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roosterforme · 21 days

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Yours Truly, Bradley Bradshaw Part 2 | Rooster x Reader

Summary: The collection of letters that Bradley received from the fourth grade class provides him with entertainment while deployed. He takes the time to answer their questions and send a package back to the United States via air mail. But he has your email address. He also has a bit of a crush and some questions himself.

Warnings: Fluff, language

Length: 4100 words

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female teacher!Reader

Check out my masterlist for more! Yours Truly, Bradley Bradshaw masterlist

A few days later, when Bradley was done with his training protocols for the day, he returned to his bunk with a different mission in mind. While he unzipped his flight suit, he eyed the box which was taking up most of his nightstand, and a smile found its way to his lips. He managed to find a notebook that nobody wanted along with a thick, padded envelope, and he was going to take the time to respond to the fourth graders who wrote to him.

He'd spent hours poring over the letters, laughing at some of the questions from the kids and frequently picking up that one photo. He couldn't stop going back for more. For another look at you. Just one more look. Okay, this really was the last one. He had to toss it across the small room toward his duffel so he could focus on something other than your smile and the fact that he might have a tiny crush on a fourth grade teacher who knew absolutely nothing about him. Yet.

The note from Jayden was on the top, and Bradley opened it up and started to jot down a response.

Jayden,

It was so nice to hear from you and the rest of your class. To answer your pertinent questions, I am currently stationed on the USS Theodore Roosevelt. The most disgusting food in the mess hall is easily the cabbage rolls (which taste nothing like cabbage... or rolls). The best food in the mess hall is surprisingly the meatloaf. And yes, I would love to see a photo of your Cocker Spaniel. Please send one next time. I hope you're studying and doing your best in school.

Lt Bradley Bradshaw

The next note he decided to tackle was the one from Violet who had the tiniest handwriting he'd ever seen. The page had at least fifteen questions written out, but he decided to answer just a few for her. He had to squint as he skimmed through them again.

Violet,

You seem very inquisitive. That's a great quality to have, especially if you want to be a pilot someday. No, I did not attend the Naval Academy. I went to the University of Virginia. Yes, the Navy is way better than the Air Force. Yes, I can hold my breath underwater for three minutes. Yes, they actually made me do it. No, I don't think I could make it as a Navy SEAL. Yes, I have been staying hydrated and getting enough sun, thanks so much for asking. Keep studying hard, because you have a lot of school ahead of you before officer training.

Lt Bradley Bradshaw

Okay, so this was actually a lot of fun. Up next was a response to the note from Oliver, which made Bradley laugh every time he looked at it.

Oliver,

Thank you so much for drawing the different Naval aircrafts for me. I hate to break it to you, but I actually do not fly the F-35 Lightning II. Yes, I know they look 'sickeningly cool'. Yes, I know it would be like 'slam dunking off the back of a dragon'. I guess I never knew I was jealous of those pilots until right now.... But I fly the equally cool if not quite as sickening looking F/A-18 Super Hornet. And yes, I would be more than happy to draw my own version of one for you. See below.

Lt. Bradley Bradshaw

The ten minutes he spent replicating his own aircraft to the best of his ability for Oliver churned out a pretty damn good result. He fished his phone out of the nightstand and took a picture to email to Nat when he had time, because she would find this whole thing amusing. Then he reached for the letters from Harrison, Nia and Jackie. He wrote his responses, and after a bit, he had a decent sized stack of letters all ready to go back to the fourth graders.

After a few more days, he worked his way through the entire class, and each kid would soon have a handwritten response on the way. He just needed to figure out what he wanted to say to you. The pretty teacher from the class photo that he now kept tucked in with his personal items. He worked on that one last, writing your full name at the top of the page and wishing you didn't go by the very non-specific Ms. which gave him zero clue as to whether or not you were married.

The package you sent was the nicest piece of deployment mail I have ever received. Thank you. I'm lucky it ended up in my hands. I'm impressed by how much all of your students have learned about aviation this year. I just hope I did them justice in regards to the questions they had for me.

I also hope you don't mind that I replied to each kid individually. They had some very amusing stories and questions, and I wanted to acknowledge all of them. But there was one question in particular that I was asked so many times, I thought I'd answer it here instead. My call sign is kind of a silly one, so it's okay if you all laugh. I go by Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw, and my helmet is mostly red, yellow and black.

Your kids seem like a fun bunch, but I bet they keep you on your toes. Feel free to let them know they can write back to me again, but please include my name on the package this time. I don't know that I'd be lucky enough to have it fall into my hands again by chance. I'll just be here somewhere in the middle of the Pacific Ocean for a few more months, ready to answer any questions you throw at me. Hope to hear back from you soon.

Yours Truly,

Lt Bradley Bradshaw

The following day, he packed everything up and dropped it off with the rest of the ship's outgoing mail. There was a rumor that a helicopter would be coming to pick it up in the next day or two, and he wanted to make sure it got back to California and those fourth graders as soon as possible. On his way back to his bunk, Bradley stopped by the lounge to see if there was an iPad free, hoping to send a quick email or two. He was in luck. He also happened to have your email address memorized.

--------------------------

You yawned at your desk and checked the time on your computer. Within the next ten minutes, your classroom would go from silent solitude to mass chaos, so you took a minute to clear out your email inbox. You had a few messages from some parents and a reminder about Spirit Week from the superintendent. And a random piece of junk mail that must have slipped through the spam filters. You didn't know anyone with a US Navy email address, and you didn't know anyone named Bradley Bradshaw.

As you closed your laptop, you gasped and tried to pry it back open again as quickly as you could. The Navy! The package you sent a few weeks ago! Maybe it was someone writing back to your class! Of course it could just be someone saying they were sorry that they didn't have time to engage with your students, but you figured even that was better than nothing.

"Come on," you whispered, entering your credentials again before your inbox reappeared on your screen. The email was just a few lines long, but it was addressed to you by name. You were smiling immediately as you read it.

I just wanted to let you know that I got the mail you sent to a deployed Naval Aviator. There's a package on its way to your school for your class. It should arrive in about a week or two. Your fourth graders provided me with several hours of entertainment, and I hope they find my answers to their many (and amusing) questions useful. Thanks for the laughs, and thanks for the photos, too. Can't tell you how much I've been enjoying them. Hope to hear from all of you again.

Yours Truly,

Lt Bradley Bradshaw

You squealed and pumped your fists in the air. Someone actually got the box! And he actually responded! The other, older teachers thought you were just wasting your time when you deviated from the lesson plans a bit. Literally all of them said there was no way anyone would write back, even though you took the time to go through the proper channels at Top Gun on North Island. But now you could rub it in their faces, all thanks to Bradley Bradshaw who sounded like he'd had as much fun with this whole thing as your class had.

Then your day really started as Violet and Oliver burst into your classroom, calling out your name with excitement in their voices. The rest of your kids followed behind them, already asking about the plans for the day and what kind of adventure you'd be taking them on in each subject.

When you clapped your hands twice and said, "Good morning," they all clapped and replied with their own greeting, and then they sat quietly with their gazes fixed on you. "Guess who I just got an email from!"

"The president!"

"My grandma!"

"My Cocker Spaniel!"

"Oliver's grandma!"

You just shook your head and tried not to laugh as you said, "None of the above. But do you remember when we wrote and packed up those letters for a real aviator in the military to read?" Most of the kids nodded, so you added, "Well, he emailed us! And he sent us some mail that should arrive in about a week!"

And telling them that was a mistake. Because you didn't know a moment of peace after that. Every morning, you had kids rushing into the room to see if the promised piece of mail arrived yet. Every day you had to disappoint them, but you were finding yourself a little disappointed, too. You wanted to know what this Bradley Bradshaw guy sent back.

You'd responded to his initial email letting him know you and the kids in your class were delighted to hear from him and that you would let him know when the mail he sent arrived at your school. He didn't respond, but you figured he was busy. Too busy to constantly muck about with your class while he was thousands of miles away on a deployment.

And that was what left you standing at your desk with your mouth hanging open in awe when the padded envelope did finally arrive one morning. Because when you carefully cut it open, you found not just one letter to the class but individual handwritten notes, one for each child.

"Wow," you whispered, pulling the note with your name written on the top out of the stack. This man seemed humble and sweet, and his letter made you laugh in more than one spot as you read through it. Then you read it again. He sounded apologetic about responding to each individual kid, but you felt like your insides were melting. Who would do that? Who would take the time to give individual attention to a bunch of nine and ten year olds besides you? And you were technically getting paid to do it.

Bradley Bradshaw seemed willing to continue to engage with your kids, and you weren't going to stop him. Because starting that morning, he became something of a legend to your class. A celebrity. A real lieutenant in the Navy replied to all of their silly questions, and their love of aviation just grew from there. You figured you were going to have to keep your lesson plans going a bit longer while their faces lit up as you walked around the room and handed them each their notes. You had taken the time to skim them beforehand, often laughing at his sense of humor which seemed to jump off the pages.

"Can we write back to him?" Jayden asked as everyone read their notes from Lieutenant Bradshaw. "I have more questions."

You smiled and nodded. "Yes, you may write back to him." Then you postponed your geology lesson until the next day and let them spend the next forty minutes writing some followup letters. You took some pictures of them diligently toiling away at their desks, excitement on their faces. Then you bit your lip and sat down at your own desk.

As you started to construct an email letting him know the envelope had arrived, your thoughts drifted to what he might be like. Humble and sweet, for sure. But he also made it a point to tell you that the box from your class was the best piece of mail he'd ever received while deployed. Maybe he was a little bit lonely. Maybe he was single. Maybe he was stationed on the west coast. Your thoughts started to get ahead of you, and it was hard to reel them in when you imagined him excited to see another email from you. Smiling when he was handed another box from your class during mail call.

Dear Lt Bradley Bradshaw,

We got the envelope from you today, and my kids are absolutely thrilled! I'm not sure if you know how hard it can be to wrangle eighteen fourth graders all at one time, but they are currently sitting quietly and working on new letters for you to read. Once again, please don't feel obligated to continue correspondence if you're too busy. I'm sure you have other people you could be writing to who want your attention as well. I just wanted you to know they are overjoyed that a Naval officer took the time to answer their questions about aviation.

I have attached some photos as proof that they are sitting still. Thanks again for making their day.

You signed your name at the bottom the way you always would from your work email account, and then you attached the photos. After a brief debate about adding the selfie you took with Violet where most of your face was visible, you decided to just go for it. Adding it to the mix wouldn't hurt anything. It wasn't like this semi mystery man would be up all night thinking about you.

But you found that you were still thinking about him when you went home to your silent house and made dinner that evening. Maybe he was a little bit lonely, but maybe you were, too.

-------------------------

It was amazing how infrequently Bradley found himself thinking about Vanessa. He was busier now with his duties picking up a bit more as his deployment wore on, but even when he was tired and in his bunk at night, his thoughts seldom settled on her like he was afraid they might. He didn't miss her or her half-hearted emails, and he wasn't craving the connection of reunion sex with her.

Instead, he was thinking about what a group of fourth graders were learning about this week and what their cute teacher was up to. It had been a few days since you emailed him, letting him know that his package was delivered to your school. You made it sound like the kids were excited that he sent it in the first place, and when he really thought about it, he supposed some officers would have just eaten the snacks and tossed the notes in the trash.

He didn't reply to the email yet, still thrown off a bit by the pictures you attached. Your classroom was vibrant, and the kids were absorbed as they worked on more notes for him to read whenever they happened to be delivered to the carrier. But the photo with you in it held his attention longer than it should have. The fact that you were working at a school that was just a handful of miles from his damn house made him feel warm.

But what would he do about it? What could he do about it? Nothing. He didn't want you to think he was creepy. He still knew essentially nothing else about you. The only thing he could do was keep it friendly if not professional. Unless of course you did something to push the boundaries of conversation into a more personal realm. God, if you did....he didn't think he would be able to handle it.

The next day, when he was heading out on deck to talk to the mechanics who were doing regular maintenance on the aircrafts, he took his phone. "Hey, you mind if I take a few photos of some of the engine parts? I want to send them to a class of fourth graders who will think it's cool."

"Go ahead, Lieutenant," the head mechanic replied. Then he smiled and asked, "You dating a teacher?"

Well. Wouldn't that be something? Bradley would never run out of curious pen pals. He would always have some fourth graders to take interesting photos for and to send notes to. He'd always have a classroom to visit as soon as he got home from a deployment.

He couldn't help but picture you as the teacher.

"Nothing like that," he replied, his voice a little gravelly. "Just writing to some kids who are learning about aviation."

After dinner, when he had a chance to use an iPad in the lounge, he did his best to put together a response to your email that would at least hint at the curiosity he felt.

If all it takes is mail from three thousand miles away to get your class to sit quietly, then I should probably be writing to you every day. But I'm sure you're a great teacher. That's a given considering how much your students learned and shared with me. And I can assure you that I'm more than happy to take the time to write to your class. And you. Please don't think I feel obligated, because I do not. I want to.

I have attached a few pictures of some F/A-18 engine components as well as some of my cockpit controls. Each photo is labeled, but please let me know if you have any questions.

It was nice hearing from you.

Yours Truly,

Lt Bradley Bradshaw

As soon as he hit send, he wanted to kick himself. Should he have included a photo of his face like you had twice now? Or did he already sound too desperate to hear from you and your class again?

"Shit," he muttered, looking around the lounge as if there was going to be someone here proficient in the art of getting to know a fourth grade teacher without sounding stupid. But it was too late now. All he could do was wait for the next mail call or hope you decided to write back to his ramblings by the next time he checked his email.

-----------------------------

You were going to have to scrape your jaw off the floor. You had no idea what this man's face even looked like, but his hands were... something else. And his thighs... well, they were pretty great, too. It must have been too long since you got laid, because you were sitting at your desk in your classroom staring at the set of photos in your inbox, currently unable to look away from his right hand. It was wrapped around the throttle of his aircraft. It was elegant with attractive veins and rough calluses. You were sure that you were supposed to be focusing on the cockpit controls, but all you could see was that hand and his thick, muscular thighs below.

The next photo was no better for you. He was holding up his helmet with his call sign Rooster emblazoned across the front, and you were able to see his left ring finger. There was no wedding band. There was no evidence of an outline where a wedding band would belong. There was just his big, strong hand.

You whimpered softly while your students worked on their math tests. You couldn't help it as you took one last look before logging out of your email account. And now you needed to know if his face matched the very attractive image you had in your mind.

When Jayden called your name, you rocketed to your feet like you'd been caught red handed. "Yes?" you squeaked, your voice sounding higher pitched than usual.

"I'm done with my test. May I have the hall pass and use the restroom?"

You handed it to him as the rest of your class finished working through the math problems. A few minutes later, when you collected the papers from them, Violet asked, "When is Lieutenant Bradshaw going to write back to us?"

It had only been a few days since you mailed him the second box of notes and some more snacks, but it made you happy that they were all so invested in learning more from him.

"It will probably be a few weeks before we get anything in the mail. However... he did email me some pictures of engine and cockpit parts from the aircraft carrier for me to share with you guys." When you looked around the room, the kids were on the edges of their seats, excited expressions on their faces. With a laugh you added, "I was going to wait until tomorrow and use the projector to show them all to you, but if you're very well behaved for the rest of the afternoon, maybe I could pull them up on my computer for you to see them today."

