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wonryllis · 3 months

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watermelon sugar | sim jaeyun.

﹙ 🎬 ﹚ ぃ ────𝗶𝗳 𝘄𝗮𝘁𝗲𝗿𝗺𝗲𝗹𝗼𝗻 𝘀𝘂𝗴𝗮𝗿 𝗶𝘀 𝘁𝗼𝗼 𝘀𝘄𝗲𝗲𝘁?

preview. he’s the sweetest to you, one might confuse him for your boyfriend, but he’s not, he just your fuckboy of a roommate who treats you like a delicate candy, always looking out for you and never at you; or so you think.

or where, jake can't seem to get you off his mind no matter how hard he tries.

meet the cast. simp sim jaeyun(jake) with his obsession fem!reader

genre. and they were roommates trope, fuckboy soft for his girl trope, smut!!, lots of toothrooting fluff, tiny speck of angst but not proper angst, drunk confessing, only one who can control him/her trope, happy happy ending, crack/humor, domestic scenes(newly added) college fuckboy athelete roommate!jake with his candy!roommate girl. computer science & programming major!reader, exercise physiology major!jake, nonidol!au, soccer player!jake.

word count. so far 7k est around 15k MAJOR REVAMP!

warnings. sfw and nsfw to be added on full release

theme song. animals by maroon 5, into you by ariana grande

POSTED!!

“yunie, can you pass me the watermelon in the fridge? the one from yesterday,” you spare a quick glance towards the half naked boy wearing only a pair of sweatpants. his black hair all dishevelled looking even more messier due to the perm he got last week. walking out of his room, headset resting around his neck, before your eyes return to focus on the movie playing on the tv screen. “yeah sure,” he mumbles out softly, the rasp in his voice sounding probably like he stayed up all night again.

taking the half a piece of watermelon out and grabbing a spoon jake scoops out a small little portion. going up to your slouched figure on the couch and extending the bite of fruit towards your mouth,“here you go, candy,” his custom of feeding you, something he does so often, it's become a habit. after you’ve eaten it, he hands you the ball of sweetness and sits beside you to see what you’re watching.

not even a minute after and he’s fidgeting about. pulling up to sit cross-legged,“do you want to go buy a new sofa at ikea tomorrow? this one’s pretty small,” he turns to look at you, raising his brows subtly,“well first of all i didn’t plan to have a roommate and secon- i swear if it’s for your sex deeds i’m kicking you out!” it comes out in a yell, voice raising with every syllable before you throw a seed at him. which due to your bad aiming skills instead of landing on his face, falls and sticks to the skin of his chest.

keeping away the watermelon in a crackle of laughter, you pick up mei and settle her on your lap, pulling back your blanket which had slipped off,“this is a public space have some decency before you have such thoughts!”

“stop making me appear like a horndog!” he laughs along, whinning at your false accusations in giggles and a look of faux disbelief.

“well that is exactly what you are but i’ll stop if you make me some sweet soy-glazed potatoes,” you grin with your signature cutesy doe eyes and jake is a goner. he always is.

taglist. ( open ) @s00buwu @luvyev @pockyyasii @nctislifue @jaklvbub @kwiwin @nanabbg @jayhoonvroom @haelahoops @aaasia111 @lovingvoidgoatee @txtlyn @jakehooni @mnxnii @rikisly @notevenheretbh1 @yunjinsbbg @jyonvsn @yizhoutv @enhyven @capri-cuntz @heeseungsbabyy @aishigrey @wooziswife @citylightsdoll @yeonzzzn @istphanie @zzaneavatsu @cha0thicpisces @laurradoesloveu @bambammtori @wonsbaer

#( 🍉 ) 𝐰𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐦𝐞𝐥𝐨𝐧 𝐬𝐮𝐠𝐚𝐫!#enhypen imagines #enhypen oneshots #enhypen fluff #enhypen smut #enhypen reactions #enhypen headcanons #enhypen drabbles #enhypen scenarios #enhypen hard hours #enhypen hard thoughts #enhypen jake imagines #enhypen x reader #enhypen x you #enhypen heeseung imagines #enhypen jay imagines #enhypen sunghoon imagines

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hanasnx · 4 months

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re-hash

JJ MAYBANK's no stranger to being called "daddy." It's practically one of the only things you wanna call him in bed, and something about it just hits. Maybe it's his own raging daddy issues, or the fact it signifies an authority figure, someone to look to. JJ likes calling the shots, and who better to call shots than Daddy? Before you'd introduced that petname to him, using it as a taunt was pretty common. In the midst of a fight, he'd tease his opponent with a little beckoning: "Tha's right, come to Daddy." If a variation was in order, he wasn't a stranger to switching it out for "Papa."

He didn't take into account how far it could go though. Addressing him as your daddy was commonplace, but while he's working on his bike, he gets introduced to something different.

"Pass me that, will you, duchess?" he asks, brows furrowed at the metal in concentration. He holds out his hand for you, and you walk while you read a little paperback book. The spine is weathered.

You hum confirmation, and toe over, plucking his tool from its location. Its hefty weight causes it to drop into his palm more than you meant to, but your focus is still on reading. "Here you go, pa."

He registers your words, and slows to a halt. Unlike him, you're invested in your story, index fingernail toying with your lip unconsciously. The crease in his brow deepens, tilting his head. "Uh," Looking at you through an eye because of the sun glare, upper lip raising to the corner of his nose like a curtain. "What was that, sugar?"

"Hm?" you question, raising your brows in question as you respond to his gaze with your own. "What'd I say?" You're not entirely sure what had occurred, the fresh words from your page still echoing in your mind.

"Called me 'pa.'" he reminds you, his twinge of southern twang apparent in his phrase. Unable to hold your eye contact, he glances down at the tool he fidgets with in his lap, picking off some dirt.

"I did?" In disbelief, you frown, a hint of embarrassment coloring your cheeks. "I'm sorry, I wasn't thinking—"

He shakes his head. Minutely disappointed you didn't double down. "No, s'fine. S'fine." He pouts his lips, and twitches his nose when he sniffs, scratching it with the back of his hand. "No big deal, sweet pea, I don't mind it." He returns to his bike.

Later on, he doesn't let you get away with playing dumb. "What was it that you called me earlier?" His arms shake with effort, holding himself over your head as his hips rock into you, your legs folded up on either side of him. "Huh? Duchess?"

"JJ!" you chide, but it comes out in a sultry whine, your body bobbing with his movements as his dick lodges all up in your insides. "What are you talking about?" There you go playing dumb, and he won't have it. Callused hand slots itself in the crook of your knee, hooking your leg over his shoulder to stretch you out. You yelp when his head hits a new and deeper angle inside you.

"Nah, nah, don't be like that." he snickers breathlessly. "What'd you call me earlier? Know you wanna say it. Lemme hear it, bae, c'mon," He goads you, and you can tell his accent is more defined at a time like this. It's mouth-watering. Or his long cock rearranging your insides is.

His blonde curls fall into your face as he looks down, watching your cunt slurp him up while you cry out each full sheath. Moans are practically shoved out of you, like there's no room to keep them inside when he buries himself to the balls in your little cunt. Worsening his pace, slapping skin on skin because you're not obeying him.

"JJ, it hurts! It hurts!" you sob, clutching onto the fabric of his side slit shirt he still wears. He pushes your hand off of him, picking himself up to sit on his knees. He tucks the hem of his top between his teeth, displaying his contracting abs as he gets into position. Briefly, you're granted a reprieve, but that's only because he's switching things up on you, slotting his hands under your hip bones to raise you, biceps swelling from the action. Desperately, you catch your ragged breath, until he handles you back onto his dick. He doesn't reintroduce you to inch after inch, no, he bottoms out straight away, plunging his length into you while yanking you into it. You thought it was hell before, now you're near tears, mindlessly reaching out to him as if to wordlessly ask for a breather.

He keeps his hardened concentration where your bodies conjoin, a ring of cream forming around his base, and he scoffs through his nose. You thrash, but you're spasming around him. "Guess this pussy can take some abuse, huh?" he asks rhetorically, muffled by the shirt between his teeth. "So squirmy. She's flexible, I'll give her that. How's about it, baby, wanna tell me now?"

