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my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction · 2 months

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Play Pretend

Jake Lockley x F!Reader • Rating: 18+ pals •Masterlist• ao3• want to be tagged? | request info • MK Bingo 2024 Masterlist • ko-fi •

Summary: Jake doesn't have much experience in more... intimate matters.

🌛For @moonknight-events MK Bingo Spring 2024 Event🌜

A/N: Okay, so I'm not super happy with this. I don't know. Anyway, I feel like I'm always saying this but my head is really bad with editing atm. I'm sure I've missed so many typos. I'm so sorry.

Warnings: set in Steven's flat (UK), swearing, loss of virginity, p in v sex, fingering, oral sex (both m and f receiving), overuse of italics, typos, railroad sentences, please let me know if I've missed a warning!

Word Count: 4909

Jake shifted a little nervously as he rested his head on your chest, despite the comforting weight of your arm around him.

He was half laying on you as you were sitting on the sofa, his feet resting on the armrest as you both watched… something on TV. You watched, Jake just couldn’t focus. Even though he normally adored being snuggled up on the settee next to you, savoured any time you both had together.

He moved again, trying to keep it as minimal as possible so as to not bother you. Slowly he tensed and untensed his legs, switching it so that one was over the other and then back around again.

There was a deep heat growing at the base of his spine, an ache between his legs. He swallowed. Maybe he could excuse himself to the bathroom, rub one out quickly and then come back to your embrace without getting hard like a horny teenager just because you were close.

It was embarrassingly really. How often this happened. Sometimes you didn’t even have to physically be around, just smelling your scent lingering around the flat was enough at times. The feel of your jumper in the wardrobe when it brushed against his hand as he got dressed in the morning. The photo of you and Marc at the park on the side table. That time Steven accidentally used your shower gel instead of his own.

He shifted again. Maybe he could-

“You okay?”

He jumps despite the softness of your voice and turns his head quickly to look at you, a little wide-eyed. “Yeah?” He answers a fraction too quickly to be considered ‘okay’.

You give him a bemused smile. “You sure?”

“Hmmhmm.”

For a moment you pause, just cocking your head to the side ever so slightly as you regard him and Jack as to practically bite the inside of his cheeks to stop himself from groaning out loud. Why, oh why, did you have to look so adorable when you did that?

“You need to sneak off to the bathroom?” You ask innocently, but there’s a telltale mischief to your eyes that makes Jake’s blood run cold.

“I, erm, what are you talking about amor?”

You gesture with your chin to his not-so-subtle budge in Steven’s sweatpants.

“A…” He shifts again, thinking about grabbing a pillow to place over himself for a second before realising how silly that would be. You already knew what he was hoping to hide. “Maybe.”

You smile and kiss his cheek. “That’s okay, you can go. I’m not gonna judge you. You know I don’t want you to sit here and be all uncomfortable.”

“Hmm.” He gives you a small smile, a light dusting of pink highlighting his cheeks and the very top of his ears. “Sorry.”

You frown a little and speak kindly. “What are you sorry for, silly?” You lightly stroke the shell of his right ear as you talk, just brushing your fingers along the outside and tucking a few errand curls behind it.

He shivers. You know what you’re doing.

“For…” He gestures to his crotch and you giggle.

“I could…” You bite your lip a little a you speak and Jake pinches his thigh to keep control of himself. “Help you out with it? If you want?” There’s a little nervousness to your words, a worry of overstepping a boundary.

While you had been physical with Marc and Steven for a while now, the most you had done with Jake had been to kiss and hold hands. Not that you minded. Jake was his own person and you wanted to go at his pace, take your time with the more intimate side of things. Or, never have that kind of relationship with him at all. You were just happy to spend time with him.

He didn’t really like talking about that side of your relationship, and you didn’t want to push him.

Jake’s blush grew darker. “I… erm…”

You resisted the urge to gently tease him about his loss for words.

“I…” He closed his eyes, blurting out his words and screwing his face up afterwards. “I’m a virgin.”

“Oh.” You said in surprise. That certainly wasn’t what you expected him to say.

He opened his eyes quickly, a tense look of fear pinching at his features and you quickly realised your mistake.

“No,” you say quickly as you reach out and stroke his hands, embracing them in your warmth. “I mean ‘oh’ as in, ‘oh, I didn’t think you were gonna say that’, not ‘oh, that’s a problem’.”

The tension in his shoulders viably relaxed slightly and he gave you a weak smile. Looking down briefly at your hands and stroking your knuckles with his fingers.

“So… you’ve never done anything… sexual before?”

Your own tiptoeing around the word makes you wince.

“Just sort of kissing, I guess.” He looks up to you with his large, soft eyes. “Is that a problem?”

“No, no, no,” you say quickly, “no at all just… yeah, surprising.”

He raises an eyebrow at you.

“Well,” you nudge him playfully with your shoulder, “I don’t know if you know this, but you are very pretty.”

Jake snorts, grinning from ear to ear. “I’ve been told.”

You smile back at him before softly brushing his hair behind his ear again, savouring his little hiver. “You know we don’t have to do anything, right? There’s never any pressure, I want you to know that. I’m more than happy just to be with you like this. I love you, it doesn’t have to be physical.”

He nuzzles into your hand, kissing your wrist. “I know,” he whispers, “and thank you, for saying it out loud I mean.”

You stroke his cheek as he talks.

“It’s not that I don’t want to… and I know you’ve technically been with the body before, it’s just that…”

You stay quiet as you caress his face, letting him take his time.

“I don’t want to disappoint you.”

As the last words leave his lips a little crack forms in your heart.

“You could never disappoint me, Jake.”

He smiles but tuts. “You know what I mean… inexperienced isn’t exactly code for ‘giving their partner’s good time’, right?”

“I’ll have a good time no matter what because I’m with you.” You give him a soft kiss and he smiles.

“That’s not what I mean Amor,” but he kisses you again. “Thank you though, it’s just…” he pauses, thinking carefully on how best to explain himself. Out of the three of them Jake is always the one who thinks most about what they say before they say it. “It’s just, I didn’t want to just… be with someone for the sake of it, I wanted it to be with… someone special, someone I care about. And now…”

“You’re still waiting for that someone special.” You nod solemnly as you tease.

Jake glares at you playfully, ticking your side until you giggle and hold up your hands.

“Sorry, sorry,” you mutter between laughter.

“You should be.” He leans close and lightly nips at your neck. “Be thankful that I’m in a forgiving mood.”

You grin and kiss his nose.

“You are my someone special,” he continues sincerely, “and I want it to be enjoyable for you, I want you to…” he trails off and looks down for a second. You can see that hint of a blush returning.

“You want me to…?”

He bites his lip and swallows. “I want you to look and sound like you do with Marc and Steven.”

You smile cheekily. “You watch?”

He avoids your gaze. “Sometimes.”

“Sometimes?”

“Almost all the time.”

“Almost?”

“99.9%.”

“What’s wrong with the .0?” You say, pretend indignation in your voice.

“I’m sleeping.”

His matter of fact tone takes you by surprise and you laugh loudly.

“Fair enough.” You stroke his cheek again.

“You don’t mind?”

You shake your head. “Marc might. Maybe.” You shrug. “You’d have to ask him.”

“I’m definitely not doing that.”

“Steven won’t care.”

Jake nods. “That’s true. Exhibitionist that one, for certain.”

You laugh again and then pause as both of you look at each other for a long moment.

“Why don’t we play pretend for a bit? Help you relax and get out of your head?” You ask.

He thinks for a moment before he opens his mouth, a smirk on his lips. “I think it’s called ‘role play’ amor.”

You tut.

“All I’m saying is I shouldn’t be the one who knows more in this situation-” Jake yelps as you cut him off by tickling him this time. He jumps back from your reach and grins. “Unfair.”

You poke your tongue out at him.

Which he promptly returns before he smiles. “Alright, let's play pretend’.” He sits up straight on the sofa, his hands neatly in his lap as he waits for your direction.

You give him a brief suspicious look, Jake was never usually one to agree and behave without having some ulterior motive.

“Alright,” you say a little suspiciously as you settle down next to him. “You can stop this at any point you want, okay?”

Jake nods once.

“Okay, so,” you give him a little glance and see he’s listening intently. “I’m thinking, ‘where’s Jake the most comfortable?’”

“In bed.” He interrupts cheekily.

You snort. “No. I was going to say, driving.”

“Driving’s not very comfortable.”

“Jake-”

“Not here anyway, roads are tiny.”

“Jake-”

“And everyone’s an asshole.”

“Okay, that’s true.”

He grins.

“But, humour me, yeah?”

He nods. “Consider yourself humoured.”

“Alright, driving. So, we’re in the car, you're driving.”

“I’m on the wrong side.”

“Jake.”

“I’m on your left.”

“Well, we’re in America now.”

“How did we get here?”

“Jake.”

“Did we fly?”

“Jake.”

“Marc’s gonna be pissed if we don’t get some pizza, I can tell you that-”

You shut him up by kissing him deeply. While it may not always be the most convenient method of silencing him, it certainly is the most effective.

He kisses you back desperately, sinking into your embrace and bringing up his hand to lightly caress your cheek as you lick into his mouth.

You know why he’s talking so much. The action so unlike Jake. He’s nervous.

He moans softly as you pull back a fraction, trying to follow your lips.

“I should really be keeping my eyes on the road.” He teases, his voice low and wrecked.

“Well, it’s a good job we’re on the settee then, isn’t it?” You wrap your arms around him, pulling him closer and pressing your lips back to his.

You swallow down his softly whimpered moans and trail your hand down his chest. You keep the action slow, deliberate. So he has plenty of time to feel where you're headed, and to stop you if he wants.

You lightly palm his erection through his jogging bottoms and he hisses in a breath, his hips bucking up towards your touch as he keeps kissing you.

His hands wrap around you, pulling you closer as he trails his lips down to your jaw, pressing soft kisses along the bone before slipping further down to your neck.

You press a little harder, running your hand up and down his clothed length and massaging his heavy balls. His cock twitches under your actions, warm and throbbing.

Jake hisses in a breath, “please.” His voice is so quiet you almost can’t hear him, can distinguish his words from moans as he presses his lips to your skin and sucks lightly.

You tangle your free hand in his hair, pulling lightly at the curls to make him whine as you hook your fingers under his waistband and pull his trousers down.

Jake groans, squirming a little and lifting his hips quickly, grabbing hold of the material and yanking his boxers and jogging bottoms down to his knees, keeping his mouth at your neck the whole time.

The heat coming off his skin almost burns. Even without seeing his face you know that deep blush is back, the one that spreads across his skin like ink and makes you lightheaded from desperation for him.

Languidly you run the tip of your finger down his length, savouring the way his cock jumps and twitches under your attention. The head is ruddy and swollen, a bead of forming precum seeping out from the slit that begs you to swipe it away with your tongue.

You wrap your fingers around his girth, a not quite firm enough grip, and pump him twice in long, slow movements.

He sucks in a breath, shivering and muffling his moans against you, his fingers tightening on your side as if you’ll move away. As if you would ever want to leave him like this, aching and needy.

You dip your hand lower, massaging his balls again and the little sound Jake lets out is the sweetest thing you’ve ever heard.

“Fuck,” you breathe and quickly pull away from his hold.

Jake makes a small sound of distress for a moment, thinking you’re stopping, before he realises what you’re doing.

You lean down, taking hold of his cock and pumping him slowly as you lick along his tip with the flat of your tongue.

Jake groans, throwing his head back against the sofa and balling his hands into fists at his sides.

You repeat the action again, and again. Lapping at his slit and spreading his precum across your tongue.

He gasps, his thigh muscles twitching as he fights to keep still and not buck up into your mouth.

“This okay?” You ask between licks.

“Yes, ah, yes, really okay.” He whimpers, squirming a little and biting his lip. “Please don’t stop.”

“I won’t.” You whisper and lightly suck at his head, moaning as he slips into your mouth, and swirling your tongue around him.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” his hips buck up a fraction before he catches himself and forces them back down against the cushions. “Sorry,” his words are muffled as he grits his jaw, bites his lip and tries to not completely lose it after barely thirty seconds.

You hum, pressing your tongue flat against him and let yourself slide further down, swallowing and sucking on his greedily.

“Oh, shi-” he catches himself, fighting every instinct to give in and chase his pleasure. He bites his bottom lip hard, drowning in pleasure and not even trying to come up for air.

His sighs and pants echo around the flat as you move faster, sink lower, until he hits the back of your throat.

He gasps loudly, a string of swears thumping out of his throat in a rush.

Then suddenly, his hands are on your jaw, lightly lifting you back up and off him. “Stop, stop, stop,” he rushes the words together and you move back quickly.

Your mouth is barely off him before he’s pulling you into a searing embrace, his tongue dancing with your own and licking his precum from your lips.

“You, you,” he mutters, one hand pulling at your jeans and undoing the button. “You, need you,” you’re not sure if he even realises he’s speaking, his thoughts bypassing any check system and coming straight out of his mouth.

He pushes you back against the sofa and you let him, let his strong, warm hands guide you and push your jeans and underwear down your thighs just enough so that he can touch you.

He sighs loudly as he strokes between your legs, the sound almost as if you were the one touching him and not the other way around.

You moan his name, pulling at his shoulders.

“Show me, show me,” he mutters into your mouth, “please.”

You grab hold of his hand, pressing his thumb against your clit and showing him the soft circles you like. He follows your directions eagerly, his large dark eyes mesmerised as he watches.

When you press his fore and middle finger towards your slick entrance he moans again, gently pushing inside and shivering.

“You’re really wet.” He mutters, trying to control his breathing. Slowly he pulls his fingers out before pushing them back in, revelling in the sound your arousal makes. “Is that,” he repeats the action, his eyes flicking up to your face, “is that okay? Feel okay?”

You nod, keeping a gentle hold on his forearm. “Just, fuck, thumb’s great, just, sort of curl your fingers a little bit and-” Your sharp moan cuts over whatever you were going to say next as pleasure runs up your spine like lightning.

“Like that?” He whispers, his voice thick and heavy, his pupils blown wide.

You nod desperately, rolling your hips to chase the sensation of his fingers. “Like that.”

He groans a little, pressing closer so he can lightly kiss your neck, alternating between sucking at your skin and looking up to watch your face in a blissed out rapture.

“What made you so wet, hmm?” He mutters into your ear, rocking his hips against you so that his painfully hard cock rubs against your thigh.

“Fuck,” you hiss as the tips of his fingers brush perfectly inside.

“Hmm?” He asks needily, practically begging, as if he hasn’t got you at his mercy.

