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allurilove · 2 months ago

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Calm Yandere x you

“Your expressionless boyfriend.”

Rated 18 + — mature short content!

Includes: calm yandere x talkative gender neutral reader, mutual pining?, strangers to friends to lovers, cute fluff in the beginning… other stuff later on. wink wink. ♡

Calm yandere was known to be a little cold. His default face is an unamused one, the ends of his lips always downward, and it certainly scared you away from him when you first saw him. He didn’t like to socialize as much as you did, and when you talked to him, he only seemed to nod. “Mhm,” and “uh-huh,” was all you could get from him. He didn’t hate nor dislike you— you’re an absolute perfect specimen, and a normal, and adaptable human being. You were everything he wanted to be. You were everything he wanted, period. He started to form a crush on you, and it was a minuscule one at first. He appreciated how you were able to carry a conversation, how bright and confident you looked compared to him, and you were this bright light in his grim dark reality.

Calm yandere was surprised when you made the first move. You wanted to be friends, and being just friends with you felt like torture. Although, he agreed—not wanting to miss the opportunity to be by your side even more. He followed you around, agreed to show up to all hangouts you planned, and he even invited you to his house. His house was surprisingly warm. He had soft white curtains, light pink decorations here and there, and it smelled like freshly baked cookies. Warm and sweet was what you would describe him now that you got to know him. He was the perfect host. He was showing you around the backyard, and he pointed out a couple of butterflies that liked to come by. His voice was flat and monotonous when he explained his favorite butterflies to you, but you could see a slight glimmer of happiness in his eyes. And most importantly, he showed you his bedroom. He had manga books on his shelves, Smiski figurines, and one of the compartments was just filled with snacks. He had an old dog named “Mini” that was sleeping on his huge bed, loudly snoring, and kicking her feet as she dreamt of running around.

Calm yandere had asked you to be his partner months later. You were shocked when he confessed his feelings for you, and here calm yandere was, thinking that he had done a good job of hinting at it. You did notice the glances he would send your way, and how they would linger a bit longer than before. You then started to think back to the times he would do things for you. He would bend down and tie your shoelaces. He gave you his jacket when it was raining, and he would walk home soaking wet. He carried you on his back when you tripped and hurt your ankle. He let you into his house when you fought with your parents, and tried his damn hardest to crack a worried expression on his stone-like face. It wasn’t like you weren’t into him, you tried to give him signals too.

Calm yandere was oblivious, just as you were oblivious. You had literally invited him to every place you could think of. You made pottery with him, and even put your hands on his to help him shape his clay into a vase. That was a very intimate act. An act that made you flustered and blushing when you had pressed your body behind his. Him, on the other hand, didn’t even blink at the action. When you had told him that you found him cute and adorable, he just said “okay.” OKAY?? Clearly that meant he didn’t like you back, and you quickly put on a strained smile and went on with your day.

Calm yandere was an active listener, not really a replier, but a listener. He might look like he was disinterested, but any subject you brought up was the most interesting, and fascinating, topic of all time. You would talk his ear off, and you liked to speak your mind. “So, as I was saying…” you continued. He nodded along, his cheek resting on his hand, and he leaned even closer to play with the strands of your hair. He liked feeling and touching you. It reminded him that you were real, that you were in front of him, and you were officially his. Your lips were perfect, always moving and speaking, and it would form the world’s most beautiful smile. He could tell that some days you didn’t want to hear any solutions from him, and only wanted to have someone to talk too. So, he does exactly what you want.

Calm yandere was happy to advance the relationship even further! He would show finally show some PDA. An arm would casually be slung around your shoulders while you two walked. Whenever you sat next to him, and he didn’t like the distance between you two, he would grab onto the leg of the chair and pulled it in closer. He then would kiss your cheek, and as fast as it came, he had pulled back before you could reciprocate. He knew that being a boyfriend meant that he had to do some certain things… He was feeling bold when he saw you wearing shorts, and without really thinking, his hand reached out to touch at your thighs.

Calm yandere was taken aback by the overwhelming positive reaction. He didn’t imagine that a single brush from his finger tips would cause your brain to go haywire. You had pushed him onto the couch, and he fell back with a little grunt. He saw that you had climbed onto his lap, straddling his hips, and had placed his hand on a sensitive spot of your body. He felt up the flesh, and his fingers slipped underneath your shorts. He kept a watchful eye on your facial expressions, and he hummed in delight when you spread your thighs even further for him. He rubbed his fingers up and down the length of your privates, and he started to collect some of the wet substance that had leaked out. He heard you breathe out his name, and when your voice soon became whiny and you had pleaded for more, he knew you had to be close.

Calm yandere had you on your back. He pulled your shorts down your legs, flinging them to the side after he revealed your lower half to him. He leaned down to greet your sex with his tongue. You were loud and talkative in bed, just as you were out of it. Your back arched, and your hands painfully gripped at his hair. Your body started to tremble, almost trying to squirm its way out from underneath him. His hands had to keep your legs from closing on him, “don’t try to keep me away from you.” your boyfriend said firmly. He then gestured to the growing tent in his pants, “this is all your fault. I’ll make you feel good if you can do the same for me.”

Calm yandere liked to lick his fingers in front of you. His tongue swiping at the salty cum before he fully puts his digits inside his mouth. He could feel the wrinkles and ridges of his pruned fingers, and he gleefully sucked off the excess cum and saliva that had gathered on there. You were lying on the couch with a bit of a daze, your chest rising and falling, and you could still feel his eyes wandering on the work he had done. You had love bites on your neck, trailing down to your inner thighs, and lower towards your ankles. He had bit you down there to keep his voice down while he had himself buried deep inside of you. What could he say? You knew how to press his buttons and drive him wild.

Allure: this is calm yandere after you had called him cute.

Allure: A little update: I’ll work on the master list soon after this, and I’ll have to update a couple of lists such as the yandere kink ones… so that should be done next!

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endursent · 22 days ago

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- Through the Dark

【 content; sunday x reader , astral express sunday , dry humping , a bit of pining , tight spaces , NSFW 】

【 note; i've never written smut/nsfw before, so this is treading new grounds for me, but I need to practice for gss because i want that to be juicy. expect more, lol. it'd also be nice to get requests/suggestions to stir by brain a bit if you'd like.

also, the reader's gender is never mentioned but there are gender-neutral they/them pronouns used twice in the middle to enforce that ambiguity. 】

【 word count; 3.391 | read on ao3 】

��Stop… moving so much,” Sunday strains through grit teeth, he’s trying not to sound annoyed or upset, but it’s an uphill battle.

“You’re moving first, I’m just adjusting,” you whisper back, you can’t tell what expression he’s making in the darkness, but you’re sure it’s on some scale of annoyance or frustration by the sound of his voice.

“You–”

You hear footsteps approaching and slap your right hand over his mouth, your heart beats faster as they approach, quick taps against hardwood floors… you feel Sunday still completely, his jaw moves slightly beneath your palm as he swallows thickly. Neither of you move an inch until distant shouts sound and the footsteps fade. You still keep your hand over his mouth for a moment longer just in case. You can’t see out of the closet you’ve squeezed into… what if there’s someone listening on the other side? Just waiting for either of you to make a noise?

Your heart continues to beat rapidly in your chest, you feel it hammering against your rib cage–and you’re sure Sunday feels it too.

After a while, you take a gamble and lower your hand from his face, surely they’re gone now?

“...” Sunday doesn’t say anything, a tense silence falling between you. His voice is a whisper when he finally does speak. “... is this a usual occurrence?”

You have to take a moment to try and understand what he means. “Ha? Being stuck in a closet?”

“Yes,” he just grumbles, disapproval clear in his tone.

“... no,” you mumble in return. The how and why of the situation was irrelevant—mostly because it’s your fault and you don’t want to think about it—what was much more important is that you are stuffed into a closet with Sunday with barely any wiggle room and you’re not keen on facing a horde of angry guards who could potentially be hostile with only you and Sunday to fend them off.

Your limbs barely have any space, Sunday’s arms are above the both of you, his elbows on either side of your head as the space is so narrow he can’t even lower them—there’s no direction wide enough for his arm to bend. Your chests are pressed together so tightly that the ornament on his scarf has nearly poked you in the eye three times and you felt the tickle of his feathered wings against your cheekbone when you turned your head to the door.

The rest… is the uncomfortable part—not that being pressed like sardines in a can isn’t uncomfortable in general. Sunday is slightly taller than you and has to spread his legs on either side of you so that he can fit—the closet isn’t exactly tall either, so the two of you are slightly hunched as well, thus you have to tuck your legs under him so that he’s practically sitting on them, your knees press against the wall achingly and one of your thighs is pressing very insistently and directly between his legs.

The strain in his voice is probably only half due to the uncomfortable, hunched position, and half because with every slight move you make, you’re essentially grinding your thigh against his crotch. It’s hard not to notice the situation, but for his–and your own–sake you pretend not to.

Unbeknownst to you, Sunday is fighting for his life. He hasn’t been touched by another… ever? Not like this, even if accidental. He feels the tips of his fingers prickle and his jaw clench unconsciously as he tries his best not to react outwardly.

“Okay… they should be gone now,” thankfully your hands were bent downwards, and thus you could push against the closet door with your elbow.

But it doesn’t budge.

You press again, nothing. It’s locked, or blocked by something. No matter how you try and push, the door doesn’t budge.

“What is it?” Sunday frowns, he can’t see what you’re doing and the closet doesn’t have any holes or window on the door to allow light in. “Open it, just…”

“It’s locked,” you interrupt him.

He says nothing… and you can almost sense the mixture of frustration and disappointment in him, but a soft, warm exhale fans over your face, it almost tickles. “Try again,” he urges surprisingly softly. “Perhaps it’s just stiff.”

You do as he asks, but no luck. “… it doesn’t open.”

Sunday clicks his tongue. “Alright—stop pushing, be still,” he nudges your head with his elbow. With every press against the door, your body pushes away from it—and your thigh flexes, pressing against him further.

There’s another beat of silence, but you can’t stand it—thankfully, an idea flashes in your mind and you decide to give him a heads up… this will require some wriggling. “Sunday, my phone is in my pocket, if I can get it and send a message to the Express group chat, someone must be able to come and pry the door open.” Never have you imagined a more useful task for Dan Heng’s spear.

“Can you reach it?” he asks as you shift your arm from being stuck between your stomachs and squeeze it between your bodies. His eyes squint at the feeling.

You bite your lip in concentration. “Probably… but I’ll need to try and stretch my thighs and waist to fish it out…”

“I see…” he understands what that entails, but he’s not sure he likes the idea. “Can you reach my phone instead? It’s in my coat pocket.”

You pat around his side and try to find it, it could be easier… but to reach down you have to try and bend forwards—which means pressing your forehead and face directly into his chest. The scarf wrapped around his collar is soft… and it smells nice, like cinnamon. Though his chest itself isn’t very soft, he’s rather skinny.

But no matter how you reached and even tried to tug his coat up, the pocket was too far down and his phone even deeper inside. There’s no other way.

“I’m sorry,” you truly are, you don’t want to make him uncomfortable. “Maybe if we just wait…”

“No,” he shakes his head and you feel his hair brush against your nose. “Just do it.”

Deciding to try and just get it over with, you nod and start shimmying your back and ass upwards as much as you can to try and create space for you to be able to tug your phone out of your pocket. And it has the exact effect expected.