You fist bangs against his forearm, taut from his hold on you, fingers digging into your flesh as you fight him. "Pa! Pa, please! Ugh, you're so mean!"

He drops his shirt so he can speak clearer, "Yeah, but your Pa fucks you good, huh? Right? Pa fucks you nice, and good." Deliberately, he rolls his abdomen, and in turn, pistoning his cock into you in way that has your lashes fluttering. His movements, forcing himself to be slow and steady, causes him to shake from effort, every muscle flexed as he fucks you. Your leg still haphazardly thrown over his shoulder, and he feels your own tremble travel from your core to your toes. "Say it. Say it or I swear I'll tear you in two."

"You fuck me good, pa, you fuck me nice and good. Nobody does it like you, daddy, I swear."

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popfizzles · 1 year

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What started as a joke with @kittyacelia about making FNAF animatronics ACTUALLY kid-friendly, ended up snowballing into an exercise in character design and world-building.

We call them Nanny Animatronics (since "Toy" and "Plush" have already been taken). They're far softer with pastel palettes, rubber teeth with plush exteriors to avoid accidentally hurting children! They're all housed under a pizzaplex type building that functions Entirely as a daycare.

I'll add extra notes about them individually under a readmore!

Nanny Freddy is the one kids go to for advice and generic help. He's super comforting, makes his rounds across the daycare saying hello to everyone. He gives GREAT bearhugs and specializes in calming down tantrums or panic attacks.

Nanny Chica loves playing house with children! She teaches general safety, like how to properly interact with stoves or electrical outlets. She's also equipped with a database of every kid's food allergies, and makes sure nobody eats anything they're not supposed to! Her cupcake (unpictured) is named Sugar and is basically just a fully sentient stress ball toy that loves to be thrown and fidgeted with.

Nanny Bonnie is the music teacher, and loves to help kids stay in touch with their louder and excitable sides. He loves to listen to kids talk about whatever they may be interested in, and has a learning database equipped with trivia to hold conversations with kids about any topic. He's the one children infodump to!

Nanny Foxy is the smallest of the bunch, and he loves to run around with the kids! He will play pretend with children, and is even equipped with the ability to detect injury and proper First Aid knowledge to help if a kid trips and hurts themselves while playing.

Nanny Monty is the art teacher, and teaches kids to use their hands for good (like creating art!) instead of bad (hitting, pulling, or smacking). He's very good at breaking up fights and helping kids deal with anger in a reasonable way.

Nanny Roxy loves to play dress-up with kids, but her main objective is to be there for kids, and recognize self-esteem issues. She's ready to pep-talk children at a moment's notice. Everyone is a winner in Roxanne's eyes, after all!

The Mediocre Melody animatronics are all localized on a stage in the daycare, and take turns putting on different types of shows for the kids. Nanny Mr. Hippo loves telling stories for kids, even stepping in to tell naptime stories for the younger kids. Whereas Nanny Orville does small magic shows, along with his assistants Bonbon and Bonnet! The other Mediocre Melodies (Happy Frog, Nedbear, and Pigpatch) are present, but undesigned. When they aren't doing their shows, they act as an extra set of hands for the others.

Nanny Springtrap (modeled ONLY in design after a horror show attraction) is activated during October for Halloween events, and teaches kids that there's no reason to be afraid of monsters. He also advocates for safety around strangers, and that it's okay to always tell an adult if you see something scary. He (along with a currently undesigned Nanny Dreadbear) come every Halloween to give goodie bags to the kids.

#FNAF #Five Night's at Freddy's #FNAF Freddy #FNAF Bonnie #FNAF Chica #FNAF Foxy #FNAF Monty #FNAF Roxy #FNAF Mr. Hippo #FNAF Orville Elephant #FNAF Bonbon #FNAF Bonnet #FNAF Springtrap #FNAF Nanny AU #fizzles draws #kittyacelia

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honestsycrets · 7 months

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omg sex worker miguel o’hara? 🤧🫡

grande | sex worker!miguel o'hara x assistant!reader

❛ pairing | sex worker!miguel o'hara x assistant!reader.

❛ type | extended drabble; 2kish words; explicit

❛ summary | you probably shouldn't tell a man that he's small. even if you've known him a very long time-- and especially if you see him fuck every day.

❛ tags | sex worker au, improper use of belts, male receiving oral, slight disagreements, workplace argument, Spanish is not translated

❛ sy’s notes | ...i now have an escort!miggy x rich girl!reader in my drafts to be finished at some other time because it became a bit depressing and plotty. needed something light to get back into writing for a bit.

He doesn’t play fair. Most women understand that about him. They know Miguel to be the man who bends the delicate boundaries of rules for a good fuck— be it a place, be it a position. Miguel would do what he had to for a better clip.

“Miggy?” You said, hands behind your hips. He should have known then that you were up to some shit. You hover somewhere in his vision with a sugar-sweet smile. You’ve worked with him alongside him since he chose this profession. Most days, he watched you sit by your favorite window that cast a warm midday sun, tacking away with fingers that flew across the keys. Some days, you’re watching him-- mounted on another woman. He cocked his thick brow at you.

“What?”

“I… it’s just… fuck. Elena had something come up.”

“Like I said she would."

Miguel set his fist to his cheek, swirling his protein shake in the other hand. This woman was your idea, not his. There’s a reason your voice choked on the words. You were anxious about your news the way your hands rounded to the front of your body, clammy hands plastered onto your tablet.

“I just thought—“

“I know what you thought. You thought my followers would like her.” He took a swig of his drink. “Not if she’d like me.”

That was exactly the issue. You do too much worrying about what the viewer likes, not enough about what he would like. He was well aware from every ping from Elena and the contorted little face you made that she was scared of him. As to why, he was not certain. He's grumpy, not dangerous.

“She does like you— it’s just your dick,“ you fumbled with your tablet, nearly spilling it over on his lap. “I told her you weren’t that big. She’s just— dramatic.”

“Not that big?”

You’re not winning this fight. He threw a look at the tablet, finding your suggestion more egregious than your description of it. Too thick! She complained. He’d stretch her out. Or, so she feared. He sincerely doubted that. She took enough dick that if that were the case, she’d have an issue long before now.

He’s not that big in real life. All that big dick crap is just marketing. I see his dick all the time.

Then you fuck him!

His mouth flattened into an unmoveable line, clearly unappeased with your response. For a moment, he did not move. He did not fidget. Nor respond. He simply stared down at you with those sharp, unhumored eyes. What little security you had in convincing him flitted away. He abandoned his drink on the table and leaned in close. Close enough that his thick strands of dark hair tickle your skin. Enough that you can smell the perfumed oil that lingered on his tanned skin. He always smelled so good.

“Until you’ve fucked me onscreen,” he brushed past. “Don’t tell women who will what I’m like.”

Oh. You made a mistake.

You don’t like it when Miguel is angry.

Most days coming to work, Miguel has a hot coffee on the table for you as you edit his finest ball-busting work. When the days stretch a little too long, he tells you when enough is enough. And, if you were lucky, he hovered at the stove and made you something to eat. It gave you a perfect sight of his toned shoulders and the long column of his spine-- which he so graciously allowed you to drool over day by day. Today, there was no half-dressed hunk making your delicious meals in sight.

He’s still angry. You pulled up his socials, scrolling through the responses to the latest video. A teasing blooper of a clip with a woman with Miguel’s length halfway down her throat, coughing up his seed all over her chest as you mistakingly giggle behind the screen.

“Keep laughing and see what happens,” Miguel drifted to yours, eyes hazy and soft, chest rising violently with the sundering sensation of his orgasm. He watched for the span of only a few heartbeats, a decadent warning exchanged between the two of you immeasurable before the camera. He reached for a tissue.

“Perdóname, papi.”

Does anyone know if they’re fucking? A user asked. It’s as if Miguel’s co-star was but a fading character. Any chance of seeing him fuck her?? Whats her @?

She’s just his employee.

Need this.

