#my simple strength boy | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

thegnomelord · 4 months

Note

this isn’t a request but you’re the only writer i know who writes the monster!au so

dragon!reader and dragon!price are haunting my thoughts. dragons usually have to hold themselves back when sparring because they’re so much stronger than other monsters but with price & reader they don’t need to, to the point where the other members of the 141 are kinda wondering if they need to intervene.

what they do or don’t know is this is you and price courting, testing each other’s strength to assess whether you’re suitable mates. once you have decided you’re suitable it continues in the bedroom, fighting for dominance and testing each other’s stamina as price rides you or you pin price down and see if he can take all the strength behind your thrusts.

OH god I LOVE the way you think! I know @rodolfoparras also did a dragon price some time ago but I'm happy to let my monsterfucker out lol :D I'll consider this a spitball thingy but GOD DAMN did my hyperfixation hyperfixate on this :Ddd kinda rushed at the end but it's 3AM :/

CW:NSFW

What about if dragons measure not just raw strength, but all other aspects as well? They're prideful by nature and with so little of them remaining no self-respecting dragon will settle for a witless brute or a powerless scribe.

Price had lost hope in finding a mate centuries ago because he's even pickier than most of his kin; in his view, a proper one needs to be strong enough to completely pin him down, needs to be smart enough to see the insults in his honeyed words and give back as good as he does, needs to be clever enough to lead men as good as he does.

A proper mate needs to keep up with him on all levels.

And for a dragon of his age, that's an unachievable set of criteria. Oh sure, many of the dragons he's met over the years have tried to match him, but all fell short, leaving him lonely and unsatisfied.

Then he met you, a fellow Captain, a fellow dragon. Though only a few centuries younger than him, you're a wyrmling in his eyes, your scales like shining metal compared to his muddled gemstones. An arrogant wyrmling if the way you peacock for him the first time you enter the training room has anything to say about it— your wings spreading out and muscles rippling, back straightening out to make you taller, scales glinting in the artificial light; little details that anyone else can brush off as a simple stretch but to a dragon it screams of your interest in him.

His slitted eyes roam across your body, both equal parts disdain and curiosity. "Got somethin' ta say there boy?" His words are rough like sandpaper.

"No, no." You hum as you get into the ring, every little movement purposely done to showcase your hard earned musculature. "Just that you should skip out on this fight. Wouldn't want you to throw your back out old man."

"Old man huh?" His eyes blaze with the same fire at the end of his cigar, your words igniting something in his chest that had long been extinguished. "I'll show you old."

And suddenly he's in the ring, both of you trading blow for blow with the same savagery your progenitors had frightened mankind with for millennia, your claws leaving deep grooves in the concrete when you miss his side, his tail smashing a portion of the ground into dust when you avoid it, the ground between you cracking when you try to push the other away, loose scales and dust and debris littering the ground as you and Price wrestle on the ground.

Both of your teams watch from the sidelines, your team calming the other members of TF141 that this is just how dragons are, pointedly ignoring your victorious snarl when you pin Price down to the ground, your clawed hand harshly pushing his face into the concrete to the point you might break his nose as you bite the back of his neck, forcing him to submit. "I win,"

"Not fer long." He snarls back just as deep, feeling alive for the first time in who knows how long. "Best two out of three." And with that he jerks, remaining wing slamming into your side and knocking you off balance long enough for him to fling you into the wall opposite of him.

You don't know how many rounds you go before you're forced to stop by a very pissed off Laswell, who also pointedly ignores the obvious bulges in what remains of both of your pants, giving both of you a stern talking to about wrecking the damn training room.

You're ready to leave after being chastised like a child but Price is quicker, passing you with a "Good fight back there." rumbling in his throat, the soft scales of his wing brushing along your jaw. Your eyes nearly pop out of your skull when you meet his gaze, and Price has a good poker face but the smoldering look in his eyes and the low grumble in his chest makes it's obvious you've peaked his curiosity.

But that's just the start, the hard part is keeping it. While regular dragons may spend time with a potential mate conversing on scholarly subjects or having philosophical debates, you and him have a more practical way of assessing the other's intellect — Battle plans.

To your teams it sounds like a harsh argument, ideas thrown around and sharp insults tacked on top, their heads ping ponging between you and Price as you look over maps, trying to one up the other. Eventually your teammates leave you to settle this on your own.

"And I'm telling you, old man," You growl, both of you so close there's barely any space between you as you point at the map. "We can push a smaller team through the forest while we lead the frontal assault, our wip's not going to have anywhere to go then." You huff, holding your head up high to make it obvious you're proud of your idea.

Price gives you the stink eye, before he scans the map again, humming to himself. After a few seconds he lets out a scoff. "We don't have enough men for that." He says, but the sharp edge in his tone is dulled. "But—" His tail moves to brush against your own, your rough scales brushing against his smoother ones. "—It has some merit."

Price doesn't draw attention to the way your tails intertwine, wrapping together like two snakes, and neither do you. But the short purr that bubbles out of your chest says everything he needs to know, growing louder when he answers with his own, your shoulders brushing together. "Aight, back to work." He cuts your purrs short, but you can't hide the pleased look on your face as your tails remain coiled together.

Then comes the actual courting dance.

One late evening spent looking over documents in the privacy of his office, your tails once again coiled beneath the desk after successfully having proved your wit to him again, absentmindedly telling embarrassing stories of your respective teams. . . Price has a revelation. You might be it. "Hey lad."

You look up, your full attention on him. "Yeah?"

With a mumbled grunt too quiet for you to hear Price slides a hand beneath his shirt and pulls a large green scale from the meat of his shoulder blade, the wound healing before it can even bleed.

Instinctively you know what this means, for knowing how a prospective mate treats an extension of you will show how they'll treat you. But you still speak up, needing proof for your own mind that you're not insane and haven't been burning the wrong tree. "What?"

Price glares at you, "Don't play dumb," He says as he slides the large scale across the table to you. "It doesn't suit you." There's an underlayer of heat in his words, blue slitted eyes looking you over in a much more appreciative light.

You can't control the big grin that spreads across your face, "Oh, then what does suit me?" You ask as you follow his lead, yanking out one of your larger scales from your own back and sliding it to him. It makes the difference between you two obvious, his green scale muddled with age compared to your shiny one.

"Arrogant muppet." The gentle way he picks up your scale clashes with his harsh words, cradling it in his hand like it'll crack at the slightest of touches, his face reflected in the surface.

You grin, "Just confident." You feel his sharp eyes judge every minute twitch of your fingers as you pick up his scale. Price's poker face hides the way his heart melts at the loving way you brush a thumb across the surface, how it throbs when you don't immediately attempt to make it shine like some whelps once did, accepting him for how he is by putting it in your breast pocket.

God, he doesn't even know how much he'd fantasized about something like this when he was still young, vestiges of a purr escaping his throat at the tender way you treat his scale. "Right." He shakes his head and places your scale in his own breast pocket, handing you another stack of papers. "Get back to work."

You grin and do as he says, wings twitching as a sign of joy, your tail squeezing down on his and receiving a squeeze in kind.

Price feels like a horny teen when he lays awake in bed late at night with your scale held between his claws. He feels stupid for feeling so giddy at the thought of having a mate, a proper mate, yet his body thinks differently. Just holding it in his hand is enough to make him grow hot, your scent still clings to the scale and Price finds himself holding it close to his nose to familiarize himself with it and Hell his body loves it, cocks growing hard in record time and his thighs wet with slick. The poor thing doesn't even know what to relieve first, his free hand constantly going between stroking his cocks and fingering himself, mind craving the heat of another dragon that he'd been deprived of.

What Price doesn't know is that you're in the same boat, biting your arm to silence yourself as you imagine it's Price you're breeding instead of a pillow, splintering the headboard from how hard you're gripping it in an attempt to not damage the scale.

Then shit hits the fan when during a routine mission you two are ambushed, and while two dragons are no easy prey for mankind, humans have long since gone from using rocks and sticks. You catch sight of a sniper's scope glint seconds before the bullet targets Price, and in only a few seconds to think you throw yourself in the way, Price's scale in your breast pocket puts enough resistance to make you survive the bullet, but you feel it crack, and that. . . that sets you off.

Price doesn't even have the time to lift his gun before you're tearing through the battlefield like a man possessed, anger burning like a volcano in your chest for trying to hurt him, elemental breath and draconic strength unleashed to it's fullest potential.

And Price? Price watches the show with that same heat burning in his belly, forced to bite his lip to silence the pleased purrs as he rubs his thighs together while you tear flesh from bone, mate flashing in his mind. Look how he protects you His mind purrs, Good mate. Perfect mate.

"I'm sorry." You whimper when you've finally calmed down, the battlefield nothing but a ruined crater and the shards of his scale held tenderly in your cupped hands. "I failed, I-"

"Come here." Price cuts you off quickly and pulls you down into a harsh and desperate kiss, all teeth and tongue and need. He parts just a fraction of an inch, "You passed." He growls and only then do you notice the sharp arousal in his scent, your animalistic hindbrain jumping for joy as you kiss back because holy shit he considers you worthy.

And now that he's found his mate? You best believe his body is going to make up for all the centuries he'd spent alone.

It doesn't even take a week for him to enter heat, waking in a daze with his twin cocks hard and his thighs glistening with slick, your scent lingering in the sheets and your side of the bed still warm. The walls almost shake from how deeply he growls when he registers that you're not next to him, just enough sense in his head to throw on a towel around his waist before angerly stomping through the halls to find you, sniffing you out like a bloodhoud.

"Bloody muppet." Price growls as he yanks you by the horns back to his room, the scent of his arousal so potent you're struck dumb, letting yourself be pushed down. Price's claws slice through your clothes, his hole so slick and eager for you he doesn't even need to stretch, just jumps onto your lap and in one fluid motion takes one of your cocks to the root. "Fuckin' finally." Price hisses, instantly setting a harsh pace of bouncing on your cock that would have had a lesser race end up with a crushed pelvis.

You grip his hips for dear life, surging up to mark his neck and shoulders with bites as he does the same, his ass clapping against your thighs. "Mate." Price moans, hole clenching around you, his cocks leaking against your stomach. "My mate." He grips your hair and pulls you into a bruising kiss, "Going to last long for me yeah?" He asks, a bit of mockery on his flushed face as he feels you cum inside him, riding you through your orgasm as the sudden onslaught of sensations frazzles the intelligent parts of your brain. "Not going to disappoint me now are you?"

Good thing dragons have really short refractory periods.

"Not a chance." You snarl and flip him over suddenly, rumbling purrs escaping your chest from the surprised sound he makes. You attempt to pin him down and he squirms out of your hold, another bout of wrestling breaking out between you that has you two tumbling off the bed and onto the ground.

"That so whelp?" Price breathes out when you manage to pin him down, your strong hand keeping his face flush with the floor. "Do you really think you can keep up?" A pleased thrill runs down his spine from the sensation of your weight bearing down on him, his knees automatically locking up to hike his ass up, tail flipping up to display his slick hole for you.

"Do you?" You counter, one hand on his head, the other pressing both of your dicks together, your two tips pressing against his ass. "You're so wet and desperate, should have just pinned you down the moment I saw you instead of courting you." With one sharp thrust you push in, a pained and elated moan tearing out of his throat at the sensation of your twin cocks spreading him wider than any toy ever could, scratching that itch he'd had for who knows how long.

The stretch and burn and pleasure muddles his mind, reduces him to low animalistic snarls and growls as he does his best to push his hips into yours. "Hurry the fuck up." Price orders, whole body shaking from the way you set a harsh pace, bashing on his prostate, your balls slapping against his own, each hard thrust pushing and pulling his face across the floor. "I'll- fuck- fall asleep."

"You sure about that?" You push your weight further on him, forcing his wing to spread out, your own partially wrapping around him, "Seems to me like-" A bit of elemental breath leaves your throat when one particularly strong thrust has his hole clamping down on you, his back arching to push his hips as close to yours as one of his cocks spews cum on the floor, "-like you're not in a place to order me around."

"You- ah-fuck-ah- wanker." His insult would be a lot more hurtful if he didn't whine like a bitch in heat, both of you devolving into primitive snarls and growls with the only thought on both of your minds being the need to fill Price with as much of your cum as you physically can.

#Spittballs with Gnome #Idk how this happened #my hyperfixation got wayyy out of hand #n my monsterfucking got out of hand #cod mw2 #gnome correspondence #x reader #trinkets from the hoard #male reader #top male reader #captain john price #john price x male reader #john price x reader #top dom reader #cod modern warfare #cod smut #cod x male reader

2K notes · View notes

cosmicschmidt · 5 months

Text

UNTIL I FOUND YOU (2)

PART 1, PART 3

Coriolanus Snow x fem!Reader

Synopsis: When the 18 year old Coriolanus Snow recieves the news that he has to mentor a tribute in order to claim the Plinth Prize, he expected everything but not a shy girl from district 12 to claim his heart.

Word count: 2,1K

Warnings: Reader pretty much just replaces Lucy Gray, Lucy Gray does not exsist in this (I´m sorry), some things might not fully add up to the movie plot ´cause I only saw it once and that was three days ago, use of Y/N, it´s implied that the reader is shorter than Coryo, small swearing, simple inhumane Hunger Games topics, mention of blood

Reblogs and requests are always welcomed <3 (just like pointing out grammatical mistakes :))

Previously…

A few screams erupt from the group of tributes, and everyone starts to slide out like bags of flour. Y/N yelps again and tries to hold onto Coriolanus, he manages to hold both of their weights, but Y/N´s grip on him loosens when she wiggles in his tight hold.

"Wait- Y/N hold on!" he hisses out, but Y/N moves in his grasp trying to get a hold of Wovey´s hand who´s close to sliding down as well.

"Grab my hand!" she yells, but Wovey slips away, and Y/N watches the little girl and Jessup moves out of her view into the unknown.

Y/N removes herself from his grasp, just as Coriolanus can´t hold them up anymore due to the shaking wagon, and they all slide into whatever the Capitol planned for them.

Gasps and yelps ring through the air as all tributes including Coriolanus are forced to leave the wagon, the feeling of falling long gone before Y/N can take in the situation, and with a thump, she makes contact with something cold and uneven. The warmth of her ´mentor´s´ hands leave her body, and the red of his clothes fall out of her reach.

A slight hiss escapes her dry and parted lips as a sting shoots through her head, a thin layer of sweat on her forehead that suddenly doesn´t feel so thin anymore, as a small trail of warm liquid slides down her temple.

Her brows furrow at the feeling, before she can stop herself she pushes her upper body up from the filthy ground and leans onto her forearms in order to sit up. The right side of her face still feels warmer than it should, so she moves onto her shaky knees.

While all her attention is on the side of her obviously wounded face, curses and groans echo through the air, most of the tributes stand up and brush their clothes off the dirt that still clung to them.

In the meantime, blurred-out voices slice through the silence, Y/N winces at the feeling of the small gash on her temple, the second her fingers touched the side of her head, she removed them again. Her hands wrap around the fabric of her shirt and she lowers her head to connect it to the wound, gently drying it of the red fluid.

"…well, give them a chance to stand up and catch their breath. I´m jealous of that entrance!" a voice speaks up, although it´s quiet to Y/N´s ears as the source of the words is plenty of feet away from her. She drops her shirt back down and leaves the wound by itself, although the slight sting practically yarns for better treatment.

"Y/N?" Jessup speaks up to her right, her head and upper body move in his direction, her body rotating to the right.

"Yeah, yeah.. wait," she speaks, lowers her hands onto the cold stone texture beneath her and uses her strength to push herself off the ground. Big and warm hands wrap around her waist unexpectedly and easily pull her up from the ground, setting her back on her feet.

A small surprised gasp leaves her lips, and she turns at the feeling of hands on her middle.