Sunday grunts, he tries to bite back any noise and his thighs twitch before he presses them against your hips tightly, as if trying to close his legs… it’s torturous, your thigh drags up and shifts and moves against him as you fish for your phone, he can’t even reach down to still your leg or tug at himself—anything, his arms are at too much of an awkward angle to be able to bend down in the tight space, so he’s stuck just enduring the searing heat that’s pooling dangerously easily between his legs.

Finally, you get a proper hold of it and drag your phone out of your pants pocket, you settle back down which elicits a sound from him that shoots through both of you like an arrow. “Sorry!” you quickly try and apologise, but the soft twitching of his body signals that the apology will do precious little.

Sunday swallows thickly, so much so that you could hear it. His body was warm before, but now it feels like he’s radiating heat against you. He doesn’t want to say anything, worried his voice might not sound right—but the position you realigned into is pressing him almost painfully flat against himself… which also means he feels every small drag or shift you make.

You try to tilt your shoulders in a way that lets you see your phone screen… if you can just text the Express group chat that you’re stuck, surely someone can put off what they’re doing and come let you out.

It’s tricky to turn the phone in your hand with only one to spare and try to unlock it without seeing the screen, where even is the messaging app again? You just try your best to guess… until you try and type, which is when your phone tilts from your fingers and clatters to the ground.

“…”

Fuck.

An exhale leaves Sunday. “You dropped your phone.”

“… yeah,” you sound like a puppy being scolded by its owner. With your phone facing up on the floor, he could just barely see you giving him guilty dog side-eyes.

He couldn’t explain the frustration it brought him that now no one knew of your positions—you had managed to send a … half-message… but it probably didn’t mean much to anyone.

—

[17:42] You: slfep dmgwlsGn f

[17:43] March 7th ᕦ(ò_óˇ)ᕤ: Huh?

[17:46] Himeko: Probably put their phone unlocked in their pocket again...

[17:49] March 7th ᕦ(ò_óˇ)ᕤ: lol

—

The light from your phone turned off as it was left untouched for too long, and you groaned slightly. Great… now what? Surely you’re not going to be stuck here forever.

He wasn’t going to be able to keep his composure much longer, especially not when your damned body is pressed against his like this, the smell of your clothes and the occasional brush of your hands when you move them in the little space they can be moved.

It certainly doesn’t help that he finds you irresistible.

How could he, after his world had been turned—his beliefs, his ideals and his goals all turned from reaching forward, to halting in front of a mirror, forced to confront his reflection and pick out the flaws in his own mind before himself.

And you treated him just as you would any other person, despite what he had done, despite his false sense of benevolence that he still worked to understand how to redirect to something more realistic, how to understand what it is that drives...

His thoughts are interrupted—unfortunately, because it was distracting enough—when you pat his coat again to try and find his phone, but his skin begins to tingle every time you touch him, his poor body highly sensitive from the growing tension in his pants. “S-stop, be still—please,” he breathes, his voice suddenly far closer to your ear than it was before, his soft hair tickling your cheek.

Oh, that was…

You’ve never heard his voice sound like that—not that you’ve known him for long enough to hear many of the pitches of his voice could make, but the way it rose slightly and cut off before pleading with you…

Why do you want to hear it again? “Sorry,” you say again, losing count of how many times you’ve said it already. “Are you okay?”

He wouldn’t admit to his predicament with a gun to his head, but… it’s impossible to ignore, and there’s no way you don’t know either. He takes a deep—shaky—breath. “You can’t… move your leg?”

You don’t want to lie to him and say yes, your knee is aching from being pressed so firmly against the wall of the closet, and your tailbone isn’t faring better against the other wall. You can pretty much only move it side to side unless you try and straighten your knee out—which as he felt earlier, was far worse. “Not really.”

He swallows again, Sunday is glad he’s wearing gloves and that the closet is dark, or else you would have felt his sweaty hands or seen it on his brow by now. “I see.”

He can’t stay like this much longer, his heart thunders against his chest, he hears it clearly as his breath hitches when he tries to provide himself some relief by shifting his hips to one side—but only proceeds to drag against you again, causing maddening friction that makes his thighs flex.

The tension in the air is so thick you’re not sure if it’s just the fact the closet doesn’t exactly have a vent, or that your nose is a hair’s width from Sunday’s neck, but it’s making your head feel lighter and your breaths deepen the more he tries to find more comfortable positions and fail, letting out short breaths or grunts. At this point he might as well just find the relief he’s desperately holding back from chasing. It would be less painful.

“Sunday,” his name falls from your lips quieter than you meant to, and surprisingly, your own name leaves him equally shyly. A simple breath that made your spine straighten instinctively—causing you to poke yourself in the eye on the ornament on his scarf. “Ow—“

“Stop moving,” his tone sharpens and you feel a palm on your head. “… nhh—“ Sunday’s body twitches, you feel a throb against your thigh and he fears he’s going to burst if this continues. “…”

But he can’t in his right mind just ask you if he can use your thigh to satisfy this torturous ache.

Thankfully, your mind is usually not ‘right’. “Hey,” you muster up some courage, it helps that neither of you can’t see anything. “If you need to…”

“No,” he interrupts you, shaking his head—and a wing slaps you in the face, you feel like your face is taking too many swings today. “No, absolutely not.”

“You sound like you’re about to cry.” His voice is tight, but not because he’s about to cry—he might, if this keeps going for too long—but because he’s reigning in every single willpower he has to hold himself still. “Will it be better if I do it?”

He clicks his tongue, this entire situation could have been avoided if someone didn’t trigger the alarm. He could’ve gone about his day and not had to—yet again—confront a side of himself left neglected. “No… fine, let me.”

It was… tentative, shy, as if he thought that short and subtle movements would mean you wouldn’t feel anything or not notice too much. Every shot of warmth from his waist to his fingers and toes made him shudder and his chest tighten, it was a fight on all fronts to both keep quiet and focus on being careful at the same time.

It was hard to watch, or rather listen to, as the dark was still all-encompassing.

Maybe he would feel better if he didn’t have to think about the uncomfortable silence in the darkness.

You can’t reach up, your hands stuck below your chests, otherwise you would have touched his face first. He likely wouldn’t have been as startled as he was when your lips suddenly—yet gently—pressed against his.

“Wh—mm you—doin—m—“ it’s almost comedic how his question is only half communicated, surprised and confused by the kiss that he slowly eases into, accepting your offer and splitting his attention.

His hips grind against your thigh, slow at first and uncertain, but as your mouth takes half his mind off of it, he begins to move more desperately. He’s been held at a precipice for so many minutes, an agonising hour that felt so long that he thought he would surely explode in some form if it were to continue for much longer. Sunday’s lips are surprisingly soft against yours, warm and inviting as he pushes back, his hand above your head that laid on it is now searching for purchase, as if he wants to take hold of you properly.

The two of you pull back to breathe, and Sunday wastes no time to duck his head next to yours, damp lips brushing past your temple and to your ear. He plants wet, open mouthed kisses below it, the sensitive skin tickled by the sensation as his tongue drags against the shell of your ear.

But he doesn’t give up, taken by the heated moment and relaxed barriers, his hips continue to cant against your thigh, his worldview narrowing to the sensation of your warm skin under his lips, to the delicious friction created by both your pants. “Hahh…“ he breathes out, a string of saliva separating his lips from your skin.

You move your leg in tandem to his grinding, you can’t help but feel his pleasure as if it were your own, the way his body trembles with strain, the breathy sounds below your chin and flex of his hips. You feel your own body respond and warmth pool needily, but you ignore it—he’s the one that’s been suffering for an hour in this stuffy space, you can wait… you try to convince yourself at least, ignoring the subtle throb of your own, at least it was just against air and not pressed against something as well—or perhaps that’s worse.

It’s embarrassing, Sunday echoes in the back of his mind, not only that he’s had to resort to this, but also the fact that he wants more. He doesn’t just want to rut against your thigh like this, he wants to touch you with his hands, trapped at an awkward angle over your shoulders. He wants to feel your own heat, the warmth radiating from your clothes against his a tempting tease, a longing of seeing what’s beneath. Your skin, your hair, your eyes, your neck, your lips—he wants to feel all of it.

Sunday mumbles your name again before his lips find your ear and the top of your throat once more, a hint of teeth as he captures your earlobe between them, a shiver running through you, you can hear his mouth and tongue so clearly... he kisses a reddened spot left below your ear from his single minded focus and his hips falter and his body twitches together, but he only succeeds in brushing his bangs against your chin and his small wings fluttering outward. The surge of heat emitting from his straining cock was unbearable, he moved faster, a breathy sound of your name on his lips again, Sunday says it for the third time as tension fills his body and all he can focus on is the warmth of your frame against his—a bit too tightly in the cramped closet—the soft warm breaths against his ear and the way your hands unconsciously started grabbing at his coat.

You feel him tense and groan, the choked sound foreign on his lips, you never expected to hear such a bodily sound from him, nor could you stop it from raising every hair on your arms. You hold onto him as he practically falls against you, Sunday’s breaths are heavy and his arms tremble by your head, his mind feels like it’s been tossed around a bit before stuffed back in upside down, he can’t straighten up or lie down and has to practically sit on your thigh.

“Are you okay?” you prod and poke at his stomach worriedly. “Was that okay? Are—“

“Please… j-just… one moment,” he pleads, not ready to answer a barrage of questions just yet. His heart is beating so fast it almost worries him, his throat feels dry and his legs are weak. He did nothing but drag his crotch up and down your thigh and this is the state he’s left in? He can’t imagine how you would leave him if he got a real taste—

He shakes his head and you splutter as you get a mouthful of feathers. “I… might have dirtied your pants,” he says shamefully, the sticky wetness between his legs left behind from the height of pleasure was surely going to stain you too. Though it felt good, certainly, he is having some post-clarity… for you to see him so tense and desperate as this—he always has a careful front, not more so than before, but the habit remains.

“I have more,” you try to assure him… you don’t have them with you, but you do own more. “So…”

He presses his forehead against your shoulder. “… I don’t want to talk about it now.”

A small smile cracks your lips and you stroke his side. “Okay, we‘ll talk later… how about a second grab for your phone? Now that you’re all, eh… spent?”

“… don’t send anything until we’re dry.”

