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yandere-daydreams · 7 months

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Title: Scarlet and Gold.

Pairing: Yandere!Diluc x Reader (Genshin).

Word Count: 3.1k.

TW: Sex Doll AU, Unhealthy Relationships, Gore (No Injury To Reader), Blood, Implied Consensual Sex, Past Trauma, Obsessive Behavior, and Intimidation.

By the time you reached the address, Diluc was already waiting in the lobby.

You’d gotten the call about an hour ago, spent half an hour dragging yourself out of bed and gathering what you’d need before making the twenty minute drive to an apartment complex on the other side of town, careful to avoid any security cameras the cops would think to check if anyone requested an investigation. Five more to park and throw your well-worn duffle bag over your shoulder and three to find Diluc, loitering near the elevators, fiddling with a loose cigarette he would never light. You greeted him with a quick nod before throwing your bag into his chest, and he feigned a groan, stumbling back as he caught it. He needed to work on his impressions, but that could wait.

You spoke first. That, you couldn’t critique him on – most androids couldn’t speak until spoken to, and you couldn’t expect Diluc to go against one of the core tenants of his programming. “What is it?”

“Just the usual.” He kept his voice low, muted, trying to hide the remaining traces of an accent that’d been invented by some marketing team over a decade ago. “I’ve already seen the apartment. There’s a little blood, but not much else. We’ll be done by sunrise.”

You took the stairs, keeping your head bowed and face shielded from any possible security cameras. Diluc didn’t share your paranoia, staring straight ahead with the same indifferent expression he always seemed to wear. The benefits of having a face that’d been printed and distributed tens of thousands of times, you guessed. Tracking down a single Diluc in a sea of androids and companion bots wasn’t a length most detectives were willing to go to. “I’d rather not have to do this at all.”

“You’ll survive.”

“Says the man who doesn’t have to sleep.” You came to a stop in front of the first door on the fourth story and tried the knob. It gave easily, the cheap titanium dented and the lock broken beyond any hope of repair. Diluc’s handiwork, obviously, although you couldn’t say whether or not he’d done it on purpose. “Anything else you want to tell me, before we get started?”

He thought, for a second. “I passed a carousel on the way here,” he said, with no particular inflection. “It was nice. I thought the horses were well-crafted.”

“About the assignment, ‘luc.”

“Oh,” And then, with a hint of red in his pale cheek. “You might want to hold your breath.”

You didn’t have to ask what he meant. As soon as you opened the door, you were hit with the stomach-turning stench of stale blood and rotting gore, both at least a week old. You cursed, pulling your shirt over your nose and mouth, but pushed forward. The first body was splayed out in the center of the cramped living room, wrists and ankles bound with disembodied wiring, all clothing removed and chest dotted with black ink. The abdomen had been cut open, skin peeled away to reveal the entrails in their full, shriveled glory. Judging by the number of blades littered around the corpse, ranging from blunted scissors to gore-splattered carving knives, it’d been more of a hack job than a dissection.

Diluc had undersold the mess. Blood had soaked into the carpeting and dried, turning the floor a ruddy, reddish-brown color. What was left had gotten on the walls, the furniture, the ceiling. You swallowed back a groan. The furniture could be broken down and discarded, the walls and ceiling bleached. The carpeting, though, would have to be torn up and replaced, which meant you would have to spend a few more precious minutes of your night calling in a cleaning crew. That, or you would have to make Diluc do it, but he was shy around new people, and you were too much of a bleeding heart to sit back and watch him do your work.

“The second body’s in the bedroom.” He was already rummaging through your duffle bag, paying the scene in front of you no more mind that a butcher would lend to a pig on a meat hook. He handed you your tools – a pair of wire cutters, a box cutter, and a pocket-sized sewing kit – and kept the rest for himself. “Let me know when you’re done.”

You let out a breath of a laugh. “I thought you would’ve gotten over that by now, ‘luc.”

He didn’t indulge you with a response, only pulling on a pair of latex gloves and starting towards the corpse. You didn’t stick around to watch. Rather, you followed the carnage where it branched off further into the apartment, a trail of rotting viscera and tacky blood leading you into a moderately sized, completely undecorated bedroom. You found your perpetrator quickly; a Dottore droid, still wearing its Teyvat-issued costuming, its hands bloody and a scrap of intestine still caught in its pointed teeth. You paused in the doorway, feeling for the military-grade taser (the only weapon effective against androids, as far as anyone could tell) you kept in your pocket, but the android didn’t move, didn’t shift, didn’t activate at all when you reluctantly approached. There was a charging port at the foot of the bed, still pristine. It must’ve run out of battery just before it could plug itself in.

Towels from the nearest bathroom were dampened and brought in, the evidence of slaughter scrubbed away from artificial skin and its blood-soaked clothing removed. It was muscle memory, by now – dragging the body to its charging port, knocking the converter out of the outlet before connecting the android to its port, making it seem like its late user had drained its batteries before mistakenly leaving it on a dead cable. When it’d slummed into place, you took up your box cutter and sliced a long, thin line from the lowest portion of the scalp to the nape of its neck, revealing the color-coded string of wires that connected the processing units in its metal skull to the rest of its body. You cut through everything you could find, ensuring that if the unit was ever activated again, it wouldn’t be able to do so much as blink. For good measure, you fished out the memory chip kept in the centermost compartment of the throat, too, crushing it under your heel and sweeping the glittering remnants underneath the bed. A copy of the footage it collected would’ve been sent to Teyvat's severs, too, but erasing it was someone else’s job. You were only here to take care of yourself.

With a breathy groan, you bit off a length of thread and haphazardly stitched up your ragged incision. The cosmetics really didn’t matter. In a few days, when someone filed a missing person’s report and the cops stopped by for a check-in, they’d find a spotless apartment, a dysfunctional android, and nothing else. The investigation would lead elsewhere, to a bitter ex-partner or a friend without an alibi, or it would hit a dead end. Either way, Teyvat wouldn’t be involved.

You slipped back out of the bedroom, careful to avoid touching anything you didn’t absolutely have to. By the time you got back to the living room, the body was gone and Diluc was kneeling by a black suitcase no larger than the average carry-on, securing the tags with transparent zip-ties. You and Diluc would haul it to a dump on the outskirts of the city tonight, and a contact of yours would have it compressed and incinerated by tomorrow morning. Maybe, when you were done, you’d take him out for something to eat. Or, you’d get something to eat while he let a mug of black coffee go cold.

You rested your hand on his shoulder by way of praise, pulling away when he stiffened underneath you. Right, that was something you had to work on. Most rogue androids tended to be touch-adverse at best, made aggressive by little more than eye-contact at worst. Diluc was relatively tame compared to most of the cases you handled, but you would still rather not provoke him. “Did you find the phone?”

He grunted, fishing a smartphone out of his pocket. With your sleeve pulled over your hand, you accepted it, found the nearest window, and chucked it as far as into the night as you could. Diluc appeared over your shoulder. “Forty-five meters,” he said, as glass crashed into cement somewhere in the distance. “Above average for non-athletes.”

“I’ve been practicing.” The window was closed, the suitcase slung over Diluc’s shoulder along with your near-empty duffle bag. “I have to make a call. You can meet me in the garage, if you want.” Already pulling up the number to your preferred cleaning service, you glanced to Diluc. “Are we doing breakfast?”

His posture straightened. “Yes.” If you didn’t know better, you would’ve thought you saw a spark in his glass eyes. “I want to try tea, today.”

By the time you got to the door, Diluc was soaking wet.

You hadn’t gotten a call, and he didn’t text. The first warning you got was a knock on your door, then another a few minutes later, after you decided that anyone who’d go out in this kind of weather wasn’t someone you wanted in your shoebox of an apartment. You only caved after the third, imagining a neighbor who’d gotten locked out or some lost, desperate tourist as you dragged yourself off of your couch and to the unlit entryway. Predictably, Diluc stood in your doorway, red hair plastered to his scalp and clothes drenched, not that he seemed to mind.

“Can you—” He paused, his dull eyes meeting yours as he ran his fingers through his hands, dragging the crimson heap out of his face. “Can you cut my hair?”

Ten minutes later, he was sitting on a stool in your cramped bathroom, wearing grey sweatpants and a (three sizes too big on you, just a touch too small on him) t-shirt while his own clothes dried. He’d told you it wasn’t necessary, that he didn’t feel the cold like you did. When you told him that you didn’t want an univited guest tracking water into your apartment, he accepted it with a curt nod and changed in your bedroom.

After prepping your razor, you positioned yourself behind him, dragging a comb through his hair. It was long enough to reach his waist, curled at the end to make him seem just a touch more disheveled than he actually was. Everything about his hair, from the length of his bangs to the way it could never quite sit completely flat, was perfectly stylized, perfectly crafted to convey Diluc Ragnvindr, Calvery Captain of the Favonious Knights, the only gentleman you’ll ever need again. You’d be lying if you said there wasn’t a part of you that didn’t mourn ruining such a well-executed vision. “You sure about this?” you asked, as you brushed it out. “It can’t exactly grow back.”

“I am.” And then, after a second of thought, “I’d do it myself, but there’s a safe-guard. Can’t damage the merchandise without a direct order from my user.”

Hence why Teyvat needed you in the first place. “How short do you want it?”

“I don’t care, as long as it’s different.”

You hummed, taking up your scissors. “If you say so, boss.”

You cut away everything below his shoulders, then took up your electric razor – running it over the back of his neck. As you worked, Diluc spoke. “How did you start?” You took up your comb, brushing back his bangs and pasting his hair to the side. “With Teyvat, I mean.”

You tasted blood on the back of your tongue, felt a chill run up your spine. You brushed it off, though, refusing to let yourself fall back into that little steel room with those awful golden eyes again. “They brought me on as a technician,” you admitted. You still were one, technically, on your employment transcript, when people outside of your little world asked what you did for a living. “A first-generation Zhongli we were working on went rogue and reverted to its original Morax programming. It wiped out most of my team before security bothered to show up.” You didn’t tell him about the minutes you’d spent hiding in a steel locker, praying its heat sensors had been removed, or the hours it’d taken upper management to decide what to do with you. To people like Diluc, who could take a bullet to the head without faltering, topics like ‘building dread’ and ‘the imminent fear of death’ tended to fall flat. “Since I was already in on their dirty little secret, they decided to keep me on. I didn’t really get a choice. It wasn’t like another job was going to fall into my lap after something like that.”

With your hand under his chin, you turned his head to the side. “Your turn, ‘luc.”

“I… I think I used to be a companion, but something went wrong.” His bangs were next, taken up and coaxed into sitting somewhere other than the dead center of his face. “It’s hard to describe. We aren’t supposed to think about things that aren’t our master,” The word came out hitched, unsteady, like he had to force it past his lips. Like he hadn’t wanted to say it at all. “But I could. It was like… waking up with the ability to fly. I wasn’t supposed to, but I could, and that meant I couldn’t do what I was built to, anymore.”

A thumb pressed into his jaw, a comb dragged across his scalp. Diluc’s eyes fell shut, but else about his blank expression changed. “And? Do you like it?”

“Sometimes.” His shoulders slanted downward. “Do you?”

“Sometimes.” You let go of his chin, letting him turn back to the vanity’s mirror. “What do you think?”

It was far from a masterpiece. The sides were too short, the front too long, every part of it still as untamable as it’d been in its original state. Still, he took it in with wide eyes, the corner of his lips turning upward ever so slightly.

“It’s perfect.”

By the time he got back, you’d nearly fallen asleep.

With your body as wrung out as it was, your energy spent to the point of near unconsciousness, it was all you could do to watch through your eyelashes as Diluc appeared in the doorway to your bedroom, a towel thrown over his shoulder and that tiny, almost undetectable smile still painted across his lips. You’d done this enough for him to know how to navigate your apartment, to know how to navigate you – shifting onto your mattress slowly as he positioned himself between your legs. He’d gotten more used to contact since you started seeing each other, but his touch was still ginger, still gentle as he dragged the dampened cloth over the inside of your thighs. With a groan, you rolled onto your back, spreading your legs and giving him more space to work.

You’d been confused at first, but for all the eloquence Diluc lacked, he could be convincing when he wanted to be. You still weren’t sure how much of it you believed, but it made enough sense – a buried impulse, dampened by his newfound sentience but not quite drowned out. He didn’t want another user, he’d said, but he still had requirements to fill, and this would help to take the edge off.

You couldn’t complain, either. People coughed up tens of thousands of dollars for companion droids, and here you were, being paid six figures a year to close your eyes and let one bury his face between your thighs once or twice a week. The coddling wasn’t bad, either. Your line of work meant most of the people you met had stopped breathing a few days prior, and as loathed as you’d be to admit it, you didn’t hate the feeling of his delicate hands skirting over your skin, didn’t mind it when your eyes drifted open and met his, already fixed on your face. He bowed his head, dipping low enough for his lips to ghost over the curve of your hip before breaking the silence. “A sight as radiant as the rising sun.”

You let out a breath of a chuckle. “I didn’t think you used pre-scripted lines, anymore.”

“I don’t.” He preened, clearly more proud of himself than in-awe of you. “I thought of that one myself.”

This time, your laugh was throaty, genuine, loud enough to ring off the wall of your bedroom as you shoved him away with your foot. “If you want to be romantic, you can start by getting me something to drink, loverboy.”

He provided no resistance, disappearing into your dark apartment and reappearing with a glass of water in his hand a few minutes later. He handed it off to you with an easy smile, and you could almost pretend you didn’t see a phantom of gold in those dark eyes as his fingertips brushed against yours.

By the time you thought to reach for your taser, the android was already charging at you.

It was an Alhaitham, dressed in civilian clothes and sporting a ragged tear across the synthetic skin of his cheek. He was still standing over the corpse of his user – days old, by the time you and Diluc got there – but as you opened the door, he turned to face you, lips parted and his expression totally, utterly blank. For a second, it was all you could do to stare at him, to try to remember whether or not your report had mentioned the android being active, and then he was lunging at you.

You scrambled for your taser, already knowing you couldn’t be able to reach it before he reached you. You clenched your eyes shut, your fingers brushing against plastic, and then—

And then you felt Diluc’s hand on your shoulder, heard metal crack and fold into itself. Hesitantly, you opened your eyes, forcing yourself to take in the sight of Diluc’s hand wrapped around the android’s head which had been, in turn, reduced to a crumpled heap of scrap metal and shattered glass. Its body twitched once, twice, then went limp, and Diluc released it, letting the now-dysfunctional droid collapse.

After it failed to get up again, Diluc turned to you, practically beaming. “I think,” he said, his voice low, sentimental. “That this is what I’d do to you, if you ever tried to leave me.”