Not two hours later, you were just as excited as the kids were to look at the photos... again. As they crowded around your desk, you opened up the first one of the cockpit to a barrage of questions.

"Is that really his jet?"

"Is that the throttle?"

"What do all the buttons do?"

"Was this right before he flew it?"

Once again you were distracted, but you managed to click over to the next photo, and the kids gasped in delight.

"His helmet is so cool!"

"It says Rooster!"

"That's his call sign!"

"Red is my favorite color!"

You just smiled softly and laughed. "Should we go ahead and start working on another list of questions for him?" you asked as you slowly scrolled through the rest of the pictures. "He said we can write back to him as much as we want to." When everyone cheered, you handed Oliver a marker and pointed to the board at the front of the classroom. "Let's start making a list."

You listened to all of your students call out questions for Bradley while Oliver wrote them down. Then Violet asked, "Can he send us a picture of his whole jet? From the outside of it?"

You cleared your throat and added, "Maybe he could get someone else to take the picture so he could stand in front of it. For size comparison."

Violet nodded, but you knew you were a fraud. Sure, it would be great for the kids to understand just how massive the F/A-18s were compared to an actual person, but you were the one who wanted to see all of Bradley. You were itching for it now.

Later that night, you drank most of a bottle of wine and did something you promised yourself you'd never do. You logged into your work email account after nine o'clock. You skipped over the handful of unread emails from parents and clicked on the icon to compose a new message. With your liquid courage goading you on, you typed up a response to Lieutenant Bradley Bradshaw and hit send before you could think twice.

Thank you for the photos. They were very enlightening. We especially liked the ones where you were showing off your cockpit. Or I did, anyway. The kids liked all of them and started on another list of questions for you. Good luck getting rid of us now.

We were wondering if you could have someone take a picture of you standing in front of your jet. For size comparison purposes. And also because my students would like to know what you look like. Hearing from you makes our day even better.

You couldn't believe how forward you were being with this man who you'd never even met in person, but you fell asleep thinking about his hands and what they might be capable of.

-------------------------

This Bradley makes me swoon. I've never wanted to be a fourth grade teacher so badly in my life. There is something that's starting to blossom between them even though they haven't even met in person. Thanks @mak-32 and @beyondthesefourwalls

PART 3

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venusbby · 1 year

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characters/pairings: itoshi sae x reader

warnings: fluff. the reader is an avid reader lmao so funny. sort of clingy sae? annoyed sae? just sae. maybe ooc too but idrc.

note: self indulgent because i've been reading this one book nonstop for the past week and can't think of anything else. wondered how sae would act with a reader who likes to read a lot like me lol this is lowkey bad forgive me sorry for typos

🌊 summary: sae starts to get annoyed because you won't stop reading your book. (and also because you won't give him your attention, but that's a secret— that isn't as well kept as he thinks it is.)

"y/n," sae muttered. he watched you with a glare, noticing how you had heard him clearly yet still ignored him, continuing to smile to yourself with your bottom lip between your teeth. he rolled his eyes, trying again, this time resting his hand on your thigh. his fingers impatiently tapping against the soft skin.

"y/n."

no response. you even giggled as you read the lines in that book you had been attached to all day long. that little 600 page romance book that entertained you so much more than he could— what the hell was it even about?

sae knew you loved books. you visited the library nearby almost every week, and he couldn't even decide if it was because the lady there was so nice to you or because you wanted to get away from him. there was no way he was that boring, right?

it was always sae who accepted all your amazon packages for the books that hadn't yet arrived in the library— and although the sight of your excited smile when he told you it was finally here was something, he never understood the hype at all.

why would he, when his sport was his all-time focus? books weren't ever as exciting to him as they were to you. so as long as you got any and every book you wanted (he made sure of that) he was alright.

but right now, sae had this urge to hide all your books from you.

especially this one.

because it stole you from him.

sae was annoyed. and he was even more annoyed that he started to think about hiding your books away from you like a madman, because it's fucking embarrassing that he's going borderline insane just because you haven't talked or even looked at him for the past two hours. and he's been in bed next to you this whole time.

he cursed under his breath and subtly thrashed around under the covers like a child who didn't get the toy he wanted. he shifted closer to you in the midst of his little quiet tantrum. "y/n. look at me."

"yeah?"

when you finally looked at him, it was as if he'd found oxygen.

and he hated it even more. why was he like this for you?

but then you went back to that book.

that stupid fucking book. again.

sae was going to cry.

fuck no, he wasn't. he won't. not ever. that's lame. so lame.

whatever. if you liked your book that much, maybe he should find something else to do too, he decided.

he turned around with his back to you and shut his eyes.

and then he heard another sigh. a dreamy one, at that.

"alright, enough. give me that." he jumped up from his sleeping position, grabbing the book from your hands. he didn't even know how to properly hold a book, but he didn't find it in himself to care as he shut it close, a breath of relief escaping from his mouth just as you started to whine.

"sae, no," you struggled, trying to get the book back, but you knew better than to fight against your boyfriend who was glaring at you like that with his lips pressed in a sad, thin line. his hair was still a little damp from the shower he took while you were just into the first 60 pages of the book. he swept his hair back, setting the book beside him, where you couldn't reach— atleast not without getting through him.

"i was almost done," you said slowly, trying your best to explain now that you were out of that world. "i promise, just gimme it now 'n i'll finish the first part in just 20 minutes."

sae scoffed. "fucking no."

he stared at the book placed near his side, literally judging it by its cover. "what's in this that has you giggling so much? some dude?"

you gasped, dramatically. "okay, he is not some dude. he is my husband."

"oi," sae groaned, things still not getting better for him even after that book had been closed and put away from you. "i'm sleeping next to you shirtless, and you've been giggling with your book husband?"

"you're always shirtless, though."

"that doesn't fucking matter." he retorted, huffing and looking to the side, chin up. you pursed your lips, placing a soft hand on his back, and leaning closer to leave a kiss on his shoulder. he always smelled so nice. he shook you off.

"baby, my sweet sae, if you wanted me to stop reading, you could have just said so." you smiled, watching him run another hand through his hair, his fingers pulling on his roots this time.

"first of all, i don't want your attention." he said blankly, finally looking at you. "and second, you ignored me when i said your name. guess you were too busy with your husband."

you laughed quietly, incredibly amused. about an hour ago, you were actually expecting sae to go back to sleep after showering— but for some reason, you were glad he didn't. this new side of him was so adorable that you never wanted it to end.

you sighed, lying back down, urging him to do the same. he listened as you explained, with you on your side facing him. "you know, i love this book a lot."

"i can see that."

so snarky. you resisted the urge to kiss his slightly puffed out cheek.

"it's really romantic. it's about the relationship of this newly married couple, how it develops day by day, and it's so cute. the main guy— my 'husband', is so good to the main character."

sae raised an eyebrow lazily, still opting to look at the ceiling and didn't respond. you weren't going to gain his attention this easily after that.

you went on. "and this guy reminds me of you. like, you guys are similar to an unhealthy extent. and the reason i was so invested in it was because there was a particular scene where things got a little hot."

"so?" he asked, still not convinced.

your cheeks were reddened from embarrassment. "so, whenever he said or did something, i thought of you. and that is why i was giggling."

sae turned to look at you. his eyes looked much more focused on your lips. he had forgotten how much he missed the feeling of kissing you. again, feeling another annoying pang in his heart because seriously, it had just been two hours. he had to stop acting like you'd been away for days.

"so basically you were having sex with 'book me' in your mind."

"oh god, no!"

"that's exactly it."

"you're so wrong."

"shut up, i'm right."

you groaned, covering your face with your palms and closing your eyes. you felt sae's arm slowly trailing around your stomach, him shifting closer until you could feel his breath fanning against your neck. you giggled out of nervousness and embarrassment, both. "that was not what was happening, okay?"

his lips twitched slightly at your state. "you know i'm way better than him."

"...are you, though?" you peeked one eye open, dragging out your words, guilty. fictional men were just different—

"ah, do you need proof?" he said, a smug look on his face as he began hovering over you. your laugh echoed through the room as you smacked his chest playfully, your arms going around his neck to pull him down on top of you.

"i don't need proof, thank you very much." you said softly with another laugh, letting sae rest his head on your chest. "but i wanna make it up to you for ignoring you. im sorry, my sae. i'll be better. you were just really cute."

"don't do it again," he said, staring up at you from his comfortable position. "or else you might have to go back to your 'husband'."

"i won't really mind— wait, baby, don't go! i was joking!"

taglist: @hyomagiri @yoimyas @beanxiv @hqfeatbetty @shuvvloverrr 🤞🤪

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predestinatos · 6 months

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warm enough for you | CL16 𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָ𐀔

chapter 1 chapter 2 chapter 3 chapter 4

pairing: charles leclerc x fem!reader

summary: charles has a special way of getting under your skin, especially when he insists on staying after the party is over. chapter 1 of an ongoing series.

tags: enemies to lovers, smut with a bit of plot, cocky!charles, bratty!yn

word count: 3.6k

minors dni ──★ ˙🍓 ̟ !! warnings & note underneath

warnings: smut, drunk (tipsy) sex, oral (f!receiving), penetration, unprotected sex.

author's note: first time attempting at writing smut and posting anything so please keep up with me. currently working on part 2.

Everyone was slowly leaving your apartment, the party reaching its natural end. Bottles were scattered across your living room, but apart from that, the flat was not as messy as expected. The party was more of a get together, given the small venue where you lived.

You were dizzy, the alcohol getting to your head and body, but conscious enough to decide that you could still clean things up before going to sleep. You waited for everyone to leave, and as you were getting ready to finally let out a deep breath you seemed to be holding the whole night, you notice someone standing, leaning against the kitchen doorframe. “Fuck you scared the shit out of me,” you start. His tall figure contrasted with the multicolored shadows of your living room, still dancing to a rhythm that was no longer there.

Then he chuckled. You knew it was him, he did not have to make a sound for you to recognize his frame, the way he always crossed his arms when he looked at you, as if in constant judgment. But if you had any doubts, that sound gave you all the certainty you needed. It was the chuckle he let out before a snarky remark. “I’m sorry, princess, I didn’t know you were so sensitive…” and there it was. The pet name used solely to annoy you, the tone that clarified his only purpose was to get under your skin.

“I would argue with you, but honestly I just want to clean up so please leave, thank you.” It was true. You enjoyed entertaining this back and forth, feeling him getting more and more irritated yet pleased with himself. But you were not in the mood for it, at least not now. Your head was softly spinning and taking your mind off of things is exactly what you need.

As you walk past him to the living room, in an attempt to showcase how you were not going to even acknowledge him, let alone join him in his games, he pushes himself off of the doorframe. “Just thought you could use some help.”

This was ridiculous, and you let out a loud, obnoxious laugh. Since when does he want to help you? Ever since the day you two met, he made it his mission to be as unhelpful as he could, rolling his eyes at everything you said, giving counter arguments to your opinions even if he agreed with them, all whilst smiling towards you with the look of pleasure over someone’s anger. You tried your best to avoid him, but it was impossible to do so, since your friend group was the same. Wherever you went, there he was, and vice versa. Eventually, obviously, you started acting the same way towards him as he did with you, and this just amused your friends even more. That was why he was here, in your apartment. He comes with the friends package, whether you like it or not.

Once again, apart from the laugh, you said nothing else. Instead, you leaned down and started picking up the empty bottles from the floor, whilst the lights kept changing colors from blue to purple to red. To your surprise, you hear him do the same, although he stumbles on himself a bit more than you. “Lightweight” you say, smirking, making your way towards the kitchen to put the bottles in a trash bag. That, and because the silence in the living room was too loud, made it too tight for both of you to fit.

As you placed the empty bottles carefully in the bag, avoiding the loud noise of glass on glass to heighten your soon to come headache, you feel a hand on your waist. His hand. His grip was tight and soft at the same time, sending shivers down your body which contrast with your annoyance. “Excuse me” he said behind you, almost whispering in your ear. His hand left your waist as fast as it got there, an indication of how he was aware you wanted more. “Was this less scary?” he asked, ironically.

You turned to look at him, almost ignoring the fact that you were trapped against the balcony as his body. You could feel his gaze on yours, and while you tried to hold it, you realized you couldn’t. The best you could do was run a hand through your hair in an attempt to disguise the tension running through your body. “You’re such an asshole” you said.

He finally looked away while smiling to himself, staring out the window. You took a second to notice the way his throat bobbed up and down, his hair was messy and careless due to the alcohol on his system which lowered his inhibitions. “You like it though.” Before you could turn away, his gaze stared at your again. His breathing was heavier than usual, the drunken smirk on his face juxtaposing with his furrowed eyebrows and darkened eyes. His face was so close, too close, for you to think straight. You looked at his lips, breaking eye contact once again, letting him win once again. “You wish” was all you could reply.

Without moving, his voice asked in defiance, “so what if I do?” You could feel his eyes exploring your body, his chest rising and falling in deep, steady, too controlled breaths. The red light in the living room shone behind him, highlighting his shape hovering above you. “That’s rich coming from you” you snickered. As much as you were feeling the tension between you both, as much as your teasing and bickering was reaching to a degree of immense repressed desire every time you two were in the same room, you wouldn’t give him the satisfaction. You couldn’t.

The first time you two met, he went out of his way to drunkenly inform you, at a club, that you two “would never happen” and that he “would never fuck you.” To this day you fail to understand where the comment came from, to this day you don’t understand why he hates you so much but insists on making his presence known to you.

At first he seemed confused at your comment, his eyes searching your face for an explanation, but soon enough they widen in realization. Letting out a soft laugh, Charles ran his hands through his hair, making it even messier. “You still think about that?”

It was a ridiculous question, and he knew it. It was hard to hear something like that from someone who you basically had just met, even though he was drunk when he said it. You had not even had time to consider any sort of thing happening between you two and he had already declared it impossible. It seemed unbelievable that someone could be so full of himself to the point of declaring he was not going to bed with you, even before you showed any interest.

You pushed him away softly, and he did not stop you, despite his clear disappointment. That emotion was quickly replaced by a raising of eyebrows as he saw you open the door to the fridge and taking out two cold beers, handing him one. “You don’t seem to be leaving anytime soon, so help yourself.” Was all you could say.

This behavior could be explained by the alcohol running through both of your veins already, by your tiredness over the night, or the sheer need for company you had been needing for a while. You moved towards the living room again, slouching down on the sofa, and you needed not look back to know Charles was following you.

He lifted your legs, which were resting softly on the couch, only to sit down and place them on his lap carefully, with a grin splattered across his face. His side profile revealed a certain rigidness, his jaw tight and tense, but his eyes were soft and calm. “Did you mean it, though?” you asked. You seemed to have interrupted his thoughts, because his expression was lost at your sudden break of silence in the dark room.

“What do you think?” he asked back, never willing to give you the upper hand or satisfaction of a normal conversation. You tried to distract yourself from his cold hand caressing your leg, mostly because you did not know how much of it was intentional. He seemed to be doing it so nonchalantly and carelessly, you wondered if most of it was just instinct.