#sunday x reader #sunday x you #sunday #sunday hsr #honkai star rail #my writing #fics #hsr x reader #honkai star rail x reader #big time content #yes thats what i usually use for my ns4w tagging

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sl4sh3rsub · 1 year ago

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rz michael myers hcs (nsfw: mdni)

rz michael myers x reader (AFAB, AMAB, FtM, MtF)

warning: a lot here. mikey has a monster cock, insecure + inexperienced michael, he doesn't talk but makes noise + mouths words + grunts syllables sometimes (selectively mute ig?), oral sex (both giving and receiving), excessive creampies, fingering (receiving), no lube we die like men his dick n spit does it for him, masturbation, rimming (both giving and receiving), knife kink, excessive mentions of precum + spit + cum, creative use of cum/arousal fluids in arts projects, musk kink, choking (receiving), mentions of sex toys, thigh humping, mention of canon SA and violence (nothing w/ or directly involving reader), p in v + anal (all unprotected - pls stay safe irl), cum eating, slight somnophilia, bruises and hickeys, cockwarming, slight worship (receiving), dry humping, handjobs, 2 mentions of him having a mini shrine to you, mentions of needle hrt in ftm + mtf bits (feel free to ignore), mentions of the institute/asylum

a/n: sorta edited. tried not to be too ooc, but it's more focused on a softer side of michael - personally i think his character is very different to og/peepaw myers! rz mikey is more based in instinct rather than previous experiences/societal expectations, so there's more general hcs than separate sections this time. NOTE: feel free to read any sections, tried my best to not use gendered terms in agab sections but lmk how i can improve :3

order: general hcs first then amab + afab then ftm + mtf, different sections = different content n tried not to repeat much

_ _ _ _ _

general hcs

as michael is very inexperienced with kissing, he'll smash his lips against yours and become a huffing mess after he gets worked up from your breath mingling with his and your darkening gazes meeting

if you play with his hair and gaze into his eyes, he can't help it if he gets half-hard - his body will always needily react to your attention and affection

he's most at home in grey sweatpants - he's very used to wearing them while making his masks and associates them with comfort and the years of creatively honing his craft

so naturally, don't be surprised when his already impressive girth pulses and thickens at the sight of you bending over or reaching something off a high shelf

mikey will absolutely make you your own special mask!! although, the glue he uses for your personal paper mâché mix is a bit more,, personal. he'll also use your arousal to paint the inner layer of his favourite mask :( he simply needs to have some semblance of you with him at all times, especially whenever he's out on the town and away from your embrace

he's borderline hypersexual and gets half-hard and extremely sensitive without reason, however he doesn't always feel the need to act on his urges with you. expect him hiding his arousal during mundane activities, getting flushed and shy when he realises that you notice :<

if he's comfortable on the couch, he'll make himself at home with a horrendous manspread. naturally, this leads to him getting flustered whenever you kneel in between his legs with a mischievous glint in your eye. if you ask him sweetly, he'll be more than happy to sit you in between his strong thighs and let you hump into his hand while you both watch a movie

if he's not feeling like he wants to be inside you, he'll lie on his back with his knees up, pulling you to straddle his waist and lean back against his thighs. from this angle, he's able to watch you play with yourself and masturbate above him while feeling your weight grounding him, just out of reach but almost close enough to taste

he loves taking you from behind and kissing the base of your neck, your breathless giggles echoing in his ears as his long hair tickles your shoulders and back

michael loves having you cockwarm him while he makes his masks!! he adores it when you doze off with your cheek smushed into his shoulder during a late night arts-and-crafts session, the slow pulse of his heartbeat deep inside you

he's so, so incredibly thankful for you, that he's able to unleash his frustrations into you, whether it be about a ripped mask or just about pentup emotions. he's eternally thankful for your love and under the table support

you are mikey's angel, his true saving grace. after his long bout at the institute, he was fully convinced that being loved by anyone was impossible for him. your welcoming arms and gentle praise proved him wrong and completely changed his image of heaven - to michael, it's no longer a cloudy sky mentioned in those old books, it's your warm embrace and loving gaze. it just took him a little while to realise that he was in his own little paradise with you

he tries his hardest to treat you with absolute reverence and adoration T-T he's devoted to making you feel good with him, no matter what. usually, this means holding back from skullfucking you at a brutal pace whenever you give him head. your throat is just so tight around him :( it's got him steadying himself against a wall with his hand, shaking and sweating from holding back, with his gorgeous, garbled moans encouraging you to swallow the saltiness of his length

mikey's wandering hands always end up on your ass or tummy whenever you cuddle together, it's just comforting for him

he's one of the strongest, largest men to ever walk the earth, but the way he gently traces your facial features makes you forget that completely. michael handles you like you're made of porcelain, only using soft pressure unless you assure him he won't break you easily

he has a big, strong and beefy body. lord knows how he maintained it in the institute but with you, he's gonna try his damnedest to put all of his strength to good use - whether it be getting you off while fingering you, his toned forearms barely breaking a sweat or his tree trunk thighs tensing while you ride them

mikey is not trimmed or well-groomed downstairs, his pubes are a wild and unkempt cloud of blonde and light grey hair, so you know he's not caring about how you look at all. you're a fuckin deity in his eyes and he'll dispose of anyone who makes you feel anything other than heavenly

michael is uncut, big and thick, with a large vein running up the underside - so heavy and large that it can't even stand up against his belly, instead slightly bobbing with his pulse and hanging low. it's the type you see in lewd magazines, where it tilts down even when fully hard

when you're on your knees for him, expect his weepy cockhead to drip onto your face while you kiss and nip at his heavy, full balls

oh yeah, this man has the definition of breeder balls; hanging low, swollen and filled to the brim with his potent cum. he truly has so much to give, so you'd better be ready for multiple loads throughout the night

in contrast to michael's hard cock, his nipples are soft and incredibly sensitive. if he's trying to cum as fast as possible, he'll sneak a hand up his shirt and pinch at them relentlessly - make sure they're puffy and spit-glazed after you've been ontop, he goes absolutely feral would really appreciate it

mikey has massive hands too - his fingers are enough to fill you considerably, but he often resorts to stuffing your mouth with them or using his palm to muffle your noises if you're being vocal. he definitely doesn't want the cops called on you just because he's great at pleasuring you

his cock feels heavy inside you, almost like he's deep in your chest whenever he bottoms out. the weight is absolutely dizzying as it stretches you out each thrust and rubs all of the right places. he easily gets drunk on the feeling of you clenching around him, leading to his head being tossed back with drool dribbling down his chin at the sensation

he has the biggest size kink possible but he really doesn't want to get carried away when exerting his strength and size on you - he doesn't want to get carried away or hurt you too badly :(

michael uses whatever knife he can get his hands on during foreplay to add a bit of risk and edge. cutting off your underwear and shirt, tracing down thighs and hips and gently nicking your skin every once in a while, but he quickly tosses it if you beg him to fuck you desperately enough - he doesn't wanna hurt you that bad, not before he's even gotten started

mikey is incredibly insecure about himself and his own worth as a person. he fears your love is only temporary and that you'll move on, leaving him behind as a memory or an adrenaline rush of foolish regret :( for that reason, he's terrified to go too hard or hurt you badly - he's convinced you'll be in pain and be fearful of him if he fucks up. be sure to reassure him when you're together after you have a rougher time and he's manhandling you more <3

initially when he learnt about dry humping, he was confused as to why he craved the friction so desperately but he's learnt to give in - michael will almost immediately cum in his pants if you quietly reassure him you'll clean up the mess you're both bound to leave on his clothes. half the fun (in his eyes, at least) is seeing you get flustered over the sheer amount of his load that's seeping into his boxers from just that little bit of friction

his favourite place to have you is on his lap - cockwarming, cuddling or napping, he does not care. he needs to have your face pressed into his neck with his larger frame providing you with warmth and stability

will rarely fist his cock but if you ever catch him, you might be able to make out his lips repeating the shape of your name over and over

for a long while at the start of your.. arrangement, he had no idea how to initiate sex. he'd just hover close to you, desperately hoping you'd notice the heat radiating from his massive, obvious bulge. would start to bite the inside of his cheek and guide your body towards him in a desperate hint if you didn't clock it immediately

he also did not know shit about the human anatomy, so he'll need you to guide him to where you want to be touched and with a bit of coaching, he'll learn the correct pressure and pace to get you off easily

if you tease him while he's in his overalls, the sight of his lower region slowly darkening with his endless pre and the sound of his haggard breathing devolving into animalistic grunts is nearly enough to make your knees give out

michael isn't a massive fan of fucking you on your bed, especially if your room is in a similar layout to his back at the institute. haunting memories brought on by the guards cast negative clouds across his mind and that is the last thing he wants with you. he'd much prefer to go at it against a wall, the couch or even the floor. most of the time, around his desk is where the action happens and your bed is solely reserved for sleep <3

he loves smearing his precum all over your face, loves letting his musk seep into your skin while your eyes glaze over with lust

he cups your chin, cheek and jaw whenever you have his full attention and his heart melts when you nuzzle into him - his thumb plays with your bottom lip and if you decide to suck on it to keep your mouth occupied, so expect to have mikey silently begging you to cockwarm him while his brain goes fuzzy

while you relax for the evening, watching a movie together, expect him to position you with your head on his thigh (your face way to close to his crotch ofc)

michael loves you sucking on his soft cock and warming him with your mouth, he adores the slow feeling of him growing hard as you moan and gag around his length

when you introduce him to the concept of the sixty-nine position, he absolutely short-circuits. what do you mean you can both suffocate in each other's musk while getting each other off?? what do you mean he can prop himself up above you so he can spend time teasing you while forcing you to choke on his length???

michael always cums a bit too quickly and a bit too much - the moment he enters you for the first time, he can't help but fill you up immediately (good thing he's blessed with inhuman stamina)

he's also the biggest fan of you offering to clean up the mess of his cum dripping down his shaft - if your ass is a bit tender and sore from his rough pace, he's more than happy to soften in your mouth while the two of you catch your breath and wind down

mikey isn't very confident with toys and would much rather pleasure you by himself, but he wouldn't mind learning slowly what you prefer over time

he's also not a fan of lube - it feels too cold on his skin and the slippery nature of it scares him a little, so the best way to get him all coated in pre (for your comfort ofc) is to rim him. his tip drools and spits out so much of his arousal whenever you fuck him with your tongue, rest assured it'll bubble down his shaft and drip onto your chest. the delicious flush of his neck and upper chest is a glorious sight to behold

he first feels the urge to make love to you slowly after he sees a steamy, romantic sex scene with a married couple on television - he wants to give you the warmth and care the actors portray on screen

when you first offered to give him head, he tentatively slapped his cock against your tongue to test waters and see if you liked the taste but ended up addicted to the feeling. he'll smack it against your lips and tongue every time you're on your knees for him

his heavy balls slapping against your chin while he floods your mouth with salty, thick warmth is one of his favourite sounds

he starts breathily whimpering in his gravelly voice whenever he fully bottoms out in your heat, one of the rare moments when he totally loses control over his lust for you

he grunts out the syllables of your name when he's about to cum, digging his fingers into your hips and nipping your neck, leaving deep marks on your skin

mikey gets the same rush whenever you both cum together as to when he stabs someone and kills them after a long game of cat and mouse - there's a reason why the french call it 'petit mortis', a little death

the first time the two of you had sex, it brought out such intense emotions from michael that he was left shaken, crying from confusion about the onslaught of feelings he just shared with you. he is originally torn between holding you close and never letting you go as well as instantly leaving and isolating himself in his own space - like he's used to. he needs time to fully mull over the situation and new sensations he experienced but he would really like to have you nearby incase he needs a hug :(

on a long day, after you've given him head, he'll softly catch his breath while watching you blissfully hum and rest your cheek against his thigh. he huffs a small chuckle as you press light kisses into his softening cock

myers really doesn't want to hurt your ass or bruise your upper thighs too much as he needs to have you perched on his lap whenever he can, but you can expect tender skin from his hips slapping into you as well as bruises from his grip on your waist and hips

if he was too rough with you the night before (maybe accidentally leaving bone-deep bruises or purple marks and scratches along your body), he'll disappear early next morning and return during breakfast with a fistful of fresh tulips as an apology, with their stems partially crushed. just be sure to rinse off the dirt still attached to the roots, it's the thought that counts :<

michael may be inexperienced and bashful but he'll try anything once if it gets you off and brings you pleasure

michael loves to place his hand around your throat, just as a reminder of his sheer strength and power over you. with the slightest amount of pressure, he could make your brain go dumb and your tongue loll out