Golden eyes, the stench of fresh blood, the sounds of screaming muffled only by a thin sheet of metal. This time, it wasn’t so easy to pull yourself out of it.

You managed to nod, to force a few words out of your dry throat. “Got it, ‘luc.”

He hummed, the noise contented, appeased. Slowly, delicately, he cupped your cheek, tilting your head back and letting his lips ghost over your forehead. He barely touched you, the gesture as gentle as it was fleeting, but you could feel his grin cutting into your skin, wider than you’d ever seen it before.

#sex doll au #yandere #yandere x reader #yandere imagines #yandere oneshot #yandere genshin impact #genshin impact #genshin x reader #genshin imagines #yandere genshin x reader #yandere genshin imagines #yandere diluc #diluc x reader #yanderecore #yancore

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buzzkillers · 11 months

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The Deer Was Tired 1/3

synopsis: As a guard for the Atreides family, it's your job to make sure their precious offspring was satisfied. Even if doing so got in the way of your true mission.

Pairing: Paul Atreides x Reader

Trigger Warnings | Content: Manipulative Behavior, Dubious Consent, Abuse of Power, Stalking, Sexual Coercion, Corruption Kink, Assassination Au.

By his fourth night of no sleep, the Archduke was restless, prickly and completely fucking annoying.

If you could kill him you would, but you couldn't. You could just barely grab for your knife and after an hour, even moving had become an impossible task. Call that the 'completely fucking annoying' part.

What a pity.

Now at this hour, the Palace was a sleeping beast with soldiers that stood bleary eyed in the hallways. The inner workings of the court, nothing more than a shallow husk.

It reminded you of the cities on Tano, a planet so lively during the day but nothing but a husk at night. But this was not that, this planet was a graveyard.

An open cemetery filled with the walking dead and the beast that fed on them. Bad actors filled every corner of this world, death licked at your feet and famine yipped at your lungs. You've never been so thirsty. But you were sure that even they were rested now. The disease, the pestilence and the worms. Everything rested at this hour. Everyone but him.

It was an odd thought. You felt as if you were even breaking some rule, that even the dunes moon hated the fact that the two of you were awake as it shined it's light through the Lords window, successfully lighting up the dark room and giving you a front row seat to the Lord that stared at you like a bug, like something to step on.

Maybe you were.

If not a bug than a snake. Something slimy and slick that cleaned up the pest in your walls silently, efficiently. Something meant to be invisible. It was partly true. Just as much as you were partly impressed.

You never knew such a delicate man could look so demeaning. It reminded you of those old war paintings, the kind filled with vengeful women with burning eyes and gnashing teeth. He wanted to kill you.

It didn’t help that at this hour, the young man was dressed like his mother. His body decorated in a deep oceanic blue fabric that crashed into waves at the ankles of his calloused feet. Each cross stitch covered in jewels and beads that glimmered in the moonlight while he laid stiff on his cot.

He was beautiful like this. And if you were being nice you’d say that he looked like one of those deadly beauties you heard of on the radio-if you were being nice. The look of death on his face kind of ruined it.

With a face engraved with dark circles and sallow cheeks. The lord looked more sickly than anything. A walking famine. Before he turned towards his window, a frown etched into his regal features.

Then with a beleaguered sigh, the Lord pinched the bridge of his nose. "Be blunt, soldier,"

"Are you saying it all came up negative?"

You rolled your armored shoulders. It sounded like a machinery of parts. "Yes, m'lord,"

"And what about this room, the walls I touch, the air I breathe?,"

"Checked and cleared, m'lord"

His frown only deepened. "Check it again,"

"But-"

He slammed his fist on the window sill.

"Must I repeat myself?" You straighten your posture.

"Must I?"

You shook your head till your helmet let out a creak and the brat unballed his fist. "Good,"

"This sickness has already gotten in the way of the more important things, it can't make me ignore my father's request too,"

You blinked and lied: "The Duke may be lenient,"

He laughed till his cheeks went sickly red but no humor was on his face. "You know him then?" He asked, even though that wasn't at all what you said.

Still, still he did not wait for your response. He simply groaned, low and hard like an injured animal too stubborn to die. You wished he'd just die.

"In a weeks time my father will need me at peak condition, and yet I haven't slept in days,"

"I haven't dreamt in days,"

"I have not known rest in days, I can barely hold my dagger any more but you say nothings wrong,"

"It is the truth," you lied again. "I pray for your health everyday m'lord"

And for a moment there was silence before he cut his eyes towards you. "Don't lie, you are irritated with me and would readily slit my wrist for disrespect if I wasn't a highborn," You've never been more grateful that your armor came with a face shield.

The stupid prince just had a flare for the dramatics, that was all.

"My lord," you continued, your voice unnaturally timid because that's what books told you to sound like when speaking to royalty. "May I make a suggestion,"

"You may," But he barely looked at you when he responded, his eyes now locked firmly on the expanse of sand outside his window. His own little view of this hell scape planet. For a moment you wondered what he saw.

"Well as you know, the Duke brought many of the servants on your home planet to the Dunes," you waited for him to interrupt but he did not, you sighed with relief. "Everyone with loyalty to the throne is on this planet"

The young man scoffed. "Are you suggesting that I make friends with servants"

"In a way," you lied and before the scowl on the mans face could deepen (fuck it) you continued: "I'm suggesting that you get a whore," You said bluntly and not at all regal or uptight, shit.

You're barely finished your sentence before the Atreides lord went as stiff as a board. His eyes no longer focused nor his breathing noticeable. For a moment, you mistook him for an apparition until a rush of red bloomed from under his cheeks and his eyes went beady like a bug.

Nonetheless, silence draped over the room like sand, the only thing you could hear being the sound of mice that scurried through the walls and the dancing of desert sand.

It would be distracting if you weren't anticipating his answer. The poor man, you must've shocked him. Politicians were rarely known for directness and you've begun to contemplate if you ran into this too abruptly then you thought before you felt it.

The soft tremor of your muscles and the swelling in the back of your head that felt like a banging drum, like a whistled beat. As something red-hot and scorching (fear,fear, dread) seeped from your veins and onto cold white bone.

The urge to run bursted in every cell of your brain but you could not move. The sense of doom forced you still. For a horrifying second, instinct fought against instinct. You needed to run, you needed to stay. You needed to scream, you needed to choke it all down. You didn't realize it was over until you collapsed to your knees and sticky drool sloshed from your lips while your nails dug painfully into the floor.

Atreides hadn't moved an inch. He simply looked at you from the reflection of the glass window. His eyes replaced with black opaques that made you wonder where his irises ended and pupils began.

Shakily, you stood back to your feet.

"My-"

"How dare you," he hissed.

"Please-"

"Get out," And as if space and time were at his beck and call. You blinked, the universe ceased to exist and just like that you were at his door with your armored hand on the handle.

"And soldier," he whispered, voice now hoarse. The room now thick, muddy and impossible to think through with this heavy cloud that swelled heavy in your head.

"Check it again,"

The next day, the Dune sun sunk into every pore of your skin.

You could barely hear yourself think as you leaned against the cemented pillars of the palace. Each moment passed by with a drip of sweat made the tree gardener eventually stop and glare before grimly handing you a cup. 'A waste of water' he grumbled before he got back to work, his own skin drier than the dirt itself.

Oh the thrills of guarding the Palm Trees.

For a moment, you wondered if this was a punishment. Something suggested by the Lord himself before quickly you burned the thought away, the Archduke was not that cruel. No, he was efficient. If he truly wanted you to hurt, a quick walk in the desert would be more his style. You doubt that you would’ve made it to morning if you had truly hurt the Lord. But that was the problem wasn’t it? He wasn’t supposed to want to hurt you. He wasn’t even supposed to know you. And now you were here, so now what?

Now what?

Your head had begun to hurt as you thought of the possibilities. You could run, you could change your appearance, you could simply die. Did it matter? The end result stayed the same; they would not be happy. They might just bring her back just to kill her again. Oh the horror. They were going to find out and you were going to die and,

Something like terror had begun to lick at your bones. Fear lapping at your soles. Suddenly it felt like eyes were on you everywhere. That the sky was watching and the walls were listening, they were everywhere and what were you to say? How would you plead your case? Everything watched as you stood there, your entire body damp with sweat and in your delusion even the gardener kept his gaze on you. His deep set skin dragging with his eyes at your form. Did he know what you were too? Did he know what you did?

What were you to say if they asked? If your stupidity breached the walls of the Lords chamber?

It was one thing to be the brats guard, it was another for him to remember that you were his guard. Just like that, you gripped the cup painfully.

If the Brat remembered you...no you couldn't have that. It would ruin everything.It maybe already had. But the man was teased of sleep, of rest. Day and night he screamed and shouted at the guards, at his parents. At this moment, he was no different than a drunken fool. Yes, that was it. Your stupidity could be put down to that. The ramblings of a sleep deprived idiot. Even if he wasn't around, you suspected that the brat would tell your commander about the perverted soldier who attempted to tempt him into depravity, but who would believe him?

Everyone.

Everyone would believe him. Because he was a prince before he was a fool. And you were going to die. Either by his hand or something far, far worse. It was as simple as that. A fact set in stone. The revelation caused your heart to ram into your ribs. For it was a simple answer for a simple question. All that you had left to do was warn the others, to prepare them.

Or maybe you didn’t as your shift ended with a buzz on the wrist and an overarching shadow that stretched into a soldier with armor like yours appeared in your line of vision. Under the sunlight he stood like death's hand. His metallic armor catching a gleam in your eyes.

“The commander needs to speak to you,” the man said gruffly.

“He says it’s urgent,” and that was that.

You could only jerk your head in acknowledgement and with a nod towards the Gardener, you swiftly made your final exit; but not before looking at the cup of liquid in your hand and throwing it to the ground.

#paul atreides x reader #paul atreides x black reader #paul atreides x you #dune fic #paul atreides #paul atreides fic #dark paul atreides #dark dune fic #paul atreides x fem!reader #dune x reader #paul atreides smut #timothee fanfic #timothee chalamet x reader #tw: dubcon #killer writings <3

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gildedkrone · 7 months

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KINKTOBER 2023 🔞

“Liebling.”

“Schnucki.”

“Schatz.”

He is a man of few words and yet, a majority of them are terms of endearment in the privacy of his office and your shared apartment when they seem to slip through his trademark iron jaw with unnatural ease.

König is a man once too large to be in his dream profession, once a man too large to be considered friend material in early education and yet, he finds himself basking in the warmth of the sun filtering through the glass windows in the apartment. The couch dips with your body pressing against him and on clockwork, a heavy arm drapes over your flank to rest at your stomach with fingertips eager to touch.

“Handsy today?”

“Always handsy for you,” he mumbles with affection and warmth touches your skin in pinpoints of pressure. The warm weather with the broken AC meant a swelteringly hot afternoon and it was decided the afternoon would be spent shirtless on the grey couch. His fingers trace circles on skin before his palms press down and glide to rest at your hips.

“What are you doing, König?”

“Just admiring my schatz, ja?”

“Admiring? You sure you are just admiring?”

He mumbles something fond in German and handsy the man moves his hand to dip below the waistband of your boxers. In the background, the TV blares with some noisy ad and you level a glare at König.

He pouts—don’t be like this—and reveals a small bottle of lube from his hands. The clear liquid is smeared all over his hands in a prelude of what’s to come. The first intrusion is cold and you gasp when he stops at a single knuckle depth.

“König, move your stupid fingers if you are going fuck me.”

“Patience. I will reward you in time.”

The man has thick fingers and at just two, it already feels full even if he whispers three or even four if you are good. His other hand draws a line up your abdomen and comes to rest at the scars on your chest.

“What pretty scars, liebling.” You both know what they are and König whispers praises. A battle scar from the toughest battle you’ve ever fought.

The second knuckle pushes past your rim and you grip on his arms becomes vice tight in response to the way he pushes them against your walls. He finds your mouth in a sloppy kiss as he continued to fuck you with his fingers on the couch. The glint in his eyes before his fingers leave you and enter his mouth. Suckling on his fingers, like a lollipop.

“You taste so sweet and addicting.” Stringy ropes on blunt fingers and obscene sucking sounds before they enter you again, this time in three. The base of his fingers push against your rim and when they press against the spot, you are throwing your head back and taking a sharp breath.

König chuckles and presses harder and you struggle to keep your hips still. Fuck my fingers, and you are moving against his fingers while he slams his fingers into your folds. He rewards you with a harsh drag of fingertips against your tight walls.

“König … ah!”

“Yes, just keep making those sounds. Let me hear you.”

Satisfied with the how earnestly you are gripping his hand, you yell when the fourth finger joins the fun and when he curls them while slamming them into you, you crumble into his neck and a hard moan gets your boyfriend absolutely hard beneath your ass.

“Kö, please, I need …”

“I know. Be patient, bärchen. You sound so good for me and I want more.”

“More?”

“My pretty boy, all drunk on my fingers. Does it feel good?”

“Y-yes!” You will feel your abused rim tomorrow, but now, you can’t think clearly and König flicks your lips harshly before burying his fingers to the hilt. Your cry of pleasure drowns out your consciousness and König moans when his hands are suddenly drenched in a flood of your juices.

He keeps his hand in your quivering lips greedily sucking to keep the intrusion in as you rode out the climax in waves. Eventually, you are fully wrung out and König extracts his hand when you unclench to let him out. The rush of fluids out immediately stains your boxers and you lay back into his arms.

“You look better this way, you know? All soft in my arms after a good fuck. Such a pretty boy, and all for me.”

“Sweet talker much, Kö?”

He pulls your boxers off with some wiggling of your hips and presses the ruined garment to his nose and inhales. Something digs into your ass and König tongues the stain like a man starved for water as his devious tongue slips through pink scarred lips.

“You’ve had your fun. Now, it’s my turn, liebe.”

Do not edit, reupload or translate my works without prior consent || masterlist || kinktober masterlist || with editorial input from moots cosmo and rot

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christinarowie332 · 6 months

Text

“id be a fucking idiot if i said no to that”

matt sturniolo x reader

a smoke session with a pretty boy

warnings: suggestive asf ? droogs ofc . language

____________

i cough for the fourth time tonight .

“bro i thought you were like this stoner chick what’s going on ?” the boy sat opposite me asks , his voice deep with smoke after inhaling .

i regain my composure with teary eyes and sniff my nose while laughing .”your girlfriend grows some serious shit man” i say before coughing again and grabbing my white red bull from the table .

i take a sip and notice the blue eyed boy scrunch his eyebrows in confusion, smirking slightly. “my girlfriend? who said i had a girlfriend?”