“You.” You manage to stammer out.

“Me?”

“You.”

“You like sucking my cock that much?” He groans, having to pinch his side with his free hand to stop his eyes from rolling back in his head.

You nod desperately, bucking up into his hand as you chase your orgasm. “Yeah.” Your voice comes out as a pathetic whine and Jake growls.

He watches you for a few more seconds, trying to keep hitting that spot that makes you mewl under him.

Suddenly, he stops, pulling back his hand and you practically sob, tugging lightly on his wrist to try to keep him inside of you.

“Jake,” a deep down part of you wishes you didn’t sound quite so needy, but most of you doesn’t care in the slightest.

“Put your mouth on me again please,” he mutters, his voice rushed and breathless as he urges you down towards his cock with his hand on your upper back.

You nod, moving quickly to lick a long stripe up the length of him that has him moaning like a whore.

You take him back into your mouth quickly, sucking him as deep as you can and further still. Jake’s whimpers spurring you on.

He keeps one hand on your back, nearly at the base of your neck, pressing down ever so slightly to guide your tempo. While he shoves his middle and forefinger into his mouth and groans at the taste of your arousal.

He moans loudly, his chest vibrating with the sound. “Amor,” his voice is thick, on the verge of breaking, “fuck you taste-” he gasps as you sink lower, your own sounds of pleasure echoing along his cock.

He bites back a sob. “Taking such good care of me, you taste so sweet,” he sucks on his fingers, desperately trying to find every single trace of your slink that he can. The wet sounds cut over your own, somehow louder in your ears than your racing heartbeat and your mouth around his hot, thick cock.

Jake’s eyebrows pinch together as the ball of pleasure starts to tighten uncontrollably in the base of his stomach, pushing him higher and higher and so close to tumbling off the edge.

“Amor,” he whines, biting his lip and gently pulling you off his throbbing cock for the second time.

A thin trail of salvia connects you for a brief moment. You pout a little at being coaxed away from him again, Jake savours your expression for a heartbeat before kissing your swollen lips once, twice. His hands on either side of your face, stroking your cheeks as he slips his tongue into your mouth and squirms in his seat.

He breaks the kiss briefly to tug off his own trousers, reconnects your lips with a groan and tries to get your jeans off without moving away again.

You chuckle lightly at his impatient scoff when it doesn’t quite go to plan. He scowls at your clothing, as if it was purposefully being difficult. Swearing lightly under his breath before looking down and tugging them off. You pull your top off at the same time, burning with need. Desperate to feel his skin against yours so keenly that it is almost to the point of pain.

“Lay back please,” he mutters as he tugs your legs free and clambers between your thighs. His hands dig in just enough to send a shiver along your nerves, twisting deeply at your core. His stubble grazing over your skin as he places sloppy kisses on your inner knee, trailing upwards and nipping lightly.

He moves hastily, forgoing any pretence of being able to hold himself together as he gazes at your aching pussy. He darts out his tongue, licking one long swipe through your folds and up to your clit, closing his eyes and moaning at the taste wantonly.

“Fuck, Jake, I-”

He plunges two fingers back inside you, curling them exactly how you instructed and you all but scream. Your breath stolen from you as he flicks his tongue against your clit, circling one way and then the other before latching on and sucking it into his mouth, trying to follow directions from hazy encounters he watched quietly in the headspace.

When you grab hold of his hair, your hips arching up into his mouth he groans, opening his eyes so that he can see the look of pleasure on your face. How you contort under his touch.

He sobs, rutting needily against the sofa, the expression on your face almost too much to bear.

You buck against him unthinkingly, your body taking over as you need to chase your high. His name falls from your lips in whimpered gasps, separated only but pleas and muttered praises.

You guide the back of his head, encouraging him to lap at you in time with your hips and he follows your directions instantly, pressing closer and moaning against you so much that the sensation nearly has you screaming.

Your thighs shake as you bite your lips together, muscles tensing and waves of pleasure begin to build and build and build, threatening to drag you down over the edge in one fell sweep and-

Jake pulls back quickly, the bottom half of his face shining with his slavia and your slick. You groan in frustration as he moves, but let go of him so as to not pull at his hair.

“Jake,” you say, a spike of irritation weaving through your words.

He moans at your tone, his eyes glazing over ever so slightly. “I’m sorry, please,” he rubs your thighs, kneading his fingers into your skin as his own hips rock and buck against nothing but the air.

His cock is red, leaking and almost painful looking with how hard he is. It bobs up and down with every movement, almost pleading with you to take pity.

“Please what?” You whisper.

Jake shuffles back into a sitting position, both feet flat on the floor. He looks at you a little uncertainly for a split second before he pushes the emotion down. “Please come and fuck yourself on my cock.” He says quietly, as if he was truly asking you for a favour and not letting you have everything you want.

You all but jump into his lap, pulling off the rest of your clothing and kissing him hard. He moans against your lips, following every movement desperately as he places his hands gently on your hips.

With the last fragment of your rapidly disintegrating self-control, you manage to pull away from him just far enough to speak. “You sure?”

It’s like he doesn’t hear you, too drunk on your touch for your words to make sense. He moves forward, trying to kiss you again. But you hold him back a little, pressing your hands against his cheeks softly but firmly until his eyes meet yours, his eyebrows pinched in puzzlement.

“Are you sure you want to do this? I don’t want to rush you, we can-”

“Please.” He practically sobs. The break in his voice at the end of the word rings so loudly in the room that you're surprised it doesn’t echo. You’ve never heard him so needy before.

“Please,” he repeats, “I want to, I want you. If… if you’ll have me, if you-”

You cut off any self-destructive thought that was destined to fall out of his mouth with your lips on his.

“If I’ll fucking have you,” you mutter against him, raising up on your knees and taking him in your hand. You line him up with your entrance before you sink slowly down.

Jake gasps, grabbing hold of you and squeezing you tight. His face pressed into your chest as you hold his shoulder, kiss his temple as you ease him inside.

He bites his lip, trying and failing to hold back a whimper, but succeeding in keeping his hips still.

You gently turn his face towards you by his chin as you bottom out, kissing his plump lips once, twice before you speak. “You okay?”

He nods, completely lost in the feel of you squeezing around him. “I’m not gonna last.”

“That’s okay,” you smile sweetly, stroking his hair.

But Jake shakes his head. “It’s not, I want you to-”

“Hey, hey,” you soothe, “I’m having a good time, okay?” You smile and gently take one of his hands and guide it between your legs to your clit. “Here, remember what I showed you?”

He nods, looking up at you like you painted the sky and quickly begins those soft circles that have you clenching around him and moaning softly.

He lets out a choked sob. “Can feel you.” He mutters. “Feel you… squeezing, and fuck, so warm, and wet, and tight and-” he swallows his words, groaning loudly, his eyes closing as you start to slowly move, using his shoulders for leverage.

His fingers don’t falter though.

The stretch of him is so good it burns, pressing hard and deep inside and threatening to crack you open at any given second.

You keep your movements steady, rising up and sinking back down, watching his every expression intently. The bob of his throat. The lines of concentration on his forehead.

His thighs shake, his lip so tightly between his teeth that it’s losing colour.

“You want me to go faster?” You whisper and he grounds, nodding rapidly.

You can’t help but smile as warmth runs along your veins. How much he trusts you to take care of him, how hard he’s trying to stay still.

You kiss him hard, forcing him to stop biting his lip and let out the sweet sounds he’s been trying to hamper. He takes hold of your face with his free hand, caressing your cheek as you slide your tongue into his mouth.

You pick up your pace, truly riding him and he moans.

“Amor…”

“Move with me.” You mutter, rolling your hips and encouraging him to buck up and do the same.

He whines, but nods, kissing you deeping as he fucks up into you as you set a brutal pace.

The slide of his thick cock makes your spine bend, your body moving on autopilot as you chase your high. Your breath catches in your throat as he hits deep. Your fingers tighten around his shoulders, digging into his sweat soaked skin.

Jake's eyes snap open, watching you intently and angling his hips to try to hit that spot again.

“Please, please, please,” he mumbles with every thrust, not sure what he’s asking for but knowing that he’s desperate for it.

You tense, your muscles clenching as bliss begins to burn at the edge of your vision. “Jake, Jake, fuck.”

“Yes, please, please,” he moans, obsessed with how your lips part, your eyes shut as you get close, “please.” His thumb swirls messily over your clit, slick with sweat and your wetness, he pushes you closer.

The slap of skin is nearly as long as both of your moans as you bounce relentlessly on his cock, his balls slapping against your ass cheeks.

Stars begin to swell behind his eyes, pleasure spiralling in the base of his spine. “I can’t, I’m gonna- please!”

It’s a sobbed beg that pushes you over the edge. How desperate he is for you. How needy. How shamelessly open with what he wants.

You swear as pleasure crackles over your skin, burns through your veins as you come. Jake groans loudly, following you a fraction of a second later and gasping as you squeeze his cock, milking him for every last drop he has to spend.

He buries himself deep, pressing his face into your chest. For a second he’s weighty, floating somewhere high above everything, somewhere warm and safe.

And then your hands stroke his arms, your lips kiss his sweaty forehead, and he can feel you, your warmth, your everything holding him tight and keeping him safe.

“You okay?” You stroke his hair softly and smile when he looks up at you.

He nods and grins, pressing his lips to yours in a long, soft kiss. “I think I like play pretend amor.”

You snort. “Oh, do you?”

“Hmm, we’ll have to do it again.”

____________________________________________

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kaciidubs · 6 months

Text

Binge Watch [Season 2 - Episode 1]

-🪼 [Jellyfish nonnie]

❣ Summary: You had plans to watch the new season of Jujutsu Kaisen with Jisung - turns out he had something else he'd rather do. ❣ ❣ Word Count: 880 ❣ Warnings: Slight Dom! Reader, Sub! Jisung, smut, fluff, slight humor, no anime spoilers, oral [fem receiving], desperation ❣ ❣ Female! Reader [No use of Y/N] | You/Your pronouns ❣ ❣ Additional Tags: Han is referred to as Jisung, Ji, Sungie, and baby, Reader is referred to as Jagi, and baby, lightly edited ❣ Stray Kids Masterlist ❣ General Masterlist

"I promise I'll still listen to the show!" He said.

"You won't even notice I'm there, please, Jagi." He begged.

Of course, you and your hubris went on to believe that Han Jisung was capable of multitasking while his head was between your thighs; which turned out just as you thought it would.

"Ji, can you be a little- mm, fuck, you be a little quieter? I can't hear the TV if you keep moaning like that."

You'd barely gotten into the first episode of the newest season of Jujutsu Kaisen and your oral-obsessed boyfriend had already made himself at home between your legs.

After arduously avoiding spoilers as best as you could, today was the day that you both would camp out on the couch in the living room and binge watch all of the episodes that were released.

That is, until he cuddled next to you with those pouty lips and round, pleading eyes as he begged for a quick round before you got started. Of course you denied him, knowing that if you'd given him the pass, then you wouldn't be watching any episodes until well into the afternoon.

No, today was binge watch day, and you would be vigilant and stand your ground against anything that tried to sway your plans.

That vigilance folded like origami the moment he said he'd do all of the work, and turned out to be a beautiful crane when he revealed that all he really wanted to do was give you head.

So, here you were; pajama shorts and panties in a pile on the floor, a couch pillow tucked under your head as you laid across the sofa with Jisung settled perfectly between your legs, lips already shining with your arousal.

"Mm, 'm sorry," he mumbled against your pussy, lifting his head to take a shivering breath, "you taste so good, I can't help it."

"Yeah, well, keep it down - we're missing crucial plot here and there's no time to rewi- Oh my god-"

You tossed your head back onto the pillow it was resting on, a shiver coursing through your body as his tongue met your pussy clit yet again, flicking and swirling around the bud like second nature.

"J-Ji, I'm serious, we made a p-promise!" Despite the discouraging whine in your voice, your hand made its way to the crown of his head, threading your fingers through his hair and tugging at the strands.

"I-" He released himself from your cunt with a wet slurp, "-said that I would listen, you're the one who's supposed to be watching!"

A flash of colors caught your peripheral, and you turned your head to catch the action happening on the screen - fully invested into the anime once more until you felt Jisung sliding a finger inside of you.

"I thought you only wanted to eat me out, mister." You tried to tease, though your pretty words lost their influence when he slid a second alongside the first, massaging you in a way that made your eyes roll.

You tried your best to focus on the show again, truly you did, but the unrelenting lapping of your boyfriend's tongue along with the steady thrusts of his fingers made dividing your attention ultimately useless.

"Just like that, baby - oh, fuck, your tongue feels amazing."

You could feel him melt at your praise, doubling his efforts and pressing his face impossibly deeper into your pussy - you weren't even sure if he was able to breathe at this point, but he didn't seem too bothered by it.

It wasn't too long until your legs were trembling, fingers tightening in his hair as you found yourself riding his fingers and mouth.

"Y-Yes, yes! Ji, I'm gonna come- 'm gonna come!"

He curled his fingers, flicking his tongue against your clit and sending you tumbling over the edge with a broken moan.

Jisung groaned blissfully, drinking you up like you were an ice cold bottle of water after days in the desert; eager tongue licking around his fingers as they tried to coax more of your cum out of you.

He mumbled something against your clit and you snorted out an airy laugh, "Didn't anyone teach you not to speak with your mouth full, baby?"

Loosening your grip on his hair, you watched as he lifted his head from the glory that was between your thighs, face flushed and eyes fogged over in a happiness only a few things could give him.

"We'll have to rewatch the first episode again," he rasped, making a show of licking his shiny lips, "because I definitely wasn't listening to it."

You rolled your eyes, registering the sound of the outro theme playing through the speakers, "Fine, but you better keep your mouth to yourself, you hear me? If you're good then maybe, maybe, I'll let you fuck me after episode five." Emphasizing your point, you clenched your walls around the fingers that were still inside of you, smirking when his jaw dropped.

"Can I eat you out again if we make it through the second episode?"

Grabbing the remote to the TV, you pressed the back arrow and watched the progress bar rewind itself, "I don't know, we'll have to see when we make it to the second episode."

