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octoberautumnbox · 2 months

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The Cute and Caring Noona from Apartment 424

CLC/Kep1er Choi Yujin & Male Reader

Categories/warnings: smut, older girl, undisclosed age gap (nothing creepy tho), soft dom Yujin, titsucking, nursing handjob, cowgirl, creampie, breeding, overstimulation a lil bit

Word count: 3.5k

a/n: discordant waltz chapter alr planned out dw i just wanted to switch things up a lil, this was a blast to write :D

“Hey, so good to see you! Come in!”

You take off your shoes and Yujin pulls you in for a hug. The aroma of fresh-baked chocolate chip cookies fills your nostrils and sends your stomach growling.

“Hi, Noona. It's great to see you again.” You back away from the hug, but Yujin keeps you within arm's length with her dainty hands on your shoulders. You admire her simple yet adorable outfit, which only compliments her bright personality.

“Take a seat, cookies are still cooling down but dinner is ready!”

She plops you down at the dining table and sets your plate and silverware. While she buzzes from cupboard to table and back, you draw your eyes from one tiny dish to the next. Kimchi, lettuce leaves, cheese cubes, the works. At the center of the table is a small grill, with a pan sitting on top and evidently expensive cuts of beef like what they go crazy for in variety shows sizzling enticingly.

You keep from drooling at the last second at the feast before you, and you manage to choke out, “Wow, are we expecting more people, Noona? This looks delicious.”

“No, just the two of us,” Yujin says cheerfully as she places your chopsticks at the right side of your plate. “Too much?”

“Way too much! You really pamper me whenever I come by. Thanks, Yujin-noona.”

She chuckles cutely while covering her mouth with a finger. “You visit too rarely for a neighbor. Come by more often and I can tone down the food, okay?”

She takes her seat next to you and squeezes your hand. Skillfully and quickly, she picks up a piece of beef from the pan, a leaf of lettuce, just the right amount of kimchi, a leaf of perilla, and finally a cube of cheese. She presents you with the expertly made wrap and brings it to your mouth, saying “Ahhh.”

~~~

She sets the plate of cookies on the coffee table in front of you as you offer her the other half of the blanket. She joins you on the couch and shuffles right up to you, placing her head on your shoulder and bringing your arm around her.

The movie starts playing and the necessary studio intro clips crescendo onto the screen. “This is one of my favorites. You'll love it too.” She snuggles more comfortably into your side and sighs a breath of relaxation. Squeeze her shoulder, tell her wordlessly that you're excited to love this movie as well.

~~~

You come to, and groggily you look around. It's of little help, as the TV shut itself off sometime ago and the lights are all out. You feel a shifting weight beside you and your face suddenly fills with a scratchy texture and the sweetest scent you've probably ever smelled in your life, no doubt a faceful of your neighbor’s hair.

“Yujin-noona, wake up. We fell asleep and the movie's over.”

You try to shake her awake gently, and it works. Yujin sits up slowly and tries checking the time on her phone. After the initial short-lived blindness, she sets it down and rubs her eyes.

“It's late. Sleep over. No buts.” Knowing you had no choice, you submit and help her help you walk and stumble yourselves up the stairs and to her bedroom.

She plugs a star-shaped night light into a low wall socket and the pair of you fall into the bed. You cuddle into her side this time and she graciously wraps you in her arms. The smell of her hair and her bedsheets fill your nostrils again with a calming fragrance.

However, in an act of dastardly betrayal, your brain for whatever reason thinks your sweet beloved neighbor Yujin-noona is… something more. As you take in more and more of her scent, and gaze up from her side to see the way her eyes are shut lighty and her lips are slightly parted as light snores slip through, your heart beats a different rhythm as if just now realizing and admiring the beauty that is Choi Yujin.

“This can’t possibly be,” you think to yourself, “she’s my neighbor and very close friend. I shouldn’t be thinking about her like this.” You continue to fight down your subconscious feelings from bubbling up into your conscious mind, but the fullness of your tummy and the comfiness of the way you’re in bed with her prove it a challenge.

“Something wrong? What are you thinking about?” You’re taken aback by Yujin’s sudden words. “Are you okay? Tell Yujin-noona what you need.” She rubs her eyes again and meets your gaze. In possibly the worst stroke of luck you could ever have had in this life, as she negotiates her hand back under the covers, she comes into light contact with you in the middle of you pitching a tent in your pants.

“... Oh.” is all Yujin could get out before you turn beet-red and stutter your apologies.

“Shit, Noona, I’m so sorry! I- I should go- I’m sorry.” Your mind fills with shame at how you’ve ruined such a nice and pure friendship with your lovely neighbor. You try to stumble out from under the blanket, pushing Yujin away, but once again she places her dainty hand on your shoulder.

“Stop that right now. Come here.” Her command is mild but assertive. She lifts up the blanket to welcome you back, patting the space beside her in her bed. You sheepishly rejoin her under the fluffy covers, but before you settle, she makes another set of commands.

“This is my house, so for me to be a good host, you will tell me anything and everything you need. That includes this,” she whispers breathily, palming the growing bulge in your pants, “Most. Of. All.”

You can do nothing but whimper at her unrelenting touch. It doesn’t help that she’s already fiddling with the waistband of your underwear and wrestling it out of her way. What’s worse, your position in bed with her makes it impossible for you to look anywhere but to meet her eyes, or maybe…

“Use your words, baby boy, tell Noona exactly what you need.” An evil grin forms across her mouth, painting her features with a sinister shade of lust.

“Noona… Could you please…” The words barely struggle out of your mouth, and even then you’re not saying anything of value. Yujin only chuckles more, covering her mouth with one finger, before prodding you incrementally yet ever closer to the edge.

“I can’t read minds, baby boy. You’re going to have to do better than that.”

“Noona, your… your top, please. Take it off.” Wide-eyed, you watch as she grabs the piece of clothing by the hem and starts pulling up. Her belly button comes into your view as she goes on tantalizingly slowly revealing more of her creamy skin to your hungry eyes.

The top then clears past her ribs, and she slows down ever so slightly, keeping you on the edge. You choose to relieve some of the pressure in your crotch yourself by stroking your dick to the unbelievably lewd sight, but Yujin has other plans.

“No, bad boy. Only Noona gets to play with that tonight.” In saying so, she lets go of her top, covering everything she showed you so far, to swat your hands away from masturbating. A deep sense of regret fills you, knowing that only you could be blamed for delaying your pleasure. However, Yujin seems satisfied that you learned your lesson and resumes her striptease.

She reaches a critical point in her teasing, bunching up all of the fabric so far right under her boobs. Her nipples poke through the thin fabric, and you fight the urge to just dive into her tits and ravage them to your heart’s desire. She relishes in the burning gaze you’re subjecting her to, as if getting off to being ogled by her neighbor and best friend. She grows a few shades redder in the face to match yours, but ultimately she pulls her top up past her breasts, freeing them and letting them bounce. With the top now only covering her neck and shoulders, she opts to tease you more:

“Like what you see?” she asks sultrily while winking at you. She cups each of her tits with her hands, presenting them to you, and tweaking her nipples to get them hard for you. Yujin takes her lower lip between her teeth, obviously growing more and more aroused at the thought of letting you take her right then and there.

You try to find some spit in your mouth to swallow, but it’s dry as a desert and you’re left breathless instead. You swear that you could just die right there and be happy with the life you’ve lived so far, and with how your noona is treating you, you just might actually pass.

“Baby boy, I’ll say again: Tell Noona exactly what you need.” Her top finally leaves her body and she shows herself off to you. Her fingers snake through her hair and you’re blessed with an unobstructed view of the most luscious tits you’ve ever seen.

“I want…” You try forcing words out of your mouth again, but Yujin makes the job (and you) so extremely hard. “I want to suck your tits.”

“Not with that attitude, mister. I am your Noona and you will speak to me with respect.” She’s got you now, her deadly scold wringing your neck and cutting off what little airflow your lungs had. You’re left with no choice; submit to her will.

“Yujin-noona, please let me suck your tits, please…” Your tongue hangs out of your mouth, anticipating the imminent pleasure of her boobs on your face. It means the world to you when she places a hand behind your head and pulls you closer.

“See, that wasn’t so hard, was it, baby boy? Say ahhh…” You follow her command and she gently pushes her left breast into your mouth. Her skin tastes delicious, and her nipple is just the right stiffness to lick and nibble and worship.

She guides you to a more comfortable position, and you find yourself laying down while Yujin is on her side, still with her boob in your mouth, while she pulls your arm towards her right boob to fondle and grope as you please.

“Is my precious baby boy comfy?” she asks much too cutely for what she’s making you do to her. “Yesh noona, ahm conhfy…” you mutter out with your tongue still wrapped around her nipple.

“Good boy…” she moans breathily. While you’re taking your fill of her perfect body, she makes her desires known: she wants you too.

Yujin finds your cock again and strokes it through your pants. “Baby boy, do me a favor, would you?” Her request makes itself apparent with the way she’s reaching under your waistband, and you could do nothing but oblige and strip yourself as quickly as possible of both pants and underwear.

“My perfect baby boy…” Her tone is laced with venom as your musk reaches her nostrils. She places a fingertip on the slit of your cock and spreads your precum all over the head. “What I’d give to do to your cock what you’re doing to my tits right now…”

Her pace speeds up, and while you have half a mind to ask her to slow down, you know you have no right to ask her of that. Instead, you go for the next best thing.

“Yujin-noona,” you surrender, her breast falling out of your mouth and onto your cheek, “could you please let me fuck your pussy?”

She chuckles again, but more evilly this time. “Of course, my sweet baby boy, but you’re gonna have to follow my lead.”

“Anything for you, Noona.”

She places you properly down onto the bed, making sure you’re comfy, and plants a kiss on your cheek. She forces you to watch, with a hand on your cheek guiding your face, as she peels off her shorts to show you more of her skin: her smooth legs, creamy thighs, and plump ass you now have the pleasure to grope as much as she’s willing to let you. She climbs on top of and straddles you, the large wet spot on her pink-and-white striped panties nearly leaking her juices onto her thighs, before she takes your hard and throbbing cock into her hands again.

“Will you be my good baby boy, sweetheart?” She spits into her hand and rubs it all over your dick, causing you to groan in pleasure.

“Yes…” “Yes, what, hmm?”

“... Yes, noona, I’ll be your good baby boy…”

“Perfect, just what I wanted to hear.” She pulls her panties to the side and rubs the head of your cock against her soaked folds. The heat radiating from her sex spurs you on even more, the delayed gratification of slipping into her causing your breaths to heave. Yujin takes on sharp inhales and slow exhales as well each time she teases her clit with your head.

Deciding to finish teasing you, Yujin finally gives you what you’re craving. She sinks down slowly onto your cock, making sure to feel every single vein inside her. Her descent is slow and deliberate and you watch as more and more of your length slips past her pussy lips and into her tight cunt.

“Ffffuck, baby boy, you’re going to split me in half with a cock like this…”

It starts to overwhelm you: the warmth from her slick, the tightness of her cunt, the clenching of her walls against your cock as if desperate for a climax as early as this. You surely want your noona like this for much longer than just a few seconds more, but you’re in absolutely no control at all.

“Baby boy, tell me if you’re close, okay?” You nod furiously, and Yujin drops herself violently onto your crotch, pushing every last inch of your cock into her cunt. “Ah, fuck! Yes, baby boy, fuck me with this thick cock of yours!”

Grab her tiny waist, feel her smooth skin, pull her up ever so slightly. Then, pull her back down onto your dick, feeling her walls clench around you so needily again. The pair of you find a rhythm, and not long after, Yujin herself bounces up and down on your shaft like a pogo stick.

“Shit, baby boy, you feel so fucking good!” She somehow finds little adjustments that push you deeper and deeper into her cunt, and in turn you hit her good spots more and more. It gets progressively more difficult to keep from creampie-ing her right then and there, but you fight for more time to receive her love.

With every thrust into her core, Yujin falters ever so slightly. You notice between her lewd moans and grunts that she’s arching forward, slowly but surely bringing her closer and closer to you. Eventually she gives up trying to stay upright, and she falls forward only to catch herself with her elbows planting deep into the mattress on either side of your head.

“Tempting, no? Hah, hah, come on, my sweet, good baby boy, give ‘em a little suck.” Barely registering the lewd words coming out of her mouth, you take her right nipple in between your teeth. Tug respectfully, but tug hard. The sensation of your teeth on her sensitive nub drives her insane, bringing her to the heights of her pleasure, and somehow even higher still. She lets you know just how blissful she is with groans and pleas you can’t help but indulge.

“Fuck, sweetheart, you’re killing me! My god, yes, please, harder,” and many more nonsense filler words spill from her mouth while you fill her cunt again and again and again. The more she rides you, the more her sweet and tight cunt leaks her juices all over her bed, causing the wet spot to make itself known to you once it grew big enough under her. At the same time, you struggle harder and harder to get your own body under control, fighting back your orgasm for just a bit more time with her like this, just a bit more.

“N- Noona, it feels so good, you feel so fucking good on my cock, Yujin-noona…” You’re completely at her mercy, and her mercy is heaven. With every bounce she makes on your cock you grow harder and hornier for her, only to be welcomed into what might be the wettest, neediest, fullest pussy in the world. You can’t get enough of her: not your cock pistoning into her cunt and poking at the entrance to her womb, not your mouth sucking and biting desperately at the flesh of her perky tits, not your hands roaming all over her body and groping every part of her you can.

“Baby boy, you’re making Noona feel so fucking good too,” she confesses hazily, and only then you notice that her eyes are falling half–shut and her straining to keep riding you. Her thighs are jiggling with her trembling core, and you figure out that she’s been spraying her girlcum all over your crotch for who knows how long now.

Her pussy only serves your cock so much better now, wetter and slicker and definitely tighter with how her pussy refuses to let you go. The feeling of her hips convulsing against you almost nearly pushes you over the edge yourself, you’re trying so hard to hold off, but she’s so cute and caring, and she’s so fucking hot…

“Noona, I- I’m so fucking close, Noona!” But Yujin is long gone, lost in her continuous orgasm, doomed to keep leaking from her cunt and mouth and riding you without her better judgment to stop. Wherever Yujin is in the confines of her mind must be drowning in pleasure to keep fucking herself on you like this.