he chokes you until your eyes become unfocused, your little gasps and whines becoming softer and softer. the proud glint in michael's eyes is deserved, as you fully trusted him with your life while you were in your most vulnerable position. he holds you close while you unsteadily catch your breath, mumbling about how good you are to him and stroking your hair all the while

if you're too shy to look up at him while he fucks you or gives you head, he'll tilt your chin up and groan when your cheeks flush at his blown out pupils

he's the type to not pull out after, needing to soften and catch his breath while still feeling connected, inadvertently overstimulating you without fail as his whole body is racked with aftershocks

if he's feeling mean, michael will make you hump his thigh while he palms at his dick during one of his arts and crafts sessions

he wipes the last dribbles of his cum on your inner thighs after he pulls out. he'll clean it either way - with a damp towel or his tongue, it's up to you <3

occasionally after a spree, he'll need to let his mind rest and will use you as his cute little fleshlight, burying himself deep inside you while guiding your hips along with his rhythm at a bruising pace. if you pay close attention, you'll see his lips forming silent prayers and whispers of apology whenever you yelp from the pace

his post-kill musk is potent enough to make your head spin. if you rest your cheek against his pectoral, you'll be able to feel his heartbeat start to slow against you :<

his guilty pleasure is pulling out while cumming thick spurts, slapping his tip across your skin while smearing his load all over you, be it your lips and cheeks or ass and thighs

michael doesn't want to disturb your sleep if he's needy, so he'll slip your hand in between his boxers and pajama pants to feel your smaller hand against his throbbing bulge. he's content to doze like that but expect to feel him humping into your fist while he sleeps. you may wake to the sound of sheets rustling as he licks up the mess he made, much too tired to change sheets but not wanting it to dry and soil your sheets

he insists on placing his hand firmly on the back of your neck whenever he takes you from behind - to stop you from fucking yourself back on his cock and squirming at his pace

after sex with mikey, it's a common occurrence for you both to be a panting mess on the floor when he's done, your throat sore from mindless babbling and loud moans - all complete with a wet, drool-covered spot on your shirt from his grunts through gritted, gnashed teeth. when he's floated back into the right headspace, he's absolutely mortified by his behaviour and is tentative to even glance at you in a less than innocent way for the next couple hours

if your soft body goes limp in his arms after a mind-blowing orgasm, he gets scared at first and stops his thrusts. he's worrying he hurt you but, once he realises you're alright, he'll support your head and neck and go completely feral, thrusting and grinding until he reaches his high as well

whenever you fall asleep ontop of him, he needs to have your face tucked into the crook of his neck - the scent of your hair and sex in the air lulls him to sleep quicker than any sedative could

he adores your attention while you both bask in your respective afterglows - your hands gently cradling his face while he tucks himself away is one of his favourite, most soothing actions of yours. he'll always rub circles into your skin in return

_ _ _ _ _

amab hcs

michael is inexperienced and completely driven by instinct when it comes to giving head - he wouldn't be deep-throating, instead focusing on your tip and licking along your veins. he's a master of giving handjobs, with the amount of spit he shamelessly coats you with (not to mention his rougher hands)

if he's particularly needy, he'll come up behind you and gently undo your belt while tracing his fingers over your zipper, nosing at your jaw and softly rutting into your ass while panting above you

the moment your fly is undone, his breathing gets ragged and drool nearly starts dripping down his chin

cages you against a bench or wall to rut against your ass and breathe in your scent after a long day at work

if you introduce him to rimming,, lord save your soul. his scruff rubs your ass raw with how often he goes to town on your tight, puckered hole. his favourite bit is pulling back and admiring how you glint in the light with his spit shining all over

of course, the extra spit only helps his efforts of bullying his throbbing cock into your poor hole

whenever michael is close to the edge while buried deep in you, he starts uncontrollably twitching and bumping your prostate, causing you to let out a pitchy whine at the unexpected feeling. every time without a doubt, his eyes roll back and growls into your ear at you clenching around him

he has a small photo shrine of your cocks together, a mess of cum and spit framed for his appreciation (he's a romantic)

his dirty fantasy is getting your attention while you're on the phone in bed by mouthing and groping at your cock, working you through the fabric of your pants

michael is obsessed with rutting his cock against yours, covering each other in your arousals, cum spurting up onto your chests as you nip and kiss at each other's chest and throat

_ _ _ _ _

afab hcs

mikey loses his mind a little each time you cream on his shaft, feeling your arousal dripping down to his balls and coating the insides of his thighs. just the thought of your slick coating him is enough to make his eyes roll back

he rips or cuts your underwear off you if he's too impatient to wait for you to fully undress

once michael is fully stuffed inside you, he gently traces where you meet, in awe of how he manages to fit in your heat

his large hands span over the bulge of his cock in your tummy, making you tear up at the pressure and drip onto the sheets

leans his head closer to your ear just to make sure you hear his groans and grunts while he destroys your pussy

his favourite sight is his pearly globs of cum oozing out of your puffy, soaked hole - made complete by the fucked out glaze in your eyes as you stare at the blurry spectre of a giant between your thighs

he tentatively gropes your thighs and enjoys warming his hands by sticking them up your shirt. if you both happen to make an appearance in public, expect him to crowd around you to try and shield you form from wandering eyes - he may be yours but you're also his, so no one has a right to touch or even look at your precious body (especially not your soft tits or ass, they're for him only)

teach him to tie his hair in a messy bun or acquire a hairband for him to keep his hair from getting sticky whenever he does down on you, slurping and worshipping your pussy like it's his god-given purpose on this earth

once he tries taking you in a mating press, he accidentally discovers heaven. he can fully dwarf you in his shadow and also cradle your pretty face while erratically thrusting and groaning in that raspy voice you love. if he fucks you dumb, he's more than happy to wipe away your tears

sometimes michael hesitates pushing into you for fear of it hurting too much, unintentionally resulting in him working you up by teasing your entrance with his thick cockhead then nudging your clit, fully soaking his length in your arousal

_ _ _ _ _

ftm hcs

mikey initially gets scared if you administer hrt yourself with a needle - he knows what happens to rowdy patients who get the needle back at the asylum. however, as he slowly notices physical changes in your body, he'll marvel at your form developing before his very eyes

michael's sadistic side comes out when he spanks your cock until your sloppy boycunt is drooling onto the mattress. he makes sure to gently slip his finger in your hole every so often, his delight in your whines is very evident when you can feel him throbbing under you

his strong forearms easily hold down your hips to stop them from rutting into his mouth whenever he sucks you off, making you shiver with every thrust of his tongue. his dick is neglected while he goes to town, not that mikey minds at all. he knows he'll be able to go balls deep after you've cum at least once to loosen up for him

due to his strength, he'll keep you still even while you become overstimulated, the pleasure bordering on pain but he's too far gone to care - this man becomes so pussydrunk that he can barely process that he's stained all of the material in your immediate vicinity with your arousal; your pants, his shirt, the carpet and not to mention the couch or bedsheets from his erratic wiping of his fingers when they get too slippery

loves to have you bouncing on his cock - grabbing your hips until they're bruised to control the pace and depth, pushing you to take all of him inside

sometimes if you look extra delectable while attempting to reach something off of a high shelf, michael may not be able to control himself and his craving for your taste - he will bend you over with no hesitation and make out with your cunt, nose glistening in your folds as his chapped lips graze against your tdick and his chin dripping with your pre. his massive hands groping your ass as he spreads your legs for better access

the rhythmic clapping of his heavy balls slapping your sopping cock is forever engrained in his mind, sometimes resurfacing at the most inconvenient times - he will be forced to rush home in the middle of an attempted spree just to feel your body against his

_ _ _ _ _

mtf hcs

michael chases the sensation of having you pressed up against him while you're wearing clothing he's gotten you

he loves you feeling pretty whenever you're on top, tucking your hair behind your ear and using his thumb to swipe his cum off your chin

he will make you do your makeup before you fuck, needing you to feel as beautiful as possible while he absolutely destroys your hole - lipgloss smeared, mascara running, hair mussed and bruises all over your hips. he views you as a goddess, so expect him to make you feel like one

when you guide him to take your balls in his mouth, he'll eagerly suckle on them then return to your tip for his reward, eager to lap up your arousal with obscene slurping noises and proud huffs of satisfaction

he has a small shrine of your panties he's borrowed, keeping the ones with the dainty floral details for 'creative inspiration'

mikey gently squeezes on the back of your neck when preparing to take you from behind - he cannot simply cum from you squirming in impatience and grinding into him, he's not even inside you yet (it would be a waste quite frankly)

as his stubble rubs you raw whenever he eats you out, prepare for the bubbling heat beneath your skin to return tenfold whenever he fucks your thighs like a madman

_ _ _ _ _

sorry if writing quality dropped, this took so long lmao. art the clown is next btw, look out for that.

thanks for reading. lmk if you liked it. if i got anything wrong, don't hesitate to tell me.

stay safe.

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envy-of-the-apple · 9 months ago

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Dark!Naga!SatoSugu x reader

Top of the Food Chain

I've always wanted to continue my naga!mha fic but considering i dont write for deku+co anymore, i decided to move my au a couple fandoms over:D 1.8k wc

Part two , Part three

(Warnings: animal deaths, blood, obsession, dark content, slight gun threat but not rlly, polyamory, gender ambigious!reader)

Despite being here for nearly a week, you still don't think Satoru understood how delicate you are.

He's overbearing, in that sense. Constantly poking and prodding and squeezing until your lungs give and you're forced to squeak. You can't blame him for not understanding. He's an animal, after all. Inhuman. Despite his skin and hair, the scales coating his tail give away just how different he is. He was probably born fighting, kicking, and screeching his way through the foliage, hunting, chewing, and biting.

He's not like you when all you knew when you were younger was coddling and softness. You can see it in his scars, and bruises, and marks.

Luckily, for you, Suguru had an inkling that you weren't made for sharp claws.

It's not a fight, you can tell when they're fighting, it's more like a warning? A minor disagreement. Suguru hisses at the other naga, scrunching up his face, showing his teeth. Satoru is quick to respond, but a little more playful. Fortunately for you, the black-haired male seems to win the argument. Satoru's coils loosen around you. Air stops fighting its way to get into your lungs.

You finally go lax in his hold. Satoru seems to enjoy that, dipping his head to bury his face into the base of his neck. The first few times he did that, you were afraid he was trying to bite off your jugular. Now, you think it's just another way he can soak up your body heat.

Maybe you've been here for longer than a week. At this point, you couldn't really tell. Hope that you'd be found was starting to slowly fizzle away. The explosion had been massive. The ship had sunk in a matter of minutes. With a disaster that huge, you doubt anyone would still be looking for survivors. Especially on an uncharted island, where myth had turned into reality.

Satoru had been the one you'd woken up to. Washed ashore, barely conscious. You were half-certain he was planning on eating you with the way he held your leg, watching your muscles bend and turn. In his defense, he must have thought you were dead. Your shrill scream quickly convinced him otherwise.

It was barely a fight. More or less, a pathetic kidnapping as he grabbed your body, slinging it over his shoulder. You've never remembered screaming and crying so loudly before, convinced you were about to be eaten. Suguru probably heard you before he saw you.

Satoru's mate was a little less impressed with you. Back then, they didn't bother learning your tongue, speaking in hisses and snarls, unaware of your misery. Suguru's frown was glued on his face, but the naga never let you run away, always keeping a hand or a tail on you at all times. It was a rough first day; you didn't know they weren't interested in eating you until they tried to feed you.

Things were much different back then Nowadays, they are a lot more considerate of yourself and your soft body. You think you've come to an understanding with these strange creatures.