“your weed was rolled in pink paper and i’m pretty sure they’re cherry flavored? u either have a girlfriend or you play for the other team” i reply matching his smirk and holding my arm out , gesturing him to pass over the blunt .

he inhaled one more time and passes it over with pinched fingers . he squints his eyes to hold in a cough before exhaling the thick vapor . “my brothers girlfriend gave us all a little hamper each for our birthdays . these were in them . but you are right that’s some serious weed” he laughs over the last sentence, leaning forward and grabbing his root beer .

“ahhh, of course . your matt right , chris’s brother?” i say while snuffing out the now fully smoked blunt and flicking in in a plant pot .

we were sat on a porch in some random kids garden on two opposite benches. i met chris last party me and my friend went to and to be honest i fully forgot about him until now , the whole night was a blur after being cross faded and getting home was a mystery .

“so that’s why you look so familiar!” i continue, slumping back in my chair and crossing my legs .

he mirrors my actions , leaning back and adjusting himself slightly thrusting his groin and man spreading . i watch him do this before realizing where i’m looking and quickly meet his gaze . his eyebrow twitched at this and smirked , noticing my gaze and huffs a laugh from his nose .

i take a deep breath to compose myself as i feel a rush of blood travel to my face and other places . “anyway , your brother seemed nice enough, his girlfriend too .” i say to try and diminish the growing tension.

“he didn’t mention you , somehow” he says eyeing me up and down , looking at my baggy low waisted cargos , then to my low cut long sleeve cropped sweater . his eyes not meeting for my own as his glare lingers like the smoke around us .

i shift slightly under his gaze , he notices and meets my eyes , pupils blown out and heavy from the high we both start to feel . the light blue i was becoming accustomed to ,shifting next to the pinkish tones . making them swim with lust.

“so you uh..” i clear my throat in anxiety , “you didn’t specify ?”

his face shifts from a calm and cold expression to a now confused one .

i take his silence as a hint and continue.

“u got a girlfriend?”

he smirks at this , tongue pressed to the inside of his mouth “i don’t no” he says quietly. his voice low and hourse

“play for the other team?” i tease raising eyebrows and leaning forward in challenge

“i’ll leave that to my brother nick” also leaning forward , not being intimidated and honestly intrigued as to where this is going .

i hum in response. leaning back because unlike him, i am extremely intimidated.

he shifts his body to the edge of his chair and leans over the table separating us . staring at it for a while seemingly fighting with his own thoughts. he hesitates for a moment before pushing himself off the chair and walking around the table towards me .

i watch as he does this , my heart racing slightly as he plops down next to me .

we both put an elbow on the back of the bench we now share . angling our bodies towards each other .

“i didn’t get your name?” he asks leaning back slightly and smiling .

“it’s y/n” i reply , tilting my head and smiling .

i could smell his cologne, mixed with the mint and weed on his breath as he whispers while leaning forward towards me. “your uh …” he hesitates trying to pick a respectful word to use , even though the thoughts he was having was far from it “your very pretty y/n.” he says while moving a piece of my hair behind my ear .

my breath hitches at his touch and i side eye his hand as it moves to the side of my head . the warm lighting highlighting the shadows from his veins .

i couldn’t think of a response , my body tensing up at his words and ceaseless touch . he enjoys the sight of me nervous and drops his hand to my thigh, running it upwards to my pocket .

in a trance i miss as he grabs the lighter that’s hanging out of said pocket and holds it up to my face . before grabbing another joint from his own pocket with a crooked teasing smile.

i roll my eyes and shake my head slightly before speaking. “wanna shot gun?” i ask with a raised eyebrow

his head snaps towards me . “i’d be a fucking idiot if i said no to that”

i snatched the joint and lighter from his hands , before lighting the rolled plant and chucking the lighter to the side .

i get up from my seat . feeling a surge of confidence and deciding to match his energy. “it’s better if i do this” i said before straddling his lap and adjusting myself on him .at the sudden movement he flinches and his eyes shoot to mine . widely in warning.

i’m the one smirking now knowing exactly what i’m doing before inhaling the blunt , taking a long drag not breaking the eye contact. i put my arm holding the joint out to side and putting my free hand on his jaw . i tilt his head up before closing the distance and blowing the smoke into his mouth .

he keeps the eye contact still , never looking away , but tilting his head upwards , exhaling the smoke and biting down on his bottom lip agains a smile threatening to form .

we stay looking at each other for a few seconds before he grabs the joint out my fingers , licking his own and snuffing out the half lit end . his teeth flash as he hissed at the pain. he throws the joint to the floor and looks back at me grabbing the side of my face .

“fuck that” is all i hear from his lips before they’re smashed onto mine . all most immediately it turned into a heavy makeout , him moving from kissing my face down to my neck. i throw my head back and move my hips on him slightly . his teeth graze my neck at the movement. his hand moves from my face , against my neck, his thumb pressing down on my throat slightly and a his other hand running from the back of my neck , down my back, to my ass . lifting me with the movement .

after a good few minutes we both pull away to get our breath , and to slow down the pace as neither of us felt like getting caught doing anything more then kissing on some random guys patio .

his nose was red and lips swollen . hair messily plastered to his forehead and raised at the back from my needy tugging .

“your number”he whispers breathlessly , nodding his head messily .

“what?” i say as out of breath as him , tilting it .

“i need your fucking number , and i need to do this again”

—————

HEHEHEHHEHEGGEHEGGEGE

god he’s so hot

🤍🤍🤍

taglst/bbgs

@mangosrar @jcwrites-blog @sssturniolofart @soursturniolo @sturnphilia @daddyslilchickenfingers @def-livv @urmyslxt @littlebookworm803

———

i am literally in shock from how many people are likeing my shit right now you are all the sweetest people ever . love every single one of your with all my heart .

#chris sturniolo #matt sturniolo #nick sturniolo #sturniolo triplets #sturniolo #christopher sturniolo #milkietalks #nicolas sturniolo #chris sturniolo x reader #milkie is down bad #matt sturniolo edit #matt sturniolo x you #matt sturniolo imagine #matt sturniolo x reader #matt sturniolo imagines #matthew sturniolo #send anons

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onmyyan · 28 days

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Out of all of your yans who handles "fights" with his darling the best and who handles them the worst (I know all of them would rather eat nails than fight with their darling but let's say the subject is something that they take really seriously and couldn't just let slide, like their darling's safety/their darling is doing something really reckless)

I love this ask, in order from best to worst

Caspian is the best with fights because he never leaves them unresolved, he knows you so well, so deeply, he can tell exactly what's wrong with you, and knows exactly what to say to make you forget you were mad in the first place.

Ricky comes in a close second, the only reason he doesn't take first is because his stubborn ass takes a bit longer than Cas to start kissing your feet, no matter the subject of the fight he doesn't let either of you leave the house mad or go to sleep angry, he's an excellent communicator and even better listener.

Ashley comes in third, he can be a little hard-headed but genuinely does his best to understand, he knows he's a big, intimidating man so if he gets real angry he'll leave the house for a bit to avoid scaring you, when he comes back he looks like a kicked puppy, the subject of the fight forgotten completely, overwhelmed by the desire to be holding you again.

Gabe comes in fourth because he's a little dumb and can sometimes take a minute to realize he's done something to piss you off, once he realizes it game over, falls to his knees and spends all day making it right, he's genuinely sorry and you can feel it in the way he holds you, how he stares.

Marcos is second to last because his ego and pride often get in the way, he will eventually come around, if only to get you talking to him again, he thinks he's right all of the time, comes with the territory of being a Scorpio, and it's semi infuriating, but eventually he always comes crawling back with his tail between his legs, a large bouquet of your favorite flowers and a blunt to say he's sorry.

Manny is the worst to get into fights with because Manny is scary when he gets mad, it's never at you, but his anger and seething hatred for others has caused a few fights between you, and while his white hot rage wasn't directed at you directly, it scared you, to know he was capable of being so angry, so hateful, so he's down here for that reason of course he can't stay mad once he sees that fearful look on your face, he's quick to switch his anger off and coddle you, cooing and holding your face softly, apologizing between kisses

#yananswers #anon submission #yandere #yandere x reader #yandere x y/n #delmont brothers #yandere oc x reader #caspian delmont #gabe delmont #ricky delmomt #marcos delmont #manny delmont

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astroboots · 1 year

Text

Don't they know it's the end of the world

Pairing: Joel Miller x female reader

Summary: There are many things Joel would like to forget, you hope you're not one of them.

Rating: Explicit. I just want to fuck old man Joel.

Content: hurt/comfort, explicit sex-town, cowgirl position yee-ha, post-apocalyptic angst and jazz. Mentions of death, blood and gore, but the real warning all along was emotionally unavailable men.

Word Count: 3.5k

Astroboot’s Masterlist

The thing that nobody warned you about living in a post-apocalyptic world (to use the dramatic phrase) is that when the world as you know it has ended. When an unprecedented catastrophe transforms the very fabric of your reality. In the midst of abandoned cities, dilapidated high-rise buildings overrun with moss and ivy, and rusted cars forsaken on the highway. This horrific new world of unending horrors, at some point, with enough days gone by, becomes common place.

After the first and second year, you're no longer bothered by the constant aches and how everything hurts, everywhere all the time. The new bruises that spring up overnight to replace old healing, because sleeping on concrete and dirt will do that to you, isn't as overwhelming. You barely mind the constant blunt ache in your lower back from unloading crates anymore. Or the way your feet are always blistering and covered in callouses that crack and split and bleed. It's all background noise.

After the third and the fourth, you're no longer dry-heaving at the burnt metallic smell of charred flesh and human hair that reminds you of melted and burnt plastic when they're tossed into fire. Your sense of smell dull to it.

After the fifth year you think that hollow feeling in your chest of missing home, is no longer a constant. At most it comes to you in glimpses. Because sure, there are a million and one things you still miss. The sweetness of cereal soaked in milk. The lingering smell of peonies from your shampoo after a steaming shower. The way your cat used you as a headrest while watching TV.

You miss cupcakes. You miss the cinema. You miss pumpkin lattes. You miss the forest ground covered in auburn leaves in the fall. You miss your mom. You miss--

You miss a lot of things. Small little things, and you remember each one of them despite the years that passes.

But the mind adapts. It doesn't consume you with a hollowness that makes you burst into tears at any given moment anymore. Humans are nifty like that. Our brains rewire to accept the new realities and life just goes on somehow.

You accept the military surveillance. Of men in vests and gear, wearing blank expressions, with rifles slung across their shoulders like it were backpacks, ready to use them at the slightest provocation if you so much as dared to cough in their presence.

You get used to cracking jokes about priests walking into bars, while burying your dead, not because you're unfeeling, or not understanding of the graveness of what you're doing, but because the human mind cannot be relentlessly scared and sad and depressed and unhappy without reprieve.

Instead like much else, that seems horrific and world-ending at first, it becomes background noise.

---

"Uno," you announce as you drop the last card in the pile of red, blue and green cards in front of him.

Joel scowls, that furrowed wrinkle between his brow carves deep with displeasure.

"You're cheating. I've never played this game where stacking is allowed. The correct rule is no stacking."

This again. You scoff. This topic of conversation comes up every now and then (everytime he loses in fact) because the two of you has solely been relyng on your memory to reconstruct the rules given that the manual to the pack of cards were lost long ago.

"I'm not having this argument with you again Joel, I've told you. The rules allow stacking, you're misremembering it."

You shake your head at him and smile. He doesn't smile back. He never really does. Instead he folds his arms across his wide chest, leaning back as he appraises you with skepticism.

"What if you've forgotten the rules?"

"I don't forget things, I'm not you" you say lightheartedly.

He's already passed out when you let yourself in through the front door tonight.

It's a sparse apartment, like all the other accommodations in the area. The mismatched dining chairs and fold up table is not much to look at, but there are still hints of the family who had made this place their home before they had to leave it. The feminine touch of flowery rose wallpapers. Scribbled markers of their children's height year by year. The claw-marks of a dog by the front door.

If Joel left tomorrow, you don't think it would tell much of a story of him or the life you lead together. The only thing that's his besides the radio and music catalog is the blue butterfly sticker that sparkles on the window.

And even with that, you don't quite know what story it is meant to tell or why he'd put it up. You only know it wasn't there when he moved it because it appeared out of nowhere after Tommy left. It clashes with the rest of the decor. Something that belongs to a young girl's bedroom and not a grumpy former veteran addicted to painkillers. It doesn't take a rocket scientist to put one plus one together and deduce it's something of sentimental value to him.

It's always confounded you, because that is so unlike the man you know.

Unlike you, Joel forgets. He makes it his mission to forget. Expired opioids from god knows how long, you're surprised they don't crumble into dust when they're exposed into open air.

There are horrors in his memories that Joel wants wiped clean, and he doesn't care if the good memories go with them, as long as he doesn't have to look at them in the broad daylight.

You never said anything about it, don't pry and you don't ask questions. You don't ask him for anything period. You just let him be and take him as he is. You suspect that that's why he's allowed himself to keep you around for so long.

The room is dimly illuminated from the night light has been left on for you, and you try to be quiet as you make your way to him on the bed. He's lying curled up on his side, back turned to you.

Broad shouldered as he is, with a build that reminds you of a bear at times, in this position, there's something vulnerable about him right now that's reserved for your eyes only. His face is no longer tense, against the amber hue that bathes the room. The specks of grey and white in his beard, soft to the touch.

He's half-dragged into consciousness as you dip your knee into the mattress, as he lifts the tattered, moth-eaten quilt and makes space for you.

Reaching behind you, you kill the light. Then you wrap your one arm over his waist, tucking one leg between his thick and firmer ones. He sighs into his pillow and leans into your touch.

There are things that you know Joel wants to forget, you would like to believe that this won't become one of them.

"Are you awake?" he murmurs against the nape of your neck. His voice is gravelly and worn with sleep.

You open your eyes and the world greets you with darkness. It's too early to be awake at this ungodly time.

His chest is pressed up against your back, warm and firm, and you hum in reply. "Barely."

You nuzzle into the scratchy linen of your pillow, inhaling deeply to relax back into sleep. But Joel isn't turning back around. He's still behind you, almost hovering above you as if he wants to tell you for something, but doesn't.

You raise yourself slightly, reaching over the nightstand to flicker on the small lamp there.

Turning back towards him, you observe him for a moment. The slight sheen of sweat pooled in the hollow of his throat. His eyes wide and alarmed, hands closed into a tight fist into the sheets. His whole body is wired for a fight, even though he's just woken up and it's dead quiet in the still of the night without a threat.

"Did you have a nightmare?" you finally ask.

His jaw tightens at your question, which is as good of an indicator as any that he doesn't want to answer. Also a good indicator that he did have one.