You tried to calm your voice before you replied, even though the first word that came out of your mouth sounded deeper and higher at the same time, uneven and nervous. “Well- I think, according to what you said that nigh-“ you started, but couldn’t finish. He did not allow you to, interrupting you and turning his face to you for the first time since you two sat down. “I know you’re not that dense, princess.”

Even in the darkly lit room, you felt his gaze burning your skin, focusing on your lips, then your neck. Meanwhile, you stared at his hand, moving slightly up your leg, sending shivers throughout your whole body, shivers you wish he did not notice, but knew, deep down, he was aware of. He knew the effect these had on you, he knew how to please, because that was his reputation. And you hated it at first, hated that he was so confident in his skills and so utterly arrogant about them, but now it only aroused you even more. You took a big sip of your beer, in an attempt to cool your now burning body.

That seemed to remind Charles he was himself holding a bottle of beer in his own hand, because upon seeing you swallow the liquid, he looked at the hand which was holding it. Moving it in order to hold it by the neck, grinning to himself in proud arrogance, he brought it close to your skin, your body hissing in pleasure at the temperature. You closed your eyes and exhaled softly, not wanting to give him the satisfaction of knowing how much this seemingly simple action affected you, but also not wanting him to stop.

He whispered your name, the request for you to look at him implicit in his voice, and you complied. His movements did not stop, a slow game he seemed to be playing with you, in an attempt to see how far he could go. “You look so fucking hot,” he breathed.

Your body was aflame with lust, and so was his, you could tell. You could see him struggling to even speak clearly, to move clearly, trying his best to control his movements which threatened to unleash themselves. “Careful, Charles, you don’t want to break your promise,” you teased, as you slowly moved closer to him, both in defiance of his actions and tempting him to proceed with them.

He freed both of his hands as you placed yourself directly in front of him, sitting on his lap, feeling his erection through his jeans. “You’re making it very hard for me not to do it” he murmured. “Am I?” you asked again. You were feeling bold, enjoying how both of you were toying with the thin line between hate and desire, between forbidden and allowed. Charles merely nodded hungrily, his hands placed on your hips, caressing them softly.

Your pulse quickened at the touch, but also at his greedy and dark expression. You moved your hands towards his shirt, which you start unbuttoning slowly, revealing more and more of his skin slowly. Before you could move to the fourth button, he abruptly grabs a hold of your wrists and pins you to the sofa, underneath his frame. “Stop being such a fucking tease,” he demanded with an aggressive ardor in his voice. With that, he guided your hand which he was still holding towards his erection. You realized the agony he must be in, how his cock must be throbbing underneath those layers of fabric. You felt weak yourself, with an intoxicating need to undress, to ignite the fire that was visibly about to burst into crimson flames.

“You deserve it” you replied with a smirk. It didn’t seem to convince him, this attempt of yours at seeming stronger and unaffected by what was happening. You and him were playing a game but it was getting too real, too intense, too tempting. Letting go of your hand and getting closer to you, his lips mere inches away from yours, he placed a hand between your legs, feeling the pooling wetness growing. Your whole body shuddered at this, a moan escaping your lips and giving you away. “You’re just making it harder for yourself,” he whispered smugly, lips brushing against yours.

Desperately you pulled him in for a kiss. His kiss was filled with intoxicating craving, a groan escaping his lips at the sudden action, his hips grinding against you in frenzied movements. Breaking your kiss, his lips moved towards your neck, softly biting it and leaving wet marks as he kept going down. You undid the knot holding your short dress together, thanking yourself for the easy-access choice of wardrobe.

As he kissed your stomach and paused at your navel, looking up at you as if asking for confirmation. You looked at him and saw how he looked: disheveled and flushed, his cheeks red and messy hair. He looked absolutely mesmerizing, the mix of complete submission but demanding attitude affecting your body through a quickened pulse. You could only nod your permission, finding yourself at a loss of words. He did not hesitate to pull down your lacy underwear, leaving you exposed to him, feeling his warm breath against you. All at once, his lips were exploring your opening, followed by his tongue, moving with ravish.

You cried audibly in pleasure, your back arching against him in untamed pleasure. Unable to hold his own need for pleasure, Charles unzipped his jeans and began stroking himself. His ragged grunts made your body melt in jolts of bliss, and watching him touching himself as he ate you out sent you completely over the edge.

He raised his eyes at you as he kept savoring you, some of his hair sticking to his forehead, his gaze filled with contrasting innocence and total control over you. He pulled his lips away from you, placing himself above your frame, making you look so small in comparison to him. He hovered over you, shirt completely unbuttoned, hand still pleasuring his cock, visibly throbbing with need. You couldn’t help but lick your lips at the sight of him, face wet from your juices and his saliva, chest rising and falling incoherently. “I knew you’d love it” he breathed out.

It was admirable, really. How he still teased you and made it his mission to get under your skin, even like this. “That’s all you’ve got?” you replied, eyebrows raised, eyes half closed in unspoken defiance. “You’re jerking yourself off like a desperate teenager and I’m the one ‘loving it’?” you were testing him. Trying to see how much you could push him over the edge, annoy him, how he would take it out on you – or not.

“God you’re such a fucking brat” he hissed, holding your body with ease and turning you around, lying on your stomach. With his knees, he spread your legs apart and positioned himself between them. You felt him lower himself down, preparing yourself to be filled up, to quench the thirst growing at every passing second but- nothing was happening.

“What the fuck-“ you complained, annoyed. It was slightly embarrassing, your frustration over how long he was taking, and when you turned your head around slightly to see what was wrong, you saw that he had won. He was doing it on purpose, despite his own desperation to bury himself inside you. Amused, he chuckled bringing his hand to your back, caressing it as if to ease your pain in mocking comfort. “You have to tell me what you want, princess.”

“You can’t be serious” you hissed back. But he was, and you knew it. You had gotten this far already, and yet he would not let this go, and you did not know why he insisted so much. You had no idea how much it turned him on to see that only he could affect you like he did, to see how much control he had over you.

Rolling your eyes and doing your best at a monocordic voice, you complied “fuck me, Charles.” Yes, you were being bratty and petty, and yes, you would do anything just for him to fill the emptiness you were feeling inside you.

“You’re such a brat,” he growls as he thrusts himself into you. Your instantly arch your back in pain ad pleasure, feeling his whole body vibrating into you with untamed hunger. His hands grip your waist and force you to switch from a lying position to all fours, allowing him to access you easier. He continued his thrusts as he left bites on the back of your neck, and you filled the room with your cries.

He was not being soft or sweet about it. Charles was completely immersed in his need to have you, so much so that he could barely see anything apart from you, back arched in pleasure for him, the switching lights illuminating every curve of your body in sensuous effect. He dreamt about possessing you like this so often, thought about how good you’d feel so many times, that what was happening seemed to him unreal. He felt himself close to coming as you clenched around him, but before he could so, he pulled himself out of you.

“Not yet,” he started. His voice was husked and lazy, a reflection of how much restraint it was taking him not to fill you up already. You were about to protest, being so close yourself, but as you turned around you found yourself mesmerized by the sight of him. His green eyes were glossy, his face completely flushed and sweaty from withhold pleasure. As you stared at him, he raised an eyebrow and gave you a half-smile. He ran a hand through his disheveled hair, doing nothing to fix it, but it didn’t matter. He seemed almost shy about how you were looing at him, which was insane and ridiculous, given what you were doing, what you were.

“I want to look at you” you said. This caused Charles’ eyes to widen in surprise, not expecting your bluntness. Even you were shocked at what you said and how demanding you sounded, but you couldn’t help yourself.

Holding one of your ankles and placing it on his shoulder, Charles entered you with unleashed violence, his gazed interlocked with yours. You thought about how pornographic the view must be for him as well, your swollen lips, some tears of pleasure running through your cheeks, and a sloppy smile plastered across your face. You feel absolutely lightheaded, almost drunk with ecstasy. “Putain, j'aime quand tu me regardes comme ça” he said, French escaping his lips as he loses all capacity to form coherent thoughts. This just made your pulse quicken, your skin bursting with fulfillment.

His pace fastened even more, as he grunted and throbbed with how good he felt inside you. “Your cunt feels so fucking good” he kept repeating, his eyebrows furrowed as if attempting to delay his orgasm. “Charles, I- I’m gonna cum” you try telling him, between breaths and moans. “Fuck, fuck, look at me” he demanded, holding your face so it wouldn’t move away from his gaze. With that, you erupted in pleasure, completely undone beneath him, body trembling.

The view was so overwhelming, Charles couldn’t help but come as well, filling you up with fervent ardor, his body falling limply on top of yours. He remained there, his breathing uneven and erratic, just like yours.

You both lost track of time as you lay there, together. You could have fallen asleep like that, maybe you had, there was no way to tell. He felt warm and comfortable against you, and you felt so close and secure to him that neither of you dared to move.

After a while, his fingers starting drawing small, invisible designs on your still sensitive skin, causing you to giggle. For some time, you two just existed together with nothing else retraining your behavior, your own hands playing with his soft hair, a tired smile on his face.

You wake up with light filling your living room, giving you momentary blindness. The headache was done with its threat to show up, now attacking you with full force, limiting your movements and thoughts. Despite everything, you remembered the night before. Even if you did not, there was evidence that something had happened – or, better, there wasn’t any, and that’s what caught your attention.

The living room was pristine and looked untouched. You were fully dressed in some comfortable clothes, and the TV was on despite the fact that its volume was almost fully off. It seemed as if this was an ordinary day, but you knew it wasn’t.

You grabbed your phone and stared at its screen empty of any sort of texts, notifications or messages. Nothing to prove the night before. You knew it was a mistake to do so, but you couldn’t help typing out the text:

To: Charles (Asshole) Hey, got home safe? (11:33am)

All you got back was a small text underneath yours, which said “Read (11:47)”

#please dont be hard on me ive never tried this before #im sensitive #sort of enemies to lovers #enemies to lovers #charles leclerc #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc x you #charles leclerc fanfic #charles leclerc x female reader #charles leclerc smut #smut with a bit of plot #f1 fanfic #f1 fic #formula 1 x reader #formula 1 x you

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oscalesoffeeling · 2 years

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my western au my western au my fucking western au..

#my privated pussy pussy pussy old man post.... (< refuses to unprivate it)#bitches who are like i'm the entertainer at the local saloon in their western aus.... powerful... unfortunately i've seen un.for.given so #i'm actually a cowboy biographer in my western au..... i could be a singer or pianist at the saloon tho too don't try to pin me down.#singing pianist. i'm the whole package Babey.#i feel like my tarky-warky-poo would be the sheriff and ani would be the deputy. does that make sense.#man fuck the police all my homies HATE the police but i feel like that's what he'd be realistically.#i could be his biographer.... like in un.for.given......#thinking about that one fanart. gimme a sec.#ellie rambles about stuff #he spun the stars on his fingernails (tag)#western au #WHATEVER...#wild wild west more like wilde wilde west lmao

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anikaluv · 10 months

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TRY ‘EM ON —

❤︎︎ pairing: Miles (e!42) × sanrio!fem!reader

❤︎︎ genre: fluff

❤︎︎ cw: too much cuteness, reader is a lil’ whiny (it’s only because Miles spoils her too much), suggestive, reader is also referred / described as a lil’ cutie <3

❤︎︎ summary: You were shopping in the mall and happen to step upon a matching hello kitty underwear set in your favorite lingerie store. You couldn’t resist, so you bought it, now the problem is how to get Miles to wear them.

❤︎︎ w/c: 1.9k

❤︎︎ a/n: Im a sanrio girl myself, and I think it would be cute imagining the reader always trying to pull Miles into her obsession and him just letting it happen cause he loves her <3

The mall bustled with activity around you, various of sights and sounds flooded your senses. The air hummed with excitement as shoppers weaved in and out of the shops. Sunlight streamed through the skylights above, casting a warm glow on the polished floors.

Yet you felt nothing but mournfulness.

Sipping on your boba tea, you felt full of apathy, usually the mall made you feel so happy, yet this time you lazily walked through the mall groggily, dismissing anything that usually allured you.

It felt different without your boyfriend with you, you thought. Usually, he would attentively nod along to your endless rants, entertain you with his charming humor, and willingly accompany you to all your favorite stores without a hint of complaint. His comforting arm wrapped around your waist the whole trip, you missed him.

You asked Miles to join you, but as usual, he claimed to have "important business”— meaning that it was non-negotiable. You were whiny about it at first, but Miles assured that he would make it up to you, just as he always does.

While heading down the escalator, you were contemplating if you should just end this trip early and head home.

Then you saw it.

"LOVER MATCHING SETS: 60% OFF!" Your grin spread across your face as you spotted that your favorite lingerie store was having a sale for lovers, and getting something for you and Miles would surely get you out of your funk.

Mind set on a new mission, you giddily stroud towards the apparel store eager to check out what they had.

As you walked in, a wave of fruity scents lingered through the air, along with mainstream pop music bursting from the speakers.

The friendly clerk behind the counter greeted you with a smile, to which you responded with a nod of acknowledgment.

Assortments of all kinds of bras and lingerie were laid out at all different stands, adorned with detailing of how much off the price was discounted. You slowly walked through the shop, gravitating towards different stands that caught your eye until you made it to the lover set area.

You inspected each of the brands, they were cute, but they just weren’t what you were looking for.

Your shoulders slumped as you let out a deep sigh, you started to believe it was no hope until you reached the end of the stand.

“[BRAND NAME] X HELLO KITTY: MATCHING COUPLE SET.” You instantly smirked, mischievous glowing in your eyes.

It was perfect.

It was a matching panty and boxer set, colored in baby pink and littered with the face of Hello Kitty all over it. You tried to imagine Miles in the boxers and it brought a giggle out of you.

Miles was well aware of your deep fascination with Sanrio, and he wholeheartedly embraced it, going above and beyond to indulge your love with plushies, clothing, and various other items.

However, there was a part of you that desired to test those boundaries, to explore just how far his support for your addiction would stretch.

You eagerly approached the checkout counter, clutching the set in your hands. With a sense of urgency, you swiftly swiped your card. The clerk packaged the item in a small bag, and you walked away from the store, receipt in hand, feeling excitement, clutching your newfound prize.

Your keys jingled as you retrieved them from your purse, the spare key Miles had given you months ago unlocking the Morales home.

Aware of Mrs. Morales' overtime schedule, you guessed that if Miles was finished with his "important business”, he would likely be the only one present.

"Baby, are you here?" Your voice echoed through the apartment, the silence that followed for a mere five seconds evoked a little worry in you that Miles hadn’t return.

Approaching Miles' door, you knocked loudly, causing it to open slowly, revealing Miles on the other side. "Hey, mi sol, sorry if I couldn't hear you; I had my headphones on," he explained, his hand gracefully finding its place around your waist as he tenderly kissed your forehead. In response, you leaned up on your tiptoes, meeting his lips with a loving kiss.

"It's okay, you're not doing anything, right? I have something I want to give you." You lifted the bag from the lingerie store, shaking it while holding it up for him to see, and Miles let out a chuckle. "Oh? Did my chiquita buy something for me?" he asked, his voice tinged with curiosity. He stepped aside, allowing you to enter his room.

Rolling your eyes playfully at his comment, you hurriedly walked into his room and settled onto his bed. Miles followed behind, moving slowly as he took a seat in his desk chair. "So, what did you get me, ma?" he asked, raising an eyebrow while eyeing the bag in your hands.