Suguru was the nicest out of the two. In that, you mean the least rough. Compared to his counterpart, he's a bit smaller, but that's not saying there's any real difference. If it comes down to it, you are more than certain he'd be able to kill you off as quickly as his mate. You thought he hated you, at first. Now, you think he has a hard time showing blatant affection. His touches typically come in the dead of night, when you're barely conscious. A clawed finger gently raking over your soft skin. Large hands sculpting your face.

Satoru's eyes were the first thing you noticed about him. Glittering like blue sapphires. You had a feeling they weren't just for show. Time and time again he's proven that he can see better than Suguru could. He smiles a lot more, but you're starting to wonder if that expression translates across species. He can speak your tongue slightly better than Suguru could. It most likely has to do with his insistence on staying with you. The more time you spend with him, the more you have to say 'No' 'Don't touch there' 'Stop'.

In the rare times you manage to escape their hold, you like watching them interact with each other. They often sunbathe for hours, lazing around hot rocks to soak in the heat. They like touching each other. Sometimes it's aggressive, like when Satoru chomps on Suguru's neck and you're suddenly much more aware of how careful he is with you. Other times it's: soft, unintentional, meaningless. Languid cuddling when you are finally able to braid Suguru's hair.

At this point, you've surmised they won't eat you. At least, not for the moment. You don't exactly know what they think of you. Do they have the concept of pets in their worldview? Maybe that's the closest thing you can place yourself as, at least in their eyes. They must think you're helpless. To them, you have no claws, no fangs, no venom. They probably don't know you come from a species that's hunted others to extinction and currently burning down the planet. You must be the first time they've ever seen your kind, stripped away from your weapons, when you're the least dangerous.

"You should be more scared of me, you know," you once whispered to Suguru in the dead of night.

He was dozing off, blearily keeping his eyes open to stare at your moving lips. There was a grunt behind you, and Satoru tightened his arms across your waist. Greedy for affection, even in his sleep.

"Humans are terrifying," you said, reaching out to touch, "top of the food chain."

Suguru had smiled at that. You found yourself smiling back.

"You're lucky I didn't have a gun on me. You probably don't even know what that is." It's dark humor to press two fingers into his forehead. Your way of coping maybe.

Or perhaps your actions prove that humans will always desire to be violent, no matter how perilous their fight may be.

"Bang." He leans into your touch, unafraid. Oblivious to the threat that you are.

You're guessing Satoru only let you go because of the food Suguru brought.

You're able to feel the ground again as he glides over to Suguru having just come back from a successful hunt. The carcass of the largest deer you've ever seen is slung across his back. The smell of blood already makes you nauseous.

You think Suguru had been the most panicked when you refused to eat, clicking and cooing while he tried to force-feed you the bloody leg of a bear. Back then, your communication was even worse than it was now. You were smeared in crimson by the time he relented. Practically dripping in it.

Now, Suguru knows you have different tastes than them. You're not a big fan of raw. The fish and the handful of berries are more than enough to sate you as you gather the items he's given in your hands.

"Thank you," you say. You reach out, touching his face with warm fingers. He purrs into your touch. You smile. It's the least gratitude you can give him. After all, he's not asking for much. If they hadn't found you, you would have been dead long ago, or at least, significantly less weaker. It's the least you can do.

For a moment, you delude yourself into thinking they were your pets. It'd certainly be easy too. They have little to no regard for personal boundaries, much like dogs. They're more animalistic than they are human.

It's funny to think of these monsters as lovable pets.

"Thank you," Suguru repeats. You giggle. It's not like they actually understand you. It's simple mimicry. Like talking to a parrot.

"Thank you!" Satoru chirps, never one to be left out. He pushes his mate out of the way, eager for your pets as well. Suguru hisses, but doesn't argue. You've learned they like to be scratched right there on the bottoms of their chins.

Suguru's less obvious, but Satoru has no desire to pretend. He melts into you, practically slumping his weight into your weak hold. It's a little adorable actually. You give a little laugh. He seems even more pleased at that.

They're fun to be around, but this can't last. You belong with other humans, far far away from this island. So far, you hadn't seen any boats in the horizon, but you hope one would come by soon. A plane would be even better. Close enough to give you hope. Maybe if you built a big enough fire, it'd reach someone eye.

Hopefully, in just a few weeks, these creatures will be a very cherished memory.

You frown when Satoru reaches over to grasp at your food, the meat specifically. You glare, moving away from his hold. He titters in clear disappointment. You hate seeing him sad but you already have so few food sources. It's best to conserve whatever you get.

"No," you pointedly tell him, "It's mine. Mine."

His frown deepens, and he opens his jaws to let his fangs pop out.

"Mine," you repeat.

He leans back, huffing. You laugh because you know his expression is more out of frustration than any actual anger. Again, animals. You pet his head in apology, before turning away. You'd have to start a tiny fire to start cooking. Raw fish is edible, but it's hardly desirable.

A hand grabs yours, clawed, the grip is tight around your frail skin. When you look back, Satoru is staring at you. Eyes wide. Eager.

"Mine," he says, but it's more like he's testing the word. Tasting it on his lips.

You scoff, unamused. "That's my arm. Not yours."

Satoru smiles. Sharp teeth. You suddenly remember he's a carnivore.

He's slow when he draws you in, practically dragging you into his arms. You're used to his spontaneous hugs, tight and suffocating. You can't fight him off, so you typically wait until Suguru has enough of his behavior and drags him off you.

"Mine," Satoru repeats. Alarm bells ring in your head but it's easy to brush them off. It's mimicry. They can't understand. It's like talking to a parrot.

You feel the weight of the other naga at your back. His arms wrap around your waist, pushing you against Satoru's chest. You stiffen when Suguru's fangs lightly graze up your neck. Never quite punctures, but is terrifyingly close.

"Mine," Suguru says into your skin.

You laugh again, but it comes out less hesitant. More airy. Amid their hold, a sudden thought comes to you.

If you weren't at the top of the food chain anymore, then who was?

#yandere #dark content #yandere jjk #non con touching #yandere gojo satoru #yandere geto suguru #dark gojo satoru #dark geto suguru #naga au #naga gojo satoru #naga geto suguru #animal death #language barriers #polygamous relationship #Top of the Food Chain #yandere satosugu #dark satosugu #naga satosugu

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tom-foolery-incorporated · 20 days ago

Text

Envy

Soundwave is jealous Shockwave gets to have a pet.

Cyberverse, Shockwave x reader, AFAB human gender neutral reader, racially ambiguous, Soundwave has a crush on the reader, voyeurism, possessive Shockwave, slight breeding kink

It wasn’t fair how Shockwave got to keep a pet. In fact it was quite strange to see Shockwave take to anyone let alone an organic.

Homosapien, the species if primate that took their planet and molded it to their liking. Humans could be considered the dominant species in terms of the impact their presence has made.

Compared to Cybertronians, humans are so simple. Their issues, their wars, their joys all so simple. However despite this, or maybe because of this, Shockwave managed to find himself a doting pet.

For some reason it made Soundwave’s inner most energon come to a boil. It bubbled behind his spark seeing you so cutely perched atop Shockwave’s shoulder plate, holding onto one of his finials for balance, with your legs resting over his chasis.

Maybe he was just disgusted that Shockwave would let an organic being, sloppy and mucus producing, be so close to him let alone touch him. Maybe he was enraged with how Shockwave coddled you and kept you from speaking to the other Decepticons. You were an adult of your inferior species, if you misspoke and ended up squashed that shouldn’t be Shockwave’s responsibility.

Seeing you perched on Shockwave’s shoulder, head resting against his optic helm, very obviously bored with their meeting made something in Soundwave so furious he couldn’t describe it. He observed you from behind his red visor, your organic fibers pressed against Shockwave’s purple plating. What did those fibers feel like? Corse? Soft? Wirey? Why did you even have those silly fibers growing from your organic plating anyway.

Skin.

Soundwave remembered overhearing you correct Shockwave and tell him it was skin that covered your frame.

Frag, you corrected Shockwave and he didn’t dispose of your pathetic little body that instant.

Just why did Shockwave keep you around so much? Why did such a proud and logical mech succumb to such desires as to keep an organic pet like some low Autobot?

The way you nuzzled your face against Shockwave’s optic helm and absentmindedly stroked his finial with one of your much smaller hands made Soundwave’s spark irk. It was like you were punching him in his abdomen. Your soft and squishy meat hands managed to make the metal of his frame bend in jealousy.

No!

Soundwave was not jealous! Your soft form perched atop his rival’s shoulder shouldn’t make him feel so angry. Yet here he was seething in silence trying to make sense of his jealousy. Perhaps he wanted another cassette bot to accompany Lazerbeak? A small cassette bot he could have perched on his shoulder. One that would dote on him like you do Shockwave. A cassette bot that would stroke his faceplate, press gentle kisses across his mask, and calm him down.

“It’s okay,” the cassette bot would purr rubbing their soft face against his metal plating. “I’m your now. I’m all yours.” Little fibers tickling his audial receptor as his little cassette nuzzles him. Little fabric coverings bunching under his servo as he holds them against his chasis. You’d look so cute waiting for him in his habsuite, a cube of energon ready for him as you eagerly reach up to wrap your arms around him.

Soundwave shook his head finding his processor had conjured a fantasy he wasn’t entirely sure was his. Yet whose else’s fantasy could it be?

He could only stare at you so perfectly perched on Shockwave’s shoulder. Your eyes looked glazed over and your eyelids would shut periodically. Soundwave couldn’t figure out why he found the human recharge state so cute.

Then you looked at him.

Your tired gaze moved to Soundwave. He had heard that humans were sensitive to being stared at. It was amazing seeing how you could sense his gaze without even looking at him. Your eyes wandered over his frame in a bored manner before offering Soundwave a small smile.

He swore his spark stopped.

You then cuddled your face against Shockwave and closed your eyes. How could such a small organic feel so comfortable around mechs twice their size? Mechs that would kill them if they were only just a little bored. Do you really trust Shockwave enough to protect you against that? Shockwave? Of all mechs??

Soundwave wandered the various decks of the Nemesis ordering Decepticon foot soldiers to do various tasks to cover up the fact that he was trying to clear his mind.

Your soft organic features squished against Shockwave’s helm during the last bits of the meeting was imprinted on Soundwave’s processor. Your cute little intake parted open as you slept through the Decepticon High Command discussing strategy.

Your intake looked so soft. He’d seen you apply some sort of balm to your intake giving it a mild shine and a fruity smell. Soundwave had gotten the luxury of walking into Shockwave’s lab only to see you apply the balm then press your plush intake against Shockwave’s optic. Little wet kiss marks covered the side of his helmet as he worked.

Soundwave recorded the entire thing and meant to use it as blackmail against Shockwave but for some reason he couldn’t stop replaying the video. Cute little organic intake kissing the side of a big bad Decepticon’s helm like they were a sparkling.

Spundwave’s fantasy was thrown off when he heard a whine then a gasp. The noises sounded too airy to be caused by someone in pain so that meant-

Shockwave’s lab.

He was right in front of Shockwave’s lab.

Soundwave pushed the metal door open slightly only to peek in to see the source of the noise.

Your little form splayed on the table Shockwave used to operate on, sweat dripping off your body, your precious lips parted in wanting moans.

Soundwave couldn’t remove his optics from the scene. He couldn’t pry his gaze from how Shockwave’s servo dug into your thigh, squishing the meat there under his grasp, as he held your legs open. His spike buried halfway inside of you yet still more than enough to cause a bump on your lower abdomen.