✧. ┊Tagged lovelies: @goblinracha, @having-an-internal-crisis-rn, @midnightfrog625, @anyhow-everything, @bangchanbabygirlx, @sweetracha, @j-onedrabbles, @happilydeepestwonderland, @nightimescapes, @caitlyn98s, @ch4nn13luv, @ihrtlix, @sometimesleeknows, @jeonjungkookenthusiast1997, @instabull, @maximumkillshot, @bandolls, @y-ur--i, @acker-night, @dreamescapeswriting, @sunnyhonie, @specialstay, @broken-glowsticks, @s00buwu, @all4innie, @dancerachaslut, @junglyric, @tinyelfperson, @jj-stay, @katsukis1wife

✧. ┊If your username is in bold italics that means tumblr won't let me tag you. If you’d like to be added to the taglist, fill out this form!

#skz smut #stray kids smut #han jisung smut #han jisung x reader #jisung x reader #jisung smut

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twisted-lover-boys · 11 months

Text

Getting caught on Beans Day! (Monster edition)

{not proof-read}

It’s implied that the reader is on opposite teams so have fun with that! I tried to go simple because, if I didn’t, I would’ve absolutely gone ham and it would’ve taken me forever.

And yes, I made the text monster/farmer colored you’re welcome lol—

[Farmer edition] -> Right here!

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🐍🐺🏹🐙🐍🐺🏹🐙🐍🐺🏹🐙🐍🐺🏹🐙🐍🐺🏹🐙

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God you hated this. It’s was enough that you were opposite teams from your boyfriend Jamil, it was another to be completely ghosted by your teams mates! This sucked!

Every crunch of the leaves underneath you, every chirp of the birds from the trees kept you on edge. You’d have no idea where the vice dorm head was and you wouldn’t know until it was too late

And speak of it, you suddenly found yourself under a monster net. Your weapon and beans were thrown away from you as you were trapped. Welp, it was nice while it lasted

You had all but accepted your fate while you heard an all too familiar laugh. You look up and, lo and behold, your boyfriend Jamil stood above you. Yeah, it was nice while it lasted

“It seems I caught myself a little snake.” He teased. “Yeah? Well, whatcha gonna do with me?” He laughed and released the net. “Since I love you, I’ll give you a 5 second head start, little snake.” You had barely gotten up before he started counting

You bolted, only being able to grab your gun and maybe like 2 pieces of ammo. You didn’t bother to look back since you knew Jamil would be right behind you. Oh, you were so getting him back afterwards!

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It was one thing to be be alone in a monster heavy area, it was another to know that amongst their ranks was your wolf boyfriend Jack. If you knew him, he’d immediately start seeking you out once he was ready

Luckily, that moment had yet to come…key word being yet. You had taken out a bunch of monsters and were plentiful in ammo but the tables could easily be turned by your competitive partner

You were so lost in thought that you didn’t hear the trees rustling above you until you were slammed against the trunk of one, your weapon and ammo falling away from you. You looked up and were met with the animalistic eyes of your aforementioned partner

“Sorry, love. I didn’t hurt you did I?” Forgetting that you were on opposite teams, you nodded. “Yeah, I’m fine.” Then, he smirked. Uh oh. “Good, because now I don’t intend on being soft with you.” He stepped back before stretching and counting. You knew exactly what that meant

You grabbed whatever you could and ran. You knew you couldn’t outrun him, but you sure could try. Man, what a delusion. You’d have to make a plan to get back at him soon

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What your luck. If only Rook was on your team, maybe the you’d have better luck at winning but nOoO, he just HAD to be on the monster team. What great luck!

Your boyfriend was a master hunter and you knew it. He could show up around any corner or he could be watching you right now and you wouldn’t know! It freaked you out! Like, you love him but you wanna win!

Every sound you heard left you on edge but nothing could have prepared you for the whizzing of a net coming from above you. You launched your weapon and ammo away from shock. You knew who caught you from the laugh you’ve come to love

“There you are, mon amour! I was hoping to find you.” Rook said gleefully. “Well, you did. So, gonna tag me out now?” You taunted. The hunter could feel your sour mood but he hoped his little activity would make you feel better. Spoiler, it wouldn’t

He released the net before leaning in close to you, his lips against your ear. “Run.” And with that, you bolted. You knew this would happen, you really did! And yet the actual thing gave you an adrenaline burst. Oh you are so getting payback afterwards

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You knew your boyfriend Azul wasn’t the most fit, yet you also knew that he was a tactical genius. There’s no way he already hadn’t come up with a scheme to take out at least half of the farmer team

The only thing you really could do was stay on your toes and that’s exactly what you did, watching out for traps and random groups of monsters. You did very well…for a while

You weren’t paying attention as you stepped on a net. You only noticed when you were pulled upwards and constricted, you ammo and weapon falling beneath you. As much as you loved the cephalopod, you wanted to punch him right now

“There you are dearest! I was hoping to run into you.” Although his words sounded happy, his tone was more akin to teasing. He had the upper hand and made sure you knew. You sighed. “Alright ‘Zul, you win. Happy?” The man only tsked and released the net

“I’m not a fan of an easy win. I’ll give you 5 seconds to run as far as you can before I bean blast you. Oh! And remember, my blaster has a very far range~” That was all the warning you got before you bolted. He literally thought of everything. You just hoped the tweels would do you justice. And if not? Well, guess you’d better write up some payback plans

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🐍🐺🏹🐙🐍🐺🏹🐙🐍🐺🏹🐙🐍🐺🏹🐙🐍🐺🏹🐙

==================================

#twisted wonderland #twst #twisted wonderland imagines #twisted wonderland x male reader #twst x male reader #octavinelle #savanaclaw #scarabia #pomefiore #jack howl #jack howl x gn reader #azul ashengrotto #azul ashengrotto x gn reader #jamil viper #jamil viper x gn reader #rook hunt #rook hunt x gn reader

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melodygatesauthor · 1 year

Text

The Moon Boys and Periods

Moon Boys X f!Reader

For my dear friend @welcometostayingawake, and any other friends that may be dealing with this lovely problem that plagues us all ❤️

Summary: Headcanons of the first period the Moon Boys experience with their SO.

Tags/Warnings: SFW, period fluff, fluff, that’s pretty much it, just a comfort fic, I did NOT edit this

Word Count: 1.2k

Steven

You woke up with the pain in your abdomen that could only mean one thing, you started your period.

Steven would be all smiles when he opens his eyes, as he usually is when waking up next to you in the morning.

When he sees that something isn’t quite right with you, while you’re making small whimpers and hunched in pain, he immediately goes into stuttering Steven panic mode.

“Are you alright, love? What’s wrong?” He’d say with his eyebrows knitted together tightly.

You would start by telling him not to touch you, feeling not only over-stimulated but a little embarrassed that you started your period for the first time in front of him. You’d thought you had one more day.

“Oh…” Steven would say as he realized what was happening.

He’d never been with someone while they were on their period and didn’t know the proper protocol. Did he buy you chocolates? Flowers? Make you tea? Cuddle you all day with your favorite films on the telly?

All of it, Steven is doing all of it.

“No Steven.” You’d start with. “I’m just going to go home and take some Tylenol. I don’t even have any hygiene products to take care of the problem.”

Steven’s absolutely not having it. His rare demanding side comes out, rendering you completely speechless.

“Now that’s quite enough of that, Darling. Don’t be ridiculous. I’ve got a heating pad, yeah? I’m going to put that on you and run you a hot bath. While you’re in the tub I’ll run to the store and get what you need and then we’ll get you fixed right up.”

You simply can’t protest with that can you? So you just nod with a soft, “ok” while he sets you up with a heating pad.

In short order, you’re being made to get in the tub, while Steven takes your clothes with the intention to get them washed.

When Steven returns, he has so much stuff. He has flowers that he ever so sweetly places in a vase next to the bedside to brighten your day, he has chocolates, he has crisps in case you want something salty, he has tea, and he even brought you a change of clothes from your apartment. He even got both pads and tampons because he wasn’t sure which you preferred.

“When you’re done in the tub, let me know and I’ll make you a hot cup of tea, yeah?”

“Yeah.” You’d say with the biggest smile.

Marc

Similarly to when you were with Steven, it starts with that sharp nagging in your stomach.

Marc immediately thinks it must be something very seriously wrong with you to be whimpering the way you are.

“Baby, baby are you ok? Do you need me to take you to the hospital?” He would ask first and foremost, a harsh panic in his tone.

“Um, no, I’m fine, I just. I just need to go home and get some Tylenol and stay there.” You’d say.

Unlike Steven, Marc takes your word for it and will assume that you know what you need better than he does. However, when you insist on taking public transit, rather than letting him drive you, his more protective side comes out.

“No, I’m driving you. Look at you, you can hardly stand.” He’d say.

He would be right, you were holding on to the wall in the apartment holding your abdomen tenderly.

“I don’t want to bleed in your car.” You would protest.

“It’s gonna take a lot more than a little blood to bother me baby, but if it would make you feel better we can put down a towel.”

Marc would then get you to your apartment and help you inside. When you say, “I’m fine, you can leave now.” He’d respond with, “not a chance, where do you keep your cups?”

You’d point him in the right direction to find the things required to fill you with water and Tylenol. While he was getting everything together, including setting up your pillows and blankets comfortably, you’re taking care of yourself in the bathroom.

Marc doesn’t leave all day, even when you tell him he doesn’t have to stay. He loves you, and wants to make sure you’re comfy and have what you need.

At the end of the day, you know he will go anywhere if you need him to, and would do so happily.

Jake

Pain once more, but this time you’re waking up next to Jake Lockley.

Jake hasn’t found something yet that his kisses couldn’t fix for you, and so he wastes no time pressing his lips to yours softly.

While you appreciate the gesture, and you do love kissing Jake, it doesn’t change the fact that you are uncomfortable, and he’s not helping.

“Tell me what you need cariño.” He would insist, wondering if he’s out of his league. This feels like a Steven problem, he would think, but Steven and Marc are out at the moment, leaving him to take care of you.

“I just need to get back to my apartment and get some Tylenol. I’m just going to stay there I think.” You’d say, groaning as you sit up.

Just like Marc, he’s insisting on driving you, and just like with Marc, he doesn’t give two shits about a little blood. He’s seen plenty of it to last a few lifetimes.

The difference is that Jake is getting you there in half the time, and he’s making sure no one bothers you on your way into the building.

“I’m all set Jake, really, you can go home now.” You would say once you were inside.

He would tip up your chin with his gloved finger and kiss you softly. “You’re not getting rid of me today hermosa. Go run yourself a nice hot bath. I’ll be back in a little while.”

While you were in the bath, Jake would go to the store and scour each aisle with a furrowed brow. The man that was normally so in control, felt powerless for the first time. He didn’t know what to do.

However, he would have no qualms about asking someone what women need on their period.

One of nearly everything. Jake is coming home with one of almost everything from the drugstore that the clerk suggested, or so it would seem. Tampons and pads in every size and type. Do you like chocolate? Doesn’t matter, you can start your own factory now. Did you want to open a pharmacy? Because you have enough ibuprofen to supply a small army. Any period you have from now until the end of your days is accounted for.

Jake would then cuddle you for hours while you fall asleep to the sound of his beating heart with your head on his warm chest.

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jamminlocks · 1 year

Text

Special Pudding {Osamu M. x Reader}

Tags: F/M, Food, Fluff, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Soft Miya Osamu, confession, one shot, not beta read, pretty much idiots in love word count: 2,987 Summary: In summer days, you decided to make chocolate pudding for yourself. Not really trying to hide it. By chance, Osamu spots you eating some. The moment he had that first spoonful in his mouth, Osamu has liked your chocolate pudding since and from then on wants more. A/N: idk i just wrote this for fun edit: fixed some stuff [ao3]

•~°~•~°~•~°~•~°~•~°~•~°~•~°~•~°~•~°~•~°~•~°

"Is that pudding?" Osamu asks, pointing at the moist container in your hands. It is, indeed, pudding. Not just any pudding, not pudding that's bought in the store, or something your parents made, It is your pudding, chocolate pudding. In the past weeks, you have been obsessively trying your hand in making some for yourself, mostly to stave off the summer heat. After many attempts, this was the best one. For a split second, you hesitated answering him, not wanting to share your hard earned work. Then, the thought of wow-ing Osamu with your new found specialty dessert pops up.

"Yeah, I made it. You want some?" You offer it to him. He stares at it, undecided and unimpressed.

"I dunno... it looks kinda bad."

"Oh c'mon! Since when did you pass the offering of free food?" you argue, scooping a spoon of the pudding and holding it up for Osamu. He suspiciously looks at you, more to just get an annoyed reaction. The spoon is taken from your hand and he slides it in his mouth. Once the spoon is gone, his jaw moves in a steady motion. Eyes close, focusing on the tastes. A small smile creeps on each corner of his mouth.

“See? I made good pudding.”

"Free food? More like a free sample if you're just gonna let me have one spoon." he digs the spoon into the pudding. Now, you are annoyed, "just a second ago you basically called it weird looking."

"And I'm coming back for another bite. Take it as a compliment."

You roll your eyes. "Fine, you can have more, here."

He also holds of the container of pudding, not tugging it away from you, taking one spoon after another. It's the first time you let Osamu eat anything you made and you are very, very glad that he likes it. Happy as you are, the pudding is already half empty and you've barely dug in yourself. Osamu is using your spoon after all.

"Hurry up! I wanna eat"

A muffled sound of reluctant agreement slips out of hus mouth, but he takes another spoonful before he returns it to you.

“Got anymore?”

“Last one. Sorry”

Osamu frowns as he watches you eat, like a child denied a cone of ice cream. It's clear that he'll be waiting for you to get enough then get some more again. You couldn't laugh properly, only chuckling with your mouth stuffed and closed. “Next time, when I make one I’ll save some for you.”

"Yeah?"

"Sure, why not?"

-◇-◆-◇-◆-◇-◆-◇-◆-◇-◆-◇-

As you spend more time experimenting and trying new recipes of desserts, you keep coming back to the chocolate pudding, youre practically perfecting it. Osamu always wants some when you tell him. A tupperware of pudding would be saved for him and you'd give it to him. He'd return it by the end of the week. The fastest was the day after you gave it to him. You often wondered if he even shares it with Atsumu and you hoped he did. Nothing wrong with someone else enjoying your food. That was until the blond twin ran up to you out of nowhere with furious determination.

"WHY DIDN'T CHA TELL ME THAT YER GIVING 'SAMU PUDDING??" he asked accusingly. Somewhat offended.

You squint, "wait, doesn't he share with you?"

"NO! He's been hiding it behind other stuff in the–"

"THAT'S 'CAUSE YA ALWAYS STEAL THE STUFF I BUY AND EAT THE FIRST THING YA SEE IN THE REFRIGERATOR!!" Osamu comes running up behind his brother. Roping him into light wrestling.

"THAT'S NOT TRUE," Atsumu claims but his voice falters with each movement.

