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m0uchie · 2 months

Note

Riding scara so that he can get me pregnant as soon as possible 😇🙏 I wanna hear him whimpering as he is overstimulated AAGGAHA I NEED HIM 🗣️🗣️

⟡ is it possible to get pregnant by a puppet? It’s worth a try! Or maybe two... Or three times...

— pairing : scaramouche x afab!reader

— warnings : NSFW; breeding kink; cumming inside; reader rides scara; overstimulation

— a/n : i should be studying, but I’m just too horny to :( it’s a bit short and rushed too, I’m sry

It must be the nth time that Scaramouche has had to sneak into the house. Walking on tiptoe to avoid making noise as he passed through the room with the lights still off. His hands stretched out in front of his body with open palms and taking slow steps so as not to bump into anything since he couldn't see the way.

Unfortunately, he failed miserably. Once again.

"W-wait!" he hisses, trying to take away your arms that wrapped tightly around his waist. Low chuckles leaving your lips as you look up adorably, a smile that if he knew better he would say was sweet and rewarding to see after a tired day of work.

At first it was like that, you hugged him and kissed him fervently as soon as you heard the sound of the keys being inserted into the lock, rubbing against Scaramouche's legs and taking off his clothes, saying you would do all the work for tonight.

For him it was like a dream. His beautiful wife wanting to reward him for his hard day and making him feel good. But what seemed like a dream soon became too much. Exaggerated.

Your waist wouldn't stop even if nothing else came out of his cock, and Scaramouche would never be able to raise you from his shaft once you slid down on him, whimpering and pushing you back by your breasts, his mouth making a pout that made him even more irresistible.

"You're not gonna— mm! G-get it this time..." he pants as you ease your hands underneath his clothes and pull him into your shared room. His head falls hard against the mattress, cushioned by the softness of the pillow as you push him onto the bed.

He crawls on his back and finds himself with no way out when your arms cage him against the wall, bringing his face closer to yours.

"You didn't even let me kiss you today, babyyy." you whine, lifting his face by his chin so that it leans into yours.

You swore seeing Scaramouche's eyebrows drawn together in irritation made your pussy even wetter. You knew that even though you really took it hard, he would never seriously fight you about it, because he actually enjoyed what you did to him every night, and he always lost control at the end.

He knew the reason for your sudden change. All because he decided to help a child who was lost from his parents when you went out to buy ice cream. Maybe it was the sight of him carrying the boy in his arms? Or him going out of his way to help someone other than you? Either way, it awakens something in you, and as sensitive as Scaramouche was these past few days due to your insistence, he would put an end to it today.

“You’re ovulating, aren’t you?” He questions, making you blush slightly. He sighs deeply and touches the inside of your thighs teasingly. “I’ll give you as many kids as you want tonight. Is that what you want?” Your legs rub against each other before you nod and pull your loved one in for a hungry kiss.

Even with all the discussion beforehand, he gives in to you, parting his lips so that your tongue can enter his mouth and caress his. You think he doesn't notice, but he does when your dripping pussy rubs against his bent knee, shamelessly using it to ease the aching on your clit. He looks away from your face to shamelessly stare at the action, making you blush.

"I-I'm sorry, I didn't..."

"Didn't want to do that?" he scoffs, chuckling. "You were so assertive until recently. What changed?"

"I wan’ it." you simply say, and he pulls your hips closer, urging you to move again. "What do you want?"

You take a deep breath, half-lidded eyes staring into his.

“I want you here." you press one hand against your stomach, and with the other you awkwardly try to undo your lover's belt. He raises an eyebrow at your attitude, but helps you take off both of your clothes that stood in the way without question.

"Fuck... So wet for me." He passes his fingers between your slit, making you breathe out shaky moans and rub yourself against his hand.

"Nnnnh... Mmm- n-no... Need your cock, Scara!" you ask. Your voice melting and so sweet that Scaramouche ends up giving in, not thinking much about it and licking his fingers covered in your sweet taste before positioning them around your waist, supporting your body before releasing you on his dick at once.

You squeeze your eyes shut at the sudden entry, but your fluids make it easier for you to get used to his girth. Scaramouche moves you against his pelvis with torturous slowness and low grunts come out through grinding teeth. You rock your hips against his, increasing the thrusts.

His eyes go wide when his hands are crossed above his head, being held together by you as his head falls back without even hearing you call him. It was too much, the feeling was intense and your walls hugged his cock so deliciously that he knew you were gonna milk him dry in minutes.

“Y-yes yes yes mmh, give it to me.” You mumbled, your face close to his and your cool breath heavy against his skin. He struggles to break free from your grasp until your hands become weak and he manages to let go of your grasp, holding your waist again in a failed attempt to slow you down.

The tip of his dick was so red and his length was so hard that he thought he would explode at any moment.

“U-ugh… stop! I-if you keep doing that, 'm gonna—“ his dick throbs painfully and releases a sticky fluid inside you. You mewl at the sensation, slowly rolling your pussy even lower his sensitive cock.

“T-too much… fucking wait…” His voice comes out as a whisper in front of you. “Just a bit.”

You smile in response, indicating that you’d heard his shameful pleading, then kissing his temple, down to the tip of his nose, and to his luscious lips. Sticking your tongue inside his mouth and clenching your walls with the heat and wet sounds that build between you.

“Shh, it’s okay.” You caress his face as you separate from him, then squeeze his cheeks with your hand to form a pout, which you kiss again sensually.

He moans against your mouth in response, too weak to even question what you mean. His head shakes, and you press your forehead against his to look deep into his eyes.

“Don’t you want your cum deep inside me?” His cheeks redden, having nowhere to look, and hesitantly nods. The way you looked at him made him embarrassed, and he couldn't help but agree. “I’ll knock you up, just be g-gentle…” his voice lowers as he utters the words.

However, nothing ever works with you, because in five minutes later, you were both rutting against each other as if you were in heat. Scaramouche's eyes squeezed shut every time he thrusts his hips against yours and roughly slammed his tip against your cervix. And shooting his thick sperm into your womb at every opportunity.

“Nn-nhh take it and get pregnant with my seeds, yeah?” Your tits bounce up and down as you ride him. “‘M gonna fill you up with my cum- hah~” he arches his back, and his long fingers close around your belly. Your mixed essences flow out of your puffy pussy as he fucks more into you.

With your vision blurred with pleasure, you collapse on top of him, cockwarming him for a while. It surprises you when he slides out of you and rubs his cum covered cock at your entrance, stoping to scoop up his seed and finger it all back into your tight pussy. When he is satisfied, he sticks his cock inside you again.

“And look, you even have a little bump here now.” He touches the area where his dick is buried in you and massages it, making you hum and bite your lower lip.

If a puppet is capable of making you pregnant, you have no way of knowing. But it doesn't mean you shouldn't try your very best until it happens.