"Thanks, Jess-" she stops the words from spilling past her lips, the hands that still rest on her body don´t belong to the boy from District 12, instead, Coriolanus Snow shoots her a small smile. Y/N can´t stop her face from flushing at their close proximity before their short moment is interrupted.

"But guess where I am today!" the same voice from before again reaches their ears, and just now the girl realizes that she´s in fact surrounded by bars out of metal, their height makes it unable to climb them, locking the tributes inside like animals in a cage.

"Here´s a hint, that´s right! The Capitol´s Zoo, where this year´s tributes will be held behind these bars for your viewing pleasure."

"That´s right. All twenty-four of them-" Y/N peeks past a few taller tributes surrounding her, and her eyes fall onto a man who holds onto a small microphone, his body turned to another man who seems to record the scene unfolding in front of him. The speaking man himself is dressed in a plain gray suit, his black shoes underlining his obvious wealth.

At least a dozen pairs of eyes watch the tributes through the bars, expensive-looking clothes rest on their bodies, as a crowd including all ages from 4 to 40 don´t remove their stares. Some of their faces show awe and excitement, as if extinct animals have been reborn and are presented for the world to see.

Coriolanus´ eyes harden at the ogling eyes that skim over the players of this year´s game, although he does catch a guy around their age watching Y/N intensely. The sudden need to shield her from the praying eyes raises in his chest, and his hands - that still rest around her middle - tighten.

The guy in the gray suit stops in his tracks the moment he faces the cage, the unexpected color red catching his attention.

"What in the gem of Panem…?"

"You see that´s an Academy rouge, no?" he turns back to the camera with a questioning look on his face, seemingly addressing whoever is watching.

"Excuse me!" he yells over at Coriolanus, his eyes widen, probably in realization or maybe out of fear.

"Hello, Sir."

"Yes, you. In the red."

"Who are you, and why are you in there with them? We´re live!" Coriolanus gulps at the words, he opens his mouth but nothing comes out, he just continues to stare at the man at a loss for words.

"Uhm, I-…"

"Are you alright?!" the guy yells again.

Coriolanus removes his hands from Y/N`s waist and takes a small step away from her. Y/N quickly stops him and catches his arm in her grasp causing him to stop and turn his eyes back to hers.

"What are you gonna do?" she asks quietly, shielding her face from the camera.

"Y/N Y/L, may I introduce you to my neighbors?" he asks with a tint of amusement, yet his face is filled with dread.

"A reaction would be appreciated, anything would be nice!" the voice speaks again.

Coriolanus´ gaze falls to her right, the white of the rose he gifted to her gleaming in the sunlight, he takes a step and picks it up from the ground, before he snaps the longest part of the stem off throwing it to the side.

Although the rose did take a little damage due to the fall, its sparkle is still evident as the blonde tucks it behind Y/N`s ear, his blue eyes never leaving hers in the progress.

With a nod, he offers her his hand.

She gently nods back in understanding and her hand lands in his bigger palm again, although his fingers are a little rough his hand engulfs hers in a soft manner.

"Well that´s something you don´t see every day, they´re holding hands."

Almost every tribute found someplace to sit, watching the little show that unfolded in front of their eyes.

"Yes, yes, yes," he speaks again as Coriolanus leads her over to the bars, taking one step after the other, carefully stepping over smaller stones to prevent a fall.

"Who are you, sir? What are you doing in the cage here?"

Y/N´s hands start to sweat a little, the smaller the distance becomes the áudience´s´ eyes don´t prey away.

Y/N plasters a fake smile onto her lips, false enthusiasm spreading over her features, as two children, not a day older than 10 and 4 step closer.

"Hi," Coriolanus speaks.

"How do you do?" he asks, now directly addressing the young boy with shoulder-length black hair.

"My name is Coriolanus Snow, and this is my tribute. Y/N Y/LN from district 12," he says with a fake yet kind voice, as his gaze is fixated on the two children.

"Hi," Y/N adds and awkwardly waves her hand at them.

"What´s your name?"

"My name is Pontius." the small boy answers, the suit he´s wearing markless and clean.

"Nice to meet you, Pontius, is that your sister?" Y/N asks politely, Coriolanus squeezing her hand proudly at her quick improvising.

"That´s Venus, she´s only four," he says with a shrug of his shoulders.

"Well luckily four is my favourite number, it´s a great age to be."

"I remember you." the little girl in pink replies.

"Oh yeah?"

"Yeah, you´re the one that volunteered for her sister," she says proudly, her face beaming with happiness.

Y/N`s face falls at the mention of her beloved sister, who´s most likely watching this conversation right now. Yet she shakes the thought off and the fake smile returns to her face.

"You´re right that´s her!" the reporter says.

"So, as already mentioned this is my mentor, Coriolanus Snow, it seems like I got the cake with the cream since no one else bothered to show up." Y/N say as she rests her elbow on his shoulder.

The reporter turns back to the camera in confusion, takes a small breath and then starts to ask "So, the game makers did tell you to jump in the cage with them?"

"They didn´t tell me not to." the boy beside Y/N answers, his expression showing no regret.

"They just said it´s the mentor´s job to introduce our Tribute to the citizens of Panem. And I thought if Y/N is brave enough to be here, why shouldn´t I be too?"

"Well that is a nice thing to do-"

"What´s that on your forehead?" Venus asks genuinely interested, seemingly uninterested in the fact that she just cut off the reporter, the camera moves to the small girl.

"Oh. that, well-" the District 12 girl´s hand moves back to the wound that still remained on her temple, her fingertips coated in red after touching the skin.

"That happened when we were…. delivered…." she adds, her voice holding fake amusement.

"You´re hurt?" Coriolanus asks from beside her, and before the girl can tell him that it´s fine and that it´ll heal on its own Coriolanus´ pointerfinger and thumb gently pull her face closer to his by her chin.

His blue orbs are looking down at her while her own hold his gaze, in order to see him she has to lift her head.

"Oh that looks like quite a gash doesn´t it?" the reporter slips in, while he gestures for the camera to move closer to the both of you, the sparkle in the reporter's eyes showing his excitement, that he´s the one to catch this simple yet intimate moment between Mentor and Tribute.

"Yeah well in the next 48 hours, the little gash might just be at the bottom of my list of problems," Y/N states in a cold tone, her face moving out of his grasp.

The reporter seems to lose interest in the sudden change of topic, and gestures for the cameraman to film the other Tributes, ranting on about whatever topic comes to mind.

Y/N scoffs at them and how easily they lose interest in something the moment someone´s actions don´t fit into their perfect picture.

"Here, let me." soft, white fabric presses against the side of her head, as Coriolanus cleans the wound of the remaining still air-drying blood that paints her skin, the cotton taking away the thin layer of sweat as well.

Even though her gaze is on her feet, she can feel his eyes boring into the side of her face.

"Does it hurt?"

"No."

He nods his head, yet he keeps his hands on her face, gently treating the wound, at the feeling of his warm hands, Y/N can´t help but blush. Her cheek grows warm where his skin meets her own, as her eyes stay on the ground.

"Are you sure-" Coriolanus is cut off again.

"I hate to interrupt, but I think you´re about to be whisked away, young man."

Someone harshly slaps Coriolanus´ hand that rests on Y/N´s face off, he gasps at the action, but neither of them can say anything before a Peacekeeper grabs his biceps and starts to pull him to the exit of the cage.

"Let´s go."

"Wait-" Y/N grabs a hold of his free wrist.

"Can you get us some food? Please? We´re practically starving."

Coriolanus just nodded at her quietly, the space between the both of them growing as he´s pulled away from her. The girl suddenly feels empty without him standing next to her, like a shield that´s been protecting her has been taken away.

The reporter - whose name seems to be Lucky Flickermann - now turned back to the cage ends his live report,

"The 10th annual Hunger Games are soon approaching, so come down to the Zoo and see the Tributes before it´s too late." he does a dramatic pause.

"And I mean, too late," he adds with a small smirk.

"Capitol news."

"I´m Lucretius.", he looks up to the sky before stretching out his hand and catching a coin.

"Lucky Flickermann." with that the live report ends.

For those who asked for a second part :) (I can’t tag everyone!)

@zucchinimalfoy

#coriolanus snow #coriolanus snow x reader #the hunger games #hunger games x reader #tom blyth #tom blyth x reader #until i found you #finnick odair x reader #peeta mellark x reader #lucy gray baird #x reader

2K notes · View notes

on-leatheredwings · 2 months

Text

Sleepover

Yandere! Damian Wayne x (Fem!) Reader > romantic > summary: During a sleepover, Damian makes his first foray into infatuation. > word count: 1605 > [ a/n: i just love writing from the yandere’s point of view! Damian is 19 or college-age here. honestly not much plot, just musings~ i will try to write from the Darling’s POV next time hehe.]

This must be love.

“Wow, Damian… I’ve never noticed but your nails are so pretty,” you compliment, satisfied with the boy’s upkeep. Damian feels his heart thrumming against his ribcage. You are holding his hand.

Not for the first time either, but the thrill never fades.

If this had occurred a year ago, before Damian learned of how casual (generous, even!) you were physical affection, he might have dumbly stated, “You’re holding my hand.” Instead, he simply thinks it, on loop, in one long string.

You’re holding my hand. You’re holding my hand. You’re holding my hand.

Unbeknownst to all this, you simply paint his forefinger with a stripe of green so dark it looks black.

“If we’re going to do this, it’ll be by my rules,” he had said.

In reality, if you needled him any harder, he would’ve accepted pink nails with glitter on them. Who cares? There wasn’t anyone who dared to make fun of him at school. Not to mention, it’d be obvious to everyone that you painted them. And at night… well, Robin wears gloves.

“Hn. How so?” Damian asks with feigned coolness. Mainly because he wants to hear you praise him. In your hushed, awed voice. When he dreams, you often sound like that. (And he quickly pushes that thought away.)

You look at him pointedly, grinning. Oh, he’s not so slick. You acquiesce to his whims anyway.

“Your cuticles are impeccable and your nails are finely trimmed… I’m impressed. Don’t you do martial arts, too? Crazy they aren’t more dinged up.”

Martial arts. That was supposed to explain his abnormal strength and fighting capability, the one time you saw him nearly break a man’s wrist for trying to pickpocket you.

You accepted the excuse with only a little suspicion.

“It’s simple grooming.”

A catlike grin forms on your face. “Hm~ I don’t knowwww… Seems like you may be trying to catch the eye of a girl – you know, girls look at stuff like that.”

Damian frowns.

He’s infatuated but not delusional. He’s aware this ‘sleepover’ is pretty platonic on your end. After nails, it’ll be skin care. Maybe you’ll even do your makeup and take goofy pictures with him. You’ll laugh and platonically huddle against him during a movie. You may doze off on his shoulder while he’ll be committing your every dewy, moisturized pore to memory.

Because of Damian’s (self-admitted) social awkwardness with your peers, you think that gives you some sort of elder sibling-esque edge on him. You are the social butterfly, leading a naive, but well-meaning social pariah through the perils of young adult life. You don’t know you are so much more naive than he is, and he adores that.

Rather than addressing the question, he snorts. “When are you going to turn on the movie?”

You hum, completing his nail’s first coat. “Oh yeah, that’s right!” You grab the remote and press play. You continue painting, gingerly admiring his long, golden brown digits. Damian preens at the attention.

As the movie plays, you pause often to look up and gape at the screen. It’s a horror flick, and boasts an abundance of cartoonish gore. While a bit more sensational than something he’d put on, he likes your dark taste. An annoying teenager gets their head hacked off with a chainsaw. You laugh and Damian feels his heart sing.

There’s a chime that rings through Wayne Manor, and he has to bite back a groan.

“Pizza’s here!” you cheer. You begin to get up when Damian whips out his card in an instant.

“I’ll pay.” To his delight, you gape in surprise, cheeks warming.

“Oh… Thanks, Damian!” You never quite get used to him paying for things, but you at least know by now not to argue. You grab his credit card and – thank God – your fingers brush against each other. It sends the most pleasant trill down his spine. “Since you’re paying, I’ll go bring it! I won’t be long.”

A corner of his lips quirk. “I’ll be pleasantly surprised if it gets back to this room at all.” You stick out your tongue on the way out.

As soon as he hears your footsteps disappear down the hall – such clumsy, loud steps – Damian’s attention falls to the messenger bag you threw to the ground of his bedroom. He knows your diary is in there. (In his mind, he can hear you protest, It’s a journal!)

He’ll be quick. He flips open to a random page, and he already is laughing at your writing style. There’s little care for capitalizing letters and full of what you explained are “emoticons”, despite being handwritten. He flips to today’s entry, half-finished.

February 01.

there’s a guy in class who’s pretty cute… one may even say HOT xP

Damian’s jaw tightens. He knows exactly who you’re talking about, and he won’t allow that neanderthal anywhere near you. At least, not again. Yesterday, you told him that your crush had smiled at you. Brushed fingers with you when passing papers. In the only class you have without Damian.

(Also, “your crush,” he scoffs. What a juvenile concept. You and Damian share something much deeper. His feelings for you are not so trivial.)

The semester is still young. Damian can pull any string to land himself in your anthropology class.

The rest of your entry for today (and the past days prior) isn’t anything notable except for when he’s mentioned.

stressful day, but at least i have tonight with damian to cheer me up. he’s seriously the best …. i should tell him more often !!! (but it’d give him an even bigger head)

He doesn’t even attempt to stop the smile splitting his face.

Damian’s keen hearing catches you striking up a conversation with Alfred in the kitchen. Despite your promise, he knows you will, indeed, take long. You love talking to everyone, even in passing. It’s an admirable quality, and one he envies.

He unlocks your phone and rifles through some messages of yours. He uses his own phone for documentation purposes. What else is there to do… He spies your jacket on his bed.

There is a shameful thought and Damian’s heart skips a beat. It is… frankly, it’s humiliating as a concept. Yet he’s enticed. It’s your jacket, after all. He brings it to his face delicately and inhales, almost shyly. Once he catches the familiar scent of your body wash, however, he allows himself to breathe it in. After being lost in it for a few seconds, he rips it away.

Only to see his father standing in his doorframe.

He knows what this looks like. Damian knows what this looks like. After years of working with the man, Damian can hear his thoughts as if they were his own, as they happen.

Damian just smelled your clothes. Even if it was investigative in nature, he could’ve retrieved a sample some other way. Someone’s personal journal is open on the floor. A phone that he knows is not Damian’s is unlocked and displaying text messages. All these things are splayed out in a circle around him. It’s uncharacteristically messy of him, as well. Damian’s own phone is actively on his camera. Was he taking pictures? And most notable is the absence of you.

In summary? Damian must have some interest in you. And by this sloppy job, it’s quite emotionally charged. And at his age, it’s likely romantic.

Damian’s skin rises to what feels like a boiling heat. What is Father going to say? He can’t stop him – he can’t. Damian doesn’t even want to talk about it, let alone be reprimanded. A feral need to escape bubbles underneath his skin. Despite the panic, he channels years of League training and hardens himself.

Bruce watches his son’s expression morph from dazed, to fearful, to steel, in real time. From Damian’s seat on the floor he offers his father only silent defiance. Bruce knows his son, his darker needs that stem from his cruel childhood. And perhaps he should’ve expected this to happen someday. Bruce exhales, eyes closing. When they reopen, his slate-grey eyes are firm and hard.

“No one gets hurt.”

And by that, Bruce means no one dies. Because Bruce and Damian are Batman and Robin – they’re all in the business of hurting people. People who deserve it, yes, but it’s still hurt. Pain.

Damian feels immense relief. He wouldn’t have killed his father – he’s not that boy anymore. But a life without you seems similarly unbearable. Damian feels… shaken. He doesn’t know what he would’ve done. He also feels grateful, that it didn’t turn out any other way.