You’re gone too, as even though you know it wouldn’t be that hard to pull her tight body off you yourself, you’re completely in love with the idea of cumming just like this. Your cock buried deep inside your friendly neighbor Choi Yujin, who fed you, hung out with you, treated you like a real brother, only to take advantage of her dazed state of mind to paint her velvet walls white with your cum, filling her to the brim with your baby-making seed, subjecting her to the motherhood of your child…

“Baby boy, do it, shoot all of it inside, sweetheart. Fill Noona up. It’s okay.” On primal instinct, you let out a low growl and grip her ass roughly. Only now do you notice how much she was moaning loudly right into your ear, tinnitus ringing a high-pitched and dizzying tone that wouldn’t stop. Your arms and legs burn with how hard and fast you’re manhandling Yujin’s body, fucking her like a wild animal that knew nothing but sex. She hasn’t stopped orgasming, you feel her slick spread more over your crotch. Her elbows finally give out and she collapses onto you, fully vulnerable to you.

“I’m Noona’s good baby boy” is your last thought before your orgasm takes over your mind. Thrust deeper than ever into her core, shoot your seed straight into her womb. Her strained voice makes one final effort to scream her earth-shattering ecstasy as each spurt of your spunk shoves itself into her, eventually forcing her cunt to leak both her and your cum out in globs. You even lose yourself in the throes of pleasure and forget that you might be hurting her; all you need to know is that her body is yours to use and breed as you like. Keep pistoning into her all the while your cock sprays your love deep into her fertile body, one spurt, two, three, five, eight, eleven, before you lose count and just focus on feeling good with your cute and caring noona.

Once the world stops spinning and calms down, you find yourself dizzy and gasping for air through a dry-as-a-desert mouth. With fatigue plaguing every part of your body, you can’t even find the strength to get into a less uncomfortable position. Your eyes try to drift lazily across the ceiling, getting your bearings, but Yujin has one last command for you.

“My sweet baby boy, you did so well for Noona. Get your rest, baby.” She places her hand on your eyes, pushing them shut. She keeps her hand there, making sure you don’t open your eyes again while you feel her lips planting kisses on your face, trailing a line from your cheek to your neck. Finally, she licks and then nibbles your lower lip lightly, rewarding you for doing such a good job.

“B-but what about the mess? And you might get preg–” “Shush now, let Noona worry about that, okay? Sweet dreams, baby boy.”