#𝜗𝜚 [ m0uchie posts! ]#૮꒰ requests ꒱ა #+18 content #scaramouche smut #wanderer smut #genshin impact smut #genshin smut

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nomniki · 10 months

Text

stuck in your web ━━ jake sim ⟡ spiderman au

★ wc 1.3k warnings none note @soobnny u inspired me to write this while i was on the plane i’m actually insane my brain is rotting w spidey bf jake (proofread but idk if there r any mistakes rip sry pookies)

Not even your blankets could stave off the whisper of cold wind that followed Jake in through the window, a chill that was just as quickly chased away by his embrace. He slid in beneath your comforter, a drawn out sigh leaving his lips, one of which you learned as you turned around, was split and crusted with blood. Your hand found his cheek in the darkness, the other reaching out blindly for the light switch.

“No, don’t,” he grumbled halfheartedly, pressing his forehead between your shoulder blades in a lazy attempt to hide the lasting damage of his latest fight.

Your fingers closed the switch and you turned your bedside lamp on despite his protests, propping yourself up on your elbow to better survey his injuries. Jake had made a terrible habit of assuming that slipping into your bed and just having you in his arms would solve all his problems, emotional and physical. As much as you despised the fact, that wasn’t true.

“Let me clean you up?”

You asked softly, brushing his bangs away from his face lazily, wincing as you felt his ordinarily soft hair crusted with something— blood, or dirt, you weren’t sure. In times like this, it felt like there wasn’t much you could offer Jake, and an inescapable feeling of helplessness swelled and formed a lump in your throat. He’d reassured you time and time again that your company was enough, but you figured the least you could do was clean him up to the best of your ability.

“No, let’s just go to sleep, I’ll do it tomorrow,” Jake mumbled, his eyebrows furrowed cutely and his words muffled by the soft cotton of your pillow.

You rolled your eyes, and gathered the motivation to slip out of bed— Jake let you go without any coherent protest, and you padded into the bathroom. The routine you’d adopted was methodical and you had to admit there was something therapeutic about it— saline solution, a glass of warm water, a flannel and the Hello Kitty bandaids Jake claimed to hate but never stopped you from putting on the lesser of his injuries. His arms wound around your waist as you perched on the edge of the bed, pulling you close enough that he could rest his cheek against your thigh.

“I’ll sleep easy knowing I’ve helped you, even a little,” you hummed quietly, running your hand through his hair, trying not to tug when your fingers caught on whatever it was that had gotten stuck, presumably during his fight.

“You’re helping me by being a good cushion,” he huffed, his breath fanning warmly across your bare skin and it was almost criminal how endearing he could be without trying.

“Jake.”

He sighed dramatically, shuffling to sit up in front of you, still in his spider suit— the webbed material had become oddly familiar under your fingers and it was with practiced ease that you peeled the suit away from his skin. Your heart was caught in your throat as you revealed planes of tan skin, terrified you’d come across an injury that couldn’t be fixed with pink—patterned plasters and a gentle kiss. Jake reached for your hands, grabbing your wrist and bringing your trembling hands to his mouth, pressing a gentle kiss to your knuckles.

“I’m fine, really— just a couple scratches.”

His reassurances did wonders to comfort you, and you swallowed down the anxiety in your throat, nodding and offering him a small, sleepy sort of smile. You traced the ridges of his collarbones, your fingers dancing over divots and muscles that contracted instinctively under your gentle touch. Jake slumped, relaxing into your assessment of his injuries, and it gave you a rush like no other knowing you were the only person he trusted with this.

“Keroppi or My Melody?”

You asked, a laugh dancing on your lips in the form of an amused smile as you held up his options— a square plaster with Keroppi depicted on the beach, or My Melody sat with a character you didn’t know the name of.

“Keroppi,” Jake murmured after a moment of contemplation, and you averted your attention from his pretty face to focus on peeling the paper backing off the plaster.

There was a cluster of small scratches along his ribs, raw and aggravated, and you frowned— Jake’s thumb reached up to push gently at your frown, and you bit the tip of his thumb playfully. He laughed, and the sound of it was the only plaster needed to soothe your worried heart.

“I can barely even feel ‘em, you don’t need to look so worried.”

“‘s my job to be worried about you, Jake.”

Jake let out a quiet huff, his bottom lip jutting out in a stupidly kissable pout, “it’s not your job, but it’s one of the many reasons why I love you.”

You were grateful to be sat with your back to the lamp, knowing the blush on your cheeks wouldn’t be illuminated.

“I love you too.”

“I know.”

You went through the motions of cleaning the rest of his injuries— thankfully, none of them were more than shallow scratches, and some warm water and a cloth had them mostly sorted. His torso was an array of carefully arranged Hello Kitty plasters, at least twelve pastel coloured, cartoon faces staring up at you with unseeing eyes. The only injury you hadn’t dealt with was his split lip, and Jake frowned when he realised you’d insist on cleaning that too.

“Ynnie, can’t you just kiss that one better?”

He pleaded, looking up at you through his lashes with the puppy—dog eyes that ordinarily would entice you into folding to his whims. You shook your head, placing your palms against his cheeks and squishing gently, forcing his lips into a pout. You leaned forward and kissed him softly, allowing the tension to bleed out of your rigid shoulders once you’d seen for yourself that he was truly okay.

“I can’t kiss it better, but I can kiss you anyway,” you murmured against his lips, pressing another chaste kiss against them before you pulled away, the warm, damp cloth in hand.

You cleaned the small cut as carefully as possibly, and if a minute or so of that time had been spent admiring the slope of his cupids bow or the criminally enticing pink of his lips, that was between you and God.

“Your pyjamas are in the wardrobe,” you prompted him— they were technically yours, but they had become a staple of Jake’s post—fight routine.

He rolled out of your bed still pouting, nearly taking your duvet with him before you tugged it back, hiding a giggle behind your arm. Jake threw his spider suit into the depths of your closet with the internal promise to grab it when he woke up, and suited up instead in fluffy Cookie Monster pyjama bottoms and a shirt he was sure had once been his. When Jake crawled back into your bed, he flopped onto your chest with no regard for your need to breathe.

“If college doesn’t work out, I don’t see why you couldn’t pursue a career as a mattress,” he mumbled, situating his cheek against your chest and ensuring he could feel the steady pound of your heart against his ear, “actually, that’s a terrible idea— I think if you ever let anyone else lay on you like this, I think I’d throw up.”

You let out a huff of laughter, your hands tangling in his hair like they belonged there, your eyes crinkled in amusement. Jake’s weight was familiar, and you relaxed under him, fumbling blindly for the duvet to pull it over both your bodies.

“Not a career path ‘m considering, so you have nothing to worry about,” you whispered against the top of his head, your statement punctuated by an unfairly soft kiss. Jake propped his chin up on your sternum, looking up at you expectantly.

“Goodnight kiss?”

You rolled your eyes in feigned exasperation, and leaned forward enough that your lips met in a sweet kiss, though you were mindful of the split that would take at least a few hours to scab over.

“You’re such a baby.”

“Your baby.”

“Yeah, mine.”

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raythekiller · 11 months

Note

I’m happy to be apart of the family!! I’ve chosen 🫧anon btw, because who doesn’t like bubbles :)

my little request is the creeps or proxies and how they’d be helpful during that lovely time of month, because me and my cramps need some comfort while I crave 🤯. Of course you’re welcome to add our favorite boy, lane.

again, please to join this community of anons!!