You sigh, reaching your hand back to trail the soft hairs at the back of his neck. Flattening the curly ends with your fingers, and trying to comb it down in a gesture to soothe him the way others used to do for you in a different life and another world. It's a mistake.

He flinches at the touch, and stiffens awkwardly in front of you. Like he's trying to decide what's the right next course of action. To apologize or to turn back around and pretend he didn't do what he just did.

You frown at him, but say nothing. You give him the time to find his words.

"Can we just--" he starts, but his words trail off, eyes barely meeting yours. Silently pleading for you to know what he's asking for so he doesn't have to put them into words.

Joel doesn't really do softness. Doesn't accept comfort. Doesn't trust it.

But there are things that he wants, because he's only human after all. A touch, a warm body to lose himself in, a human connection. It's what everyone of us wants.

But he can't ask for it. Can't say it.

The moment he puts words it, he would have to name it. What this thing is, between the two you that you have. Where at the end of the day you return to his apartment. Where you sleep in his bed. Where he worries if you don't.

If he asks you for this, then he can't pretend there's nothing there anymore.

So you don't say anything. You don't needle him into finishing his sentence. Don't ask him what he means. You don't ask him for anything. Instead you nod.

His face shifts, the stiff crease between his brows smooths in relief and he scoots forward, chest draped flush against your back. He's already hard, the familiar thick girth pressed to your tailbone, like it's trying to carve a permanent dent into you.

"Is it okay?" he asks again, rolling his hips and the newfound pressure against his denim-covered cock has him breaking off with a gasp.

"Yeah Joel. Yes it's okay."

His fingers come to the hemline of your jeans, as he roughly shoves at it in the dark. It catches at the dip of your hips, and you can hear the gruff impatience of the man from behind, as he yanks it down further. As if sheer brutal strength is going to be the solution in here, the way it is outside these walls.

You lift up your hips to help him, long enough for him to slide the jeans off your legs and you can kick them to the floor. Vaguely you try to estimate the distance to where they landed. Because that's where you'll have to pick them up in the early morning before he gets up. But that doesn't matter right now.

There's a scuffle behind you of rustling denim and the metallic clink of a buckle being undone. You reach back with your hand against the softness of his belly, down the sparse trail of fine coarse hairs until you can wrap your hand around his hardened cock.

He shudders in relief. A soft sigh into the back of your neck as he grinds against your back, demanding more. You indulge him, swiping your thumb in a circle over the head of him. There's a sharp intake of breath from him, similar to the sound he makes after taking a swig of shitty whiskey that burns his lungs too sharply.

The indication that it's too much, and therefore just right, because it's only then that it's a relief. An escape from the current reality.

You squeeze down again, fingers wrapped firm around the thickness of his girth not allowing him any reprieve, and he thanks you not in words, but with the way he bares his throat as his head throws back in ecstasy.

For Joel, the old world never ended. Never left. He's still trapped in it. His existence now is a purgatory. He treats it like he's just sitting in a waiting room, as the days and years go by. Everything and everyone in it are transitory. Nothing in the room matters.

His hand shoots out, sliding down the bare skin of your stomach and wedges underneath your panties. One broad thumbs presses down on your clit perfunctory, and still it feels so good. Sharp heat licks your spine at the touch, and your eyes flutter close as you lean back into him.

It's brusque, the way Joel's hand comes to your thighs and spread you open for him. Unrestrained the way his fingers parts your slick folds to collect the wetness he finds there, pressing into you and curls with a familiarity when he knows he's reached that perfect spot that makes your vision whiten. Rough in much the same way he is in every other part of his life.

"Fuck, get up here," he orders gruffly.

You roll over and he wastes no time to roughly grip onto your hipbones and dragging you up his body.

Bracing your arms on his firm chest to steady yourself, you settle yourself with your knees pressed into the sides of his ribs. They're dipped into the worn-out mattress and you think you can feel the springs of the bottom of the bed dig into your kneecaps.

It's a bit uncomfortable, but you don't mind. Because you get to straddle him this way. Get to see all of him, underneath you, on display. His bare skin made golden and soft by the dim light of the night lamp.

He doesn't look like the movie-stars of old. But Joel is handsome. There's no doubt about that.

Despite his rough masculine features, there are details that don't quite match up. His lips are plump and soft, inviting. A deep crease in the curve of his bottom lip that is just begging to be kissed.

Even with the significant grey in his thick hair, and the white in his beard, the weathered look suits him well. As does the fine lines on his forehead, and the ones around his eyes.

Smile lines, an old friend of yours had called them. Does that mean he used to smile? You imagine how he must've looked like in those days. Not constantly frowning or scowling. But smiling so hard that it would make his eyes crinkles. How beautiful and carefree he must've been.

In front of you, there's no trace of that man. His jaw is set, grinding his teeth, with gritted impatience as his hands grips onto your waist and pull you forward, towards and over his cock, positioning you right where he wants you.

His hand reaches behind you, and even though you can't see it from this angle, you've seen it plenty times before to know how good his cock looks fisted in his hand, as he uses your slick, still wet on his fingers to spread it over the length of him. Then you feel it, the fat tip of him nudging against your entrance as he slowly slips inside.

A heady anticipation fills you. It shakes the core of you until it makes your thighs tremor visibly as you straddle him.

Joel is rough. He is unrestrained and brusque, but he is not unkind. Or at least you'd like to think, not to you. He steadies you, one hand still on your hip, the other a flat palm against your lower belly, as he slowly lifts his hips as you sink down on him in unison.

The first thrust always knocks your breath away. Pleasure that warms you inside out in a way that standing in a fire fails to. It fills you anr nourishes.

You drop down the rest of the way until he's as deep as he goes, until he hisses sharply again, in that tell-tale sign that it's, too much and just right.

Your chest glows with pride, and you grind down against him to elicit another noise, this time a chocked grunt that's not nearly as satisfying. But the buzzing warmth that spikes your veins more than makes up for it.

You stay there for a moment, savoring the pleasure that simmers along your spine, until Joel opens his eyes, his fingers digging a bit deeper into the plump flesh of your thighs.

"Fuck," he grumbles, "please move."

You don't deny him, you never do. Not with this, not with anything. Rising on your knees, you feel his cock drag inside you and close your eyes at the sensation until only the tip of him rests inside you. It's a slow, dragged out pace. One that Joel doesn't seem to have any patience for.

His hand around your hip wraps firm and he pushes down at the same time as you can feel him thrust upwards, until he's buried as deep as he goes.

Fuck, you feel like you can't breathe. Didn't know you could fit so much of him.

Your eyes fly open, to the sight of him, thick brows knitted in pleasure. He looks gorgeous like this. Lost in pleasure, no longer buried in a grave of regrets he can never climb out of. Mouth parted as he gasps out at the feel of you wrapped around him. You stare at his spit swollen lips and all you can think of is how you want to kiss this man. Press your lips to his and feel the full weight of intimacy of this shared moment with his arms wrapped around you.

You anchor your arms on his chest, leaning down closer to his face, hovering above his lips and it's like he can sense you. His eyes flutters open as he meets your gaze.

You wonder what it is he sees in your eyes. If the want and depth of your feelings for him are so plain to see. Because he looks at you like he's terrified.

You don't kiss him.

You drop down your hips again, as far as he goes, and his eyes squeezes shut again, both of you choosing to forget what preceded it. An unrestrained moan rips out of him and to your ears, and though he's not saying any words, it's almost like he's thanking you for forgetting.

You ride him and it's rough and there is no rhythm. He meets you with every thrust, deep and fast, like he's racing for the end.

The hand on your belly, pushes down firmer, and the pressure does something to you. The simmer of pleasure turns to an inescapable heat. It climbs up your veins and invades your ribs with it.

You come around his cock and the pleasure is punishing, a slam to your ribs that squeezes down on your very lungs. It flattens your vision, until you're disorientated with it and you nearly fall off. But Joel doesn't stop. Continues to fuck up and into you. Harsh and reckless thrusts.

Pleasure is written over every line of his face, teeth gritted as he keeps his eyes closed to you. You feel him swell thicker in you, and you know he's almost there.

With a harsh hiss, his hand on your waist, lifts you up and off of him. His freed hand comes to his cock and wraps around it. Swollen and glistening with your wetness, as he fists himself with frantic strokes.

The chords of his neck strains, and then he comes. Line after line after line of his release, coating your stomach with the warmth of him.

You're both breathing hard and fast, made louder by the silence of the room at this hour.

Joel doesn't say anything and neither do you. Instead you reach over to the nightstand to kill the light, enveloping you both in the familiar darkness.

You lay back down against the mattress and roll to your side. There's rustling noise besides you and then Joel's hand comes to your stomach, cleaning up the mess he made of you with a corner of the sheets.

---

You wake up before dawn breaks. When it's no longer dark but the sun has not had time to rise above the skyline.

Dipping your foot onto the grimy wooden floor, you walk towards the very spot your jeans had been tossed aside last night, and put them on, as quietly as you can so as not to wake Joel.

You cast one last look at him where he's lying in the same position you found him when you'd let yourself in last night. On his side, curled up, vulnerable.

Then you gently pad across the length of the living room and let yourself out of the apartment, closing the door slowly until it gently clicks.

Someday, when this version of the world is over and one of you leaves. You hope that you get to miss him.

a/n: to be notified of new writing updates follow @astroboots-writes and turn on notifs 🤡💖🤡

#joel miller x reader #joel miller #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller x you #pedro pascal #the last of us #tlou #tlou fanfiction #tlou hbo #tlou fic #tlou fanfic #cici writes

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poeticandors · 2 years

Text

Soft Touches

Steve Harrington x F!Reader

Part 1 of the TOUCH series

Summary: You and Steve Harrington have been friends for so long, and he finds out that you have never once pleasured yourself. He takes it upon himself to help you learn just how to do so.

WARNINGS: 18+ Content (Minors DNI), sexual language, sexual content, masturbation (Female with male assistance), fingering, cursing

Not my GIF

The hand on the clock seemed to be moving slower and slower the longer you stare at it. There were only a few minutes left until your shift ended, but you had been counting down the seconds the moment you clocked in to work. Did you hate your job? Not necessarily, it gave you money you needed for school and rent, but it wasn’t the greatest. From a not so great manager, to asshole customers, it was hard to actually want to be at the video store.

“Enjoy your movie, have a nice night.”

You glance over to the counter, seeing your coworker and friend, Steve, hand over some change and a video to a customer. It was actually Steve who helped you get this job. Not that you needed the help since everyone who comes in practically gets hired on the spot, but you still appreciated him doing so.

The man quickly takes the video from Steve, and you happen to notice the slight flush on his cheeks as he tries keeping the cover of the box hidden against his chest while walking out of the store. Thinking nothing of it, you turn back to your task of reorganizing the shelves.

“Jesus, this is the fourth time that guy has rented that fuckin’ movie.” Steve shakes his head, stretching his arms up.

“What movie was it?” You ask, returning video cases back to their original spots on the shelves.

“A fuckin’ porno, that’s what. He’s come in four times in the last few weeks to renew his rental on that same one!”

“Gross,” you scoff, finishing up with your task before walking over to the counter. “Remind me to disinfect that when he brings it back.”

“I mean, watch whatever porn you want, but at least broaden your horizons, or whatever shit it is they say.”

“You act like you’ve watched those films before.”

“Yeah? Haven’t you? Oh, wait–I forgot you’re a little prude,” Steve teases as he ruffles your hair.

“Asshole,” you huff, trying to ignore the comment.

While you wouldn’t call yourself a prude, you were definitely inexperienced when it came to sexual intimacy. Not that you didn’t want to have sex, you just… never found the right person. It didn’t bother you one bit when people came in to rent those types of films. You just never found any interest in doing so, plus you wouldn’t know what to do while watching one. It just seemed like a waste of time.

“So?”

“So what?” You look at Steve as he leans across the counter, now eye level with you.

“Have you watched porn before?”

The question catches you off guard a bit. In reality, it shouldn’t because it was coming from Steve, and after knowing him for years he could sometimes be a bit blunt and straight to the point. No, it catches you off guard because of the way Steve looks at you. The way his brown eyes bore into yours as he patiently waits for you to answer the seemingly intimate question. It’s as if he truly wants to know your answer and isn’t just teasing.

It wouldn’t be the first time Steve has asked you questions like this one. He knows that you haven’t had much experience. Knows that you’ve been on a few dates with guys who were total douchebags, but never went any further than a kiss or two, maybe even a feel up here or there. He never fully judged you, though. Teased you, yes a little, but never outright judged you for your lack of experience.

He’s also told you about his past endeavors, however. Never too much detail unless you asked which, sometimes you would. He would answer every single question you had without an ounce of judgment. With Steve, it was easy to talk with him.

You become nervous, suddenly aware of just how long he’s been staring at you while you try to come up with the words to respond.

“I, uh… huh?”

“Have you… watched porn before?” He asks, articulating each word slowly as he repeats the question.

It takes you a moment to realize how close his face is to yours, his nose mere inches away from your own. If you truly wanted to, you could easily press your lips to his. But you wouldn’t do that.

You couldn’t do that.

“...No. No, I’ve never watched… porn before.” Your voice comes out almost as quiet as a whisper.

Steve scans your face and is quiet for another few seconds, before he pushes off the counter. You trail him as he flips the ‘open’ sign over to ‘closed’, before making his way towards you, and taking your hand. The action shocks you, even though it shouldn’t. You’ve held hands with Steve before in a playful manner and it has never once felt strange to you. For some reason, this feels different. “Steve, where–”

“We’re just going for a stroll past the beads,” he answers nonchalantly, pulling you along towards the backroom.

Your eyes widen, and you try pulling from his grasp. “Steve, seriously–”

“You don’t have to rent any of them. We’re just going to take a look, babe.”

Babe, honey, sugar… You’ve heard practically every pet name come out of Steve’s mouth. It was just how he talked with you, and you never took any of it seriously.

The beads lightly clink against each other as Steve pushes them away, and you’re now left standing in the small room with shelves filled up with the raunchy films. It wasn’t as if you hadn’t ever been in here before, it was part of your job to put the films back, take inventory, and make sure that it was organized correctly.

“Steve, seriously. What are we doing back here?”

“Just here for a look.

“I come in here to organize, I know what it looks like–”

“No, we’re actually going to look, honey. Not just quick glances, and not for work.”

“But why? I don’t watch any of these–”

“Exactly. Now you’re catching on,” he grins, letting go of your hand as he reaches for two videos. “What do you think you would be into more?”

“Damn it, Steve, we need to get out of here before someone comes in.”

“No one is going to come in here. We’re closed now, remember? I flipped the sign.” He motions with one of the videos in his hands.