A genuine smile illuminated your face as you handed him the bag. "While I was at the mall, they had this sale for lover sets," you explained. Miles smirked, “Oh yeah?,” he asked, rubbing his hands together, probably expecting a seductive lingerie peice for you and perhaps some fancy boxers for himself.

His smile quickly faded.

You erupted with laughter as he revealed the pink boxers, the sheer absurdity of it pushing you to the brink of tears. He released a groan in an annoyed manner, tossing the bag onto the floor.

"Do you like it, baby?" you asked, your tone teasing. Unfortunately, he didn't hear your question, too occupied with having a stank face towards the underwear, which only made you laugh harder.

Miles scowled and let out a sigh, realizing that this whole situation was providing you with great amusement. "Baby, I love you, but I ain’t putting that shit on," he declared, his tone laced with distaste.

The laughter you once had stopped. You couldn't help but pout, gazing at him with your most prettiest eyes. "Come on, Miles, you promised to make it up to me for not coming, and this is how you can." You clasped your hands together, attempting to look like you were begging. He sucked in his teeth, watching you intently, well aware that he could never say no to you.

Miles lowered his head, silently cursing to himself, as he reluctantly accepted the situation at hand. "Fine, but only if you try ‘em on first, ma," he agreed, nodding towards the panties that were still nestled in the bag.

Blushing slightly, you slowly rubbed the back of your neck. "Fine," you replied, accepting the offer. With that, you sealed the deal and made your way to the nearby bathroom to change. Gliding into one of Miles' oversized shirts and slipping the panties, you took a moment to gather yourself.

"What's taking so long, hermosa?" he called out to you jokingly. You frowned at his comment, confused at how the tables turned so quickly. You yelled back to him, "Just a moment!" Emerging a few seconds later, you stepped out to reveal your changed appearance.

As soon as you walked out it was like Miles’ eyes were all over you. "Damn, angelita," he whispered, his voice dripping with seduction, causing a playful giggle to escape your lips. "Do a lil’ turn me f’me, baby," he requested. Raising the shirt slightly to reveal the panties you wore, you slowly turned, teasingly showcasing them from the back. As you observed his heavy breathing, a rush of warmth spread through your body, flushing your skin.

Unexpectedly, his hand reached up and firmly grasped your ass, eliciting a gasp of surprise from you. "You should wear stuff like this more often, mami," he chuckled, a glint of desire evident in his eyes. You swore his pupils dilated with intensity. "You look incredibly hot in this," he added, his words dripping with attraction.

You flashed a playful smirk and slyly winked at him. “We’ll see,” taunting evident in your voice. You forced your mind to focus back on the real show, "Alright, now it's your turn to try on yours," you teased, a mischievous grin on your lips. You observed how his jaw clenched; you knew it would all be worth it soon.

Miles took a while to put the underwear on; you were slightly worried he was trying to talk himself out of it. Eventually, you heard grunts and shuffling, so you knew he was changing, and eventually, he came out.

That shit looked hilarious.

You couldn't help but let out a snort the moment Miles walked out. Aware of his discomfort, you tried to stifle your laughter, but it was impossible. The mere sight before you was too much to handle. Your laughter grew uncontrollable, causing you to nearly tumble off the bed in fits of howling amusement. In response, Miles shot you a deadpan expression, retreating to his desk chair while you held on tight to your stomach, struggling to contain the laughter that churned in your stomach.

Wiping away tears of laughter, you composed yourself and sat up straight, posing the question half-seriously, "So, do you approve?" Your smile widened as you observed him arching an eyebrow, silently conveying his disbelief. He let out a deep sigh and responded, "They're aight, mami."

A sense of reassurance washed over you, causing you to clap your hands and let out a gleeful giggle. "Mission accomplished!", you cheered, brimming with happiness. It was in that moment that a grin spread across Miles' face. Despite his usual annoyance to your playful antics, he couldn't deny that witnessing that adorable smile on your face made it all worthwhile.

Miles swiveled in his desk chair, extending his arms invitingly towards you. “C’mere, pretty girl,” he called to you. You eagerly rose from your seat and straddled him, looking as cute as always. “Yes, baby?” you asked, head tilting like a puppy in confusion.

His words exited his mouth with fondness and loving. “Just wanted to get a closer look at my girl”, he confessed, his voice laced with calm, soothing reassurance. Gently, he placed his hands on your waist, and you instinctively leaned into his touch, encircling your arms around his neck.

As you began to excitedly rant about the other lover sets you saw while at the lingerie store, Miles listened intently, his fingertips tracing gentle circles on your hips. At one point, you turned your head and felt his gaze upon you, filling your heart with warmth and causing your cheeks to flush. Your words stumbled and you averted his gaze, unable to meet his affectionate eyes. A soft chuckle escaped Miles as he observed your flustered state.

"Thank you for going out and getting something for me, mi reina," he expressed, his voice filled with gratitude. You placed a light peck on his nose and snuggled into his neck, feeling the comforting embrace of his presence. "I think you look cute in ‘em," you admitted honestly. Miles shook his head playfully at your remark, nuzzling into you and humming a soft melody, creating a intimate atmosphere for the both of you.

“But for real though, these boxers are ass.”

“Miles don’t make me pop you.”

EXTRA: Miles was diligently working on his prowler claws in his base, engrossed in conversation with Uncle Aaron about future targets and jobs. As Miles rose to his feet, his pants slipped slightly, exposing the underwear he had on.

“Yo, Miles, what the hell is that?” Uncle Aaron burst into laughter, his eyes fixated on the sight of Miles wearing baby pink boxers.

Miles eyes widened in confusion, until he looked down and realized what Aaron meant.

"Just a lil’ something my girl got for me," Miles responded, his voice tinged with a hint of amusement and a knowing smile.

By the way, the boxers like looked this, lmaooo. Just wanted ya'll to get a lil' visual.

ENDING A/N: Hope ya’ll enjoyed this one <3 Was gonna add a grinding scene where you and Miles grinded against each other in the underwear while you were straddling him, but someone has already flagged me on here so I’m trynna keep it on the down low rn 😂

TAGLIST: @janaeby @bellstwd @nmgstuff @axeoverblade @zaddyskye69 @agstuffsworld

TAGS:

#anika❤︎︎writes #miles morales x reader #earth 42 miles morales x reader #across the spiderverse #prowler miles #earth 42 miles x you #earth 42 miles fluff #atsv miles #earth 42 miles morales x black!reader #earth 42 miles x reader

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ruggiezz · 7 months

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— TWST CHARACTERS PLAYING ROBLOX : twisted wonderland

[synopsis] twisted wonderland characters play roblox and some of them fail miserably

[characters] heartslabyul, octavinelle, and scarabia

[extra] play roblox, is very entertaining, especially apeirophobia, 10/10 would reccomend. adeuce is a package deal you can't separate them. i may or may not have gotten carried away writing these

★﹕RIDDLE ROSEHEARTS — word bomb

He didn't even want to try it at first. That's a game for kids, right? He's occupied with his studies. Then you introduced him to Word Bomb, a game where he could show off the fact that he read an entire encyclopedia when he was a kid. He destroys people in the game; like, ok, you're supposed to write a word with the letters they give you, but how did Riddle come up with the word "uvulopalatopharyngoplasty"?

Now he plays in his free time, but he does it like his family's honor is at risk. He only lost once since he started playing, and he took it personally.

★﹕TREY CLOVER — bloxy bingo

One of the two who decided to pick a chill game. Trey is just trying to take a break; why are people insulting him in seven different languages because he won once? This game feels like he is in a retirement home playing with old people, except the old people are beefing with each other and buying like six different sheets to fill and have more chances to win. A kid even wrote him a whole paragraph in a language he couldn't even read; the only thing he knew was that they insulted his entire bloodline. At the end Trey got frustrated, but not to the point of fighting kids on Roblox.

★﹕CATER DIAMOND — 3008

Cater is not as nice as Trey; he actually does fight kids on Roblox. No, 'Progamerkiller1234', you cannot stay at his fort; it took him three days in the game to make it aesthetically pleasing; no, he doesn't care that the employees are chasing you and that you're about to die; that sounds like a you problem. People have tried to steal his place from him before, and he won't take the risk again. At this point, Cater doesn't even care about the SCP aspect of the game; he's just there to do a whole mansion with the furniture and to show off his pretty avatar. Now, if you ask him to let you stay at his place, he will let you, since you aren't a random person trying to rob him. But please help with collecting food while he's building.

★﹕ACE AND DEUCE — apeirophobia

It started with Ace saying something along the lines of "let's play this game just to laugh at how dumb it is", and somehow progressed into Deuce screaming because a Smiler scared him, Ace screaming because Deuce startled him, and you having to carry them through the game. The backrooms suddenly aren't funny anymore, but Ace doesn't want to quit because he "can't lose to a kid's game". So now the three of you keep replaying and replaying the game, dying in the most stupid ways possible. A Doppelganger killed you, the Titan Smiler caught Deuce because he got stuck, and a Skin Stealer kept killing Ace. You even had to spend 2 hours replaying the funrooms level, and when you thought the horrors were over, you lost the next level.

Please free Deuce from this suffering. It's 4 am and some random entity is chasing him, his throat will be sore tomorrow from how much he screamed. And never mention ever again that Ace screamed because he got startled when Trey knocked on his door.

★﹕AZUL ASHENGROTTO — work at a pizza place

The second Azul started playing, he overthrew the manager and took their position. There's a problem though: nobody works in this game; Azul has to do everything, and I mean everything. He's the cashier, the chef, the delivery guy, and the supplier; he's running around doing all the work. If he could name himself the employee of the month he would, but he's the manager, so the game doesn't allow him. This game got him stressed, and they didn't even pay him well.

Did that teach him to pay his Mostro Lounge employees better? No, the only thing he learned is that he shouldn't play Roblox again because, clearly, nobody there takes having a business seriously.

★﹕JADE LEECH — murder mistery 2

If you don't know what the game is about, it's a game where you're assigned a role every round: citizen, murderer, or sheriff; guess which one is his favorite role. Jade is having a blast; he acts like a pro in the game, and he always wins whenever he is the murderer. The worst thing is that nobody suspects he's good at playing because he has the basic Roblox skin; he refuses to change it because it's useful when playing. He is passively aggressive in the chat whenever someone provokes him, either that or he's just making fun of some random kid who got angry at him.

★﹕FLOYD LEECH — ragdoll engine

The only thing you do in that game is make your character suffer; Floyd likes that very much. The first thing he did was throw himself down the stairs, and then he just couldn't stop. Throwing himself off the highest stairs he could find, down a building, launching himself from a cannon—he just finds it extremely funny to see his character suffer. But his favorite thing is pushing other players. He's a menace; you can be doing your own thing, then he randomly approaches you and starts pushing you around, and he won't leave you alone. I mean, at least he isn't pushing people down the stairs in real life.

★﹕KALIM AL-ASIM — bee swarm simulator

The other one who chose a chill game. It's repetitive, yes, but Kalim is having the time of his life. You caught his interest the second you mentioned the cute bees; they all had cute faces and everything. He got emotionally attached to his bees, so now he plays every time he can. You know those types of players that you see and they make you think they have been playing for years? That's Kalim, except he has only been playing for a month; he has already spent a ridiculous amount of money on the game and on his avatar. He will show you his bees as if they were his kids.

★﹕JAMIL VIPER — natural disaster survival

Stressed, really stressed. Tell him why his character fell off a building because of a tsunami, or why he blew up, or why a meteorite fell on him. WHAT HAPPENED TO HIS LIMB? DID IT FLY AWAY WITH THE TORNADO?? There's so much going on, he's confused and can barely keep up. He has to admit that it's funny when your character dies for some random reason though, you're receiving the same treatment the game gave him.

"WHERE DID MY HAIR GO? WHY AM I BALD??" Jami said a few seconds before a tornado sent him flying.

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rodolfoparras · 8 months

Text

Pillow talk

Pairing: FTM! Peter B. Parker x Top Male Reader

Synopsis: In which Peter, a married man, gets off to the thought of being with someone other than his spouse

Content tags: 18+, MINORS DNI, emotional infidelity, cheating kink, pillow humping, masturbation, oral sex, Peter has a size kink, Peter being a bit of a pervert

A/n: as always pls excuse any mistakes I tried a new writing style here, also if you want you can listen to More Than Friends by Isabel LaRosa while reading this since it’s heavily inspired by it!

A tired sigh escapes Peter’s lips as his bones bleed into the sheets. The window’s cracked ajar, allowing cold autumn air to mingle with the smell of MJ’s perfume that’s lingering around in the room.

He’s stripped down to nothing but his tattered pink robe, searing skin exposed to the chilly sensation emitting from his wedding ring as it trails along the length of his body.

For the first time in a while Peter’s gotten some time alone.

MJ has taken Mayday for the day and left so that Peter could have the house to himself, claiming he’d been pent up for a while and supposedly needed a break.

Peter hadn’t argued against it but had instead taken the offer with grace since it’s true that he has been feeling pent up but not for the reason MJ thinks. Peter’s sure that if she knew the reason behind his recent behaviors she wouldn’t be so willing to help him.

For the last couple of weeks Peter’s been plagued with the realization that he didn’t hate his neighbor, not his next door neighbor because that man is a menace and Peter’s pretty sure the hate’s mutual.

Instead he’s come to the realization that he didn’t hate his neighbor on the floor below him, that neighbor being you.

At first he was sure that he hated you since you made his spider senses tingle, well at least that’s what he thought it was.

He’d first met you at a neighborhood block party. You had recently moved in or so he had heard and were more than eager to get acquainted with the neighbors for whatever reason.

You were lounging around in a lawn chair when he had first arrived with MJ and Mayday.

The poor thing threatened to give out under your weight but you paid it no mind as you entertained a conversation with a neighbor and nourished a beer in your hand.

When you rose to greet him, Peter noticed that you were a whole head taller than him so it was no wonder that you made his spider senses tingle.

He tried his best to ignore you but even when he couldn’t see you, he could smell you since you wore this stupid cologne that smelled stronger than anything MJ’s ever worn before and because of that he could always tell when you were lingering around.

If he thought that smelling and seeing you was bad then touching you was something else.

He’d purposely opted out of a handshake when you first greeted each other but that didn’t save his spider sense from going into overdrive after having your knees knock together while you were sat at the same table or having your elbows brush against each other while scooping up leftovers.

However even though you made his spider sense go off, Peter had quickly realized that you weren’t a threat, at least not a dangerous one.

You were friendly and always made sure to spark up a conversation with him, even when you'd be in a rush to something.

You’d go out your way to bring him any of his mail or packages that happened to be misplaced.

Hell you'd even baby sat Mayday a handful of times so it was safe to say you weren’t a threat. But for whatever reason Peter couldn’t seem to get you out of his head.

Especially after hearing your ever so polite voice protruding through his thin bedroom walls, your dirty words squeezing between his and Mj’s hushed conversations. Or seeing the way you basically engulfed whoever was in your arms but unlike the lawn chair they seemed to thrive from being in your embrace. And escaping the smell of your cologne turned out to be a hard feat since every other day someone would be prancing around in one of your shirts dozed in the smell of it.