-🫧anon

🗒 ❛ Reader On Their Period ༉‧₊˚✧

Featuring: Jeff The Killer, Ben Drowned, Ticci Toby, Eyeless Jack, Masky, Hoodie, Lane The Lurker

#Notes: sry it took a while to answer this one ive got over 40 asks in my inbox-

pronouns used: none, gn! afab! reader

˗ˏˋ back to navigation ´ˎ˗

꒰⸝⸝₊⛓┊Jeff The Killer

This piece of shit jerk will most likely be grossed out by it, like he doesn't come home covered in someone else's aids infested blood on a daily basis. "But it's different!-" yeah yeah, sure thing, Jeffrey. Will at most throw you a heat pack, but from a distance, he doesn't want to get cooties or whatever it is that you have.

꒰⸝⸝₊⛓┊Ben Drowned

Again, he died when he was about twelve, I doubt his parents gave him the talk™ before he hit the shits. After you explain it to him, he's mortified. Will actually act like you're dying. If you show any signs at all of being in pain he'll rush you over to EJ whether you like it or not, but when you're fine he just tries to help distract you with videogames.

꒰⸝⸝₊⛓┊Ticci Toby

He's used to it because of Lyra, so he knows what to do. Steals any product you might need, like snacks, tampons and pain killers and gives you lots of cuddles. Also gives you a warm blanket and rubs your stomach whenever your cramps get a bit much. Deadass treats you like royalty.

꒰⸝⸝₊⛓┊Eyeless Jack

Come on guys, he's a doctor, he knows his shit. If you're in pain he'll make you a medicine cocktail that will get rid of issues you didn't even know you had. Though he's not the most physically affectionate - you'll have to ask if you're needy and want attention. If you do manage to cuddle him, it actually helps with the cramps because of how warm he is.

꒰⸝⸝₊⛓┊Masky

Assuming you're dating, he's actually a lot more gentle with you during this time of the month, knowing you can get a bit moody. Makes sure you always have enough tampons and pain killers. Might even give you a massage if you ask nicely. Feels bad about seeing you in pain, so he might take you to EJ as well if it's a bit much.

꒰⸝⸝₊⛓┊Hoodie

Did you know orgasms help with period cramps? It's true. That is his first suggestion when you complain about being in pain and you're not totally sure whether he's kidding or not (he's not). Overall, like Toby, also steals any supplies you might need and cuddles you if you need some attention, finding you cute when you're needy like this.

꒰⸝⸝₊⛓┊Lane The Lurker

They take care of all your chores so you can just lay down and relax. Cleaning, cooking, laundry, they've got it all covered, you just lay there and look pretty. Cooks you your favorite food and puts on your favorite movie for you to watch while you both cuddle under the covers. Hates seeing you in pain, so they rub your stomach as well to try and help you feel a bit better.

#creepypasta #creepypasta headcanons #creepypasta x reader #ray.writes #ticci toby #ticci toby x reader #eyeless jack #jeff the killer #ben drowned #ben drowned x reader #eyeless jack x reader #jeff the killer x reader #masky #masky x reader #hoodie #hoodie x reader #oc.lane hellshire #creepypasta oc

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cumulo-stratus · 2 days

Note

Hi!! Could you do a Spencer Reid x male reader where reader comes home upset about Strauss (or someone else at work) yelling at them about something so Spencer comforts reader as he breaks down? PLEASEEEEE

Home is with him[s.r]

Spencer comes home to find you struggling, and does his best to help

WARNINGS- angst, villainizes strauss, talks about being yelled at, crying

Spencer Reid x male!reader ][ hurt/comfort ][ masterlist!!

a/n- this was such a cute request!!! sry it took so long

1.65k

Your feet felt like lead blocks as you trudged up the too many stairs to Spencer's apartment.

The bag on your shoulder felt just as heavy as it weighed your shoulder down even more than your posture had already sagged.

You felt like you didn't even have the mental energy to be annoyed when you couldn't get the key into the old jinky lock that was always hard to open.

But it felt particularly annoying today as you grimaced to yourself and flared your nostrils slightly while jimmying with the key

When the door finally jimmied itself open, it creaked with the age of the building through the empty corridor.

You were met with an equally empty apartment in front of you.

Even though you knew he wasn’t there, there was some part of you deep down that still hoped to call out his name and hear a response from somewhere deeper in the apartment.

”spencerrr! i'm home! Are you in the bedroom?” you called out hopefully. The phrase was followed by a pang of disappointment when there was no response, just the quiet creaking of the old building settling.

you had known that your boyfriend was on a case, and you knew that he rarely came home before 10 pm on cases.

but a small part of you still hoped, maybe being the amazing genius of a boyfriend he is, he'd solved it in hours and flown back to take you right into his arms.

you imagined Spencer encasing you in his embrace, the way he always does, and used it to give yourself the strength to put your things away.

By the time your work bag and shoes had been left by the door along with your keys and your grimey work clothes had been shed there was a lump in your throat that you couldn't swallow down.

You shoved the aforementioned work clothes at the bottom of your hamper, trying to push away the bad joojoo lingering on the pieces of cloth.

It felt impossible to not keep recalling the harsh reprimanding and even harsher insults that Strauss had thrown at you. She had decided that today was the day to rip into you over something as simple as some paperwork.

According to Strauss, she won't accept idiocracy or carelessness in her employees. Apparently, this ‘moronic’ mistake could've caused miscommunication, which could've caused a field agent to be injured or killed.

her harsh words clawed at your thoughts as you leaned against the counter in the kitchen, lost in thought.

when you finally forced yourself to make some dinner, you couldn't bring yourself to make an actual meal. So you opted instead to munch on a bag of trail mix.

without the distraction of figuring out what to eat you felt the lump rise again in your throat, strauss’ words ringing in your thoughts.

the lump grew to a burning behind your eyes as you sunk down into the old leather couch that smelled like worn pages.

Spencer's whole apartment smells like old books, that was one of the things that you'd always loved about your boyfriend's apartment.

Usually the smell was a comfort, but today it only furthered to remind you of his absence. Everything reminded you of Spencer when he was gone.

The apartment smelled like him, the kitchen had remnants of Spencer's rushed breakfast that you hadn't the will to clean. And of course every book littered on almost every surface.

You almost hoped the leather would open up and swallow you so you wouldn't have to think anymore. But when no matter how much you willed it to happen and it didn't, you instead opted for the tv.

Friends almost immediately became static. And in this static you felt a warmth on your cheek. A tear. And then another one, and another. And another.

Soon the floodgates were open and your lip wobbled. The only thing you could do was pull your knees up to your chest as you leaned to lay sideways with your head on the pillow, and hope that Spencer would come home soon.

Soon the mixing of the TV, the AC unit, and the dehumidifier all became one collective static noise to your ears.

It felt like moments later when you blinked your eyes open from a sort of half sleep half trance. But then you realized what had woken you; the door unlocking and creaking open across the small mudroom area.

You could hear the faint sound of shoes sliding off, and a bag slumping on the floor as you tried your best to rub off the tear tracks and rub the redness from your eyes away as Spencer approached.

When your boyfriend had arrived, the first thing he noticed as the door closed behind him was that most of the lights were turned off, and that friends was playing faintly on the tv.