"LIER!!! STOP BOTHERING HER ‘BOUT THIS!” The fight goes on. It's relatively tame compared to their other fights. You aren’t too worried about anything getting serious. Backing up a little to avoid any elbows and fist coming your way, you patiently wait for the brothers to cool down on their own.

“YOUR A GREEDY LITTLE SHIT THAT EATS FOOD THAT AIN’T YERS!”

"SAYS THE BASTARD WHO’S BEEN HOGGING AN ENTIRE CONTAINER OF PUDDING ALL TO YERSELF!"

But it seems the two are nowhere stopping from this. There is too much destructive energy emanating from them. You made a gable on your safety by placing a hand on each brother’s shoulder then pushing them apart.

"OKAY! OKAY! THE BOTH OF YOU SHUT UP!" they hesitantly stop, still scowling and sneering at each other with their eyes.

“Would you both quit it if I just made you two then? One for each of you.”

They are silent, more to give the other a cold shoulder than not having an answer. Atsumu pouts, crossing his arms, “sure. But I still can’t believe you were only giving him this entire time.”

“Well, sorry about that.” you said, actually feeling bad about leaving him out of it.

“Don’t. He’s a big pig”

“WHY YA LIL-”

You give them a harsh slap on their shoulders.

-◇-◆-◇-◆-◇-◆-◇-◆-◇-◆-◇-

On the occasions that the twins know you were making your chocolate pudding, you save two tupperwares for them. It was extra work but if it’ll keep them from complaining, that's extra peace of mind in your life. You are quite delighted that Atsumu enjoys it too. But, if you aren't assuming too much, Osamu seems to like it more. You aren’t surprised. Twins still have their own separate set of preferences. It's just that Osamu liking it more always makes your chest flutter. It’s embarrassing, you’d rather he not notice when you try to hold back a big smile.

Eventually, you began to grow tired of the sweet dessert and decided to stop for a while. You still loved it, but having too much too often wears off its specialness. It wasn’t really a big deal, that was until Osamu out of nowhere leaned his chin over your shoulder, arms around your waist, and asked, "Hey, when are ya gonna make chocolate pudding again?"

It confuses you, not really considering that he would notice that you’ve stopped. You put some thought into it. Will you make it? Not really in a mood for pudding, although you don’t mind if Osamu is asking. “It's almost winter and you still want some?”

“I mean, can I?” he said, uncharacteristically shy of him. It's kinda cute. But, you're not letting yourself be fooled if this is his way of persuading you. "You're gonna pay for half of the ingredients if you want me to make some.”

In an instant, he straightens up. Swirling you to face him and he looks at you with at most seriousness. “How much?”

You laugh, ruffling up hus gray hair for fun. "Come with me later to buy them. We can sort it out then”

His eyes practically glowed at your answers. And he does go with you to the market the day after, carrying the basket of ingredients as you pick and choose.

“Do ya really need this much when ya make yer pudding?”

“Yeah, I’m making it for Atsumu too.” The smile on his face disappears at the mention of his brother. He must really not like sharing his food with Atsumu. But its not like he needs to. After all, they get their own. He said, much like suggesting a bad idea he knows you'll deny, “Can you, like, not?”

“Don’t be like that. You two will fight again.”

Osamu knows you had a point. Still, he isn’t on board with it, glaring at the floor. The part of your heart that has a soft spot for the mellower twin weavers. “How about this, you get more cream on top than him. Sounds good?”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah, I can do that. It will cost you more though”

His arm wraps around your shoulder as you two walk through the milk aisle together, holding the basket on the other hand. “Fine by me.”

-◇-◆-◇-◆-◇-◆-◇-◆-◇-◆-◇-

For the next few years, your chocolate pudding has been in his top 20 in the desserts category, which means a lot since the guy can't seem to choose a single favorite food if anyone were to ask him. When the opportunity opens itself, he asks you to make some. Despite your differing schedules, very often, if not all the time, you do follow through. When you can't, he gets sad, which is adorable of him.

So, it's practically a given whenever you visit, there's a chance you have some with you. However, not once has he ever questioned why you do it without asking anything in exchange. The answer is always that it's not like it's an official service of yours. It was enough that he paid more than half the price. Plus, he is your friend, nothing wrong with doing favors for a friend. Though all of that is true, you just like how happy and satisfied he is with your pudding every time he takes a bite. And, well, you just really like Osamu and spending time with him.

This time around, the occasion is MSBY Jackals having a match in Hyogo. In celebration that Atsumu is in town, the team will have dinner in Onigiri Miya. At Atsumu’s request, you bring your chocolate pudding and he’s paying for it. Lucky for him, you are free that week. Osamu, on the other hand, took the chance to ask for more.g

"Could you make me extra pudding too?" He asks while you are on a call with him and it makes you laugh. "You missed my chocolate pudding that much?"

"It's hard not to miss good food" he states.

Out right implying that your dessert is one of his many likes is a sentiment you'll hold on to. You endearingly sigh to him through your phone. "Alright. That does mean you'll pay for your portion."

"Alright," he said, satisfied. Static sounds of clanking blurs his voice. "Don't tell 'Tsumu, by the way."

"Sure. But, don't get mad at me if he finds out, though."

"Never had been, have I?"

"That's true."

-◇-◆-◇-◆-◇-◆-◇-◆-◇-◆-◇-

The celebration comes and by the end of the night the chocolate pudding was as good as gone. A hit among the players. Their captain took three servings, so does Bokuto. When you offer one to their aloof member, Sakusa, it takes a bit of convincing. In the end, he eats some, giving you a mere 'its good', which is a big deal according to Atsumu. Hinata was lucky to get the last serving. You didn't even get a bite of your efforts, so it was a good thing that Osamu requested more. As promised, you didn't tell Atsumu of the extra stash of pudding you and Osamu hid. Once the restaurant closes and Atsumu is long gone with the rest of his team, you and Osamu head back to his place to eat the hidden treasure to end the night..

Fresh from the cool fridge, you both take your own servings of the chocolatey treat. Osamu is as happy as ever with each spoon of pudding he places in his mouth.

"didn't you eat a lot of this already? I'm surprised you could stuff yourself more with that," you point your spoon to him.

"Nothing wrong with extra dessert"

"You sure you won't get your stomach hurting?"

He laughs, a low rumble on his chest. "What am I, a kid?" Osamu doesn't give you the chance to answer, shifting his attention to the dessert at his hands, reveling at its taste.

"I might just kiss you for how good these puddings always are."

"Haha, sure," you say. Not fully registering what he just said, what you just said. Once it settles in, your skin spikes up into a panic, doing your best to not look at him and shoving a spoon in your mouth. Why did you say that? Why did he say that? That was definitely a joke.

"For real? I can?" He asks, clear and genuine.

The sirens are wailing at you to 'play it cool'. It's just a teeny-tiny kiss. You've had friends kiss your cheeks before. Osamu won't be any different. You may like him but he is still your friend too.

"Yeeeeeeahhh. Suuuuuuure," voice slightly stilted, waving a hand to downplay the situation. Just you merely entertaining the notion. In the grand tapestry that is your friendship, it's just a small thing that won't cause an unraveling. You close your eyes. No way you are looking at him. Placing a finger over your cheek, you say, "right over he-"

Osamu pecks you right on the lips. Your body stiffen up. The stickiness of the small bit of cream lingers. Without much of a big reaction from him, he says "Thank you for the pudding" and returns to focus on staring down on the pudding to scoop another spoonful.

"wah- why'd you do that" you ask, breathless from a single peck that barely lasted a second.

"Ya said I can, didn't ya?"

"ye. YEAH. BUT-" you're at a loss for words. everything is mixing up at a blender's speed. Confusion. Giddiness. Flabbergasted. Embarrassment. And you're quaking like a blender too. The only thing that's keeping you from losing sanity is Osamu's slowly blushing cheeks, proof that he is affected by it too. How is he so nonchalant about this, though? You place the serving of pudding over the kitchen table to save it from your slipping grip.

Taking another spoon of pudding in his mouth. He hums the way he always does when he likes the food he is eating. You could only stare, still confused. "This is so good," his words slightly garbled. Osamu turns to you, assessing your expression. Then, he dives back to kiss again before you can do anything. Just as quick as the first, like he is testing your lips. The softness of his gesture somewhat tickles you. “Really good.”

“Hey!” you try to catch his attention. “Why’d you– how are you–” words come out as blubbering and disjointed. Face heating up with each tumble your tongue takes. You don’t understand how unfazed he is right now, having just kissed you twice. Is it not a big deal to him? Is he toying with you? The initial startling fades as your mind ponders the sad possibility. Osamu is quick to notice your silence, setting his pudding down beside yours.

“Oh, are ya mad?” He said with sincere concern, bumping his arms to you as a means to comfort. What exactly do you say to him? Should you get mad? You sigh,

“I’m– It’s because– Are you just messing with me, Osamu?”

“A lil bit.” he admits, though not seeing it as big of a crime as you do.

“It's just ‘cause ya said I can, so I…” He strays, placing his rough hand at the swell of your cheek, bringing you to face him. You can see that he’s searching for his words too. Thumb brushing you with a new warmth he has never done before. “And I’ve really wanted to do that for a while now.”

Not able to wrap your head around his confession, doubt lumped up in your voice, you ask “you have?”

Osamu removes his hand away from your cheek. Straightening himself up to face you. He takes your hand, cupping it between both of his own, as if giving you a secret you can’t see just yet. Gentleness in his eyes with a tender smile. He shares his truth. "I like ya for a long while now.”

It's a sweet and honest truth. It all bubbles up into you breathily laughing, leaning your head on his shoulder as he keeps you balanced. The scent of rice still clings to his black uniform. He hums along with you.

You say, "couldn't you have said that first?"

"uh," he laughs softly. "Sorry. Guess I got too excited." The tension in the kitchen dissipates with each laugh. Osamu takes your pudding from the table, scooping in it with his spoon. You are still at the height of his confession to point out that it's your pudding he is about to eat from. He raised the spoon to your mouth.

"Eat up. to calm ya nerves a bit."

You can only oblige. The sweetness is soothing, cleansing away any remaining nervousness you had. Osamu is careful to slide it off your lips before digging it in your pudding again.

“Atta girl,” he purrs, brushing your hair behind your ear as you slowly chew. It's new, this kind of affection coming from him, but you welcome it nonetheless.

You have something to say before he leans in again. "WAI-" is all you could muster as his lips are on yours for the third time, a little longer, a lot firmer. Fingers on your chin. He eases you into a slow kiss. Three kisses and an indirect one. He really is taking his shots.

When you pull away, you lightly burst out “seriously??”

Osamu chuckles, pulling away to take both puddings on each hand and handing yours to you. “Sorry, you taste good too,” he said. This time placing a peck on your cheek.

"C'mon, finish it up before it melts."

The two of you eat together in comfortable silence. A new feeling lingers in the air. A sense of rose tranquility. You could get used to this.

“So,” you start, taking another bite. “What do we do now?” Osamu inches closer to your side, enjoying this new kind of company from you.

“Am I yours?”

You pretend to ponder, just to draw out your answer.

“I guess so.”

“Is that a yes?”

You take your chance to place a kiss on his cheek. This time, He’s the one caught off guard, smiling at you as he wipes the small bit of stickiness off.

“Yeah,” you said.

Wrapping an arm around your waist, Osamu places a hand on your hip to pull you closer to him.

“Stay over for tonight, why don’t ya?”

•~°~•~°~•~°~•~°~•~°~•~°~•~°~•~°~•~°~•~°~•~°

A/N: i'll edit this in a little bit

#haikyuu x reader #hq x reader #haikyuu x y/n #hq x y/n #osamu miya x reader #osamu miya x y/n #osamu x reader #osamu x y/n #osamu miya #osamu fluff #just cute stuff

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the-anonmaton · 6 months

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Sevika x Reader Masterlist

Well it's about time a did a Masterlist of my Sevika fics, so here it is!

All of the Completed Works are already posted on AO3.

All my WIPs are stuff I've already started working on, but I don't know what to tell you, they've nothing to do with my latest works! I guess I'll keep them here for reference, because I really do want to get to them. I won't abandon my babies!! I already have a few that are a good ways ahead and I know that I want to get out sooner rather than later, but I'd love to see what you think.

MDNI, please and thank you.

Will keep updating this as it goes I guess.

Completed Works

Who do you belong to? Jealous Sevika punishing f!Reader. Explicit / Smut / One-shot / 5.076 words

The Burden of Battle f!Reader massaging a tired Sevika. Mature / Suggestive / One-shot / 2.480 words

Again and Again A drabble of f!Reader making Sevika squirt. Explicit / Smut / One-shot / 203 words

Over the Edge, or Not Sevika edging the fuck out of f!Reader. :) Explicit / Smut / One-shot / 4.847 words

Whatever Feels Right Sevika with an inexperienced f!Reader. Explicit / Smut / Multi-chapter / 5 chapters / 17.331 words

Quivering Dance Reverse cowgirl with both Sevika and f!Reader topping and bottoming. Explicit / Smut / 2 chapters with a changed perspective / 1.531 words

Mend the Broken Sevika making love to a f!Reader who's struggling with work. Explicit / Smut / One-shot / 7.509 words

What She Sees StoneTop!Sevika's second person POV with a bossy f!Reader. Explicit / Smut / One-shot / 7.847words

Works In Progress

Sevika slowly eating f!Reader after coming home from work.

Protective Sevika seeing f!Reader getting hurt.

A continuation of my "Over the Edge, or Not" fic, but now Sevika does the exact opposite. :)

Sevika teaching f!Reader how to drive stick. Yes, it's a driving lesson and not a euphemism!

Sevika and f!Reader are exes and getting back together after the "incident".

f!Reader meeting Sevika's mom.

A threesome with Sevika being the third person. Some cuckoldry happening and f!Reader is toxic AF.

Sevika and f!Reader making a sex tape.

AMAB Sevika punishing f!Reader with cockwarming. Thanks sevikasenby for the idea!

Disclaimer

English is not my first language, so writing and editing takes me a lot and I can't guarantee that there aren't gonna be any grammar mistakes, but I'm trying my best.

My WIPs are gonna be out in a month or in a century.

I don't consider myself a writer that knows what is doing.

I'm writing for fun because Sevika has a hold of my poor brain.

Read the tags for each completed fic for any content warnings.