He doesn’t even remember when he started making sure that he’d be the one to pick Mayday up from your house, just to see whatever lounge wear you’d be prancing around in that day and the bit of skin that always seemed to show through it.

He doesn’t remember when he started hoping that the mailman would misplace yet another letter or package just so that he could feel your calloused fingertips brushing against his as you handed him something.

He doesn’t even remember when he started biting his tongue just so he wouldn’t ask you who he had seen standing outside your door the previous night.

He shouldn’t be feeling like this. He has MJ and he has Mayday and as far as he knows he’s happy. He’s just pent up, like MJ had said.

It’s not like Peter and MJ don’t have sex. It’s just that she doesn’t do it for him, at least not anymore.

Every time they get intimate he’d have to fake an orgasm or jerk off after she’d gone to bed. Lately he’s even had to pretend to be asleep every time she tried to initiate something because he simply wasn’t up for it.

So he’d find other ways to entertain himself and one of the ways being with inappropriate thoughts of his neighbor.

And things kind of escalate from there not in the literal sense since you’re so fucking polite, wont even look at him twice, keeping a respectful distance to a man who has a kid and a wife.

But God Peter wishes that you did, so much so he imagines you pinning him to the bed, hip to hip, chest to chest, those strong arms and thighs caging him into the mattress

The tattered robe wrapped around his frame doesn’t compare to the way your body would feel on top of his. But he keeps it on anyway, closes his eyes and pretends that the hand leisurely dragging across his limbs is your body pushing down onto his.

He imagines the way your lips would slot together, hot breath washing over his cheek as you whisper dirty words to him.

A thumb finds his lips, teasingly tugging and taunting at the bottom lip. It feels nothing like your calloused fingertips but his tongue peaks past his lips, tasting the salty skin before sinking down on it.

He imagines how you’d tease and taunt him in that polite voice of yours that managed to whisper such dirty words, how you’d mock him for wanting to be fucked like a bitch in heat despite the wedding band digging into his skin, maybe you’d force him to say it just so that he hears it from his own lips or so that the whole neighborhood can hear how desperate he is.

He imagines you straddling his waist grinding into him while wearing nothing but your boxers, teasing him to point where he’s soaking through his own pair of underwear.

A hand slides down his chest, blunt nails dragging down his happy trail, only to stop at the fringe of curls atop of his cunt, tugging and taunting til he’s all worked up.

He imagines your long fingers thrusting into him , or making him finger himself while wearing his wedding band, prepping himself to be fucked by someone other than his spouse.

And God he’s already so wet, fingers easily coating in his arousal as he trails them up his cunt, and in that very moment he can't help but think how MJ never gets him like this.

But his fingers are not enough- this little fantasy of his is not enough but you’re too good to do anything about it so he rolls onto his stomach before propping the pillow between his legs, pretending it’s your face.

He imagines the bed creaking under your shared weight, and the way the smell of your cologne would engulf his senses. He imagines the way your calloused fingertips would sink into the supple skin of his thighs and the way your ever so polite voice would sound as you command him to properly sit down.

He starts moving slowly, rolling his hips cautiously, imagining the way your tongue would experimentally delve through his folds.

The pillow slides in between his folds, coarse fabric creating a steady pressure onto his engorged numb, not enough to overwhelm his senses but enough to send jolts of pleasure coursing through his body every time he moves his hips.

He imagines you wanting to take your time with him wanting to taste him, tongue licking a strip along his cunt up to his puffy clit where you’d continue to tease him until he’s begging and urging you to hurry before someone can find the two of you like this.

But you wouldn’t listen to him, wouldn’t care if anyone were to find you like this, hand slapping his ass in warning before you continued to do as you pleased.

His hand cups the globe of his cheek, much like the way you’d do it if you were with him, except his fingers feel nothing like yours. But the cold sensation from his ring as it slaps his searing skin sends sparks of pleasure coursing through his entire body and for one second it almost feels like you’re actually there with him.

The coarse fabric of the pillow case reminds him so much of your stubble and it’s so wrong but feels so right - the thought of being fucked by someone other than his wife as huffs and pants escape his lips, hips moving faster as he wanders back to his fantasy.

He imagines you having him so worked up to the point where Peter’s long forgotten about the fact that someone can just walk in on you two because the bed’s creaking and he’s loudly begging and pleading for you to stop teasing.

Eventually you'd take pity on him, showing him mercy by properly latching onto his puffy clit, eagerly suckling on it before tonguing his hole.

He adjusts his hips, and the angle in which the pillow hits his clit changes slightly, and intensifies the sensation along with it.

“Oh- oh fuck!” He squeals out, toes curling as he throws his head back.

He imagines the way you’d easily have him teetering on the edge of his release with Peter begging and pleading for you to let him finish.

He can almost taste it, can hear the Squelching sounds mingling with the sound of needy noises escaping his lips. He can even smell his arousal: strong and heady, knowing he’s probably stained the pillow under him and will need to wash it before MJ comes back but for now he can’t find it in himself to care.

He’s so close, needs just a bit more -and that’s when he picks up on the sound of your footsteps walking up the stairs, smells the scent of your cologne bleeding into the air.

You must be on your way to his apartment to bring yet another misplaced package.

And Peter knows it’s wrong but it feels so right, feels himself tip over the edge as you read what’s written on the parcel, out loud

“To Peter B. Parker, please handle with care”

#peter b Parker #peter b parker x reader #peter b parker x male reader #peter Parker #peter Parker x reader #peter Parker x male reader #top male reader #bottom male character #trans male character #into the spider verse #across the spider verse #I tried a new writing style with this one let me know what u think #*nervous laughter*#sometimes I wish this was like AO 3 in terms of writing titles for fics #bc I wanted to out #I know your wife and she wouldn’t mind #but it doesn’t fit the lay out #alec writes #Omg I never tagged this god

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usedpidemo · 6 months

Text

Shangri-la (Oh My Girl Yooa)

Thank you for the commission! I hope it's to your liking.

—————

“What the?”

What welcomes you inside the bedroom takes you by complete surprise. It’s the kind that leaves you with more questions than answers. She had been very vague about the whole ordeal, skittering around the details. she was completely straightforward about one thing: to get fucked. That’s the main selling point.

Her inviting tone, her sultry expression, her lust—it’s still freshly imprinted on your mind from an hour ago. You’ve heard those words—their many variations—a handful of times, but hers is by far the most enticing and the sweetest sounding:

“Wanna have sex with me tonight?”

—————

Admittedly, it was never on your bucket list to attend a concert, let alone a group who sings primarily in foreign. It was supposed to be just a kind gesture for a roommate.

He’s your resident nerdy K-pop fan, the kind that gets bullied in real life and on the internet. He’s the full package; posters on the bedroom wall, a book full of photocards, and a shelf of albums and lightsticks which he considers as his sacred temple. You were never meant to go beyond a toe’s dip into this unhealthy obsession he’s engrossed himself in; completing his homework was enough exposure.

If there was one takeaway from your observations, it was quite obvious: the girls are really hot. And that’s all that you needed to convince yourself to go.

Besides, you were his roommate—and his only friend. Out of the kindness of your heart, you have an obligation to be there for him, at least until you graduate.

For the most part, the show was entertaining. Again, the girls were pretty attractive, and they were dressed in outfits that flaunted their bodies exceptionally well. Your friend’s relentless screaming accustomed you to the crowd’s energy, which was no joke. Even in a small, intimate venue, there were several moments where you felt that the place might collapse off the audience’s deafening shouts alone. At least you came prepared with noise canceling earplugs.

It’s not a huge surprise when he suddenly vanishes after the show. He’s been in and out of sight the whole time; getting freebies, merch shopping, taking numerous bathroom breaks, to the point where he just straight up forgets he left his phone with you before running off again.

To make things worse, it’s the dying moments of the night, when everyone in the VIP section, the two of you included, gets to greet the members for only a brief passing moment. He’d been acting like his entire life has been building to this moment, completely neglecting the fact you were his ride home.

Of course you’re not entirely sure about who’s who in this group. Six equally pretty girls, all wearing the exact same shirt and short skirt combination, down to the colors, with equally warm smiles. You didn’t have enough time to familiarize yourself with each of their names; the internet in the area has been failing you for hours. The staff was strict with phones the closer you approached them. It didn’t help that everyone screamed through their introductions, too.

Unsurprisingly, nothing substantial came of your interaction. A series of repetitive, awkward bows and near-silent whispers of “hello.” You’ve been putting off Duolingo for months, and it showed. It should have been a forgettable affair, considering the hundreds of people they’re greeting just from tonight’s queue alone. It’s not like you particularly stand out from the rest of the crowd; a casual shirt and jeans combo that’s indistinguishable from the dozens in attendance, and you don’t have anything on you that screams ‘overly dedicated fan.’

So when you’re pulled aside by the same staff closely watching the queue during the meet and greet, asked to head backstage as part of some secret lucky draw, you’re not surprised. There’s an age-old superstition that states that you’re more likely to meet celebrities the less you’re familiar with them. It rings true, and you have first hand proof.

You’re led to this singular door in what’s basically an unused narrow hallway. The kind that criminals use to trap their victims. Definitely safe. The staff member instructs you to head in before leaving you there alone. Nothing more, nothing less.

Instead of your friend, you find one of the members you just met, waiting on the other side. You have so many questions, but she she gives you another to entertain:

“You wanna have sex with me tonight?”

Much to her amusement ,you’re taken aback. At first, you’d think she was pulling some kind of prank. By the way she smiles and laughs, it’s a reaction all too familiar to her, like this is some kind of cliche. It’s not a surprise to hear those words from any girl, knowing your experiences at college parties and bars, but from a traveling singer? Simply put, it’s quite ridiculous.

“You’re joking right?” you say, hand close to the door you just entered, ready to make a beeline for it. You glance around the enclosed, compact space, searching for any possible hidden cameras recording the scene.

She shakes her head, taking a step forward. “Not at all. You should consider yourself lucky.”

“Do you do this all the time?” you ask, her reply not easing you in the slightest. Your hand inches a little closer to the door. It’s not like she’s going to hurt you; if anything, her thin figure’s probably what should worry her if you dare to even breathe heavily on her, let alone touch.

“Yeah. Every stop. You look really cute,” she says, reaching her hand out to you. “And you look like you can give me a good time tonight.”

There’s something flattering about her words, coming from an idol singer, complimenting you that hits a chord harder than other girls. Her sincere tone, doll-like eyes twinkling, and expressive lips certainly help. It’s alluring—devastating—to a casual like you; how much more to someone who worships her.

Then, here comes the killing blow:

“So, what’s it going to be?” She kisses you on the chin, wrapping her arms around your neck. It’s not suffocating, not in the slightest, but you might as well be entangled by them. Her eyes, sharp and fiery, are daring you to say otherwise to her seemingly coarse question.

Leaning your head against her shoulder, her scent and soft skin prove to be intoxicating. You can’t get enough. That hand you’ve been pressing on the door is no longer there; it’s coiled around her back, taking inventory of her slim waist and arched back, then teasing at the fabric of her shirt. Even if she wasn’t the girl you just watched perform on stage, she’s too gorgeous to turn down. And it isn’t like you’ll find your friend, anyway. Perhaps this is your way of getting back at him for being insufferable all throughout.

“Here?” you ask, whispering in her ear, playing with fire.

She holds you by the cheek, tilting an eyebrow. Shaking her head, she drags her tongue on the ridge of your ear. “Somewhere nicer.”

—————

It’s only you and her in the backseat of one of their vans, windows tinted and the front closed off that it’s safe to assume that the driver can’t hear you—perfectly convenient. He probably doesn’t know you’re even there.

It’s inside the car that you finally become familiar with each other. YooA, or as she’d prefer you to call her, Shiah, and you have this light bulb moment where you put it all together. You bring up this collection of photocards in your friend’s book holder; you recognize her face on some of the cards. She laughs. Heartily. Her face lights up, honored at the thought, and it’s a sincere look. Other artists would simply wave it off and move on, but she appears intrigued by the effort to obsess over her.

She calls it a bias, and you call it an obsession. In the other’s eyes, you’re both strange. To you, it’s unhealthy and strange; to her, it’s part of the appeal, part of the culture.

So it’s all the more surprising when you admit you’re simply there because of him, that you would have looked the other way otherwise. And in response, she has this warm, wholesome smile; she doesn’t appear offended by your candidness. You don’t know a thing about them, other than they’re delicious eye candy.

“So this is your first foray into K-pop? I hope it was a good one,” she says, flashing you a cute pout. “That means a lot for all of us.”

Yeah, you nod, your eyes wandering down her slim body, draped in darkness, only brought to the light by passing street lamps. You notice how slender and lanky she is. It doesn’t change the appeal; she’s unreal. “I should go more often if that’s the case.”

Shiah chuckles. “You didn’t pay, then. I bet you’re getting more than what he bargained for.”

To which you nod, barely holding in a particularly uncharacteristic grin. She catches it. An opportunity to twist the knife.

It’s a casual affair when you reach the hotel. There’s a surprising lack of fanfare upon your arrival. You assume idols have as much popularity as any other celebrity, but you’re both left alone—and without security, walking past the front desk without a care or a question. Tension gradually builds as you climb floor after floor, until you step out that elevator and into her room, away from prying eyes.

What welcomes you inside Shiah’s bedroom catches you off-guard.

“What the?”

The person sitting at the center of the bed turns to your direction, shouts out your name. You can recognize that voice anywhere.

“Hey! There you are!”

You immediately turn to Shiah, who replies gleefully, “Of course I knew. Your friend told me everything. He wanted me to invite you along.”

Forget that your friend orchestrated the whole ordeal. It’s the fact that he wants you to join him in a threesome. You expected him to be greedy with the rare opportunity to have a beautiful idol all to himself, but instead, he’s somehow still involving you in the action. There’s a lot to take in, and you don’t exactly know where to start.

“Is this even allowed?” you ask, unsure of your place in this room. You’re slowly soaking up the scenery; none of it makes any sense. Scattered on the bedroom floor is Your friend’s shirt and his bag, freebies and personal belongings alike,, while Shiah casually saunters around the mattress, gradually removing pieces of jewelry from herself and placing them on the nightstand.

“Of course, dude!” says your friend. His energy hasn’t waned in the slightest. You’re amazed his voice hasn’t changed at all, let alone his ability to speak. He had been screaming beside you for the entirety of the show, you’d probably go deaf because of him if not for your earplugs. “I wouldn’t have asked her if she wasn’t allowed to, or if she didn’t feel it.”

“He’s right,” adds Shiah, unbuttoning her jeans. Looking at her again, she grabs your attention with the casual stripping of her pants, pooled around her ankles, leaving only pale colored panties that leave nothing to the imagination. “Plus, I haven’t tried having a threesome before, and tonight seemed like a good idea to try that.”

Surely, you’ve heard weird things before, but none were as out of pocket as this.

“C’mere dude,” says your friend, gesturing to you to take the spot beside him on the bed. “We’re going to fuck an idol tonight. And not just any idol, my freaking bias!”

Your eyes continue to linger on her. Shiah, now undoing her top, candidly tossing them aside. The one time you regret not having your phone on hand to capture without obstruction. Her tits are bite-sized handfuls, nipples firm and on full display, and her figure is so paper thin, you’ll break her when you hold her by her ridiculous proportions. The only thing missing is some fragile warning label plastered on her skin as a reminder to handle her with care.