All this led Spencer to deduce that you had fallen asleep by the tv waiting for him. It was only 9 pm, but he assumed you'd had a long day at work. That was an understatement.

As he rounded the couch, where he expected to find your sleeping frame, he instead found you, with eyes reddened from tears that had long since been shed.

Spencer's face immediately twisted into a concerned frown, a knot between his brows forming as he took you in.

You looked,, tired. Spencer could see the obvious rementants of tears on your reddened cheeks and in your tired, tired eyes.

When you finally looked at Spencer, he cupped your face in his hand, using his thumb to softly brush away the tears.

No words had been spoken yet, your lip only wobbled the tiniest bit. That was when Spencer finally spoke, “oh honey,”.

Spencer spoke so softly if he hadn't been inches away from you, you wouldn't have heard him. His voice was murmured and gentle.

The sound of Spencer's voice is what caused you to break. You're pretty sure your body was aware that it was finally safe, now that your boyfriend was here. With Spencer you were safe.

The wobbling lip turned to broken sob, and a new round of tears streaking your cheeks. Spencer could feel them hitting his fingers and wetting them.

You needed to be held, and Spencer knew that. So he moved from standing in front of you, to sitting with you in his warm embrace finally.

With you in his arms, you could finally let out the tears comfortably. Their warmth wet Spencer's work shirt, the thin material becoming darker.

You had immediately buried your face in his neck, allowing his scent to overtake you. He smelled like the worn pages of a book and coffee grounds.

It filled your nostrils and made you breath in a deep sigh. Spencer had inadvertently helped to stop you from crying.

He had that effect on you, bringing peace. “You wanna talk about it?” Spencer asked, again speaking with a murmured and ever so gentle tone.

Spencer could feel you sigh into his neck, it was the only response you gave him. Spencer took this as you needed to talk about it, but refused to.

So he asked again- “darling you should at least tell me what happened- please?” Spencer spoke with the biggest puppy dog eyes you’d ever seen.

The only reason you could see the puppy eyes Spencer was so good at was that he had forced you (gently guided your head with his hands) to look at him.

But he was right in doing it, as the look on his face made you cave. You just couldn't not- it was Spencer after all.

Spencer noticed this shift almost immediately. His face softened more than it already had if that was even possible.

“Come on love,”

The furrow between his brows was so tight with worry for his boyfriend you thought they might become one conjoined eyebrow. This thought made you let out a little chuckle through the tears.

With a final sigh, you begin, “well Strauss yelled at me today in front of everyone over a filing error, she said that- that idiotic mistakes like that get agents killed in the field..” you trailed off, not wanting to continue the story as your voice had cracked.

Spencer could tell there was more, but he didn't pry. He just went into helpful boyfriend mode and started rubbing your back gently, allowing you to rest your head back into the crook of his neck.

“My darling I'm sorry-” His voice had a slight gravel to it from how low and soft he spoke.

You watched the way his Adam's apple bobbed when he spoke, and the way the soft skin under his jaw moved in tandem.

You tried to use this to distract yourself from the tears still making their way down your cheeks. It didn't work.

Instead Spencer took your silence as a cue to keep talking. “Would you like some tea, I got a new one you might like at the shop the other day” Spencer said hopefully.

You nodded pitifully, your shoulders still heavy. Spencer just pecked your temple as he stood up.

Only minutes and the sound of a whistling tea kettle later Spencer came back with two mugs. They were a matching set that had Mr. on each, reminiscent of Mr. and Mrs. mugs. Penelope had gifted them as a half joking present a couple years ago.

He placed both on separate coasters on the worn coffee table before pulling you back into his lap. His lanky arms wrapped around you gently and brought you close to his chest.

You relaxed back into him as he gently played with your hair. He spoke calm, soft, and reassuring words to you.

He also peppered small kisses against your hair and behind your ear and anywhere else he could find as you eventually fell asleep against him.

The End

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diagonal-queen · 8 months

Note

Can I request HCs with Jouno with a very quiet reader whose love language is physical touch? Ignore this if you don't want to and take your time (:

Jouno with a quiet and touchy S/O

♡ pairing: Jouno Saigiku x gn!Reader

♡ synopsis: Quiet and touchy you dates calm and (dis)agreeable Jouno Saigiku.

♡ wc: 729

♡ cw: Teensy tiny bit of NSFW but nothing too bad (Jouno gets a BONER!!!??!!!?????!???)

note: I've decided to try switching up the post formatting a little from here on out- just trying to make it a little nicer on the eyes. Please leave feedback if you guys like it or not!! Apologies for errors and I hope you enjoy x

First of all, Jouno doesn't have an issue with you being quiet or being touchy

Even if you don't talk/make much noise he can listen to your heartbeat, the rustling of your hair, your breathing et cetera to tell how you're feeling and if you're nearby

He loves holding your hand and he runs his thumb over your knuckles <3

After a long day of work his favourite thing to do is come home and collapse into your warm, open arms

He says otherwise, but he actually prefers when he gets to lay on top of your chest so he can listen to your heartbeat. Also tits but yk

If you talk to him but not to others very often it makes him feel special. It also makes him feel very protective over you because he knows how much trust you have in him

(Even if you're fully capable of protecting yourself, or you do self-defence or you're just large or whatever. This man will make it his mission to keep you safe you have no choice sry)

Jouno loves to watch movies with you, especially horror movies, for a few reasons. He knows that you like movies since there's no need to talk during them, and he likes the way your heartbeat speeds up and you cling to his side when you get scared (I want to make a 'Don't Breathe' joke but I can't think of one lmao)

He likes talking to you because you're a good listener, and when I say 'talking' I just mean complaining about Tecchou because...duh. But he also really loves when you talk to him a lot because it makes him feel trusted, and he likes learning more about you

For real though he would probably prefer that you did get along with Tecchou, because you being friends with him might mean he'll annoy Jouno less. Maybe.

A lot of the time when you guys hang out you don't really even need to speak to each other. Y'know when you hang out with someone you love and you can just spend time with each other without having to talk and it's not awkward or anything? It's like that with him

He can sense your relaxation and happiness when you're with him and he loves it so much

He really likes to fluster you

I mean really likes to fluster you. He loves to tease you and make you blush, mostly in private, but in public if necessary (maybe another person tries to rizz you up and he sees this and just thinks 'absolutely not')

Like he'll call you all kinds of pet names (mostly stuff like 'darling' or 'my love'), put his arm around your waist, whisper flirtatious things into your ear, stuff like that

He would also never admit this but he especially loves when you do it back to him out of nowhere. When you suddenly gain confidence and take his chin in your fingers, run your thumb over his lip and purr something to him??

Even he can't stop the blood visibly rushing to his cheeks

and his cock lowkey

Y'all massage each other!! Jouno loves them because let's face it he really needs one, and he loves giving them to you because he likes helping you relax, and it also shows him the scope of your trust in him (he really values this)

You guys have a lot of at-home dates, but when you do go out you do cute things like eat at cafes and go for walks. You and he like to pet all the doggos/kittys you see (if you're not allergic obvs!)