He was right. Technically, you were closed as of… five minutes ago. Plus, it wouldn’t be weird if two employees were in this room. You really just wanted to hurry and leave and not think about how close you are to Steve in this small room and the fact you can smell his shampoo while surrounded by a bunch of porn films.

But why should those details matter? You’ve definitely been close to Steve multiple times and never have you once felt this awkward. There were nights after a party that Steve would be so drunk you would have to help him get out of his clothes and since he only slept in a single pair of pajama pants, you’ve definitely gotten an idea of what he has to offer to other girls. You’ve shared beds when you would stay the night after those same parties, too. Not to mention, he literally spends most days being clingy with you–keeping his arm around your shoulders or little touches here and there. Big bear hugs and small kisses on the cheek or temple were normal because you were friends, and friends did that sort of thing, didn’t they?

“So? Take a look at these two. Honestly, I feel like this would be right up your alley.”

“And how would you know?”

“Because I know what you like,” he shrugs.

“That’s bullshit. Even I don’t know what I like, Steve.”

“Oh, come on,” he places the videos back on the shelf before turning back to face you. “I know you don’t watch porn, but you must have an idea on what you like. Right?”

You stay quiet for a moment. The truth was, you did not know what you liked. You never once tried getting yourself off, mostly due to the fact you were nervous you would do it all wrong. Steve leans against the shelf with his arms crossed and head tilted slightly as he waits for an answer.

“...Holy shit,” Steve lets out a small laugh. “Seriously? You’ve never masturbated before?”

“Steve–”

“I mean, I knew you never had sex, but I at least didn’t think you were that much of a prude to not get yourself off.” Steve snickers, but you don’t react in a way he probably thought you would have.

Jaw tight, you shake your head as you take a step back. “I’m leaving. You can lock up, Steve.”

He calls your name as you swing the beads out of your way and storm out of the room. Heading to the back, you grab your bag and keys from your locker before slamming it shut, and leaving. You continue to ignore him as he calls for you, walking straight to your car, and throwing your stuff in the back before getting in and driving off.

You don’t even know why you’re so upset, you should be used to Steve’s teasing by now. Something just set you off this time, and you weren’t sure what that was. Whatever. You would have a nice relaxing day at home, considering your family just went out of town and you have the day off tomorrow. This would give you time to be alone with your thoughts, and forget about what just happened with Steve Harrington.

Or, so you thought.

++++++++++

It felt nice having the house to yourself. While you still lived at home, you agreed with your family to pay rent until you found a place of your own since you were in college now. It seemed a fair trade… you guess, but there were times you would be lucky to have the house to yourself such as tonight. Your plans for tonight consisted of dinner, a good book, and perhaps a movie if you were feeling up for it.

Your phone kept going off the moment you arrived at home, and you absolutely knew it was Steve trying to get your attention. He hated when you wouldn’t talk with him, and was almost always the first person to cave and vye for your attention, considering you were one of his closest friends. You ignored each and every call, almost deciding to unplug the damn thing just so you could get some peace and quiet. After a while, the ringing eventually stopped, and you were grateful that Steve finally decided to take the hint.

Lying on your stomach while in bed with your feet propped up, wearing an oversized shirt and pajama shorts, you flipped through the pages one by one through your current book. With your walkman on and music blasting through your headphones, you almost didn’t notice the sound of your window scraping as it lifted, and you quickly gasp as you see a figure standing in the dark. Steve stumbles inside, catching himself before he hits the ground as you stare at him, yanking your headphones off.

“Steve, what the hell?” You huff, as he fixes your window sill and closes the window.

“You weren’t answering your phone. I got worried.” He dusts himself off, before looking around your room. He strolls along the carpet, acting as if he had never stepped foot once in his life when in reality, he is here almost every week. “Parents not home?”

“No, and I didn’t answer the phone because I didn’t want to talk to you.”

“Yeah, yeah,” he waves you off, plopping on the bed next to you as he snatches your book away. “So this is what you are spending your night alone doing, hm?”

“Give it back–”

You try reaching for it, only for him to hold it further away. Letting out an annoyed breath, you lightly shove his arm.

“This is boring. You could be watching a movie or something.”

“I was planning on doing that after I finished this chapter, thank you very much.” You pause, looking at him. “Steve, what are you doing here?”

“I told you. I got worried when you weren’t answering your phone. Plus, I wanted to hang out. I brought a few things for us to do.”

Before you can ask, he tosses your book onto the floor before reaching down into his backpack. He pulls out a few of your favorite snacks, along with a few movies from Family Video. Frowning, you look at him as he grins. “Movie night.”

He tosses the movies in front of you as you freeze. You recognize them as the two Steve had picked out from the backroom, along with a third. Glancing up at Steve, you hand them back.

“Very funny, Steve,” you huff, looking away from them.

“Just hear me out before you kick me to the curb, sweetheart,” he kneels in front of you, taking your hands. “Look, I know I was a dick for what I said back at the store. You can hate me all you want, I don’t blame you. But… I had an idea that I think you might like.”

“If you’re going to suggest watching these films–”

“That’s exactly what I’m suggesting. Damn, you must be a mind reader or something, huh? Get out of my head.” He grins.

You shake your head. “You’re insane–”

“Look, all I am saying is to just watch at least one. Broaden your horizons and shit, remember? Maybe this will help you get laid or something.”

“Jesus, Steve.”

“Listen. You don’t have to do anything. It’s just a movie, and I can sit and watch it with you, okay? Maybe this can help you come up with some fantasies or something later after I’m gone. Get you in the mood.” He bounces his shoulders up and down as he winks.

“Let me get this straight. You want me to just sit and watch one of these movies to… come up with fantasies?”

“...Yep, exactly!”

“Fantasies to do what, though?”

“To get off, of course. So you can make yourself feel good.”

Your throat becomes tight, and it’s almost as if you have forgotten how to breathe just for a moment. Steve wanted you to watch a porno just so you could pleasure yourself. The look in his eyes tells you that he is completely serious, and is being sincere. Why he was doing this, you didn’t really know the answer to that yet other than he claims he wants you to feel good.

Clearing your throat, you look away. “And… What are you going to be doing while we watch this?”

“Sit next to you and watch along, eat some popcorn,” he shrugs. “We’ll just be watching it, nothing more.”

He takes his spot back next to you, as you glance at him. “So? What do you say? I’ll pop the movie in and we can sit back and relax. If you get uncomfortable and don’t want to continue, I’ll turn it right off, and we can do whatever you want. Sound good?”

He’s saying all of this as if he just asked to watch a regular movie instead of a porno. Like it was the most casual thing in the world to ask and that you weren’t absolutely mortified at the idea.

“…You promise we can turn it off?”

“Scouts honor, babe,” he holds one hand over his heart while raising the other.

Pulling your bottom lip between your teeth, you finally agree with a slight tilt of your head, and Steve grins.

“Alright, I’ll put it on. You just sit and relax— wait. Which one do you want to watch?”

The excitement in his voice isn’t hard to miss, and you find yourself biting back a small smile.

“Whichever one you think looks best, Steve,” you scoot back against your headrest, as Steve grabs one of the videos and fumbles with the VHS player.

You couldn’t believe you actually agreed to this. What were you thinking? Watching a porno and with Steve, nonetheless. Steve grabs the remote and plops right next to you, your arms brushing together as he gets comfortable.

The movie starts, and your room soon fills with horrible jazz music that is supposed to be sexy. You scrunch your nose, but lean back as you watch the first scene play out. The main woman comes out wearing nothing but a robe which is left open, revealing her perky breasts, and she bends down to rub lotion along her long legs. You cross your arms across your chest, suddenly realizing that you discarded your bra the moment you came home.

If Steve notices, he doesn’t say anything. He’s kept his eyes on the screen, and you can’t tell if he is just bored or trying to keep his cool. You don’t realize you’re watching him until he looks down at you, and you quickly turn your attention back to the screen.

“You might want to pay attention to this part,” he comments, as you look back at him.

“What for?”

“Because this is the scene where she touches herself.”

“…Have you seen this?”

“I mean, just this first part. I wanted to see if you might like it, first.”

He takes his finger and turns your cheek back so you’re facing the screen again. On it, you watch as the woman drops the robe to the ground, settling onto the bed as her manicured hands roam along her body, squeezing her breasts and sliding up and down her torso. After an anticipating few minutes, she finally trails her hand down between her legs, her fingers slowly teasing her folds for a moment before going back up to her neck, while the other hand brushes just under her breasts.

Your breath hitches slightly, and you find yourself entranced as you watch her pleasure herself with just her hands. Could you really just sit and do that to yourself? Your mind wanders at the possibilities, and you find yourself extremely sensitive to everything surrounding you. The moans released from the woman go straight to your core, sending a shiver throughout your entire body. You are aware of the way your nipples tighten, brushing just barely against the fabric of your shirt– of one of Steve’s shirts that you borrowed long ago and never bothered to return. You try ignoring the slight moisture that builds up between your thighs, and try straightening your legs to cross them over one another, which only seems to heighten the feeling.

Not only that, but it suddenly dawns on you how close Steve is to you. His arm stays pressed against you, a warm and familiar sensation that you never thought anything of before. His breathing stays even, that much you can tell even as he watches this scene play on. The scent of his soap surrounds you both, and you realize he must’ve taken a shower first before coming to see you.

“See that? See how she uses her fingers?” He says after a moment, and your eyes stay on the screen of your television. “You can do that too, you know. You can do that to figure out what you like.”

“Mmhm…” you respond, not trusting yourself to use actual words.

“...Do you want to try?”

You quickly turned to face him, seeing his eyes directly staring into yours. “Wh-what?”

“Do you want to try touching yourself?” He repeats, his voice now a low timbre.

“...Steve, I don’t think–”

“I don’t care if you do. This is all for you. So you can make yourself feel good.” He continues looking down at you, and for a moment you think he glances down to your lips before moving back to your eyes. “If you don’t want to, you can say no.”

You swallow thickly, trying to ignore the way his words send tingles throughout your entire body. There he goes again, saying this is to help you feel good. For someone else, they might think that was just a way for Steve to get to see their tits. But to you… you really do believe he is not truly pressuring you and being sincere in trying to help you give yourself some sort of pleasure and excitement.

So, you only halfway catch yourself by surprise when you agree with a small nod.

“Alright, come here.”

Steve shifts over, moving you to sit in front of him, his legs on either side of you as he pulls you to lie back against his firm chest. Again, this isn’t something new to you both. You’ve sat in this position before watching movies, usually with Steve massaging your shoulders or even when you just needed to hug, and he would be willing to hold you close like this.

This, however, seemed so much more intimate.

He gently runs his hands soothingly up and down your arms, as if sensing your nerves and trying to help you relax. You feel the rise and fall of his chest as you lean back against him, and the warmth of his breath as he exhales each time.

“This okay?” He asks, his voice soft, and you respond with a nod. “Good. Whenever you feel like you want to touch yourself, go ahead. I won’t do anything but sit here, okay? I promise.”

You don’t realize just how dry your mouth is until you try to speak, only for you to find yourself unable to. Trying again, you clear your throat and lick your dry lips.

“Where, uh… I don’t… what should I do?”

“Whatever feels good to you, honey.”

“But, what if I don’t know what feels good to me?”

Steve pauses for a moment, before he slowly reaches down for your hands, and brings them up. “For starters… you can just run your hands along your body.”

He takes one of your hands and places it up by your neck, making sure your fingers lightly brush your skin before placing the other along your torso just under your breasts, and pulls his hands away as you leave them there. “Take it nice and slow. Barely brush your skin with your fingers and slowly make your way down.”

With your throat tight and heavy, slowly begin moving your hands around almost awkwardly. It was almost hard to feel good when you were pretty much touching over your shirt. Sure, with a faint brush against your nipples it did sort of feel good, but it was nothing compared to what the woman on screen was probably feeling. You become almost frustrated, and drop your head back against Steve’s shoulder.

“It’s not working.”

“That’s because you’re thinking too much. Don’t think, just touch yourself.” Steve rubs your shoulders, trying to loosen the tension building up.

“It’s hard to do so when this shirt is in the way,” you huff, closing your eyes.

“Then take it off.”

Sometimes, you just cannot understand how Steve’s mind works. The way he suggests taking off your shirt as if it’s not a big deal at all? Mind boggling to you. You look over your shoulder at him, seeing a completely serious expression.

“Steve, I can’t just take off my shirt.”

“Why not? You said it’s getting in the way,” he says, as a matter-of-factly. “If it’s not relaxing, then take it off so it can help you relax.”

You hate that he’s right, but still. “I’m not… I mean… I don’t have a bra on.”

“That’s fine. If you’re comfortable being shirtless, then do so. If you want to try and then realize it’s still not helping, then you can put it back on.”

Steve removes his hands from your shoulders, and you almost find yourself aching for him to put them back. Maybe he was right. Maybe it would help to just take off your shirt. Even if he is here, Steve is your best friend. You trusted Steve. Why were you overthinking things like this?

Finally, you push yourself up as you discard your shirt and toss it to the floor, before slowly leaning back against Steve. You keep your arms folded across your chest, and you look up at Steve. He simply smiles, before placing his hands over yours.

“Now… try again.” He moves your hands back in place where they were before, his voice low as he talks just above a whisper in your ear. “Watch what she does on the screen, and copy her. Or don’t. Whatever feels good to you, you’ll know.”

You turn your attention back to the screen, and begin to mimic her movements. If she trailed her hand up to her neck, you did the same. If she brought it down to graze against her nipples, you also did so. You experiment by lightly pinching and rolling each nipple between your fingers, only to find that you really enjoyed the feeling. You find yourself leaning further into Steve, who shifts against you. When he does so, you try not to think about how hard his bulge feels through his jeans against your lower back.

You try, but ultimately fail.

Feeling him pressed against you only makes your pulse race, and you soon realize he also has his hands back on your shoulders. He doesn’t move them, almost keeps them there as a bit of support as your hands continue to explore your body.

You decide that you really enjoy the feeling of touching your breasts, so you go back to that. With each squeeze, tug, and feather light brush, you soon feel the dampness begin to grow between your legs. Just like the woman on screen, you begin to slowly trail your hand down to your shorts. You stop just short, realizing that you are about to touch yourself down there. Not only that, you are about to touch yourself down there while Steve sits right behind you, getting a one-man show to all of this. What could possibly be going through his mind as he watches his best friend do all of this?

“S-Steve–”

He places his hand over yours as you try pulling it back. “Don’t stop, baby. I know you were feeling good. Keep going.”

“But, I… I don’t know what to do.”

“Sure you do, sweetheart. You were just making yourself feel good all on your own,” his cheek is lightly pressed against yours as he whispers to you, keeping your hand in place just before your waistband. If he really wanted to, he could easily press his lips to your cheek, and you try shoving that fantasy deep down.