This is the most awkward you’ve been with your friend since you first met, when he first moved into your dorm. Seated on the mattress, you’re anxious of what’s about to happen. You worry she won’t be able to handle you two; he worries that he won’t be able to ruin her to the fullest extent.

She meets you at the center in nothing but panties. She scans you both from head to toe, and notices your contrasting expressions. Facing you, she says, “Hey. I wouldn’t do this if I wasn’t confident about the idea. If you don’t make me unable to walk after tonight, I’m gonna be quite disappointed. So chin up.”

Reassuring of a tone it may sound, it doesn’t ease your worry even a little. It doesn’t discourage her either; it’s part of the challenge.

She drops to her knees, and that’s when you come around on the idea. Her fingers make work of your pants; yours first, then your friend’s. With eagerness written on her face, your hard cocks hang between her tiny face. Pausing, undecided, she takes a moment to think which one to satisfy. The way she eyes both yours, then your friend’s—you can tell how hungry she is: how she wants them shoved inside her mouth, down her throat, taking all that delicious load. If she could fit both at once, she certainly would.

“Which one should I take first, boys?” she asks, innocuous sounding, her doll-like eyes pleading up with a playful pout. Knowing full well she already has this whole thing already planned out. You and your friend swallow hard, telepathically aligned, thinking of the same idea, based on the rather silent response.

Shiah has your eyes fluttering, hands already gripped to the edge of the bed, lips letting out a string of delightful moans. It sounds like relief, agony, and ecstasy all at once. She’s leaving soft kisses on your tip, her tongue running circling around your length, and her fingers slowly pumping at your base. All your doubts and hesitations, gone in an instant. The very few glimpses you catch of her, her eyes speak to you, staring, telling you to take it all in.

She feels so good, handles you deftly, as if she’s already acquainted with your cock, even though it’s the first time. Pushing all the sensitive, perfect spots and getting you into a steady rhythm.

“See? I told you it was gonna be—fine—fuck—”

Your friend folds just as quickly as you do, if not faster. His words, instantly reduced to echoed grunts, groans, and curses, his hand palming Shiah’s scalp. She’s focused, taking turns with each cock, kissing and teasing you both with the prospect of shoving it down her needy, thirsty throat. One hand on your dick and the other on his, stroking you at near-synchronized tempo, then vice versa. You wonder exactly why she’s even hesitant and nervous about taking two at once when she’s clearly a natural at satisfying cocks.

She’s well aware that she has only one mouth to fulfill her craving for cock. There’s a look of regret every time she stops sucking one cock in place of the other. It’s almost as if she’s failing, even though the pleasure-ridden expressions on your faces say otherwise. “I hope this is good enough,” she frowns, taking a moment to plant another direct kiss on each cockhead. “I wish I could fit you both in my mouth, but I—”

“Shhh.” Your friend interjects, tugging harshly at Shiah’s dark locks, then rubbing his hand around her forehead. “You’re doing so fucking well, so much better than we hoped—”

Suddenly, he finds himself slowly crumbling. Precum coating around her dainty fingers, while he loses grip on his consciousness, lying flat on the bed. If there’s anything you’ve learned in the very short time you’ve had Shiah on her knees, it’s that she’s particularly gentle. You can feel she’s not going to ruin you instantly and that she’s nowhere close to crushing your cock, unlike some of the girls you’ve known in the past.

This is all new to your friend, after all. It shouldn’t be surprising.

Still, she continues to pleasure you both, taking a moment to slip his erection inside her throat, slurping and swallowing his cock whole. Her eyes instantly slam shut, mumbling a songful hum, finally soaking in the taste after intentionally restraining herself from her lust. Turning to your side, your friend clearly can’t take her; his mouth agape, his chest heaving, breathing heavily, his eyes widely staring at the ceiling in a useless effort to distract himself. In his mind, she’s relentless, overwhelming, cruel.

Her eyes slide in your direction, brows furrowed, apologetic. You shake your head, smile lightly, perfectly understanding of the situation. It’s not that she’s ignoring you; her other hand’s pressing on the base of your cock, down to the underside, pressing on your balls. She’s already left her mark on you even though she’s doing the bare minimum. The layer of precum on her fingers is clear proof. That should be more than enough.

And when you find your friend completely unresponsive, breathing through his mouth, you tilt your head at an angle and make this poor sleeping impression—something he hasn’t had in over 24 hours. It’s the command that causes Shiah to slip his cock from her mouth with a silent pop, his dick throbbing with her spit dripping from the tip. Her focus turns over to you; her eyes meeting yours, her hands pressing on each knee, and your fingers brushing loose strands of hair aside to see her pretty face, flushed but flawless. It’s now just down to you two.

She gives your head a playful swirl, and you lift your brows in approval, subtly biting at the lip to show her you like it. Her eyes lock in, scanning through each subdued wince, waiting for the go ahead.

It’s the slightest head motion that nearly ends you. You’re uncertain if you even said yes or no.

Shiah looks so much better with your cock in her mouth than anyone else’s. She knows, too. You pause to take the sight in—your length buried deep in her mouth, occasionally poking her throat, her cheeks hollow, her eyes looking wide at you with a fiery glint, begging you to take her, use her, ruin her. You’re perfectly positioned to work her; your hand is palming the back of her head, giving her this assertive stare that appears demeaning, but you can tell she prefers to be seen that way. It would be criminal to have her on her knees and not have your way with her.

And you do just that.

You hold her still, using the little increments of strength to motion her into a bobbing motion. She surrenders herself into your control, moving her head back and forth with the grip of your hand. Like the swing of a pendulum, you watch your base disappear and appear between her lips. You’re nowhere close to burying yourself entirely in her mouth, but she feels so incredible, so intoxicating, she may as well be deepthroating you.

It’s not the firmness of her luscious lips kissing your cock nor her lewd expressions that shake you, but her suction. She hums this wistful note while sucking your cock—a song of satisfaction. In contrast to the steady rhythm you’re attempting to impose, she drags your length along her tongue, forcing you into this playful tug-of-war whenever you draw your cock back, directing where your cum should land. She envisions it: the notion of your hot load collected on her cheeks. Her fingers point where she wants them, using her pleading eyes and brows to entice you.

And you’re not going to deny her request. She’s too charming and expressive to turn down. Even more so when your cock is lodged between her lips.

You utter this particularly incomprehensible mix of a groan and a grumble while your throbbing cock unloads the warm cum she desires. Without wasting a single drop, she takes it all, puffing her cheeks with your seed while carefully pulling your cock out her mouth. Your hand is no longer resting on her head but rather around her shoulder and collarbones. She plays with the load in her mouth, gargling, swishing, before swallowing it all. Afterward, she sticks out her silky tongue, face completely flustered, showing you the aftermath: leftovers of your cum painting her mouth.

“God, Yoo—I mean, Shiah—” you breathe, lightly falling back on the bed as your legs go numb. Your flaccid cock isn’t enough to show how much she’s drained you in one fell swoop. “How are you so—”

“I told you I wouldn’t be doing this if I wasn’t so confident about it,” she remarks, rising to her feet before pushing you down on the sheets, straddling herself on your lap. Her energy remains steadfast. It’s infectious. Winking and pouting, she adds, “Now fuck me till I can’t walk.”

You’re completely sold on the idea, but you can’t do it alone.

Pushing Shiah off you, you shake your friend back into consciousness. You’re holding her by the shoulders, giving her lips a quick kiss. A soft gesture telling her to be a tad patient. Her eyes clue you in; she’s dying to be fucked, to be used, to be ruined. Your friend looks around, feeling hazy, completely unaware of what transpired, even though it’s only been less than 10 minutes.

“What’d I miss?” he asks, still trying to make sense of things. The last thing he remembers is Shiah on her knees. Now he sees you and his bias in each other’s embrace. Surprisingly, he’s not fazed in the slightest. The bed’s tremors—rumblings—are good enough indicators.

You’re unable to completely look him in the eye, and you don’t know what to answer, so she does it for you: “Your friend blew a nice load inside my mouth. We were just about to have round two. Join us.”

To her amusement, the reply has you staring at her utterly gobsmacked. It’s not the fact that she’s telling it straight, with zero sugarcoating, but her candid, conversational delivery and deadpan expression, as if they’re close friends catching up on lost time. He doesn’t seem bothered, nor does he ask any further questions. Knowing him, he’d be disappointed if you didn’t.

Really, what’s there to question when given an opportunity to fuck an idol without any conditions or red tape. He’s not making the most of the moment as you have, and the hurried jump off the bed to take position behind her indicates he’s not going to waste any more time. You’re scared you might get into a confrontation over how you’ll take her.

“Say the word and I’ll move aside,” you tell him, calmly.

“Let me have her tight ass,” is the reply, straightforward. Chalk it up to tension, but there’s a hint of harshness in his voice, as though some bitterness is leaking. He subtly pulls her away from your side, prompting you to let him take full control.

You aren’t surprised at where he ends up taking her. The bed is the comfiest option, but in his mind, the safest and the most cliche. A shower to ease the tension and stress in the muscles—that’s a good one too, on top of having her possibly pressed against the panels and the idea of soaping her tits while fucking her in the wet. This luxurious suite, which feels like walking from the one end of a parking lot to the other on weary legs, has a handful of mirrors to watch her get railed on. None are as captivating and inviting as the biggest one—the large glass windows that overlook the city, lit up by lights from nearby skylines and the illumination from the living room.

He presses her tiny frame against the window, then on air, giving her tiny butt a firm slap. Followed by another. Something about Shiah with her back arched, yelping with each spank, arouses him. Her too. She whines, biting on her lip, hands trying to latch to anything. There’s plenty to claim—from her bite-sized chest, to her slinky waist, to her soiled panties. Something he slips down to her ankles.

In the moment, your friend doesn’t acknowledge you. He’s all up in her hair, licking the shell of ear, a set of clenched digits digging into her warmth. Her eyes fluttering, she whines, pressing a hand around his waist, mumbling, begging, “Fuck me, please, fuck me.”

You can tell she’s apologetic, wants to be punished and manhandled like a naughty girl. Your friend has this glare in his eyes—a look of hunger. His fingers pump away at her core, without care for pace or comfort, just the satisfaction of hearing her cries and the need for her to cum. Bumping her against the window, he’s kissing her, claiming her as his own. Red marks form everywhere on her neck, collarbones, and back. Her entire body. All his.

You let him. You watch. Not out of guilt, not out of arousal. It’s his moment.

He looks over his shoulder and finds you just watching. “C’mere,” he growls between muted groans, tone low. It should be awkward (it is) but all that tension disappeared the moment she got on her knees. Approaching the twosome in such a strange fashion, he continues to finger Shiah, shifting her away from the window, binding her from behind by one hand. He’s suppressing his tongue, teasing his cockhead against the entrance of her pussy, barely able to restrain himself.

When you’re in front of her again, you’re greeted by a hot mess. Her juices are dripping down her thighs, pooling around her feet. His coated fingers line around her warmth, around her tight hole. His lust is on full display, cussing out a storm about how incredibly wet and tight she is while she prepares herself to get fucked into oblivion. It’s not the first time you’ve heard him say these things; he talks a loud talk about how he’d fuck his biases in explicit detail, writes particularly concerning essays about the positions they’d be railed in, how they would cum, and how many times he would make them cum.

At the end of the day, it was none of your business.

And ultimately, he might have been onto something.

You let out this loud unsuppressed moan burying yourself inside her tight cunt. She’s suffocating, overwhelmingly tight—the kind of heat that can make you cum almost immediately. You’re still recovering from your first orgasm, putting you on the backfoot. Still, her walls are too inviting not to get hard again. Meanwhile, your friend, who’s been eager to fuck Shiah’s ass for the longest time, is in no rush. His cock is barely entering her tight hole, slowly easing himself inside her with deep breaths. He’s grabbing a handful of her flesh, openly moaning and grunting taking her.

“F-fuck, Yoo—” he mutters, grabbing at her petite cheeks with an ironclad grip. Pulling her closer to his body so his cock can split her in half. He’s growing greedy—and desperate.

Everything you’re doing to Shiah can be seen in the window’s reflection: you pounding into her tight cunt, your friend’s cock spearing her from behind, her body practically sandwiched between your twosome. The combined weight is more than capable of crushing her slim frame, her skin like tire marks on both your chests. Neither of you move with an understanding of working as a team, and it shows; your collective strokes are unsteady, erratic, chaotic.

This isn’t good for your back—at all. Shiah’s bent forward in part to your friend’s slow, deep thrusts into her delicious ass, rippling with each stroke. She’s clutching to your shoulders for support, screaming from the absolute depths of her lungs getting doubled up. The uncomfortable position is mostly clouded by the overwhelming sensation of your cocks tag teaming on her two sensitive holes. You’re leaning, steadily falling back. That inescapable warmth—that intoxicating heat—keeps you coming back for more, friction be damned.

God, Shiah’s pussy is so fucking perfect.

And that’s what you end up muttering. In an endless choir of ecstasy-charged moans, profanities, and wet sloppy slaps of skin against skin, you throw those words out to the wind. So good, so tight—those doubts you had entering the room, now just thoughts from yesterday. She’s everything you want in a satisfying fuck; your hands intertwined with her waist, rocking her frame with every plunge, savoring each entry into that needy womb.

It’s no surprise then that she cums so soon.

It’s been slowly building to this moment. The signs were there all along; the blink and you’ll miss it patch on her jeans, the phallic object in her purse, the wet puddle forming on her panties, the not so subtle gestures she’s giving fans between performances—she’s been desperate to cum on a cock and her wish can finally be granted.

In dramatic fashion, she’s all over you. Clinging to you like her lifeline, showing you how you’ve ruined her. Body trembling, legs quaking—the ripples send shockwaves through your body, also in the process of falling apart. Throwing out her hips, a new layer of juices coat both cocks, dripping to the floor. You’re there to break her fall, but you have nothing to stop yours.

Passing through deaf ears, her screams revert to soft pleas. “Cum, cum in me—please—fuck—” she whines in bursts, riding out her climax in waves, waiting for you two to join her over the edge. You’re preoccupied with the raging fire in your loins, restraining your urge to release your seed inside her needy cunt prematurely. At this point, you’re almost done, holding onto the last of your resolve not to spurt right then and there. The layer of her slick coating your cock doesn’t do you any favors, either.

Propping her body straight, your thrusts remain relentless. Steadied pace, at your own will, rocking her senseless—that’s how you want to finish inside her. You want to keep her in that position: cupping her tiny chest, wrapping an arm on the neck, resting a hand on your light shoulder. Shiah’s body is the perfect plaything.

All of that is too good to be true.

“Cumming, gonna cum—” you mutter, rather ashamedly, though you’re holding up better than anyone ever expected, especially after already orgasming once. You press her to your friend, almost a flat out shove. The line couldn’t be any thinner. “Shit—”

Your legs are on the cusp of crumbling, but at least they’re generous enough to let you savor this moment. Spilling your pent up need, you fuck that remaining cum into her. It’s fulfilling, euphoric. All the proof is down there, dripping between her legs and on your cock. The sight of her splayed, wrecked hole, oozing with seed, tempting you to stick a thumb around her slick core. She squirms at your sensitive touches, still needy and in want.