He bought you a promise ring. You wear it every day and he couldn't be happier

If your love language is physical touch then his is probably gift giving or quality time. Since he doesn't have that much time to spend with you he tries to make up for it by treating you to things he thinks you would like (he's kind of a sugar daddy)

He especially likes buying you new clothes and seeing your excitement when you try them on and show them to him- he knows you look great, but more importantly he knows you're happy

If you're a soft-spoken or quiet person Jouno is seriously the guy for you. Plus, even the strongest soldiers need hugs :')

taglist~ ♡ @gettinshiggywithit, @fyodorhatr, @flower-of-darkness, @bejeweledgirl

282 notes · View notes

mjlovescm · 2 years

Note

what about riding rodrick’s thigh please?? (sry english isn’t my 1st language) lov you’re writing!!

Drum Lesson, 🍋 Rodrick Heffley

an: I had this idea before but never got around to writing it. Thank you so much for requesting and reading.

Sitting on your boyfriends lap, you hummed along to your favorite song as you played it on the drums. Or at least attempted to. Rodrick had only given you a few lessons and mostly to Löded Diper songs, but you were sorta getting the hang of this drummer thing. And even though Rodrick himself wouldn't out right agree, you were skilled enough to where his hands could be occupied on your hips and waist instead of correcting you. Or more so, using it as a way to correct you.

Tightly one of Rodrick's hands grip your hip indicating that you had played something incorrectly. You were quick to argue, and he was quick to prove you wrong. He had you replay the song, stopping you as the sound of a mistake hit his ears. Taking your hands into his, Rodrick played with or more so for you. The difference was slight, very slight. So I guess technically he was right.

“Told you.” He gloated in his “I know music, and you don't” voice, aka his normal voice.

“Shut up.” You told him playfully. “The only reason I messed up was your stupid leg.”

He didn't say anything, but you could tell he was making that cute confused face of his.

“Your leg, you keep bouncing it and shaking my body.” You clarify. “It's distracting me.”

“Oh.” He dragged on the word longer than he needed to.

Wanting to know why, you turned to face him and found Rodrick had his signature smug look on his face.

“Yea…”

“How distracting am I?”

Rodrick had that look in his eyes, that lace in his words to him, you were “distracted”. Scoffing, you rolled your eyes and turned back to the drums.

“Not like that.”

“Sure.” Rodrick whispered, dragging the word again, clearly unconvinced.

Going back to playing, all you could think was how annoying it was when Rodrick was right about things like this. He was your boyfriend so if anybody could tell when you were feeling a little excited it was him, You weren't distracted before, but now you certainly were. And the bouncing of Rodrick's legs and squeezing of your hips weren't helping.

“Maybe we should take a break.” Rodrick says, words still holding that suggestive tone.

“And do what?” You ask genuinely.

“Ya know.” He dances around the idea. “Something to help you relax.”

A moment later, Rodrick was blasting Löded Diper and you were now sitting on his leg rather than his lap. Easing into his body, you laid your back to Rodrick's chest, his chin resting on your shoulder. You were barely moving, more so thinking about it than actually doing it. It was a tempting thought, of course, but would it really help you “relax”. Setting your inner turmoil aside, Rodrick decided it was best to take this into his own hands. Literally.

Gently, his fingers caresses your skin, tips finding their way under your waist band before the pads dig into your flesh. A low groan leaving him as his hands squeezing the fat of your hips and thighs. He loved it when you were this close to him, sitting on his lap or on his leg, Rodrick didn't care. The sound burned a small smile of excitement into your face, skin starting to heat up. Continuing his movements, Rodrick stroked your skin before returning to a squeeze, but not releasing his hold this time. Instead, using it to rock your hips backward, the sudden pressure against your clit sending a rush through your body. A whimper slipping past your lips without your control.

“Come on.” Rodrick cooed. “Stop acting like you don't like it.”

He presses a kiss to your neck, and you shudder at the warmth of his breath and although you couldn't see it, Rodrick was definitely smirking. Ignoring it and him, you rocked your hips again, rougher this time. Deeper. Biting back a moan as the rush returned.

“Fine.” He gave up momentarily, seeing how fast you and your body were opening up to the idea.

And more importantly, how much of it you were letting him control. It was his idea after all, Rodrick and his stupid leg were the reason you kept messing up. So why wouldn't he do all the work. Moving back and forth while the many layers between your skin quickly built friction as your clothed clit rubbed against his thigh. Your moans drowning in the sea of Löded Diper's heavy metal as your fingers found their way into his hair pulling and tugging at his scalp, desperate for his lips and tongue found their way to your neck. His mouth is immediate, sucking and ever so gently biting your skin. Wanting more than just the mess between your legs and wobble of your walk to be proof of his work.

“Fuck Rodrick.” You whispered breaths deepening, shaking as your orgasm approached.

“No.” He told you with a rasp to his voice. “Not yet.”

You whined as he suddenly slowed your movements, wanting to hear you admit your earlier “distraction” before giving you what you wanted.

“Okay, okay, fine, I like it.” You caved in straightaway.

“You like what, huh?” He teased you. “Tell me what you like.”

“I l-like” You hesitated, realizing you really had to say it out loud. “ I like riding your, your thigh.” You rushed it out, “Please Rodrick, I'm so close, please.”

He chuckled, a smirk.

“Fine, but only because you asked so nicely, baby.”

His grip tightened, nails digging into your skin as your grinding sped up. His lips met yours, silencing the beautiful noises you were making. In an instant, all the friction you'd built-up came tumbling down as your orgasm took over your body. You took your time with it, overindulging you tightly closed your legs, the pleasure becoming too much to bear, but still you continued to ride Rodrick's thigh.

Masterlist

#rodrick x reader #black fem reader #mjlovescm #rodrick heffley #diary of a wimpy kid #reader insert smut #black reader smut #thigh riding

3K notes · View notes

foxaftershocks · 6 days

Note

Hi!! I just wanna say first that I absolutely adore ur writing :) and I've literally never done this before, tbh, so I'm so sry if I've done anything wrong or smth. :)

But I wanted to suggest maybe a reader thats also an engineer and scientist for the Ghostbusters, who Lars always considered less able than him since reader was quite quiet, and would run their expermients in peace, never rly interacting with people. Until one day reader is talking to lucky or phoebe or smth, and goes off on a tangent when talking abt smth they're working on, and it's a very sudden realisation to him that reader is actually rly knowledgeable, that their intelligence is much greater than he anticipated.

Totally fine if u don't wanna write it, remember to take care of urself!! <3

I always take care of myself <3 you did nothing wrong, a totally perfect request. I hope you like it

You were sitting across the room from Lars, absorbed in your work, headphones on as your head nodded in time to the beat of whatever music you were listening to. He hadn’t heard you arrive that morning. Not an unusual situation. He never heard much from you ever.

You seemed to be so unaware of his gaze on you, watching as your hands moved, fingers typing, adjusting your equipment, writing something down in a notebook. That was something he’d noticed. You kept paper notes.

Insane. Absolutely nuts.

Your head tilted up and he realised he’d been caught watching. His nose wrinkled and he looked back to his own work. It wasn’t as if he wasn’t busy. He had enough to get on with.