Soundwave watched in awe as the bump would shrink then rise again with every thrust of Shockwave’s pelvis.

“You did excellent today,” Shockwave praised. You only moaned out his name reaching your little hands up towards him. The purple mech indulged by leaning down so you can grab onto his chasis. “You have been very well behaved,” Shockwave said in almost a whisper. “It is only logical to reinforce such behavior with a reward.” He ran his servo up your thigh to your hip grabbing the fat there and pulling you down with every thrust. His canon arm keeping him balanced on the table next to you as his pelvis swung into yours. Wet slopping sounds could be heard and Soundwave made sure to record them all.

His servo glided down to his modesty panel as it hissed open. Soundwave’s spike sprung out already glistening with transfluid. He rubbed his servo over the blue metal as he disabled his vocalizers.

Soundwave wondered what you felt like. He was thoroughly impressed that you were even able to take spike from a mech of Shockwave’s size. Considering your size difference, Soundwave assumed you’d be a tight fit. His servo gripped his spike harder trying to emulate what he thought your organic valve felt like.

Shockwave’s lab was filled with your sounds. Moans of his name, wet schlick from your pussy, your pleas for more from Shockwave. What more could you take? You could barely fit half his spike inside of you yet you want more?

Soundwave felt his servo quicken at how thoroughly used you looked. It was obvious Shockwave had been tormenting you for a while by the sounds of the leaky mess between your legs and the glistening sweat on your body.

“You will take my transfluid,” Shockwave said with a slight glitch in his voice. “Am I understood?”

You nodded eagerly. You lifted your pelvis giving Shockwave more room to use you like a spike sleeve. “Afterwards you are to use the plug I gave you,” Shockwave’s hips started to falter.

Plug?

Soundwave nearly overloaded onto the door to the lab. Shockwave had been filling you up with his overload then plugging up your little human valve to keep him inside. He wondered if you were wearing a plug during the meeting. Were you filled with transfluid with a cute plug keeping everything inside when you smiled at him?

Soundwave couldn’t control the way his servo moved. It should be his transfluid inside of you. Maybe Soundwave could fuck you well enough that he could push Shockwave’s tainted overload out of your pussy and replace that emptiness with his instead.

How cute would you look bent over, panting for air and leaking so much transfluid it forms a puddle under you. Soundwave would have to plug you up with his digits to make sure you didn’t waste anymore before filling you up all over again as punishment.

The shriek you let out of Shockwave’s name made Soundwave boil with rage yet the noise of you wailing in such pleasure was enough to throw him over the edge. Pink glowing fluid splattered against the door to the lab as Soundwave continued to ride out his high.

Around your spent hole, the same fluid leaked around Shockwave’s spike. His engine revving and his vents stuttering in bliss. His little pet, his perfectly trained spike sleeve. His and his alone; which reminded him.

A message appeared at the corner of Soundwave’s vision: “I hope we have come to a mutual understanding in regards to who the human belongs to.”

Soundwave leaned back against the other door confused in his post orgasmic haze before being hit with realization. He flipped his helmet around to look back into the room to see Shockwave looking at him from the corner of his optic as he tenderly caressed your body.

Your intake formed into a smile as you stretched and moaned under Shockwave’s servo. Your poor little brain filled with nothing but pure bliss at being filled with Shockwave’s overload.

Soundwave looked at his transfluid soaked servo then at the door he made a mess of then back at you being pampered by Shockwave.

The scientist’s servo slid back down to your human valve rubbing at your clit with his thumb. You squirmed under him with your eyebrows furrowed. Your moans a mixture of pain and pleasure all the while Shockwave stared at Soundwave through his hiding spot to further rub in whose pet you were.

#transformers #shockwave x reader #soundwave x reader #shockwave #soundwave #valveplug #valveplug x reader #shockwave x reader valveplug #soundwave x reader valveplug #transformers smut #cyberverse x reader #transformers cyberverse

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yandere-daydreams · 1 year ago

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Title: Final Girl.

Pairing: Yandere!Chrollo x Reader (HxH).

Word Count: 1.4k.

TW: 'Girl' Is In The Title But Reader Is Gender Neutral, Death and Blood, Mentions of Guns, Manipulation, Implied Kidnapping, and Spoilers for the Ninteenth-Century Novel Dracula.

The night you met him was, by no coincidence, also the night you learned what it meant to feel your blood run cold.

‘Met’ might’ve been an exaggeration. You didn’t meet him so much as you stood still and stared at him – lumbering down the hallway, clutching a gore-splattered butcher's knife, his suit disheveled and stained with a dark, blotting substance you couldn’t bring yourself to put a name to, in your fear-induced paralysis. With the manor's high ceilings and dim lighting, he seemed impossibly tall, his black eyes blank and terrible, his smile manic in a way that sent a chill up your spine, that left you frozen where you stood and unable to run as he came to stand in front of you, as he raised a hand and—

And pointed to the book tucked under your arm, a yellowed paperback beaten to hell and back from weeks of loving abuse. You’d spent hours wondering if you should bring it with you, if there was anyone else on the face of the planet who’d be stupid enough to bring a book to a mascarade ball, but you figured you’d have to step out for a breath of fresh air at some point, tonight, and phones weren’t really an option at this kind of thing. Looking back on it, you struggled to remember why you’d spent so much time agonizing over something so inconsequential, especially when whoever found your body likely wouldn’t pay it a second glance. “Is that—” He started, pausing to wet his lips before correcting himself. “Is that Bram Stoker’s Dracula?”

You blinked several times, shifting your weight. “It is,” you managed, eventually, just before the point of no return. “I… I’m only a few chapters in, though. They’re only on the second blood transfusion.”

His smile widened. “I’m reading it for the second time, now. That’s one of the best passages - you can practically feel the dread mounting in the prose.” While he spoke, you stole another glance at his attire. With your shock beginning to fade and your nerves given a few seconds to cool, you could see that he clearly hadn’t just walked out of a crime scene. His clothes were wrinkled, but not torn, not displaced the way they would’ve been if he’d been in a real fight, and he was covered in a cartoonish amount of (presumably fake) blood. He couldn’t have meant for it to be realistic, not unless you were supposed to believe he’d bled twenty people dry on his own.

He must’ve noticed you staring. His rambling trailed off into an airy chuckle, his free hand drifting to his blood-soaked shirt. “I’m afraid I might’ve misread my invitation,” he admitted, with a slight shrug. You were almost in awe of his nonchalance. Showing up to a masquerade ball in a costume fit for a b-rated haunted house would’ve left you catatonic for… god, the rest of the year, at least. “That’s how I found my way back here, actually. You can understand why I wouldn’t want to stay in the ballroom for very long, considering I’m dressed for a very different party.”

“No, no, that makes a lot of sense! I mean, a costume party would be more in-season.” You felt like an idiot. You could only hope you hadn’t looked as scared as you felt. “Honestly, I’m just surprised they let you in with a prop.”

He glanced to his ‘knife’, too, as if he’d forgotten he was holding it. “Oh, this little thing?” He took the blade in his free hand, bending it downward. Unceremoniously, it snapped into two pieces as easily as if it’d been made of little more than tin foil and plastic - which, to be fair, it probably was. “Most people struggle to see me as a threat, for whatever reason.”

“The doormen probably just felt bad for the strange man who showed up to a charity gala covered in blood.” You spared a small smile, then genuinely brightened, taking up your novel and fishing out the spare mask you’d shoved between the pages while you were getting ready. He should’ve counted himself lucky that you could never be bothered to find a real bookmark. “Mine came in a set of two,” you explained, signaling for him to bend down. A little too easily, he obeyed, stooping just low enough for you to work your spare mask over his head. It was cheaper than anything you would usually like to show off – the base simple black cloth, the embroidery meaninglessly gaudy, the main body kept in place by little more than a simple white ribbon that never seemed to sit just right, but he accepted your offering with a grateful hum. “It’s not much, but—” You paused, buttoning his suit jacket, doing your best to make it look a little less like he’d just walked out of a bad slasher movie and a little more like a tragically color-blind, but ultimately well-dressed party-goer. “It should get you through the door.”

He straightened his back, and you thought you might’ve seen something spark in his dark eyes. Then again, it could’ve just been the moonlight. “I don’t think I ever got your name.”

Oh, right – that was something most people did before offering to fix a stranger’s clothes, wasn’t it? You rushed to introduce yourself, and he did the same. “Chrollo Lucilfer.” And then, offering you his hand, “Perhaps I’d be more warmly received with a plus one?”

As hesitant as you were to slip back into the ballroom on the arm of a disheveled stranger who’d already made an impression of his own, it would’ve broken your heart to turn him down. That, and you might’ve had a weakness for disheveled strangers who fell on the more handsome side of the spectrum.

You laughed as you threaded your arm through his, letting Chrollo guide you back to the main event. A second passed with only the sound of your footsteps and distance music to fill the quiet, then another. Eventually, you broke the silence. “It’s very well-written,” you started, trying to fight the urge to fidget. “But… I don’t think I’m the right audience. I care too much about Lucy. Seeing her go through so much and knowing she’s not going to make it is just—” You sighed, shook your head. “It’s agony. Especially when the villain is literally in the title. I mean, I know the characters don’t know that, but still.”

“The benefit of a voyeur's perspective.” For all his glowing praise, he didn’t seem very offended. “I think the dramatic irony is part of the appeal. By the time the tension breaks, it’s nearly too painful to keep going.”

“Which is exactly why it hurts to read,” you groaned, slumping into his side. “I get why it’s happening, but I just can’t stand spending so long on the build-up knowing how it’s going to end. It probably doesn’t help that Lucy’s one of my favorites, either. Well, aside from Mina, but it wouldn’t be fair to compare her to the author’s self-insert.”

The two of you came to a pair of rounded oak doors. There’d been a pair of attendants stationed outside when you left, but Chrollo didn’t seem to mind shouldering it open himself, ushering you inside with a smile and an idle gesture. You took a second to steel your nerves, still not entirely prepared to throw yourself into a very crowded room filled with very loud music and very eager socialites, then crossed the threshold, coming face to face with—

Carnage. Pure, unadulterated carnage.

There were bodies everywhere, each corpse mangled and bruised and broken in every possible way. Dark blood and broken glass covered the formerly pristine ivory floor, and the walls were painted with the remnants of gunfire. A few people were still standing – the murderers, you figured, judging by the blood on their outlandish clothes, the weapons in their hands, the indifferent agitation written across their expressions as you stared at them in horror, as your heart threatened to give out for the second time that night. The tallest man you’d ever seen pointed a hand-held machine gun in your direction, but Chrollo found his way back to your side, resting a hand on your shoulder as he spoke. “Hold your fire,” he said, casually, as if you weren’t standing at the edge of a bloodbath. As if he’d known what he was leading you into. “I think I’m going to keep this one.”

You didn’t say anything. You couldn’t speak. You couldn’t move. You couldn’t breathe. The air hitched in your throat as he brought a hand up to your chin, tilting your head back and forcing you to meet his unblinking stare. You’d been right the first time. There was never anything his eyes could’ve been but terrible. “I always did like Mina.”

There was never anything he could’ve been but a monster, prowling for his next kill.

“I guess I just have a soft spot for survivors.”

