, no proofreading.

"I'm going to fucking kill you"

"Please take me back"

"I know where you live, Your new boyfriend isn't even that good"

"I don't understand why you left me.. "

"I don't understand why you decided to change. Is this new relationship only to get back at me"

... On and on and on..

These fucking messages. She got your new number.

No matter how hard you blocked your ex, hell even contacting the police. Of course who are no help, Never taking you seriously.

She just won't stop leaving you alone.

"Sweetheart, what's up? You look.. Well you look like you just got a text from your ex"

Horangi.. Your new boyfriend chuckled as he said that, sitting across from you in the sofa. Setting down his phone to look at you curiously.

You don't answer, shifting your frowning face and looking at Horangi raising an eyebrow.

"Mhm.. What a coincidence"

Oh.. Horangi's joking facade immediately stopped. His smile dropping to a frown, you could already see veins growing in his face.

"I thought you blocked her?"

"I did"

"... She found your number again?"

You nod and before you can even start complaining about her again. Horangi snatches your phone from your hands, scrolling through the recently new messages you just got.

"God.. Fucking-- What is her problem"

You hear Horangi hiss through his teeth. His grip on your phone tightening, threatening to break it if he continues scrolling through the messages

"Hey, Hey it's.. Okay.. Don't break my phone.."

You say worriedly moving over in front of Horangi to grab your phone away from him gently. Which he thankfully does give it back to you

"Sorry.. Sorry it's just-"

Horangi trails off grabbing the back of your head and pushing your head to lay on his chest, pulling you down to the sofa to lay with him. He starts caressing your head as he looks off to the side, His head angrily stewing off probably different ways to ruin your ex.

You sigh wrapping your arms around Horangi's back fixing yourself so you lay now on Horangi's shoulder.

"It's fine, I swear"

"You don't have to keep saying that.."

Horangi cuts you off, wrapping himself around you protectively.

"I'm sorry" he sighs, "I just wanna protect you, You know I would never treat you like that right?"

He says comfortingly, kissing your forehead.

"I know you won't.."

You respond, reciprocating the kiss. On the lips this time.

___________________________________

You would stay like this for a while, you on top of Horangi as he protectively hugs you close to him. It's all very comforting, until you eventually close your eyes.

You're asleep.

Good.

Horangi rubs your head, staring up at the ceiling. When he feels you're breathing slow.

He grabs your phone, typing in your phone password. He knows.. You both trust each other. And that's a good thing.

He's doing this just to protect you

Click through your messages. Click Unknown number, Her. Her and her fucking annoying messages. When was she gonna get a life.

Well that's what Horangi's gonna teach her, sadly he won't kill anyone today. But threatening is hopefully enough to get it through her thick skull. Lest, she wants to see a video of you getting railed by him.

Just to keep you safe. It's all for you. His beautiful, perfect Boyfriend.

#call of duty x male reader #call of duty modern warfare x male reader #gay #cod mw2 x male reader #cod x male reader #cod x reader #cod horangi x male reader #horangi x male reader #cod horangi x gn reader #horangi #horangi x reader

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greenthena · 1 year ago

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Buck up, Hamlet!

***Trigger warning: Death and taking your own life in the context of Shakespeare***

Aziraphale likes Hamlet. Likes the play so much, that he bats his eyelashes at Crowley until the demon performs a miracle to make the mopey Prince of Denmark more popular. Well, good job, the both of you, because four hundred and some odd years later, you still can't get through repertory auditions without some bugger hoisting a skull and starting that monologue. Not that I don't appreciate Hamlet from a structural and analytical perspective. And the Prince of Denmark is a character most actors would sacrifice several toes to play. But it's dark. It's not a fun one.

So why does Aziraphale like it so much? Why's this fluffy little angel so Hell-bent on one of Shakespeare's tragedies? Join me, friendly Good Omens scholars, and let's suss some shit out.

Crowley adamantly dislikes Shakespeare's tragedies. "This isn't one of Shakespeare's gloomy ones, is it? Arghhhh. No wonder no one is here," he complains, wilting like a floppy noodle. Of course, it doesn't take much for Aziraphale to weasel the demon into miracling more people into the audience. But Crowley makes a point to say that he "still prefer(s) the funny ones" as he's leaving The Globe.