Just an employee. The words pulled on a string of connection that could at any time be cut. Miguel had no interest in wielding the scissors to do so, rather, over the past few years the string only became stronger. He’ll get over it. You stared at the reflection of your poorly made cup of cafecito, undrunken because no one made it like Miguel made it. He’s there, hovering around the sink, but you feel all the more alone in the room. Producer, editor, friend-- your eyes fell back to the cup.

“Are you done?” Miguel hovered by your coffee cup. It was cool to the touch.

“Ah. Sí.”

You gazed up at him, regret seeping from your features. If you apologized yet again, he’d simply leave the room. There are no good words. No ones that would make sense, no words that would… be good enough to make him come back when he’s in this mood, unmoveable and distant. You’re so close to him-- but all alone.

He takes the cup away.

“What’s the meaning of this?”

Miguel dropped his phone on your office desk. It thumped over the tablespace, his expression morphing into something wrong. You turn his phone upright, knowing the contents before the information actually registers in your mind.

“It’s a picture of me,” you closed the top of your laptop and whirled around in the chair, knocking your knees against his. He’s closer than he’s been in days.

“Yes. But what else?” he rumbled.

You’re not stupid, remembering the launch of merch that Miguel sincerely doubted anyone would be seriously interested in. How many people wore a male sex worker’s merch? This was all your idea, of course. Your lip is bitten fat, stripped of skin. Your eyes wandered across the table to the cabinet with an array of different cameras. Miguel rapped his scarred knuckles over the table, blocking your desperation for an escape. He wanted a substantial answer.

“You told me to make sure it sold.”

“And that meant model with your ass out on my page.”

“You don’t like it?”

"Dios," that’s not the point. He breathed a forceful breath, navigating your rolling chair up against the bed in the room. Typically the bed was used for a late night at the office or one of Miguel’s performances with any number of women you cast him with. Or, as you preferred, when he masturbates by himself-- squeezing his hand along his length as your phantom hand poured more wet lubricant over his cock. The sheets are always stained and consequentially changed.

“I don’t like that they know what you look like,” Miguel supplied, his chest cresting into a fall. His gaze fell to your hands, settled in a clasp over your short skirt. Now he knew what you looked like. “Do you know how many requests I have to…”

“Fuck me.”

“Sí,” Miguel said, your name dying on his tongue. “To fuck you.”

“Then do it. You have a camera.”

What-- his gaze read. It’s in the way his brow pushed together, how his lips fell just so lightly apart. He would say something more, but your hands are on his dark slacks, tracking up toward his sturdy leather belt. In only an hour or so, Miguel was meant to record with Elena, who, you convinced. He should be saving his stamina for that, not this. Even so, his hands hovered atop your own, grunting slightly in response, unable to stop what you were doing.

“Don’t ask me to ruin you.”

“I think you already have,” you murmured, finding his soft cock. You stroked him through his pants, drawing along his length, getting him where you want him. With every scene you recorded, you knew what Miguel liked. You knew he liked scenes where he could take his time, as short and far between as they were. You want that too. You drew the belt loose and unbuttoned the little spry button. So close, you could almost taste him.

“Are you going to record it?” You gestured toward the desk, pulling his cock into the free air. He’s an impressive length, just as you recall, you think he has to be to be an adult actor. The real treat is Miguel’s thick girth, swirled with delicious veins. You had seen his dick at least a hundred times, delighted in watching him meet his orgasm time and time again, and touched yourself to the thought of being just like his many girls.

“No,” Miguel pulled his belt from the loops and tugged it around his wrist. He let the other hand find the back of your head, weaving through smooth locks of hair, guiding your lush lips to his cock. “This is all for me.”

When he spoke like that, all you wanted was to make him happy. Your moist mouth separated, warm breath tickling the length that he shoved into your wet mouth. Maybe Elena had a point, you think, suckling around his length once, drawing to his fat tip. He hums in response, bucking back deep into your mouth. Miguel didn't want to wait, causing you to gag over his length, a terrible coughing resonating about his dick. Now that he had you here, he would show you how wrong you were.

“I thought I wasn’t that big,” Miguel’s hand left your head, stretching his belt across the back of your neck. Bucking forward, you gagged around his length, scratching his clothed hip for some mercy. If he wasn’t so big-- you could take it, couldn’t you? “Just like that. Hm? Cómo?”

He was gracious enough to allow you off his cock, gasping for air as you were, the depth of his plunging cock having pricked a few oversensitized tears on the sides of your eyes. You’re beautiful like that, overwrought and needy. Your heart rattled in the confines of your ribcage, wheezing as you jerked him pathetically. How certain you look now, tugging on him for a moment of relief.

“I’m sorry--”

“Ya sé.”

Your eyes fluttered shut, guiding him back into your mouth. Your cheeks hollowed out, drawing him in fast and hard. If not for the belt around the back of your neck, he might have stumbled, stuck between the warmth of your mouth and the pleasured groans tickling his length. You’re well-accustomed to what the girls do, stretching your palm around his dick.

“Harder,” he remarked, throwing a half-chewed-up curse aside. Unlike with the other girls, he’s weak before the pleasure, usually focused and refined, his jaw clenches. He’s gotten weak-- has it been that long since he’s had sex outside of the roll of the camera?

“Miggy,” you pulled back, your sloppy tongue swirling about his fat tip. He catches the moan in his chest, refusing to let it crest over, not yet. His eyes catch yours, muscular stomach flexing, he’s listening. “I want to taste you. Can I taste you?”

You’re such a good niña. Miguel forces you back to your rightful place on his cock, the band stretched so tight around his fists that he might break it. Your name becomes an unbearable, pleasurable slur on his tongue. He’s a trained man, knowing to cum when you say to come on each shoot. In many ways, he's your trained dog: cuming when he's told to.

His length pulsed in your mouth for one final thrust before he gave you what you wanted, strands of release spraying the back of your warm little mouth. You suckled him up, even as he tried to pull free. You cleaned his cock, sucking him nice and clean. Miguel brushed off your attempt to zip him away.

“Don’t bother,” Miguel breathed, pulling at the black-tie strapped to his throat. His white dress shirt was soaked, causing him to roll the sleeves up to his elbows. His voice dropped, well-fucked out but nearly ready for another round. “Your cunt is next.”

“But Elena is on her w--”

“Fuck her,” Miguel waved his hand, slouching into your chair. “Fix the camera. We have a video to shoot.”

If nothing else-- now you can tell her how big he really is.

#miguel x reader #miguel o'hara x you #miguel ohara x reader #miguel o'hara/reader #atsv imagines #atsv imagine #atsv fic #atsv x reader #atsv x you #atsv x y/n #miggy x reader #miguel o'hara imagine #miguel o'hara smut #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara x y/n #miguel ohara imagine #miguel ohara x you #miguel ohara smut

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444rockstargf · 2 months

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Hii Soo I'm not used to sending requests so I'm sorry if this is gonna be a little difficult or confusing. Have you heard that TikTok sound about how "she wanted five guys and I'm not talking about burgers" I was wondering if you could write something like that with 5 characters that Rory plays I don't mind who if you do decide to write it but I'm so sorry this message is so long

ohhh anon you're creative!