#yandere #yandere x reader #yandere x you #yandere imagines #yandere oneshot #yandere hunter x hunter #hunter x hunter #hunter x hunter imagines #yandere hxh #hxh imagines #yandere chrollo lucilfer #chrollo x reader #yanderecore #yancore

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birdyshewrote · 2 days ago

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“Sleeping Aid”

Logan Howlett x Reader

written by birdy

Summary: You’re a newer member of Xavier’s Mansion after the infamous Wolverine had saved you during a mission. Since then, you’ve been having trouble sleeping in the new home, and you’re not the only one.

Warnings/Tags: Soft!Logan Howlett x Reader, 18+, gender of reader never specified, Logan calls Reader “Kid”, lots of fluff, smoking, cuddling.

——————————————————————————

It had only been a few weeks at the mansion. The memories and trauma of past experiences and experiments fresh in your head. These traumas mainly came out during night. You’d wake up in a cold, damp sweat. Once you gathered your surroundings, you’d step out of bed, threw on some slippers, and scurry down the long, dark hallways. It was late. Very late. The time of night where everyone was already in deep sleep, so you kept quiet, opening the large doors outside into the large yard.

“Ain’t it a bit late to be sneaking out, Bub?”

You turn to face the voice that you recognized immediately.

Logan stands against the mansion wall. Cicadas and crickets chirp in the summer night. He lifts a cigar to his mouth, a sharp canine gently biting into it. An owl echoes in the air. He peers down at you, a hint of protectiveness in his tone and demeanor, relaxed, but ready to defend.

You pause, feeling caught in the act. “Just.. couldn’t sleep.” You say, rubbing your hands up and down your arms in the chilled, open air. The wet grass brushes against your ankles.

He takes a puff from his lit cigar as you speak, furrowing his brows. He exhales the thick smoke from his mouth before he responds,

“Well, Kid. Slipping out into the night isn’t gonna make those eyelids any heavier.” He spoke low, his tone teasing.

You step forward, slumping down the wall next to him, sitting next to his big, brown leather boots. You inhale deeply. The fresh air mixed with cigar smoke and slight smell of Logan’s musk fills your chest, relaxing you.

Logan lifts an eyebrow, sensing your heavy mood. He rests the cigar in his mouth, kneeling down next to you. His dark, blue jeans bending and folding at his knees.

“Alright, what’s troublin’ ya Kid?” He sighs, looking at your dimly lit face.

You politely smile at his concern, shaking your head. “Nothing, nothing,” you reassure him, “Just uh.. dreams.”

He studies your face and nods slightly.

“Mm.” He hums in understanding. “I getcha. Had ‘em too for a while.” He speaks softly and slowly, his own sleep deprivation showing through his speech. “Come on. It’s cold out here, you’ll get sick. Let’s go back inside, I’ll stay withya. I’ll take care of you.” He puts out his cigar on the pavement and offers a rough, large hand to help lift you up, which you take with your own. He helps you stand, leading you back into the building.

“You hungry?” He asks as you pass the kitchen. You shake your head, rubbing your eyes. He puts a comforting hand on your back, ever so slightly smiling to himself as he watches you walk, your head low, exhaustion slowly draping over your mind. He likes this. Feeling like your guardian. Watching you, leading you back to bed, making sure you get the rest you need.

Once you’re back to your room, he reorganizes your bed, fluffing your pillow, and then extending his hands towards the sleeping area, mouthing a “Ta-Da”

You smile, watching him, kicking off your slippers and flopping into the bed. He throws some covers over you gently, making sure you’re warm and safe.

“Good?”

You nod.

“Get some sleep.” He turns to leave, but you grab his large arm. He turns, slightly startled.

“Do you mind.. staying?”

He could fall apart. Your voice, so soft and gentle, it’s crumbling and puts a twang through his heart. He huffs gently, sitting on the edge of the bed next to you.

“Okay, Kid.” He nods, his eyes half lidded.

You notice the slowness in his voice. “You’re tired too.”

“It’s okay, I can watch over you.”

You blink slowly, looking up at his face. His eyes tired, but gentle. You scoot over, opening the covers. He picks up on your asking.

“Mm, okay. But you better not steal the blanket.”

Before you knew it, the tall, brooding man was laying next to you in your bed, taking up most of the space. You didn’t mind though, this only meant you were in his space, which felt nice. The scent of dark leather and alcohol lingered in your bed. You secretly hope the smell with stain your sheets for a few days.

“Don’t get used to this.” He grumbles against the back of your neck, laying behind you with his muscular, relaxed arm under your head.

You sigh in response, taking a mental note of the space he was leaving between your two bodies. Were you overstepping? Was he uncomfortable? Before your self criticism could be spoken out loud, he threw his other arm over your waist.

“This okay?” He mumbles, half awake.

You nod, your heart thumping in your chest now.

“Are you sure?” He asks, “I can hear your heart. You uncomfortable?”

You smile, and turn your body around to face him. He slowly lifts his eyes open, an eyebrow twitching in reaction to your sudden movements. He looks at your face, the way your smooth skin blends into your soft lips and the way your eyelashes curl up. You look back at him, studying his face for a moment. His dark, thick eyebrows lay relaxed on his worn face. His hair is messy now, untamed and wild. You reach out a hand to feel the side of his cheek, the harsh stubble and beard hair gently scraping the back of your fingers. He gently leans into your hand, closing his eyes again and breathing your air.

You retract your hand, lean down and rest the top of your forehead on his chest. The fabric of his white wifebeater is soft in comparison to his rough, warm skin.

Logan had said not to get used to this. He told himself he wouldn’t get used to it. No matter what he said, nothing could change the unspoken understanding that this was the start of a new tradition between the two of you.

#logan howlet x reader #logan howlet smut #logan howlett #logan wolverine #logan x reader #worst wolverine #wolverine imagine #deadpool and wolverine #wolverine fanfiction #wolverine x you #wolverine x reader #wolverine smut #wolverine fluff #logan fluff #logan howlett fluff #logan headcanons #logan howlett headcanon #wolverine headcanons

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novankenn · 2 months ago

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More than meets the Eye

Joan was a nervous wreck as Coco escorted her to the small cheap motel she would book a room in every time she needed to be in Vale to relax. Now Joan was relieved that Coco had stepped in and ended the situation with the pair of drunks... but terror still filled her. A terror of being outed. A fear of being harshly judged and ridiculed.

"So I want to say I'm sorry, about earlier." Coco spoke up breaking the silence as the pair continued down the street towards the motel.

Joan gave her a questioning look.

"About upsetting you when you were dancing." Coco expounded. "I just wanted to met you and... well... I know I over stepped and made you uncomfortable."

Joan shook her head and gave Coco a weak smile, before mouthing "Okay."

"I appreciate that." Coco returned the smile.

Silence once again settled between them and the last couple minutes of their journey passed by without any further interactions. Once at the pair was standing outside the Motel's office Joan gave Coco another smile before waving and heading off to her room. Coco bit her lip as she watched Joan's pert derriere sway, but the fashionista was also taking note of the room the young woman stepped into.

"Well it's late, so I should let Vel, Yats, and Fox know I'm camping out for the night." Coco commented to herself as she pulled out her scroll and walked into the Motel's office.

/==/

Jaune was tired when he awoke the next morning, and after a hot shower he took his time carefully repacking the components that allowed him to create his 'Joan' alter-ego. As he finished putting everything back in it's proper place, he checked his scroll. If he didn't hurry he would be late in meeting his team for breakfast.

"I need to get this fixed." Jaune mumbled as the latch to the carry-on sized case that contained 'Joan' wasn't securing properly. Knowing he was getting short on time he placed the case on the floor, pulled out the extendable handle and made his way out the door.

"HEY WHAT DO YOU THINK YOU'RE DOING!?!" came a loud voice from behind him just as he started to make his way for the stairs. Startled Jaune tripped over his own feet and was sent sprawling to face first to the floor.

"I ASKED YOU..." the voice stopped shouting as Jaune rolled over. His blue eyes going wide as he saw what he could only conclude would be the end of his existence at Beacon... Coco.

Coco's eyes narrowed and she started to take a step forward. She had seen this guy sneaking out of Joan's room with a bag, probably Joan's bag and... she knew him. He was from Beacon. He had tried to help her teammate Velvet. Then she saw the mess of items that had spilt from the case.

Jaune scrambled to his feet, and set about to as quickly as he could gather up the few items that had scattered when he tripped over himself. He wished he could take more time and place everything back properly, but he needed to get away while Coco was hesitating.

Coco's hand lashed out just as Jaune was starting to move away from her. It clamped down rather forcefully upon his wrist. Blue eyes rimmed with fear and centered with a growing rage looked at her.

"Let me go." Jaune spoke slowly. It was all over if Coco talked, but regardless of that. Jaune was in no mood to continue interacting with the fashionista. He hadn't wanted to when he was Joan, and he sure as hell wasn't going to now.

"Explain."

"No."

"Explain. I want to know..."

"Why the fuck should I?" Jaune retorted. "This has nothing to do with you."

"It does now."

"Does it? Why is that?" Jaune asked back as he finally was able to yank himself free of Coco's grasp. "Because I sure as fuck don't see how any of this is of any concern to you."

"You're coming into Vale to be a girl. I would like to know why?"

"Too bad. I need to go." Jaune commented as he started to take a couple steps away.

"If you do, I won't mention this anyone. I'll keep your secret." Coco offered.

"You're no better than Cardin." Jaune snapped. That simple phrase hit Coco like a slap to the face, and before she could recover, Jaune was down the stairs and climbing into a cab.

#rwby #jaune arc #coco adel #cross dressing #undecided pairing #feeling free as someone else #may or may not get updates #a fem!jaune story?#slight gender bending

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geordikisser · 4 months ago

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isaacwhy with a partner that has a praise kink,,,, he would feed into it so bad ik it,,,,,,,,, hcs/blurb plz!

a/n NY WI-FI IS SO ASS OMG SORRY GUYS..

REQ OPEN

epilogue: you have a praise kink! and isaac won’t tell you but he notices it. a lot.

content contains! nsfw, gender neutral usage

sfw:

♡ you and isaac were freaky but never really delved into kink talk.. so imagine his surprise when he notes your responses to him complimenting and appreciating little things you do

♡ he asks for his cup and you get it? “thanks baby” and you’d cheese so hard like it wasn’t a simple task?

♡ you did your hair a different way or had a stunning outfit? “you look amazing, my love.” and you felt your knees bend inward. isaac notes all these reactions to know how to tease you and slowly but surely, he would start to abuse this knowledge.

♡ he would start to be a bit more extra with his compliments towards you. adding more ‘charisma’ i would say…..

♡ “good job, thank you so much baby. :3” and he runs his hands to the small of your back, tickling you slightly. feelings your insides turn to mush

♡ he would start to be more touch and kiss your more when complimenting you. kissing your forehead or cheek. maybe even a quick peck on the lips

♡ if you did something he asked if you to do you will get a slight ear full.

♡ over text he will make his intentions more evident to praise you a lot

nsfw:

♡ he’ll definitely praise you a lot in bed as well, if you take his cock good he’ll be stuttering a mess.

♡ “you’re so fucking good for me, such a good slut.” as he groans and pushes your head down

♡ his praising would be more excessive here, isaac would be a degrade-y man but finding out you loooove praise made him a new man

♡ when he preps you, he’ll whisper sweet nothings to you as he does. massaging your tummy as he does, down to your waist

♡ “oh you’re so good for me baby. taking my fingers so well. i can’t wait to see you be all pretty on my cock.”