You stand no chance against her; your fatigue takes over your body and the calmness of the air lulls you into a sense of serenity. As the final nail in the coffin, Yujin refuses to get off of you despite your best attempts at pulling out and pushing her off. Without even realizing it, you fall deep asleep amidst her comforting weight, tender kisses, and soft coos.

~~~

a/n: i went into this fic blind actually. only when I was about half done did I think to check if yujin was actually good at cooking at all but turns out shes not :/

#girl group smut #kpop smut #kep1er smut #clc cmut #choi yujin smut

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bunicate · 1 month

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omg congrats on pulling bladie!!! big brother blade lives on my mind ngl ik he loves to spoil his lil sister’s pussy the second his parents r outta the houseee ˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶

⋆⁺₊❅⋆ ᡣ𐭩ྀིྀི ₊˚ 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒃𝒂𝒅 𝒌𝒊𝒏𝒅 𝒐𝒇 𝒍𝒐𝒗𝒆 . blade x fem reader

warnings ꒱ྀི incest. brief anal. creampie. a litl bit of possessive bladie. he says some dubious things. just a smidge of jealousy. “little girl” usage. breeding mention. unedited ofkurs ﾉ wc ꒱ 1.4k ﾉ 18+ ﾉ if uncomfy pls scroll or block ^_^

muhehe tysm ! ! still trying to build him ! he’s far from perfect but at least he’s at home with me. yk I had 2 pull through nd write smthn icky for him but I did go in a tad bit different direction :<<

you feel it, regret pooling in the pit of your stomach like rocks settling at the bottom of a shallow lake. the beating of your heart stutters out of tandem with the batter of blades hips.

his firm hands anchor themselves on the softness of your lower back, dull nails digging into your skin like thorns.

he fucks you with such depravity, and your obnoxiously noisy cunt salivated in response to the familiar bump of his cock.

it was far too late for regrets, you knew it well, even as he’s buried himself to the hilt. your parents were a thing of the past, but there’s always the potential of subjecting an innocent passerby to the sight of your brother rubbing your tender insides with his cock.

despite your roused state, you're still capable of reason, though your brother seemed to have a complete disregard for it.

“b-bladie.”

it’s soft on his ears, polite, although honeyed with a subtle warning accompanied by the slow pulse of your cunt.

his cock twitches from your quiet plea. he’s close, and at this point, he knows better than to cross the line any further, but you were elusive to your own charms. how could he bury his urges when your round and soft butt continued to smack against his pelvis ? your cunt drooled each time he pulled out.

its such a sight for sore eyes, and somehow his gaze kept wandering to the tight rim above, making his breathing ragged— almost animalistic.

he’s seen all of you, sights no older brother should witness, but it didn’t stop him from wanting more.

it should terrify you, the lengths he goes to stake his claim over you. coming as close as threatening to breed you and keep you bound to him like a pet. predators would be wise to never cross the hunter, even they could sense the extent of his prowess.

blade purposefully keeps you out of his affairs, but you know he’s a fearsome warrior. he’s tall and slender and with each movement, his hulk of muscle flexes. he’s strong enough to drag your body up and down his member, serving as a stark reminder of the gap in strength.

blade's palms, rough from wielding his ancient sword, settled on both sides of your waist, steels its grip. his thumb presses against your back, and the tips of his fingers meet at your belly button.

he bounces you on his cock, using you like a doll factored for fucking. he lifted you repeatedly like you weighed nothing and all you could do was submit to his brutal pace.

blade bites his lip to prevent curses from escaping.

he feels . . . good, better than usual. your swollen pussy tugs on his length, drawing out the remnants of his willpower. the desire to cum and bury it in your womb causes blood to rush.

like you can sense the danger, you peer over your shoulder cautiously.

“you h-have to pull out . . y’can’t just cum inside, okay ?”

such a redundant conversation, and he pays it no mind.

what good would it be to do something so risky—so wrong, but for blade, it would be worth the peril.

he doesn’t acknowledge your admonition, instead pressing you further into the sheets, elongating the arch in your back.

“stay still.”

his hand collides with your backside and a startled gasp echoes. the apple of your ass cheek stings, while the damp release between your thighs becomes stickier.

the weight on the bed dips when your big brother lowers himself. his chest presses to your back when he fucks you again.

roaring slaps of moist flesh lie thick in the air. you’re soft, so fragile in his embrace that he could crush you like a dainty flower trampled from being hidden between shards of grass.

when blade feels that familiar tender pulse of your cunt signaling your finish, he painfully pulls out as per your whiny request. he utterly despised having to separate himself from you, but nonetheless, he obeys your wishes. sort of.

his cock stands tall and thick, cream dripping from the edge of his tip. your pussy is agape in front of him, but his eyes linger on the tight coil of your ass.

rough palms enclose in a tight fist around his shaft. he pumps his cock, staring daggers at the rim until his balls hang heavier.

he wanted to empty them, he wanted nothing more than to milk his cock using your sweet cunt, but the hunger that normally consumed him wanted something else for a change.

he slaps his tip against your puckered hole, humping the pretty flesh. his leaking head increasingly swells as the seconds pass by, turning bright pink. the hunter groans, and heaves, his sickening thoughts running rampant while he envisions himself filling up his little sister.

he’s no longer computing, his body moves on autopilot, and he’s wiping his glossy tip over your ass.

“hnn-! n-no more. not there bladie !”

you squeal. the sensation is new and foreign, and you find yourself torn between begging for more or scrambling away.

a growing smirk settles on his face, and you see a slither of his sharp teeth.

“you're mouthy today. maybe i should put my cock somewhere else instead.”

you tense when his tip probes your tight muscle again, rubbing it in circles. he was stimulating your ass, forcing your pussy to twitch out of neglect.

he mumbles to himself.

“such a brainless girl. i thought i made it clear that i take what i want.”

his orbital pools mimicking the color of blood narrow. he’s almost there, sloppily fucking the skin of your ass until the slippery head of his member breaches the tight ring. and then he snaps.

with a single, calculated thrust, relief rains down in waves. he buries his cock in all the way as streams of his cum spurt out, dressing your walls in milky webs.

it’s warm as it fills your insides and your mind becomes a foggy maze. instead of your big brother cumming inside your cunt, he emptied his load in your ass, and nothing but burgeoning heat swallows you up.

“thats it . . take what i give you.”

it’s hard to retain anything when his breath tickles the sides of your cheek and his pulsing sack mushes against your clit.

“no part of you is off limits, little girl.”

by now, you're writhing, and you can’t think about how full you felt. not when his words had you mewling out of shame and excitement.

blade makes sure to deliver a few more thrusts, just to be certain that he’s been thoroughly drained. his heart thrums against his chest, reminding him that he's real—you’re real, and that his cock is stretching his little sister’s ass.

his breathing becomes uneven, the exhales of air caressing the plains of your damp skin.

he lowers his head, his lips settling by the shell of your ear.

“soon . .”

long strands of his hair fall into place , resting on your own skin.

“i'll cum inside this tiny cunt and there's nothing you'll be able to do about it.”

a shiver runs down your spine. equal parts of fear and eagerness for that fateful day of promise.

when he pulls out, his seed drips from your opening down the length of your slit. both of his hands grab your ass cheeks to watch the cum nestle between your lower lips and spill on the already soiled sheets.

carefully he watches your cunt push out the remnants, watching it cascade in thick dollops.

“such greedy holes.”

you puff out your cheeks and move the stringy hairs from your face.

“stop it . . it’s so embarrassing when you say that .”

you attempt to kick him off, and of course it’s thwarted by his iron hold on you.

he presses a sloppy kiss on your asshole, uncaring of the mess coating your sensitive parts.

“eeeeeeeek -! you’re sooooooo gross, bladie ! get away from me !”

he spanks your ass to hush your outburst.

“shut up.”

he kisses you to silence more of your complaints. the faint taste of cum on his soft lips mingling against your spit - slicked ones.

he pulls away audibly, taking a calm breath.

“you're seeing jing yuan tomorrow.”

you raise an eyebrow at the sudden mention of the general.

your brother is nothing less of a maverick, only keeping you close and others at a less than reasonable distance.

jing yuan however complicated things. while they weren't as close, anymore you still made an effort to see him despite their soured relationship.

in his scarce free time when he wasn't resting, he taught you all sorts of things. he helped time escape you when boredom struck in blade's absence.

you nod stiffly, still skeptical at the hunter before you. you're wary of his intentions, but too stimulated to care.

blade's face betrays no emotion and so, you’re suddenly startled.

you gasp when his teeth nicks at your neck.

he sucks the skin for a few seconds and then kisses the spot he bruised. proud of his handiwork he pulls away to speak up once more. you can nearly hear his smugness.

“. . . send my regards to the general.”

#૮꒰ ๑´ତ `๑ ꒱ྀིა #blade x reader smut #blade x reader #blade x female reader #blade x you #blade x y/n #blade smut #hsr blade #yingxing x reader #yingxing x you #honkai smut #honaki star rail #hsr x reader #hsr smut #female reader #tw:incest

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bluejutdae · 2 months

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you prolly already know who it is but im requesting a little for whenever you feel up to it lovely <3 with either felix or seungmin maybe, hard thought or blurb or whatever. just. a lil something of them being a bit jealous and getting touchy/riled up? hehe

I know I said I don’t take request and I don’t but this is no simple request, this is for my sweet moot, and I do make the rules here, so 😌

Drawing you in my dreams (Close to you - KSM) | Seungmin x you

warnings: nsfw

Best friend Seungmin who spends most of his free time with you, watching movies, going out shopping or buying you dinner. Who insists you’re not going to pay, who stomps like an annoyed puppy when you tried anyway.

Best friend Seungmin who starts to hide you wallet just before you go out, so you can’t pay even when you try to. The first time you think you’re just distracted, the second time you start to worry. On what's probably the 10th time, you catch him dropping you wallet on your couch and you don’t have it in you to confront him cause he’s so damn much endearing.

Best friend Seungmin who insists on being your plus one on a family member wedding you don’t want to go to, who casually slips his arms around your waist and drags you closer to him whenever someone comes to talk to you. Who dotes on you and who is uncharacteristically sweet anytime an older relative jabs at you for not being married yet, who compliments at you and looks at you like you hang the moon. What a fantastic actor, uh?

He’s a terrible actor, he can’t act for shit. He thinks he’s being way too much obvious and tries to reign it in but it’s impossible, it’s like a dam broke and now all he was keeping barricaded has no chance but to flow out.

Best friend Seungmin who insists on giving you a piggy ride from the car to your apartment, 'cause your feet must hurt and 'cause you must be tired and 'cause it’s fun.

He’s terrified by the thought of letting you go. He wants today to never stop, he wants his arm to be draped over you everyday of his life.

Best friend Seungmin who lets you convince him to being dragged on the dance floor, a drink too much on the bloodstream, air too stuffy and hot. Who thinks you look a bit too much sexy in your clothes and with a thin layer of sweat clinging to your neck and upper chest.

Best friend Seungmin who takes a step back to watch you dance, lost in the music, beautiful as always. You body calling to him like a siren call.

He’s lost at sea, swinging side by side in a sea of bodies, moving like the tide is dragging him, but it doesn’t matter to him. Not then you’re his siren, calling to him. And what was that about sirens and singing to men, calling them to certain death? If that’s what death looks like, he’s going down head first. Heart first.

Best friend Seungmin who freezes instantly when a pair of stranger hands places themselves on your hips, the body of another man getting close (too close) to you. Who watches as words are said into your ear, the music loud but the pumping of his blood louder in his ears. A cold shiver down his spine, hands fisted tight.

Best friend Seungmin who closes the distance between you two and puts his hands on the strangers’, grabs them and pries them away from your skin. Best friend Seungmin who stares down at him, the coldest stare you’ve ever seen him give to someone and your breath hitches.

He can accept you paying for lunch, he can get over the fact that you never seem to realize his hyungs often make fun of him for being so smitten for you, but he’s not gonna stand and let someone touch you right on front of him.

Best friend Seungmin who, as soon as the other guy leaves, softly grabs your chin between two fingers and looks into your eyes, intense and serious, with a small frown between his eyebrows. Best friend Seungmin who shakes his head and puts his forehead on yours, who would like to scream but he only manages to say “don’t do this to me”.

Best friend Seungmin who stays still when you put your arms around his neck, fingers playing with the short hair on his neck, a little damp from sweat. Who’s ready to hear you say you’re just friend and want nothing more.

Best friend Seungmin who feels fireworks in his chest when you kiss him, his rapid heartbeats like celebratory drums, strong and constant.

This is what he has wanted since he met you: your lips on his, your permission to call you ‘his’. He already does that in his mind, but he wants to do that out loud, too. To call you ‘his’ in front of friends and families. He has wanted and wanted and wanted so much, now that he’s finally kissing you he can’t really believe it.

Best friend Seungmin who kisses you like a starving man but in a second he’s pulling away, pupils blown back and spit slick lips. And again he says “don’t do this to me”. What he can’t say is: don’t kiss me if it doesn’t mean something to you, too. Don’t make me fall even deeper for you if you’re gonna rip my heart from my chest just after. Don’t make me hope even more. Don’t break my heart. Don’t wrap your fingers behind my neck, don’t drag me down onto your lips if you’re not gonna want to do that for the rest of your life.

Best friend Seungmin who grabs your hand and almost drags you out of the bar, into the cold night, not a word spoken, and pushes you into a corner alley, pushes you on the cold wall and, again, puts his forehead on yours.

“Don’t kiss me if you don’t mean it.”

Best friend Seungmin whose heart threatens to jump out of his chest when you tell him you mean it, that you want him just like he wants you, that you want more, more, more, so much more…

Best friend Seungmin who looks at you with determination and call you ‘his’, out loud this time: the first time but not the last.

Boyfriend Seungmin who holds your hand like it’s made of glass, like it’s made of diamond, delicate but strong at the same time; who calls a taxi and gives your address, who cradles your face in his free hand and looks at you like you’re the most beautiful creature in the whole universe, kisses your eyelids, your cheeks, your chin and your nose, your temple, your forehead, your lips. Soft little kisses to imprint his love into your skin.

Boyfriend Seungmin who undresses you slowly, kissing every inch of skin he’s uncovering, a starving man in front of a buffet, kisses and little bites and kitten licks all over your body; hands roaming, his heart beating fast and strong, celebrating. If he has to put his face in the crook of your neck for a moment, to hide his slightly wet eyes and take a deep breath, then that’s between him and god. But maybe breathing so close to where your scent is so strong wasn’t the best idea to collect himself.

Boyfriend Seungmin who’s so hard for you, and he shows it by grinding his hips against yours. He undresses fast and he’s on you not even a second later.

Boyfriend Seungmin who shakes his head and laughs quietly when you insist he doesn’t have to eat you out. “And deprive myself from something I’ve dreamt for years?”. Who places a kiss on your hip bone. “Something I’ve imagined countless times?” Who places a kiss on one of your knees, another kiss on the other knee, and pries your legs open, watches where you’re wet for him. “Something I’ve touched myself to just the thought of?”. Who looks at you, laid open there, for him to devour, and finally gets his mouth on you, moaning the moment his tongue touches your wet folds. Who wraps his big hand around your thighs, his strong hands leaving imprints on your skin and you revels in it, in the idea of being marked by your boyfriend, and he keeps eating you out, tongue and lips and then his fingers too, pushing and pulling and sucking and licking and it’s so perfect, so good you can only scream his name over and over again while you cum.

Boyfriend Seungmin who raises his head only when you grab his hair and push his face away from where you’re too sensitive, too raw to let him keep going, so he winks at you (he winks, and for a moment you think he’s a madman), and then he licks his lips, uses his thumb to gather more of the wetness around his mouth and pops it into his mouth and he moans at the taste of you, like he wasn’t buried in your sweet cunt just three seconds ago (you’re convinced he’s a madman).

Boyfriend Seungmin who covers you with his body and kisses you, letting you taste yourself on your tongue, and can’t help it but grab a handful of your tits and play with them, enthralled by the way they jiggle under his hand. Curious on how it’d feel under his tongue, he laps at your nipple and latches into it, using his teeth carefully, just to hear your breath hitch and all the other sweet noises you make.