There was no reason for you to be there. He kept trying to figure out what it was you did, what you contributed to the lab. You kept to yourself and no one else could tell him what it was you did. You preferred to work alone, and while he could empathise with that as someone who didn’t love working in a team, he did enjoy leading a team of researchers. You’d never agreed to joining him.

He had to assume it’s because you knew you weren’t up to the task.

When he next looked up, you were gone. The workstation was empty and there was nothing to indicate where you’d gone. He couldn’t imagine you were rushing off to tell someone of a great discovery.

You’d never had one before now.

It wasn’t that he felt contempt for you. Surely there was a reason you’d been hired. He just thought everyone should be on his level and you just weren’t. The proof was in the output.

Stretching, arms above his head, he figured it was time for another cup of tea, the one he’d made earlier having gotten cold as he lost himself in his work. Taking the mug, he sauntered towards the small kitchen set up in the back corner.

“So if I can just figure out where the spectrometer has gone then I think I’ll be back on track.”

He paused outside the door. That was your voice. At least, he was pretty sure it was. From the few times he’d heard it he thought it probably was.

There was something there in your voice, not something he’d heard from you before. It was close to excitement. Lingering out of sight, he continued to listen. He certainly wasn’t about to offer the information that he had the spectrometer you were looking for. It would be put to better work in his possession.

“You really think you’ll be able to figure it out?” That would be Lucky. He didn’t realise the two of you talked. Lucky was meant to be his intern, not yours. He didn’t know why it rankled him so much.

“Sure. I mean, Nadeem keeps letting me study him to figure out where the source of his magic is so… I can’t see why I wouldn’t,” you said, “oh but you remember when I hooked him up to the EEG machine?”

“Yeah. You got those weird readings, right?” Lucky prompted.

“Right and I spent hours staring at them trying to work it out. And then inspiration struck. So I thought maybe there was some kind of electrical field going on. Which would be crazy because usually we don’t think the two are linked. But fire conducts electricity and so can humans. So what if the magic is connected to ions? Seems simple, right? Only, the electrical charge usually comes from the gas around the flame rather than the flame itself. So does he actually manipulate the gas? Or, is it this pyrotron subatomic particle we haven’t found yet? I mean, in order to prove that one I have to find quarks in isolation and I think that would rock the science community more than proving the science behind pyrokinesis,” you said, almost all in one breath.

It was easily the most he’d ever heard you say before.

“Because in order to prove that I’d need to show that Nadeem is manipulating pyrotrons with psychic powers, probably through the electric signals in his brain, and making them hit isolated quarks, which don’t exist so… I’m back to looking at electricity in flames because clearly it’s to do with the electrical activity in his brain,” you said, with a sigh at the end.

Lars felt his breath catch. There was so much going on in your brain, so many thoughts, so many theories, and you were investigating something he hadn’t even considered looking at. Maybe that’s why you always worked alone. Your projects were on things no one considered researching. You looked at the world differently.

It was… refreshing.

He’d thought you’d ket silent because you knew you couldn’t keep up with the rest of the scientists. Instead, it looked as if you kept silent because your research was so different from everyone else’s. They were so focused on ghosts. You were trying to understand everything in its entirety.

He felt dumbstruck. Everything he thought he knew was wrong. It wasn’t usual for him and he felt on the backfoot. It was like you’d been lying to him but for that to be true you would have had to have talked to him. This was so much worse. This was him lying to himself.

You were so much smarter than he’d thought and it left him questioning so many things.

Walking through the door, he felt combative, like he wanted to start a fight. Your voice died as he did, eyes widening when you saw him. He offered a tight smile, pouring out the cold tea into the sink. He glanced over his shoulder, finding you turning away.

“I’ll see you later,” you mumbled to Lucky.

You slipped out of the room, not even offering him another look. He scrubbed at the mug, not wanting to bother making another cup, taking his frustration out on it.

“Rough day?” Lucky asked, sliding up to him.

“I don’t want to talk about it,” he replied.

“No sweat,” she said, “but maybe don’t glare at people when you enter a room. It sure does clear it.”

He didn’t have a response to that, refusing to be shamed by a teenager. He left the mug on the rack to dry and walked out of the room, lips pursed, trying to work out how to feel about everything. He wasn’t used to feeling stupid and yet that’s where he was. He’d judged you because he never heard you talk. Because you kept to yourself. Because you didn’t feel the need to show off like the others around the lab did.

You were sitting in his sight again, the headphones back in place over your ear, pen tapping your notebook in time with your music. You didn’t even look up when he sat down, staring at you. If he allowed himself to admit it, you were lovely to look at. Even trapped in a world of your own, there was something there that he found pleasing. You were soft, like the worries of the world had never curved your shoulders, and your wide eyed gaze left him feeling like there was no pretence. You had never lied. He’d just been a fool.

He stood, hands already grasping the spectrometer he’d stashed in the storage behind his desk. trying to project confidence, he sauntered over with it. Placing it down in front of you, he waited a moment for you to notice. Your gaze dragged up to him and once again he was struck by how lovely your face was. You were slow to tug he headphones off, leaving them hanging around your neck.

“I heard you were looking for this,” he said.

You looked down at the machine in front of you then back up to him. There was a slight curve to your lips, an almost smile marred with a hint of confusion. Your eyelashes fluttered and you tilted your head down, looking back to the spectrometer.

“Thank you,” you said, voice sweet.

It was a sudden thought that he could probably listen to you talk for hours. Not that he’d ever be offered the chance.

“And uh, if you ever need help or want to talk through anything.” His hand came up, rubbing at the back of his neck. He hadn’t felt this awkward since his university days, “I’m just over there. I don’t know if you know. You seem to keep to yourself. So maybe you don’t want the interruption. But yeah, I’m just over there if you need anything.”

Christ, he was rambling. It wasn’t like you were the first pretty girl he’d ever talked to. He didn’t even have a crush on you. What was wrong with him today?

“I’m sure you’re too busy to help me,” you replied, voice quiet and far more put together than him, “you’re always working on something.”

“Oh,” he said, shoulders deflating. You were being polite but of course you didn’t want his help. Especially when you seemed to be a genius in your own right and more than capable of being brilliant without his input.

“Not that I don’t appreciate the offer. But you’re working on important things and I don’t want to bother you with my stuff. You’re probably working on some new weapon that will save someone’s life or something. My stuff is pretty silly in comparison.” Your head was bowed and he wished he could see the expression in your eyes.

“All science is important,” he said.

“No, I know but you know, my stuff isn’t saving the world like yours so, I don’t want to take time away from that,” you said, voice growing quieter the further along you went.

“I’m always happy to help,” he said, hoping it would be enough.

Your eyes darted up to him and he saw panic there. He took a step back, reeling from the look. He knew he wasn’t always the friendliest guy but this was a not the kind of reaction he ever expected from his words, especially when they were meant to be nice. He took another step back.

“Right, well, I’ll stop bothering you,” he said.

Thrusting his hands in his pockets, he wandered back to his own station, shoulders curved forward, trying to figure out what he’d done wrong. Other than ignore you, he couldn’t think of anything you would know about. It’s not as if his thoughts were broadcast over the tannoy system.