"you want more." | clyde, euronymous, jack, kappa, tyler

art deco. - lana del rey

✮⋆˙ [tags] @faesucksass @lustkillers @angelsanarchy @mayathepsychic1999 @josibunn @livingdead-materialgirl@romanroyapoligist @oliviah-25@si1nful-symph0ny @auggiethecreator @vanlisbon@livingdead-reilly @imoonkiss @lankysimp @nom-nommmm1 @xxbl00d-cl0txx @k1ll3rh0rr0r @wildathevrt @mommymilkers0526 @greenxgloss @wild-rose-35

female!reader x clyde + r!euro + jack + kappa + tyler

word count: 1.6k

contents: gangbang, unprotected p in v, anal, a little degradation, a little praise, blowjob, public sex, overstimulation, facial, creampies, a little aftercare

like a doll on display in the window of a toy store, you felt 5 pairs of predatory eyes lying on your almost bare figure as you sat on a scrawny little bed in a private room of your favourite nightclub. what a strange set of men. the thought ran through your mind as you stared up at them, studying the group.

there was a drunk-eyed stoner dressed in baggy clothes that held a muscular figure, a dark-haired metalhead wearing a cropped shirt that showed off a toned torso, a normal-looking man who appeared more off-putting the longer you looked at him, a greasy hippie who was already greedily palming himself, and a short-haired man with a glowing, throbbing rod concealed in his jeans.

you shyly bit your lip, fidgeting with your thumbs as you thought about what was in store for you. this wasn’t what you initially expected during a night out at the club, but you couldn't deny the adrenaline rushing through your veins. you were wearing a pair of silk panties and thigh-high black socks. the first man to take note of your nervous disposition was the stoner, who reached out a hand to gently stroke your cheek with his thumb.

clyde’s gentle touch made you shiver. “well aren’t you just the cutest thing?” he slipped his thumb between your lips, making you suck on it. “i promise not to hurt you tonight, ‘kay?” while his words were meant to bring you comfort, you could only tremble as the four others clearly had intentions of doing the opposite.

your eyes darted around, spotting the hippie whipping out his cannon. your pupils dilated as 12-inches of meat dangled in the corner of your eye. your clit throbbed at the thought of his pipe abusing your internal organs, beating them to a pulp. and you caught a glimpse of that dream in reality as he hopped on the bed, lifting up your ass and pressing his hips against you and letting you feel the sensation of his throbbing cock through the dampening fabric of your panties.

three belts clanged as they hit the ground in unison. the three others, euronymous, jack and tyler, took their positions on the bed with you, all five of them surrounding you. euronymous firmly grabs your jaw, making you look up at him. you couldn’t help but whimper quietly, from the sight of him and the feeling of kappa starting to toy with your pussy.

clyde rested back against the creaky bed’s headboard, pulling out his erection that was already smeared with precum. tyler sat next to him and as he pulled out his dick, your life momentarily flashed before your eyes. his shaft was unlike anyone else’s in the room. from the balls, it was a shimmery sapphire blue and it faded into a pretty purple at the tip (like this). it was so thick that you tried to wrap your hand around it, failing.

a harsh slap landed down on your ass, making yelp. jack’s hand left a sting as kappa cooed mockingly. “aw did that hurt, sugar?” euronymous tore your panties off of you, tossing the useless strip of fabric to the side as he massaged your hard clit with his thumb. you arched your back, stuffing your face into the mattress until a hand grabbed you by your hair.

“don’t hide that pretty mouth,” tyler grinned, “we’re gonna put you to good use, baby.” clyde flipped his hair out of his face, teasing your lips with the tip of his cock. you eagerly took it in, taking a second to adjust to his size. clyde let out a low groan, already bucking his hips slowly into your mouth.

tyler’s alien cock glowed with arousal as he watched your throat bulge from being filled up. you brought your hand to his dick, it being much colder than clyde’s. you lifted you mouth off of his, with lips being connected by strings of saliva as you slowly took tyler’s tentacle into your mouth. his hand found the back of your head, gently guiding it down. “yeah… nice and easy.”

then they all went at full force. euro, jack and kappa all slammed themselves into you simultaneously. tears flooded your eyes as you felt two cocks stretch out your pussy and one fill up your asshole. right from the jump, you were already gushing on all of them, the wetness of your cunt saturating their rods.

clyde and tyler took off the training wheels, now making you take both lengths into your little mouth at the same time. you struggled, but your sobs provided enough spit to help them go down easily. both men tossed their head back in unison from the feeling of their girths rubbing together.

though you couldn’t see, jack was taking care of your asshole while kappa and euro dealt with your painfully tight pussy. jack slowly massaged your sore hole as he slowly moved himself in and out of you. “does that hurt, sweetie?” his hand had a gentle grip of your waist and he gave it a little squeeze. both your holes clenched, and jack took this as a sign to be a little gentler with you.

“just give me a little kick if you can’t take it. but i know you can. such a good girl…” jack’s words turned your limbs into jelly. he cocked his head to the side slightly, dislodging a few locks from his bun as he pushed himself in your tight muscle, the vibrations of your groans running down tyler and clyde’s bodies.

kappa may have had the size, but euronymous was carrying the speed. he was twice, maybe three times as fast as everyone else one, your ass bouncing each time he slammed himself back into you. he muttered the dirtiest things of all, making a knot tie in your stomach. “goddamnit, you’re tight as a fuckin’ virgin. but we all know that’s not true, don’t we?”

you felt your cheeks burn with humiliation, much to his dismay. you ground your hips against them, cum dripping down the inside of your thighs. you had already cum a few times, but how would they know? your mouth was completely stuffed, preventing you from getting a single word out.

clyde reached into the pocket of his cargos which were inches away from him on the bed. he took out a cigarette, lighting it and taking a long drag, eyes locked on you as your spit could his cock in a thin layer.

while clyde was calm and collected, tyler was completely losing it. his hips uncontrollably bucked into your mouth as he gripped the bedsheets so tight that his knuckles went pale. his cock was illuminated like a glowstick, throbbing and oozing as it began to drip with a neon green substance.

as the taste hit your tongue, you immediately felt like gagging. but once you got over the burning sizzle of his cum, it began to taste faintly like green apple bubble gum. you swallowed every last drop that he gave you, desperately deepthroating his length to get more of his solution. then the gates of hell broke loose. he couldn’t hold back anymore and he dumped a bucket load of bioluminescent cum into your digestive track.

it erupted out of him like lava, hot and sizzling as you coughed up green bubbles. clyde burst into a fit of laughter as he shoved himself back into you. “what a party trick, dude.” clyde grabbed a fistful of your hair, aggressively fucking your throat, completely losing control of himself.

you gazed up at him through tear-filled eyes as your lips swelled around him. he’d always been a sucker for “blowjob eyes”, so with a few more lazy thrusts he shot hot strings of his seed onto your face, painting on you like you were a pretty picture.

as you received your facial, kappa exclaimed out a string of curses, as you feel your pussy swell as it filled with cum. euronymous’ balls slapped against your clit as he pounded into you, his fingernails digging into your ass as he lost himself in this moment of pure bliss. as hit orgasm hit like a ton of bricks, he yanked himself out of you, pumping himself quickly as shooting his load all over your arched back.

jack took this opportunity to give it his all, now fucking you rapidly in the ass. you cried into the mattress, loads of cum squirting out of your swollen pussy as he destroyed your insides. “o-oh yeah… good fucking girl…” he reached a hand down and started rubbing messy circles on your puffy clit, making your ass clench as he reached his climax.

he groaned deeply, his body shaking enough the snap the elastic band holding his hair up, sending his full strands all over his face. he used you to milk every last drop out of himself before pulling out and examining your sore hole.

you were a total mess, tears running down your face as they all released you at once. you panted heavily, the room spinning as your eyes fluttered shut. your pussy throbbed from the overstimulation, your entire feeling satisfied despite how worn out you were. in this moment, you felt cold leather draping over your bare body, euronymous’ jacket. clyde lit the small candle on the bedside table with his lighter to keep you warm, jack took one of the hair ties on his wrist and pulled your hair out of your face, putting it into a pretty ponytail, tyler pulled a pink lollipop out of his pocket, putting it in your gentle grip. and kappa’s contribution was a soft kiss on the cheek.

they left you in the cool, drafty room, leaving you with an aching body but a very fulfilled heart.

(little drawing of the position yall are in.)

author's note: writing gangbangs is so hard but I love a challenge!

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iwas-princess · 1 year

Note

You ABSOLUTELY should write about atsumu's boobs!!! 😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫

writing abt them again bc they’re j so great

miya atsumu • not at the dinner table

“if i’d known how much ‘ya’d love my tits, i woulda upped my weights a long time ago, sugar.”

your cheeks heated as you blushed at him, slightly flustered that he’d bring up such a topic while eating.

well, to be fair, you were also burning holes into them at the dinner table and practically drooling on your plate. it was only a matter of time before he would say anything.

you nudged a green bean with your fork, rolling it around your half empty plate. your eyes flicked down to the discarded vegetable, avoiding getting caught looking for too long in fear of his growing ego.