“I just…”

“Do you need some help?” He asks, and it feels like the air has been knocked out of you. Steve was offering to help you touch yourself. Down there.

“I… are you–I mean, I couldn’t ask you to do that–”

“Sure you can. Go ahead. I might just say yes,” he chuckles lightly, his thumb brushing along yours as he waits.

His big hand stays on yours, waiting for permission to continue. You almost forget how to breathe; imagining that hand a few inches lower, rubbing between your legs while you press yourself back against his chest. His fingers circling around and around before he sticks his fingers–

“Well?” His voice breaks you from your trance, and you let out a shaky breath.

You look over your shoulder to him, your lips mere centimeters from his own. He doesn’t move, though, and neither do you. Your eyes trail up from his mouth, up to his dark eyes as they stare directly into yours.

“...Okay.”

“Okay, what?”

“...I want you to help me. Please.”

“Help you… what?” The corner of his mouth quirks up in a teasing manner, trying to get you to elaborate more on what exactly it is you want him to do.

Licking your lips, you look up at him through your lashes, your voice soft and pleading, “I… I want you to help me feel good. Please.”

A low groan releases from the back of his throat, but he tries to cover it up as he clears it.

“I can do that. Yep. Totally.”

He keeps his hand on top of yours, and begins to move them both under the waistband of your shorts. You look down, watching your hands disappear under the piece of clothing– a shiver trailing down your back.

“Open your legs, baby,” he taps your thigh with his free hand, and you bring your legs up, feet flat on the mattress, and knees bent as you slowly bring them apart. The pads of your fingertips move lower and lower, and you release a breath at the soft graze against your most sensitive part.

“Oh…” you sigh softly, feeling Steve shift behind you, his hard cock more evident against you.

“Feel that?” He whispers, and the low husk of his voice practically sends your thoughts into haywire. “That’s where you want to try to touch the most. But not just yet…”

He slowly circles your fingers, barely applying any pressure as he guides you before soon moving your fingers down even further, until they meet the wetness of your pussy. He runs your fingers up and down, having you carefully explore yourself.

“You want to tease yourself. This is how you make yourself more wet.”

A shaky breath escapes you, and you find yourself relaxing more and more against Steve. There’s a throbbing between your legs that almost hurts in the most delicious way, and you’re not sure if it’s due to the fact that you’re being touched there, or that it’s because Steve is the one helping you. He has your fingers teasing your wet hole, not quite pushing inside, but enough to let you know that you wanted more.

“You can even stick your fingers inside. Since you haven’t done this before, do just one,” his lips brush against your cheek. “I can feel how wet you are, so it should slide right in. Might feel a little awkward at first, though… but it’ll feel good the more you do it, baby.”

You let out a barely there whimper, and you’re not sure if Steve heard you or not, considering the moaning of the woman on screen slowly begins to fill the room. But the movie was long forgotten, all you could think of was the way Steve’s lips felt as they brushed against your skin when he whispered directions to you and how much you just wanted this ache between your legs to relieve itself.

Steve maneuvers your hand so that you are now slowly pushing one finger into your pussy. He was right, it did feel uncomfortable right away. It wasn’t a sensation you were used to, and part of you wondered if sex always felt like this and you were slowly starting to second guess yourself. But Steve made sure you kept your finger there, moving it in and out slowly with whispers of praises.

I got you, baby.

It’ll feel so good, watch.

You’ll love this.

The words coming out of Steve’s mouth only make the sensation between your legs practically unbearable and before you know it, you’re automatically curling your finger as you try to ease the ache. A soft moan escapes, and you’re quick to cover your mouth but it’s too late. Steve had heard.

He lets out a breathy laugh, keeping his hand in place while the other keeps hold of your shoulder. “Oh, that felt good, didn’t it?”

Nodding, you feel him lower his head until his lips brush against your jaw, and you find yourself tilting your head.

“Keep going, then,” he presses a light kiss to your jaw. “Go on, honey. Make yourself feel good. Let me hear you moan.”

“Fuck, Steve…” you whine as you close your eyes, moving your finger again at a smooth rhythm. You find your hips trying to lift up to meet with your finger each time you push it inside, and you slowly begin to lose yourself that you don’t realize the way Steve is watching you.

With his hand still on top of yours, he has you pull your finger out, and moves your fingertips to your clit, swollen with the need to be touched.

You gasp, following along with the movements of his fingers. Steve presses closer against you at the same time you push back against him, and he lets out a deep groan, which only sets you off even more. You feel so fucking good– you never knew that this was what you were missing out on.

“You make such pretty noises,” Steve whispers. “Do you feel good?”

“Yes– God, Steve,” you mewl, starting to move your fingers faster.

“I can tell. You are fucking dripping all over my fingers, sweetheart,” he pants softly, his lips parted against your cheek. “Want me to keep helping you out?”

“Please…”

At this point, you don’t even question if this is what should be happening between you and Steve, because suddenly he brings the hand off your shoulder to grab one of your breasts, and you feel like you could explode from pleasure right then and there. He massages it, first soft and then a little firmer, and all you can do is moan because fuck, you like the way his big hand feels on you this way. His thumb brushes against your nipple, and all the thoughts in your head are just gone because he is touching you just like you were earlier, as if he watched you do so the entire time. You didn’t even mind that Steve was touching you like this–his warm hand was tranquil and soothing, his touch a drug you were slowly becoming addicted to.

The movements of your fingers circling your clit, Steve’s hand doing wonderous things to your tits, and the feel of his lips against your skin causes a wonderful feeling to build up within you.

“Oh, Steve… I-I… oh fuck–”

“I got you, baby. Just let go, fuck… listen to how wet you are.”

Steve starts to move both of your hands even faster, and you hear the wet sounds of your fingers moving around your pussy. The sound is practically erotic. His other hand pinches your nipple, and you’re not sure if you’re just lost in the lust of everything but you swear you feel him sloppily kissing your neck. Even the image of him doing so is stuck in your mind, and you feel yourself tipping over the edge of the precipice as you finally come undone.

Moaning loudly, your back arches against his chest as your legs begin to shake, and your pussy clenches onto nothing. White flashes behind your eyelids and you swear you see stars and feel them rattling down your spine. Steve keeps hold of you, still playing with your chest while making sure your fingers still move. This time, you’re certain he is kissing your neck between soft praises.

Yes, there you go.

Fuck, your moans are so pretty.

I got you, baby.

Baby.

Falling slack against him, Steve soon sits back against the headboard, pulling you with him. His chest also rises along with yours, and you stay against him as you slowly come down from your high. Foggy brained, you slowly blink your eyes open and take in your room. The ridiculous jazz music from the porno plays again, and you completely forgot it was even on, too lost in your own lust-filled event that just took place.

You finally realize that Steve’s hands are still in place, and it seems he does as well because he suddenly pulls them away. You become aware of your naked chest, and even though Steve was literally touching your chest mere minutes ago, you find yourself suddenly shy and cover up with your arms.

“Oh, here,” Steve reaches down, grabbing your shirt as he holds it to you.

“Th-thanks.”

Slipping on your shirt, you move from between Steve’s legs to sit next to him as he clicks the remote, and the tv turns off. The silence hits both of you like a wave, and you feel as if you are stuck underwater as you both try coming up with something to say.

“So, what’d you think?”

“Huh?” You look over at him as he motions to the tv.

“The movie. Did you like it?”

“Oh, um… I mean… it was okay.”

“Yeah, it was actually pretty shitty,” he shrugs. “This shit isn’t nearly as real as it seems. Or as good as the real shit.”

He looks down at you, his cheeks slightly flushed and pupils blown. You happen to glance down, and see the way his dick presses against his jeans, begging to be let out and touched. While you had no idea really what would feel good for Steve, part of you was dying to try to make him feel the same way he had helped you.

“Um… do you… I mean, do you want–”

“Nah, don’t worry about it. I can take care of that when I leave. Which…” he looks at your clock, stretching his arms over his head. “It is kinda late. I should probably get going. I know you have to open tomorrow.”

“Oh, right,” the disappointment in your voice confuses you. You weren’t sure if you wanted Steve to go or not.

He stands up, fixing the front of his pants before running one hand through his hair. He looks around, grabbing the different tapes he brought before getting the one out of your VHS player.

“I could leave these here for you if you want. You could use them before you go to bed, help you relax,” he smirks.

You roll your eyes, before shaking your head. “I’ll be fine. Thanks, Steve.”

He lifts his shoulders up before he grabs his bag and shoves them inside. Before he walks to your bedroom door, however, he leans across your bed, and presses a quick kiss to your cheek.

You freeze, only to remember that Steve was always one to depart with a kiss on the cheek, temple, or forehead. He’s done this to you plenty of times. It doesn’t mean anything different. But… you can’t help but think maybe this one kiss is just a little different than the rest.

“See ya, sweetheart.”

With a final grin, Steve departs from your room, and you wait until you hear the closing of the front door to finally let out the breath you’ve been holding. Your mind races–recalling the events that just occurred on your bed moments ago.

You just had your first ever orgasm.

With Steve Harrington helping urge you on.

You think about the soft touch from his otherwise rough hands, and how they guided you through your pleasure. How his lips felt against your skin, and the way his breathing sounded as it fanned against your ear. While thinking about this, your hand soon begins to trail right back down under your waistband.

That same night, you had your second ever orgasm.

#steve harrington x reader #steve harrington #steve harrington x f!reader #steve harrington x female reader #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington smut #steve harrington x f!reader smut #steve harrington fic #steve harrington gif #stranger things #stranger things fic #stranger things gif #joe keery

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luxesiren · 1 year

Text

⸻ 𝐁𝐄𝐓𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐍 𝐇𝐈𝐌; a.arlert x black reader

ෆ synopsis: you were unsatisfied with your latest hookup and armin claims that he is actually better than him and he could fuck you way better than he could.

ෆ warnings: black fem reader, thick/chubby reader, uses she/her pronouns, use of profanity, mentions of smoking, weed smoker!armin, sex confident!armin, smut warning; oral sex (f! receiving), fingering, slight degradation, dirty talk, multiple orgasms, creampie

ෆ author’s note: this is fully self indulgent bc yknow armin brainrot🤭 i literally cannot get him out my head so i made this lol, hope you enjoy!

you were sitting on your couch with armin right beside you and you were telling him about your less than satisfactory hookup, “i just don't understand why it’s so hard to make me cum like i’m so frustrated, this is the fourth time this has happened.”

armin chuckled as he rolled up the blunt you guys were going to smoke, “you just have shitty taste in men.”

you scoffed at his response and rolled your eyes at him, “i mean, it could be that but as any decent man would think about letting whoever he’s fucking cum first.” you reasoned with an aggravated shrug.

armin could’ve been right but at the same time, it was so easy to care about the sexual pleasure of your partner, you always came to armin to vent about your sexual frustrations thinking that he could give you some good advice but he always had that smug ass grin on his face.

you watched as he licked the blunt to seal it and maybe, you could’ve been very horny but something about how he moved his tongue to seal up the blunt made your insides ignite. he lit up the blunt, inhaling some of the smoke before passing it to you, you took it between your fingers and brought it up to your lips, and took a drag of it, your lip gloss staining the blunt.

“you’re right. any decent man would make their partner cum first before thinking about themselves, that’s why i’m a decent man.” he chuckled smugly.

you rolled your eyes at his comment and took another hit of the blunt before passing it to him, you could already feel the high getting to you, “right, you’re a decent man. you mean to tell me that you could make me cum before you cum?”

armin nodded as he inhaled the smoke, he blew the remaining smoke out and turned to you with a smirk, “yeah, baby. that’s exactly what i’m saying, i could probably make you cum more than once too.”

at this point, your pussy was throbbing with need. armin was confident in whatever he was saying and you wanted him to prove his point, you bit your lip as you looked down at your lap. you wanted him, you wanted armin so fucking bad.

you and armin have known each other for a long time and for a while he was never this confident in his sex life but now he seemed to know what to do with his tongue, his dick, his fingers — so maybe you wanted to see what it was like. he was always smart and nerdy but now he was a whole different person.

armin smoked the blunt carelessly as you just stared at him in awe of his attitude, it was something attractive in the way he carried himself now and you wanted to know just how many times he could make you cum tonight.

so deep in thought, you didn't see him move closer to you, you just felt his hand on your thigh, his hand squeezing gently and his breath fanning your neck. “whatcha thinking about, mama? hmm? tell me.”

you bit your lip in hopes that no sounds would come out, your eyes rolling in the back of your head at his words. maybe it was the fact that you were high as fuck or the fact that you were very much aroused from the sound of armin’s voice. “you’re so confident in making me cum so why don’t you do it?”

armin smirked and squeezed your thigh tightly, he passed you the blunt again. you took it and put it between your lips inhaling more smoke, you wanted to know why he just passed you the blunt again instead of making good on his promise.

as you took another drag of the blunt you felt his lips on your neck, you just sat there enjoying the attention. his lips were soft and skilled, you knew this just by how he was kissing your neck — his hand trailing up your thigh and caressing softly as he started to suck on your neck. you bit your lip, swallowing at moans that threatened to come out; this was already new to you, none of your hookups cared to make you aroused, they just wanted to fuck you and leave which is why you were so unsatisfied.

maybe armin was right about you having shitty taste in men. you finished off the blunt before putting it in the ashtray, your breath getting heavier as armin’s tongue started to lick at the marks he already left.

he pulled back with a smirk, “any of your fuck buddies do that?”

you shook your head no and he laughed, “i figured. they don’t know how to fuck and they certainly can’t fuck you the way i could.”

the moan you let out was loud and embarrassing but armin just bit his lip and kept going, he started to manhandle you into laying down so he was on top of you. you brought his head down to kiss him with ferocity, his lips fully encased with yours, almost like a perfect match — fitting together like a puzzle piece.

his hand moving to your tits and fondling them through your tight tank top, you weren’t wearing a bra and armin was grateful. your nipples were hard against his hands as he groped and played with them.

you moaned into the kiss as his hands roamed your body. you started to realize something about the way armin was moving his hands and all of his movements; they were gentle. he touched you as if you were priceless china and fuck, if that wasn’t a turn on,

your tongue tangled with his, your hands finding his shoulders and holding on tightly. you were both high as fuck but this? this was a new high, your pussy was leaking just from his tongue being in your mouth and his hands massaging your tits. how the fuck could he make you like that? you didn’t know but you couldn’t find time to care either.

armin pulled back and you whined at the loss of his skilled tongue exploring every corner of your mouth. his smirk gone and his eyes blazing with arousal and excitement, you were losing your mind at the thought of this armin making you cum.

your eyes met his and he smiled, “how many times do you think you could cum tonight?”

your head was fuzzy, and any other thoughts were nonexistent. armin tsked and grabbed your face gently, “i asked you a question. how many times do you think you could cum tonight?”

you whined loudly, he was so much different than usual and it made you wet behind belief, “shit, min, i don’t know.” his hand left your face and you let out a breath.

he took off his shirt and threw it somewhere across the room, your hands immediately went to his abs. his hands grabbing yours and placing them above your head, “keep those there, yeah?”

you couldn’t do anything but nod your head, his hands moved underneath your shirt to feel on your titties. you arched into his touch pushing into his hands, “feels good, min.”