Only he hadn’t really been ignoring you, had he? He’d noticed you enough to form an opinion. He watched you. He’d grown used to your habits. He thought about you. Earlier that day he’d been watching you. There was no way he could pretend like you had been a non-entity in his life.

When he looked up at you again, your head dipped down as if you’re been looking at him just a moment ago. He found a flutter in his stomach, like a butterfly taking flight. The thought of you watching him was pleasing. Unless it was because you were wary of him and felt you had to keep an eye on him.

Finally taking the chance, he went to make himself another cup of tea, if only to try and ease you again. Maybe his presence made you uncomfortable. He didn’t like the thought that he made you uncomfortable.

He decided perhaps to keep his distance for a while.

A few days and he stayed away. He didn’t try to engage you in conversation, allowing himself to watch you when he thought you wouldn’t notice. The more attention he paid, the more he realised exactly how wrong he’d been. You kept to yourself, but you were confident in what you were doing. Something had alighted in him, the flame fanned by your confidence. Someone so capable at science was a turn on. He hadn’t expected that. He should have. But he hadn’t.

And he should have expected to hear you in the kitchen again.

“I just find him really intimidating,” you said, just through the doorway.

“Why?” Lucky laughed.

“He’s so smart and I know you’re going to make fun of me for this, but he’s really handsome. I’ve never been good around smart pretty people,” you said.

He lent closer, wanting to hear more. He didn’t know who you were talking about and the thought someone else in the lab was receiving such compliments made him feel disgruntled.

“Just talk to him,” Lucky said, “he’s not that scary.”

“I can’t,” you whined, “I get all tongue tied around him and he offered to help me and I just… I totally put my foot in it.”

Who else had been offering you help? He would hunt them down and make it clear to stay away from you. Or, no, that would just make you more scared of him. He had to gentle dissuade them from helping you.

“Yeah, trust me, he’s done that plenty of times,” Lucky snorted, “seriously, just talk to him again. Two awkward nerds deserve each other.”

You gave a small chuckle and he could imagine the soft smile on you face, small, underfed, and yet still there.

“I didn’t think he even know I existed,” you eventually said.

“Look, Pinfield is awkward and not always nice. But it sounds like at the very least he’s never outright insulted you. That’s more than Dan over in R&D can say,” Lucky said.

Pinfield. He was Pinfield. You were talking about him.

“Yeah, well, you crush on guys who actually give you the time of day. I crush on the silent guy who’s science is brilliant but who couldn’t be bothered with so much as a hello,” you said.

That wasn’t true, was it? He’d offered you help. And then gone back to not talking to you at all. He’d gone about this all wrong.

“Sorry, I shouldn’t take my frustration out on you,” you said.

“No, you should take it out on him.”

This was met with silence before Lucky’s laughter burst out, loud and long and he could inly imagine the look on your face. Not that he wouldn’t enjoy… He was sure it would be… Well, he was very open to it if the chance arose.

He slipped away to mull over what he’d overheard. He intimidated you. Because you had a crush on him. And you thought he didn’t like you in any way, that he didn’t even notice you.

Yeah, he’d fucked that one up. No one but himself to blame.

He paid attention for when you returned to your work station, across the other side of the room, quiet and focused. And beautiful. How hadn’t he thought that before? Or rather, how hadn’t he noticed it?

He was so caught up in his own assumptions about you he hadn’t taken the time to notice. He cursed his past self for being so caught up in his own ego to notice what was sitting right under his nose.

Steeling himself, he rose and made his way over to you. He loitered across the bench from you. You were still listening to music and hadn’t seemed to notice him. Tapping his finger on your notebook, he tried to get your attention. You looked up, startled, eyes widening when you laid eyes on him.

“I was thinking of going out for lunch and was wondering if you wanted to join me,” he said, trying to sound confident but also approachable. He realised he was treating you like an animal prone to startling.

“Oh, uh, I actually brought lunch today,” you said.

“Maybe tomorrow?” he asked, “I’d love to hear more about your work.”

“Why?” You sounded so bewildered it was almost offensive.

“I don’t know much about what you’ve been working on. Is it so odd I might want to know about it?” he asked.

“You’ve never asked before. Have I done something wrong? Because if I have I’m really sorry and I’ll stop doing whatever it is,” tumbled from your lips and he was reminded that you found him intimidating, “I really am sorry. If you just let me know what it is I can stop doing it.”

“You haven’t done anything wrong,” he was quick to say before you could continue rambling an apology for something that hadn’t happened, “I’m just interested in what you’re working on.”

“Why?” You sounded defensive now.

He sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. He was trying. He was really trying. And you just weren’t getting it. You were making it so difficult.

When he opened his eyes you were frozen, as if waiting to be told off. Taking a deep breath in, he offered you a smile, his best attempt as he tried to when he felt such roiling emotions.

“You’re an asset to our team and you’re working on things I’m not involved in. I’m curious. That’s all,” he said, desperate to put you at ease.

“Oh.” You voice was so quiet.

“If you don’t want my company I understand. I thought it would be nice to get to know one another a bit better. Whatever. I see I was wrong.”

He shoved his hands in his pockets and turned away from you. He must have misheard. Clearly you and Lucky hadn’t been talking about him.

“Wait,” you said. He paused, looking back at you over his shoulder, “lunch would be nice.”

His shoulders relaxed and he let the corner of his lips curl up in a small smile. Your answering one stole his breath.

“Come on then,” he said.

You hopped off your stool and he realised you didn’t even come up to his shoulder. He could wrap you up in his arms and you would be completely engulfed in him. He found that thought tempting.

Walking beside him as you left the lab, you weren’t looking at him, gaze turned towards your feet. His hand closed around your arm, steering you in the right direction. You looked up at him, eyelashes fluttering. His head dipped towards you, not able to stop himself. There was something about you.

He spent the entire lunch watching you, basking in your presence. You were slow to open up, answering his questions about your work softly. But once he got you going, your eyes sparked and the words tumbled from your lips faster than he could have thought possible. Your passion was clear and it only drew him in further.

“I dunno. Maybe’s its stupid,” you said, tucking some hair behind your ear.

“I don’t think it sounds stupid at all,” he said and noticed the way that seemed to turn you bashful. Your chin dipped and you couldn’t look at him. He lent forward again, over the table, trying to catch your eye, “you sound like you know what you’re talking about.”

It was a quick flash of a smile, that same piece of hair falling forward again. You reached up to tuck it back again but his fingers were already there, doing it for you. You looked up, mouth falling open but you didn’t seem to be drawing back from him. His fingertips brushed over your jaw before he retracted his hand, pulling it back to his side of the table.

“Oh,” you said, almost a whisper, practically nothing but the movement of lips without sound.

“I’d like to do this again,” he said, assuming honesty was better than beating around the bush.

The look of surprise that passed over your face wasn’t what he’d been hoping for. But then you softened, that small smile reappearing.

“Really?” you asked.

“Sure. I find myself fascinated by you,” he said.

“Like I’m one of your experiments?”

He hadn’t expected that.

“No. Christ no,” he said, perhaps louder than intended, “fascinated like I like you.”

“Oh.”