His eyes drop to the jacket he holds in a fist.

“... Yes. Thank you, Father.” Bruce’s gaze lingers, but he leaves wordlessly.

This encounter reminds Damian of who he is. He is a detective, vigilante, assassin, and creature of stealth. He can’t be this careless, even if he knows you won’t notice.

Damian returns your belongings to their place, exactly how you left it. Diary back in your bag, jacket to where you were lounging, your phone underneath a pillow, because you carelessly tossed it aside. You’ll inevitably begin to look for it and he’ll grin once he places it in your hand.

You finally return to his room, two pizza boxes of deluxe cheese (for him) and pepperoni (for you) in your arms. You laugh sheepishly.

“Sorry for the wait, Dami.” His heart skitters at the nickname.

“It’s fine.” Your eyes glitter with excitement and optimism and purity. He finds it hard to look away, you raining down a gaze like that upon him.

“I was waiting for you.”

#yandere damian wayne #damian wayne x reader #yandere batfam #damian wayne #yandere damian wayne x reader #wish this was better but idc #its fun to just write u know :)#mine

1K notes · View notes

rootbeerworshiper · 26 days

Text

Secure

chris sturniolo x fem!reader

summery: an argument with your boyfriend leaves you more insecure than ever, his words ringing in your head until he finds a way to make it up to you.

warnings: angst, hint of fluff not rlly, fem!receiving, so much praise, some use of pet names, slight overstimulation, fingering……yeah!

@nicksmainbitch hopefully you enjoy i tried my best to do your request justice

a/n: this is so short i’m so sorry im working on so many series rn but i wanted to get a oneshot out feel free to hate me

love, sienna <3

“maybe you’re just too insecure to be in a relationship” Chris yells, releasing every ounce of anger he stored away with one simple sentence.

you feel frozen, feet planted heavily in the ground although you’re knees could give out at any moment. this conversation was not supposed to be happening, not here.

not when Chris was supposed to go film a video and especially not when you had a major final coming up—the stress of both things clearly manifesting it’s way into your relationship.

the fluorescent lighting of the boys room sends rays over your whole body, ironically making you feel like a spotlight is shining at you, egging you on to say something in reply—but you can’t.

your body reacts to his words before your brain does, a quivering lip and eyes full of tears that want nothing more than to pour out.

is this really how he saw you? some insecure fragile girl who’s not ready for a relationship?

maybe he’s not entirely wrong about the fragile part, because all you can do is cry, and as pathetic as it may be, it’s the only thing you have the strength for.

you and Chris have been fighting for the past few weeks, it started off as small snarky responses but developed into arguments that left an echo on practically the whole neighbourhood.

subconsciously, you hug yourself, wrapping your shaking hands around your waist to seek some comfort, even if your boyfriend is standing directly across from you.

for a second, you see a glimpse of pity in his eyes, something in his brain telling him for a split second telling him he’s in the wrong, but before he can walk over to replace your hands with his own you snap.

“do you think i’m stupid or something? is that what you genuinely think of me?” you attempt to raise the volume behind your voice but instead it comes out more croaky, more weak.

Chris starts defending himself, as he does far too often. “of course not y/n i just-“

“rachel. you’d rather spend time with fucking rachel than your own girlfriend.”

he’s silent, taking his own turn being dead frozen.

“maybe i am insecure, Chris, but at least im respectful enough to not cancel on my long term girlfriend for some girl i just met on fucking instagram” your sadness is replaced with anger when you lay everything out.

“you know, i had just finished fucking pouring my heart out into my journal about how you’re the one for me, about how i saw a forever with you, and then” you let out a petty laugh. “and then i go on instagram to see my boyfriend, Chris Sturniolo at boa steakhouse with some instagram influencer”

“she’s just a-“ he starts, ultimately getting cut off by your own anger yet again.

“do you know how embarrassing that is for me? going with with some friend to a fucking fancy steakhouse, the steakhouse you took us on our first date to?”

It really is insane when you lay it out like this, even when part of you felt like you were in the wrong, his wrongs outweighed any insecurities you had.

you let out a sigh, seemingly signalling the end to your anger because he begins speaking again. “i know what it looks like, i do. but it’s not like that and i don’t know how else to explain that to you, i think you just need to grow up and understand that i can have girl friends while you’re my girlfriend”

nope. no fucking way.

“i think you need to grow up and realize that you’re dumbass just lost any chance you had at saving this relationship, have fun with rachel” you turn away immediately, slamming his door behind yourself before he can’t even chase you down.

the walk up is uncomfortable, both of Chris brothers splayed out on the living room couch, ready to begin filming a funny car video while you’re walking up the stairs with a red, tear covered face.

they both look to you with sadness, and seemingly an understanding of your position, but their mouths remain closed as you quickly put your shoes on and walk out the door.

————————————————————————

it’s been a week.

you wish you could say you were doing amazing, ridding yourself of a toxic boyfriend and focusing on your own mental health but that was… far from the truth.

but instead you’re crying while watching 10 things i hate about you and eating ramen—not exactly the best way to show you’re the bigger person.

it’s pathetic. scrolling on instagram to constantly check what Chris is doing while you simultaneously have unfollowed him.

relationships are not easy, but deep down you know you’re in the right, you just wanted Chris back… before he met another girl.

you don’t know what made his priorities change. maybe that’s what hurt you the most.

what is it that made you unlovable, what is it that rachel did better than you.

no. you know this isn’t about some girl named rachel, you know this all stems from yourself.

the constant comparisons you made to any girl you deemed better than you, the way it never failed to make you feel terrible about the cards you were dealt.

it was hard enough to except the fact that Chris liked you to begin with, and on one of your many late night walks you had told him that, told him that sometimes you’re lack of self confidence can get the best of you.

and for majority of your relationship he was supportive of that, supportive of you.

so once again, what changed? was it him or was it you?

you let out a heavy sigh, stirring your noodles and lifting the fork to your face when you hear a knock on the door.

it takes a second for you to even comprehend the noise, racking your brain trying to figure out what you had ordered online when you were up till two am sobbing.

either way you need to answer, so you make the embarrassing walk to the door while still wrapped in your fuzzy blanket m, as it replaces an embrace you miss.

you make it down the stairs, expecting a package to be delivered at your doorstep, instead you see him.

he’s stood there, a journal in his hand and an insane look of sorry overtaking his blue irises.

“hi” he says simply, moments before you go to slam the door in his face, his hand being the only thing stopping it from latching onto the hinges. “wait, please” he’s fighting back tears of his own, not that you feel bad for him in the slightest.

“what do you want Chris? i have a romantic comedy to attend to since my life kinda lacks one right now” you say with an ounce of pettiness escaping your teeth.

“y/n please” he squeezes the book in his hand, clutching to it like his life depends on it. “can i come in?”

part of you wants to say no, most of you wants to say no, but he’s Chris, your Chris, and you hate seeing him sad regardless of how much he deserves it. “fine make it quick” you mumble, opening the door fully and walking over to plop yourself on the couch, the boy awkwardly following behind you, as if he is literally walking on eggshells.

he sits beside you, not getting to comfortable as your unwelcoming demeanour leaves him anxious next to you. “i uh” he coughs, sniffling his noise and shaking his mess of hair to the side. “i don’t want you to ever think i’d choose someone else over you, ever. because i couldn’t, i-“ he sighs, as you sit there at stare at him, unsure of how to feel. “i can’t imagine being with anyone else because i see a forever with you”

“did you tell this to rachel too?” your mouth speaks before your conscience can stop yourself.

“no obviously not i mean, i don’t even know what i was doing with her, it was dumb and i don’t even have an excuse for it but i never” he breathes. “i never wanted anything with her, it’s always gonna be you”

it’s silent for a second, you processing his words and him praying mentally you’ll give him another chance. “what’s with the book?” you ask, slightly less anger backing your tone as you gesture to the journal placed in his lap.

“are you gonna promise to not make fun of me?” he says, an innocent look plastered on his face, god you missed his face.

“i can’t promise anything but ill try” you say, smiling out of the fake frown you displayed for him.

he scratches his head. “Matt kinda told me to start journaling a while ago and i thought it was stupid but then when i met you i kinda had too many thoughts to keep in my brain and-“

you place a gentle hand on his bouncing knee. “take your time Chris it’s okay”

he could cry at the contact but he continues speaking, slower this time as per your request. “i needed to write down the overwhelming thoughts i was having about you because im so in love with you i can’t keep it to myself” he sighs. “but i want you to have this because it shows how perfect you are. i never want you to feel lesser than anyone else because to me you’re everything, and im sorry i lost track of that”

you could cry at his gesture alone but instead you lean in, closing the space between the two of you and returning to a pair of lips you’ve been craving for the past week.

he kisses back hesitantly, caught off guard by your sudden act of affection.

the rhythm at which your lips move has you in a trance, beginning as an innocent kiss and immediately becoming more passionate when your tongue explores his mouth, your teeth biting gently on his bottom lip as you pull off. “i missed you”

he smiles, the same dorky smile you missed creating on his lips. “can i make it up to you?” he asks, leaving you confused.

“you already did make it up to me” you say, his head dipping down to your neck before you get a chance to keep speaking, a soft whimper leaving your mouth instead. “oh”

he’s comfortable on your neck, his hands immediately taking the blanket off of your shoulders as he moves himself to hover of you, his knees digging into the rug on the floor. “wanna really make it up to you”

it’s hard for you to speak, his hands cupping your clothed chest giving them a light squeeze before you can say another word, his lips now placed softly on your own.

for a while you’re comfortable like this, but you need more—and by the way you squeeze your thighs together on the cushion, Chris can tell.

his fingers go to lift your sweater off, immediately exposing you to him. “you’re so beautiful” he mumbles, his mouth nod focusing on your nipples as you arch your back into the couch—his tongue swirling your bud and his hands rubs soft lines on your legs.

“missed you so much baby” he’s says quietly, his mouth now placing teasing kisses on your exposed stomach, causing you to inhale at the soft sensation.

his hands now tug at your sweats, a familiar set of eyes looking up at you to ask for permission, all you can mutter out is a quick. “please”

“yeah? you miss my mouth?” he says, causing you to roll your eyes before his hands pull down your sweats and your underwear at the same time, one swift motion leaving you on display for the boy below you.

he kisses your thighs while hands hands work to remove the fabric off of your ankles and it’s safe to say you’re getting impatient, your legs spreading above him the moment the fabric is done restricting you.

“aren’t you just needy” he chuckles, his hands traveling up your sides to make contact with your chest once more. “can i take my time?”

you nod, fighting back a moan as you feel his hot breath over your folds, teasing his entrance.

but instead of giving you what you’re practically begging for he take his hands and props your legs on the couch. “god i haven’t been able to stop thinking about this”

“then get to it” you joke, only receiving a delicate kiss to your inner thigh as a response.

your own hands immediately make their way to his hair, pushing away the strands that cover his face so you can see more of him.

he makes eye contact with you, kissing everywhere on your lower half expect where you’re aching for him. “chris i need-“

there it is.

he kisses your clit, eyes making contact with your own that you could melt under, his innocent gaze as he makes you feel everything but innocent.

it’s unfortunate how much he loves teasing you, especially with make up sex, because his tongue has yet to make contact with you.

“so prefect, just for me” he continues mumbling praises as his hands roam your body.

before you can argue you’re cut off by the contact you were craving, his tongue immediately encapsulating your clit into his mouth and twirling it in slow, sensual circles.

your knees threaten to cave in at the contact but his hands are quick to push them back out as he leaves open mouthed kisses on yourself as you squirm above him.

soon enough the muscle finds a rhythm to follow, flicking up and down at a more intense pace than before. “fuck Chris, so good” you moan out.

your eyes shut almost immediately, the feeling of his warm tongue causing an embarrassingly fast build up in your stomach. “mmm just like that”

you can feel his smile below you, but his tongue doesn’t let up, instead, he places a familiar finger in your soaked centre.

instinctively you arch into him, your body chasing the pleasure that is consistently building throughout your body.

the pace at which he’s moving is addicting, and with the addition of another finger curling into you, you’re a moaning mess.

the tips of his fingers reaching deep inside of you along with the pressure and speed at which is tongue glides on your clit is overwhelming. “baby im” you whimper again. “so close just for you”

that sentence alone was enough to have him speed up, increasing the intensity of his fingers and his tongue.

your hips rut into his face, his one hand still pushing your knee to keep you spread for him.

he doesn’t let out once, your mouth left in an o shape as the pleasure overtakes you, your stomach tensing into his touch as you release onto his fingers.

he pulls his fingers out, his mouth meeting your neck while the pads of his fingers rub your wet clit at a speed that has you dizzy, your legs shutting over his hand as he rocks you through your orgasam. “just like that there you go pretty girl, just for me” he mumbles, mindlessly sucking on your bare neck.

his hands stop when your own arms clutch onto him, signalling the sensitive became too much. “i love you so much and i’m so fucking sorry” you’re too out of breath to reply. “let’s get you cleaned up baby i wanna take you on a date”

a/n: i wrote this so fast bc i gotta go to work and i didn’t proofread (are we surprised) but yeah ily bye

taglist: @lolasnoww-blog @tastesousweet @ivypoison @disturbedwoodelf @sturnswift @junnniiieee07 @ellie-luvsfics @sturnified @s7urnfilms @madsdogst @justlivinglive @sluttycupsworld @flowerxbunnie @mbsbaby @sturniolossmut @lustfulslxt @69isabella69 @dracoflaco @mattslatinagf @raekensluver @worldlxvlys @lacysturniolo @greatooglymooglyyy @breeloveschris @st7rnioioss @imwetforyourmom @sturniolololover @immuneweed @sturniolho @its-jennarose @taco-taco-posts @lovelottos

#sturniolo triplets #sturniolo #chris sturniolo #chris sturniolo smut #chris sturniolo oneshot #chris sturniolo angst #chris sturniolo fluff #chris sturniolo fanfic #chris sturniolo x reader #sturniolo smut

1K notes · View notes

byuntrash101 · 6 months

Text

realistic sex with yunho

yunho x f!reader fluff | smut | mdni a/n: our big puppy boy yunho is the next entry to this series where i try to imagine how each member would actually fuck, as ✨realistically✨ as possible. disclaimer: i say realistic but lets be honest this is pure delulu behaviour and total fiction. everything is solely based on the vibes the boys give off.

yunho is the kind of man that knows exactly what he wants. so when he got to know you he knew instantly he wanted you. maybe he didn’t know right away he wanted to pursue a romantic relationship with you but he definitely knew he wanted to explore this as a possibility

yunho goes to people he’s compatible with, therefore there's no awkward first stage. he pursues you but is never annoying or pressing but he's not a smooth talker either (he can be though) he just puts you at ease. he makes sure you feel comfortable around him and lightens the mood often with funny comments and little jokes or even silly faces.

basically makes you laugh all the time.

the goofball™

that's how you fell for him without even noticing. because you were just laughing all the way through enjoying spending time with your friend until he was way more than this.

getting together with him was so natural that at some point the lines got a little blurry and when you finally asked what you guys were he looked at you with big round puppy eyes

"what kind of question is that you're? you're my girlfriend, silly" was his response. to him it was so obvious that he didn't even need to label your relationship. to his defense he's been sure about you since that first day he made you laugh for real. not the polite controlled laugh but snorting laugh you could be self conscious about. but to him it's the single most endearing thing about you.

he loves that side of you and that he's known for quite a while. the man doesn't hesitate and doesn't beat around the bush

(aries much? yes very)

overall yunho is very gentle maybe because of his height but he's very much conscious of his body and strength and he's not the kind to accidentally hurt you when you play fight

and that's how you know than when he does hurt you. he means it. (more on that later hehe)

many people assume that since yunho is like tall tall that's he has a size kink. I am a firm believer that he actually doesn't. he knows he's tall, he doesn't need the size kink ego boost. but you know who has a size kink? san!