“i don’t know what you’re talking about, ‘tsumu.�� you lied, your voice wavering slightly in hesitation.

he scoffed, lightheartedly but taken aback by your lie. his own eyes dropped down, but instead of staring at his own plate, he mirrored your previous actions by admiring the cleavage of your tank top.

“not that i blame ‘ya for staring, i can hardly keep my own eyes away from yer tits too.” he mumbled, ignoring your previous attempt at fibbing.

you swallowed thickly at your boyfriend’s flirtatious comment, suddenly finding it hard to sit still as you began to rub your thighs together mindlessly.

he quieted, his gaze locked on your supple breasts spilling over the lowly cut fabric and giving him an eyeful. he silently thanked himself for choosing to lounge in nothing but sweatpants today or else the topic of breasts might have not been excusable at the table, if it wasn’t for your wondering eyes continuously checking out atsumu’s bare chest.

“can i, maybe, touch them after?” you mumbled, your voice shy and unsteady.

his ears perked up at your sheepish behavior, watching you in amusement as you fidgeted with your food nervously.

he always admired how shy you got when it came to sexual related questions, acting as if you being the filthiest slut he’s ever fucked wasn’t reality. as if you weren’t begging him last night to fill you up with his cum. or as if slobber wasn’t dripping down your chin and coating his heavy balls as you took all of him down you greedy throat yesterday morning.

he found it impossible for him to go one day without burying himself inside of you at least once, the sight of someone so sweet having the filthiest desires keeping his sex drive at all time high.

he never in a million years expected his precious babygirl to be so desperate over a pair of enlarged muscles, especially on his chest. atsumu was always big, but fuck, ever since he increased his weight training he’s been insatiable.

beforehand, you and atsumu would fuck each other five days a week, regulating a healthy sex life that kept the both of you more than satisfied with your busy work schedules. but, ever since you discovered this new kink of yours, it’s been impossible to keep your hands and mouth to yourself.

something about the way his hardened nipple felt in your mouth with your cheek pressed comfortably against his plump breast as you contently suckled, made your brain short circuit. the sensation was so serene yet incredibly sexy, and also deeply addictive— to both parties.

because even though your cocky boyfriend likes to let you believe that he only ever indulges in this kink of yours for your pleasure, he secretly enjoys if just as much as you do.

your mouth had always drove him mad, either it be wrapped around his cock or pressed against his lips, atsumu had always daydreamed about the wicked things that your filthy mouth could do for him. now, it’s even worse. watching your lashes flutter shut as you relaxed against the cushiony flesh, your lips wrapped tightly around his blush nipple and lazily suckling as you both winded down for the evening, was always the main thought that occupied his horny brain as he worked out every morning. the amount of times that he accidentally caused himself to pop an unwanted boner was beyond recording at the point.

“ya’d love that, wouldn’t ‘ya, princess?” he teased.

of course he was going to let you suckle on them later, it was his new favorite passtime. but, poking some fun at you beforehand can’t cause any harm.

your breathing caught in your throat, long lashes kissing the tops of your cheeks as you fluttered your eyes closed in longing.

atsumu’s teasing never failed to rile you up, no matter how vulgar he could be. in fact, you’ve found that the meaner, the better. he always repays you with soft aftercare anyway to heal any possible mental wounds that his words may have caused.

he chuckled at your reaction.

“are ‘ya going to ask correctly, princess?”

you gathered yourself rather quickly, knowing well enough that if you don’t give him a direct answer quickly, you would have to opt for another form of pleasure.

“pl-please, ‘tsumu. let me suck on your tits tonight, i’ll be a good girl.” you embarrassedly pleaded, your ears and neck turning red with humiliation.

the tint of your flushed skin caused a spark of corruption to jolt through atsumu’s cock, the electric feeling causing the organ to twitch in his sweatpants. he spread his legs farther under the glass table, attempting to make himself comfortable with a massive hard on.

“can’t really deny ‘ya when ask so pretty like that, now can i?”

#atsumu 🌷#atsumu #atsumu miya #miya atsumu #miya atsumu x reader #miya atsumu x reader smut #atsumu x reader #atsumu x reader smut #atsumu miya x reader #atsumu miya x reader smut #atsumu smut #atsumu miya smut #miya atsumu smut #haikyuu smut #haikyuu x reader smut #haikyuu x reader #atsumu miya x chubby reader #haikyuu x chubby reader

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thedeathlysallows · 6 months

Text

Santa Baby

Pairing: Loki x F!reader

Summary: Think of all the fun I've missed/ Think of all the fellas that I haven't kissed/ I really do believe in you/ Let's see if you believe in me.

Warnings: Smut. Degradation, dirty talk, loss of virginity (reader's), dom!Loki, oral sex (f!receiving), breeding kink, unprotected sex, ever so slight Jotun!Loki. Loki hasn't had his redemption arc yet

Okay, so, I really have no excuses for this one. It's borderline crackfic but I did my best lol

"Nicholas!"

"Odin!"

You stand shoulder to shoulder with your brother as you watch your father embrace the Allfather. For as long as you can remember, this has been your family's Christmas tradition. After your father finishes delivering gifts all across the nine realms on Christmas Eve, Christmas Day is spent on Asgard with the royal family. You aren't sure why it's a tradition- the elves say it's because Odin was the one to gift your father his powers, to create Santa Claus as the worlds know him- but you've learned over the years it's best not to argue about it.

(There was one year you wanted to spend Christmas at home in the North Pole like a normal family... and your mom fainted from the shock. The elves wouldn't talk to you for a month (which wasn't all that disappointing if you were to be honest). So you considered that lesson learned and never brought it up ever again.)

You watch as your mother greets Frigga next, the two of them looking like the epitome of the Mother archetype. Frigga with her regal air and your mother with her kind smile. You can't imagine ever having to step into their roles and you feel relieved you'll never have to. Your brother is set to be the next Santa and his wife will be Mrs. Claus. Odin's throne will go to Thor and his wife we'll be Queen of Asgard.

All you have to be is yourself.

Free to make your own rules.

To forge your own path.

To-

"Hello, little one." Loki smiles at you fondly and steps towards you. His hands are bound in front of him and the chains draped over his body rattle with each movement.

You tilt your head, observing him closely. "Loki. I knew you were on my dad's Naughty list for the whole New York thing, so I guess it makes sense you ended up on Odin's list too."

His smile morphs into a nasty sneer as he bares his teeth at you. A guard yanks on the chain around his neck, pulling him an appropriate distance from you.

"Must we do this today," Frigga whispers to her husband. "It's the last day of Yule. Let Loki have an hour of freedom."

"And what will that hour cost us," Odin counters.

Your father raises his hand. "If I may? The kids have been working on their magic and sugar plum over here has a real talent for it. I'm sure she could keep Loki in line for an hour."

Loki's eyes burn a hole into the side of your skull as he says, "Yes. The Santa baby can watch me."

"For an hour," you add, turning to your dad. You point a finger at the jolly old man. "And only an hour."

Odin strokes his beard thoughtfully, considering every possible outcome of letting Loki free for a bit. Eventually, he bangs his staff against the shimmering golden floor and Loki's chains fall away. Loki, for his part, makes an effort not to appear too eager. He rubs his wrists and rolls his neck before squaring his shoulders and turning to you.

"I'm at your mercy for the next hour, sugar plum."

And the way he says it so seductively has you reaching the realization that maybe this wasn't such a good idea after all.

You fidget uncomfortably, balling the ends of your long sleeves in your hands. Loki watches your twitchy movements silently. That's how he's always watched you. Ever since that first meeting when you were nothing more than a child coming to terms with her father being the Santa Claus. He's always watched you silently, thoughtfully, like he's waiting for you to decide who you'll be... and maybe, just maybe, if there will be a place for him beside you when you do decide who to be.

"I'm already regretting this," you say out loud to no one really.

No one is paying attention anymore anyway.