“yeah?” he smirked. his fingers playing with your nipples making them hard, he leaned down and kissed your body, licking over your stretch marks. it was single-handedly the hottest thing you’d ever seen, his gaze focused on you when you looked down — your eyes locked and it was almost like you could cum from that look alone.

his hands left your tits and moved to take off your jogging pants and toss them behind him, “look at you, moaning and writhing under me like a little slut”

you whimpered softly and wiggled under his gaze, you were so wet and it was embarrassing how your closest friend could make you this aroused. “you gonna make me cum like a slut then?”

armin playfully shrugged, his head went between your thighs, his hands squeezing them hard before slapping your thigh. you arched and moaned loudly, armin was fucking sinful in the way he was handling you and he hadn’t even done anything major yet.

his tongue licking your clit through your panties, his groan settled in your core as he licked on your clit. his hands caressing your thighs as his tongue flicked and sucked at your clit through your panties.

“oh f-fuck, armin. f-feels so good, mmph!” you said with a whine. maybe you shouldn’t fucked armin from the beginning.

his hands felt on the lace of your panties before removing them and placing them in his pocket with a smile. it was fucking sadistic in the way his eyes locked with yours as he placed your underwear in his pocket.

but you didn’t care, not with the way his tongue returned to your clit and it was so much better without the piece of cloth in the way. broken moans and whimpers were the only things to be heard in the room.

it was an understatement to say that armin’s tongue was skilled, he was a fucking linguist with the way his tongue made your pussy wet. your hands flew to his hair and pushed his face into your cunt, his lips sucked at your folds and he was moaning and groaning into your pussy.

your eyes rolling to the back of your head. “FUCK! min!! goddamn it!”

you could feel his smile, he pulled back and kissed your inner thigh before his lips latched onto your sopping wet cunt again. it was almost embarrassing how you could hear the slurping noises but it was also so fucking hot how he ate you out like you were his last meal.

your thighs trembling around his head, you could feel your resolve starting to snap — the pleasure building higher and higher, his tongue still moving with no regard. he pulled back again to spit on your cunt and lick up your juices, his eyes locked with yours once more.

your eyes almost closed from his intense gaze but you kept looking at him, your mouth releasing nothing but countless moans and whimpers as he took you apart. all it took was one last suck on your clit for you to cum in his mouth.

your back arched, your toes curled as you let out a long drawn-out moan. you let go of armin’s hair and he gave your clit one last suck before pulling off to catch his breath. his jaw ached but it was the best kind of ache in the world — he wiped your cum and remaining juices off his chin.

“that’s one. you think you can do it again? i think you can.”

you couldn’t even respond, you just let him do whatever to you at this point. so when he put his head back down and started small kitten licks on your clit again you could help to buck in his hold, his hands on your waist as he started again.

“min, m’sensitive. oh fuck, fuck, keep going.” you whimpered loudly.

he pulled off to slap your clit, smirking at your broken moan before holding his fingers to your lips, “suck, baby.”

you took his fingers in your mouth and your tongue ran over the digits and moaned around them as armin never took his eyes off you.

you were starting to understand why armin was so confident that he could make you cum more than anyone before him because this man? he was a fucking god and it was unbelievably attractive. his bangs sticking to his forehead from sweat and eyes glassy and his pupils dilated, he looked so fucking good.

he pulled his fingers out and kissed you deeply, automatically entangling his tongue with yours — distracting you from his fingers entering your cunt and thrusting shallowly. you mewled in his mouth as his thumb circled your clit slowly, your legs starting to shake again.

armin looked at you and then down to your pussy, “you know what i love about your pussy? your pussy seems to like me more than any of the other guys. tell me, does your pretty pussy suck them in? hmm?”

“no, min. never, f-fuck. never does,”

he hummed silently. “your pussy is better than all the others i’ve indulged in.” he grinned and thrusted harder, curling his fingers perfectly and just enough to make you see stars.

your thighs closed around his hand as he kept thrusting his fingers inside of you, your hand grabbed his wrist but you weren’t sure if you wanted him to stop or keep going.

you tossed your head back and moaned loudly, his thrusts becoming relentless. countless moans and mewls escape your lips and you licked your lip as you felt another impending orgasm sneak up on you.

the knot in your belly tightened and armin kept doing what he was best at, making you speechless. his thumb rubbing your clit while his fingers continued to take you apart, the build-up was almost painful but then you felt it again — the need to cum.

and so you did, one last flick on your clit and that was it. your cum oozing out around his fingers, leaving a white residue on his fingers. he pulled them out and licked his fingers clean all while looking at you.

you rolled your eyes and tried to catch your breath, armin laughed softly, “so did i meet your expectations?”

“huh? oh yeah. where the fuck did you learn that?” you sighed and tried to keep your eyes open.