Only after the orgasm does your vision clear again. It’s an amusing scene; your friend is still pounding into Shiah’s tight ass at a feverish pace. Last one in, last one out—at least you think, that’s how the saying goes, until he lets out this guttural groan, indicating he’s reached his own climax too. If not for the setting, it’s an accomplishment worth cheering, the kind that’s worth a celebration of a life milestone. Cocks buried to the hilt, the sight of her holes spilling seed never grows old.

At least you both can agree on one thing: staying inside the welcoming warmth that is Shiah’s heat. Neither of you want to leave, even when you regain mobility in your legs.

You’ve got the rest of the night to ruin her, leave her room hobbling or crawling on her feet. Your friend has a bucket list of positions to fuck her in, so it’s the least of your worries. Besides, both of them know you have no intention of leaving. And in the middle of this non-existent conundrum, while your friend is leaving soft kisses all over her back as a victory lap, she takes a moment to glance at you both. Noticing the similarity of smiles on your faces and your supportive nature towards your friend, she’s reminded of something she shares with her members, apart from the fact they’re getting railed at this very moment:

True friendship.

—————

(A/N: Expect a bit more crowdedness aka more-somes over the next few fics. I also haven't written an Oh My Girl member since Arin in over a year, so that's one off the list! This one took a while, had a whole other story involving roadtrips and hitchhiking, which I ultimately scrapped. Thank you for reading!)

(P.S. If you want to have your own story/idol written, you can ask for a commission :D)

#smut #kpop smut #oh my girl #yooa

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lixzey · 7 months

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ᴡᴇʟᴄᴏᴍᴇ, ʟᴏᴠᴇʀ ᴏꜰ ᴍɪɴᴇ ᡣ𐭩

𝙰𝙱𝙾𝚄𝚃 𝙼𝙴 જ⁀➴

hi, my name's ellie and welcome to my blog!

i just started writing on this platform last september 2023. i've been writing fics since i was twelve (yes, it was cringe) on wattpad. i would love to read your feedback, or be friends! my inbox is always open for anything 🫶🏻

anyway, here's some lil facts about me:

i'm 21 years old • she/her • filo-canadian • enfp • libra baby • mother of a four year old girl • a gryffindor child of aphrodite and legacy of apollo and athena • has adhd and wears glasses • has photographic memory • loves writing (obvi), music, and reading

- i live in the philippines, so pls bear with me. i try to be awake the whole night so i can post when most of my followers are awake

- as i've mentioned, i am a mother to a four year old. so when i get delays in posting, blame her (lol pls don't blame my kid)

- pls don't be rude to me :( i cry at the simplest things :( so hate will definitely be deleted.

xoxo, el 💘

𝐂𝐔𝐑𝐑𝐄𝐍𝐓 𝐇𝐘𝐏𝐄𝐑𝐅𝐈𝐗𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍

╰┈➤ CHARLIE BUSHNELL

╰┈➤ LUKE CASTELLAN

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ divider by @saradika-graphics

𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓

‼️All of my works are purely fictional and are intended for entertainment only. I do have a wattpad account of the same username (lixzey_), but I haven't posted anything that I have written there aside from one. Please do not repost any of my works on any other site. ‼️

TIMOTHÉE CHALAMET `✦ ˑ ִֶָ 𓂃⊹

The Story of Us - In which you are Timothée Chalamet's high school sweetheart. After a messy break up ten years ago, Timothée is Hollywood's it boy, while you are a rising star. The two of you will star in a new movie, what could possibly go wrong?

Letters - One day Timothée receives a package from someone unknown: a basket of eighteen letters. Letters from a girl named y/n. A mysterious fan who poured her heart out in her letters and is trying to fix herself. As Timothée begins to read, and the letters begin to run out, he finds himself falling for this girl.

Until one day he stopped reading.

Because she stopped writing.

Can't Help Falling In Love - In which two strangers accidentally get married.

Forever Yours

Heart to Heart

My Girl

The Girl With Hair Longer Than Rapunzel

24 Hours

Paradise

Bride for Rent

The Unknown Number

Bad idea, right?

Catching Feelings

Over and Over Again

Angel Eyes

Risk It All

TIMOTHÉE'S CHARACTERS `✦ ˑ ִֶָ 𓂃⊹

Foolish Ones - Theodore Laurence

Crazy Little Thing Called Love - Wonka

Choices - Paul Atreides

Against All Odds - Hal [The King, 2019]

STAND ALONE `✦ ˑ ִֶָ 𓂃⊹

• Rising Star

• Daddy's Angels

• More Than Words 🔥

THE MARAUDERS `✦ ˑ ִֶָ 𓂃⊹

James Potter

• Almost A Love Story

• Must Be Love

• To All The Boys I've Loved Before

• Once Upon A December

• Me Before You

Regulus Black

• Monster Among Men

• To The Moon and Back

• Protego Maxima

• Forever and Always

Remus Lupin

• Professor, Professor

• Head Over Heels

• Seven Minutes to Forever

• Timeless

Sirius Black

• Golden

• The Name of The Game

• If Only

• Safe and Sound

PERCY JACKSON AND THE OLYMPIANS `✦ ˑ ִֶָ 𓂃⊹

Luke Castellan

• Serendipity

• Sincerely, yours

• Lovelorn

• Late night cravings

#timothée chalamet x reader #timothee chalamet x reader #james potter x reader #sirius black x reader #remus lupin x reader #regulus black x reader #luke castellan #luke castellan x reader #ellie's masterlist #ellie's works 💘#el's writing ✨

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cherryredstars · 4 months

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Pairing: Miguel O'Hara, Simon "Ghost" Riley, Mike Schmidt, Hobie Brown, Miles-42 x gn!reader

Warnings: Fluff, Suggestive Content with Miguel, A Little Bit of Angst with Miles

Summary: How would the boys treat you on your birthday?

A/N: In honor of my birthday (WOO)!

Word Count: 1.7K (Unedited)

Miguel O'Hara

You hang out with him in his office at HQ all day. He has your favorite food delivered to base, and you spend the whole day talking his ear off as he works. Today is the only day he doesn't mind people coming in and out of his office, as long as they do so to wish you a happy birthday.

He has LYLA keep you company, finding her only a tad bit less annoying, even as she randomly breaks out into happy birthday and makes birthday memes pop up on his screen like a virus. He only wants to strangle her when she keeps making birthday sex jokes and hinting a little too much at the gifts waiting for you at home.

When the two of you do make it home, you're excited to see the pile of gifts overflowing in the living room. Some of them are from the spiders in HQ, but more than one is from Miguel. You guys get take out, and spend the rest of the night opening gifts. You guys laugh at the ones from the younger spider-people, and try not to cringe at the more questionable ones (a difference in universe maybe?).

When the two of you finish going through the gifts and ate all the food, Miguel pulls you up off the floor. He gives you a cheeky smile, leading you towards the bedroom for one last birthday present. Huh, I guess LYLA was right about the birthday sex.

Simon "Ghost" Riley

As much as he wants to, he can't ask to go on leave in advance. Even if he did send in the request, it would be hastily denied. Going on leave because of a singular day and for a non-emergency cause? The higher ups would laugh in his face. So, his only hope is to not be deployed during that time.

If he is deployed during that time, he'll keep his eye on the clock, counting down the seconds until it hits midnight in your timezone. Then, at exactly zero hundred hours, your phone will light up with a message from Simon. It's a simple "Happy birthday. Miss you." text, but it makes you smile nonetheless. If you're lucky, you might get a voice message from all of 141 wishing you a happy birthday, horrible, off-key singing from Soap included! And if you're really lucky, you might even get a call if Simon's in a good, secure location where he knows his cellular usage can't be tracked or intercepted.

He already got a gift for you in advance. He'll tell you where he hid it, or tell you to keep an ear out for the doorbell. If he hid it, you rush over to the hiding spot, setting your phone up to record a video for him. You make a big show of it to keep him entertained, and at the end of the video you thank him repeatedly for the gift, adding in that you miss him and you'll see him when he comes back home. When he gets gifts delivered to you, it's usually flowers and maybe something extra like an Amazon package. You put your new flowers in the nicest vase you have, sending Simon a picture and heart emojis.

If-by the grace of god- he's home on your birthday, you get spoiled silly. Today is all about you and what you want to do. Breakfast in bed? Okay, waffles or pancakes? Movie night? Okay, it's your pick. Drinks at the pub? Let's stop to get a pack first. Simon does prefer to stay in with you on your birthday, but again, if you want to have a night out on the town, he's happy to follow along. Though, if you do stay home, don't look in the fridge! You don't want to risk taking a peak at the cake he bought, do you?

Mike Schmidt

Called out of work the day before. He wakes up super early, slipping out of bed to wake up Abby. She complains a little, and you have to pretend you weren't awake the second Mike got out of bed and you have to stifle your laughter at her grumbling out in the hall. The smell of breakfast is strong, and you wait a good 11 minutes (it would be too perfect if it was an even number), before slipping out of bed. You act all surprised when you walk into the kitchen, catching them making you breakfast. They instantly drag you into a chair, making you sit as they plate your food and slide over your coffee. You have to fight your tears when Abby gives you a hand drawn birthday card. Just for that, she can steal a bit of your bacon.

The three of you just spend the day at home. You draw with Abby, thanking her for all the birthday drawings. The three of you make a mess in the kitchen as you make the birthday cake, and somehow frosting gets stuck in all of your hair. You sing happy birthday after dinner, which of course is your favorite meal, and the three of you settle onto the couch to watch TV. You allow Abby to stay up until she falls asleep on the sofa.

Once she's gone to bed, Mike pulls you close to his side, pressing a kiss to your lips and muttering another happy birthday. You smile at him, and it grows wider when he pulls your gift from his pocket. The two of you are silent as you open it, and you gasp when you see what's inside. You thank him with a million smooches on his face, that makes him chuckle. Then, when it gets too late and the both of you remember he has work tomorrow, you retreat back to the bedroom for some much needed rest. Clean up is for another day.

Hobie Brown

Is it really a surprise that he forgets it's your birthday? Hey, in his defense, time and dates are just a social construct made to control the natural world!

He only remembers when one of his (current) band mates or a Spider in the society ask him what he has planned for your birthday. He knows he's fucked the second they ask him. He has nothing planned, he has yet to say happy birthday to you despite talking to you just this morning, and to top it all off, he has only just realized you were hinting about it throughout your morning conversation. And do you want to know what he said in response to your, Hobie, baby, do you think something important is happening today? Trust me, you don't because his answer may or may not have been, Unless 10 Downing is fist bumping a wrecking ball today, then no. Yeah, did he mention he was fucked?

So, in true Hobie fashion, he's gonna think quick and get himself out of trouble. What could he use as the perfect excuse for completely forgetting your birthday? Make it seem intentional! And how do you make it seem intentional? Throwing a totally killer surprise party that would give the PM a heart attack! He recruits the help of his band mates and Gwen, setting up your favorite venue that the band played in for a previous gig. He gets you a cake, a funny card, and some random trinkets he sees along the way. He'll have the band play anything you request or the night. Oh, don't forget your own friends! He'll let them know before he picks you up.

He's totally casual when he returns to the flat, all nonchalant as he tells you to get dressed up. When you ask why, he just shrugs and says riot. You stare at him like you expect him to say something extra, but you sigh when he doesn't. With your back turned to him, he allows himself to briefly flicker red. When he gets you to the venue, you're happily surprised, bumping into him and teasing that you thought he forgot. He chuckles nervously in response, finally wishing you a happy birthday. At the end of the night, after you got the celebration you deserved and the two of you lay at home in a half-awake state, he admits the truth to you when you're too sleepy to get mad at him. Hey, real men admit to their mistakes and fear the wrath of their partners.

Miles 42

He does the thing. You know, the obnoxious thing where you show up to school, and then suddenly you have a brightly colored birthday stash over your shoulder and a gift bag attached to 50 different HAPPY BIRTHDAY balloons? Yeah, he does that shit, and he does it with PRIDE. He will be damned if you aren't walking the halls and a stranger randomly yells out a birthday greeting to you in passing. You better hope you don't have any classes with him, because every class you guys share, he's making them sing happy birthday. Even if you get embarrassed and melt into your chair. At lunch, he's already got a birthday cupcake waiting for you and he did, in fact, skip the last period just so he could go get your favorite takeout to make sure it's still hot.

Rio definitely invited you over for dinner, and he spends the whole meal telling his Ma all about the things he did for you today. It makes her laugh, and she playfully swats the back of his head when you whine about how embarrassed you were all day.

When dinner is done, Miles drags you out of his house and walks you down to the familiar streets to the car lot. He helps you in, and you gasp when you see the inside of the car. He has candles placed carefully around, and a cake sits in the back seat with plastic forks and more gifts. Your smile is goofy as he quietly sings happy birthday to you, and you blow out the candle as he whoops and hollers playfully. The two of you dig into the cake, having quiet conversation until you feel like you'll throw up from all the sugar.

But as you're about to open the last of your gifts, his phone begins to ring. Looks like your birthday wish didn’t come true after all.

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lewdangelsou · 9 months

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cats don't speak

sypnosis || scaramouche ordered some gifts for his lover to try out.

warnings: lower case intentional, mean scaramouche, afab gn! reader (using she/her), filming, fingers down your throat, saliva/spit/drool, choking, dacryphilia, mention of butt plug, heavy degrading, sprinkle of praise. getting called kitty. humiliation.

minors dni

·˚ ༘ not proofread hehe

the pads of his fingers caress the texture of the leather that wrap around her neck, the bell dangling with soft dings. scaramouche smirks, gazing down at herㅡ on her knees on the floor, looking up at him through those pretty long lashes with a hint of shame within her eyes.

"see? it's perfect." his smile was condescending, a type of malice that made her heart pound against her ribcage. scaramouche traces the artificial ears that clipped to her soft hair, he's starting to treat her just like a small pet; delicate and needy.

his lover puckers her lips into a slight pout, the plug nestled deep into that tight cavern of her rear, an uncomfortable yet sensational feeling, the fluffy tail resting in between her thighs. "it feels weird..." she confesses, resting her cheek upon the rough denim of his lap.

the entire ordeal of getting dragged to his bedroom with a nicely wrapped package on his sheets piqued her curiosity greatly, only to reveal that they're merely toys for his entertainment. for his model, his muse, his loverㅡ she's the perfect candidate for his sore eyes. scaramouche doesn't listen to her complaints in the beginning, her sentences falling to deaf ears as each article of clothing strips off of her body just for this act of power.

he tips her head back, "i don't understand you, kitty" a derisive grin spread across his handsome face, causing her very core to tighten from the voltage of adrenaline.

"come on, meow for the camera."

a thick clump of saliva dries her throat as she swallows, a whole weight of shame lay heavy within her head as her pupils gloss towards the camera. she hesitates, ".. me.. mew..?"

despite her best attempt, scaramouche isn't pleased. he pulls at her bottom lip to part them, eyeing the pink interior of her mouth as strings of saliva thread loosely. "i know you look so pathetic but at least try."

".. scaramouche, come onㅡ"

her eyes gape immediately at the flavorless taste of his fingers pushing past her teeth, pressing down on her tongue to silence her protests. as if on an instant, she clicked right back to her place, kneeling before the man who has spoiled her with his morbid affection.