Boyfriend Seungmin who pushes inside you and for a moment -an infinite moment- time stops, the world stops spinning on its axis and start spinning the other way.

This is the reason wars are fought, this is the reason wars are won. This moment here, finally being able to be one with the one you love, with the other half of your soul, this moment right here is the best thing he’s ever felt. But that’s too much to say, so he just mutters a quiet

“You feel so good, taking me so well. Like you were made for me”.

Boyfriend Seungmin who fucks you like his life depends on it, focused on making you feel good, on feeling good himself, on enjoying this moment. Who repeats ‘mine, mine, all mine, just mine, only mine’ over and over again and again and again because in this moment, too much is not enough. You’re his and he’s yours, and he tells you that, shows you that. Bites down to leave the imprint of his teeth and sucks on the skin, drawing blood and then soothing the pain with his tongue, kitten licks and soft kisses almost like an apology.

Boyfriend Seungmin who holds you close to him, your head under his chin, his hands cradling the back of your head and his lips on your temple, leaving kisses and words of love.

Boyfriend Seungmin who whispers how much he loves you, how perfect you are, how happy you make him, how he’s never letting you go, how he’s gonna marry you, have a family with you because he knows, he might be young and maybe he doesn’t know everything about the world, about love maybe even, but he knows this: you’re the love of his life, and he has no intention of ever letting you go.

(Husband Seungmin, years later, who holds your hand and watches, happy, the ring on your finger shining under the sun, the material, public symbol of your love. He loves to look at it, but he loves the private symbols even more: the home you share, your bed filled with laughter and happy memories, the kitchen table where you have breakfast together most mornings, where you laugh and share food, the wall filled with photos of you and him, always together, always happy, always in love… )

#stray kids fanfic #stray kids imagines #stray kids scenarios #stray kids x reader #bluejutdae #skz #seungmin x you #seungmin x reader #Thiana writes Seungmin #bluejutdae asks: Seungmin

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honestsycrets · 9 months

Text

exclusive | [miguel o'hara x reader, hobie brown x reader]

❛ pairing | fuck buddies: miguel o'hara x reader, hobie brown x reader (background pairing)

❛ type | one-shot, explicit

❛ summary | miguel learns his fuck buddy is fucking Hobie and feels some type of way about it.

❛ tags | heavy jealousy, somnophilia, fuck buddies, multiple partners, undisclosed sexual relationship, dubious consent: aggression/revenge, sloppy seconds, f!reader, lying by omission, spanish is not translated, an attempt at MLE, break ups, eating kitty, bit angsty, older hobie in this piece, break-ups.

❛ reqs fulfilled | Hey! I saw your requests were open and I wanted to know if you'd be down with writing something about Miguel x Reader who has been whining for his cock all day, crying and trying to run from it when he finally gives it to her? & where reader loves him but he doesn't, only for him to eventually fall in love but its too late because she's moved on, or vice versa

❛ sy's notes | here's for the anon that requested i release it. hope you like it, lil buddy.

Miguel wakes early in the morning.

Lyla usually woke him up with a Hey Miguel, Miguel, You have a meeting Miguel-- something teasing and aggravating all at once. That morning his room was so silent that he could nearly feel the heaving and dropping of a second heartbeat. His vision strains as his eyes take focus on the pitch-black room. He takes up the bulk of the bed with his large frame while the pillows are strewn over the floor. Your complaints of-- You never come to find me, you always ignore me. He quickly remembers what happened last night. Your legs were intertwined in his, scaling him like he was another bed in of himself.

"Lyla, what time is it?" he asks, massaging the crook in his neck. The world is quiet in his room. Out there, he knew there would be one problem after another. As soon as he peeled himself from the comfort of your warm embrace. Your legs intertwined in his, keeping him in the warmth of his bed, a spider's web of its own. He hates that he doesn't want to leave. Not yet, anyway. He knows he's in deep.

"About--" she pauses, "Nine o'clock?"

"¿Las nueve?" he shouts, pushing himself up on his thick forearms. "Damn it, Lyla!"

"I would've woken you up sooooner," she draws out in a long tease. "If you weren't too busy pounding your novía until three in the morning."

"She's not my girlfriend," not yet, he bit out, unpeeling your warm legs from his core. A brush more and he would have another type of problem to deal with that morning. As nice as it would have been to lay back down and wait until sleep released its tight grip on you, he had obligations.

"Yeah," she scoffs. "Okay, Miguel."

Lyla knew what he wanted. He wanted this. You-- to help make him forget the past and the future. To forget all the awful things that haunted him day to day. You could do that. He feels your sleepy eyes on him as he turns to sit up in his bed. Your heavy eyelids are cloaked with the ache for sleep. Or half-lidded in fervor for another round. He isn't sure which, yet.

"Te quiero, Miggy," he knows it isn't love you're talking about. Early in the morning, you need sex. He knows how insatiable you are even without your hands slinking around his muscular thigh, inching their way where they had no business going. He cups your hand and pushes away from his softness, knowing he has no time to spare getting worked up. Distracted. It's time to work.

"Manaña. Go back to sleep, I have things to do."

"Tomorrow? I'm not a tomorrow kinda girl, Miggy. " You're that kind of woman-- needy, achy, you need more from him. No matter how much he gave you with attentiveness and care, he could never give you enough. Your words are clear as you turn away, pouting. Miguel throws a look over his shoulder. "You're the only one who treats me like this."

There's the fit. Miguel ran his hand through his hair, shoving it out of his face as he gathers his bearings. You're slack against his back, lips curling into a pout at his suggestion that you'd simply have to wait for more attention.

"No empieces," he throws back. "I spent the night with you two nights in a row."

"To get off. Hobie's right about you. You'd never go to a show'a mine."

If there were ever an interloper in your relationship. It was, and would forever be, Hobie Brown. The displeasure on your face gently pulls at his heart. He's never been to one of your shows before. He's never even asked. It never seemed important to you until now.

He could do that.

"Where and when," his stomach roiled with something he'd distantly call anxiety. There was a truth to what Hobie said, he couldn't be a good boyfriend and take care of spider society all alone. He'd sure as hell try. If you thought Hobie was better, so be it. Miguel wrinkled his nose, concern lining his bushy eyebrows as he stood up, hands on his hips.

"Oh Miggy, that's just what I wanted. It's tomorrow!"

"Tomorrow, then."

Isn't that what he said earlier?

"Hobie!"

It doesn’t matter where it is, your eyes always seem to find Hobie. Ideally, Miguel would like your eyes to always find him. You spent the night in his arms yesterday and the night before that. Perhaps that was why you missed the spider punk. So when he walked into the meeting early that morning and dropped like a rock on the elevated platform you sat on, he wasn’t altogether surprised that you turned around to look at Hobie.

He was, however, surprised to see your hand slink along his plaid thigh, tugging on his lax suspenders. You're late, he heard you whisper. Yeah, what you going to do about it? Hobie reached out, letting his fingertips ghost lines up your arms. Miguel barks out your name, your fingers snapping back as if a spider bit them. They might.

“Oh my days, bruv, we gonna talk about this?” Hobie ripped off his mask, dropping it lazily by your hip. You swept it up and set it on your thighs. He suckled along the roof of his mouth, pulling his lip piercing in and out with a deliberate, slow hiss. “Or you busy watching my side ting?”

"Hobie," you willed him down. Your eyes catch and hold. "Shhh."

“Mans right pussywhipped,” Hobie balked out a laugh, bouncing at that awful word. His jaw tightened at the distinct sound of Hobie’s hands slapping your shoulder. Hobie is in a mood today. He wouldn’t mind if he wasn’t being picked on. “Look at him, is he serious? You mad, man?”

Hobie!

“I’m not.”

“I like the sound of that,” he could hear you whisper into Hobie’s ear, his senses more queued into small whispers than anyone else in the room. You rolled the word along your tongue. "Pussy whipped. You next?"

It was like he wasn’t even there. As if every moment you spent together was irrelevant. The days that the tips of your fingers grazed his shoulder blades, sweeping across his tight muscles. He remembered how it felt, your careful kisses on his neck after a long day, the drag of your nails across his muscular back as you took him so well on the desk he lectured at.

“You bugging? You know that's not happening. You ovulatin' today?”

Miguel prompts your name. You sit upright, his perfect good girl, a whole other person when you weren’t around Hobie. His brow creases and lines of worry and disappointment coalesce into a look that invites you to behave. You were listening now with a blow of a kiss at him as though that would deter him from finding out.

Miguel doesn’t like it when Hobie takes the piss out of him.

He especially doesn’t like that Hobie seems to know the intimate details about your body, like your cycle. That near the end of the month, every month, your sex drive ran wild. He thought it was a myth. None of the other women he had in his bed acted this way. You, however, were insatiable. If he didn’t know better… He flicked his fingers across amber screens, doing something he never did because he had no reason not to trust you. He skimmed your file.

Hobie was a consistent fixture in your life. Always at his damn concerts, clapping wildly at his old runway shows, drinking at the pub. You were an outlier dolled up in soft white, sparkling glitter makeup and darling strawberry blush next to a group of grungy anarchists and foul punks. On any given day, you might hold his head in your lap as your fingers coursed through his wicks. On special days, you buy new jewelry to change out the old. Every weekend, you like to sit on his lap in the pub of the week.

The others were negligible. He could excuse them. Hobie was something more. All it took was one offensive recording of sitting on Hobie’s lap in a seedy bar for his mind to turn red hot.

Despite being populated with many patrons, it didn’t stop you two from fucking in the bar after one of Hobie's loud shows. Others did the same exact shit. The ringing strumming, the shouting, fighting. It wasn't a scene he could see you at.

"Right there, papi, Hobie, there," your hips ground down, sultry moans puffing against his spiked choker while Hobie’s urged you up and down his cock, groping and slapping your ass around his dick. Your pink ballerina flats willing the movement by using the footrest to help guide your motion.

"Good, innit?" You didn't just like it, he realized, you loved it. Your huffy moans, the stares from strangers, the way Hobie commanded the scene. The bartender even threw Hobie a beer. Miguel wasn’t sure if it was Hobie's arrogance that no one was a threat or arrogance that no one would protest, but it pissed him off the same. He fucked you like it was nothing-- like fucking you in front of a host of sleazy men wasn’t a risk in and of itself.

He was too informal with you. He didn't treasure what he had. It was not the same, not like him. He heard your gentle footsteps in the lab. He shifted his weight between his feet, turning to see you hop up the platform. You fluttered your lashes angelically at him. Mi rey, you trilled. Your king. As though he hadn’t just watched you get railed by Hobie only days ago.

It was a fucking trap. A trap he was buying into, drinking you in. You looked pretty without your suit, clothed in a white, fluttery dress that barely kissed your thighs and nothing more. Like a fly to a spider web, he found himself gaping with his lips slightly apart. He brought his hand to his slight mouth, wiping away all inkling of his interest. You pout.

Miguel snapped back to his monitor. It was your scent lingering in the air, hypnotizing his dumb ass, your body eager and ready for him to pound full of his cum. Why else would you be in his lab? When you were strung out on his bed, properly bred, and leaking his cum, he was happy. He was happy with the tremors that wracked through your pathetic legs, that you were finally quiet for once in your damn--

“Oh? What's that?”

Miguel’s attention snapped to your figure, sliding along the edge of his desk, moving his hand without fear. You replaced it on your upper thigh, driving it between your legs. Horny again. His blown pupils followed the motion of your hand. He cursed his body for growing warm at the sight and smell of you. He hardening up as if his body had learned what to expect in the many days of experience fucking you. Most would have reconsidered what they were doing to him. Not you. You had no fear of men. You wanted him. Were you that insatiable?

“Hobie n' me?” you shimmied your shoulders with a knowing grin. The screen paused on a wet, sloppy kiss, Hobie's teeth nipping your lower lip. He was a biter. How had he missed his bites on your neck? Your soft, perfumed hand cradled Miguel's cheek, peppered in stubble. Your lips shifted up, tracing his sharp cheekbones. “Aw. I missed you too, Miggy. I always miss you. You're my big man.”

Yours. He might as well have been yours because you sure as damn weren't his. You led him on your little fingers with words like honey. A soothing honey that threatened to suffocate him in the weight of the words. If he listened long enough, he might fall in. Guilting him about his lack of time for you, Hobie Brown, the relationship you had, the kisses you exchanged, the sex-- the lies you omitted.

Miguel glides the clip away, bringing another to inspect. You remember it-- the day Hobie found out you fucked Miguel after a few hours of reconnaissance went south. You hadn't meant to piss him off. You only meant to take care of your needs. Needs that included sex. He was a means to an end, a brute that could fill what you needed. That much was becoming real clear, real fast.

"It go that bad? He got you in a fit," Hobie says. He can't help but notice you wringing out your suit, flinging it in your half-filled hamper by your bra, standing in nothing but a pair of soiled panties. Bruto, murmured under your breath-- a brute. He was. Hobie flickered his fingers off his guitar, a stray note irritating your hypersensitive ears. You cupped your ears in protest. "Oi, why are you airing me?"

"I'm not ignoring you. I just--" you bit the words, warm dread filling your chest with the next lie you told. You twirled your hands one over another. "I have a sore throat."

"A sore throat."

He wasn't buying that either.

"It's minor. Just a-- tú sabes, a little thing," you turned your hand over, whirling your bra drawer open with enough force to rip it out. Another growl rolled free from your lips, picking a powdery pink set and shoving it promptly back in. The drawer sat off-kilter. Hobie flipped his guitar over his shoulder and met you halfway, his hand warm on your mid back. It should have been comforting. Something in his eyes, even now, felt off. He recovered before you could answer.

"You fucked that man? Are you mad or what, wifey?"

You couldn't help feeling like you cheated on Hobie.

He stood upright, ripping himself away from your body, and brought his hand to his face to focus his thoughts. He had been fucking you for months-- and for months, he missed it. Miguel searched your eyes for a hint of shame or embarrassment. You had none, not even a lick. You were a kid in a panadería. Not only could you have Hobie, with his slender figure and exhibitionist qualities, but Miguel too-- with his big dick and need for love at the end of a long day’s work.

You played him.

His breath hitched as you turned around, shifting your hips back on his. It was enough. He had enough. His hand slammed over the rim, locking you in place against his muscular body. There was nowhere to run, even if you wanted to. You were happy to be there. Miguel wasn’t. His fingers trembled violently, forming a fist. You knew he wouldn't hit you. For all his rumble and roar, Miguel couldn't hurt you nearly as much as you could hurt him.

“You’re fucking Hobie,” he breathed into your ear.

“Mmm.”

A slight, noncommittal noise slipped out from your lips. It was not a denial, but not an agreement either. Irritation rippled across his skin with every damn swish of your round hips against his, shifting weight from one ball of your foot to the other. His body was alight with your soft body drawing trying to draw his pleasure to the surface. You were trying to distract him. Miguel wasn't about to let you.

"Answer me," he bucked his slender hips into yours, forcing you to catch yourself on the desk. You groaned. He had half the mind to fuck you right there, break in your pussy and leave you drooling over his desk. That would be easy. That was what you wanted.

"It's just sex."

“Are you dating him?”

“We don't do labels,” you said.

Miguel wracked your head back by your hair. A strangled moan slipped free from your lips, pleasure rushing to your cunt. You liked it. There were important details he had to know. Like-- if you used protection, or if you were safe when you weren't with him, or how you rid Hobie in raunchy pubs, and if you made out with Hobie until it was time to sleep. You know, important details.

“I do. I don’t share my women.”

“Yours? Fucking a woman ain’t keeping her, Miguel. You never asked me out on a date, put a ring on my finger, nada. It’s sex. Don't pretend like it's anything more."

"Is that all we are?"

"I've been fucking Hobie for months, Miguel. You want me to drop him-- for you? You don't even have time for me in the mornings."

His hand uncurled from your scalp, shoving you into the desk. He leaped off the platform, trudging somewhere, anywhere away from your body. He feared what he might do next if he kept hearing Hobie's damn name on your lips.

He could have done it-- let you have Hobie if you wanted Hobie so badly.

But it bothered him. Of all the women he could have had, he picked you. You were the only one he let grab him, shove him into hallways, suck him off under his desk, and be thankful for the strands of cum painting your nose and cheeks. You were the only one who slept with him at night.