ofc if you're into it yunho will be more than happy to tap into it calling you little and bending you're tiny body in various position where he will look and feel huge over you just to make you shake and whine for him <3

the main thing that gets yunho's blood boiling is very simple: control.

well that's now that he is comfortable with you. because the first time you were intimate i feel like he was very very shy and you even thought it was cute how he got flustered the first time he saw you undress for him or how blushy he got the first time you told him how big he was (more big cock!yunho down below heheheheheh)

but as soon as he became comfortable the golden retriever boy vibe was out of the window as soon as you stepped in the bedroom.

yunho is a dom. plain and simple.

what he wants is for you to submit. he's not even necessarily the mean dom type (he def can be though) he's just the kind that would enjoy for you to be blindfolded or other kind of sensory deprivation or even bounded (if you're into that) he will go absolutely crazy for that

he would enjoy controlling you, getting you to lie down blindfolded and having you be completely at his mercy. He would trace his big hands across your nude skin and leave goose bumps scattered on your body, making you shiver with light touches just to get your blood boiling. He loves to see you pant and squirm with just a few touches. He’s the kind to tease like this until you have no choice but to beg him for more.

there only the real fun would begun skdlsklslkdls

most of the time yunho is making love to you. he doms you but he’s gentle, he whispers words of affirmation in your ear and is very attentive to your queues. he is very observant and will know when to stop/slow down/keep going. and particularly when he penetrates you. Since he's like big big. he always makes sure to go real slow. the one first stroke is always slow and deep, he pushes his big fat cock into you very slowly so you have time to adapt to him. and how he loves to see your lips go round when he bottoms out and his cock comes to kiss your cervix. h absolutely loves to hear your little gasps.

but most of the time you don’t take too long because he already prepped you with a nice session of fingering (and maybe one orgasm or two hehe). yunho doesn't have a hand kink himself but if you have one (if you are a yunho stan lets be honest here you have one lol) he will ABSOLUTELY TAKE ADVANTAGE OF THAT. at first it always starts as a joke to tease you. he knows how much you like his hands and he just loves to tease. at first he just strokes your thighs just to look at you hold your breath and ogling how his hand wraps perfectly around your thigh and how his veins pop out on his forearms when he squeezes your thigh a little. he plays it off as if he’s just minding his business pretending he’s unware of the effect he has on you but when you catch on to his teasing and playfully hit him he just throw his head back and laughs with that crystal clear laugh and creased eyes that made you fall for him. (he's just so cute and handsome and cute and handsome and slkdlskdlkdk)

but then his hand goes back to your thighs but with more purpose, it goes higher on your thighs closer to your center earning a little whimper from you and suddenly this sound makes him forget about the joke altogether. now he pushes his fingers inside your mouth, smirking when you instinctively wrap your mouth around them and suck on them while moaning, eyes fluttering close.

he presses his other hand to your clothed core and just rubs you there until you lose your mind before you are even undressed

“you like that baby? you like my fingers in your mouth?” "what's that baby? you want them somewhere else too" *snickers cockily* "so eager" “thats it baby make them nice and wet for me so the slide right in your pretty little pussy”

before you know it he pushes two long fingers inside you making your back arch against his broad chest and broken cries fall off your lips.

one other thing: like i said mingi like to be praised and yunho likes to praise you (thats why yungi is match made in heaven)

he loves to see your reactions every time he praises you.

“that’s my good girl” “baby you feel so good around me” “look at you taking my big cock, you’re doing so great for me”

of course that is interlaced with low groans and pants because i don’t think he’s the type to scream and moan a lot but he’s definitely not the type to keep all the beautiful sounds he can make to himself.

also like i mentioned in other parts of this series yunho is the jealous type. i think possessive even. but like contrary to hongjoong (who would just be upfront about it, confronting the person that hits on you) yunho is more subtle. if he sees you flirting with someone else he would come up behind you and wrap his arm around your waist, throw a defying (and ravaging) smile to his rival. but that’s the thing with yunho. his authority comes from within. he doesn’t even need to use brute force to get his point across he doesn’t need to raise his voice. everything is in the aura. nothing scarier than a mad and angry golden retriever energy boy.

as soon as the opponent taps out yunho is pushing you to a more secluded spot at your current location. If it’s a party it might be a bathroom or an unoccupied room. if it’s a mall it might be a quiet corner of the parking lot. truthfully he doesn’t care because right now he sees red and he needs to remind you that you are his. his only.

he would push you up against the cold concrete wall of the parking lot behind two big cars to be sure no one else can lay their eyes on you and overstim you out in the open until you can’t take it anymore. making you cum on his fingers and cock over and over again until you beg him to stop and he demands an apology from you which you comply to immediately in broken moans and sobs chanting 'sorry’s' and 'i wont do it again’s' until he’s satisfied.

but that is only if you piss him off. so dont piss him off (or do)

i feel like he almost 100% of the times finishes inside you. He just loves to stuff you full and hopefully make you a mom someday (even though he doesn't say it) so he considered this practice for when you are both ready

he loves for you to cockwarm him to sleep after he’s fucked your brains out and you both sleep cuddled up into each other <33333

screaming into the void because how cute (and incredibly hot) can one man be????

BONUS: tw: feet (don't read if it makes you uncomfy <3). idk if my brain’s chemistry was permanently altered by all the memes about this but i have started to believe yunho is actually into feet (yeah boo me if u wanna) when you think about it foot fetish is one of the most common one literally the most vanilla flavored kink ever (i don't make the rules) so it’s not impossible and i dont think it’s improbable. so here you go for this bonus: i feel like yunho likes the mating press for this very reason. because that way with your thighs pressed to your chest he gets to see your feet. when he pounds into you and he feels he’s close he would take hold of your foot and bring it to his face, heavily breathing and panting, getting your toes into his mouth and groan as he fills you up full of cum. one other way he likes to include some feet play is just to get a foot job, he would press both your feet together fuck his fat and mighty cock right between them. and nothing gets him more feral than to do that before he takes you and fucks your tight little cunt. you like the way he ruts into your feet because every time he does he sounds more rough, more primal then ever and you just think that's a good look on him. (not to mention he gets so worked up it’s guaranteed that he’s going to wreck your whole word right after) <3

IF U WANNA HELP ME PLEASE REBLOG WITHOUT USING THE COMMUNITY LABELS 🖤

want to see another member? request it in the comments or asks <3

realistic sex with seonghwa, with mingi, with wooyoung | ateez masterlist | navigation

#yunho smut #yunho hard thoughts #yunho hard hours #ateez smut #ateez hard hours #ateez hard thoughts #yunho #yunho ateez #yunho fanfic #yunho x reader #jeong yunho #ateez yunho #kpop smut #yunho x you #ateez #ateez fanfic #yunho fluff

1K notes · View notes

mjolnirswriststrap · 2 months

Text

Not My Type

Bucky Barnes x Plus Size!Reader x Steve Rogers

Word Count: 2,329 Masterlist Part 2

Summary: Bucky is dumb.

Warnings: Fatphobia.

A/N: something short, sweet and simple because I’m starting to feel guilty about not posting 😭

Steve watched, as his friend searched around the club with his eyes. He could assume Bucky was just waiting on the rest of their coworkers to get there, but he knew better. “She’ll get here soon enough, relax.”. Steve leans his back against the booth and takes a long drink of his beer. “Who?” Bucky asks, unconvincingly.

“Y/N.” He says like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. Bucky scrunches up his face “As if, man.” He ignores the look of disbelief Steve gives him. “Why deny it? I’ve caught you staring her down more times than I can count.”. Steve stands up and waves to signal Natasha to where they sat. “There’s nothing to deny, she’s not my type, leave it there so no one’s feelings get hurt, okay?” Bucky puts the bottle to his lips to shush himself when he sees you approach the booth.

“You guys look.” Steve’s speechless as he takes in the silk nighties the girls adorned. They all wore semi matching babydoll dresses. Color coded fishnets and heeled slippers adorned their long legs. Their hair was high and teased, makeup adding to the sultry bedtime look they were going for.

“You’re gonna catch flies.” Wanda remarks, leaving to find Vision having the time of his life with the DJ. Steve’s reaction to their costumes did nothing to calm your nerves. You went with the housewife costume too. Just a different approach entirely. Your hair sat in victory rolls atop your head, a thick stack of curls laying on your shoulders, a knee length dress with three quartered sleeves covered you. You’re painted your eyebrows on thinly, just to over line your lips, filling them in with your favorite red Mac lipstick. You were the most modest in your costume, but the most accurate.

You couldn’t wear a see through nightgown to the club. You would die of embarrassment, your rolls would be everywhere. At least in this thick cotton dress, no one could see the layers of shape wear you wore. You slid into the booth and sat beside Steve, getting sandwiched in when Sam finally arrives, late with no costume. “What took you so long, huh khakis?” You tease him, feeling nothing but comfort in his presence.

“You ever had to tell a 10 year old his idea isn’t good enough.” He laughs, “, You should go as yourself Unc!” He recalls the boys words over the phone. “Oh, of course, looks like a superhero to me!” You giggle, loving the thought of his nephews building up his self esteem. He was new to the team, no super strength or speed. Just courage, you admired Sam.

You finally take the chance to look around the booth. Steve wore his vintage Captain America suit, claiming it still fits like a glove. Bucky didn’t wear a costume, just his regular black t-shirt and leather jacket, no effort, even for Halloween. It helped Sam not look so out of place, so you just rolled your eyes at him. He tried way to hard to act like he didn’t care about anything, or anyone. You hate people like that, too self absorbed to carry on a conversation with someone who doesn’t benefit them.

You had been on the wrong side of his attitude before. Bumbling up to him after your first meeting. Stretching out your hand for a shake, he barely touched your hand as he shook your fingers, nodding at you with a curt “Welcome.” You didn’t think much of it till he sat beside Yelena, who got recruited the same day as you, and sparked up a lively conversation with her, telling her if she needs anything at the compound to come ask him. That was the first time Bucky hurt your feelings, and it wouldn’t be the last.

“Y/N!” Someone yells at you from the dance floor. It’s Yelena dancing alone, “You promised me a dance.” She says, holding her arms out for you. You nudge Sam on the shoulder and do the most embarrassing scoot out of the booth you could imagine. Your dress rode up in the time you’d been sitting there, causing your thighs to stick to the old leather. Your face grimaces and you peel your skin away, hoping no one noticed.

“I’m on the dance floor, as promised.” You say, holding her hands while she dances on you. “You’re gonna need to do more than stand there if you want him to notice you.” She remarks, not skipping a beat. Yelena knew you too well, she knew you picked the 40s for a reason, not going with their free spirit 60s slumber get up.

Giving her a wide eyed look, as if he heard over the thumping music. “We both know I have no rhythm, stop that.” You giggle when she presses her back against you and slides down into a squat. She goes behind you and grabs your hips, forcing you against her chest. She grinds you into her pelvis, using her hands to guide your hips in sync with hers. You never moved that way before, and the sensuality of it had your heart racing. Yelena could be anyone, tightly holding on to you, you closed your eyes and threw your head back on her shoulder, just to imagine it was him for a moment.

You feel Yelena’s lips tickle your ear and she’s whispering “Look who can’t take their eyes off of you.” You tilt your head down and open your eyes to lock them with Bucky’s. He looks angry, like you pissed in his cheerios. You turn your body around to face Yelena, “I think he’s upset I’m blocking his view from you.”. That causes her to laugh out loud, grabbing your shoulders to shake you. “You’re mad woman! Look at what’s right in front of you.”. You laugh and look behind you to see Bucky staring down his beer now, instead of you.

“Yelena, I don’t know how to put this, he probably doesn’t even go for girls like me, skinny blonde seems more his type. You, you seem more his type.” You plead with her. She just shakes her head, “He doesn’t like me, I promise, Y/N.” You nod your head, trusting the closest friend you had.

You make your way to the bar, grabbing a drink to cool yourself off. You’re walking back to the booth to get off your feet when you overhear Steve and Bucky’s conversation.

“You’ve got to be kidding.”

“You look like a helpless puppy, just make your move.”

“As if I’d need to, she’s probably never had male attention, that’s too easy.”

“Just admit that you’re afraid of rejection.”

“From her? Never in a million years would fatty have a chance. Like I said she’s obviously not my type.”. Bucky instantly regretted the words as they came out of his mouth, he didn’t mean it. But Steve wouldn’t stop accusing him of having a crush on you.

Tears threaten to spill from your eyes, but you push them down. You knew better, Yelena didn’t, you shouldn’t have let her give you false hope. You choke down your pride and turn the corner, sliding into the booth as if nothing happened. “I think this is my last drink guys, I’m getting tired, and winter training starts tomorrow.”.

An echo of ‘boos’ and a “noooo why.” Almost tempt you to stay. But you know you’re not wanted here, by the one person that mattered. Steve catches your attention, “Are you sure? The nights still young.” He wiggles his brows. You give him a tight lipped smile, knowing he tried to get Bucky to make a move.

“Yeah, there’s really not much for me here. I came for Natasha.” He nods, giving Bucky a death glare. You finish your drink and when you stand up the previous shots you had with Wanda hit you. You quickly sit back down, grabbing the table for stability. “Are you alright?” Steve rests his hand on your lower back, scooting closer to you.

You shake your head, not being able to form words. You think you’d faint if you didn’t focus on breathing. “Let me help you home.” He can see the unsure expression on your face. “Wouldn’t be respecting the suit if I didn’t make sure you got home safe.”. With that he convinced you.

When the cold October air hits your face, it sobers you a little bit, taking away the dizzy feeling, leaving you with a thumping head. Steve takes a few minutes to join you outside, you left him in a heated whisper match with Bucky.

You’re leaned against the side of the building when he finds you. “Ready to go?” He offers you his arm but you shake your head. “No need to be such a gentleman, it’s just me.” You say, knowing he’s doing it just to be nice.

Steve cocks his head to the side. “Why shouldn’t I be a gentleman towards you?” He asks. You press your pounding head against the brick wall, closing your eyes to think of the right words. “The only reason a guy needs to be a gentleman is for good impressions. I highly doubt you feel a need to impress me.”.

He scoffs at you, “What gives you the impression that you’re not worth impressing?”. Even though you were tipsy, Bucky’s words seared your frontal lobe. You suddenly are at a loss for words. How do you tell him you were eavesdropping on their conversation.

“I just don’t get much male attention I guess.” You let him in, his eyes widen in realization that you heard Bucky’s harsh words. “I’m sorry about him, he doesn’t know what he’s talking about.” He says, stepping closer to you. You roll your eyes at him.

“No, he knew exactly what he was talking about. Fatty is no one’s type. No one looks at me and thinks “woah, the most beautiful woman in the world just walked in the room”.” You push yourself off the wall. “I understand that you wouldn’t get that, since you’re so perfect Steve. Women lay down at your feet, your options are endless. But not for someone like me.”.

Steve’s face had turned into a stone. His jaw clenched tightly. He let you vent out your frustrations. “The way you looked at the girls, the way half the club looked at the girls, I’ll never have that.”. You look at your feet and notice him take a step closer to you. You look up to see your faces not too far apart.

“I was looking at you too.” He reaches out, letting his hands hover over your waist. He rests them on your hips when your don’t push him away. “I don’t care what he said, he’s just insecure, he can’t admit that he thinks you’re hot.” You scoff at him this time.

“Steve whatever you’re doing, I get the whole nice guy thing. But just stop.” You say, pressing your hand against his chest. The thin polyester did nothing to conceal his smooth muscles. You feel him squeeze your sides tighter, his thumbs pressing into your belly. “He doesn’t speak for me.”.