Feel free to bother me! :)

#arcane #sevika #arcane sevika #sevika x reader #writing #fanfiction #me thinks

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hardboiledleggs · 1 year

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Sneeze Hairybuns the Bard

Quick Steddie oneshot based on this post by @sharpbutsoft - Fair warning this probably won't be accurate to the D&D version they play in the show because I have the most experience with 5e and can't be bothered to look up the other editions for a tiny little ficlet like this lol. Also the poem Steve reads is "To Live Of Love" by St. Therese of Lisieux. Let me know if you'd like to be added to my permanent Steddie fic tag list :)

"D&D is Eddie's love language, Steve. You can't just Farrah Fawcett your way into his heart like you're used to doing."

Steve frowns at Dustin, causing his eyebrows to pull together.

"First off, the Fawcett Method is tried and true, don't you dare knock it. Secondly, I have literally never touched that game, how am I supposed to woo him with something I suck at?" His fingers are twisting furiously in his hair as he paces around his friend.

"Then we'll pick something you won't suck at," Dustin crows, wiggling his eyebrows. "You, Steve Harrington, will play a bard!"

"You know I don't know what that is," Steve grumbles in a flat tone. He wants to kick himself for ever having started this conversation in the first place, but even if this is a total dead-end, at least Dustin will stop trying to get him to confess his undying love for Robin.

Dustin is already rummaging through his unbelievably cluttered desk and emerges with several sheets of paper and a pencil that he has absolutely chewed the eraser off of.

"Dude, I am not fucking using your snack pencil! What the fuck did you do to that thing?"

The younger boy rolls his eyes and finds a different pencil, thankfully unchewed, and Steve grabs everything and sits on the floor with a huff.

"Fine, tell me what to do. You better not make me look stupid, Henderson. I still have that baseball bat in my car."

Steve jumps to his feet when he hears a car door slam outside. He has spent the last hour sitting on his couch and picking a nervous hole through one of the couch cushions. He makes a mental note to flip that cushion over before his parents come home next and opens his front door, bowing extravagantly to Eddie and the rest of the Party.

"Alright nerds, let's get this shit started!" Eddie squawks as he bounces through the door and shoves past Steve. "Remember kiddos, piss now because you lose two hit points every time you take a bathroom break!"

The kids file in behind him with El and Max bringing up the rear. Steve grins at the two of them.

"Don't you worry, ladies, I made snacks."

"They better not be pretzels again," Max sniffs as she drags El into the kitchen, El waving at Steve as they pass. He shuts the door and takes a deep breath, shuffling his feet on the tiled floor before following the boys into the living room where he had set up a passable D&D table.

Steve picks his way between the chairs and sweaty teenage boys to take a seat on Eddie's right, directly across from Dustin. He peers at Eddie from under his eyelashes as the Dungeon Master shuffles through his papers and jots down a few last-minute notes. Steve tries (and fails) to ignore the way Eddie's shirt is riding up and exposing his hipbones. Dustin coughs, but it sounds suspiciously like the word "Slut!" and Steve glares at him before letting his gaze fall to the character sheet he and Dustin had worked on last week.

"Alright, are we all ready?" Eddie asks as everyone files in and takes their seats. A general murmur of assent filters through the room, and Steve fights down the nausea that has suddenly crawled into his throat.

"Weary travelers! We have a new face amongst our number," Eddie begins with vigor. "Steve here will be playing..." He nudges Steve with an elbow and he jumps.

"Oh, uh, I am an elven bard named Sneeze Hairybuns." Steve fights the urge to glare at Dustin, who is giggling with Lucas across the table. "I was orphaned when I was ten and lived off the streets with just a guitar to try to make money."

"Excellent!" Eddie says, ignoring Dustin. "Let us begin."

Eddie begins to paint a picture with just his words. Steve finds himself utterly entranced with him: the way his eyes sparkle, the curve of his mouth around the word "dragon," and how sinful his hands looked as he drummed his fingers restlessly on the table and fidgeted with his dice. He's pretty sure his mouth is gaping like a damn fish when Eddie turns to him, and he snaps it shut quickly.

"Sneeze, what do you want to do? You can talk to anyone in the tavern, investigate anything you think is suspicious, or anything else you can think of."

Steve makes eye contact with Dustin, who nods, and turns back to Eddie. "I go up to the bartender to talk to him."

"Hello, young traveler. Can I offer you a strong glass of mead? We just did our monthly washing of the glasses so it should taste better than usual," Eddie barks in a gruff voice very different from his own. Steve tamps down on his anxious butterflies and leans casually against the table as if it was a bartop.

"Hiya, handsome. I think I can think of someone that sounds a little better than mead. Care to give me a taste?" Steve purrs in a sultry tone, puncturing his words with a rather gratuitous wink.

There is a chorus of whoops and "GROSS, Steve!" from around the table, but Steve keeps his eyes on Eddie. His face is rapidly changing colors, going from a pale pink to a deep almost-burgundy in less than five seconds as he chokes on the Coke he'd been in the middle of sipping from. Dustin stands up to give him a few thwacks on his back, shooting Steve a wink as he does so and mouthing "Exactly like that!" behind Eddie's back.

Eddie sucks in a deep breath with his eyes resolutely fixed on the table in front of him. His voice sounds much more like the usual Eddie as he replies, "Flattery will get you nowhere with me, traveler. What brings you and your companions to my tavern?"

"We're looking for information on the dragon that is terrorizing your village," Mike interrupts, scooting his minifigure toward the bar on Eddie's map. Eddie turns to him in relief and regales their group with tales of a monstrous beast that has been killing their livestock and kidnapping their children, and Steve shoots an anxious glance at Dustin. The younger boy shoots him a subtle thumbs up and turns back to Eddie.

Much of the game continues in this fashion. After the third or fourth time Steve opens the Party's dialogue with an NPC with a disgustingly-cheesy line about getting lost in their eyes or attempting to roll to seduce them, Erica throws her hands up and cries, "My gods, Sneeze, you can't flirt your way through a dragon fight!"

Dustin cackled, earning himself a smack on the back of the head from Max, who was observing while she devoured the bowl of popcorn she and El were passing back and forth.

"Says you, Sinclair. Our Dungeon Master hasn't stopped me yet. Speaking of, I believe I still have an action this turn?" Steve turns to Eddie, whose face has remained bright red throughout most of the campaign. Eddie nods once without looking at him.

"In that case, I would like to perform a poem I wrote for the Light Fairy." He clears his throat.

"To live of love, it is to know no fear. No memory of past faults can I recall. No imprint of my sins remaineth here. The fire of love divine effaces all. O sacred flames! O furnace of delight! I sing my safe sweet happiness to prove, in these mild fires I dwell by day, by night. I live of love!"

Steve, of course, hadn't actually written any poetry for this, but he'd read this poem in an English textbook his senior year and had liked it enough to tear it out and keep it. Mike wolf-whistles, and Dustin shoots another conspicuous wink toward Steve, but Steve hardly notices. Their Dungeon Master looks like his head might just spontaneously combust.

"Bathroom break!" Eddie's voice cracks through an entire octave as he shoots out of his seat and shuffles toward the stairs. His footsteps thump above their heads as he takes the steps three at a time.

"Maybe I'd better..." Steve trails off as he hops up and follows him. "Don't break anything or pee on the walls while I'm gone, please."

Ignoring the scuffle that immediately breaks out behind him, Steve jogs up the stairs and stops in front of the closed bathroom door. He can hear the water running inside, but not much else. Steeling himself, he knocks once and murmurs, "Hey, Eds? You alright?"

A hasty shuffling sound escapes under the door before it opens slightly, revealing a very pink-faced and ruffled Eddie Munson. Steve, mentally cursing whatever gods allowed him to think Dustin's plan wouldn't be a complete disaster, rubs the back of his neck awkwardly.

"Why are you doing this to me? Did Little Sinclair put you up to this? Because whatever she told you, it isn't true, and honestly this is just the tiniest bit cruel because I don't ev-hhrmmMPH!"

Whatever Eddie was planning on saying is lost as Steve grabs him by the hips and shoves him backward against the ugly yellow sink before pressing their mouths together. Eddie's hands flutter uselessly against Steve's chest before finally winding their way into his ridiculous, puffy hair with a broken moan that Steve swallows greedily into his own mouth. Steve presses him further back into the counter, needing to be closer, needing to feel Eddie, and peppers his lips and his throat with kisses and bites and little licks that are driving both of them insane.

Steve gathers a handful of Eddie's curly hair and yanks his head back, giving him uninterrupted access to Eddie's throat and collarbones, which he wastes no time in completely covering with purpling lovebites. Eddie is grinding against him, hands still in Steve's hair, making the most obscene noises Steve has ever heard in his life. Neither can slow down long enough to catch their breath, and their needy pants and gasps of air are filling the room with heat.

It's only when Eddie registers the sound of footsteps on the stairs that the two men break apart in a panic. Eddie is trying desperately to arrange his curls to cover his neck and Steve is still adjusting the collar of his shirt when Will rounds the corner. He looks at them for one beat, two beats, then turns on his heel and walks back down the stairs, shouting to the rest of the group that it'll just be another second.

Breathing hard, they just stare at each other for a few seconds. Eddie is, for once, completely speechless, and Steve is just too dumbfounded that Henderson's stupid plan had worked to form a coherent thought. Eddie is the one to break the silence.

"Right-o. Cool. I'll just head back to the game, shall I?"

Steve stares after him completely dumbfounded. He gives himself another few seconds to will his traitorous body into submission before following. It takes about 10 seconds after he sits down for Dustin to make eye contact with him, and Steve tries his best to keep his face neutral, but-

"I KNEW IT! You owe me BIG, Harrington!"

"I knew it, too, you dweeb! I told Eddie like, two entire months ago to make his move. You're not special, Dustybuns," Erica snorts.

Steve sighs and puts his head in his hands, but he still locks his ankle around Eddie's under the table as he tries halfheartedly to fight the secret, pleased smile that's making its way to his face. He can't see it, but Eddie wears the exact same smile.

Tag list - @aghostcup @ask-canon-and-fanon-personified @brassreign (you said you wanted to see anything of mine that was Steddie so no take-backs)

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ivestas · 1 year

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hearts aligned

PART TWO

Summary: He keeps pretending he doesn’t know you and it’s starting to get on your nerves.

Tags: soldier!fem!reader (call sign “hound”) x ghost (2010 version), childhood friends, grief, smoking, lowkey reader x konig, canon divergence, hurt/comfort(?), barely edited, suicidal implications

Word count: 1.4k

Note: this is kind of the continuation of the konig fic i made with that reader, though not really? like these oneshots r connected but u can still read this without reading the other, but i recommend reading that one first

He was pretending not to know you.

He avoided your gaze, full of ire and judgement, favoring the sight of the wall behind you.

“You’re Captain Price?” You’d asked gruffly, trying to stave away the flame that licked at your nerves. “An honor. Didn’t think KorTac would be able to contact you guys.”

“Could say the same for you, Hound.” Price responded, lighting a fat cigar. “Though I’m more surprised about how yer still alive.”

Price’s men—all talking among themselves in the KorTac lounge—didn’t avoid your prying stare, nodding to you before turning back to their comrades.

Ghost hadn’t. He’s not looked at you once.

Instead, he’s still staring at the damn wall.

“What can I say? I have the devil’s luck. I’ll share my secrets if you ask nicely.”

Price chuckled. “Keep ‘em to yourself—in any case, how long’re you plannin’ to stay?”

You were staring fully at Ghost now.

He’s turned his head, now talking to the Scotsman—Soap, was it?

“Dunno. Just gonna stick around till I feel like I’ve done my part.”

“You always been a vagrant? Why not settle down with KorTac—or, perhaps, with the 141? I wouldn’t mind the extra set of hands.”

“I wouldn’t mind prying my molars out with my own hands, either.”

He sighed. “I can’t help but wonder what crawled up your ass and died. Even if you’re opposed to the 141, why not KorTac? You even have your own right-hand man trailin’ after you like a lost pup.”

It was your turn to sigh. “You’ve noticed König?”

Price leaned against the wall, taking in a quick puff before snorting. “Hard not to when he’s a fuckin’ giant—you don’t seem to mind, though. Didn’t think you were that type.”

“What type?” You smiled, extending a hand.

He passed you the cigar. His voice lowered despite the fact no one was listening. “The heartless type. You’re humoring the man when we both know you’d sooner die than settle down like that.”

You took a long suck. It’s expensive—aromatic with clear punches of spice and earth.

Too expensive.

You handed the cigar back. “I don’t mind the shadow, the sun’s pretty harsh here and I don’t wanna age like a pig.”

“Wrong thing to worry about,” he hummed, lifting the cigar to his mouth once more.

“Let me be a little vain, Price,” you stretched your arms. “In any case, I’m gonna go ‘hit the hay’. Have fun spending the night slaving away at papers.”

“Don’t remind me...”

You laughed at that. You shot one last glance at Ghost—whose back was turned to you, prick—before heading out of the lounge.

It was just after a few seconds of walking you heard footsteps behind you. You recognized the light steps immediately.

Without bothering to turn, you spoke. “Not tonight, König. I’m busy.”

“...Tomorrow?”

You hated the power his voice had over you—how fucking soft it was. It made you feel bad. Guilty.

You turned around then, offering him an apologetic smile. Under the dim, flickering lights of the hallway, he looked monstrous, but his eyes were warm. “How about the morning, then? We can shoot at the range on the crack of dawn.”

The corners of his eyes crinkled, just enough for you to know he was smiling. “That sounds good, thank you.”

“Now, go to sleep. It’s late.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“I thought I told you before not to call me—”

He’d turned around already, walking off in the opposite direction, back to his barracks.

I’ll talk to him about that tomorrow. You continued walking, making your way through the twisting hallways until you finally found it.

His room.

It was an invasion of privacy in many ways, this could get you in trouble in an instant, but you didn’t give a shit. Not now.

Simon’s gonna answer to you, and he’s not gonna hide behind that shitty mask of his. Not now. Not after the past you’ve shared.

You opened his door with ease, and inside, it was just as you expected: empty, save for the raggedy cot and personal equipment.

There was a deep shadow cast in one of the shadows just along the wall where the door was.

Shutting the door, you went to the corner, back pressed against the hard concrete as you just stared at where the door was.

You were going to stay here till he comes, and you were only going to leave till he answered you.

Until he finally looked at you.

---

You didn’t know how much time has passed, your brain had been filled with nothing but static and air, but when you finally heard footsteps draw close to the door, you snapped out of your stupor.

Standing tall, you crossed your arms, staring at the door as it swung open.

He didn’t notice you—not right away, his peripheral gaze not aimed at the side where you were lurking.