Did Hobie need you the same way? Did he want you the same way Miguel did-- when he was inside of you, clambering over your body like a hungry beast, making you lay there and take him as he laid his brutal thrusts into your pussy. The way he battered your cunt, filled it up with his seed. Watched you heave heavy breaths-- because you were his to fuck and fill. The prospect of filling you up with his cum while Hobie was doing the same thing… ticked him off.

You were his, a territory that Hobie had no business entering. You had none allowing him to. Hobie didn’t claim ownership of anybody or anything at any time. It went against all he stood for. Miguel was inexorable. He wasn’t so bothered about the details. So long as the result was to his satisfaction.

“She’s at home, Miguel,” Lyla squeaked.

“Alone?”

“If you mean with Hobie,” she popped over his shoulder, sitting as if on a cloud in her fluffy jacket. His eyes rolled. “Then yes, he's there.”

"Show me."

"Nah, nah, nah, he's gassing you. How that man not know about us?"

You sat on your kitchen table, plopped with a hunk of pizza between your fingertips from the pizzeria below your house. Hobie's boots were thrown beside your mini-skirt. His chew was lazy and long. You sighed through it. You nipped the last bits of crust and grease off your fingertips.

"No sé. We never been a secret," you wiped off the rest of the grease between your thighs, ignoring the thought of your very first time with Hobie. But it was persistent, tickling the back of your mind, raging havoc on your unsettled heart.

White was your favorite shade. It was light, airy, like the sky. The sensation of falling through tufts of clouds. But it also made the consistent British rainstorms all the more irksome. The way water dribbled down your wet suit, your nipples perked as you rushed into his flat begging for something else to wear, Hobie's laughter dying out into that deep, low hum. His band shirt was ruined with the sticky stains of his cum.

"You thinking about it again?" Hobie read the way your eyes glazed over in an instant. His feet thumped onto the floor, swiveling in his chair and parting your legs. He leaned forward, his hands on either side of your tiny miniskirt. Your eyes tracked his gloved fingers peeking underneath your skirt. Not to pull down your thin panties, but caress small, consoling circles. "Yeah. You are. We just fucked. You're insatiable, wifey. You wet already? Want me again?"

"Hobie," you breathed. "What if he don't come tomorrow?"

"Then he don't," Hobie outstretched his finger, rubbing your soft chin to look up. "You don't need that wasteman."

"I got you?" you slid your fingers down to his slender palm, gliding over the tops of his knuckles. Hobie's lip pulled into a one-sided smirk, nodding to the side.

"Yeah, you got me."

By the time Hobie left, all thoughts of Miguel were non-existent. Mostly, because Hobie fucked you into exhaustion. You were out cold, strewn among fluffy sheets that wreaked of his musk of cigarettes and the sandalwood oil Pavitr gifted him. Hobie’s scent was here, there, everywhere it shouldn’t be as Miguel slunk into your slightly parted window.

Most offensively, Hobie’s cum was dripping out of your cunt. He suppressed the urge to roll his eyes. If you wanted him so badly all day, you easily replaced him with Hobie’s dick. He climbed the foot of the bed, watching your face twitch, almost trying to wake up from your sex-fueled haze.

“Mmm,” the small, ineffectual noise caused him to drift his eyes across your silky legs to your lips. There was a gentle pleasure in watching you sleep. He had seen it many times when he crept in the shadows when you were most beautiful. When you were half asleep, your hands draped among fluffy pillows. To be the first sight in the morning, and if possible, the last thing you thought of at night.

If he weren’t so angry with you, you would have been a vision for his sore eyes. His fingertips swerved up and down your inner thigh, curling around until he found your vulva, still swollen and wet from sex with Hobie. Miguel urged his thumb over your swollen clit, zig-zagging along to separate your folds.

As he suspected-- you had fucked him. Miguel urged the cum out of your system with a squeeze of your folds, rolling his fingers along the outer lips. His dilated eyes flickered up, catching a soft sigh in your chest. His fingers breached your wetness, easing the cum free from your body with small sweeps of his fingers.

“Mmm?” you breathed. His fingers slipped away, dragging your hips to his waiting mouth. Caked in the allure of sleep, your moan went without a response. Miguel’s pink tongue separated your folds, small mincing suckles coursing from your entrance to weave around your folds, deliberately avoiding your waiting clitoris.

"Who's it?" The pressure caused your lids to spread apart, lifting your hand from the lush silk pillow under your head to the top of his head. His tongue languidly coursed back down, poking at your entrance. The coziness of your sleep faded away. You dropped a hand to the top of his head to run through his thick dark brown hair, his sharp eyes flicking up to meet yours. Miguel could definitely have been a dream, but he wasn't.

“Miggy… I missed you,” you complained, reaching for the soft pink strawberry he won you once upon a time at a carnival. You had to beg, and beg, and blow his cock under his desk to get him to go. You looked so damn cute. Innocent. You were neither. “You should have come earlier--”

“To see you fuck Hobie?” he blew warm air against your cunt. Your hips shuttered against his face, thighs knocking his sharp cheekbones.

"You're still mad at me." This time, shame surely caught in your chest, a tremor of mean pleasure was minced with the pain of letting Miguel down. He knew it did. You wouldn't look him in the eye again but gripped the comforting strawberry a little harder.

“Considering you fucked him after we spoke, it’ll stay that way.” Miguel rose his hand to caress the outside folds as he worked, slurping the inner ones between his lips. You winced when his wet finger slid inside your hole. It squished obscenely, hungry and wet for his touch after such a tiresome day of longing.

“It’s-- it’s still sensitive.”

“I don’t care. You lied to me.” A brief glance at any watch would reveal that you’d barely slept at all. Miguel wouldn’t let you have rest, not if he could hold you accountable for your games with his heart and dick. His lush lips closed over your clit, flickering and sucking sloppily, drawing shocks of pleasure down your spine. You dug the heel of your palm into the sheets, struggling to slide out from under him. It was too much to wake up to after a fuck with Hobie who, from his files, apparently just loved to edge you.

"No, you don't. Come here." Miguel lurched his arm around your waist, dragging you back onto his face. Ah! Your hand shot to his forearm, battling out with his upper body strength to push him off. You couldn’t. Miguel was too strong. He was going to make you cum.

Pressure welled up in your stomach, forming a blinding burst of pleasure that threatened to let go. You knew it was coming. You knew there was nothing you could do about it but let him force another orgasm out of your cunt, twirling his fingers against your sensitive bundle of nerves. In place of a sweet, soothing orgasm, hard pleasure ripped down your spine. It nearly hurt, forced out by his flicking tongue. Your legs tremored around his head, cupping him in place until you couldn’t give him any more of your sweet love.

“Miguel, Miguel please--” Warm tears pricked your cheeks, sliding down to your jaw. He kept his eye on you. Your skin was warm, mind dizzy, wracked with his complaints. “I didn't mean to lie to you. I promise. You-- you never asked.”

“Shut up,” Miguel forced your hips off his face with a sharp shove. Your hips bounced on the bed, a broken cry slipping from your lips at his abuse. He came for one thing, one thing only, and fuck more foreplay. Somedays he had the temperament for it. Today, with your daring admission that you had been fucking Hobie, he had none. "I don't want more pretty lies."

"They aren't lies," you bit out, scrambling underneath him, legs tightening shut. You just needed a moment to explain-- and if holding sex back would do it, you'd try. Miguel pulled himself free of his suit and pulled you back into place. Overstimulated tears pricked your eyes, "Miggy please-- Not yet--"

He looked down at you, eyes unfeeling, unreceptive to your pleas. His cock bobbed over the top of your vulva, thick and hard, dribbling with anticipation to replace Hobie’s cum with his. You bit hard on your lower lip, sucking your tongue over the loose cuts. “If you would have asked--”

“Since you’re so insatiable, you’re going to take this dick next,” Miguel gave a few lax jerks at the base, lining up his cock with your tense entrance. He felt you clench your walls, some piteous attempt to keep him out, to allow you to explain.

“I'm still sensitive, Miggy, please. Slow down, you're too big--”

“Think about this next time you fuck that punk.”

Despite your protests, Miguel pushed the head of his cock into your entrance. A moan wracked free from your lips. He knew it was your favorite part, the way he split you wide on his cock, pulling your walls apart. He bottomed out balls deep in your cunt, finally looking so full-- so full of Miguel after a long, arduous day of teasing him for just this. Your hand came to your stomach, buried so deep you swore you could feel him in your guts. Your lashes fluttered, recognizing that this Miguel-- this Miguel wasn’t the man you knew. Not the one who was cold out there, patient in your bedroom. Something snapped. You cracked him.

“¡Ay!” you exclaimed, then clamped your mouth shut. He wasn't going to accept any complaints. Miguel’s hands clasped over your lower ribs, the slide of tears down your soft cheeks biting your skin raw. “Miggy, Miggy.”

“After all that teasing today, you can’t take my dick?”

“You’re too-- you’re too thick.”

“Tragedy, you’ll have to take me anyway,” he mocked, sliding his forearm underneath your head to keep you stable. Your skin prickled, wanting to believe the closeness he forced was as much for you as him. Your hands came to his chest, bundling up his suit between your fingertips. You needed something to anchor to. Your legs bobbed around his hips as he drew his smooth thrusts into you. Long, punctuated sweeps of his cock filled the deepest parts of your body over and over, stretching your sweet cunt full of him. “What? Am I not enough?”

“No, you are! I just, I love him--” your legs pathetically clung to his hips, trying to force Miguel’s full, sweeping thrusts to slow. Between the two men, you would be sore the next morning. Love him-- the words earned an intensity of his thrusts that you could only try to slow down by squeezing your walls around him. All this time he thought it was him, his inability to bend to your every need when you wanted it done. Your whines drifted off, melding into sweet, gentle moans of approval with every deep swipe of his hips knocking into your cervix. Wet, sloppy kisses marked your neck-- and if you weren't mistaken, the soft tickle of his own tears. The sensation of his liquid need, the hiss of his breath, bounced against your neck. “I’m sorry.”

“You’re going to be.” His other hand jammed between your legs, flicking at your already pulsing clit once again. It hurt how badly you needed it. You pulsed over his dick, a flurry of frantic perdóname slipping free from your lips over and over, a disc stuck on repeat. Miguel’s moans ripped through the room, the desire for air a secondary thought. You never heard him so loud, so enraged, even earlier today.

You came, wet and sweet over his swollen dick, for the second time since he showed up. A fourth since Hobie was here. You couldn't breathe, pinned between his chest and the bed. Your thighs tremored piteously around him, searing with pleasurable heat. You accepted his last frantic thrusts, marked by a sharp grunt. His wet cum spilled into you, hips snapping to your core to ensure you took every last bit of his seed. You buried your head between pillows and his fist under your neck, tightening and loosening. Your head was thumping, sweat cloaking his suit. When Miguel was finally spent, he pulled free, gloops of cum slipping free along with him. He threw you a look, recording the memory of your ruined body in his mind.

“Miguel--” you reached out. Or tried to. He jerked to the edge of your fluffy bed, his hands wrangling sweat out of his long hair.

“Let's stop seeing each other."

Seconds passed before you could articulate the right words, watching his chest rise and fall with the tension. He fit himself back into his suit, throwing a glance over his muscular shoulders when you cried his name. For a moment, you didn’t know what to say. Only…

“I… I didn’t know you would care.”

He steeled himself to your words from the gentle touch of your fingers on his elbow, trying to reason with him to lay in bed. He wouldn’t. Not this time. You crawled over, trying again. Realistically, you held little hope that he'd let you touch him. Not if he was banishing you from his life. Optimistically, all he could do was throw you off again. You considered yourself lucky that he allowed your arms to slide about his waist and press your breasts against his rising and falling back.

“I did.” But he acted as though he didn't. The words felt small as if they didn't fit in your mouth. He cared. Miguel ran his hand down, then up his head again, exhaling a wilting breath. "Mira… let me go," he sighed, loathing the words on his tongue. He wasn't enough. He knew he wasn't. "I'm in the way."

"In the way? Miguel, you're never in my way."

You couldn't be this dull. Miguel loosened your hands around his waist, glancing toward Hobie's miscellaneous shoes at the foot of your bed. Your intermingled jewelry in ceramic little pots. Maybe he did see it. Maybe he wanted to ignore it, to convince you he was enough. Maybe he was the one that appeared every time you two were alone, not the other way around. And maybe he was the interloper.

"In Hobie's way. You can’t believe that he isn’t jealous.”

“Hobie doesn’t get jealous.”

“You're blind. Everyone gets jealous,” he scoffed. “Even him.”

“Even you?”

That shuts him up. You watched as he pushed himself off the bed, stretching out his neck and heading out your bedroom window. This time, you wouldn’t follow him to the lab, slink into his bed. This time, you knew he wouldn’t come back. It was better, this way, your lives playing out apart from one another. Some lives can't be pieced back together once their web breaks.

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ssahotchnerr · 9 months

Note

going in a babymoon with aaron 🥺 going to greece or somewhere else in europe for like months and documenting how ur bump changes over those months. u end up running out of clothes that fit bc u werent expecting ur bump to get so big 😭 and every month being like “baby is the size of ___!!!” and buying the fruit/vegetable to show aaron 😁

- 🍓

omg that is EVERYTHING cw; fem!reader, descriptions of pregnancy

UGH a babymoon with aaron 🥰🥰🥰 he'd be so so so sweet and even more attentive if it were possible - making sure you're hydrated, that you're getting your steps in, which is SO easy due to sight seeing and it's so exciting seeing new places!!! but he makes extra sure you're not overexerting yourself, insisting you sit and take a breaks here and there, and again, staying hydrated - the man has an extra water bottle on him at all times. and once you get back to the hotel, he's gently massaging your ankles and feet after a longgg day of walking 😭 and as the baby grows, it becomes a nightly ritual too because of your ankles swelling up, and aaron is more than happy to dote on you 🥺 you're doing all the hard work, so he'll help in any way he can <3

if you're nauseous :( aaron's more than willing to spend the day in the room with you <3 just laying in bed, giving you kisses, rubbing your belly gently and talking to the baby, saying sweet words and sometimes says something like "ease up on your mom please🥺" 😭😭 because you've just been in the bathroom all morning :( BUT you're literally not going to lift a finger on his watch. he fluffs your pillow, makes sure you're comfy in bed, draws the curtains if you need a break from the sun, makes sure the temperature of the hotel room is just right. and if you get nauseous while sight seeing :((( aaron pulls you to the side, finds a shady spot, and gives you some water - his eyes are full of concern and a tad touch of guilt - he feels bad because he wishes there was more he could do :((( because he greatly contributed to the newest member of the hotchner family, but yet you're the one dealing with the not-so-great parts of being pregnant :((( he gives you a second to see if it passes and if you feel alright/want to keep going, or if you prefer to go back to the hotel, that's perfectly okay too <3333

late night cravings? he'll run to the store if room service doesn't have what you want/is closed, regardless if he even knows where a store is due to being in a different county - he will find one 😭 AND!! before you even left for the babymoon, aaron does his research when it comes to restaurants, and makes an itinerary of places to go 😭 so you're getting all your necessary nutrients while away, what food options there are that you can eat while pregnant, etc..

finding out the gender while there too 🥰🥰🥰 hehe the two of you make a lil date night out of it - dressing up, a fancy dinner, and then finding a reallyyyy romantic place at sunset to open up that little card that has the baby's gender on it 🥰 or!!!! you find a local bakery and have them put blue or pink frosting inside 🥹🥹🥹

and after showing the fruit/veggie to show aaron once, just a cute - "hey look! this is the size of our baby :D" he has to download that app himself too for his phone - the one tells you what size fruit the baby is hehe 🤭 he'll consistently report the current size to you over breakfast <33333 he checks it like social media hehe <3

AND every month aaron insists on taking a polaroid of your baby bump progress 🥹🥺 hehe he loves comparing all the pics throughout the months and once the lil baby is a bit older - aka old enough to sit up hehe - he has them on their lap, and is showing them the pictures <3333 and tells them "that's you growing in momma's belly :D" 😭😭😭😭 and he takes sooo many pics of you sight seeing!!! hehe you have that pregnancy glow and he loves it, so he wants as many pics as he can get of you showing off that bump where your little one is growing <3333 so he'll show the baby those too!!! and tells them just look at all the places you've already been!!! while we were celebrating you!!! 🥰💓💞💕💓

#🍓anon #let's talk aaron <333333 #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner imagine #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds imagine #criminal minds #aaron hotchner x fem!reader #criminal minds fanfiction #aaron hotchner fluff