You look into his dark eyes. “What are you saying?”. You’d never even humored yourself by considering Steve. You now had to rethink every encounter you ever had with him. “Forget him, let me show you how a real man appreciates a woman.”

He slides his hands down, letting them grasp as much of your ass that could fit in them. You gasp, he wasn’t afraid of your body, he knows what it has to offer. Judging by the way he gripped on to your ass like his life depended on it, he liked it.

“What if someone sees?” You say, pushing his hands off of you. He replaces them “I’m not afraid, why are you?” He leans down, connecting your lips, you’re frozen for a moment. How do you kiss him back? Before you could find out you feel a hand on your shoulder, ripping you away from Steve.

“What are you doing?” Bucky is talking to his friend, ignoring your existence. “Excuse me, we were in the middle of something.” Steve steps between you and Bucky. “You shouldn’t be out here hooking up with a random coworker.” Bucky says, trying to convince himself.

“Y/N isn’t a random coworker, Jesus Bucky, what’s your problem?” Steve asks, letting his anger show. He knew what he was doing, if Bucky wouldn’t admit it on his own, jealousy would work just fine. Bucky balls up his fists at his side “You know what my problem is.”.

You’re staring at Steve’s back, you don’t know what Bucky’s talking about. Is he so repulsed by a plus size woman, he doesn’t even want his friend with one? You were done, you’d never done anything to Bucky besides exist. He had an imaginary problem with you.

You stepped around Steve, crossing your arms in front of your chest. You don’t know where the boost of confidence came from, probably Steve’s lips and hand placement. You look Bucky up and down, truly taking him in.

He was perfect, and he knew it. It was starting to disgust you. “Just because ‘fattys’ like me have no chance with you, doesn’t mean that I’m not worthy of another man being attracted to me.” You take a step back, pressing yourself against Steve. Just to show Bucky, you meant business.

Basing it off of the hard indentation on the front of Steve’s spandex, he liked watching you tell Bucky off. You turn your body around to face him, throwing a look over your shoulder at Bucky, “Take me home Stevie.” You sing song in his ear.

A smirk falls on his lips, “Let’s do that princess.” He says while leading you out of the alley. Bucky is stuck in place, having an internal war with himself, that you weren’t gonna stick around for.

828 notes · View notes

sebbianas · 7 months

Text

After the war Minerva becomes Hogwarts’ Headmistress and so she had to finally clear out her beloved office and dorm in the Gryffindor Tower for the next Head of Gryffindor. Its been years since she started there and she knows she’ll have to go through a lot of old essays, books, and letters.

It was halfway through her cleaning did she discover a bunch of essay she did when she sat all her 7th year Gryffindor down to ask them what their plans are. The essay was simple, answer the question “where do you see yourself in 10 years?”. It’s a yearly thing she does with her graduating students just so she can keep track of where they’ll be and where she can finds them.

Minerva wasn’t sure which batch this essay belongs to so she was a bit excited to see who’s essay it all belongs to and see if they end up doing what they said they will. With a swish of her wand the papers straightened themselves and she was able to see the first essay on top.

Her heart immediately broke.

Sirius Black

I have no plans 10 years from now but inside those 10 years I want to explore the world. I want to see everything until I get sick of it, I want to be everywhere. I want to buy the stupidest shit things to bring home to my friends and hopefully my brother. 10 years is a long time to fix a broken relationship, right?

Minnie knew the other essay will destroy her but seeing these student’s handwriting would give her so much comfort.

Lily Evans

Quite realistically 10 years is a short time to be something great or historical, I wish to explore what this world can offer to me and show it what i can offer it. I want to prove myself more than just my magical blood. I am a great witch and I wish to prove that to the world. Along with this I hope to raise a family of my own, nurture a home that is full of compassion, kindness, and love.

Remus Lupin

I don’t have any great expectations for my future, if I get a stable job then I’ll be okay. What I hope to see in 10 years is that the family I have with me now are still there with me.

Mary MacDonald

10 years from now I hope the war is over and I am free to be a fashion designer for the muggle world and the wizarding world.

Marlene Mckinnon

I want to be the greatest quidditch player there is. I want little girls to look at me and realize they can do whatever they want, I want to give them hope that there is more to life than boys putting you down. I want to show them that there is strength in trying and there is strength in their femininity. I want to be the voice that I spent my whole childhood looking for.

Peter Pettigrew

I hope I’m braver than I am now, stronger than I am, and finally comfortable in who I am and who I become.

There was no controlling the tears that fell from Minnie’s eyes, she couldnt hole them back anymore. There was 1 more essay and she knew whatever’s inside it will destroy her even more.

James Potter

10 years from now, I hope the war is over and I was able to keep everyone I love safe.

Minnie holds the papers to her chest. She never had children of her own but these kids? These children she never watch grow up? These kids are hers.

#minerva mcgonagall #james potter #sirius black #remus lupin #peter pettigrew #lily evans #mary macdonald #marlene mckinnon

2K notes · View notes

surftrips · 4 months

Text

BAD REPUTATION | LUKE CASTELLAN

HEARTBREAKER — CHAPTER 02

pairing luke castellan x fem!ares!reader

summary y/n is challenged by campers and her growing feelings for luke castellan.

author's note thank you for all the support on this series! i made a masterlist here so you can easily find the parts <3 as always, comment or message me if you'd like to be added to the taglist and lmk your thoughts :)

→ installment of this au read for context

Luke Castellan found it increasingly harder and harder to hide his feelings for you. He could no longer make eye contact with you without his face turning an embarrassing shade of red. In fact, he could hardly look at your face because somehow his eyes would always end up darting toward your lips, or even lower if you were wearing a certain tank top that day.

“My eyes are up here, Castellan,” you quipped at him once.

Quite frankly, it was ruining his own reputation around camp as the best swordsman and a stoic warrior. If word got out that he fell to his knees at the hands of an Ares girl, what would people think of him?

As stories of your excellent skills got around, so did rumors about you. Everyone was interested to hear whose heart you had broken next, all because of that first fateful incident with a camper named Connor.

Connor, son of Apollo, thought that he could challenge you to an archery competition. He had bet that if he won, he could take you out on a date. How could you resist the urge to prove him wrong?

A small crowd had gathered to watch the two of you. Some people rooted for Connor, trusting that his combat skills would be stronger because of his father. However, the innate strength and talent from your own godly father allowed you to become familiar with the bow and arrow rather quickly.

“Careful, or one of your siblings will have to heal you later,” you warned.

“Oh, I think you’re the one that’s going to end up at my cabin later,” Connor responded snarkily.

You hated losing. It wasn’t an option for you. You didn’t care that Connor technically had the upper hand here, you were going to beat him regardless.

The rules were simple: there were four targets. Whoever hit the most points, won.

Connor went first, hitting an impressive 34 points.

“Beat that, pretty girl.”

You tried not to cringe at his nickname for you, and confidently walked up to the front. You quickly scanned the crowd, eyes landing on the brunette-haired boy you didn't realize you were looking for. Luke smiled at you, and suddenly everyone else faded away.

Turning back toward the targets, you lined up your bow and arrow and took the first shot. You hit eight points, which was not bad, but you were going to have to do better in order to win.

Trying to hone in on your training, you closed your eyes for the next shot and trusted your instincts. You heard the arrow hitting wood and before you could open your eyes, cheers had erupted from the crowd. Bullseye.

With 17 points left to beat Connor, you had to hit at least another bullseye. And you did just that.

Turning to Connor, you said, “Any last words before I take this final shot?”

“What time am I picking you up tonight?” he said, not losing hope just yet. You had to give it to him and his tireless persistence.

Your eyes focused in on the last target, until all you could see was the gold center. It kind of looked like the sun, and reminded you of a certain someone. You released the arrow, but at the last second felt your finger flinch.

Shit, you thought. But the crowd had already begun cheering again, and you breathed out a sigh of relief. You had hit eight on the last one, just enough to win.

“Okay, who’s next?” you declared triumphantly, not missing the disappointed look on Connor's face.

After the competition, Luke walked over to congratulate you on your win.

“Hey, that was sick!” He placed his hand on your shoulder.

“Hey, thanks!”

“You’re not beating yourself up over that last one, are you?”

“Wh- how’d you know?” You were silently cursing yourself for not making that last bullseye and blowing Connor completely out of the water.

“I know you, Y/N. Don’t look so surprised.”

“Okay, well, what am I thinking right now?”

“Hmmm,” he pretended to be lost in thought. “Dinner?”

“You know me so well.”

Ever since then, various people at camp had challenged you to their own duels in an effort to ask you out, just for you to beat them time and time again.

You weren’t sure why anyone thought you would be interested in them, when you had not once expressed a want for any sort of romantic entanglements. Because that’s all they were to you, entanglements. Complicated messes that were hard to get out of.

“Okay, I need boy advice,” Annabeth announced.

“No,” you responded. This was the first of many sleepovers you, her, and Clarisse would have together.

“What do you mean, ‘no’?”

“That’s my advice, do yourself a favor and just don’t.”

“Okay, what’s the story?” the young girl asked.

“I dated this guy once. Long story short, all men do is disappoint you. It’s not worth it.”

“I second that,” Clarisse joined in.

“Wait- who do you like?” you asked, processing Annabeth’s original question.

“Oh, forget it. I’m not gonna tell you guys now,” she responded.

“No, you have to tell us!” Clarisse insisted.

When Annabeth didn’t respond, you and Clarisse began throwing pillows at her.

“Stop! Stop!” she giggled. “Fine, fine. I’ll tell you guys.”

You and Clarisse waited with baited breath as Annabeth formed his name in her mouth. “Percy.”

Chaos ensued. You’re pretty sure that you squealed loud enough to break glass and Clarisse nearly woke up the cabin on the other side of camp. Luckily for you guys, it was a weekend that many of the campers had gone home for.

“Why are you guys cheering?” Annabeth asked, confused.

“Because we’re happy for you! Your first crush is so exciting!” Clarisse said.

Annabeth had always been like a younger sister to you and Clarisse, and you couldn’t help but be happy for her, despite your personal feelings about love.

“Y/N, what do you think?” Annabeth turned to you.

“I think you don’t even need our advice. Just be yourself, I’m sure he already thinks you’re amazing.”

The young girl beamed at you. “I thought you were anti-boys.”

“I am, if it were up to me, there would be no boys here.”

“Not even Luke?” Annabeth asked, feigning innocence.

“Well, is he a boy?” you responded.

“Yeah, but not just any boy….” Clarisse joined in.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” you sat up on your elbows in bed.

“Y/N, just admit it! He’s different!” Annabeth said.

“No, he’s still just a boy,” you said, trying to convince them, or yourself.

Annabeth and Clarisse looked at each other knowingly, but dropped the subject before upsetting you further.

The truth was, the thought of Luke Castellan terrified you.

At first, you didn’t want to admit it. There was no way Luke Castellan liked you, and there was absolutely no way that you liked him back. Not in any universe, above or on earth. Not after you had made it your whole mission to swear off boys completely.

Sure, you constantly picked each other as partners in Capture the Flag, sat next to each other over bonfires, and talked to each other everyday, but nothing friends didn’t do.

You tried to be oblivious to his longing glances at you, the way his face lit up when he saw you, but Annabeth and Clarisse were not shy in pointing out each time he smiled at you like you hung the moon and stars.

For years, Luke had repressed his emotions for fear of being perceived as weak. But each time you came around, he wondered if love could even be equated to weakness if he had never felt anything stronger.

Liked by lukecastellan and 170 others.

tagged annaaabeth and clarisse

ynuser with the girls 🏹💕

view all comments.

annaaabeth love youuu

clarisse so much fun!

lukecastellan ur foul for that last pic

ynuser whose side are you on

percyjackson second pic is me to you when i don't get invited to the sleepover :(

—

TAGLIST: @ravisinghs-wife @jules-loves-lukecastellan @favreader23 @clydeisalsoellie @yuminako @luxreziaa @eddiesdrummergf @whataprettyshadeofred @grace-928 @girls-and-guts @supercutszns @noodlesketchbook @birdiewriteslit @mitskiswift99 @idontevencare1223 @randomnpc456 @lucycarlisleswife @angelicdanvers @imguce @anitatvd (please lmk if you want to be added or i missed you!)

#bad rep series #luke castellan #luke castellan x reader #percy jackson series #percy jackson #pjo #charlie bushnell #charlie bushnell x reader #luke castellan imagine #percy jackson x reader #pjo x you #luke castellan x you

911 notes · View notes

calmcoldevening · 10 months

Text

Pov: You knew slashers, when you was a child (Slashers x fem!reader)

I'm back! Well, it os a lazy post from my drafts, until I end my new idea <3

TW: no

Characters: Thomas Hewitt, Brahms Heelshire, brothers Sinclair

P.S.: English is not my native language, so lot of these words was translated by simple translator, sorry for misspells and e.t.c.

Enjoy this!

Thomas Hewitt

The transition to a new school has always been a great stress for a child, especially in the middle of the school year.

You and your parents often moved from city to city. Maybe it was their work, or maybe they just wanted to show you as many different places as possible so that your childhood would remain really memorable — you didn't know. But the constant moving was followed by a change of schools and kindergartens. On the one hand, you liked it — new acquaintances, interests and a lot of positive emotions, after all, you were a cheerful and active child — but it also brought its inconveniences — you didn't have "best" friends, you had no more than a couple of months to communicate with each of them, and multiple the change of the team has made you a real chameleon in society.

You were ten years old when you and your parents moved to Texas. The age when most classes have already been divided into peculiar interest groups, which are quite difficult for a new person to join. That's why your mom decided to bake cookies that you could distribute to new classmates. Who doesn't like homemade cakes? You actively participated in the cooking process. A little more practice, and you could learn these cookies on your own. As soon as the treat was ready — several pieces were successfully taken away by your father — your mother beautifully put it in a colored box, now tied with a ribbon. The inscription "Welcome" was painted on the lid in gold paint.

It was very hot in this area of Texas. Therefore, on your first day of school, you decided to limit yourself to a beautiful white T-shirt with some simple pattern and black shorts. The first impression is the most important, right? Your mom took you to school by car. At the reception desk, your mom introduced you and found out the number of the right office. After kissing you goodbye on the cheek, she left you to your own luck. Although you were already used to it, a nervous feeling of anticipation bubbled somewhere in your chest; your palms were sweating.

After a good seven minutes, you were standing in front of the right class, 212, clutching a box of cookies to your chest. Adjusting the strap of the gray backpack, you exhaled anyway.

Your homeroom teacher, Mrs. Sullivan, introduced you in the office. A lovely woman with curly locks hanging down on both sides of her face and freckled cheeks. Her soft figure, dressed in a white blouse and a black pencil skirt, caused a surge of strength and confidence in you. The woman lightly put her arm around your shoulders, so motherly, and asked you to tell about yourself.

"My name is Y/N Y/L," your voice trembled slightly while your gaze ran over the children sitting in the classroom, "I'm ten. I like animals and beading... Mm, my parents and I move around a lot, so I don't think I'll stay here for more than two months. I hope we'll become friends."

You ended your performance with a sincere warm smile. Mrs. Sullivan asked you to take an empty seat. Your choice fell on the farthest place by the window; a guy was sitting behind it, hunched over and staring at the street. Was he weird? No, rather unusual. He had long black hair, so unusual for a boy; his gaze was lowered somewhere on the dusty road near the school, so you couldn't see his eyes. Sitting down next to him, you quickly took out a notebook and pencil from your backpack.

"Hello?"

The boy seemed startled by your voice. He looked at you uncertainly, and you saw a face wrapped in bandages. Sad cornflower blue eyes peeked out from under the white cloth.

"I'm Y/N," you whisper, holding out your hand to the boy, "And what's your name?"