It was only when he shut the door and looked around the room that he finally noticed you.

He froze, tired eyes sharpening with ice.

But he wasn’t looking at you, no, he looked at your face, not your eyes.

“What’re you doing here?” His voice was cold, callous.

“You know why I’m here, you piece of shit.” You took a step forward, lifting your chin. “Why have you been avoiding me?”

He snorted. “Didn’t know we were in middle school again—”

“We might as well be with how much of a fucking idiot you are.” You took another step forward.

He narrowed his eyes but remained as still as a stone. Still, not looking at you. “Well, now I’m here. Happy? Leave.”

“You—fuck, Simon—“

“Ghost.” He corrected coldly.

“Oh, shut up, you’re Simon and you’ll always be Simon.”

“You haven’t earned the right to say my name—“

“I earned that fuckin’ right the moment I took in your sorry ass back when we were kids.” Now you were right in front of him, looking up, trying to meet his gaze.

And he did—fuck, he finally did, and what reflected was an incomprehensible mix of emotions you couldn’t decode—you couldn’t care to.

Because that wasn’t enough, you realize. You didn’t just want his eyes, you wanted him.

In hindsight, it was obvious, but at that moment, your rage was numbed by confusion.

You stumbled back.

Again, he was unmoving, but his hand had twitched forward.

The movement made you scoff. Your heart was on fire.

You laughed. It was loud, harsh, grating. “You can’t just—you can’t just spend an eternity with me then run off and pretend I don’t exist—”

“Then imagine how I felt when I found out the girl who’d been up my ass was not only a goddamn soldier, but one that ran around throwing her life away without even bothering to find me.”

You froze.

“You act like I’ve wronged you when it’s the other way around—I knew you, you and your little feats on the battlefield, flaunts of strength as though you had no value. As though I wasn’t a thought in your mind.”

“I—“

“No, don’t ‘I’, shut up. Selfish little shit—so eager to toss your life, because what?—hadn’t you heard me when I said ‘I want you alive’? Back in your room when you were obsessed with video games and art? When you told me that secret, and I told you mine?” His words were straining, as though he were struggling to spit them out—to piece them together and coherently present them.

As if he, too, had been alight with anger.

“...”

"You told me to cut off frayed links, and I did just that... so don’t be angry. I just did what you told me to—”

Your arms wrapped around him in an instant.

Your chest was tight. Ragged. You squeezed the words out, though. “I’m... sorry.”

Ghost—Simon—whoever this version of this man just stood, still and quiet, even when a part of you broke.

Just as when you were kids, except this time, there was no silent hope for the future, no yearning for a better past, but the cold and unyielding weight of reality slowly encompassing the two of you.

That weight lightened the slightest bit when he reciprocated, arms around you too.

AO3

Masterlist

Requests are open

#simon ghost riley x reader #ghost x reader #mw2 ghost x reader #mw2 x reader #modern warfare 2 x reader #modern warfare x reader #cod x reader #konig x reader #tw sui implied

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amaiyajiki · 1 year

Text

A Lover’s Argument (Akutagawa x reader)

Tags: Angst, Established relationship, Akutagawa being an asshole to reader, Swearing, mentions of Dazai and Akutagawa’s relationship, Ooc akutagawa?

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>> You knew what you were gonna get yourself in when you got into a relationship with the mafia dog, Ryūnosuke Akutagawa. Also the past subordinate of Dazai Osamu. You knew that Akutagawa wanted attention or at least approval of his mentor. He was taught that emotions were for the weak and vulnerable. He was cold to everyone, even you, but you two had your own moments where he would be soft for you.

But....what led you two to have an argument like this....?

He insulted you so many times but you know he’s just trying his best. He was stubborn enough to not apologize ever because he thought he’s always right. You didn’t like it at all. You were sometimes hurt by his words but you pushed your feelings down.

You were tired, tired of work, tired of everything really. You took out your keys and stuck them into the key hole. You opened the door to your shared apartment. Akutagawa wasn’t back yet, so you decided to change your clothes and take a bath. You decided to scroll thorough your phone for a bit. After a few minutes later, you heard the door to your entrance open and be shut closed loudly. You sighed and got up from your bed to greet your boyfriend. He seemed...gloomy? “Welcome home, Aku”, you greeted him. He didn’t reply to you but just stormed off to your guy’s shared bedroom.

You sighed and followed him into your guy’s bedroom. You went to your bedroom and saw him beside the bed, clutching his fists, his body shaking horribly. You, being the kind partner, decided to touch his back and try to comfort him. But he flinched a bit and moved your hand away roughly. “Aku, what’s wrong?” “Just get away from me.”, Akutagawa said. You sighed, you were used to this kind of treatment. “Aku, What happened?” you tried to ask him but he just wouldn’t budge. But at last, he got annoyed with you. “CAN YOU JUST SHUT UP?!” Akutagawa shouted, “God, I don’t need your pity! nor your kindness! I am not weak!” His eyes were cold and staring right at your eyes.

You flinched a bit, not expecting him to raise his voice. “Well I’m sorry for caring about my partner when he’s risking his life on the line!” “I don’t think you’re weak Akutagawa! Why can’t you understand that?!” You shouted at him. You were annoyed, really annoyed with his behavior. You clenched your fists in anger.

Akutagawa spoke again, “Well- I didn’t ask you to care about me. You’re way too weak and I would appreciate it if you kept that behavior to yourself and not force it on me.” That’s it. You had enough of Akutagawa’s bullshit. You shakingly sighed as you tried to contain your anger. “You know what? Fine, I won’t give two flying fucks about you, I won’t care about you when you get injured, I won’t annoy you. I won’t do shit to you if it bothers you THAT much”, You angrily said. Akutagawa’s eyes slightly widened a bit. You grabbed your coat from your dressing table.

“No wonder why Dazai-san up and left you! You’re way too stubborn for your own good! You know- Sometimes I question my decision about dating you.” You said all of that in one breath. You could feel Akutagawa tense up at those mentions. But before he could say anything, you stormed off and out the door you went. You needed to process or control your anger without seeing him or anyone. You know what you’ve said and you will probably regret it later but for now..... You wanted to calm down.

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

A/N: Hey guys! I hope you enjoyed reading this! This is kind of my first time writing angst so it might not be as good as you think- After this post, I might post another fic before I go offline because my exams are coming up sadly-

(Also shouts out to my bestie for helping me with this fic and editing it)

#bsd anime #bsd x y/n #bsd x you #bsd x reader #bsd akutagawa #akutagawa x y/n #akutagawa ryuunosuke #bsd angst

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asmolbirb · 9 days

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Birb liveblogs the final Temeraire trilogy: League of Dragons

Overseas travel edition! I devoured this book on a 15hr flight without the ability to update my reactions live, so here they are all in one go, with much less screaming in the tags

So obvs I’m devastated that Tharkay is gone again but it’s tickling me pink that Laurence is like “oh we’re cuddling on dragonback? It’s Tharkay or bust for me uwu”. And it’s undeniably hysterical that in the middle of The Most Important War Effort So Far, Novik is taking extra time to discuss dragonback cuddle logistics. Truly zero notes

Naomi Novik stop killing off everyone Laurence cares about challenge ToT ToT ToT

Laurence screaming and thrashing while Hammond and Temeraire play dress up with him might be the funniest running gag in the entire series

I LIED the funniest running gag in the series is every single description of Temeraire “heroically” expressing 1 singular generosity

The Miss Merkelyte romcom C plot is absolutely sending me. What the fuck is happening lmao

CALL THARKAY A FUCKIN WHACKAMOLE THE WAY HE’S ALWAYS POPPING UP OUT OF RANDOM-ASS HOLES IN EVERY WRETCHED SWATH OF BACKCOUNTRY ON THE PLANET

“I’m soooo over my act of treason it doesn’t bother me at all” <- words dreamed up by the utterly deranged (someone who is not over his act of treason even a little bit)

Awwww baby’s first PTSD…….. :(

This will not surprise anyone but I’m immediately obsessed with Ning. Big fan of a character whose primary narrative purpose is to tell everyone they’re being big old idiots

Hoo boy the way Laurence handles his authority, particularly when reprimanding rude subordinates, sets off my competency kink like no one’s business. And he’s built like a linebacker on top of that?? *fans self* I’m so so glad we get to see him be a proper captain again, it’s a lovely bit of closure to finish out the series

“My dear, that is the Temeraire, herself” PARDON ME I MUST SQUEAL, I’m so unbelievably soft for this owo

Laughing my ass off at Laurence turning his raggedy band of ferals into a bunch of crypto bros

Man remember in the first few books when the divine wind was this mighty and rare thing? And now it seems Temeraire is loosing the thing twice a chapter. I love *clenches fist* a tangible depiction of growth over the length of a narrative

Crying screaming gnashing my teeth over Tharkay showing up out of nowhere at the end of everything and saying “hey. Do u wanna retire with me while ur dragon menaces the government? Do u wanna do that maybe forever? Haha jk……. unless…..?” They’re both so silly and speaking in so much euphemism. It’s gonna take them 10 years to even kiss each other. I’m coming apart at the seams about it

#temeraire #Temeraire spoilers #neko rambles #IM AAAAAAAAA #so sad the series is over #honestly by the end I didn’t even care about the war effort LOL #I just want Tharkay and Laurence to be in love forever

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voidingintotheshout · 6 months

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Bigger Bro: A Continuation

Okay, so there's this amazing story of filial revenge by someone on here called Better Off Bigger. They wrote an amazing 10 page (6,000 word) story called Big Bro. It's one of my favorite stories (of any genre) from the last couple of years. It is 18+ but I don't recall any sex or descriptions of nudity. Use discretion, but in my estimation is only PG-13.

Anyway, I wrote a 19 page (15,000 word) sequel to this awesome story exploring the family history and the relationship dynamics between the two brothers. I've talked with Better Off Bigger and their preference is that I link to their story and then post my own. I'll honor that and remind you that my story may not stand of its own without reading their story first.

Link to: Big Bro by Better Off Bigger

I'll post my story in two parts. I started this story in January 2023. It's DECEMBER 2023 now. It's been a tough thing to polish and edit. It's worth knowing that I loathe editing, so if there is a typo, leave it (and the location) in the comments if it's bothering you and I'll try to get around to fixing it in less time it took me to edit this thing (6+ months).

Bigger Bro (Part 1 of 2) (2023)

Note: Part 1 is in first person, from Jared’s perspective.

Fortunately, I love cooking, so spending a couple of extra hours in the kitchen every day making food for my big bro Marco was something that gave me pleasure. It also didn’t hurt that recently, my stepbrother had been conditioned to eat everything that was put in front of him, and it showed.

It has been a year since I moved out of my parents house, and Marco was out of a job. Apparently, someone tipped off our oblivious boss at how much food Marco was eating, which, at first our boss didn’t really care that much about until this person put a price tag on how much it was costing our boss, and then Marco had to go.

We moved ourselves out of that house, and for a little while he was at a loss. He hadn’t been out of work in years, and he didn’t know what to do with himself. He thought for a while about going to college or going back to school in between bites of whatever food I put in front of him, but whenever I would dangle the idea of how he would pay for it in front of him, the idea of cashing in his nest egg on going back to school didn’t appeal to him. He’d tell me that he would think about it, mull it over in between mouthfuls. Fortunately, I managed to keep him mostly occupied as I persuaded him that this new arrangement was about complete freedom for him to do what he wanted. No asshole judgmental friends, no asshole judgmental parents, and no asshole judgmental coworkers. He could do what made him happy, which coincidentally was what would make me happy: him eating like a pig.

I moved around some of the dishes that were warming in the oven and stirred some of the items that were still on the stove. I treated our stove like a warming oven, so things that took a long time to put together like a stack of waffles or pancakes, or French toast, could just stay warm in the oven while I worked on other things. I could still hear Marco’s snoring from the end of the hall, so I knew that he was still asleep. Fortunately, I was almost done.

The pot of coffee was brewing on the dining table, and that was the last thing I put together for his breakfast. I already had my lean breakfast while I was cooking, because I certainly wasn’t gonna wait around a half hour to an hour while he wolfed down all of that food. I turned the heat off on the final items to get done, which was the roasted carrots in butter sauce. I started to plate everything on large trays, because he didn’t really care about eating off of ceramics, so I just put the food directly on serving trays, just to make it easier for me to keep everything clean. I just kept a stack of them on the counter and I could just throw them in the dishwasher as needed. Usually one meal cooking for Marco ended up filling up the dishwasher more or less, so I just got into the habit of emptying the dishwasher while I was prepping the food.

I was plating the food, when I heard a thud at the end of the hallway, and that usually meant that Marco had rolled himself out of bed. I knew from experience that the heavier you got, you’re not usually very good at getting a sense of how much your life has changed since you’ve started gaining weight. He wasn’t even aware that he needed to use the momentum of swinging his legs to get his body off of the bed. One time, about a month or two ago, I came home. He was taking a nap in bed, and I tried to get him to see if he could get out of bed without swinging his legs over the side. Poor fat fuck acted like I was asking him to do the impossible. For a second, I wanted to get on to the bed and show that I had more than enough core strength to turn my body without swinging my legs… that this was an indication of how fat and heavy he had become, but I didn’t wanna fuck things up.

I heard the thuds of his footfalls, and I popped my head around the corner so I could see him waddle down the hallway. Unlike me, who gained weight mostly in the belly, Marco gained it everywhere, and he had already developed massive ass and thighs that made it so that he needed to waddle everywhere he went. Fortunately, I did everything for him, so no one had yet had called him out on the fact that he was literally waddling from place to place. I loved that I saw the edge of his belly leave the bedroom quite a bit before I saw the rest of him He waddled down the hallway, his arms pushed out from the massive bags of fat hanging down under his armpits. His apron of belly fat was hanging down below the reach of his arms. He could reach the end of his belly, but only if he was lying on his back.

One day, I was feeding him breakfast and he mentioned that he had just been beating off thinking about the hot guy I’d just brought home and fucked last night. I went into his room, and I saw that he had piled some pillows in the middle of the bed, presumably to get his belly away from his dick so he could even fucking reach it. I checked the browser history, but he was either too oblivious, or careless to even think about clearing it, and I was very happy to see that he was already chatting with communities of gainers and encouragers online. Googling tips on how you can continue masturbating at large sizes. I mean, he had a boyfriend, Nathan, but all of his eating made Marco horny so he usually needed it more often than Nathan was around. Nate was a little bit smaller than I was at my peak. He weighed about 275. Marco loved it because Nate was half his size.