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mooodyblue · 5 months

Note

Lillyyyyy I just had an Idea, so what if when Elvis is filming his 68 comeback special he has to take the reader who is little with him and the colonel doesn’t like one bit of it so when Elvis is filming some back Tom Parker goes to his dressing room to pick on the reader and he says hurtful things to her like “you’re nothing but a gold digger” and other mean things to where she goes nonverbal and when Ep comes back into his dressing room he just sees the colonel picking with her hair ripping her drawing up and knocking everything she had over he even witnessed what the colonel told her. Ep barges in and starts yelling at the colonel and tells him to stay away from us but the colonel rolls his eyes and puts up an argument saying things like “she is distracting you! Can’t you see that, putting up this act. She’s acting like a full on baby.” You can finish the rest ❤️

ty for the request! this was super fun to write. i love writing anything that involves making the colonel out to be the most annoying man to ever exist 😈

pairing: 60s!elvis x little!gn!reader

wc: 1.5k

-> masterlist

you watched as elvis adjusted himself in his dressing room, dressed in black leather with his hair done up nicely. you knew how important this day was for him. he was beaming with nervousness and excitement and of course, you were as well. maybe too excited as you had gone down right before it was time to leave for nbc studios.

he didn’t mind if you were little, it didn’t bother him at all. you always understood that elvis has a job to do and that he can’t play with you every single second of the day—especially today of all days.

but again, you were so excited for him. you loved watching him get dressed in all the different outfits, performing his heart out just like he should have been doing all these years. today he’d be filming in front of an audience which you knew he was horrified about, thankfully the cuteness he had to endure from a little you helped ease his mind off his stress and anxieties.

he buttoned up his jacket, giving you a soft smile as he watched you doodle in a little notebook with your crayons, a messy bow in your hair from his attempt at doing your hair earlier that morning. elvis crouched down at the table, looking down at the notebook. “you're so talented, honey.” he grinned. “you gonna draw somethin’ for me for when i get out? a nice lil’ reward for daddy's hard work?” he teased, pinching your cheek as you let out a soft squeal.

you nodded excitedly, “mhm!” you grinned. “‘m gonna draw daddy!”

he let out a gasp, “really!” he placed a kiss onto your scalp, ruffling your hair a bit before standing up. “you make me look real good, baby. alright? i wanna see it when i finish up here.”

“okay, daddy!” you nodded, “good luck!”

─── ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ ───

you kept to yourself, music booming from outside his dressing room. you hummed and rocked to his voice as you continued to draw, making sure your drawing of elvis was as perfect as he hoped for.

the faint sound of a door opening and closing filled your ears, followed up with the tapping of a cane. you lifted your head, looking at the larger and older man in front of you.

now, you were well aware of how his manager strongly disapproved of you. but elvis never cared, it was his personal life–not the colonel's. he did make you nervous though, he didn't understand you being an age regressor. he didnt understand why you felt the need to act like a toddler, being helpless at your big age.

you gulped looking up at him, watching how he hovered over you and looked at the array of crayons, markers and at the little gear you had around you. elvis brought along your sippy cup and a paci, as well as a few coloring books and toys to keep you entertained until he finished up with filming for the day.

“look at all this junk, this garbage.” the colonel spat, pointing at the table with his cane.

you sat there silently, trying to keep your mouth shut just like elvis told you. you held your head down, going back to your drawing.

he wasn't having it, scoffing at you and shaking his head. “you're a grown person, wearing bows in your hair and coloring like a toddler.” he shook his head. “you're dating elvis presley and this is what you choose to do in your free time?”

“he still loves me.” you muttered.

his cane met with your drawing, creating a circular stain of dirt right in the middle of the paper. “you're nothin’ but a gold diggin’ freak who acts like a baby to get what they want. now i demand you get up from this floor and go out there and support the man you supposedly love.” he said sternly.

you looked up at him, tears in your eyes. he ruined your pretty drawing for elvis. if he wanted you out in the audience so badly, he would have asked. but he didn't, you were staying out of his way just as he wished. you certainly weren't a gold digger either. you didn't ask elvis to buy you nice things, it's just what he did. he didn't know what no meant, he did it out of the kindness of his heart and his love for you.

words were formed in your brain to spit back at the old man in front of you, but nothing could come out. you had an ashamed look on your face, glancing down at the now-ruined drawing that sat on the table.

“are you listening?” he asked, stomping his cane again. “get up!”

you shook your head and stayed in your spot, refusing to get up for the colonel. but enough was enough for him, he ripped out the pretty bow that elvis had put in your hair just for you and stuck his cane under your arm, trying to force you up. that alone stood you up, cheeks now stained with tears as he picked up your drawing, ripping it in half in front of your very own eyes.

outside the dressing room, there were loud cheers—the music finally coming to an end. maybe that meant elvis was coming back.

foot steps were approaching, the sound of leather rubbing as he walked and laughter got closer and closer–finally coming to a halt once the door was opened. there stood elvis, turning his head to look at the scene in front of him.

he couldn’t believe what he was seeing, his face turned red with anger. “now, what in the goddamn hell are you doin’?!” he shouted, storming in and pushing his manager away. “you putin’ your hands on my baby? or am i just imagining things, huh?”

the colonel stumbled back, scoffing again and shaking his head. “this child of yours has been nothing but a distraction!” he argued. “they’re doing nothing for you except sitting back here playing with toys all while you do the hard work. can’t you see you’re being used?”

“the hell i am!” he yelled, “what i do with them and what they do in their own time ain’t nobodies business but mine and theirs. not you.” he pointed his finger angrily at parker, his eyes full of anger and fury.

“mr. presley, i will not stand here and watch them put on such an embarassing act for you. they’re acting like a baby! can’t you see the problem here?”

“oh, i can see a problem alright.” elvis spat, putting his hands on his hips. he turned his head to you, looking at the sad look on your face. his heart broke seeing what that awful manager of his did to you, your hair ruined and the drawing he was so excited to see now torn apart on the floor. he walked over to you, rubbing your back as the colonel stood there still disgusted by the look of you.

“you alright, baby?” he cooed, trying to calm you down. “what did that mean man do to my baby, hm?” you didn’t respond, instead burying your face in his neck as you let out a soft whine. he could tell when you couldn’t speak. one of your ways of dealing with stressful situations, especially when they happen so sudden, was to become unable to speak. he never pressured you to say a single word if you didn’t want to.

however, it angered him that you were bullied to the point of going nonverbal. he wasn’t going to stand for that. the pretty little face he saw before heading on stage looked so broken, he wanted that version of you back.

he stepped up to his manager, getting right in his face. “i ain’t afraid of you.” he said lowly. “you stay the hell away from them. if i see you lay even a finger on them, you’ll pay. i’ll make sure of it.” he took a deep breath, looking back at you then at him. “get the hell out of my dressin’ room.”

it was clear he wanted to argue more, but he left with a scowl on his face—making his way out of the dressing room and slamming the door behind him.

elvis sighed, turning to look at you before pulling you in for a hug. you sobbed on his shoulder, holding him tightly and never wanting to let go. “i know, baby.” he rubbed at your back again, cooing softly in your ear. “i’m sorry, honey. i’m so sorry.” he pulled away, pressing his lips against your forehead with a soft smile. “lets see that lil’ picture you drew for me.”

your eyes darted to the ripped-up drawing on the floor, a pout on your face as he walked over to pick it up. “nah, we can save it!”

he put the ripped-up pieces together in front of his face, grinning widely. “see! look at that. you’re so talented, baby!” it was just a mere drawing of a stick figure, a poor attempt at drawing a white suit on white paper on the said figure. but in his eyes, it was the best thing he had ever seen.

#elvis x reader

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teabreakpancakes · 1 year

Note

omg okay so could you maybe write headcanons/a scenario for victor, naib, eli, and norton where the reader takes on a motherly role to the little girl? where she like adopts the reader as her mom! maybe a lil bit of robbie in there too if you want ^w^

The Traits Of A Mother Victor, Naib, Eli and Norton with a Motherly GN S/O

Genre: Fluff

𝐕𝐈𝐂𝐓𝐎𝐑 𝐆𝐑𝐀𝐍𝐓𝐙

you handle kids so well, he thinks it's so charming

you're the entire package, you can even cook well !

it's funny because you, weirdly enough, fuss over the hunters as well

"Mr. Hastur! please stay for a while, you must be tired after your match, please have some of this stew that I made, I hope it's to your taste" you offered, pulling him by his sleeve towards the large couch made for hunters. The Eldritch god didn't dare oppose, knowing you only wished to aid him in feeling well. Though, he couldn't say the same for the survivors gawking at you, their faces said it all, 'You idiot! he can kill you with one swipe and you still decide to go near him?!?!'—admittedly, he found it odd as well, but it's not like you allowed any of them—yes, them to refuse.

everyone either sees you as wifey material, a parent figure, or an older sibling: he just thought you were a parent figure to most people

𝐍𝐀𝐈𝐁 𝐒𝐔𝐁𝐄𝐃𝐀𝐑

he finds it endearing, yet amusing at the same time

you remind him of his mother when you fret over him and everyone else, except you're a version that came from heaven itself

he loves it when you cook for him

you cook a LOT for him, knowing his appetite

imagine seeing a survivor telling off a hunter because they didn't finish their food, rather bizarre don't you think? he won't say that out loud though

Naib stifled his laughter behind his closed fist, eyes fixated on the scene of you forcefully spoon-feeding Mary carrots. "I don't care if you were a high ranking noble previously or if you're older than me! that does not mean you are dismissed from eating vegetables just because you dislike them" you berated the hunter, handing her a cup of water. Mary hesitantly chewed the carrot, imaginary tears in the corners of her eyes as she fought the urge to throw up. "Don't worry, I'll give you your favourite dessert if you manage to finish your vegetables" you comforted, smiling at her.

everyone either sees you as wifey material, a parent figure, or an older sibling: mf just didn't care much abt you until you began to dote on him as well

𝐄𝐋𝐈 𝐂𝐋𝐀𝐑𝐊

he thinks it's lovely !

he rlly wants a family with you :((

his brainrot is finally having one with you

eli often assists you in caring for the kids, especially robbie; the hunter is a bit cheeky and hard to handle, similar to other kids his age

"Eli! hand me a towel, Robbie is dripping water all over the carpet!" you hollered, running around frantically in search for "Memory", the other child that so graciously decided to join the little undead boy in playing in rain. Eli could only smile fondly as he wrapped the towel around the hunter, "They're losing their head again" he joked, drawing out amused giggles from the hunter. Eli guided towel-clad Robbie towards the bathroom, looking back once more to see you carrying a towel-covered "Memory".

everyone either sees you as wifey material, a parent figure, or an older sibling—he "saw" you as his one and only

𝐍𝐎𝐑𝐓𝐎𝐍 𝐂𝐀𝐌𝐏𝐁𝐄𝐋𝐋

you're so sweet to kids and yet you nag him like his own mother

"¿Mi madre resucitó de entre los muertos?" (Did my mother rise from the dead?) Norton deadpanned, nearly regretting his decision of baiting the hunter away so his team would be able to open the exit gate. "You really need to be more careful, what if the dungeon hadn't been in the area—the hunter had detention for 50 more seconds!" you rebuked incessantly, Norton wished to tell you that he'd prefer to kite a hunter with detention just to hear you worry about him but he wished to be able to eat your cooking so he didn't proceed ^^;

he can't help but smile when he sees you take care of little girl or robbie

everyone either sees you as wifey material, a parent figure, or an older sibling—he thought his mother sent you to him as her replacement

#lawless.writes #idv.writing #idv x gn reader #idv x reader #identity v x reader #idv victor grantz x reader #idv victor x reader #idv naib x reader #idv mercenary x reader #idv eli clark x reader #idv postman x reader #idv seer x reader #idv norton x reader #idv prospector x reader #idv scenarios #idv fluff

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egginfroggin · 27 days

Note

Imagine...

Emmet is transported to Hisui.

He became five or six years old.

When he comes back, Ingo learns that he will now become a father.

Extremely late answer, sorry, Anon.

I feel that Arceus would get punched by a very irate Subway Boss in that scenario, I love it.

This has spawned many words in the master document, as my brain has decided to positively gnaw on this idea, and alas, nothing is finished yet, so have a bit of worldbuilding and some drawings in the meantime.

Worldbuilding and close-ups under the cut, and please click on the images for better quality.

And again, thank you so much for the ask, Anon, this was really fun! ^^

Pencil sketches:

first doodle of the Little Guy

height comparisons to further emphasize the "Little" part of the Little Guy

a) Akari and Rei making the mistake of turning their backs on Emmet for 0.5 seconds as he notices something off-camera b) the twins continuing to talk, oblivious to Emmet's act of absconding c) the twins turning around to talk to their teeny charge d) swift baseball bat of Realization at the Emmet-shaped absence in their immediate vicinity

Pen sketches (part of a page of sketches that were otherwise unrelated, hence the numbering):

3. a very happy lil man, despite the oversized hat 4. he skrungle scribble 5. who's he looking at? who knows

Digital art:

Emmet craves violence. Akari and Rei are used to this (featuring: probably the best expressions I've ever drawn)

he's a bit older now, but still smaller than his evolved starter; Typhlosion can tell his soul is older, but he is physically small, so she abuses his lack of height to shower him in affection

an internal mess of conflicting instincts, thoughts, and emotional maturity, but Arceus's plan is set in motion, and there's nothing Emmet can do about it

Worldbuilding:

Emmet got shrunk on his way to Hisui, due to the Rift's distorted power affecting him on the way out; he lands on Prelude Beach, drowning in his Depot Agent uniform now that he is teeny tiny

Arceus, panicking a little bit, communicates more directly with Emmet, urging him along on his mission

Emmet's memories are messed up, and his conduct is an odd combination of a child and an adult. By which I mean he can be disconcertingly clever and mature, but also the poutiest little guy with a habit of crying

Young age plus being overwhelmed plus stress equals one mute boi; this does not change his penchant for causing Problems

Jubilife is a lot more lenient with him because of how young he is, but Laventon, Cyllene, and Kamado suspect that he isn't supposed to be like this due to how he was found

Emmet is in an awkward position as far as finding living conditions go, being too odd for most parents to want to take in but also much too young to live on his own

Akari and Rei are assigned babysitters. Let the stressing and development of gray hairs commence

Emmet is Perfectly Behaved and causes no Problems at all, of course, why would he? Why would he?

(He bolts for the gates the moment Akari opens the door in the morning) (Ress caught him)

After sending Emmet home, Arceus shortly feels a distinct feeling of being in danger

After finding out that his brother has been shrunk and not fixed, Ingo fixes metaphorical (and perhaps literal) crosshairs on the back of Arceus's head

Arceus may be in danger

Close-ups of the digital art:

(Program used for the digital sketches: Krita; time taken: about 90 minutes)

Thank you for reading all of this! I hope you have a wonderful, blessed day. :>

#asks #anon asks #eggin's writings #eggin creatin'#submas #subway boss emmet #subway boss ingo #trainer rei #pla akari #wtst #best of intentions au #yeah that's right I'm giving it a tag #just so I can keep all the miscellaneous stuff together though #someone help these teenagers #and emmet for that matter #thank you again anon!#sorry this took so long to respond to

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asingleietsist · 8 months

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"A Green Queen" AU

Chapter VIII

TW: Discussion of Self-ham

A few hours passed as the two discussed various agreements, commerce deals, supply exchanges, and of course the Grand Peace Flair Ball. Luigi sat on the side next to Kamek, taking notes as the MagiKoopa guided him and kept him up to pace with the conversation. He had chimmed in a few times to give his thoughts on certain guard stations or small reminders of past agreements King Totomesu had stood by. He felt a sense of distance every time the Prince or Bowser shut him down on ideas, but chalked it up to them having more experience. Kamek also reassured him each time that he was doing fine and gave a small pat on his back for comfort. They had broken conversation a few times to eat and rehydrate before they talked on end again.

And as the night fell, they had finally completed their discussion. Prince Khufo cheered and bound off to the kitchen to check on their nightly meals. Kamek, also took this opportunity to check the older scrolls for new spells and remedies for the Koopalings.