There was no response. Disappointed, you lowered your hand, now paying attention to the teacher's explanation. The woman was writing down her words on the blackboard, and you quickly began copying them into your notebook, clutching a pencil until it crackled.

There was something about this boy that attracted you. It doesn't matter if it was his shyness or isolation — you decided that you definitely want to make friends with him.

At recess, you approached a group of girls. They were dressed up like girls from fashion magazines that you often saw in kiosks by the road.

"Hi," — you said with a light smile.

"Well, hello," said one of the girls, popping a bubble of gum.

"I want to ask. M, that boy," you pointed to the long—haired boy, "What's his name? I asked, and he ignored me."

"Haha, he won't answer you. That's our little Tommy," another girl hissed sarcastically, giggling, "Thomas Hewitt is weird. Very strange. I heard that his father is his brother!"

"And he's also a terrible freak!"

You awkwardly put your hand in your hair. Thomas didn't look as disgusting as the girls described him. It's all rumors. And what to take from these children, they probably didn't even try to talk to Hewitt!

You didn't talk to this company anymore. After waiting for lunch, when all the children went out to the garden at the school, you again approached the boy. He didn't budge. It seems he hasn't even written anything since you sat down next to him.

"Hey, hello?" you waved your palm in front of the guy's face, "Thomas, right?"

This time the boy paid attention to you. There was no emotion visible under the thick layer of bandages, but you were sure that he arched an eyebrow questioningly. He's wondering how you know his name?

"You were sitting alone, so I came over. Your name is Thomas, right?" you repeated the question, finally the boy nodded, "That's wonderful! I'm Y/N, let's get acquainted."

Smiling happily, you hand the guy an open box of cookies. Golden crust with chocolate chips. You had no desire to share such a delicious thing with such terrible and tactless people. And Tommy. Tommy was different. He was timid and calm, unable to cause harm.

"Help yourself," you babble, sitting down next to Hewitt, "I made them myself! Not without my mommy's help, of course..."

You blush slightly and see Thomas's eyes narrow. He smiled! He seems to be starting to like your company.

"Can I call you Tommy?"

• Thomas has become noticeably happier since you met him. The boy began to spend more time outside the house, in your company (Luda was very surprised by this, because usually after school Tommy always came home and sat in his room).

• For your birthday, Thomas himself sewed a soft toy for you, a fox, as he found out later, this is one of your favorite animals. The toy was sewn from different, but matching pieces of fabric, a little sloppy, but quite skillfully. It made you smile. You threw your arms around Hewitt for joy.

• Once you praise him, Tommy immediately blushes a lot. It's good that it's not visible under the layer of bandages. From the moment you became friends, Thomas's self-esteem has risen a little.

• When you first offered to help Thomas change the bandages, he strongly refused. The boy just couldn't let you see his face. But when he finally gave up, Hewitt was pleasantly surprised that you didn't scream and run away. You didn't call Tommy a freak or a monster, but only sympathetically stroked his scarred cheeks.

• Over time, you began to understand Thomas without words, absolutely. You found the right answers in his movements, grunting, awkward head turning or excessive gesticulation. Even Luda was a little amazed at your nonverbal communication, but the woman was glad that her son finally found a real friend.

• Tommy often showed you his drawings. It was like the scribble of a five-year-old child, but you were always happy to accept the leaves and hang them over your bed. Basically, Thomas drew his family: angry Charlie in the corner of the paper, Monty sitting next to him in a chair, a little further away, Luda was cooking, and in the center of the drawing you and Thomas holding hands and smiling.

• It was the first time you begged your parents to stay in this city longer. Fortunately, they agreed after seeing your enthusiasm for the "strange boy".

Brahms Heelshire

• Your parents and the Healers kept in touch for a while, you can say your families were very close. You first met Brahms on his fifth birthday. He was a very well-mannered but private boy, so Mrs. Heelshire was only too happy to introduce you.

• At first, your communication did not work out. Brahms was a rude child in places, took away your toys and teased you.

• His true attitude towards you showed up when you didn't come to his house, although you were visiting the Heelshire family every Monday and Wednesday. He was seriously worried. All morning Brahms sat in his room by the window and looked at the road going through the forest, waiting for your little body in your favorite blue dress to appear from behind the trees. But you were never there. It turned out that you were just sick. That day Brahms went to your house and did not leave your bed, squeezing your hot palm.

• Your parents worked most of the time, so they were not against your games with Heelshire Jr. You stayed in their house more and more often, sometimes even overnight, and you and Brahms made noise all night, forcing his mother to swear. But still, the woman was glad that at least Brahms was behaving quite comfortably and boldly with someone.

• You were only a couple of months younger than Brahms, but you thought it was a good reason to tease you.

• The boy allowed you to enter his room without knocking, consider it a worthwhile privilege, because Heelshire does not let everyone into his personal space.

• When you were sad, Brahms brought you bouquets of flowers hastily made with his own hands. That's why his palms were green most of the time.

• Brahms makes wonderful sandwiches. He often makes them when the two of you are having a "picnic" in the garden. Although in fact he agrees to it only to admire you.

• Heelshire loves sweets very much. Very. His mom doesn't allow the boy a lot of sweets and cakes, so you secretly bring them to him from home. The boy is insanely happy.

• Brahms loves kissing. This habit, or rather the need, appeared in him because you praised the boy in this way. Has he finally cleaned the room? A kiss. Did he break his mom's precious vase during the catch-up today? A kiss! So now he can demand them for any reason. He especially likes it when you kiss him before going to bed, and Brahms falls asleep hugging you.

• You're his best friend. That's why Brahms trusts you with all his secrets. You are the only one to whom he has told about the strange and frightening thoughts that sometimes sound in his head.

"Good night," Mrs. Heelshire said, turning off the light and closing the door behind her.

You smile and blow her a kiss, covering your mouth with your palm. When the woman's footsteps recede, you exhale with relief, plopping down on the pillow with force. Squinting your eyes, you wrinkle your nose, trying to blow away the stuck strands of hair from your face. Brahms giggles and gently tucks your hair behind your ear.

The room is cool. The window is slightly ajar, letting in a light autumn wind. The curtains are swaying from side to side, taking chaotic frightening shadows.

You get under the covers up to your nose. Brahms follows your example, pressing his whole body against you, and you stroke his head.

"If I ever do something very, very bad, will you stay with me?" Heelshire whispers, looking up at you.

You look into his sad emerald eyes and laugh. He likes to put pressure on your pity, because he knows that at such moments you see him as a tiny abandoned kitten.

"I don't think you'd do anything so bad, Brahms."

"But if I do. What if everyone turns away from me. Even mom and dad. Will you stay with me?"

You pressed your lips together, frowning. Brahms had never asked such strange questions before. And how can a child who is only eight years old think about something like that after a while. Looking down at the ceiling, you turned your head, looking into Brahms' eyes.

"Yes. I'll stay."

"Honestly?" Heelshire asks incredulously.

"Honestly."

"Promise?"

"Yes, I promise you, silly boy!" you abruptly cover his face with a blanket, holding the edges on both sides of his head.

The boy was kicking, trying to get out from under your weight, while you tried not to laugh. Taking pity on his futile attempts, you took off the blankets, admiring Brahms' flushed face. Heelshire was breathing heavily, and his cheeks and nose were burning like Chinese lanterns that your parents launched on your birthday.

"I won. Again," you grin.

Brahms is silent. You sigh and lie down again, turning your back to Heelshire. Your eyes are shining with joy, and your lips continue to curve in a smug grin. You know that Brahms will not dare to do something to you in return. He always let you get away with such antics. Absolutely always.

When you are ready to fall asleep, through the chatter in your head you hear a plaintive whisper. Having opened your leaden eyelids, you groan with displeasure.

"Kiss me," Brahms whines, and you get up on your elbows, chuckling softly.

"Okay," you kiss Heelshire on the lips, "Good night, Brahms."

• "Now I've won," Brahms croaks, pressing you against the wall and spreading his hands on both sides of your head. Just like a child. Except now he's not the victim here, but you. Although was he ever a victim in your games? Rather, he always played the role of a presenter, you just didn't notice it, as if you were looking through your fingers. And who would have thought that that innocent little boy would ever stand in front of you, towering over your body by a good two heads, and grinning with eyes shining in anticipation through the black slits of the mask.

Sinclairs

Christmas is the most mysterious and magical holiday of the year; the day when the whole family gathers at one big table to properly celebrate this moment together; the day when you receive a lot of gifts from all kinds of relatives, which you sometimes did not realize; the day when all wishes come true.

You clumsily shuffled along the road, shaking your back every now and then to adjust the heavy backpack. Things inside rattled a lot, and you tried to straighten your back faster to avoid crumpled packages.

Christmas was your favorite holiday. And although your parents have been working constantly lately, you were glad that you could spend this family holiday with your friends.

You met not so long ago, only about four months ago, when you first moved here. Ambrose turned out to be a very nice and cozy city with friendly and caring people. Mrs. Sinclair, Trudy, and your mom became friends right away— their interests converged on art. That's when I met her sons, the woman suggested that you make friends with them because of their similar age. And it turned out to be a very good idea. The boys quickly became addicted to you.

Once again adjusting the canvas straps of the backpack, you quickly climb the steps requested by the snow and knock on the sand-colored door several times. On the other side, there is a fussy shuffling and dissatisfied grumbling.

"Hello," you say, smiling, when the door swings open in front of you, revealing a view of the timid Vincent.

The guy nods to you and opens the door wider, motioning you to enter. You kiss Sinclair on the cheek of the mask. Brushing off your feet at the threshold, you quickly take off your shoes and leave your backpack at the shoe shelf. Music from an old radio is coming from the kitchen, some station unknown to you is playing old songs from the seventies. As soon as you entered the room, Vincent stood at the stove again, frying something in a frying pan. Whenever Trudy was busy making figures and arranging a museum that she someday wanted to open, it was Vincent who did the cooking and other household duties. Bo was stubborn and didn't want to do "women's" work, and Lester was still too young for such a large-scale activity. The latter was now sitting at the table and skillfully sliced an apple with a hunting knife into neat pieces.

"Morning, Lester," passing by the boy, you leave a small kiss on his forehead.

"Hi, Y/N!" Sinclair winces contentedly, flapping his big copper eyes.

You sit down next to the boy and imperceptibly take a piece of apple from under his nose, throwing it into his mouth contentedly. There were already several plates and cutlery on the table. Vincent loved order, so he prepared everything in advance.

"Where's Bo?" you ask, rocking slightly in your chair, for which you get a menacing look from Vincent.

"Mom asked him to help at the museum," Lester replied, "He should be back soon."

You notice how Vincent turns off the stove and turns his whole body in your direction. The guy takes a notebook lying on the table and quickly scribbles something.

"Have you had breakfast?"

"Yes," you say shortly, when Vincent closes the notebook and puts it back, "Honestly."

Sinclair puts the hot omelette on plates and pushes you a bowl of oatmeal cookies. You happily take one piece. Vincent sits down across from Lester and lifts the mask just enough to see his mouth. You frown, noticing the edge of his deep scar.

"Hey everyone," it was heard from the threshold, when the front door slammed shut with force, "Oh, honey, and you're here," Bo walks past you, lightly touching your shoulder in greeting, and sits down next to Vincent.

During brunch, you watch Lester and Bo actively negotiate. When their plates are empty, you decide to step in.

"Since everyone is here," you babble happily, clapping your hands to attract the attention of the guys, "I want to give you gifts a little earlier than planned, do you mind?"

"Of course not," Bo abruptly pushed away from the table, "I'm all for it, babe."

Bo winked at you playfully, to which you rolled your eyes. Vincent signed something, and you looked at Lester. Your sign language was not yet good enough to understand most of the phrases, you barely remembered the words of politeness. That's why you've always relied on little Lester at times like this.

"He said: "Why are you doing this so early?"", Lester explained, innocently blinking his eyes.

"What's the difference," Bo frowned, "Sooner or later — the main thing is that she gave."

You didn't comment on the elder Sinclair's words, but just got up from the table and went to your backpack resting in the hallway. When you came back, the brothers were already sitting in a kind of semicircle on the floor. Bo sprawled impressively closer to the sofa and grinned in anticipation; Lester, in his usual manner, sat cross-legged; while Vincent tucked his knees to his chest.

You sat down between the twins and put the backpack next to you, unzipping it. You said "Close your eyes" and, as soon as the boys fulfilled your request, you began to take out colorful boxes. All packages had the same color, different sizes. Alternately, you put the gifts in front of them and allowed them to watch. Lester giggled when he saw that his box was the biggest.

"Merry Christmas," you drawled, spreading your arms out to the sides.

The very first gift was opened by Lester. The boy happily tore open the package, scattering the paper around him, and screamed when he saw the cherished surprise. A big stuffed fawn. He had a soft beige body and neat brown horns sticking out in different directions. The muzzle was cheerful, with a big nose and shiny button eyes.

"I knitted it especially for you," you babble, smiling, when Lester looks up at you with an enthusiastic look.

"Thank you!" the boy throws himself on your neck with lightning speed, squeezing your body until the bones crunch; you stroke his back.

Bo was a little surprised when he saw a set of tools under the wrapper. He loved tinkering and was well versed in mechanics; the fact that you remembered about this hobby touched the guy a little; his lips curved in a slight smile.

"Well, thanks, babe," Bo grins, patting your hair.

You're pouting a little. All the time spent in the morning combing this tangled nest has gone to waste. You are dissatisfied with blowing off a few strands that caught your eye.

The last person to open his gift was Vincent. The boy very tenderly unwrapped the package, not trying to tear it, as if stretching and savoring this moment. You watched the deft but careful movements of his fingers with burning impatience. Finally, Sinclair took off all the paper, removing it from the side, and looked down at what he saw. A large set with colored pencils. Exactly the one that the boy looked at with undisguised envy in the window of an art store about a month ago. Did you remember that? With slightly trembling hands, Vincent takes the box and turns it in his hands. There were several more drawing pads under it.

Vincent looks at you, and you see the trembling gaze of his azure eyes in the slits of the mask. Such unbelievers, but at the same time grateful. You crawl up to the boy and hug him tightly, nuzzling his neck. Vincent lets out a ragged sigh.

"Merry Christmas to you, boys," you congratulate them once again, seeing the boys' satisfied smiles.

"So why did you decide to give it to us so early?" Lester asked, clutching the toy to his chest.

"Oh, that," you awkwardly fix your hair, "Well, my parents decided to leave. To another state. We'll leave tonight. So I thought I could have some fun with you now."

There was an oppressive silence in the room. You were afraid to look up, but you could feel the disappointment on the boys' faces. Your heart was painfully squeezed in your chest, from which you gritted your teeth with a creak.

"Will you come back?" Bo broke the silence.

"I don't know. Dad was offered a job in another state. Mom just said I wouldn't be able to see you."

You looked at each of the boys in turn. Vincent's head drooped, Bo's brows furrowed, and Lester's lips tightened into a crooked thread. The elder Sinclair sighed heavily.

"We'll be waiting. All together," he looked at you from under his brows, "Just try not to come back to us."

• Vincent loves sweets; but, often, Bo takes most of the goodies. That's why you put an envelope with several edible bracelets in one of the donated notebooks. Bo will probably consider them girly and will not take them away from his brother.

• You have been knitting a fawn for Lester for about five days; the boy is very happy with your gift. Your relationship is like a brother and a scary sister. He is always ready to rely on you; Sinclair is glad that he has such a caring person, unlike the same brothers (in particular Bo).

• Trudy adores you. You could say that in these few months she began to perceive you as her own daughter. You even know where the spare keys to the back door of the house are.

• Bo always tries to impress you as a self-sufficient high school student. He saw his father's old magazines with tackles, seduction and other materials not for children, so he decided to train on you. He didn't notice how he fell in love.