“Sup bro.” Marco interjected. “Have another amazing repast for me, I see. You’re lucky that I’m here so that you can keep your skills up. It’s not like that bullshit restaurant you work at even serves breakfast food.” I snickered, because the restaurant had been an ‘amazing, esteemed place’ before he’d been fired but was now a ‘bullshit, shithole, fleabag’ now. A ‘bullshit’ restaurant serving fare he’d shovel into his face as fast as he could every time I brought home anything.

He started digging into the French toast with ice cream and syrup and butter. He ate it with serving spoons now because it was just easier to get stuff into his mouth. I was trying to convince him to start eating with his hands, but it was gonna take a little bit more persuading to get him to eat foods like mashed potatoes (which were hot), or ice cream (which was cold) with his hands. “Yeah. I love getting all the practice I can. I’ll have some of my fellow chefs drop off some food starting at around eleven. Will that give you enough time?”

“Yeah. I’ll be up and about by then. I got a lot of stuff percolating in the tank.” He said, with a jerk upwards, as if he was busy thinking deep thoughts about his future, as he moaned and grunted audibly stuffing food in as quickly as he could, in an effort to overfill his stomach before his brain could send the signal that he was full. As if it was a race against time.

“Excellent. It’s important to stay busy. Will you still be up later in the week to let some of my buddies in culinary school cook for you? They all really appreciate having someone with a good appetite who can give them notes on what you liked and what you didn’t. You know, food tasters are nice, but they only taste a bite of the food but you’ll finish the whole meal so you give them better sense of which items lose their flavor or stop being as delicious by the last bite.” I also liked the fact that the mammoth meals stuffed my obese brother with thousands of extra calories, every single time he had one of those. I wasn’t about to tell my brother that they didn’t really need his feedback, but I really loved any opportunity to stuff that fatass with more calories.

I thought back to Marco walking down the hallway. His double chin turned in to a small scoop of fat as plump, fleshy face jiggled as he waddled down the hallway. Marco generally didn’t bother wearing shirts around the house, but rather just kept a nice shirt near any place that he was likely to sit and eat, so he could just throw the shirt on anytime he needed to have guests. That would guarantee that if there were any food stains, they were almost always on the inside of the shirt.

I didn’t know how fat Marco had gotten exactly, but every once in a while, I would bring home a bottle of rum and two liters of Coke, and Marco would get completely wasted. Once, Marco had gotten to the point that I knew the fatass was about 10 minutes away from falling asleep, I would make Marco put one foot foot on either scale, because Marco was too fat for anything less than a bariatric scale at this point, and get his weight. This was an important one, because this was the one year anniversary of the two of us moving in together. When we moved in, Marco was 410 pounds. He had gained another 5 to 7 pounds between when he got fired and when we actually moved in. I glanced over to the table and noticed that Marco had finished half of the food on two of the cafeteria trays that were piled high with mounds of food covered in fat and butter and sugar. “Everything good there a big bro?”

“Amazing as always. I don’t know how you do it. I was always useless in the kitchen, but I was always pretty helpful around the dinner table finishing stuff off. Not that our fucking parents appreciated that. I’m glad I can at least do something to create more amazing chefs like you by giving all of your friends notes about what they’re making. Some of them are pretty good. That lady, Sandra? She’s amazing. You should have her come and cook again.”

Sandra. Yeah, Sandra wasn’t going to be coming back.

One of the design details that I had all over the house is I had mirrors right next to photos of Marco as he used to look when he was fit. As a way of taunting him. Amazingly, he never really put it together, he just saw that he was a hot guy and that was awesome and now he can do whatever he wants which was also awesome. Sandra didn’t know she was going to be cooking for someone who at the moment was about 530 pounds. Not only that, without anyone but me and his encourager boyfriend, he had lost all sense of decorum and table manners as he was encouraged to stuff food in as quickly and shamelessly as he could; never timid about asking for, or demanding, more food at any time. It was part of my plan to make a Marco one of those greedy pigs that he saw watching episodes of My 600 Pound Life. It was all part of a larger plan.

Sandra didn’t know any of that, and when she found out that her food was being used to make a 23 year old guy who was already so heavy that he struggled to get up, even fatter… she felt like she was doing something bad, and when she insisted that she would try to intervene and get Marco to start being healthier, she had to go. If need be, I could make up some story about unprofessional conduct, or she had a death in the family and needed to move away, or whatever.

I wasn’t sure, but I had a feeling that Marco had already gotten so fat that he would struggle to actually get into that fucking car of his. Once I knew that he was so fat that he would just keep stuffing himself for the rest of his life, I would point that out so maybe we could sell the car and he could keep the money for his rainy day fund and that would be so much less power that he would have to do things for himself. I didn’t need my pig to get away.

“Yeah, I don’t know what happened to her. I haven’t heard from her in a long time. I don’t know if she’s in the game anymore.” There was Nick, though, who had just moved up from Tennessee and had gotten used to putting too much butter and gravy in all of his southern cooking at the restaurant though. He was interesting, a little unpolished, but as soon as his techniques got better, I think he would jump at the chance of cooking for Marco, someone who would appreciate food made with as much butter and gravy as Nick could whip together.

Two-thirds of the food was gone. At this point I would usually go into the kitchen and rinse off stuff and put it in the dishwasher while he was absorbed in stuffing his face with more food, something that happened more and more often.

Once he got over 400 pounds and lost his job because people said he was too fat, he tried to rally a little bit, but it was moving out that really broke him. You see, he used to be a guy who could benchpress hundreds of pounds so when he was packing stuff up and moving stuff out of his room, I was making great progress with my stuff and I wasn’t helping him. His parents weren’t really talking to him that much because he kept on teasing them that he was going to move out and eat whatever he wanted and they were not happy. Fortunately for me, they are not people who communicate well. They’re the kind of people that, when they’re unhappy with you, they just stop talking to you. That was supposed to make the other person want to reach out and extend an olive branch, but Marco was just too stupid and oblivious for that. So all he registered was that they just weren’t giving him shit about what he was eating anymore and that he was almost ready to leave. I had packed up most of my wardrobe, the gym equipment, some of my smaller pieces of furniture, as well as other stuff like things from Marco’s and my childhoods that our parents didn’t want anymore. They were getting older and wanted to move into a smaller place. The house they were living in was part of a really great school system that was also really expensive. Since they didn’t really need to worry about that since they were empty-nesters, they could move into a much smaller, two-bedroom place without any stairs that was closer to his father’s job, and would be the kind of place that even if their knees started to go from all of their exercise, they wouldn’t have trouble getting around the house. A smart move, I thought.

So there I was, I would fill my car with a bunch of stuff, the big items first. It was easy. I would be packing up some stuff, with help from the guys at the gym, and I was making a ton of progress. Marco insisted that he could do it himself. He had his own car. The only problem was, the last time he had done a lot of weightlifting was 200 pounds ago, back when his weight was below 200. That belly was in his way. When he would be folding up his clothes, and lifting boxes off of the ground—it ended up being some thing that was not possible for him without getting winded or frustrated. Even with creating a mobility aide, such as putting the box on the desk chair while he was still sitting on the floor, and then using the desk chair to hoist himself up off the floor, he got worn out packing up a single box over the course of an afternoon. One day, after our parents have gone to sleep, I was back from the restaurant, and I was stuffing Marco with all of the foods that had gotten returned, as well as a bunch of other stuff that I was whipping up once he finished with that. It was our nightly routine.

He came to me, despondent. I knew it was serious because he’d stopped eating and put down the food for a few minutes. He came clean that he just didn’t have the stamina right now. Maybe he was just bloated from too many celebratory freedom meals. (That’s what he was calling every meal now that he was unemployed). He told me that he just didn’t have the energy to do this anymore and he wanted to know if he could have some help from me and my gym buddies, the ones that used to be his friends. I looked at him coldly, making sure to look down at his bloated, gut and food-stained shirt. The shirt that he had been wearing at the restaurant when he got fired. The one that had been tight then and now his belly was hanging out of the bottom of. He didn’t even care. I told him that I would get him his help, but in exchange he needed to sit there, in that shirt, stuffing his face the entire time they were packing up his room and he need to apologize that he had just gotten too fat to do this kind of stuff. I told him that I wanted him to own up to the type of man he was now and come clean. That he was too fat, and too out of shape to do anything other than eat. He started to object, but I told him that if he didn’t have his shit out of here, he would be unemployed, living with his parents, and I knew he didn’t fucking want that. I had him over a barrel. He relented.

Marco was on the last tray of food today, so while I was cleaning up the kitchen, I brought out some of the snacks that got him through the morning. I placed them in front of him I along with a remote. Sometimes he got so fat and heavy after eating, that he couldn’t manage to hoist himself up for several hours. So, since we had one of those giant flatscreen TVs across the living room, he would sometimes just sit at the table, snacking on food until his bladder or his appetite forced him to hoist his fat ass up and take care of something. “Thanks man. I didn’t wanna say anything, but those four trays are starting to not cut it anymore, you know? Like I’m not hungry obviously it’s just I’m not really as full as I’d like to be.”

God he was a pig. “Yeah, I know man. I used to be heavy too. I know how good it feels to really weigh yourself down after a nice meal. I’ve got you buddy. We’ll move up to five trays starting tomorrow. That should fill you up.” I figured by the time he got to 600 pounds a year from now I would be up to six trays, which was as much as that table could hold, but I also figured at that point I might be able to condition him to just start taking most of his meals in that bariatric bed with the foldout tables, and once I got him to start eating in bed, I knew he would never get up again. Then my plan would really start.

Anyway. Moving day. This was before Nate entered the picture. I saw Nate at the bar that Marco used to go to. He was trying to coax his date into finishing another plate of fries and all I heard was this random ex jock, shouting “stop trying to fatten me up dammit!”

I knew I had found the right person.

So I talked to Nate and explained about my brother. I knew I had chosen the right person when he got this hungry look in his eyes seeing the before and after picture from a hot, sexy confident jock to this puffy blob of a man lounging on the sofa with a huge tray of food resting on his belly, because it was the only place his fat arms could reach easily anymore. Nate immediately wanted to start playing around with Marco and it helped that he worked at a bakery, a place that tends to be open in the mornings and close by dinner time so I had someone who could feed Marco while I was at work during the dinner rush. I need to keep my brother full.

I couldn’t let him get hungry and start wasting away, now could I?

I’d set it up as if Nate was someone going to culinary school who was interested in Marco and loved his confidence or whatever, which was true. I wasn’t expecting Nate to develop genuine feelings, I was honestly only thinking of creating another incentive for Marco to continue being a pig, now that I had broken him with moving day.

Nate would come over about three times a week, and they would talk on the phone a lot, Marco never really putting it together that Nate always liked call when he knew Marco was going to be eating something. Whatever boats your float, Nate. They even fooled around… occasionally, because sex with Marco tended to be more of an ordeal, or so Nate said. The bigger Marco got, the less energetic and mobile he was. The more likely he would get out of breath, of his pulse would race too much, or whatever. This meant that his partner would need to take it even slower, and do more of the work. This meant that sex was fairly rare, especially since his belly and fat pad had buried so much of his dick at this point. I knew this because I was the one who needed to wash him down there now that he couldn’t reach everywhere anymore. The lack of sex thing was nice though, because that kept Marco horny and that made him eat more. It didn’t matter though because when he had sex, he felt like that hot stud he was before, and that also caused him to eat more.

I had done most of the washing up except for the final tray that Marco had in front of him and that’s when I heard the TV flip on, which was my cue that I could head out and start doing some cardio. I’d gotten myself into peak physical condition, so at this point it was all about maintenance. I didn’t wanna look like some kind of power lifter, so fitness was more about about going to the gym to maintain and burn off steam. I had about 45 minutes before I needed to leave for work so I had enough time to run a couple of miles before I took a quick shower and throw on my work clothes. Him being done with breakfast was a good sign. I would go for my workout, come home and then start the dishwasher. “You feeling good bro?” I’d shout from the kitchen.

I just heard a few mumbled words as he tried to talk with his mouth full. I smiled. I loved how easy this was. If the old Marco had seen what he was like now, he would be horrified. The fact that he was more than double his high school weight and didn’t really seem to care was more than I had hoped.

Sometimes, at the end of the day, he was so weighed down with food and muscle atrophy that he thought nothing of letting me help him up. The idea that he struggled to hoist his fat ass out of a chair after doing nothing but eating all day, didn’t even seem to bother him. “Awesome. I’m gonna go for my run. I’ll be back in a few minutes.” I walked past where he’d seated himself on his bariatric bench with the wheels, so he could easily hoist himself up. I’d managed to convince him to let me install a little rope pull attached to one of the ceiling beams right above where he sat, to help hoist himself up. He said he didn’t need it, but I noticed that he uses it pretty much every time now. I was also gonna have one right above the spot on the couch that he usually sits in so we can use that one to help with himself up off the couch when he needs it.

I took off the apron and hung it from the hook in the kitchen, revealing the running clothes underneath. It was just easier to cook in my running gear that way I could save some time. Cooking that mountain of food for him was not easy. I glanced over at him and saw that he had already finished the fourth tray and was wolfing down a bunch of the snacks already. He was insatiable. I was glad to see that he had the TV remote and the door remote if he needed them.

That was one of the things that I treated him to when he got to 450 pounds. I had gotten to be pretty senior in the restaurant since I was saving money all over the place and getting rid of food waste (Which was going to Marco) and customer satisfaction was through the roof. Being in the food industry, and the restaurant industry in my town, you get to know chefs from all the other restaurants. It’s like a brotherhood. You find yourself calling them for references and stuff like that and eventually I’d broach the subject of what do you and delivery drivers do with food that you can’t sell. Dishes that get returned and deliveries that the customer paid for but didn’t show up to accept. Situations where you order too much of something and it needs to be used today and you’re not likely to do so. Well, wanting to have less food waste, it was easiest to just give all of that food to a delivery driver and have them run it over to Marco’s place. Marco would press the button on the door remote and let the guy in, who would place all the food in front of Marco and get five to ten bucks for his trouble. That way Marco would have piles more food and the guy (or the restaurant would have 5 to 10 bucks more than he used to. It didn’t happen every day, but it was getting more consistent as pizzas and cheesesteaks or whatever would arrive and Marco would be there to stuff it down his fat face.

Anyway, I turned down at the end of my block and continue on with my run. I wasn’t really worried about my time or my pacing anymore. I’m basically where I wanna be but I do try to keep my pace at a certain level just so I know that I’m not backsliding.