The King, however, was at the edge of the balcony looking up at the stars and humming to himself, he was ready to leave, but too tired to go too far into the palace.

Luigi fixed his papers carefully and placed a little gold slate paperweight on top, so they didn't fly off as the breeze kicked in. He stood up, hair flowed slightly, as he watched as Bowser's head turned to follow a certain passing star that shot by.

He walked over with a chair and sat down beside him, still keeping a bit of distance between them. "They're pretty... D-Do you like watching shooting stars?"

"Yeah... I usually watched them with the little ones, but I doubt we would've made it back in time to see them together.. You should see their little eyes light up when they..."

The large koopa's words trailed off as he noticed Luigi's galaxy blue eyes shimmered, eager to hear him talk fondly about his hatchlings.

"That's sweet of you... They could be watching right now. If that makes you feel any better.."

'Why does it matter what he thinks? You're just-'

"Hah! You underestimate their attention span. Ludwig is probably telling Iggy to stop trying to replicate star patterns with his bombs. And Lemmy is most likely drawing silly faces on their shells when they're distracted, speedy lil champ!" He exclaimed. "Wendy won't be so pleased, once she finds out though, she's not afraid to tackle any of them down and nip at them."

Luigi looked at him mortified. "That sounds...greaatttt.... Um.. Did they all come from the same.."

"No, you've asked before"

"When you nearly severed my arm off?"

"Hey! I apologized!", The large lizard huffed. His arms now crossed on the ledge.

Luigi chuckled a bit, "Uh huh.. What an amazing apology."

"You're damned right it was!", Bowser grinned.

Luigi snickered and rolled his eyes, enjoying the King's confidence. Bowser smiled a bit seeing the Queen's enjoyment and continued.

"I'd found most of their eggs on islands or in dense territory I had conquered. Most Koopas my size will abandon eggs once most of the clutch hatch out.", He huffed and gazed back up at the stars. "Yeah, some of them were a hassle to raise, still are, but I'd caused the entire universe to quake in fear if any of them got hurt.", He chuckled at his own comment.

Luigi eyes lifted slightly as he saw the King's gaze softened. "I raised them myself and even though they drive me insane sometimes; they're family to Junior.."

'Just Junior?'

"What about you? Aren't they your family just as much as they are Junior's?"

Bowser gave a low growl causing Luigi to stiffen.

"N-Nevermind.."

The two stayed gazing at the show, Luigi sighed and started to think about when he and Mario would watch the sky with Peach and Toad.

They shared food and witty jokes about their adventures. The countless of times they had saved or helped the kingdom and allies. It had become a second home to Mario and himself. He always felt some sort of peace being with Mario and wished he had some way to contact his brother outside of the contractual agreement.

The agreement.

In light of the situation, the dreamy atmosphere, the cool breeze. Luigi had forgotten that all of this was temporary.

He was a queen to his enemies and all of it was his fault. He agreed to be Bowser's bride, strictly married to the koopa next to him by circumstance of he and his brother's plans. Despite it being his karma, he still missed Mario, and trembled realizing the passage of time.

A light sense of pain hit his arm again but it stopped as Bowser's claw quickly removed his hand from digging into it.

"Why do you keep doing that?!", he yelled.

"It's nothing! Let go!"

"Greenie"

"I said let go! I'm fine!"

" You're not fine! Just let me see and-"

"Thank you for your concern, but I'm FINE."

Bowser's nose flared at his tone and his claw tightened around his hand slightly.

"You know you're REALLY stubborn!"

"I learned from the best...", Luigi muttered.

Bowser growled deeply, "What'sTHAT supposed to mean!". His grip tightened around Luigi's hand more as his pupils slitted and were locked on him.

Luigi winced from the pain breathing heavily then looked away shaking.

Bowser growled then roared briefly as he let go.

Luigi checked his hand for injury, only to see light bruises on the sides of his wrist. He let out a sigh of relief as he massaged them, then looked over at his captor.

Bowser sighed, his tail swayed violently as he tried to cool off. " Why can't you just talk?"

"You ask me to shut up every other time.", He muttered.

"I-", he turned around to object, but couldn't retaliate. "That's usually because you've said something stupid and you know that's not what I meant, when it comes to that."

He lightly tapped a finger on Luigi's right arm.

"I... You caused this."

The King's head tilted in confusion. "But I said-"

"I know... And I'm glad, but it doesn't erase it immediately. It still hurts me. YOU still harmed me! I want to forgive you, but every time I think I understand I begin to blame myself for not thinking about why I'm here and that all of THIS could've been avoided."

Tears swelled in his eyes the more he went on, only to be met with Bowser's perplexed expression.

"As far back as the wedding, I've just been replaying it over and over! If I didn't let my disguise slip or if I hadn't agreed to be here or if I hadn't bothered you that night! I wouldn't have gotten hurt, I wouldn't have these fucking nightmares!"

Luigi's streams of tears blurred his vision, he was regretting every ounce of information he was telling him. He didn't even bother to look over at the Koopa and kept his eyes on the stars as they reflected in his tears slightly.

Bowser blinked, he watched the small man's body shake and hiccup from crying. He reached over slightly with his claw about to say something then retracted, before getting up to leave.

Luigi sniffled as he covered his face with his hands and slowly slid them back into his hair. A light breeze made him shiver, but they didn't stop the quiet crying.

'Why did I do that... He doesn't care! Get a grip, Luigi!'

Half an hour had gone by and Luigi had rested his chin on his uninjured arm to calm down.

His pink eyes gazed out at the palace fountains and the desert beyond the gates.

Dried snot flaked on his mustache and he didn't bother to try and look for Bowser or call for Spotty once his tears stopped flowing.

Purely out of embarrassment.

As he closed his eyes, he heard claws clank against the tiles, and a mild quake rattled his chair.

He felt a warm sheet embrace him only to open his eyes and see Bowser removing a lid from a small dish with an aroma of hefty spices leaving the plate. He gestured towards his face with some wipes he'd brought back, almost ordering him to take it.

Luigi nodded and took a few to wipe off his face and 'stache, being careful of his eyes and lips. When he finished, he glanced behind him to see the blanket placed over his shoulders. A simple black velvety sheet with Bowser's emblem on it, he sighed looking at it then turned his attention to the food Bowser brought.

He hadn't said a word about his outburst and was a bit ashamed to ask, "I'm s-sorry about all of that!", Luigi laughed. "Just forget I said-"

Before he could finish, Bowser slipped food into his mouth with a spoon. As Luigi began to chew, his face lit up tasting a familiar fruit he hadn't had in a while, tomatoes.

Despite the pleasant surprise he looked up at the King confused.

"You talk too much."

".....Not usually..", he swallowed.

"You also cry worse than a hatchling."

Luigi sighed, "Probably..."

Bowser looked down at him, "So you hurt yourself because of me?"

Luigi didn't say anything nor did he move in response to his comment. He stayed staring at the stars, the blanket covering his shoulders.

Bowser hummed, understanding to not press further for now, and asked if he wanted to just eat.

Luigi nodded, his face flushed as he slightly opened his mouth for another spoonful.

Bowser's tail slowly swung as he fed him again and looked up towards the heavens. He wanted to know more about this self inflicted harm, if he could for a moment, stop the pain as quickly as each star shot above. A pit of guilt growing in his stomach, as brief as the streaks of silver, luminescent, and ever fleeting.

Spotty stepped onto the balcony and stared at the two, "Your highness. The Prince has found intruders in the palace and is requesting your...and the Queen's presence immediately."

Luigi groaned a bit and slightly stood up. His knees shaking as the crying has caused a small headache to form, making him feel dizzy.

Bowser caught him carefully and growled, "Fine, but tell him I'll be taking the Queen back to his room for the night."

"But-", Luigi stammered.

"No. You are going to rest. That's an order."

"....."

Spotty bowed, "Yes, your highness".

Bowser glanced down at Luigi and puffed, "Do you mind if I carry you?"

He shook his head slowly, not wanting to worsen his head ache. "Just...really slowly. My head is spinning.", he gasped.

Bowser nodded and gently slipped his claws under the Queen's thighs. He made sure to avoid digging his nails into the pants, despite wanting to playfully poke at Luigi's soft skin.

Luigi kept close to the koopa's chest, hearing a slow thump thump coming from his shell. He listened to its shallow rhythm and closed his eyes as Bowser carried him down the hall.

Prince Khufo yawned as he stepped down the torch-lit stairwell. His wings opened greatly as he darted down the stairs dramatically, causing the once sunset shimmering flames to blaze ocean blue.

At the bottom, he stepped into a sandstone hall, filled with nearly empty cells, holding long gone dry bones, goombas, and deserted, torn shy guy uniforms. The Prince padded past each cell with a cheeky grin and as he approached the last two his eyes lit up.

"Oh, what a treat! Thinking you could get in here unannounced? And why.. not even a single letter either. We're not plebians yknow..", he pouted.

He held one of the torches closer to the cell and the light shined onto a cloak, covering his captives face.

"Nothing? Really? Hmph, suit yourself. Maybe the Koopa King will have more fun with you and your little band of outcasts. It'll sure be quite the show~", he giggled.

#a green queen bowuigi fanfic #a green queen au #luigi #bowuigi #bowser x luigi #bowser #super mario bros #super mario #bowuigi fanfiction #luigi x bowser

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4suitedplayingcard · 1 month

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Various Punch Out Headcanons I have that I felt the need to share or else my brain would explode :p

All of the boxers (who didn't originally live in New York) pretty much just live in hell NY now cuz of their boxing career. They do visit their families during vacation and all that, but for the most part, they just stay in New York.

Piston Hondo finds it hard to make friends with people who are around the same age as him and younger because he finds them harder to understand/relate to (and also a bit more judgemental), so he mostly hangs out w/ people who are much older than him, with the only exception being Great Tiger.

King Hippo thinks that most beds are uncomfortable and will sleep pretty much anywhere except on a bed. On the floor, the couch, a pile of leaves, a comically small pillow, etc etc.

Aran Ryan has a bad habit of eating non edible objects out of intrusive thinking (and also spite sometimes), he's eaten things ranging from twigs to hand sanitizer to cigarette butts and has been sent to the hospital a couple of times because of it.

Don Flamenco is obsessed with skincare, mostly due to the fact that he looks like a middle aged man with his toupee off. The second he gets his paycheck, he immediately spends most of it on various scrubs and lotions. He even almost went bankrupt on numerous occasions because of it

Bear Hugger had been friends with Ms. Bear even since he was 12 years old. He found her all alone in the forest on a snowy day when she was a baby and his parents agreed to keep her until they find her a new home (which obviously didn't work out)

Super Macho Man is a nepo baby. His mother was a movie actor while his father was also a heavyweight boxer, which caused him to get a lot of attention from not only his peers at school, but also media outlets too.

Glass Joe has terrible eyesight and mostly uses contact lenses wherever he goes, though he does occasionally wear glasses sometimes (mostly at home or whenever he's run out of contacts).

Bald Bull is VERY reluctant to touch, even the slightest little bump in can cause him to flip out. He only makes this exception to people who are super close to him, but even then, he doesn't want any physical contact for too long or he’ll start to lose it.

Even though Von Kaiser wasn't actually apart of a war, he was enrolled in a boot camp for a few years of his life. It was hell and he still has nightmares about it to this day…

No matter how much sleep he gets, Great Tiger usually ends up sleepy at some point during the day. He's tried every to get him to sleep better, drinking warm milk, staying away from electronics an hour before bed, taking melatonin, but he still ends up tired in the middle of the day sometimes and it drives him mad.

Y'know those scientist that you see in Soda Popinski’s title defense slideshow? Well those are kind of his dads. He was left on the doorsteps of a lab when he was a baby, and all of the people in the facility have been taking care of him ever since.

Disco Kid has a brother a few months younger than him who used to be the boxer known as Kid Quick. They both started Boxing at around 18, but Kid Quick ended up quitting early in his career to focus on something more mundane. (Yea ik I made a lil shitpost drawing a few weeks ago about Kid Quick being pre-transition Disco Kid but shhhh-)

Mr. Sandman is the only boxer in the entire organization that's not only married, but also has a kid. He has a wife named Alena and a daughter named Chelsea, they all live with Sandman in NYC. :)

#theres like 2 of these which are just me projecting and i h8 it lol #punch out #punch out!!#glass joe #von kaiser #disco kid #king hippo #piston hondo #bear hugger #great tiger #don flamenco #aran ryan #soda popinski #bald bull #super macho man #mr sandman #ace.txt

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nayialovecat · 8 months

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The Ink Demonth 2023 - Day 6. Machine

Day 6. Machine Crossover: Scooby-Doo, Where Are You? (and later series) "Scooby-Dooby-Doo, where are you? We got some work to do now. Scooby-Dooby-Doo, where are you? We need some help from you now." I cannot wait for the scene when they take Sammy's mask off :3 I'd watch an episode like that. Btw. in case anyone is wondering, Shaggy checks whether bacon soups are 20 or 50 years after expired, because it depends on whether he decides to heat them before eating or not :D

Am I a fan of Scooby-Doo? Well... yes and no. As a little kid, I loved the show, I even had VHS tapes of the episodes... But then my lil brother got hooked on it and watched it so obsessively that I hated the whole show (especially since his favourite was that damn Scrapy-Doo, so he was tormenting me episodes with him, and Scooby-Doom, the other son of the b*ch, which I hate). However, I still enjoyed the full-length movies, and to this day I still enjoy watching some of them (for example: "Scooby-Doo! and the Reluctant Werewolf" or "Scooby-Doo! in Where's My Mummy?..." by the way, the former was made in the year of my birth, so he's older than me, yay!) But then came the era of weird Scooby-Doo series that delighted me again and stole my heart, like "Shaggy & Scooby-Doo Get a Clue!", "Scooby-Doo! Mystery Incorporated" or crazy one "Be Cool, Scooby-Doo!" (I love self-ironical, self-parodying shows). So... yeah, I guess I'm a Scooby Doo fan now. What's more, I will now say something that will probably make some people hate me: I like the "scandalous" show "Velma". Uuuu! Everyone will stop following me now, what a drama.

I have to admit that I had fun - although it was probably one of the most difficult Ink Demonths so far (counting the future ones I've already drawn). Scooby-Doo is damn hard to draw, because he has very caricatured features while having quite a dog's build, and when broken down into simple shapes, he's... just plain ugly to draw. Shaggy was a bit of a challenge, but it was a real pleasure to draw Velma. By the way, these two are my favourite characters - and I ship them in their youth (in their mature life, I prefer Shaggy with that cool alien from one of the movies). I used, of course, the background from BATIM - and choosing the right one and then framing it the best took me a lot of time and frustration too. I originally wanted a setting from the first chapter, but nothing looked right with the characters on it. I finally made it to the second chapter - and I think it turned out really nice. However, I am extremely proud of how cans turned out, the expiration date of which is checked by Shaggy.

If anyone doesn't understand why this entry is for "machine" theme, let me remind you that the Gang drove a cool, colourful van called... that's right! The Mystery Machine! If you didn't know that, you can't consider yourself a Scooby-Doo fan :D

Bendy and the Ink Machine (c) Joey Drew Studios Inc. Scooby-Doo, Where Are You? (c) Hanna-Barbera Sammy and the Ink Machine (c) Nayia Lovecat

#The Ink Demonth #Bendy and the Ink Machine #Sammy and the Ink Machine #BATIM #SATIM #Scooby-Doo Where Are You?#Scooby-Doo #Shaggy Rogers #Velma Dinkley #Fred Jones #Daphne Blake #Mystery Incorporated #The Mystery Machine #Bendy #Ink Bendy #Ink Demon #The Ink Demonth 2023 #crossover

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reeddotcom · 8 months

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[TCSM] Johnny x Reader P.2

➢ Normal on the Outside

summary: just like in the TCSM game, you've woken up in the sawyer household and need to survive against whatever odds come your way. escaping with your friends is deal, though you may or may not have gotten some help along the way. (gender neutral, self-insert)

warnings: blood, minor violence, suggested gore (but honestly nothing 2 cray oops)

a/n: second part whewwwwww!! pls enjoy

There's a distinct cleanliness to the linens underneath your hands as opposed to the rest of... well, everything that had established the house of horrors beyond the walls and foundation. They lacked the warmth of a body sleeping in it recently but there's no sign of blood or distress in the rosé flowers that pattern fabric squeezed between your palms. As such, you don't sensel any immediate danger within your circumstances or feel the need to pull out the bone scalpel that was tucked within one of your pockets; retrieved from the basement and yet to be used, much to your relief. Your body twists, turning to face Johnny as he towers over you with a looming ambiguity that's hard to discern from such hardened features. Did he always have blood on his face?