"if you can't meow, why not lick, hm?"

he drags his fingers across the surface of her pink tongue, gently moving in and out of her mouth, suggesting that she puts in the effort for him. through her muddled vision she submits, suckling on his fingers until a rhythm builds that satisfies them both. with each bob of her her head, the bell attached to her collar jingles, only adding to the throb that aches scaramouche's cock.

his indigo eyes watching every detail of the way her pretty lips wrap around his middle and ring finger, glazing them with spit each time she parts from it for a single second before drawing in once more. he groans, voice mixing with the followed slurping noise of her continuous sucking.

"hah.. finally, something you're good for."

her heart quelled, urging herself to go faster, deeper. thus, scaramouche muses at the way she gags at the tips of his digits hitting the back of her throat, feeling his dull nails hit the flesh. tears form to sear her vision and pearl down her flushed cheeks, the thickened tension between them making it difficult to breathe. and through all of this, she doesn't take her eyes away from the lenses of scaramouche's phone as he fails to keep it steady.

she even puts on a show, opening her mouth enough to swirl her tongue around his fingers like an obedient pet, before shoving them deep down her throat once more. drool dribbles down her chin and dripping down to the surface of her cleavage, adding to the pornographic-like feel that is presented to him.

"fuck that's it."

#genshin smut #scaramouche x you #scaramouche x reader #scaramouche #scaramouche smut

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vaguelyvoid · 6 months

Text

Sweet Like Candy | kth

Pairing: Taehyung x fem reader

Genre: smut, established relationship, non-idol au

Rated: 18+

Summary: Taehyung is so excited to try miracle berries after he orders them because they supposedly make everything taste sweet, so he decides to test that theory on you as well.

Warnings: explicit language, descriptive sex, dom Tae/sub reader, food playish, oral fixation, oral sex (m&f receiving) , unprotected sex (DONT), praise, hella dirty talk, edging, cum eating

Word Count: ~3K

The door to your apartment swings open and Taehyung comes running inside.

“They came! They came!” He squeals and you look over at him. He’s holding a small package in his hand and is smiling from ear to ear. You don’t know what this could be, but he looks so cute all excited like this.

“What came?” You ask and start walking toward him where he’s grabbing the kitchen scissors to cut the package open.

“I ordered miracle berries from Amazon, and we have to try them right now!” His fluffy black hair falls into his eyes while he’s struggling to open the box from his franticness. Ugh he’s so adorable.

“Whoa, slow down! What are miracle berries?” The name sounds kinda cliché to you, but he seems to be really excited about them. He manages to get the box open, and he pulls out a small jar with about 15 dried berries inside.

“They’re these berries that supposedly when you eat them, everything for the next 30ish minutes taste sweet, no matter what it is! Could be lemons, sour candy, pickles even- and there’s no sourness!”

How does that even work? It can’t be true, right?

“It’s not drugs... is it?” You ask. Taehyung laughs at you and shakes his head.

“Perfectly legal.” He says with a smile on his face.

“I even ordered a bunch of food I wanted to try with it! This is gonna be so cool!” You giggle at his excitement. Seriously, this grown adult man is acting like a little kid in a candy store and you could not stop your heart from swelling at his cuteness.

He starts pulling stuff out of the refrigerator including lemons, cream cheese...? and apple cider vinegar.

“Vinegar?” You exclaim in disgust.

“It’ll taste like juice or something, I promise.” He hurriedly rushes into the pantry to grab some sour patch kids and sour skittles.

“Ok! I got everything we need, but we gotta try these.” You giggle again at his franticness for these berries. There’s no way it’s gonna work but you just want to entertain his excitement, so you agree.

He instructs you to eat the berry, but to make sure you coat your whole mouth with the fruit. It kinda tastes like a dried cranberry, a little bitter but he insists that ‘it’s so good’ which makes you laugh.

“Do we need to wait to let it kick in or something?” You question. He just chuckles and looks you in the eyes,

“I said it wasn’t drugs, Y/n. Let’s try the lemon first.” He cuts the lemon in half and gives one half to you. Holding the lemon close to your face, you can smell the sourness of it and your mouth waters at the thought of eating it.

“Okay on the count of three, One, two, three!” He says and you both suck at the lemon. Your face cringes in anticipation, but all you taste when the juice hits your tongue is sugary sweet lemon juice. You look at Taehyung and both of your eyes widen.

“No wayyy! It’s so sweet!” He shouts and you gawk at him.

“It tastes like lemonade, oh my god!” You are even more shocked than him but both of you continue to suck on the juice of the lemon, the taste is addicting.

“Ok we gotta do the cream cheese next.” He says, and you give him a questioning look.

“What is it gonna do to cream cheese?” You ask and he prepares spoonful’s for the both of you.

“Just try.” He says and you bring the spoon to your mouth. Oh my god. It tastes just like cheesecake.

“This is so trippy!” You exclaim and he hits the countertop with his hand in laughter.

“I told you! Here, try a sour patch.” He grabs a blue one, your favorite flavor, and feeds it to you. It tastes just like a gummy coated in sugar now, no sourness at all. You can’t control a little moan that comes out of your mouth, and he smirks down at you.

“Taste good?” He asks and you nod at him, while he puts a yellow one in his mouth.

He bites his lip, and he looks at you up and down with just his eyes, “Hm I wonder if it really makes everything taste sweet.” Knowing exactly what he means, your heart skips a beat, and a breath gets caught in your throat from his hungry stare.

He starts to walk toward you and grabs another sour patch kid, placing it in his mouth halfway. You’re caged in between him and the kitchen island and he leans down toward your lips. Following his lead, you get on your tiptoes to meet his lips and slowly bite the other half of the candy from his mouth.

Once the candy is in your mouth, Taehyung connects your lips in an open mouth kiss. The taste of your mouths and the sweetness of the candy in between your lips is overwhelming. His kisses take your breath away and when he pulls away you are gasping. He grazes a hand down your torso and slips it underneath your shirt to touch the skin of your side. Both of you swallow the piece of candy in your mouth and goosebumps appear on your skin from his touch and stare.

“If your mouth tastes that good, I can’t imagine what your pussy is gonna taste like.” He mutters and you whimper. He presses you harder into the counter and you can feel the outline of his cock against your stomach, not fully hard yet but it makes your heart skip.

Your hands instinctively grab at his shirt collar when he kisses you and he is frantic with his kisses. Swallowing up your little pants and moans that escape your mouth. His mouth is sweet despite the candy being eaten. Is this what miracle berries make his mouth taste like? It’s heaven.

Taehyung is usually softer with his kisses but right now he’s kissing you with so much passion and love. His tongue explores your mouth, and you suckle on the tip of his sweet tongue. His grip around your torso moves down to your ass, which he squeezes before lifting you onto the kitchen island counter.

“Lean back for me, baby.” He says and you giggle as you lay back onto the counter, elbows holding you up to see him fumbling with your jean zipper. He looks a little too eager.

Once he manages to take your jeans off, he starts kissing your stomach, pushing your shirt up to palm your breasts. His fluffy hair tickling the top of your stomach as he trails his kisses downwards under your belly button. The feeling of his kisses and hands on you, combined with his eagerness and pretty face is enough to make your stomach flutter; feeling yourself getting turned on.

“Lemme see my beautiful girl.” He purrs and you open your legs up for him after he takes your panties off. You used to be embarrassed. Not really of your body but having a man this close to your open legs is a little scary. But Taehyung makes you feel no shame because you can see him staring hungrily at your wet folds. His eyes turn a shade darker when he uses his index and middle finger to collect your wetness on his fingers, brushing your clit in the process.

You let out a little squeak and he licks his lips before enveloping his fingers into his mouth. For some reason this seems more erotic than just going down on you and this visual makes your stomach flip. Taehyung’s eyes widen and he looks up at you.

“Y/n you always taste good, but this is insane. I don’t think I’ll be able to stop.” You giggle at him, but you are immediately shut up when he places his face where you want him the most. His skilled tongue parts your folds and collects the wetness around your entrance before circling around your clit.

You exhale in a high-pitched moan and your legs try to close around his head, but he is using his strong hands to push them apart. Taehyung is always eager to taste you, but you can definitely tell this berry is enhancing it.

The scene is so dirty; you with your legs open for him on the kitchen countertop, and his face desperately eating out your cunt, the slurping noises getting a little too loud and all you can do is run your hands through his messy hair to keep him where you need him.

“Oh, just like that!” You plead with him when he starts sucking on your small bud, the warm feeling growing in your stomach. He chuckles into your heat, and you whine when his mouth detaches from your core.

“You taste like candy, Y/n. Think you can get a little wetter for me baby?” You nod frantically with your lower lip in between your teeth.

He fully stands up since he was leaning down over you and takes his shirt off. You lean up to touch his toned chest. His skin is tanned to perfection and warm underneath your cold hands. He grabs the hem of the bottom of your shirt to pull it over your head and you let him. He quickly unclasps your bra, and your breasts spill out.

Taehyung attaches his lips to your neck and his hands to your breasts, palming them and rolling your nipples in between his fingers. You let your head drop back and another moan escapes your mouth. You haven’t even done anything to help him out yet but he’s taking his time to worship your body. His lips trail up your neck and nibble on your earlobe.

“You’re so fucking sexy Y/n.. letting me do whatever I want with you.” You hum in agreement and feel up his back muscles while he’s over you.

“I trust you, Tae.” He groans at your words and moves downward to suck at your nipple. The teasing is too much. He’s brought you to the brink of orgasm and now he’s flicking his tongue around your left nipple, and you almost feel like you could cum just from this.

“Tae, please I wanna cum.” You beg and he comes face to face with you.

“Are you wetter for me, huh?” Growing impatient, you just take his hand in yours and put it between your legs for him to feel.

He smugly chuckles again, “Good fucking girl.” And he’s down back in between your legs again to taste your sweetness. This time he dips his tongue into your entrance to collect more of your essence into his mouth, moaning at the taste of you again.

“Wanna make this pussy cum.” He says into your heat and wraps his puffy lips around your clit again.

You can’t stop your body from grinding into his face and you muster out a “Fuck, I’m cumming.” and he continues to flick his tongue around your bundle of nerves, your legs spasming around his head.

You’re dizzy from your orgasm and you’re back to reality once you hear the clinking of his belt buckle becoming undone.

“I need to fuck you Y/n, need to feel this sweet pussy cum around me.” You are a bit dazed from your orgasm, but you will never turn down Taehyung’s cock inside you. You want to make him feel good too.

Once his cock is out, it slaps against his stomach and your mouth naturally waters at the sight.

“You want this right?” Taehyung asks you and your heart melts at his words, always making sure to get your consent with anything he does with you, despite your body being splayed across the counter for him to use as he pleases.

“Yes, please I need you Tae. Please fuck me.” He smiles warmly at you and gives his cock a few pumps with his hand before rubbing it over your folds to coat it with your wetness. A gasp leaves your mouth at the feeling of how hard he is and the need to have him fuck you is overpowering, and you whine.

You attempt to move your hips up to direct his length into you, but he obliges to your needs and sinks into you slowly.

Both of you moan simultaneously at the feeling and you hold onto his arms, feeling them flex under your fingers. He grinds into you, brushing against your walls deliciously. Taehyung was always mindful when he fucked you. He wasn’t the type of guy to chase his pleasure, he always made sure you were feeling good too, seeking validation.

“Tell me how I make you feel.” He demands softly and you moan.

“So so good. Your cock stretches me out so perfect. I love it.” His face grimaces in pleasure and he starts to pick up his pace. He uses his hands to hold your hips in place on the counter while you’re laid back on it. In this position, you can’t do too much to fuck him back, but he is taking everything into his hands, putting in the work to make you feel good.

“Fuck!” He pulls out abruptly and slaps his cock on your clit a couple times and you yelp.

“I can’t cum until you do one more time, ok?” You whimper from his words. You want him to cum so bad but he’s insistent and you can’t argue with him.

“Think you can give me one more, gorgeous?” And with that he’s back inside you, hitting your spot perfectly. Your legs start to ache a little from the position and you unknowingly clench around him. Taehyung lets out a choked moan and wraps his hand around the side of your neck.

“You gonna cum soon?” He asks and you give him a little “mm-hm” and he makes sure to keep the pace exactly how you like it. It becomes too much and you’re almost there, closing your eyes in pleasure.

Taehyung grabs your face by the jaw and says, “I want you to look at me when I make you cum, Y/n.” His dark stare along with his complete dominance over you is what drives you over the edge, fireworks exploding in your stomach and spreading all the way down to your toes and fingertips.

“That’s it, baby. Let go for me.” Taehyung coaxes you through your orgasm. You’re slowly floating back down from your high when you notice Taehyung pull out of you. His cock still erect but covered in your slick now.

“You still have it in you to finish me off?” He cheekily asks and you smile at him, getting off the counter with wobbly legs.

The sight of you kneeling down in front of him, flushed from being fucked out and wide eyes makes his cock twitch.

“Taste yourself.” He softly demands and you grab his length and take his tip into your mouth. Holy shit. Of course you’ve tasted yourself with Tae before, but this is completely different. Now you understand why Tae was so eager to eat you out. His cock is covered in your sweet syrup and you wanna lick him clean like a lollipop. Taehyung sees your surprised reaction to the taste and smirks at you knowingly.

“Tastes fucking amazing, doesn’t it?” You moan in agreement, and he gathers your hair in a makeshift pony, egging you on- “Have some more baby.”

You lick stripes up his shaft, the sweet taste filling your mouth. You know this is a little gross, but you couldn’t care less as you see his chest rising and falling due to your actions. You make sure to lick him fully clean of you before taking as much of his cock down your throat as you can.

“Fuck Y/n, your mouth is so perfect. Doing such a good job.” His praise sends tingles down your spine and only advances you to do a better job for him. You start moving your head up and down while you suck and use your hand to play with his balls. His sexy moans are getting louder, and you want him to cum so bad. You take your mouth off him but continue to jerk him off with your hand. Looking up at him with your innocent eyes, you tell him what you want.

“I want to taste all of you, Tae. I want your cum so bad.” He groans so loud from your words and starts to try to thrust into your mouth and you let him. You put your mouth back around him and he holds your head in place while he lightly fucks your throat. It’s not long until his cum goes down your throat in hot spurts. You swallow it all, the sweetness covering your tongue and you moan at the taste of him, making sure to suck his tip for the rest.

Tae is shivering under your touch and his chest is pink and lightly covered in a sheen of sweat. How am I so lucky? He helps you up onto your feet and you are face to face with him.

“You’re the devil Y/n, but why do you look like my little angel at the same time?” He pulls you into him and presses his lips into yours, intermingling his tongue with yours, definitely tasting both of you on your tongue. His dominance is so sexy, and you can’t believe you did something so dirty with him but for some reason you feel no shame at all.

Out of breath, you pull away and rest your forehead against his.

“We gotta take those berries to the bedroom next time, fuck.” He says and you giggle before giving him one more peck on the mouth.

A/N: Pls support by liking, reblogging, and commenting! I love to see feedback! I've had this in progress for a while but finally finished it and I hope you guys like it! I could have chosen any of the members but I felt like Taehyung would most likely be goofy enough to be so excited over these berries lol.

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