I’m very curious as to how much walking it would take Marco to get out of breath, but I don’t think he has left the house more than once in the last six months. I get all of his clothes and anything else he needs. I do the grocery shopping mainly because I don’t want him to buy a bunch of shitty tasting junk food which might make him bored. Eventually, I’ll need to resort to that when his appetite is such that I can’t really do a full-time job and feed him all day. Happily, he’s not at that point yet.

So anyway, moving day. Over 100 pounds ago. Marco had his instructions and I brought some of his old friends went and seen him in a few months and I choose the judgiest of his old gym buddies and I prefaced it by saying that Marco was unrepentant, and all he wanted to do was just be a pig out and stuff his fat ass with as much food as he could. He’d gotten himself so out of shape that he didn’t even have the stamina anymore to pack boxes and move them into his fucking car. We needed to get him out of the house so we’re gonna need to do it for him. Should only take a few hours with a couple of us working together.

The stage was set. I had given Marco a fairly lean breakfast, so he was already complaining for food by the time my friends from the gym got there. He didn’t know that they were his old workout buddies and some of his old lovers. They saw Marco with his belly hanging out of his old uniform, stuffing himself with anything he could get his hands on. Apologizing for not being able to help but he’s just really bloated lately and he just doesn’t have the stamina. That it just wears him out packing up all those boxes. He played his part to a T, and he was eating slices of cheesecake with his hands, right out of the tin. He takes a messy pile and holds it out to one of the gym rats and says “do you want a slice? It’s really good!”

They look at him disgusted. “Jesus fuck dude. You’re like a fucking disgusting pig. I think you might be the fattest guy I’ve ever fucking seen. That’s all you do. Just stuffing your fat ugly face with more fucking food? I remembered when I used to lust after you. I asked you for lifting tips. The only thing you’re lifting is your fucking fork. Do you even use silverware? Are you literally just stuffing food into your face with your hands? God what the fuck happened to you. You’re such a gross pig.” Marco looked totally defeated.

Fortunately, he was so hungry, and he was so prone to eating his feelings that it just made him want to stuff his face more, and when he realized they were not going to be convinced to treat him nicely, he almost wanted to stuff his face more to antagonize them. This gave me the idea that I’m going to be presenting to Marco later today after my run. One of the other guys chimed in who have been rejected by Marco “I remember when you were the type of guy they could have whatever you wanted, but it turns out the only thing you wanted more of was food. That’s why you ended up getting fatter than everyone else and you probably can’t even fit on most of the machines at the gym. Is it true that you got fired from your job at the restaurant because you got too fat? Oh my God, that’s your uniform isn’t it? You only got fired a few weeks ago and your belly is spilling out of the uniform? Damn, you’re never gonna lose weight if you don’t treat that as a wake up call.”

Marco, spiteful, stopped eating long enough to spit out a few words “I don’t need to stop eating. I can eat whatever fuck I want to and I hope you know that even though I’ve eaten myself so fat I can’t even pack up my own shit to move out of my house, I’m gonna stuff my face the entire fucking time you’re here so you can know that your words are motivating me to get even fatter.” He pulled up his shirt and grab the newly forming roll below his flabby sagging man breasts and said “do you see this roll right here? I’m gonna stuff my face until it ends up developing even more creases and folds in my flesh. And the entire time I’m doing it I’m gonna be thinking about you. So that you know you made me even fatter and heavier.” The rejected guy, who was a little bit of a dom, was disgusted, but I couldn’t help but notice that he needed to readjust his crotch immediately after. I’d catch Sean occasionally stealing glances at Marco gorging himself after that. Even all these months later, he’d try to play it cool and ask me ‘what is that gross pig of a brother looking like now’ and ask for a pic. There was a hungry look in his eyes that I was definitely going to take advantage of when Marco had totally given up.

I had gone around a mile and a half at this point and I was just about to turn and go through the homestretch. I tried to do about a 5K before I left for work, but sometimes I didn’t have time, and I had to turn it around early. That day he ended up stuffing himself to the point that he started begging and demanding that I order pizza to come to the house, so we could continue stuffing himself with more food as they move the last of the stuff out of his room. To the guys, I acted appalled that my fat ass stepbrother would want even more food but then, when I had a moment alone, I called the delivery place and ordered three pizzas to be delivered to our parents house under his name, as if while we were outside, he was just phoned to order more food. Happily, Marco was in on the bed and fessed up for it saying that three pizzas was not even going to be enough to fill his belly and then he probably would end up ordering a few more. That he needed to get himself nice and fat for them. That was the moment where I was absolutely sure that he was a man who ran exclusively on spite. I could use that.

As it turned out, I thought, as I finished the last third of the run. Marco had overestimated his appetite. He had eaten himself into a stupor, sure. But as he rested on his bed in the new place, surrounded by boxes, he still had one and a half pizzas left over, but those would be gone within 24 hours. After that, he was vocal about asking for as much food as he wanted. It was his thing, he had decided. He would not accept less than he wanted. The weight started to climb really quickly and I decided that I wanted to make sure that he didn’t need to leave the house to get anything so when I saw his clothes were starting to get tight I replaced them with larger sizes that I would buy on the Internet and have shipped to the house. That way he never really needed to worry about whether he could find clothes. Once I knew what brands he liked, it was very easy to pick him up a new T-shirt or sweatshirt that had sizes up to 10X or the gigantic pairs of sweatpants that he would throw on.

I even created a strap, like on a messenger bag, that he could use to pull up his pants if he needed to get them up and down. Hell, sometime between 450 and 500, I managed to convince him to start doing enemas which I needed to help him with. He was already used to the concept because he needed them before when he hooked up with guys, but the fact that he couldn’t actually reach back there well enough to insert it was new. I just needed to do about 2 to 3 enemas per week and he was good to go. I had started to turn onto the block where I lived and knew I would be heading home soon and then it was rushing to work and business as usual.

The funny thing is at one point about six months after he moved into this place. It’s almost like he just gave up. He started to look at old photos of himself like it was another person. Occasionally, he would watch episodes of My 600 Pound Life and complain because those people didn’t look that fat. Six-hundred pounds didn’t look that big to him. What were they complaining about?

That was a day where he couldn’t get the momentum to hoist his fat ass up off of the couch and needed me to help pull him up and he didn’t even have the self-awareness to see that he was a morbidly obese, 23-year-old who was too fat to wipe his ass, too fat to get up sometimes, and he was stuffing himself heading for 600 pounds.

Fortunately, one of the things that he loved back when he was fit, was showing himself off on Instagram. Fortunately, for me, he’s not very internet savvy. I walked in, and he was groggily digesting the meal working his way through a pot of coffee that was sitting next to him. The table he ate at was right next to an outlet, so I just brewed the coffee there, so he could just get coffee, as well as what turned out to be weight gain shakes that filled a small mini fridge that sat on the table. That way if he ran out of food and was desperate, he had something to eat, ignoring the fact that it was basically boost in a one-gallon pitcher.

“Hey bro” I asked the blob. “Have you thought about that Mukbang thing that I was telling you about?”

“Yeah. I’m definitely going to do it. In fact, I already set up the channel and created one or two videos already. They don’t have a lot of views, but it’s early yet. It’s not hard for me just to set up a video camera here and just videotape me eating and just talking about whatever. It’s nice to actually talk about, you know, my opinions on sports and culture and whatever and that Patreon thing that allows people to give me money? That’s amazing. People are really generous with that stuff. Especially when I showed what I looked like before I started eating? The money just started pouring in. I’m getting a lot of people that’ll just pay me money to eat random stuff. If I keep this up, I might be able to make enough money to actually pay rent around here! Imagine that, being able to earn more money stuffing my face than I could serving other people! That way, any time someone dropped off some food, I can just turn that into a video. Nate even said that he would agree to doing this kind of video where one person feeds me on camera? Apparently, that’s some thing that a lot of the guys have been requesting and it would be kinda hot to be able to do a video with my boyfriend. Thanks for the idea!” I saw that he was about to try to hoist himself up to head to the couch, but his belly bumped up against the bottom of the table and knocked him back down. He glanced up at the pull rope, and then just sighed ever so slightly. He settled back down and then reached over to grab a pitcher of the weight gain shake from the fridge. He waved me away to get dressed in my bedroom, and he pressed play on the video camera to start his next Mukbang.

“Hey, everybody. Mark of the Beast here. Or MarcObese as you’ve suggested I call myself. I’m thinking about the new name. I like it. It’s better than the cheesy metal name that I thought of. Anyway, I’ve got this pitcher of really fattening protein shake that my awesome stepbrother made. He’s the one that cooks a lot of the food you see on this channel. He’s a chef at this awesome restaurant in our town. He doesn’t want me to mention the name but it’s amazing. I’m just gonna go and rant about judgmental people at the gym while I finish this shake. Buckle up guys, I have a lot to say. Now it’s probably been a while since I’ve been at the gym. I didn’t really go back after that bullshit with moving day. Fuck those guys. I’ve just been focused on eating what I want, and living my best life. I’m glad that you guys are coming along for the ride. Although I doubt that if I did go back to the gym, it would be the same one I used to go to, the ones with all those judgy bitches that were there last time. So anyway, I struggled a little bit pulling open the door to the gym because it was uphill and I was just getting a little out of breath. OK? Not a big deal. And then this judgy twig of a woman goes ‘maybe you should pick up the barbells instead of the bars of chocolate tubbo!’ And I go ‘Fuck you! I’m gonna have twice as much junk food as I was going to today, that’ll show you!’ So anyway…”

I heard Marco trailer off after I cast one glance into the living room as I saw that he had already finished about a quarter of the pitcher when I went into the bathroom, closing the door and turned on the water to take my shower. My plan was going perfectly. Once he got to about 550 pounds, it was gonna be time to move on to phase 3. I just wanted to give it a little bit more time for his Mukbang channel to become his “career”.

Once some helpful person had pointed his channel out to the gainer and encourager scene, guys from all over the world started coming out of the woodwork and being so nice to him. Giving him money just to eat food he wanted to eat anyway. To Marco, it was a dream come true. But my dreams for Marco were just getting started. The days when I couldn’t bring people home because he was taking up all the space in the living room recording his videos? That time was coming to a close, I had a feeling. The water rushed over my svelte, naked body, and I thought of how much fun I could have in that living room when Marco finally figured out why he got the big bedroom, in the place I was paying for.

///

Some time later, after Jared had quietly left, Marco shut the camera off. It was an OK video. Like a lot of his videos, he did it as a livestream where he made most of the money, release it as a video a while later, and then film a little bonus video at the same time where he would eat a little treat, based on the audience’s suggestion, and that bonus video would only be available on the Patreon. Overall, he would do about one pair of videos every day or two and between the money he made during the videos (and the money he made on the Patreon broken up per week), he ended up making about $100-$200 a week. It wasn’t much, but his channel was growing pretty quickly.

It had been a few hours since he had plunked himself down on his bench to have breakfast, and he had about a half an hour or so until people started to arrive with food for lunch. Then Jared was going to be coming back to drop off some food after the lunch rush around 2:30 or so so he had only a little bit of time before he would inevitably be woken up by someone, so he decided the best thing he could do was just put on one of the music channels on the TV and take a nap on the couch. He looked up at the rope, reached up and used all his upper body strength to pull himself up. His body felt so bloated and weighed down after eating so much, he thought to himself.

He wasn’t aware that since he overate at every single meal that heavy feeling wasn’t being bloated from his last meal, but the fact that he was growing ever closer to 600 pounds. He could feel his body shake as he waddled the short distance to the couch, and then thought better of it, and waddled back to his bedroom to go take a piss before he stretched out on the couch.

He waddled over to the toilet and grabbed the rope that was tied to a hook on the wall, and he looped it around underneath his belly, and held the loose end in his other hand, and that’s what he used to pull his belly up and out of the way, so that he could piss without pissing all over the bottom part of his belly, which sometimes was in the way now. It was another one of his stepbrother’s ingenious tricks. He was so grateful for Jared. Not having to worry about going out to buy food to fill his belly, not having to worry about cooking everything, not having to worry about rent and paying the bills. Keeping his parents off of his back? Jared ran interference about everything, so Marco could just worry about growing his channel, starting up his Mukbang business, and enjoying his life.

That done, he glanced at himself in the vanity mirror, backing up, so he could feel the tile against the soft fat behind his shoulder blades, and his large buttocks pressed against the tile. It was the only way he could take in his whole body as he saw his wide, flabby body, staring back at him. He looked at it, and smiled. Sure, he had accepted that he might be way fatter than Jared had ever been, but when Jared was fat, he looked like a flabby loser, Makos still felt like he was doing Jared a favor by making fun of him. Especially given how hot and in-control Jared had turned out. It was the push Jared needed to get the kind of life that he had now. Sure, Marco had been trying to get Jared to break his diet, but as it turned out, all of that, stuffing his face in front of Jared had given Jared the motivation to keep at it. It looked like Marco wasn’t the only one that was motivated by spite. He saw all the fat rolls and cellulite piling on top of his neck, making it so that he couldn’t really check behind him anymore because there was just too much fat on the way. He couldn’t really bend over and touch his toes anymore. When he needed to put on shoes for some reason, like, if Nate wanted to take him out for a date at a buffet, they had to be slip-ons, and he almost never wore socks. It was just too hard. He looked at his obese form in the mirror, and felt like he looked like a man was imposing and took up space. He didn’t look like the flabby loser that Jared had been, even though he was approaching twice old Jared’s size. The truth was, all of the little inconveniences didn’t really bother him because it was always only slightly more inconvenient than it had been a few weeks ago.

Maybe the extra food was catching up to him though.

He felt his leg muscles and knees protest at keeping him standing for only the few minutes it had been. He turned to the side and looked at his giant belly hanging down. His tits hanging on top of his belly like half deflated beach balls and he loved that size. He loved how much space he took up and how much his body pissed off so many people who just gave him dirty looks and words of fake concern. All of those haters on his channel were only fueling his drive. None of them were really taking care of him and thinking about what he wants, except for Jared. He was a good one. Marco shook his belly as much as he could reach. He glanced at the clock in the bathroom and noticed that he only had about 20 minutes or so before people might start knocking on the door So he waddled back to the living room, piled all of the junk food and leftovers on the table in front of and beside him on the sofa, and he went back to watching the TV, hoping that he might get lucky and open the door for a delivery driver. Before he sat down, he need to remember to grab both remotes, because it was getting harder and harder to hoist himself back up again. It was a really low sofa, he told himself. It was even tough for Jared to get off of, after he came home drunk from the bars.

End of Part 1

#better off bigger #big bro #bigger bro #gainer fiction #kinky fanfic #lgbt

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