No one except Loki who places a hand at the small of your back and gestures in front of you with the other. "Come, we both know you're foaming at the mouth to get to the garden."

You can't help the eyeroll his words induce. "How eloquent."

"Thank you."

"I wasn't complimenting you."

Loki purses his lips, fighting back a grin. "No, you would never do that, would you?"

"Just shut up and follow me."

He pretends to zip his mouth shut and throw away the key, earning an aggravated groan from you.

If you were to be honest, you don't find Loki's presence all that objectionable. Sure, his ego is out of hand, he tried to take over your home planet, he can be a real pain in the ass, sassy, confrontational, a know it all... wait, what was your point again? Oh, right! Loki has many, many, many faults, but he's always been kind to you. Deep down you know his affection for you doesn't truly account for the monstrosities he's committed, but it does make him ten percent less Naughty in your eyes.

"When will you tell Jolly Old Saint Nicholas that I've been the one helping you with your magic, sugar plum."

Okay. Five percent less Naughty.

"Never," you say without looking at him. Instead you fix your eyes on the garden up ahead.

He clicks his tongue. "How absolutely Naughty of you. I approve."

Two percent.

"I don't need your approval. And stop calling me sugar plum!"

Loki stops walking abruptly, forcing you to turn around and meet him face to face. Or face to chest rather. He's taller than you by several inches and his broad figure almost blocks out the steadily rising sun. Hues of pink, orange, and purple burst from behind him in pastel streaks of color. The wind is soft and gentle as it wraps around the two of you, pressing your bodies ever closer. If you could paint you think you would paint him just as he is now, all soft edges and gentle eyes.

He shakes his head. "You don't need it, but you want it. You crave it, don't you, my darling?"

You think you prefer him calling you sugar plum. That feels far less intimate than hearing the words my darling come out of his mouth.

"I don't want anything from you," you say full of false bravado.

"Oh?" Loki pulls you in to his body and tilts your chin up with his thumb and forefinger. "Not even my cock? I think if I were to bend you over this balcony and fuck that tight little cunt of yours, you'd thank me by the end of it. Wouldn't you, sugar plum?"

You swallow the lump in your throat and will away the rising heat in the pit of your stomach. "I said stop calling me that, Loki."

"Then what would you prefer, hmm?" His lips are centimeters from yours, teasing you by brushing against you ever so lightly as he speaks. "You positively lit up when I called you my darling. How does my queen sound? Better yet, how about my whore?"

"Stop."

"Did you make it to the Nice list this year? No sneaking around and kissing boys behind my back?"

You grit your teeth, embarrassment washing over you with the realization that you actually enjoy having him talk to you like this. "Stop. I know what you're trying to do."

"And what would that be?"

"You want me to give up on you like everyone else. There's a past between us whether we like it or not and you want me to just... forget it. Let it go. Everyone else already believes you're a monster and you can't stand that there's one person in the world who still believes you can be good."

Silence stretches out between the two of you like a snake sunbathing on a rock. It's an almost tangible sensation. All you can hear is the air rushing through your lungs as Loki's chest rises and falls at an alarming rate.

"Is this the part where we hug and I thank you for always believing in me? Because... no, I don't think I'll do that," Loki finally says after a few painful seconds.

You huff in frustration, spinning on your heel to go back inside and forget the whole deal. You'll lock yourself in a guest room with some delicious Asgardian mead and that'll be that. This whole sexual tension thing with a man you shouldn't want in the first place will disappear along with the alcohol.

Before you can take a step forward and put you're new Christmas Day plan into motion, Loki grabs you by the arm and pulls you back. His chest presses into your back, a warm and solid wall of muscle.

"Where do you think you're running off to, sugar plum?" He bends down and whispers the words in your ear, his lips ghosting over your skin and leaving goosebumps all over your body.

"Your hour's up."

"I've still got forty five minutes."

"Yeah, well... I'm finished with this."

Loki slips an arm around your waist, grinding his hardened length into your ass. "You're through when I say you're through, and right now I want you down on your knees worshipping."

"But... we're outside..."

The protest dies on your lips as green sparks emanate from Loki's fingertips, circling the two of you before sinking back into his palm.

"There," he says simply. "Problem solved. Now if anyone were to walk by they would simply see us admiring the flowers. Now, on your knees."

You let him push you down on your knees, his long fingers curling in your hair. Through the tight leather of his trousers you can make out the imprint of his cock. You won't be able to take all of him in your mouth. There's just no way. You're willing to try though, you think to yourself as you look up into the familiar green-blue of his eyes.

He helps you undo his pants, picking up the slack when your nervous fingers tremble while untying the laces. He's eerily patient and allows you to take your time. Build your courage as it were. You want this. You know you do. You're just... nervous.

The realization strikes Loki suddenly. "You're a virgin?"

The accusation- however true- doesn't sit right in your chest. "Do you want me to do this or not?"

Loki's eyes shine bright with absolute glee. "You are!"

"Loki-"

The world swirls and warps around you, the oxygen leaving your lungs in a sudden woosh. You suddenly find yourself in your usual guest chambers. Still on your knees. Still out of breath.

"Much better!" Loki sighs happily before making himself comfortable on the large bed. "Actually, one more thing."

A fire roars to life in the hearth and the bright gold decorations littering the room turn a deep shade of emerald.

"Lest you forget who you're with," he explains simply.

"I couldn't if I tried." You look at Loki out of the corner of your eye as he lounges on the bed. His pants are undone, exposing the deep V of his pelvic muscles and a light dusting of hair. He looks at you so intently you feel like you might explode. "What?"

Loki motions for you to come closer. "I want you to come on my face, sugar plum."

You swear your body just gives out as soon as you hear the words. "W-what?"

He growls and sits straight up. "You are going to walk that pretty little arse over here, and then your are going to straddle my face, so I can lick your cunt until you come."

It takes everything in you to do exactly as he says. You aren't completely inexperienced and you aren't a complete idiot either. You know what the fire in your belly and the slickness between your thighs means. You want Loki, wanted him for years. Never in your wildest dreams did you think he actually wanted you too.

It's a Christmas miracle in your opinion.

When you make it to the edge of the bed Loki tuts at you, toying with the hem of your dress. "I meant to comment earlier, but this is the most horrid thing I've ever seen."

Your brow furrows. "Hey! Sprinkle made this for me!"

"Sprinkle." The way Loki says the elf's name almost sounds like a curse.

"You've met him before. Back a few- oof!"

Loki rips the dress to tatters in the blink of an eye. You want to hit him, curse him, something, but he moves too quickly. Instead you make a mental note to apologize to Sprinkle when you get home, and let Loki manipulate your body so that your kneeling over his face. His breath on your core sends a shiver through your body.

"Loki," you whine, gripping at his hair.

"Good girl," he moans out as you tug on the long, dark strands. "Let's see if you taste as sweet as you look."

His tongue laves at your folds, teasing you. It's strange but nice and exhilarating all at once. Your hips buck involuntarily when he finally slips his tongue inside you and he sighs happily against your skin.

"Fuck, yes," Loki groans.

You whimper pathetically.

"I need inside you. Now," he says against your soaked cunt. "I need you, darling."

All you can do is nod. Your bones feel like jelly, but you want more. You want him. You want him inside you. You want him to come inside you. You want it so badly you can almost imagine a future filled with children who have your hair and his eyes.

When he looks up at you there's a split second where you think he sees that future too.

Loki ends the moment quickly though, telling you to get on your back. He positions his cock at your entrance and you have a momentary lapse in confidence. You don't want him to stop, but he's bigger than you could've guessed, and-

"Relax." Loki presses his mouth to yours, nipping at your bottom lip. "You were made to take this cock."

You nod and angle your hips up so his tip slips inside you. Your unused muscles twitch against the intrusion, making Loki hiss out something in Old Norse. One of his hands wraps around your throat while the other pins your hips against the bed. Using this leverage he pushes his entire length inside you, swallowing your screams with his lips. Loki pumps in and out of you slowly, watching your face for signs of discomfort.

"M-more," you sigh. "Harder... more... please..."

His breath hitches. "Are you sure, my darling?"

"Yes!"