• Vincent is a good cook.

• Most of Vinnie's drawings in the new notebooks are you. He will paint your portraits for many years after your leaving.

#slashers x reader #thomas hewitt #thomas hewitt x reader #brahms heelshire #brahms heelsire x reader #lester sinclair #lester sinclair x reader #vincent sinclair #vincent sinclair x reader #bo sinclair x reader #bo sinclair

2K notes · View notes

alicenpai · 10 months

Text

my piece for the Hemisphere: a Witch Hat Atelier seasons themed zine! thank you for having me! they're having a leftovers sale until stock runs out 🖋🍀🌷🍁❄🌧 WIPs + inspiration board + symbolism under the cut! got some requests to put this on my inprnt! the site has sales very often & you can grab it as a small or big size print.

I had a pretty good idea of the composition from the get-go. I took inspiration from art nouveau (primarily Alphonse Mucha), German fairy tales, and some 1920s perfume ads. I wanted the girls to look like fairies, akin to The Root Children by Sibylle von Olfers.

Olly just didn't work out in this drawing due to time restraints. I do love him very much though.

I actually kinda stopped making illustrations like these (including the TGAA/DGS tarot card + TGAA/DGS zine pieces a while back) because they were starting to get very hard on my arm, as I had an RSI (repetitive strain injury) a few years back during school. (Not putting the onus on the zines at all ofc! I genuinely love working with zine projects! it's def a me thing WAHAHAHA. my style was getting too anime and too detailed for my liking and everything was just taking forever to finish ngl. but I didn't have time to experiment with a more simple style outside of all of my deadlines)

I think that realizing you need to stop is okay. It's something that Shirahama teaches us in her story and I want to learn to take it to heart.

---

MILD SPOILERS AHEAD (for those who havent read the story I guess)

each character's symbolism:

- Coco - spring, clovers - Coco is the quintessential spring girl, and I wanted her to symbolize new beginnings, and oh boy did Coco bring a big one. The four leaf clover in particular symbolizes luck and good fortune - to some characters, Coco may have brought fortune, to others her presence brings misfortune, take that as you will.

- Tetia - summer, gladiolus - the name "gladiolus" comes from the Latin word "gladius", meaning "sword", based on the shape of the flower. you can interpret it as "you pierce my heart", perfect for a girl like Tetia, who has a contagious energy, with a romantic and grandiose nature.

- Agott - autumn, marigold - I read somewhere marigolds symbolize strength and power, perfect for our little magical powerhouse Agott. They can also symbolize jealousy (yellow flowers in particular have this association), which reflects on her rivalry with Coco in the beginning.

- Riche - winter, snowdrop - The white color of snowdrops has a strong connotation to innocence, which reflects on Riche's wish to stay a child forever. It can also symbolize rebirth and new beginnings (like Coco's clovers), as the snowdrop is the first flower to bloom in the spring, when the snow has not yet melted. I wanted the concept of "rebirth" to associate with Riche's friendship with Euini, and of his sort of "rebirth" into a new being.

- Qifrey - he does not have a flower per se, but as the caregiver and educator of the four girls, he represents the rainy season - precipitation being the one thing that binds all of these seasons together. (Note some areas of the world do not have a rainy season like where I live). I think somewhere along the line I wanted to put hydrangeas behind him, to really bring out the "rainy" theme, but the thought probably got lost somewhere in translation...

- bg flowers - honestly I just picked whatever. white lily, daffodil, hydrangea, zinnia, tulip

2K notes · View notes

arminsumi · 8 months

Note

22 with toji? >___< i love mamaguro but sometimes i be thinkingggg..

˗ˏˋ꒰ 🍒 ꒱

𝐇𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐥 𝐫𝐨𝐨𝐦

A/N: ughhh ikr 🤤😔 ik this goes without saying (hopefully) but y'all don't cheat 😵‍💫 read fiction about ur fave anime boys cheating with u instead lmao

Wc ≈ 800

Pairing: TOJI Fushiguro x f.reader

Summary: you and Toji getting up to no good in your favorite hotel room

Warnings; 🔞 mdni, smut, infidelity, pns (baby, slut, bitch) cheating kink, slight size kink, nasty dirty talk, slightly mean/rough Toji, taking condom off (mutually consensual), breeding kink, slight hairpulling, one ass slap (why is it always just ONE lmao), kinda rough/manhandling but not rlly, daddy kink, prone bone/from the back, lmk if i have missed anything <3

♪ i keep going back to this hotel room...

Damn you, he thinks while squeezing himself into a condom that’s very slightly too small for his size.

You’re to blame – to blame for being spellbinding, bewitching, entrancing, irresistible, alluring… he never thought about straying until you showed up one day in the office, pretty smile and naughty glint in your eyes.

“Fuck me…” he seethes when he sinks into your tight pussy – so happily spreading your legs for him on the hotel bed. With how many times you two have come and gone through this room on weekends, you’re pretty sure the receptionist has figured out what happens behind those closed doors.

“ ‘s so fucking sexy when you arch your back like that for me, pretty thing.” Toji grunts, splitting you wide open on his cock. “ ‘missed me?” he asks cheekily, feeling how much you’re gushing for him after such simple touching earlier – he had kissed you like he was starved of the taste of your lips, touched you like he’s never laid hands on a female form before. It made sense why he acted so needy, you hadn’t seen him for two weekends straight after all.

“Mhm! Missed you so much…” you moan into the pillow, bringing your hands down to spread your pussylips so you can take his cock better.

His cockhead always glides in so nicely, but halfway in his length got so thick that your pussy just spat his cock out. He always chuckles when it does.

“ ‘been too long, baby, ‘gotta stretch out that pussy all over again. Make it remember daddy’s cock.”

Toji tightly pins your waist down into the mattress, just feeling a fraction of his strength turns you on. Yeah, you’ve met strong guys before – but Toji was fucking strong. He could toss you into any position he wanted, he could make you feel weightless at times.

Those calloused hands know your body better than your own. He knows which sweet spots to his to make you cream, what pace makes you claw at his biceps, what dirty talk makes you cum. He knows everything about your body. He almost doesn’t wanna admit it, but he knows your body better than his own wife’s.

“Fuckin’ slut, look at you going dumb on my dick already. Keep it together, we just started.” He chuckled meanly, giving your ass an encouraging smack to bring you back to earth. “What? ‘This position too much for you?” he asked rhetorically – because he knew damn well that you couldn’t handle him pressing his weight onto you from behind like this.

“Nooo, I can take it!” you squeak, biting the hotel pillow as you hug it for support. He always feels so good that you need some form of comfort. The feeling of his fat tip nudging against your sweet spot and throbbing there makes you say some nasty shit that makes him smirk. “Fuuuck – just fuck me alre – fuuuck, mhm! Like that! Like that!” you sob into the pillow when he fulfils your wishes and pounds into you from behind like an animal.

He grabs a fistful of your hair and gently pulls your head back, making his lips meet your ear – scar grazing against your skin. “Don’t go all quiet on me. I know how fucking nasty you are – what’ve you been wanting to tell me huh? I know you missed me bad.”

His cockhead hits the spot that makes you spill the truth. “Fuuuck – daddy fuck me like I’m yours.” You said, “F-fuck me like I’m your wife.”

“Shit… dirty fuckin’ bitch, you talk like that and you’re gonna make me cum.” He breathes heavily into your ear, sweat already beading off his abdomen with his intensely he’s rutting into you. “You really like me, huh? Haha, yeah, I know – it’s so cute. So cute that you cum so much on this cheating cock. Uh-huh, don’t get shy on me now – we both know we get off on that. Just be honest with yourself – there we go, that wasn’t so hard to admit, was it?”

He groans, big arms entangling with your body. You can feel his muscles twitching, you can smell the scent of his cologne and sweat and sex all mixing in the air. And him? He’s burying his head into the crook of your neck to inhale your scent. Your perfume drives him nuts, it makes him dizzy like he’s some lovesick teenager.

Everything he holds back from telling you, he admits when he’s pussy-drunk and about to cum. “Fuck, sweet thing, ‘wanna give you a baby. D’you want that? Yeah? F-fuck really? You sure? You want my babies? Shit alright, I’ll give you a fucking baby t’night. Don’t tell her it’s mine.” He said, tugging his cock out of your pussy despite your walls hugging him like they were trying to keep him in there forever.

You reach behind you and pull off the condom yourself, and he just watches, half-drooling at the sight, before plunging back inside you and doing what he promised – giving you his babies.

2K notes · View notes

rosedom · 23 days

Note

pleasepleaseplease rose i’m begging you on my knees to make a xiao fic i’ll be ur good boy in return !! (can i be pup anon?? ><)

"an unnamed player has invited XIAO to play . . . my, my, sweet madame

✦ㅤㅤ 【 CW 】 dom!top!amab!reader, sub!bottom!ftm!xiao, sex toy (dildo), vaginal fingering to PIV sex, praise & dirty talk, breeding kink (no mpreg), creampie, cockwarming with alluded aftercare .

A/N : i love u, pup ,,, i can't believe i haven't written xiao yet:c

"do you want to watch, [PLAYER]? press KEEP READING to spectate the match."

“Xiaoooo,” you call, stretching the vowel in your mouth. It’s entirely theatric, far too loud when you know that he could hear a whisper all the same; but that doesn't matter, when he pops up in front of you in a hazy dusting of deep emerald and smoke, all of him bare as he stands a hair's-breadth away.

He says nothing, no “You called?” passing the tip of his tongue. Simply, he only cups your face, his touch so welcome—a learned thing, of course, but one you wouldn't have traded for the world.

“Hi, Xiao,” you murmur, leaning forward the already scant distance to kiss him soft, slow, sweet. “Missed you.”

Huffing against you, at the way you had to separate from him to whisper your words, he presses back to you, gently parts his lips for you.

Eager, your mind says; you only smile, taking his invitation to lick into his mouth, across his sharp teeth. His canines dig into the give of your tongue, nicking you without quite drawing blood.

Then, right there on the balcony of the Inn, voice all soft-like and shy, eyes averted as he tucks himself into your throat, he asks, “Please.”

Please. Simple. Straight to the point. Wholly Xiao in the way he can tell you so much, in the language of his body and not his words.

“Okay, okay,” you murmur, because you know what he wants.

You know, and he begins to tell you more: with the way he wraps his strong arms around you and zaps the two of you away to the safe cocoon of your shared bedroom (the very one he insisted that, No, I do not need—that he very much in fact revels in); with the way you’re both sprawled right in the middle of the soft bed, him under you and you balanced on top of him; and with the way his thighs spread so easily, the way his briefs are gone with no more than a breathy whine, how his cunt is a puffy mauve.

He tells you, and he tells you, and he begs you, arching into you with the strength still in his arousal-weakened body. His torso—all silent muscle, the tattoo wrapping around his shoulder and side in the same path that you wandering hands travel, his abdomen all limber muscle—ripples as his hips press upwards into yours, press the full mound of his achy cunt, surrounded in nearly trimmed, tantalizingly coarse n’ a dark teal hair, up against the throb of your own chubbing cock.

“Mm,” you moan, low in your throat, mouthing against the width of Xiao’s tender throat as you grind together, cock against cock, balls against cunt. “Look’it you, sweet thing, already so wet n’ worked up.

“Is this why you were so quick to respond to my call?” You push him back at your words, gently shushing his whine and sufficiently replacing it with a drawn out lil’ moan when you dip your fingers in, one, two, three.

You grin like the cat who got the cream.“Oh?” you ask, drawl it out low. “All loosened up—” just like he always is on his favorite dildo. “Were you thinkin’ of me, playing with yourself like that?”

It's testament to the trust he has in you when he only nods, up, down, up, down, vehemently against the pillow his head is resting on. Messy teal-black hair splays out around him.

But then he tips his head to the side, eyeing something, and that something just so happens to not be his favorite dildo.

No.

No, it wasn't his favorite dildo—not the one you know almost as well as you know your own dick, a smooth jade curved gently up to stimulate his g-spot. It wasn't that one.

No, it wasn't, because his favorite dildo is rather small, end-be-all. It’s perfect for a soft n’ easy orgasm, no pain of a stretch yet leaves him open for your cock in all those days before where you replaced one cock with another, with your real one.

It wasn't that one.

It was that one—the one on the edge of the bed, not even with a towel under it to prevent that big ol’ wet splotch of what’s maybe Xiao’s thick pre-cum, what was maybe some of his cum, and a bit that's definitely primarily thick n’ slippery lube (Xiao, after all, has never been one to produce much slick.

Slick, no slick—in the end, it doesn't matter: not when his cunt is puffy either wet or dry, and lube is a resource the both of you are not short on).

The cock is monstrous, and you dip a fourth finger into his lube-wet cunt to test the barely there stretch. It's an easy slide, and Xiao bows up into you with a reedy whine, and you've got him right where you want him: exposed, sure, but safe, pleasure-drunk, aroused without cumming just yet on the toy.

“Didn’t cum, little bird?” you ask, leaning close n’ murmuring into his ear while you stretch across the bed for the toy. Your fingers—already so much larger than his—do not meet around the girth of it, and your cock throbs something mean, heat low in your gut. “Oh, Xiao.”

“Don’t—” he grumbles, face aflame. You shush him again, kissing him soundly with the big cock snug in your palm. Teasing, you press the wet mess he’s made of it between the two of you, slipping out your four fingers to nudge the head of it to the sloppy opening of his cunt.

“‘m not tryin’ta be mean to you.” You don’t press the dildo in, yet, letting him weakly clench around the tip. “I want you to talk to me, yeah? Be a good boy n’ talk to me, and I’ll fill you up all nice with this cock,” you murmur, and, for show, you bump it that millimeter in, just enough for his hole to spasm around where it barely intrudes.

But he’s shaking his head at you, sayin’, “Didn’t cum,” and then you’re making like you're about to press that cock in deep, right where he's already open for it, and he says, loud, “No!”

You stop immediately.

The cock is forgotten between your legs as you drop it to wrap around his torso. “Xiao—” you start, an apology ready, a question of Do you want to stop? about to leave your lips when he interrupts you, goes and says something stupid like, “I want you.”

Your heart does something equally stupid, tripping over itself and leaving a dopey lil' grin to stretch across your face. But, “Xiao,” you murmur, bumping your nose against the flat button of his. “I’m not as big as the toy, I don't think it'll feel as good,” because when Xiao's in the mood for a large stretch, your cock typically isn't enough; he likes it for the foreplay, likes cumming all over it, likes being left open and loose for you to slide your bigger dildo in the place you left him bereft. This cock, however, is downright monstrous, one you've never seen before, yet here Xiao is, begging for your cock.

“Don’t care,” he grumbles, pushing you back and reaching down to take hold of your throbbing cock. You hiss through your teeth at the friction after so long, his hand soaked in the leftover lube. He coats you liberally, quickly, tugging at your foreskin almost playfully. “I want only you.”

“Okay, okay!” You huff at him, bat away his small hand to take it in your own. “Let me make you cum then, yeah? Since the toy left you all achy.” You pout, playful, laughing at the distaste that flitters across his face. “Kidding!”

He grumbles, and his fingers thread into yours on his navel. “Less kidding and more—mm!”

Silenced by your cock, Xiao’s jaw drops open as his head falls back to bump into the pillow. “Oh,” he moans, whimpering in pitch.

You only grin, bury yourself up his cunt to the hilt. He’s loose and spasming around you; you weren't lying, about that cock. But your cock is real in a way the dildo isn't. “Feel good, Xiao?” you ask anyway, grinding in and bumping against the overused bump of his g-spot. Swollen heat, pulsing heat, surrounds you, drips down to your balls as you coo at him. “Isn't it nice, givin’ yourself up for me? Lettin’ someone else ruin you on cock?”