“Can you say something other than that,” he demanded, then realised that wasn’t a good idea, “please?”

“Okay,” you said, giving him a shallow nod, “we can do this again.”

“We can?” He brightened, “we can.”

“But only because I like you too,” you said, not looking at him again.

So he had heard right. He felt a sense of satisfaction hearing the words from you. He would never admit it, but it wasn’t often someone liked him. Maybe that’s why he’d been doing so badly with you. Or not so badly since you were going to go out with him again.

He led you back to the lab, hand resting on the small of your back, the material of your jumper soft against his skin. You were half a step closer, leaning into his touch more.

It was a good sign.

Thank god he’s listened in to your conversation with Lucky otherwise he never would have been able to find you. And he thought you might be changing his life for the better. Your smile was already capable of brightening his day.

He was excited to see what was to come with you.

#lars pinfield #lars pinfield imagine #lars pinfield x reader #request #anon

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heluvschibi · 5 days

Text

The Apocalypse: Intro...

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⚠️blood, mentions of su!c!de, jump scare? Cussing, mini panic attack(s)? (I think that's all, tell me if there is more.)

📄Please note that this is my first time writing anything zombie, horror, thriller, or apocalypse related.

👤I think the intro is pretty good. If you like it, please repost or like it. I kinda got writers block in the middle...sry

══════════°•°•°•⚠️•°•°•°══════════

Des:Living in my small apartment when the apocalypse started is not ideal, now I'm running low on food and water a necessary need for a living human... I have to leave...

words:1.2k

Y/n's POV

Chirp chirp chirp...

I woke up to the sound of birds, it almost felt normal until I actually opened my eyes, old newspapers and tape blocking the window, my room a complete mess. I stood up and stretched before walking to the mirror that had a crack on the top left. And as expected I don't look very presentable; my hair was tied in a ponytail with loose hairs here and there. I was wearing my favorite grey sweatpants and my black hoodie. I just decided to re do my ponytail before walking out to the shared kitchen and living room, this place was so clean. So clean to the point where if you even swiped your finger on the top of any surface, there would be no dust. But now my once clean-living space is now a mess, a show of neglect of how my life has been since the apocalypse started.

I strolled into the kitchen and opened up the upper cabinet to the left of my fridge: 1 packet of ramen, 1 cookie that was in a zip lock baggie, and 1 can of tomato soup...

I decided for my breakfast a tasty bowl of ramen, surprisingly after 2 months the gas wasn't turned off, but it's only a matter of time until... Click, click, click...

"Fire?" I turned the knob on the gas stove again, click, click, click...

"What the fuck-!" I covered my mouth. Stupid, stupid! Did I really forget that there are hungry zombies probably just chilling, waiting right now outside of my door?

I walked to the door and looked into the peep hole, I only saw the apartment a crossed from mines, the door closed with blood on the door, floors, and by the wall. I silently walked away, when a bang and a growling was heard, I jumped back falling on my butt, I let out a squeal and the banging continued, I started to sob silent, the door shaking from the impact of the zombie on the other side, I hurried and stood up wiping my tear and rushing to the door leaning all my weight on it...

6 minutes later...

The banging finally stopped, only low groaning and growls were heard, I slid to the floor shaking, I pulled my legs up to my face and hid them.

I wasn't made for this...

My stomach started to hurt before a weird grr noise, I stood up and rubbed my stomach with a frown.

I continue what I was doing before the situations just 6 minuets ago, I walked to the small coffee table and squatted down, pulling on one of the drawers when I found a box of matches. There was only 10 left, I took one of the red tipped matches out of the box and walked to the stove to light it.

I got one of the bottled waters from the closet and carefully poured the water into the small pot to let it boil.

I turned around and walked to the big window plastered with newspapers and tape, I peeled back on of the newspapers and peered through. I live on the 4th floor of this apartment unit. I peered down at the parking lot below, just two months ago these cars were all clean, parked perfectly. But now some cars had broken windows, blood smeared on some parts of the cars, or car doors open slightly. As zombies roaming around aimlessly, I noticed one of the zombies. An old man, he lived next to me, Mr. Kim.

I remember the first week here in Korea Mr. Kim and his wife made me so much food to the point my fridge was overflowing. I had to practically beg them to stop sending food, that my poor fridge couldn't hold all the food they were sending at one time. When they stopped sending food they started talking to me about their grandson Kim Seung Min and how he's single...I never met him myself, but they showed me pictures of him, I was flattered that they think I wanted to marry someone, flattered that they think I'm worth of marrying their grandson. I smiled remembering the happy times. Before this outbreak, disease, Z-B232, whatever you want to call it spread. Mr. Kim's screams and pleas of help still stuck in my head, playing on loop like a broken record, I covered my mouth and started crying. I could've done something...I should've done something, yet...I didn't I was curled up in a ball on my bed crying, praying that this would all stop, that this was all just a nightmare...

sss...

I turned around and the water was boiling over.

"Crap!" I whispered yelled, rushing through the living room to get to the kitchen stove and turned the nob to off.

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After cooking and eating the ramen, I stood up and took the dirty pot into the sink, tried to at least the sink is somewhat overflowing with dirty dishes, I let out a sigh.

"Why did the water have to stop working..."

I dragged my feet to the closet and peered down at where the water was supposed to be, but it wasn't there...

Oh no, did I use the last water...on RAMEN!?

I stood there looking down at the empty spot where the waters were supposed to be...

"No, no, no..." I stumbled back covering my face. "No..."

"I can't survive without water...I'll end up dying. How long is it...3 days without water, 21 days without food?"

Why live if we're all going to die someday, and I'm going to die in my dirty apartment, by thirst and starvation...

My eyes started to fill with tears, "Stop, stop crying!" I covered my face, wiping my tears.

I cranked my head and looked up at the ceiling fan, in the middle of the living room.

"Should I..." I mumbled out, turning my head back to the closet, a red rope. "It's the last resort...right?"

I reached put out a hand to reach the red rope and stopped.

"No... I'm not going to end myself like this..." I stood up.

"Don't get all depressed on me now Y/n, I need you for this journey..." I spoke. to myself.

I'm going to live through this outbreak... But my first priority on the list... Supplies...

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"Okay, this is it."

Flashlight, batteries, first aid, pocketknife, rope, black sharpie, can of soup, and the cookie.

I walked to my bedroom, going through everything, I looked through my closet, knowing something has to be in here, like the baseball bat my dad gave me for my 10th birthday, or the golf club one of my co-workers gave me.

And I found the golf club, score for Y/n!

I grabbed one of my blankets and folded it.

I zipped up the thick jacket I was wearing and changed my grey sweatpants to jeans. I put on my shoes and put both straps of the backpack over my shoulder before walking to the door, I looked out the peep hole, to make sure I'm clear, my golf club in hand.

I opened the door a little and peered out, looking left and right. I walked fully out of my apartment, a scared and thrilling chill went down my spine, I'm now not protected by the steel locked door or my walls anymore...

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??? POV

"Guy's me and Jeongin are going out, listen to Minho while I'm gone..."-Chris.

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I was so scared to post this...

Please don't be bad 🙏🏽😭

Have a good day/afternoon/night! -Chibi

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