"Very well." Loki's hips snap, shoving himself even deeper inside you.

Your hands fly to grip his biceps. His skin is colder. Colder than you've ever felt it. And there's a slight blue tinge.

"Loki, fuck... oh my god..."

His hand not wrapped around your throat slaps across your cheek. "My king. Say it. Say I'm your king."

You manage a tiny nod. "You're... you're my king..."

Loki's grip tightens and his pace quickens. You can feel his thick cock sliding in and out of you, stretching you around him, forcing his way deep inside you.

"L-Loki..." You let out a short whine. "Come inside me. Please. I need it. Please, please..."

He chuckles darkly. "How pathetic. You're begging like a common whore. Is that what you are, darling? Are you my whore?"

"Y-yes."

"Yes what?"

"Yes, my king."

Loki, seemingly satisfied by your answer, lifts your leg over his shoulder and shoves his way deeper inside you. There's a painful burn as you adjust to the new angle and pace, but the look of ecstasy on Loki's face is enough to send you over the edge again. You come on his cock once more, but this time he comes with you, filling you until it leaks out.

You aren't sure when you closed your eyes, but when you open them Loki is looking at you with a strange expression.

"My hour is up," is all he says.

#loki x reader #loki smut #loki x you #loki x y/n #loki fanfiction #loki laufesyon x reader #loki layfeyson imagine

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kollector-of-stims · 27 days

Text

My current sugar ball collection!

#sugar ball fidget #sugar balls #stim toys #fidget toys #my collection #lots of blue ones tbere #i really like blue!

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gimmestimmys · 1 month

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IM OBSESSED WITH THIS SQUISHY!!! It feels so good. Kinda reminds me of crazy Aaron’s glass putty but it’s not putty so it won’t get stuck to anything. Also its container isn’t a pain to open lmao

can be bought on gimmestimmy.com

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waxingrunes · 5 months

Note

I understand if you’re too busy to answer this or don’t want to, but i was wondering if you wouldn’t mind telling us some of your non-explicit headcanons or just some traits you think wolfstar have in general? Your explicit ones are sososo hot but today I'm feeling low and need some comforting. Yiur blog is just a safe space for me but I totally understand if not! I love your work <3 all my love x

There are so many nondescript hc’s I have that this has the potential to turn into a formal essay with cited sources, so I’ll go for more of a generalised dump of info I have for each in a hope that it lifts some of your fog Anon. Maybe bullet pointed because it’ll be easier to read than my usual untidy form of communication. Hope you feel lighter soon.

Sirius

• will lick a yoghurt pot if there’s no clean spoons. There’s the option to go for fruit instead, but he wants the yoghurt and by god he will get his yoghurt

• is a fucking terrible driver, gives Remus and any passenger white knuckles due to speed issues and not using a lower gear when taking corners

• is however, in complete control when on a motorcycle; very hot, very controlled and will take his passenger’s safety very seriously

• professionally trained in ballroom and ballet, the latter which he is sometimes mocked in jest for, even by Remus, until he one time caught him stretching elegantly on the floor one morning with his upper body laid flat between long, toned, wide spread legs, ‘morning moony’, a healthy blush on his cheeks

• private crier, doesn’t cry easily

• goes quiet when angry as an initial defence but it doesn’t take long for him to start dropping breadcrumbs of sarcastic comments; can also be snobby and bratty, perhaps sometimes will get nasty and direct (bringing up things he shouldn’t to score points in the heat of the moment)

• suffers immeasurable guilt (helped by the point above) but is always masking a weighted feeling of guilt no matter what he’s doing, so much so it’s manifested into quite a serious anxiety problem in the wrong crowds

• he fidgets a lot, not in a chaotic way, just always has to have his fingers busy with something

• likes the smell of gasoline

• once had to talk himself down from throwing a child in a dustbin

• loves the colour red; blood red and cherry red to be precise but secretly loves dark blue even more because it’s what looks most handsome on Remus despite him not wearing it often

• sighs a lot

• pretended he couldn’t speak English to get away with jumping a queue

• hates the smell and taste of liquorice (unless heavily strawberry/cherry/raspberry flavoured)

• on one particular messy night out he got so impatient waiting at the bar, he reached over and grabbed a discarded bottle of alcohol the server had left open and swigged it

• digs his nails into his skin when anxious and is often reminded to relax the tension in his joints

• stargazes often

• once linked his pinky finger with Remus and asked him to pinky promise not to tell anyone what he was about to tell him, since which a tradition of trust was born where Remus will offer his pinky or the last two fingers for Sirius to hold or squeeze when he’s feeling unsure in public, or in any situation where verbal reassurance isn’t appropriate

• gets a weird thrill at the sound of cork popping from a bottle

Remus

• collects beer mats and keeps them in a drawer, thinks about making them into a display

• got tired of kids playing ball against the wall of his place (after repeat offences and him asking very nicely for them to stop) one day so went out, retrieved the ball and threw it so hard against of the cars it set the alarm off

• owner of said car came running out the house and Remus blamed it on the children. Never had the same issue again

• has a wildly sweet tooth and will always drop one or two packets of sugar into any warm beverage

• stares into space and gets involuntarily caught on someone’s face one too many times which makes them uncomfortable from the ‘Death Stare’ phenomenon when in reality, he’s lost in lala land

• can cook, is actually a proficient cook, but will not cook for anyone but Sirius, James or Lily

• will crack his knuckles, wrists and neck absentmindedly, all of which makes his company squirm because it’s often very loud and ‘pop-py’ but Sirius fucking loves it

• stays very calm during an argument but can shout louder than most and when he does, ears ring from the silence that follows

• prefers tea over coffee

• will eat liquorice any time he wants to piss Sirius off

• cries more than Sirius, but still a private crier

• always has to be the old boot in Monopoly

• loves words that are vowel heavy or double voweled because those are the ones where the scraps of Sirius’ lost French accent surface the most

• has a gentle touch, is aware of his size and nature of his lycanthropy, therefore always somewhat reserved

• loves socks, has a collection of ‘dad socks’

• has the messiest writing out of all the Marauders but loves handwritten things, owns three very different fountain pens for very different purposes

• is polite, but as he’s aged doesn’t tend to ‘fake smile’ a lot, feeling no need to fill uncomfortable silences for the sake of others

• has a chair he favours and often dozes off in it. Most of the time waking up to Sirius on top of him

#ask #wolfstar #might tag this properly #remus lupin #sirius black #remus #sirius

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fear-is-truth · 2 months

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Peter Maximoff headcanons (sfw)

A/N: a complication of random things i think about peter maximoff. he’s so cool i want to be his friend

total goofball.

child at heart.

gamer boy.

twinkie hoarder.

probably has adhd.

a menace on rollerblades.

has a huge sweet tooth. consumes an unholy amount of sugar daily.

obsessed with pop rocks because they fizzle in your mouth.

calls a near death experience “a vibe check from god”

the kind of guy who shakes the vending machine and gets his hand stuck.

loves fidget spinners and bouncy balls.

knows how to juggle.

great at mimicking cartoon characters or accents.

can’t sit on a swivel chair without spinning himself silly for the first 5 minutes.

accidentally breaks stuff by absentmindedly taking them apart and not knowing how to put them back together.

quotes vines and memes at every given opportunity.

has a playlist for every situation but each playlist name is weird and utterly ridiculous.

sleep talks.

collects keychains.

@acidbrainstorm @evanpetersmybf @alittlesil @kaiandersonsdevotedwife @baby-doll1989 @newwavesylviaplath @warrenpikasgirlfriend @violet1737 @slvt4jamesmarch @kaismanwich @maddaline @evpeters87 @lacucarachapisser @howtobesasha @lissasharp @feefymo @nickrhodeslittledarling @bluerthanvelvet444 @r8ttenapples @nahoyasboyfriend @kai-slut @imsoamazing26 @silence-in-the-silver-state @coentinim @doll3tt33

#peter maximoff #quicksilver #evan peters #peter maximoff x y/n #peter maximoff x you

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pinksugarscrub · 3 months

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The Pirate Princess

Pirate! Hobie x Princess! reader

Scenario: To @the-kr8tor and the anon who inspired me. I present; the sea, swords, and an overly complicated love triangle!