He nods, delirious, his forehead shimmering sweat that you just have to kiss away. You kiss the diamond mark, make a path down the barely-there bridge of his nose, tongue at his parted lips.

Your hips thrust slowly but evenly, each the same and pressing in all his favorite spots. “Yeah? Mm,” you moan low and quiet, groaning into the air when you lean back to take proper hold of him. “That cock can't fill you up, is that it? Can't cum in you... Can't cream your pretty cunt... Can’t breed you...”

Hook, link, sinker. “No, no,” he cries, pulling you into him and arching his hips all desperate-like into you, into your cock. “I want—mm!”

“Easy, sweet thing. What do you want, hm? Want me to knock you up?”

“Please!”

A knot is beginning to wind itself in your belly. “Please what, sweetheart?” You tease at the muscles of his belly, his hand long put aside to clutch helplessly at the soft sheets. “Speak up.”

He whines. “Please breed me,” he murmurs, and fuck, because his voice is raspy and shredded and you feel the knot that's tight and looping in your gut about ready to unravel.

You drop your hand from his abs to his swollen cock—red and puffy, sticking out so prettily from the thatch of hair surrounding where you're in balls-deep at the end of each thrust—, working him in gentle but quick, friction-filled circles.

“Cum for me, Xiao. Cum for me, and I’ll cum in you, I promise,” you coo, sweet as sugar, kind as anything. “I’ll fill you up like that cock can’t, yeah? Just like you want. C’mon, baby, sweetheart.”

And then he's coming, and you're coming with him, filling him up as his cunt leaks and drips thick, opaque cum from around the base of your cock. His own cum coats you and dribbles down your balls, a sensation you know will be gross, later; but right now, it's perfect: perfect as the pretty boy on your cock, writhing until he's limp and breathing heavy against the bed.

“Good boy,” you whisper, kiss his fluttering eyelids. “Good boy.”

Weakly, his arms—thick with muscle but shaky, trembling in the aftermath of the lava running through his veins—circle around you. He nuzzles at your throat, nips at your skin.

You laugh. “Feelin’ well bred, baby?”

Xiao bites you.

“Okay, okay! Sorry.” Small laughs still wrack your frame, however, and Xiao sighs in kind before he melts into your meandering touches. He’s hot and warm beneath your hands; and he's wet, slick and soaked between his thighs.

You're still sunk in deep, keeping your cock and cum warm in turn. He doesn't make any move, no indication that he wants you out; so you stay, kiss at him as you fall into the bed with him.

The jostling movement makes him mewl, soft, before it too melts into another sigh. “Sleep.”

“Only if you sleep with me.”

Xiao raises a thick brow.

“Please?” You pinch at the skin of his navel in retaliation, and you roll over, pull him against you until he settles on your torso. “C’mon, Xiao. You need sleep, too.”

“No, I don't.”

You sigh. “Yes, you do. You're gonna lay here—” you reach around to pinch his ass as well, gentle but reprimanding, “—and warm my cock while we both rest.”

He glares at you; then, “Fine.”

“Thank you, sweetheart.” You kiss the crown of that real head, pull the blankets up over you and pay no mind to the mess of cum and slick between you.

You’re warm, he’s warm, your cock is warm—it’s easy to fall asleep, enveloped in heat and heart like this. I love you, Xiao.

It could be a in dream that Xiao says to you, “I love you, too.”

so what if it's my kink to find a pretty guy splayed out with a huge dildo in him. it's not a crime. (in other news, i jacked off to size kink fucking machines the other night, and i don't think i can get that type of fucked out, drippy n' puffed up cunt out of my mind . . . haha. um. so here's xiao, except he fucked himself with his own hand. put that strength to good use, y'know?)

26 MAR. 2024, @rosedom, rosey .

#ㅤ✦【 ASKS 】#【 pup 】#can't believe ur pup anon and i didn't make xiao my puppy . . .#sub character #sub xiao #xiao smut #xiao x reader #sub genshin #genshin smut #genshin x reader #ftm nsft #u know how it rolls !

374 notes · View notes

prongslvl · 9 months

Text

HIGH (ON LOVE) - james potter

PAIRING james potter x fem!reader

SUMMARY you get your wisdom tooth out and fall in love with your husband, james, all over again. oh, and sirius is there too.

a/n: a special request from the lovely @loving-and-dreaming ! apologies for taking a while to finally finish this but i hope you still enjoy reading it. 🫶🏻

James sat on the uncomfortable hospital waiting room couch, his leg bouncing with nervous energy as he anxiously waited for you to return from your tooth extraction. It was a relatively minor procedure, but he couldn't shake off the worry that clung to him like a shadow. The concept of tooth extraction was foreign to him, but he knew it was for your well-being. The lack of knowledge about the process made him feel somewhat helpless, but he trusted the medical professionals to take care of you.

Restlessly, he fiddled with the ring on his finger, a symbol of your love and commitment to each other. It was a simple silver band, but it meant the world to him. Leaning against the wall, he kept glancing at the entrance, hoping to see you walk through any moment.

Finally, the door swung open, and James eagerly stood up, expecting to see you. However, it was Sirius who entered, munching on a candy bar, looking far too relaxed.

"Missed me already?" the black-haired boy teased. "Don't be so jumpy, mate. She's gonna be fine.

"I know she will," James replied with a frown, trying to keep his worry in check. "Just been a while since I've last heard from the nurse."

Sirius plopped down on a chair beside the bed, tossing the candy wrapper into a nearby trash bin. "Calm down, Prongs. People will see you and think you're waiting for your wife to finish giving birth.

"Ha, very funny," James retorted half-heartedly, sinking back onto the couch.

"It's just teeth, my friend. Your lovely wife has survived way worse than this," Sirius remarked, trying to lighten the mood.

Though it was supposed to be another joke, James couldn't help but agree. You were resilient, always bouncing back from every fall and mishap during Quidditch. He admired your determination and strength, but he couldn't stop the gnawing worry that nagged at him now.

Too deep in his thoughts of you, James didn't notice Sirius shaking him. "Prongs, she's here— help her out."

Startled, James turned towards the entrance, and there you were, in a wheelchair with your eyes closed. The nurse carefully wheeled you in, her demeanor reassuring.

As soon as you were close enough, James rushed to your side. The nurse held your arm while James gently took your other hand, helping you onto the empty bed.

You looked dazed and groggy, and there was something in your mouth that prevented you from speaking clearly. James felt his heart clench at the sight, desperate to make you feel better.

As if the nurse read his mind, she explained, "The cotton balls inside help with the bleeding and keep her mouth open for the healing process. She still has some of the medication from the operation.

James nodded, grateful for the explanation but unable to focus on anything else but you. You started to mumble words he couldn't quite understand, likely a side effect of the medication.

He held your hand tightly, trying to calm your agitation. "Hey there, love. It's me, James. How are you feeling?"

Your eyes struggled to focus, and then you managed to mumble, "So handsome..."

A soft smile spread across James' face. "Am I?"

You nodded slowly, and it made his heart soar. "You're exactly my type, you know. Handsome, glasses, hair, everything..." You tried to reach for his face, and he gladly leaned in to meet your touch.

"Thank you," he said, touched by your words, and feeling a bit bashful at the compliment.

But then your eyes shifted away from his face, and your expression changed to one of distress. You started to cry, and James' heart sank, worried that you were in pain.

"Why are you— why are you crying? Does anything hurt?" he asked, his voice filled with concern as he gently caressed your swollen jaw.

You shook your head, still sobbing, and managed to say, "The ring on your hand... It's from your partner."

He chuckled, wiping the tears from your cheeks gently. "It's alright, love. You're just a bit groggy from the medication. Don't worry about a thing."

You sniffled and looked at him with teary eyes, still not fully comprehending the situation. "But that means you're married."

James couldn't help but smile at your innocent concern. "Yes, I am. To you," he said, holding up his hand to show you the matching wedding band on your own finger. "We're married to each other."

Your gaze shifted between his hand and yours, and a flicker of recognition finally crossed your face. "Oh!" you exclaimed softly, as if a light had suddenly switched on in your mind. "You're my husband!"

"That's right," he said, relief washing over him as he saw you starting to understand.

A grin spread across your face, and you giggled, sounding slightly loopy from the medication. "I have a husband, and he's handsome!"

"You certainly do," James replied, a playful glint in his eyes. "And you're my beautiful wife."

You giggled again, and then your expression turned thoughtful. "Do you love me?"

The question caught him off guard, but he didn't hesitate to answer. "More than anything in the world. I love you with all my heart."

"Forever and ever?" you asked, a hint of vulnerability in your voice.

"Forever and ever," he repeated, leaning in to press a soft kiss on your forehead. "I promise."

Sirius, who had been watching the interaction with amusement, chimed in, "See, you two are perfect for each other!"

You beamed at him, seeming to have momentarily forgotten about the tooth extraction. "He's my type," you declared, pointing at James.

"He sure is," Sirius agreed, giving James a playful wink.

As the effects of the medication started to wear off, you snuggled closer to James, content and reassured by his presence. He held you gently, cherishing the moment and feeling grateful for your evident love for him despite under the influence.

"I was your type?"

"Merlin's beard, James." You groaned, turning away from the sly grin of your husband, focusing on your cooking. "Talk again, and I'll burn your bacon."

You felt his hands snake around your waist, underneath the apron, and his light kisses on your neck. "You would never do that to your husband, won't you?"

Before you could retort, he spun you off your feet, surprising you with his playfulness. You gasped, "James! Put me down!"

Though your face held obvious annoyance, the knots inside your stomach didn't stop as he tightened his grip on you, burying his face in your hair.

"Why did I marry you again?" You asked playfully when he finally placed you back down.

He tucked some of your stray hairs behind your ears with a smile on his face. "Because I'm your ideal type. Handsome, glasses, hair, everything."

You rolled your eyes but couldn't hide the smile that tugged at your lips. "Well, I suppose I can't argue with that. Now, let me finish cooking, or we'll have to order takeaway."

As you returned to the stove, James wrapped his arms around you from behind, resting his chin on your shoulder. "Whatever you say, my love."

#marauders #marauders fanfiction #marauders imagine #marauders era #sirius black #aaron taylor johnson #james potter fluff #james potter fanfiction #james potter x reader #james potter #james potter imagine #james fleamont potter

2K notes · View notes

slasherscream · 3 months

Note

my girl can wear whatever she wants tiers please for crazy ass boys gang!!!

CRAZY ASS BOYS GANG + MY GIRL CAN WEAR WHATEVER SHE WANTS TIERS

❥ my girl can wear whatever she want cause I can fight ❥

Billy Loomis - When you look particularly good his arm might as well be glued to your waist. He's both possessive and protective. He hates the way everyone's eyes devour you, but can't help how prideful it makes him either. Yeah, you want her. Of course you want her. Everyone does. But only I have her. God help the idiot that's stupid enough to open their mouth and not just look.

Jordan Li - They love watching you put your outfits together. They make suggestions from your bed, glancing up at you every few minutes. They can't help it. Their eyes are drawn to you permanently. No matter how crowded the room they can find you in a second. Whenever there's a party Jordan loves watching everyone try to sneak quick glances at you. They jump like rabbits when they wind up meeting Jordan's eyes and watch that smile that Jordan only wears around you fall back into the usual scowl. No one wants to be caught staring at Jordan's girl.

Arvin Russell - It's not possible for you to feel fear in public when you're with Arvin. You could be wearing straight lingerie in the most dangerous city in the world at 2 am and be safe. He's not just ready to protect you but hungry for it. Every time he proves he'll fight till his knuckles are bloody and bruised over you he watches you walk a little more confidently. Shine a little brighter. Knowing that he's there to protect you has only made you more yourself every day. And Arvin? He's obsessed with the transformation that the safety net of his fierce protection has ignited within you.

Jason Dean/JD - You wish he'd only fight people over what you're wearing. Unfortunately, this is not the case. JD pulls out a gun. Not every time, granted. Just a large majority of the time. In his defense, how is he supposed to act when someone has the audacity to cat call you? Do you expect him to just watch and not care as you experience that brief shiver of fear that runs up your spine when a man whistles at you before following it up with even more salacious words? If you feel fear, he'll make them feel fear. Simple.

Sparrow!Ben Hargreeves - If someone is stupid enough to not recognize him before they say anything to you about what you're wearing they will quickly recognize the tentacle wrapped around their throat. "Apologize." He hisses through gritted teeth, increasing the pressure, knowing just how much strength he can use before it would break their neck. How he ever expects anyone to apologize to you with a giant tentacle wrapped around their wind pipe you don't know. This is the second time this month. You're running out of night clubs you're not banned from.

David Mccall - You walk out of the house with the confidence that only someone who's done 12 tours over seas should have. But no, you just have a boyfriend who is incredibly scary. You've watched him almost break a man's hand for brushing it against yours at a crowded bar while he reached for his drink. You don't even think before you throw on an outfit anymore.

❥ my girl can wear whatever she want because she a hoe and I knew that before we started dating ❥

Josh Washington - Could he fuck someone up if needed? Yes, but he feels no need to. As long as you're not in danger or being disrespected Josh loves the way you express yourself through your look. You're hot and beautiful, of course you wear stuff that's short or tight, or both. If he looked like you he'd do the same thing. People don't usually say anything to you anyways, since he's always pressed to you like a second skin. He's not a jealous guy, but he is a chronic clinger.

Stu Macher - Is probably the person wolf whistling you in the first place. Points at you from across the room when you're talking to other people and says, "That's my girl right there. She's smoking, right?" He will always be smug he pulled you and NEVER shut up about it. The more wild you dress the more smug he gets. People can look all they want. But you only want him. What's there not to brag about?

Kevin Khatchadourian - Kevin above anyone else would thoroughly understand your psyche before dating you. He's involved with you because, somehow, you intrigued him against all odds. He already expected and predicted with near perfect accuracy every step of the relationship. Skimpy outfits are not throwing him. Can he fight? Yes. But, frankly, if someone pisses him off by hitting on you swinging on them is not gonna satisfy him. He's more of a "put their fingerprints at a crime scene so their life is ruined" type of get back. If he decides not to kill them.

Sebastian Valmont - Sebastian is the one buying you more hoe clothes. He loves your style and is not insecure. If either of you wanted someone else, you could go get them. But you two were practically made for each other. He wants to show you off. Is never going to be the type to try and dull your shine. He wants to walk into a room with you and have jaws drop from the deadly combination of the way you look together. He thrives off of seeing how much people want you. Knowing how futile it is. How hopeless. He pulls you tight into his side and grins like the devil himself (also, and this knowledge is of utmost importance, he cannot fight for shit.)

❥ my girl can wear whatever she want cus I’m scared of her ❥

Nathan Prescott - Is possessive, jealous and insecure enough to absolutely want you to change what you're wearing. With anyone else he'd even be bold enough to tell them to change. You are not anyone else, though. You are you. Considering every other behavior you tolerate from Nathan on a monthly, weekly, daily, and hourly basis you would snap on him like a twig if he tried to bring one more red flag on board. He knows this. You know this. When you slide on your low rise jeans and the tiniest crop top known to man, you make eye contact with one another in the mirror. He looks away first. You go back to peacefully fixing up your hair. Upside, no one is crazy enough to actually hit on you when you're at parties held on campus together. Which means Nathan won't have the cops called on him. Hooray!

#crazy ass boys gang #billy loomis x reader #jordan li x reader #stu macher x reader #josh washington x reader #arvin russell x reader #jd x reader #kevin khatchadourian x reader #sebastian valmont x reader #david mccall x reader #ben hargreeves x reader #nathan prescott x reader #tiers are so fun you should all send more #kevin jordan and ben kinda showing they crazy in this one adjkl

586 notes · View notes