Crowley, I would argue, goes to the theatre to escape his real-life situation. He's a bloody demon who, when he's not stationed on Earth, literally goes to Hell. And it's not a nice place. Crowley's everyday life (particularly when he's not around Aziraphale) revolves around pain and suffering--whether its his or someone else's is insignificant. What matters is that regularly sees and experiences tangible, visceral representations of tragedy in his actual existence. Of course he prefers Shakespeare's funny ones! They're a reminder that the world and the human race that he's accidentally become so attached to is full of more than torment and affliction. Crowley doesn't appreciate Shakespeare's tragedies because they're an extension of his own suffering, with which he's already intimately familiar. For Crowley, attending a Shakespearean tragedy is like picking a scab. You already know you've been injured and fussing with the damned thing only makes it worse.

This is not the case for Azirapahle. As an angel, he's not allowed to have any scabs, much less pick at them. Like Crowley, he sees suffering in the world. He knows that humanity is constantly facing difficult odds, and even the most wonderful of human lives eventually ends in death. But unlike Crowley, Aziraphale works within a system in which there is no gray space--and therefore, no room for an angel, an agent of the side of righteousness, to experience doubt in the Ineffable Plan. The Heavenly model is to deal with problems by pretending they don't exist. Heaven has an image to maintain, after all. Like, the sheer amount of repression we see amongst the Heavenly Host is honestly terrifying. I'm thinking about the way in which The Metatron frames the Fall and damnation of a third of the angels. "For one Prince of Heaven to be cast into the outer darkness makes a good story. For it to happen twice, makes it look like there is some kind of institutional problem." It's so cold and removed because to process something so traumatic would not fit the image of Heaven. So it's neatly boxed up and packed away into a soundbite that better fits Heaven's corporate brand.

Aziraphale's suffering is certainly no less than Crowley's. The angel's trauma is repressed. It's cloaked in shining bright hallways of pure angelic light. It's hidden behind false words and tight smiles. It's communicated passive-aggressively by abusers who still have the angel caught in their web of control and manipulation. At least Crowley's trauma is visible. When he fell, the demon took on a new appearance that physically demonstrates his suffering. He has access to feelings of anger and frustration and he's allowed to express these things because he's a demon. He doesn't have to be good.

Since Aziraphale is not permitted to own his emotions and his trauma, he outsources them. He enjoys Shakespeare's tragedies because they give him the opportunity to achieve second-hand catharsis. He may not be able to admit that he's suffering, but he can experience Hamlet's pain vicariously.

***Reminding you of that trigger warning, folks!***

And this is where we get to the question, "To be, or not to be?" This is the moment in S1 E3 when Aziraphale interacts with Richard Burbage, and shouts out, "To be! Not to be! Come on, Hamlet, buck up!" He says this with this coy little smile, obviously trying to get a laugh out of Crowley. But it's indicative of a more serious dilemma that the angel, himself, must parse out. In Shakespeare's play, Hamlet's query is expressed as he wrestles with the choice between life and death. Essentially, it's a contemplation of suicide--a dark part of humanity that Heaven manages by eternally condemning those who would risk it. However there's another way to read this question, not as life and death, but as agency and the lack thereof. We think of "to be" as the choice for life and "not to be" as the option for suicide. But the only way in which Hamlet can express his agency is by taking control of the one thing that truly belongs to him: his own life. So when asking this question of an eternal being, what exactly does it mean, "To be?" What does it mean for Aziraphale to express agency in his immortal existence?

In Western thought, we tend to divide things into binaries: right and wrong, black and white, good and evil...to be or not to be. Back in the Garden if Eden, Crowley first introduced Adam and Eve to the idea that they had a choice. The serpent presented two options, obey or disobey God's authority. Though I think a better way of looking at it would be to say, passively accept your role or have agency in your fate. This is Crowley's method. He never pushes temptations upon you. He just wants to make sure you know all your options.

Like Hamlet, Aziraphale is presented with the choice of, "To be or not to be?" He can sign on the dotted line and follow Heaven's authority or he can be an angel with agency, an angel that goes along with Heaven as far as he can. And though Aziraphale still struggles with how exactly free will pertains to angels, Crowley shows him time and time again that he has options--he can make his own choices. From the very first interaction between the angel and the demon on the wall of Eden, Crowley (ever the optimist) knows there is hope for some meaningful connection with Aziraphale, because the angel makes a choice for himself: he gives away his sword. And from that moment, Crowley realizes that this angel might be just enough of a bastard to be worth knowing.

It's no wonder Aziraphale gets attached to the tragedy of Hamlet. It allows him to observe and process the darker and more difficult emotions that he, as an angel, struggles to manage. And perhaps more importantly, the Prince of Denmark's famous soliloquy mirrors of Crowley's method of temptation, wherein the demon simply reminds him that he has a choice and that, even as an angel, he can find ways to express his agency.

#good omens #aziraphale #aziracrow #crowley #hamlet #shakespeare #free will #our side #ineffable #just enough of a bastard to be worth knowing

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