Prologue, ???

You fidget with the handle of the blue teacup in your hand. Gold embellished in the rim. It’s cold, unnaturally so, but it’s finally stopped raining. The sky is clear except for a few puffs that look like balls of cotton the royal gardener grows. It’s peaceful inside the walls you call home.

“If you hold the thing any tighter Princess, I’m afraid it will break.”

Instinctively you loosen your grip at the sound of his voice. So familiar you might as well hear in your head at all moments in the day. Your palm stings from how long you held it to the porcelain but you hide it well to avoid being scolded.

You smile as you bring the steaming cup of tea to your lips. Your second, or third since this morning. “Harry, you’re late.”

He chuckles, brown curls shielding the roll of his eyes but you know him well enough to know he’s done it. When he sits you kick at his leg with your heel. Not hard but enough to annoy him but you can hardly do anything to get on his bad side. Everyone finds the need to tell you that aside from Miguel, Harry has a severe soft spot for you.

He yelps, nearly falling off of the garden chair across from you. Dramatic of course, what kind of General would he be if a measly kick brought him to his knees. “That damn hurt (y/n)! I was only a few days off.”

You laugh as you lean back in your chair. Harry already moving to place your legs over his lap. It’s become routine everytime you see each other. Which is rare nowadays.

“Well, you never leave a lady waiting.” Placing your tea back on the table to pour one for your friend (the maids would disagree). The action is a bit difficult given your position and the exceptionally puffy dress you’re wearing but you make do. “Especially your future queen.”

Harry doesn’t protest. Watching you with a look that he wouldn’t be caught dead giving anyone else. His fingers softly caressing the skin of your ankle.

“Yes, well…” Taking the cup graciously once you extend it to him. “If her majesty was more inclined to acting properly she should be more understanding.”

He recognizes the flavor as soon as it hits his tongue. Rose, your favorite. You’re worried.

He doesn’t push. Opting for you to voice your concerns if you deem it necessary. “Pete was showing me some more of his contraptions.”

You gasp, nearly dropping the sugar in your spoon. “Peter is here?”

You’re ready to slide out of your chair and run into his study. He left weeks ago with his apprentice. Something about metal? Vibranium? You can’t remember.

Harry catches your legs before they can hit the ground. Laughing as he holds you still. “Yes yes but let me have a moment with you before we have to listen to his regular tangents.” You whine which is unbecoming of a princess but the action makes Harry's smile grow wider. “Oh come on, I know you prefer Peter over me-”

You look absolutely appalled as you try to swat at him. Harry catches your hands with ease and kisses your knuckles to turn your expression into a happier one. Your laughter fills the garden and for a moment, just a moment, you forget about the war. Forget about tonight and…forget about how you’re going to break Harry’s heart.

At least you got to see him one last time.

An hour earlier . . .

Your head is pounding, everything is so loud. Words leaving lips left and right. Squeaky and demanding.

Curling your fingers into the tulle of your skirt you stare blankly at the map at the center of the table. Black splotches of ink on shorelines and townfronts you’ve only seen in paintings. Crossed out with a single flick of a wrist.

You gasp softly as a hand lands on your shoulder. Firm yet kind, you recognize it instantly. “Miguel,” you exhale. The bouncing of your knee ceasing.

The man doesn’t answer. Just purses his lips. Your stomach drops as he clears his throat, loudly and unabashedly. All eyes shift and conversation comes to an abrupt halt. “This meeting is adjourned. It’s a quarter passed twelve. Return to your homes.”

The men go to protest. Of course they would. It's war. But a hand raises, an emerald ring on the pointer finger.

His voice is gruff, mostly from the smoking he used to indulge in with your father. The memory causes some tension to leave your shoulders. “Gentlemen, we have taken most of the day. I don't see what's wrong with ending early. We may even come to a better resolution by morning with the proper rest.”

These men are ancient so they take ages, centuries even, to shuffle out of the small room. Grumbling like children it’s almost comical.

You sigh. In relief or exhaustion, you don’t know. Your body aches from sitting so long on your father’s old desk chair. You don’t have to look back to know you’ve left an impression on the seat. But then again, with how thick your petticoat is you might be nonexistent to the velvet.

Miguel extends his hand out to you and you take it. Offering him a quick nod before walking over to the entrance of the study. The senior Osborn’s eyes piercing your own as he waits for you. His irises as bright as the ring on his finger.

“Lord Osborn,”you chuckle,“thank you. I must owe you a million debts of gratitude by now.”

He laughs and you smile wider. Its melodic in a way. “Please (y/n), I’ve known you since infancy. Norman is fine. Unless you want to move ahead and start calling me father.”

You laugh nervously. Cheeks heating up as you fumble with your gloves. Struggling to make a coherent response you miss the look your Captain gives the noble.

“Don’t worry dear, just teasing.” The wrinkles in his face growing more defined. “Speaking of which, Harry arrived earlier this morning. His platoon was thankfully, successful in removing those ghastly pirates threatening a nearby port town.”

“Oh,” you stutter. Feeling the heat in your cheeks subside. “Oh how wonderful! Please be sure to send him my way.”

“Of course. Enjoy the rest of the afternoon. We’ll reconvene tomorrow yes?”

A knot fills your stomach as you nod. A strained smile on your lips. You want to say ‘Unfortunately Norman, I won’t be here tomorrow because I’m stowing away on a ship!’ Alright maybe not stowing away. You paid a fee. “Yes, tommorow. Thank you again.”

Eventually the man fades in the long corrodior of portraits and paintings. The tension in your body leaving along with him. You tilt your head and without a hitch your tiara falls into your awaiting hands. The jewels glaring back at you. You can finally breathe.

Miguel calls your name out with a sigh. His grip firm on your shoulder again and that brings you back to the present. “You don’t have to do this.”

His eyes staring deeply into your own. Despite his words Miguel knows there’s no turning back for you. You’ve made your choice.

You pull your shoulders back, determined as you set the tiara back on your head. The gold weighting almost as heavily as your heart. “It's been almost two years since father passed away and my coronation is only months away. How can I see myself as a queen when I can’t even help my own people now?”

“I can do this.” You repeat the phrase to yourself in your mind before continuing. “I’ll leave and come back in less than a month.” Your heels clicking as you begin walking down to the garden. You can see the terrace has already been set up for you. The banners of your family crest fluttering in the backround.

“Just having you believe in me to allow me to do this is more than I could have asked for.”

Miguel chuckles, uncharacteristic to anyone except to you. “I sincerely doubt you would have taken no for an answer.”

“How encouraging,”you huff. Smiling as you playfully hit his side. “I couldn’t have asked for a better mentor.”

He smirks before going back to his usual stoic demeanor. It’s almost cold the way he stares down at you but you know him enough to see he’s hiding his pain.

A stone heart was necesary in the eyes of the advisors. A Captain of the royal guard could show no weakness.

“Your kingdom has no other option aside from annihilation if you leave it in the hands of these arrogant fools for too long. Find Gwendolyn, and quickly.”

You feel a cool piece of metal through the silk of your glove and it takes you a second to realize Miguel is the one who’s placed it there. The atmosphere thick as you twirl the ring inbetween your fingers.

Your father’s ring.

Newly polished it might as well shine like a pearl. The words engraved in the metal more legible.

It’s a parting gift you realize. As optimistic as you’ve been about your journey. You know there’s a chance you won’t be coming back. Miguel must see that too.

“The boat leaves at sunrise. You have everything you need to succeed. It’s up to you to live up to the potential I know you have.” He surprises you by kneeling. The suit of his armor clinking together as the sun shines through the stained glass windows. The color makes him look almost ethereal. You feel like it's his presence you should be basking. You who should be kneeling.

"I have served no one nobler. Good luck, (y/n). Daughter of Dmitri.”

#hobie brown #hobie brown x reader #spiderman atsv #across the spiderverse #atsv #spiderpunk #spider punk x reader #hobie brown x you #atsv hobie #hobie x reader

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