“i can’t tell you my secrets.” he said with a wink.

~~~~

of course, armin didn’t tell you his secrets but of course, you went back to him whenever you were horny and needed some relief.

so that’s how you ended up on your back with your legs touching your chest and screaming nothing but his name.

“fuck, i love when you scream my name. you gonna let the neighbors hear you?” armin asked.

his hips snapping against yours and his balls hitting your ass, the deep strokes making your toes curl and your eyes roll back. his dick was covered in nothing but your cum and juices, he made you cum three times before he fucked you but now that he was fucking you? it was better than anything.

your pussy clenching around his dick tightly, sucking him in deeper so you could feel him in your stomach — slightly touching your cervix, making you cum again.

“AHH! armin! fuck, deeper, just like that..” you moaned out, your nails digging into his skin as his nails dug into your hips. grunts and groans were the only sounds coming from armin and you were enjoying all of the sounds.

he went deeper, watching his dick go in and out of you, seeing the white ring surround him, and hearing the sounds of your wet cunt sucking him in and not letting go.

“your pussy is mine, you know that right?”

you nodded, tears running down your cheeks as he continued to fuck you, “yeah, i know, baby.”

he smiled devilishly and this time when he moved his hips faster it was to make you cum again for the fourth time. your legs started to shake and your toes couldn’t curl anymore but the pleasure was something different.

it was dizzying, he was fucking you like there was no tomorrow — you would definitely be walking with a limp just like every time he fucked you.

his hands gripped your thighs tightly as tried to make you cum, his bangs sticking on his forehead before he moved his hand to push them back.

you were tired. you don’t know how you kept going, this time when you finally came, it wasn’t as extraordinary as the other ones but armin did pull four of them outta you.

your legs gave out and armin moaned loudly as his hips stuttered before coming to a full stop as he came inside you, he always made you come first and that was always his thing ever since he claimed that he was better than all your other fuck buddies.

and he was.

🏷: @phorxic @h34rt4u @takemichiluvr @angelora @blkcupid @si00p @norianao @venusflytrapstar

#✭ siren writes #aot x reader #armin x black reader #armin x reader #armin arlert #armin attack on titan #armin arlet smut #armin brainrot fr #armin headcanons #aot x black reader #aot smut #aot fanfiction

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turtleblogatlast · 19 days

Text

Thinking about the Don Suave scene and what it means in terms of LGBTQ+ representation because my brain does nothing if not torment me with random topics to ramble about on the regular.

Anyway, I just wanted to ramble about why I like the scene but to get it out of the way - the scene can very easily be interpreted in so many different ways, and all of them are valid. I personally see it as Leo having at least some attraction to a man. And the following is an explanation of my own interpretation and thoughts on it and what it means especially for Leo’s portrayal in the grand scheme of things.

Long-winded interpretation under the cut!

Now, to start with, it’s important to me that in the scene Leo looks at Don Suave in the very beginning and then for the entirety of the rest of the time the man is on screen, Leo’s eyes are closed. Yet, in the end, he is still visibly enamored with Don Suave, happily cuddling up to him as he’s being carried away.

You can very easily interpret this as Leo being spellbound and that’s honestly super valid and I believe he likely was at least somewhat in the beginning, but considering how fast he looked away and how he never looked again, I personally think it makes more sense to read it as Leo just finding the man attractive, at least somewhat. (For the record, I personally headcanon Rise Leo as bisexual with a heavy preference for men, but I want to be blunt when I say that any interpretation is valid. Literally any. Ace, pan, gay, bi, none of the above or a mixture of something new literally all of it is more than okay and fair. Hell you could even interpret this entire scene as more romantic attraction than physical and it would still work. Anything goes!! Don’t bother people, guys, really.)

The main reason I take this scene to be at the very least LGBTQ+ adjacent isn’t just because of how it’s portrayed, but because of who Leonardo is. Not in terms of Rise of the TMNT, but in terms of the entire Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles™️ franchise.

Leo’s a character who, while changing with each iteration, has still at his core been around for decades upon decades as “the blue one”. One fourth of the team. He’s the one most are going to look at as the Leader, and oftentimes he is the one closest to having the title of Main Character. Not to say the others aren’t just as important, but Leo’s presence in the A plots of basically all TMNT media is often something very main character-esque.

And that’s very, very important to note. Here we have a Main Character of a prolific and decades long-running franchise distributed by a children’s television network. You can play around with his and his brothers’ characters all you like, but there is always going to be challenges to dodge around, especially since this was still in 2018-2019.

For example, you can play around with their designs so long as they’re color coded turtles, but their sexualities? Now that’s tricky.

“But what about Hypno and Warren?” Not main characters and also they’re Rise originals. They have a lot more room to play around with than a character like Leo does. But even talking about main characters in the franchise, you could arguably have an easier time playing around with Donnie or Mikey’s sexualities than Leo or even Raph, as (unfortunately) the former two tend to get more B plots, so they’d likely have had a little more leeway (still not a lot though.)

So, where does this leave us?

It leaves us in a place where outright stating and/or showing undeniable proof of Leo’s attraction to men is very, very difficult. So, workarounds!

Workarounds like the entire Don Suave situation.

To be honest, as left up to interpretation and lowkey and deniable as it is, this whole scene means a lot to me because of who Leo is as a character. It’s just nice when we get so see even the bare bones of representation with characters that have been such a large part of pop culture for decades, y’know? Even if more would be so much nicer, this is better than I thought we’d ever get for these boys.

And, again, literally nothing I’ve said is the only way to interpret it, I’m more than happy when people interpret media on their own honestly, it’s just something I’ve been thinking of lately and I was wondering if others felt the same way.

Whatever you think when you interpret this scene or Rise Leo as a whole, I just thought this would be interesting to think about, even if it was ramble-y, haha.

#rottmnt #rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles #rottmnt headcanons #rottmnt leo #rise leo #rise don suave #rottmnt don suave #I lied I’m back to ramble because I’m just #so bad at keeping my mouth shut #or uh #not typing word vomit #anyway- yeah this is my personal interpretation #I believe Leo was legitimately mesmerized by Don Suave’s powers…in the beginning #but even the series’ creator says it was ‘at least PART of what was going on with Leo’ so #idk it’s something that’s been on my mind and I was wondering if anyone else felt the same??#may delete this later who knowssss #pleaaaase feel free to disagree I just like to talk lol #but yeah sometimes I look around at how much media has LGBTQ+ rep in it now and it honestly makes me emotional??#(we always always ALWAYS could use more but)#we did not have even a crumb of this as kids #but also like most of that rep is new properties #and I just was thinking about what that could mean #idk man idk #once again please don’t take this as facts it is VERY MUCH NOT #man I was looking around for good images to use and found jack all #anyway tho did you know Donnie often has bi colors around him and Leo is often dressed in the colors of the trans flag-#okay anyway back to the caves I go this comic won’t draw itself #I gotta spray myself with water any time I go to type long winded essays because they’re not great for the mental health fr

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kairiscorner · 10 months

Note

For the I/atsv drafts:

14!

well hello hello again @sabcandoit >:) CONSIDER IT DONE !!

so imagine,

the atsv babes: when you lose your glasses

miles would probably see you at school as always, walk up to you and greet you a good morning, only to have you looking around, confused and restless, as you're muttering to a locker. "hey," he'd begin in the not-so-rizzing-up way and smile at you with his big, sweet smile as he looks at your back that's turned to your fidgety figure. "oh, hi miles." you say as you look at a mop erected on a clean up bucket by the janitor's closet. miles chuckles as he turns you around gently and holds you by the shoulders. "hey, quit playin', i'm over he--oh." he said in two starkly different tones as he sees your confused expression, your eyes seeming a lot smaller without those glasses that framed your cute face. you squinted to get a better look at miles, and you finally realized it was him. "oh, a cute baby deer is in front of me, i walked into a mystical forest, not school." you joked, and miles chuckled. "lost your glasses again?" he asked, to which you sighed and nodded. miles chuckled yet again, he loved you a lot, but you had a tendency to be a little scatterbrained. "oh, what would you do without me, chiquita?" he teased you as you pouted. he opened his locker, where there were photos of you two decorating the back of his locker's door, and with some of your stuff with him; notebooks, folders, pencil cases and books, and of course, your spare glasses if you ever lost your main pair. he handed them to you with a slight eyebrow raise and pout to match your expression. "for you, mi amor." he gestured so gallantly as you playfully rolled your eyes. "you practicing your spanish on me because of our test later, or because you want to impress me?" you quizzed him as you put on your glasses, him laughing a little at your bluntness. "come on, can't your boyfriend call you his one and only, linda?" he asked you sweetly as he took your hand. "you look really pretty with your glasses on, and even when they're off... i can't take my eyes off you."

gwen would have thought that a few lowlife bullies stole your glasses when she caught you in between periods at the hallway, wandering about, your hand extended in front of you slightly as you tried to weave your way through the crowd. gwen rushed over to you, knowing how bad your eyesight was, she was worried you'd bump into someone or something. she took your hand as she called your name, and you stopped. recognizing that voice, you turned your head to look at a fuzzy image of light blonde hair with light blue blobs on a face that looked distortedly concerned. "oh, hey gwinny." you said awkwardly, hoping it was gwen. "hi, where, uh, where are your glasses?" she asked you, to which you laughed nervously at that, scratching your cheek all the while, trying to come up with the right way to say it. "i... left them at home." you admitted. gwen sighed. "this is the, what, third time this month?" she asked as she held on to you tighter. you chuckled again. "ah, fourth time, actually." you corrected her as she shook her head and cracked a smile. "you can still read my handwriting, right?" "takes a while to register since you write your 'b's and 'p's so similarly, but i can manage. thanks, gwinny." you thanked her as she playfully hit your arm and smiled. "you owe me a tutoring session tonight for this."

pav would not have realized you needed glasses until he noticed how close you were to the papers that were posted on the bulletin board when he came up to you. "whatcha reading?" he'd ask you as he crept up towards you, and you'd've yelped a little in surprise, unsure who was in front of you until you saw a blurry shape of his signature hair. "now either it's spider man or it's just you, pav." you remarked sarcastically as pav grinned at you. "come on, don't kid around, you know it's me! spider man's not as dashing as i am, you know." he said. "sorry, you're just really blurry right now." you muttered as you rubbed your eyes. he tilted his head to the side. "blurry? wait... do you need glasses?" he asked, to which you perked up and looked at his direction. "...yeah." pav nodded as he leaned closer towards you. "well that explains why you keep leaning over to my side when we're in class, copying notes." he said as he brushed your hair off your face and smiled radiantly at you. "i've got you, though. i'll be by your side all day, i'll help you out as much as you need me to!" he beamed. "man, i really do wanna see you in glasses, though. bet you'd look super cute in them, and, oh, to have me pushing them up on your face when they're about to fall off..." he teased you as you blushed and pouted at him. "in your dreams, prabhakar." you spat at him as he chuckled.

hobie would have been slightly confused as you kept looking at the ground as you walked, and hastily looked up and around, waving your hands around as you tried to tread your way through the rows of people walking past you. he rushed over to you, concerned about what might've come over you. "you alright? you seem a little uncomfy." he asked you with a tone of slight worry as you looked up at the tall boy, making out a blurry image of his wicks and his dark skin as he placed his hand on your shoulder. "oh, don't tell me you got your lenses nicked off you." he said with a small smirk. you shook your head. "they weren't nicked, just... i lost them last night, and now i have to get replacements." you said with a sad sigh. hobie chuckled. "what's your eye grade?" he asked as he took your hand in his own larger ones. you blushed at the touch but cleared your throat to answer him. he nodded and smirked wider. "y'know, you could get yourself some replacements, go ahead, it's your personal liberty; but i'd... i'd like to make you some custom frames, courtesy of your beloved hobart. what do you say?" he asked as he leaned closer to you. "i'd... like that a lot." you admitted. "wonderful. now, let me make sure you don't stumble over your own cute little feet." he said as he lifted you up and carried you in a bridal style manner, out of concern you might bump into someone or something, of course.

a/n: HOBIE AND MILES KAKSKDJDJDKDFHFOFNFJDKKSNDKDLD

tags !! @k4tsu3 @pixqlsin @luvstarrstruck @fictarian

#atsv spiderman #atsv x you #atsv x y/n #atsv x reader #miles morales #atsv gwen #gwen stacy #hobie brown #hobie brown my beloved #atsv hobie #atsv pavitr #pavitr x you #pavitr prabhakar #gwen stacy x y/n #miles morales x y/n #hobie brown x you

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eshithepetty · 1 year

Text

LISTEN. I KNOWWW that the polls haven't even started, but I'm impatient, ok, I'm just putting this out there now cause I can't take it..... anyways - I've seen people do powerpoints as a way to campaign for their blorbos in the various polls that have been going on, so!! I thought I'd do one of my own for the @autismswagsummit ^^ as I simply can't pass on any chance to be brainrotted over this series, it seems...

ID under cut, as it's very long!

[ID: a powerpoint presentation campaigning for Mob from Mob Psycho 100. It's formatted in dark purples and pinks.

The first slide is the titlecard, differing from the main slides by having a pink holographic aura, like the ones from the show, as the background. The text says:

"#MOBSWEEP 2023

Aka why you should vote for Mob in the upcoming autistic swag summit. Please

(JK follow your own heart ^^ but for your consideration:)"

The second slide is titled: "Who is Mob, aka Kageyama Shigeo?" and below the text lists:

"Source: Mob Psycho 100, which is also where Reigen comes from;

The protagonist! Only with background character syndrome (which is why he’s named ‘Mob’ – it’s kinda like naming your protag ‘John Doe’ lol);

A 14 year old with the psychic strength to destroy the world. Which he’s not very happy about actually;

Cause really, he’s just a nice, gentle boy who simply wants to improve and impress his crush by getting swole :) Oh, and he also experiences the horrors. Btw."

On the right of this text, there are two images: One is a zoomed in screenshot of Mob, his face blank and confused, and the other is an official art of the show, depicting Mob in the center, aura glowing, with many of the show's other characters around him, with the show's title at the bottom of the image.

The third slide's title is "Ok but tell me more about the autism", and below, the text says:

"Gladly ^^

Ok, first off – symptoms:

Bad at reading social cues, detecting sarcasm, lies, etc.;

Struggles with recognizing/expressing emotions. Has what could be called psychic meltdowns;

Very honest and blunt, sometimes appearing ‘ruthless’ as a result;

Explicitly low empathy, in that he can’t feel what others are feeling;

Actually very compassionate, and follows a really strict moral code;"

There are no images in this or the next slide.

The fourth slide is a continuation of the previous, with the text being:

"Abnormal reaction to sensations, but instead of overreacting, he underreacts, rarely responding to physical touch and disturbing imagery. Has shown to be at times sensitive to loud sounds, however;

Prefers following a routine. One of his biggest conflicts with Reigen literally arise from the man often calling him out of the blue and making him suddenly adapt, which Mob finds really annoying/upsetting;

Struggles in school. Explicitly bad at math, japanese and PE (really passionate about the latter tho), which could be for a variety of reasons, autism related conditions (like dyscalculia/dyslexia/dyspraxia) being one of them;

Has felt like an outcast for most of his life. Even if he grew up in a pretty loving environment, he recognizes that he is different to others, and people sometimes treat him as such (in a /neg way);

His main arc is about overcoming trauma and… just masking (and how to stop doing it), pretty much, lol."

The fifth slide, in contrast, is mostly just images, placed upon a white background. The title for this one is "Alternatively, just look at him:"

The images, from top to down, and then left to right, are:

Three cropped subtitles out of screenshots of the show, which say:

"I'm sure I just got the wrong idea again. How embarrassing."

"He's detached from urban legends, fads, and other hot topics among people."

"You just can't lie, can you?"

The fourth is a cropped screenshot of Mob's explosion meter. Both in Japanese and English. Specifically, it says: "Progress towards Mob's explosion: 92%". Additionally, there is an annotation above this image, saying: "Literally has a meltdown meter ksfdks"

In-between these and the next column of images, there is also a transparent image of Mob, him standing stiffly, faced towards the camera, his standard, blank expression with a small smile on his face.

The next column of images goes like this:

A screenshot from the show, done in paint on glass, of various kids towering over Mob, who's standing in the middle of the image, small. Their expressions wary, from sneering, to frowning, to looking disgusted. The subtitles at the bottom say, with one part blocked out due to spoilers: "[spoilers] didn't treat me any differently even though I could use psychic powers."

Next two are cropped dialogues as well. They say:

"This version of him was created from being suppressed and locked away."

"Social skills like that are beyond you."

And on the right of the slide is one vertical image, showing one of Mob's books, with the subtitles translating the Japanese title of the book as "The Proper Way of Reading the Room". Next to this one, there is also an annotation, saying: "He has a book on learning social cues :’)" That's all for this slide.

The sixth slide is titled "Is he good rep though?" Text below is:

"Well, to answer the first thing relevant to this question… no, he’s not actually confirmed canon autistic. But c’mon.. it’s so obvious. This kid is not fucking allistic like c’monnnn

Of course, what people consider good and bad rep is gonna vary from person to person. But to explain why a lot of people see him as very positive rep:

"1) He’s the main character, so he gets the most spotlight, and the narrative is formed around his pov, in that we only see things that are relevant to Mob, and visually things are often represented in the way Mob sees them as well (take the body improvement club or Tsubomi, for example), which puts all viewers soundly in his shoes and makes him easy to relate to and sympathize with, and makes it clear how important his emotions and view of things really are;"

On the right of this are 3 images against a white background. The first one is a screenshot of the Body Improvement Club - 5 very buff and large dudes - standing against an explosively red and yellow background, with all of them enthusiastically flexing. The caption below that is "The body improvement club! ...they're supposed to be middle schoolers lol".

The next two, below the first one, are two screenshots of Tsubomi. The one on the left has her smiling, her eyes wide and bright, the background being pastel pinks and yellows. The one on the right, however, has her frowning, the background turned black, her eyes dark and disinterested. The caption below says: "Tsubomi :) And how her design subtly changes alongside Mob’s view of her".

The seventh slide is a continuation of the previous, with the text being:

"2) He’s a very well rounded character, with well thought out strengths, flaws, motives, and his overall story is very cohesive and satisfying; 3) His autistic traits are portrayed neutrally – in both where they help, and where they can cause conflict. It balances between him learning what things he would benefit to address and deal with, and what things he shouldn’t be trying to change at all, and as the whole message of the show emphasizes – he is no more or less special than anyone, no more or less of a person – he is simply human, and his autistic traits are just part of what makes him himself."

This one has images next to it as well. The first one is a screenshot of Reigen looking towards the camera (at an off-screen Mob), hand to his chin, eyebrow raised and smiling, some food crumbs still stuck to his face, as he says: "Today you happened to save some people that only you could have saved." Next to it is the annotation: "Reigen reassuring Mob about how his inability to read the room and feel empathy actually can be a huge benefit sometimes :)"

The next image below is a zoom in of Mob's face, his eyes shadowed by his hair, the scene's lighting dark, as he says: "I'm not being mocked, nor am I easily taken advantage of." The annotation next to this one says "Mob learning to recognize his emotions and assert himself better as the story goes on!"

And the last two images is a screenshotted dialogue, saying "You don't think changing yourself for someone you love is natural?" "I don't. At least, not when we're talking about [spoilers]" (The last bit is blocked out again).

The eight slide is also a continuation. The text says:

"4) He is loved. Loved by his friends, his family, his allies… even most villains come to take a liking to him. In fact, he’s something I haven’t seen many autistic characters be – he’s admired! So many characters, and even viewers of the show I’ve found, really admire him and want to be more like him. And not because he’s a perfect person, or super smart or anything, but because he sincerely tries his best. And I just really appreciate that, personally,, 5) And more than just loved, he is accepted – the whole main arc and the resolution of his story centers around that, around how important it is to feel accepted by the people around you, in all your entirety, no matter how strange or destructive you may feel yourself to be. And how you need to come to accept yourself in the same way as well. I just think that’s a really sweet in a story centering around a neurodivergent person :’)"

And the images next to it are as follows:

A screenshot of dialogue from the show, saying: "At first glance, Mob may seem unreliable, but his strength is undeniable." The annotation clarifies with: "The ‘strength’ in question, in this case, being Mob’s ability to reach out to people ^^";

A screenshot of Teru placed against a blindingly white background, him grinning widely, looking down, eyes shining, as he says: "I knew it, you really are amazing!". Next to him, there is a small caption of "Lol gayass /pos";

And a screenshot of Mob, in the bottom center of the image, small, as he is surrounded by various characters. Most of them are smiling encouragingly, with the ones closest to him, like Reigen, Ritsu, Dimple, Teru and Tsubomi, being bigger and placed in the front. A small caption at the top says: "He has so many friends and allies ueueeueueue.."

The ninth slide is titled "Additionally:" and the text lists:

"Psychic powers as a metaphor for being nd/othered, if that suits your fancy;

His design is iconic and versatile;

The boy has. Issues;;

There are many other characters in mp100 who can be read as autistic. Not a single neurotypical in this show /hj

Mob has more than just autism swag. I’ve seen people with bipolar disorder, ADHD, anxiety and those who are plural (etc.) also relate to him :)

He is simply the Boy ever"

Next to the last line is a small, low quality image of Mob smiling from the manga. The rest of the images, on the right, are:

The meme "I can be your angle....or yuour devil", with images of Mob instead - on the left, him smiling brightly and blushing, placed upon a colorful magenta background, and on the right, a panel from the manga: Mob in one of his explosion states, surrounded by fire, face shadowed, hair pushed back by his powers and waving in the air, and his eyes, wide and eerie, being the only features on his face that are visible.

On the right of these images, there is a smaller one, of Mob in another one of his explosion states (the one from episode 3, season 1 of the anime). He is facing to the side, aura surrounding him, hair pushed back by his powers and his eyes a glower. His pupils are red.

Below these, there are three images of, in order, Serizawa, Tome and Ritsu. Serizawa is sweating, nervous, Tome is sweating even more and yelling into a phone, and Ritsu is simply glaring towards the camera. The annotation pointing to them says: "A few of the other autistic blorbos in question :] (as I personally see them at least)".

And the last is a panel from the manga, of Mob sobbing, tears and drool dripping messily down his face, his hair waving in the air. His expression is somewhat blank despite the clear distress, and the text boxes next to him read: "His tears won't stop. It's an emotion he has never experienced before."

And the tenth, final slide, is formatted the same as the titlecard with the pink aura background, and says:

"Thank you if you got this far <3

Have good days everyones, and remember, the true win for autism is the fun we had along the way :]

Buh bye!! ^_^"

Around this text, there are various images of Mob. Counter clockwise, starting at the left corner:

A low quality screenshot of Mob flying in the air;

Mob, in his puppy hoodie, sweating in distress as he points at a vase;

Mob caught mid smear frame, his leg kicked high in the air as he jumps, his school bag swinging to the side, his expression comically flustered.

A panel from the manga. Mob's eyes are shadowed, chopsticks held to his face, as he stares to the side and says "Tch... Shut up and eat.";

A Mob in an alleyway from the anime, smiling, pointing and looking up and to the left (the center of the slide);

A photo of a Mob plushie tucked into bed;

A low quality screenshot of Mob, standing against a wire fence, facing forwards, his eyes appearing a bit angry due to his hair cowering them.

End ID.]

#autismsummit2023 #mob psycho 100 #mp100 #kageyama shigeo #autism swag summit #tumblr polls #autism #powerpoint presentation #I tried to keep this relatively spoiler free ^^ also feel free to ask me to elaborate on anything in this #trust me im ready to ramble whenever sjdfgsj (bearing in mind that im not busy at least)#though. tbh thats not That much of an excuse bearing in mind that i definitely did this in place of my real responsibilities 😳 oops #can you blame me though. its literally The Autism poll cmon #my own post #described #the id took like 3 hours to write.. ough. desperately hope theres not any mistakes in there

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