♡ isaac is already a vocal man during sex, but with his new found information; he will definitely be 100x more vocal!!

#the group chat #tgc #tgc x reader #the group chat x reader #isaacwhy #softwilly #bigt #yumi #yumimain #larrycroft #isaacwhy x reader

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totorolaughs · 5 months ago

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GENDER-BEND! MAKIMA HEAD-CANONS

implied grooming, gn w amab reader in mind, creepy! makima, dead dove (?), reader gets called 'pup/puppy', no beta read , mentions of forced feminization, yandere makima (?) , slight obsessive/possessive makima (?), cliff hanger(?), male! makima, gender-bend makima, he/him from makima, no pronouns for reader!

male! makima who you saw when you were with your mom walking your dog at night, his yellow eyes with their red rings within them made you feel uneasy.. male! makima who has been keeping his eyes on you ever since you both locked eyes, something about you that made him want to keep you as a pet perhaps? male! makima, who finally meets you on your way back from school. you both bumped into each-other since you weren't paying attention as you were in your own little world, “apologizes” he spoke with a soft smile. ‘he's pretty..’ you think to yourself but quickly notice his eyes, it's the same man you saw when you young, “sorry..” you mumble as you look down at your feet and quickly walk away. male! makima who watches you through your bedroom window with his creepy eyes as you complain to your parents you can't sleep since you feel paranoid of someone watching you as you sleep. male! makima who watches you grow up as time goes on, and tries to find ways to get closer to you as time goes on. male! makima gets impatient, while you're out at school one day makima slaughters both of your parents and makes it look like a devil had slaughtered them. male! makima who's overjoyed when he hears the news that you’ll be joining and becoming a devil hunter. male! makima who slowly turns into a weird type of father figure for you since he always takes care of you after your long days of patrolling.

male! makima treats you better than anyone else in the division, and you're his favorite puppy. male! makima who gets you to trust him, and finally has you in his grasp to toy with your mind. male! makima who gets oddly touchy when you both are alone in his office, he’ll ask you to sit under his desk and pets you like a dog as he does paperwork saying it helps concentrate, makima who will place you on his lap and lap warm him like a puppy. male! makima, who becomes creepier and instead of doing paperwork goes out and sees you in action killing devils, down said it causes him to get hot and bothered seeing you covered in blood and gore! male! makima doesn't trust anyone else to keep eyes on you so he does it himself after sitting at his desk pumping his cock at the thought of you. male! makima hates whenever you try to avoid him thinking he wouldn't notice his pup trying to get away from his grasp. male! makima buys you cute dresses and makes you try them on whenever you misbehave. he'll force you to wear them to fight devils, he doesn't care if you feel embarrassed, it's what you deserve.

male! makima gets overhears you have been having a secret relationship with one of the members of the division, he isnt so happy to hear that, you're his puppy and if he has to keep you on a leash he will, but first he'll have to deal with a pest.

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syxilla · 4 months ago

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If requests is still up then - Can you please do a kenji sato x best friend/ extrovert x introvert relationship. Where kenji likes showing off , reader is reserved. And like a balanced relation?!🙏

Kenji x !introverted bestfriend reader

my requests are open dw! actually this is my first ever ask, so idrk how i'll do- but i think i got what u wanted correctly? (pls tell me if im wrong) also, as usual i dont proof read so mind my mistakes! (Ｔ▽Ｔ)

cw: ken sato x gender neutral reader, relatively sfw, introverted reader, (pre-relationship) best friend reader, reader is a pessimist, ken is aggresively kind (kinda)

-bestfriend! kenji who aggresively shakes you while holding your arm. "y/n!" kenji yells excitedly, this made you drop your book, bending its pages. "oh my- what do you want ji?" you grumbled, taking a deep breath to calm yourself down. "you~" he flirted while smirking.

-bestfriend! kenji who gets a flick in the middle of his forehead. "you made me drop my book." who'd rub the spot with a pout playing on his lips. "that hurttt" he whined. "and what do you want me to do about it?" youd query, picking up your book tryying to find the page. "a kiss to make the pain go away?"hed smile.

-bestfriend! kenji who's smile would grow wider once he felt your soft lift press against his head briefly. "thank you!" hed drag out before swinging an arm pver your shoulder to bring you closer. you know, regular friend things.

-bestfriend! kenji who always forces you out of your comfort zone by dragging you to events such as concerts, parades, festivals and most recently the movies. the movies where hed buy everything for you both, eat an absurd amount of snacks you both knew would make his tummy hurt and yet he still did. putting on a mask to not draw any unwanted attention to you both. forcing you to watch horror movies with him that had an excessive amount of blood and nightmare fuel, making you cling onto his arm whenever itd make you jump. not that he minded. of course he wouldnt mind, he never did when it was you.

-bestfriend! kenji who'd rent out the entire theater if you really didnt want to interact with anyone. youd always try to discourag him from doing so, saying he shouldnt spend a lot of money on you, but he always says its fine. he loves to show off his wealth to you, and he also loves to spoil you. buyinng you gifts and practically anything you wanted. just say the word and youll have it. perks of having rich baseball players as a (sadly) best friend.

-bestfriend! kenji who'd drag you into various fancy stores that someone of your working class would have no idea about just so you could rate the things hed grab. "does this shirt look good on me?" hed ask, as if he could look bad in anything. and youd nod, a slight warmness in your cheeks when youd watch him change in and out of each shirt. trying your best to not stare.

-bestfriend! kenji who'd lay his head on yours or on your shoulder after a tiring game. only wanting to sleep. and you didnt mind, just ruffling his hair and enjoying the company of your friend. all while ignoring the little voices in your friend that were desperately trying to change the word friend into something else.

-bestfriend! kenji who promises to always be by your side in larger crowds. tuggling you close enough so that you felt the warmth generating off of his body. you especially liked this warmth during the winter, he was like your own personal fireplce wrapped in a ball of cuteness and a ribbon of sarcasm.

-bestfriend! kenji who you may or may not have feelings for. the same kenji who just asked you out on a date.

(i hope i didnt dissapoint, ty again for submitting an ask, i hope i did u justice!)

#ken sato #ken sato x reader #ultraman ken sato #gender neutral y/n #ken sato imagines #ultraman #ultraman rising #kenji sato #x reader

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theturtlelovers · 7 months ago

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Can I request a sentence prompt with mikey? Number 4 please where mikey is asking for female so's attention while she's doing some work so she let's him sit in his lap.

𝙳𝚎𝚜𝚔-𝚜𝚒𝚍𝚎 𝙳𝚒𝚜𝚝𝚛𝚊𝚌𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗𝚜

Pairing: Mikey/fem!Reader Rating: Everyone Contents: Mikey wants some attention, so the reader sits on his lap while they work. Warnings: Nothing major, implied established relationship, Mikey is a sweetheart that deserves love, the reader is requested to be fem but can be read as gender neutral. Wordcount: 858

Notes: Boom! More content! Probably gonna burn myself out by accident, but oh well! ¯\_ (ツ)_/¯

The clock ticked relentlessly in the quiet room, a soft metronome marking the passage of an afternoon steeped in silence and concentration. You were deep into your work, papers spread out like a fan in front of you, laptop open and buzzing softly with the hum of productivity. The only light in the room came from the soft glow of the desk lamp and the fading daylight that managed to seep through the blinds.

Outside, the world continued without pause, but inside your small sanctuary, time seemed to slow, bending around the focus of your tasks. It was during one such moment of deep concentration that you felt a presence looming near the doorway.

“Hey,” Mikey’s voice cut gently through the quiet, a soft but firm reminder that life wasn’t all about work.

You looked up, slightly startled, your train of thought breaking like a string of pearls scattered across the floor. Mikey stood there, a sheepish grin spreading across his face, his eyes filled with a playful gleam that you knew all too well.

“What’s up, Mikey?” you asked, a smile tugging at the corners of your lips despite the slight irritation at being interrupted.

“I need some attention,” he admitted, his tone light but his eyes searching, almost hesitant as if he expected you to turn him away.

You sighed, your gaze sweeping over the expanse of papers and the digital clock blinking back at you. There was still so much to do, yet the earnest look in his eyes was too hard to resist. Pushing aside a stack of papers, you patted your lap, a silent invitation.

“C’mere, I can sit on your lap until I’m done working.”

Mikey’s face lit up at the offer, and he didn’t need to be told twice. He moved across the room with that grace unique to him, despite his size and the robust build of his frame. The chair creaked under the combined weight as he settled down, his body cool against yours, a solid presence that radiated comfort.

His arms wrapped around your waist, chin resting on your shoulder as he nuzzled into the crook of your neck, his breath warm against your skin. You couldn’t help but lean back slightly, the familiar scent of him, a mix of his natural musk and the faint hint of mint from his shower earlier, filling your senses.

The keyboard lay forgotten for a moment as you allowed yourself to enjoy the closeness, his presence a calming balm to the frenzy of your workday. But reality couldn't be held at bay for long, and you soon turned your attention back to the screen, your fingers resuming their dance across the keyboard.

Mikey was quiet for a while, simply content in being close to you. But as minutes turned into half an hour, you could feel him shifting, his body starting to fidget as he struggled to keep still. Every so often, his fingers would draw small, absent-minded patterns on your side, or his toes would tap lightly against the floor.

“You okay?” you murmured, not turning your head but speaking softly.

“Yeah, just…” His voice trailed off, and he squeezed you gently. “I just like being here with you, even if you’re busy.”

“That’s sweet, Mikey,” you replied, sincerity lacing your words. “I like having you here too.”

The room fell into a comfortable silence once more, punctuated only by the soft clacking of the keyboard and the occasional shift of paper. As you worked, Mikey’s presence became a grounding force, his steady breathing syncing with your own.

Hours seemed to compress into moments, and when you finally hit 'save' on your document, the realization of time passing so swiftly made you blink in surprise. You stretched, feeling the slight stiffness in your back from sitting too long, and turned to Mikey, who was watching you with a patient, adoring gaze.

“All done?” he asked, his voice a low rumble that vibrated through you.

“All done,” you confirmed, a sense of accomplishment flooding through you, made sweeter by his company.

Mikey helped you tidy up, his large hands making quick work of the scattered papers, aligning them into neat stacks with a precision that always surprised you. Once everything was put away, he stood and offered you his hand, pulling you up into a tight embrace.

“Thanks for letting me stay,” he murmured, his voice muffled as he spoke into your hair.

“Anytime, Mikey. You know that,” you responded, wrapping your arms around him and squeezing back just as tightly.

As you both stepped out of the room, the weight of the work left behind, you felt lighter, the evening ahead promising relaxation and the simple joy of being together. Sometimes, it was these quiet, seemingly mundane moments that deepened your bond the most, the silent affirmations of presence and support weaving a stronger connection between you.

As you walked hand in hand, leaving the confines of your workspace, Mikey’s warmth by your side reminded you that no matter how busy life got, there was always room for a little more love, especially from a turtle as special as Mikey.

Tagging: @whygz, @brightlotusmoon, @mrghostings Interested in getting tagged? Come check it out!

Like what you read? Check out my masterlist to see if you find anything else!

#tmnt bayverse #tmnt #tmnt michelangelo #tmnt donatello #tmnt raphael #tmnt leonardo #tmnt x reader #tmnt donnie #tmnt 2014 #tmnt 2016 #tmnt mikey x reader #tmnt bayverse x reader #tmnt 2012 x reader #tmnt mikey #tmnt michelangelo x reader #tmnt 2012 #tmnt 2007

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