It splattered downwards, trickling over the man's forehead and across gauntly cheeks until the same fluids amassed over his clothes, plastered against the sleeveless shirt that detailed his defined structure. The blood merely looked like oil stains glistening in the right light as he took another step forward. You should've closed your legs before another step was taken, as now you two are tangled; Johnny crouching down in front of you with a predacious haste that'd bring any and all of your movements to a pause.

Even your breath hitches with how close you two are in that moment. You can see all of the older scars embedded into Johnny's skin, as well as the freshness of the blood that still samples crimson undertones; it's lack of runniness from how thin it spread across his features. Meeting with the hazel hues that are staring directly back at you comes eventually, if it wasn't for the man's voice catching your attention after extended silence.

"If it's any consolation... their death was quick."

Whose? He sees a change in your expression, regardless if it were fear, confusion, sadness. Garnering a reaction in general brings a smile back to the man's face, "Don't know her name. Orange hair, bumpkin-" Connie. Her face flickers in your mind, momentarily tuning out Johnny's words as various versions of her fate shuffle through your thoughts with the world's most violent deck of cards. Her maker could've been the very knife Johnny was holding, aimed lazily towards your stomach as his elbow rested over one knee, the other touched to the ground beside your thigh. He doesn't seem to have any intention to use it right now as his grip looks rather loose, but... whether or not that's a disappointment is yet to be determined.

"Anyway, it was the only way that you and I..." You spoke too soon. As that thick accent draws out Johnny's words, the knife was brought up to touch right beneath your chin; a means of reassuring eye-contact had you been a bit nervous, "... Could be together."

He says it so innocently, losing tension that creased between darkened eyebrows as the admission was made. "You see," But he doesn't give you much of a chance to respond, let alone digest such weighted statements. Everything about Johnny overwhelms all your senses with or without trying, "I watched your lil friend group as you guys came up in here. Yeah, watched you good.." The mix of smells weaved between you two left a bittersweet taste behind your lips. Bodily fluids, cheap cologne, pungency, "And y'know, my family- Grandpa mostly and.. well, you've heard my sister earlier too, I think-" Downstairs, she was the one that said Johnny's name, you assume, "They don't take kindly to surprise visits. I gotta agree with them, honestly."

The coldness of the knife slips out from beneath an angled chin, steadily turning over to press flat steel against your cheek, sharp-tip close to the corner of your mouth. Thankfully none of the leftover residue on the weapon touches any skin, "Unless.. they look like you."

Johnny's gaze descends far past your countenance, taking in what you can only assume are certain characteristics, maybe a distinctive part about you that's been commented on before, good or bad. Intentions were still unclear and assuming such animalistic tendencies were a compliment had the potential to be dangerous, "Yeah, you put up a fight. Don't remember?" Whatever was underneath your fingertips had been suddenly replaced with the distant feeling of a memory; a tingling that came with phantom movements, unable to attach to anywhere or anything. Before the basement, you were... in Leland's van. His tape-deck speakers were so shitty that the song's tune was hardly distinguishable, at least not over Ana's voice as she talked about the place you guys were going—here, where Maria was last seen, as you know now. Memories dribble in but the feeling of cool steel lifting from your face draws you back into reality; Johnny's eyes waiting for that focused look to return.

He points the knife towards where thoughts and feelings were swallowed down, at the bottom of your throat. "Friends put up a good fight too but I couldn't control what happened to 'em, not when I was so focused on you." The sharpened tip barely pricks the medial of your sternum. In terms of mixed signals, your nerves don't know which alarms to set off, "Pretty little thing. Grew fond of ya while tyin' you up, and now..."

Even if the words didn't necessarily fit, there's a part of you that feels as if the praise is genuine with the way it rolls off southern tongue. Johnny was disarming you. And to say it worked was dependent on where the sudden spark of a flame was lighting inside of you.

".. I get you all to myself."

Under the current circumstances, the average individual would most likely experience fear, despair; feeling the warmth in their face as cheeks washed out into a ghostly pale. Johnny had a certain charm about him that swayed the apprehensions knotting in your stomach though, churning it in a way that was confusing, but comforting in a sense. He could read through all of it by the way your body never recoiled away from his.

The two of you obviously shared something, whether that was a strange one-sided romance that this killer had decided for the both of you while you were unconscious or some fucked up version of Stockholm syndrome. There was also the chance you legitimately thought there was some goodness in the voice lulling you into a daze; clemency behind the gloved hand now reaching for your face, index behind the ear, thumb on your temple. Being starved of touch wasn't anything to be embarrassed about, and neither was potentially hooking up with the man whose muscles looked like they'd tear you apart had you asked nicely. Who knows, death was around every corner. Only you knew what you wanted.

Johnny could only assume, taking the lack of resistance as an answer in itself and deciding to indulge in the needs that swelled beneath the surface. Some were more obvious than others had your eyes wandered, but as Johnny breaches what little distance was already between you two, eyes flickering shut, your body feels inclined to mirror the bizarre show of affection. What was one kiss? If it saved your life, c'est la vie. You could feel the knife retract with the closer you two got, allowing you one last deep breath before the very moment Johnny seemed eager for since the start.

That is, until it's ruined. Not by you, but an ear-piercing scream that swallows the entire mood of the room; feminine-sounding, though you're able to discern that it isn't Julie or Ana. Johnny seems to be more put-off by it than anything, displaying as much in an obvious show of frustration—balled up fists and a scowl that dragged rugged features down. He quickly stands to his feet but doesn't say a word; the harsh gesture of an open-palm to your face saying what words couldn't. Be quiet. It could've been worse, so you comply.

"I can only find four of their bodies," The voice cried out. You're safe to assume this is Johnny's sister again from the sounds of it, "And I know that other rat is here, somewhere."

"Relax- relax, relax," Another lower-toned voice responded, spiratic and less confident than the one before, "Johnny's probably on top of it. Haven't seen him in a while but-"

The two of you share a look.

"Johnny's useless. If Grandpa was still able then this would've been over by now."

Whimpers from the softer voice trail after such crude words, painting a picture of a family dynamic here that you felt as if you had no business being a part of. Johnny was dragging you into it, but whether or not he'd get you out of it was another question all together.

"Go cry somewhere else. I'm checking the house again, so move!"

A door slams, shaking fixtures in the room with such intensity that you could feel the vibrations in your fingertips against the floor. You weren't safe, even now, with Johnny looking down at you with a sense of aggressive guardianship. Little was known about this man but he seemed to know you, and wanted something from you that was necessary to gratify a hunger. How insatiable his appetite was made you nervous.

But also, curious. Best that you stay alive if you were looking to find out.

#texas chainsaw massacre johnny #texas chainsaw massacre #johnny sawyer #fanfic #oneshot #writing #johnny sawyer fanfic #texas chainsaw massacre fanfic #tcsm game

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pokemenlovingmen · 1 year

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Oh neato new blog!! I enjoy reading peoples different interpretations of characters through x reader imagines, and it’s nice to see another one pop up. If you’re comfortable with it, would it alright if I request a scenario using any Pokémen of your choice developing a crush on a male reader who’s a big, intimidating buff guy..but in personality is actually a softie and an attentive single father to his young child. (Who is tinyyyy. Just a lil thing to contrast dad) I like romance and found family..what can I say.

oooooh that sounds so fun and cute!! Since it seems like you meant one guy, I’ll do one dude, but a longer post! Usually that’s my form, one person gets a longer post whereas multiple get shorter segments… however long it takes me to adhere to that. Because I have no self control. Anyway, my man of choice for this ended up being Grusha, because some nice and warm fluff should melt that frosty exterior.

And on the romance and found family thing, you are speaking my language fluently, you’re talking to a guy who worships those things in fan content. You can’t!! Go wrong with it!!

Soft as Snow

Grusha x Intimidating Male Reader (who has a kid!)

So. In your relationship Grusha might be a bit uh.

❄️ — Grusha is not a kids guy. Not at all. He’s the literal opposite of sunshine and rainbows. But hosting arguably the most intense and therefore exciting out of Paldea’s gym matches and spending so much time in a snow-covered mountain that is, realistically, so much fun for a kid to go to, he sees a lot of kids. Usually glued to their parents, which he’s grateful for, because rounding up some kid who runs off is about the last thing you can expect him to do successfully. So all in all, he limits his interactions with kids as much as humanly possible, but understands his job puts him around them a lot.

❄️ — A frequent culprit of drawing in rugrats he’d really rather not interact with would be the Cetoddles he looks after. He supposes he can’t blame the kids, they’re pretty cute and definitely not something you see anywhere but the mountain. And that’s exactly what gets him awkwardly interacting with some unknown little girl when he’d rather be doing anything else.

❄️ — A little girl had come to look at one Cetoddle, and with no parents in sight, he had to stay near. So, sighing, he stuffs his hands in his pockets and walks over, making the Cetoddle chirp excitedly when it sees him. He clears his throat and makes some horribly awkward attempts at small talk at this random child, no older than seven, who is just staring at him so intently now.

❄️ — “You, uh… like Cetoddle? Yeah… um. I think he likes you,” he tries, but he’s no… well, any other gym leader, even Larry, would be better at entertaining some random child while phoning the league staff on site that some unsupervised kid is running around.

❄️ — But he never actually has to make that call, because you run up shortly after he hesitantly approaches, frantically calling your daughter’s name. Like good lord, she is so fast. You blink once and she’s gone. You’re pretty fit, but even now you’re sweating profusely from all the times she’s bolted off on you.

❄️ — Grusha just stares at you as you approach, bug-eyed and wondering how the earth didn’t literally rumble as you ran up. Because holy shit, you’re massive. Legitimately built like an Ursaring and for a second he fears for his life and regrets ever approaching this kid thinking she was lost, because he could swear at the speed a guy who looks like you is approaching, you’re about to bite his head off for getting near her. Once again, interacting with kids proves more trouble than it’s worth, considering he’s so sure this is going to genuinely cost him his life. People get rash when it comes to their kids, understandably.

❄️ — But instead, you look at him, then at your daughter and immediately fall into bowing your head muttering thanks and apologies. “Oh, hey, I’m so sorry, she can be so fast when she wants to, I hope she wasn’t pestering you and your Pokemon for too long!”

❄️ — While you’re gently chiding your daughter for running off and imposing on a stranger, he looks from her to you. Then to her. Then to you. She’s not even, like, a quarter of your size. Being a former athlete, he’s seen some built dudes, but you’re giant and he’s still taken aback by how different your attitude was compared to your appearance and how doting you clearly are over your daughter. (A big heart AND nice body? Grusha isn’t even aware of how many of his boxes you tick because he’s just never thought about those things since his accident.)

❄️ — He clears his throat, scratching at the back of his neck awkwardly. “Uh. No problem. She wasn’t causing any trouble.”

❄️ — Both of you awkwardly mumble out some small talk (Grusha really isn’t one for talking and you’re kind of struggling to hold up the conversation), but when he mentions he’s got to get back to the Gym, you’re shocked. Oh! He’s the gym leader?! THE retired snowboarding prodigy?

❄️ — Turns out you and your daughter had just moved to Paldea, and to warm up to your new home, you’re taking her to see a few of the Ten Sights of Paldea. She ran off when she saw the Cetoddle on their hike, though, and you’re pretty surprised you just kind of bumbled into a pretty famous trainer who you’ve seen in a lot of informative pamphlets and ads for the region. It also makes you increasingly apologetic for your daughter imposing on him because he definitely has a job to do, and shouldn’t be pulled away from it.

❄️ — The conversation doesn’t last much longer, and you part ways shortly after. Grusha doesn’t even realize how attractive you are to him, you’ve got his heart thumping but he doesn’t even consider feelings for someone being a reason why. He’s just sort of resigned himself to be alone. But deep down, seeing a man so attractive (like phew. you are FIT.) be so caring and soft is actually really resonating with him. Basically, you’re a type he doesn’t even know he has.

❄️ — He’s a bit surprised when he sees you and your daughter again after a week or two, back on Glaseado. You wave and give him just the sweetest, happiest greeting when you meet again and sheepishly explain that your daughter became fascinated with the local Ice-type Pokemon and had been begging to go out and see them again. (He’s not sure if he can imagine that child emoting. His interactions with her, including now, all she’s done is hug your side and stare blankly at him.)

❄️ — But you’ve done something rare, and like most of his feelings, Grusha doesn’t realize it—you’ve struck a chord with him somehow and he’s too much of a die hard, stubborn loner to understand why. So when you meet for the second time he awkwardly offers to let you and your daughter meet the local Cetoddle pod that he watches over a lot.

❄️ — It’s cute. Seeing someone of your towering stature playing with the Cetoddles, who somehow don’t fear you at all despite how intimidating you are. They’re crazy about you, probably because they see how your daughter interacts with you and just flock to your parental nature. That and your daughter herself just having a good time while you laugh with her, sometimes throwing halfhearted snowballs because you know if you actually tried to could hurt someone with one, and she mostly just wants to pelt you with them than get hit herself. (Kids)

❄️ — The whole time, Grusha’s watching, not even aware of how smitten he is. But someone else is, because after a bit he’s startled by something shaking violently on his poke ball belt, and then with a crack! and no other warning out comes his Altaria, which grabs his scarf in its talons and drags him the hell over to you. When it shoves the flustered Grusha your way, it lands and begins preening itself, instantly capturing your daughter’s attention. (Because what kid wouldn’t want to pet the fluffy cloud bird? Altaria’s cute, and it knows it.)

❄️ — While Grusha’s giving his dirty traitor of a Pokemon the stink eye, you just give this warm and hearty laugh that has his heart doing flips all over again, and pat Altaria on the head. “Aw, this is a friendly one! Isn’t it pretty?” (To which your daughter vigorously nods.)

❄️ — “Uh, yeah, sorry…” he glares at it, and out of the corner of its eye Altaria glares back. “She’s usually not like this. I don’t know what her issue is.”

❄️ — “Haha, it’s no problem!”

❄️ — Then silence. And silence. …And silence. Grusha’s out of things to say, which didn’t take long at all. You cough. He clears his throat. The both of you watch your daughter and his Pokemon play in the snow. He’s only just now realizing how strangely desperately he wants to find something to say to you. And then, while playing with your daughter, Altaria gives him another Look.

❄️ — Oh. Oh, Altaria knew, too. Altaria was trying to bide him time. Well, he couldn’t let his Pokemon companion’s efforts go to waste, as embarrassing as it was…

❄️ — “So, uh…” he clears his throat. “Wanna… come back to the gym with me? Got a coffee machine there. Get something to warm you up.”

❄️ — Your eyes light up and it feels like his heart just got body-slammed. “Hey, that sounds great!”

❄️ — You call your daughter, and he calls his Pokemon, both running at the promise of some hot chocolate from the coffee machine. As you and him are both turning to head back in the direction of the gym, you completely miss a certain interaction nearby.

❄️ — Your daughter tugs on Grusha’s scarf, and when he looks down at her, she gives an unsettlingly blank stare as she studies his face. Finally, as if it’s a complex equation she just solved, she happily announces: “You’re nice.”

❄️ — Oh, uh… thanks? Those are the words Grusha wants to say, at least, but your daughter keeps going with a genuine verbal gut-punch.

❄️ — “I think you and my daddy should get married.”

❄️ — Kids say the darndest things, huh? (You exchange numbers by the end of the day, and who knows… maybe one of you will follow your daughter’s advice some day. But definitely not today. Grusha has to go crawl into the void and die of embarrassment first.)

#pokemon x reader #grusha x reader #grusha x male reader #i’m so sorry I fumbled with this one a lot #I couldn’t figure out how to wrap it up without droning on and on forever!!#sorry for it being all disjointed but I gave it my best ;v;

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